A Symphony of Echoes

Her sleep was restless, dreams of deformed babies and vampires hunting her down in her pregnant state keeping Buffy from getting the rest she needed. She woke with eyes that ached and nerves that refused to calm in spite of the fact that she could no longer feel any of the residual pains that had plagued her the previous night. The danger to the baby seemed to be past; everything else, she told herself, was inconsequential.

She was lightly dozing when she heard her door open, but when she cracked her eyelids to see which doctor was coming to poke at her now, Buffy was mildly surprised to see Spike hovering just inside the entrance.

"Just gone eight," Spike replied. Closing the distance between them, he sat on the edge of her bed as she rolled onto her back, his eyes darting to the swell of her stomach beneath the blankets. "How are you feelin'?"

She couldn't help but smile softly when his hand came to rest automatically on her bump. "Physically, like I'm ready to get out of this place," she said.

"Not a one." What he'd said suddenly sunk in, and Buffy frowned. "I thought visiting hours didn't start until nine."

His eyes shuttered at the question. "I reckon she's still at home," he said. "I didn't exactly go with her last night."

Spike's smile was shy. "'Course I did. You really think I'd get more than a few feet from where I could help if something went wrong? You and the little one are the two single most important things in this unlife of mine. You know that."

"Well, yeah, but..." Buffy's voice trailed away. The sudden rush of emotion from his simple testimony constricted her throat, and she could feel the distinct burn of tears in the back of her eyes. Stupid hormones, she thought, ducking her head to avoid letting him see her weakness. She hated looking like such a baby in front of him when she knew how much he valued seeing her strong. It was hard not to be touched by the sentiment of his words, though.

"Soon as I get you home again," Spike was saying, "I'm all set to pamper you until you're begging me to stop. I'll even sit and watch that Steel Magnolias with you if you want. You just have to promise me not to get stroppy if all that treacle makes me heave."

The mention of pampering pushed her over the edge. Sitting up, Buffy took Spike by surprise by throwing her arms around his neck, tugging him as close as she could in a powerful hug. "Have I mentioned yet how much I love you?" she murmured.

She felt his nose bury in her hair, his strong hands splaying across her back to hold her just as close. "Never get tired of hearing that," he whispered. His lips moved across her shoulder, sending ripples of pleasure down her spine in spite of her lethargy. "Love you, too, pet."

Buffy closed her eyes, letting herself sink into the safety of his embrace. If the doctors didn't give her the green light to go home, she had a feeling both she and Spike would have words to say about that. Neither was pleased about her situation, and if the pains were gone, staying in the hospital was just keeping them apart.

More than anything else, Buffy wanted him near. She needed Spike near. Regardless of what she'd said to him the previous night about not being able to help with the baby, she knew that he did other, just as important, things to keep her and Schmoo safe. That's what she wanted right now. She figured she had it due.

Half of Willow was desperate for Buffy to get home from the hospital; the other half was terrified of facing Spike when it happened. Though she'd waited anxiously for them to come back the previous night, she'd also been relieved when Joyce had arrived alone. Things were not going to be pretty. Spike was going to want answers that she just couldn't give him. She couldn't even give them to herself.

Though she'd camped out with Havi for the night, Willow was the first one up and around in the morning, bustling in the kitchen with the fixings for pancakes. She was in the middle of looking around for something sweet to put in them when the phone rang, sending her skittering to answer it before it could wake up anybody else in the house.

"Willow." There wasn't even surprise in Oz's voice that she'd picked up the phone. "How's Buffy?"

"Fine, last I heard. They kept her in for observation last night. Mrs. Summers is going to go over after breakfast and see if Buffy can come home today."

Cradling the phone in her shoulder, Willow went back to her search of the cupboards. "He's not here," she said. "He spent the night at the hospital. Something about keeping guard."

Something about Oz's tone made him seem disappointed in the response, and Willow froze in mid-reach for the chocolate chips. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

"Sorta. Well, no, definitely, but it's more of a cosmic irony kind of wrong. Interesting, actually. Is Havi there?"

"No, just...keep her there, will you? I'm on my way over. I've got somebody who needs to talk to her. I'm just going to swing by the hospital and pick up Spike first."

He was gone before Willow could question him further, and she stood to hang up the phone with a frown back on her face. She knew it was bad, but she kind of hoped that whatever was up was enough to distract Spike and Buffy from the question of what exactly had happened with the baby. Willow was sure that all she needed was time to sort out where the spell had gone wrong. Then, she could fix it.

When the docs kicked him out of Buffy's room so that they could look her over in private, the last person Spike expected to run into in the waiting room was Oz.

Spike immediately stiffened. "This isn't about---," he started, but Oz was swift to cut him off.

"I'm pretty sure there's no way in hell you could ever guess," he said. "Remember Giles' little houseguest a few months back?"

It took a few seconds for Spike to understand what Oz was referring to. "He hasn't had another surprise visit, has he?" he asked, stepping away from the busier part of the room so that their conversation could continue without the benefit of eavesdroppers.

Spike listened as Oz detailed what Graham had shared, the story of Xander's capture and subsequent interrogation, ending with Graham's arrival on Oz's doorstep. When Oz was done speaking, Spike shook his head.

"You're kiddin', right? You lot kept him in chains in Rupert's bathtub. You really expect a fella to have your best intentions at heart after something like that? I know I'd be lookin' to rip out a few throats if it was me."

"I know. I think it would make me a little cranky, too. But I called Xander's mom and she confirmed that he didn't come home last night. That jives with what Graham claims."

"Oh, I'm not sayin' he's not on the up-and-up about Harris gettin' snatched," Spike said. "I just think it's a set-up and your glasses are just a bit too rosy to see it properly."

Oz stuffed his hands in his pockets, his eyes unwavering. "Is this your way of saying you don't want to help us get Xander back?' he asked. "I mean, if you'd rather hang around here waiting for Buffy, that's cool. I'm sure Buffy would appreciate that."

It took all of Spike's control not to roll his eyes in disgust. The wolf knew exactly what buttons to push, and if it was anybody else, Spike would rip his head off for even trying such a tactic. But Oz also had a point. If Harris really was in trouble---and knowing him, he probably was---Buffy would've been the first in line to help him if it wasn't for her condition. Hell, she'd likely do it even being pregnant. Spike would come out with the short end of the stick if he didn't at least offer to lend a hand.

"Lemme find out what's goin' on with Buffy first," Spike said. "If the docs make her stay on, we can go after Harris then."

"And give her even more rubbish to fuss about?" He shook his head. "She's got enough on her mind without worrying about Harris, too."

Together, they waited until the doctor emerged from Buffy's room. Once Spike heard the news that they wanted to keep her in at least through the afternoon, he nodded to Oz before slipping in to see Buffy.

In spite of her swollen belly, she looked tiny in the sterile bed. "Doctors can be incredibly unreasonable, you know that?" she commented when she saw it was Spike. Reaching for the TV remote, she edged to the side to make room for him to come join her. "I'm counting on you to tell me where the good stuff is," she said, turning the set on. "But no soaps. Or Jerry Springer. I don't care how much you love the fights."

"Actually, luv, I have to step out for a bit." The announcement took her by surprise, and he hastened to fill the silence before she started asking questions he didn't want to answer. "Oz needs me to help sort a situation for him. Shouldn't be too long, and your mum will be around in just a few anyway. I'm sure she'll chatter more than enough to make you forget I'm not even here."

But her disappointment was more than evident, driving Spike to her side to pull her into his arms. "I'll be back before the doc comes by to check on you this afternoon," he said, brushing a kiss across her temple. "And I'll make it up to you tonight. I promise."

"I'm going to hold you to that promise," she murmured. She was soft and pliant in his arms, making it even harder for him to let her go. "Can the promise come with ice cream, too?"

With one last kiss, Spike broke free, ambling to the door and back out to Oz. Neither man said a word as they headed for the parking lot, though Spike imagined that would change once they got to the Summers' household. Even if he didn't really care for Havi, he knew one thing for sure. She was protective of her own, and if there was one thing she'd taken possession of since coming to the Hellmouth, it was Xander Harris.

Maggie wasn't entirely sure what to do with the young man. His answers had been thoroughly useless, and she was fairly certain that he'd been mocking her more than once with references she didn't quite get. If he'd been one of her students, she would've failed him without blinking, or made him so miserable that he would've dropped out of her class and made her life infinitely easier. He wasn't, though. He was a potential threat if he leaked what he suspected to the public. She just wasn't sure yet what he knew exactly.

She was still lost in her decision-making when the knock came at her door. Bidding the visitor to come in, she closed the file in time to look up and see the private hovering in the entrance. "Yes?" Maggie prompted.

"I already have. He hasn't been seen since dropping off the prisoner last night."

The announcement puzzled Maggie, and she dismissed the soldier with a frown already marring her features. It was unlike Graham to behave in this manner; ever since his unfortunate experience with the demonhunters, his deportment had been exemplary. Perfect, even.

The correlation made her pause. Hadn't one of the other soldiers said that he'd thought Harris knew Graham? The other two had denied hearing such a claim, and nothing Xander had said during his interrogation hinted that the claim held any validity. Maggie had dismissed it out of hand.

But what if the soldier had been right? Was there somehow a link between the two young men? Why else would Graham disappear so thoroughly?

Picking up the phone, she punched in the extension she wanted and opened up the file as she waited for someone to answer. "Prep Exam Room Four," she ordered. "Has our new guest been given medical clearance for further examinations yet?"

Maggie sighed. "Fine. Just have the exam room ready for then. I'll be conducting an additional interrogation with Mr. Harris. Make sure the doctors know that I expect him to be in the proper condition for it."

She hung up without waiting for a response. Though she wasn't happy about having to wait, she also knew that she could make the situation worse if she used what few drugs they had before Harris' body could handle it. She wanted the young man able to speak, not in a coma. More importantly, she wanted to know what the connection between him and Miller was, once and for all.

Lounging against the door jamb, he watched with amusement as she slammed Graham into the wall, creating a new crack in the plaster, with Willow and Oz scrambling to pull her off.

"If he is hurt," she hissed, "you will never know such pain as that I will cause you. I will---."

"We really don't need the visual," Willow interrupted, tugging at the arm Havi had pressed against Graham's throat. "And besides, if you rip out his vocal cords, he can't tell us how to get Xander out, now can he?"

"But I will feel much better," Havi said. But her grip eased enough for Oz to pull Graham away from the wall, letting Willow guide her to a stand a few feet away.

"Anyone thought to ask yet just why he did?" Spike commented. When all eyes turned to him, he shrugged. "I know I'm not the only one thinkin' set-up here. And if you're not, then shame on you for bein' just this short of stupid."

The room fell silent, attention shifting back to Graham. The focus didn't ruffle his composure, and he leveled a clear gaze to Havi.

"I'm not going to lie," he said. "I think you guys are crazy for trusting HST's like you do." His head jerked in Spike's direction. "He'll turn on you. People you care about will die. That's a given. It's what vampires do."

"That doesn't change what he is." Something fleeting passed behind Graham's eyes. "But...that doesn't have anything to do with why I came here. I made a deal with Xander to help him get out if he didn't let anybody know that he was part of the group that kidnapped me in September. He kept his word. It's time for me to keep mine."

Willow frowned. "If you knew who was holding you," she asked, "why would you lie about it to your bosses? I would've thought you'd come after us the first chance you got."

Spike saw the way the soldier glanced at Oz and remembered the day soon before Graham had escaped that Oz had spent hours in the bathroom. Something had obviously been said between the two, something that inspired trust on either end, but he had a funny feeling that the details of that meeting would forever remain a mystery.

"Let's just say, I came to believe that what we'd done in taking the HS---Oz, into custody wasn't exactly in anyone's best interest," Graham said. "I told my superiors that I'd been kidnapped by demonhunters who were after the werewolf as well. When one got hospitalized soon after that in a coma, they decided to believe me."

Havi blanched at the indirect mention of Baltozar. "Why come to us to help free Xander?" she asked. "You went to great efforts to keep your organization a secret. Why are you risking discovery by coming to us now?"

Spike might not like Havi, but he couldn't help but admire her shrewd mind. She was the only one of the other three treating the situation with the gravity it required. He would've preferred watching her beat the soldier to a bloody pulp, but at least the questions were getting put onto the table now. It was about time.

"Because I can't do it on my own," Graham said. "The place is a fortress. It's designed to be that way. It's been operating under your noses for months now, and not once has a civilian stumbled across what we haven't wanted to be found."

"Well, that's not exactly true," Willow said. "We saw you snatching the vampires more than once."

"But you never found our base of operations. And you wouldn't have had me in your custody so long if you hadn't had outside help. Getting your friend out isn't going to be easy."

Spike's mouth twitched into a half-smile when he saw the confusion in Havi and Graham's faces. He doubted either had ever even read Siddharta to recognize the reference; it was one of the many reasons he liked the werewolf so much.

"I can get you into the compound through one of the back ways," Graham said, ignoring Oz's question. "From there, though, you're going to have to be on your own. I can't risk my superiors finding out about my involvement."

"I can use my magic to find Xander," Willow volunteered. "And a sort-of glamour to shield our presence once we're down there."

Graham's head snapped to the side, his eyes wide as he stared at Spike in disbelief. "You're not going," he said.

Spike shrugged. "You think you can get him out without my help, be my guest. It'll make for a good laugh after when you get your ass kicked."

Nobody was more shocked than Spike to hear Havi sound out so adamantly about his contribution to the team. He'd certainly never given her a reason to welcome his aid, and though they'd had their moments of détente over the past few months, they'd had even more friction. When he quirked an eyebrow at her in question, however, her face remained impassive.

"---and we will require as many allies as possible. He comes whether you care for him or not."

Graham clearly didn't like the ultimatum, but the determination in the faces around him seemed enough to keep him from arguing further. Pressing his lips together, he just shook his head, folding his arms across his chest as he said, "You're all crazy, you know that?"

"Yeah, but it's OK," Willow said with a bright smile. "Pretty soon, you don't even notice the crazy."

"We should go," Havi said. "We've wasted enough time already. We need to get Xander back."

Graham's gaze flickered from Spike to the drawn curtains. "But...it's daylight."

"You think I let a little thing like that stop me?" Spike drawled. He grabbed his blanket from where he'd draped it over the banister. "Studs is right. Let's go."

The one advantage to working for the Council---if Robin could call being co-opted against his better judgment working---was that it gave him an excuse to go see Lydia at the house and hopefully run into Esme again. Her words from their first meeting still haunted his waking thoughts and some of his sleeping ones as well; he needed to see just how far she was willing to go or the possibilities would never stop offering themselves.

Lydia came out when he pulled up in front of the house, her arms hugging her slim body. "Wesley has gone to visit Rupert," she said when Robin approached. "But we must still be discreet. The...woman we've been assigned to watch over is rather inquisitive."

Robin nodded, though he was slightly disappointed when Lydia lingered outside instead of inviting him in. "Did he go in because of Buffy?" he asked.

"Buffy's fine. As much as I can tell, it really is false labor. Nothing for the Council to worry about."

When she stiffened at his casual use of the Council Head's first name, it took all of Robin's will not to shake his head in annoyance. He wasn't as intimidated by the old man like those who worked directly in his employ, and he knew that Lydia was more than a little miffed that he'd been pulled in to help with the Council's plans. She'd seen this as her way to wheedle herself back into Quentin's good graces, and now it appeared as if Robin was thwarting those efforts. He had little tolerance for such childish behavior.

"We need to discuss our next step," she said, sidestepping his question. "Mr. Travers is very eager for our guarantee that he'll be able to control the Slayer before she can give birth."

Robin gestured at the surrounding area. "And you want to do it out here when you've got a perfectly good indoors where we won't get windburn and chapped lips?" he asked.

"That's your problem, Lydia. You think too much." Pushing past her, his hand was on the doorknob before she could stop him, turning it and pushing the door open to step off the porch.

"Is right here." The old woman's voice made Lydia stop, but Robin's gaze was unwavering when he met the witch's dark eyes. "She does so like talking about me as if I wasn't a real person. It's frustrating, actually."

The question of how Esme was going to react to his presence was answered when she stepped forward and stuck out her hand. "I don't believe we've met," she said. He saw the cunning flicker in her eyes and wondered how Lydia could be so blind to it. "I'm Esme. Lydia's...aunt. You must be the young man she keeps talking about."

He decided to keep up the charade and gave her his most gracious smile. "Just call me Robin," he said.

"Why don't you go put some tea on, Lydia?" Esme said. "It'll give me a chance to talk to your young man."

Lydia looked less than pleased, but after a worried glance between them, she disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Esme to pull Robin over to the couch.

"Well, this is certainly interesting," she said in a voice he was certain couldn't be heard from the other room.

Esme smiled. "I know enough. She's explained you to Wesley by calling you her boyfriend. He's not aware of your heritage." Her eyes gleamed in anticipation. "Does your presence here mean you've given some thought to what I said to you?"

His mouth went suddenly dry. He hadn't really thought after he'd left the hospital; he'd just gotten into his car and driven until he found himself on Lydia's doorstep. "I suppose it means I have," he said carefully.

Something in her face softened, but he had no clue as to why. "It must sting to know that William the Bloody is leading such a gratifying existence now," she said. Her tone was soothing, and Robin couldn't help but nod. It was the truth, after all. "If I had my powers back, I could make it so that he paid for eternity for what he did to your mother. That kind of loss deserves some kind of retribution, don't you think?"

"I could. If you helped me. And then I'd give you what you wish for the most. For Spike to hurt just as much as you do."

And there it was. The offer he'd been refusing to consciously acknowledge ever since he'd left her the first time. The promise of it was a double-edged sword, an allure that could potentially damn him forever.

"I don't..." he started, but then he did. He saw Spike's face in the hollow light of the hospital, heard the devotion for a child not yet born, and the potential of how much grief he could cause made his heart beat even faster. "The baby..."

Esme smiled, a slash of malice that would've chilled him at any other time. "Of course," she whispered. "Tit for tat. He killed your mother, and you would take away his child. I do like the symmetry of that."

"You could have that," she was saying. Her hand clawed into his thigh, and she was suddenly so close that Robin could see the individual flecks in her eyes. Some of them gleamed gold; he couldn't believe he hadn't seen that before. "All I need is my magic back. You do that for me, and I'll make sure Spike suffers more than you could ever dream."

Her next words were barely a breath. "Kill Willow Rosenberg, and it'll all come true."

The force of it made her drop the tea cup she was rinsing out in the sink. She wasn't even aware of the shards of glass slicing through her paper-thin skin, or the rivulets of blood that mingled with the tea washing down the drain.

Power she'd long thought she'd never feel again, though she'd kept up the semblance of hope when she navigated through her day.

Inside her fragile ribcage, her heart began to accelerate, trying to catch up with the pounding rhythms of the magic that was slamming back into her system, eager to relearn its old patterns. Esme gripped the edge of the counter in an attempt to stave away the vertigo insistent on taking control, and barely heard Lydia's concerned voice filter from the other room.

The world glowed brightly around her, burning at the edges of her retinas in brilliance she hadn't experienced in decades. The truth was undeniable. It didn't make a difference how it happened, or that young Robin Wood had acted much faster than she'd imagined he would. What mattered was that her magic was back.

But before she could fully rejoice in her newfound power, Esme collapsed to the kitchen floor.

The bed was cold beneath Buffy's back, but she was doing her best to try and ignore that fact. There were other, more pressing things weighing her down, and they were doing everything in their power to keep her heart jumping like some kind of southwestern bean.

Joyce hovered at the side of the bed, watching the technician spread the gel across Buffy's exposed stomach. "I'm sure he'll understand," she assured. "He hasn't been able to attend one of your ultrasounds yet. This shouldn't be any different."

"The difference is that this could've been his only chance to actually see Schmoo." Buffy's gaze hopped between the monitor at the side of the bed and the shiny expanse of her tummy. "I just hate that he's losing out on it."

"Yeah, well, we would've been just as healthy or not in a couple hours when he gets back." She grimaced as she watched the technician maneuver the transducer to get the best scan. "At least this means I get to pee soon. Schmoo's been tap dancing on my bladder for an hour now."

"You've got an active little baby here," the technician said. "It doesn't want to stop moving around."

Buffy took a second too long to answer the tech, compelling Joyce to peer at her with a frown.

It was a gentle prompt, but it was still enough for her to be embarrassed about her growing desire. "It would just make it so much easier," Buffy said. "Picking out clothes, picking out a name. I don't get why Spike is being so difficult about this."

Joyce cast a wary eye toward the technician before replying. "You know how he can be...old-fashioned. He likes to pretend a good game, but deep down, he's still William. You should know that better than anybody."

"You're right, you're right." She turned back to the tech. "No telling. Just call it Schmoo."

"Understood." The trio lapsed into silence, but it only lasted for a few seconds. All too soon, the technician frowned and leaned forward, examining the monitor more closely.

"Then I've got good news for you." She shifted to smile encouragingly at the two Summers women. "It's completely clear. Schmoo looks happy and healthy. I don't see any reason why the doctor would keep you any longer when he sees you this afternoon."

Buffy sagged against her pillows. Relief flooded her body, her hands straying automatically to her tummy. Thank god, there was one less thing for her to worry about. Everybody had been right after all. It was just one of those freaky pregnancy things that she over-reacted to as normal. Stupid hormones.

Now, if only Spike would get back so that she could share the good news, everything would be perfect.

Time seemed to stand still as Spike stared down at Willow's unmoving body. He'd actually started getting into the mindset that nothing could touch the witch; so many times over the past few months, she'd proven herself nearly invincible with the magic that lashed out at the slightest provocation. But this time, she hadn't had time to react. She hadn't been watching her back. This time, she was dead.

He started moving even before he heard Oz's scream of denial behind him. Leaping over the railing of the balcony upon which they stood, Spike vamped out in a vicious snarl before his boots hit the floor below, grabbing the first soldier that dared to approach and twisting his neck in a satisfying crunch. Xander's panicked questions about what was going on seemed to ring in his ears, and Spike whipped around to look up to where Oz seemed ready to jump down as well.

The sound of Havi's voice only served to infuriate Spike further, and he wrenched away from the spectacle on the balcony to see her crouching over Willow's prone body.

"You were supposed to protect her!" he shouted. "So much for doin' your bloody job!"

"There might still be hope." Reaching behind her head, Havi pulled at the uppermost studs in her neck until they came off in her hands, a small silver ball in one and a long silver bar in the other.

A volley of new gunfire had Spike lunging to throw himself over the two women, though he knew it was pointless in the case of one of them. Bullets tore into his back, and he growled against the pain, the scent of Willow's freshly spilled blood making his mouth water and his demon roar.

"Get Xander out of here in safety and I will do what I can to save her," Havi said.

Inexplicable tears stung at Spike's eyes, but he refused to acknowledge them as another wave of soldiers attacked. The carnage was quick and brutal, his grief fuelling him to violence he hadn't experienced since coming back to Sunnydale, and it was only when there was a brief respite in the fighting that he saw Oz poised on the balcony with the crossbow and an empty quiver.

Havi was still bent over Willow, her long fingers spreading some kind of oil across the witch's cheeks. The same oil leaked from the end of the bar she'd pulled out of her neck.

"That's exactly what I'm trying to accomplish," she muttered. She finally looked up, one arm beneath Willow's shoulders cradling her close, and the gravity in Havi's face made Spike hesitate where he'd been about to approach again. "Get Xander out of here," she repeated. "And tell Oz...I will do everything I can."

Before Spike could react, Havi plunged the sharp end of the silver bar into Willow's heart like a miniature dagger. A brilliant light exploded from where they were, knocking him back away from the overturned cart, and by the time he'd blinked to see what had just happened, both women were gone.

He had no idea what was going on. Spike had been shouting, and then Oz had started shouting as well, and what kept getting shouted couldn't help but lead Xander to believe that something had happened to Willow. Something bad. Something unthinkable. So when Oz broke free and disappeared into the black ether, Xander went stumbling after him, desperate to find out what was messing with everybody. If his best friend had gone firestarter again, he wanted to know.

"What's happening? What's going on?" He kept asking the questions, over and over again, in every permutation he could think of hoping that one of them would get Oz's attention. He couldn't even find the other man. There was the smell of blood and the sounds of fighting and Xander was beginning to think that things might've been much better off if this had been one time when he hadn't been rescued. The fact that he couldn't hear Havi and Willow at all when they'd specifically come back to get them was worrying him to the point where he didn't care if he was blind man walking, he was going to just start swinging punches and hope that he connected with something.

Oz's shout was both panicked and desperate, somewhere off to Xander's left. He honed in on it immediately, rushing forward until a steel bar jammed into his hip. A strong grip curled around his upper arm to keep him from toppling over.

"Not until somebody tells me what's going on," he said. "This is one of those times where those annoying blow-by-blow commentaries would be greatly appreciated."

A flurry of rustling leather whistled by his ear, and a much stronger hold grabbed his other arm. "If we don't want to end up the same way as Red," Spike said, already dragging Xander backwards, "now is the perfect time to run."

Oz seemed determined to do his best wishbone impression on Xander. "We can't just leave her here," he argued.

"In case you hadn't noticed, the birds have flown the coop," Spike shot back. He yanked at Xander so hard that he pulled him free, wrenching Xander's arm so that pain lanced through his back. "There's nothin' we can do here. Studs..."

But he didn't finish the sentence, choosing instead to start running away from the fray. Oz's footsteps took a second to echo after them.

Xander didn't have the breath to say anything again until he was being shoved up some kind of ladder, Spike insistently pressing him from behind. Even then, the opportunity was lost when hands appeared from above and grabbed his arms, pulling him out of wherever they'd been and into the cool echo of a much larger space.

That was Graham. Xander's heart leapt into his throat. The soldier had actually kept his word.

"Will somebody please tell me what the hell happened back there?" Xander exclaimed.

"We got ambushed, remember?" There was the sound of a body hitting a wall, and Spike's snarl made it all too clear who was doing the slamming. "Care to share why that might be, soldier boy?"

"What are you talking about?" Graham gasped. Xander realized the vampire must be holding him by the throat.

"I don't think it was his fault," Oz said. "They were looking for him, too, Spike, and I don't think it was for an official commendation."

"Someone sold you out," Spike said. "I suggest you run like hell or your little buddies will be makin' you their next experiment." He chuckled, but the sound of it made Xander's blood run cold. "On second thought, stay right there. Serve you right, I think."

"He helped get me out of there by going to you guys," Xander interceded. "If they're after him, we're not just going to leave him behind."

Spike was suddenly standing in front of him, so close that Xander could smell the smoke that lingered on his coat.

"Don't think you'd be so quick about that peace offering if you knew what happened down there," he said. "Red's dead, Harris. And your little girlfriend is gone. Thanks to that little ambush, we get to be the lucky ones to tell Buffy that her best friend got killed while on our watch."

The vamp's voice was laced with bitterness, but the pain at Willow's loss couldn't be missed, either. But beyond what he said about Willow---something Xander was already suspecting anyway---his phrasing about Havi led to even bigger questions.

"I mean vanished. Poof. Up in the proverbial smoke. She said to get you out of there and that she'd do what she could for Red."

"Because we've just had all the time in the world to be sharing notes, right?" Spike snorted in disgust. "Start bein' smart, Oz."

"Oh, like you'd be a beacon for rationality if that was Buffy we'd just left behind."

"Enough!" Graham's voice rang out. "Can we argue about who would mourn more once we're away from this place? Just because you're up here doesn't mean they're stopping their chase."

That seemed to be all it took for Spike to start moving again, his hand tight on Xander's arm. Nobody said a word until they were all piled into Oz's van, and it was a tense couple of minutes as the vehicle sped away.

Spike sat next to Xander in the back, slumped against the wall. After the vamp's earlier outburst, Xander wasn't so sure he wanted to bring up the subject of Willow again, but considering he still knew next to nothing, he didn't think he had a choice.

"Will you tell me at least what happened back there?" he asked, keeping his voice low.

He heard Spike sigh, felt him move as he reached for something between them. The flick of his lighter was followed by the distinct smell of sulfur and cigarettes, and Xander had to bite back the retort about secondhand smoke killing. It would only make matters worse.

"She got shot in the back," Spike finally said. "Sniper took her out, too fast for her to see or me to stop. Only good thing is I don't think she suffered. Happened too quick for that."

Tears dampened Xander's eyes, making his lashes stick together behind his bandages. "What about Havi? You said...she vanished? How?"

"Looked like magic to me, what with the blinding light and all. One second she's there, smearing some oil shit on Willow, and the next..."

Spike's voice started to break, and he covered it up by taking a long drag on his cigarette. Xander decided that he didn't care about the smoke any more. He felt so bad that death would be a welcome change.

"This is all my fault," he murmured. "If I hadn't..." His head dropped to his hands. "God, what have I done?"

The fact that nobody tried to reassure him that he was wrong about the blame only depressed Xander further. What made it even worse was that he'd been so harsh with Havi, questioning her loyalty, only to have her turn around and demand Spike ensure Xander's safety so that she could do what she could to help Willow. He was glad that his bandages hid his crying from the others.

The van lurched to a stop, breaking him from his dead end thoughts. "Where are we?" he asked.

"Hospital." Spike rose from his seat, grabbing something from around their feet. Xander assumed it was his blanket. "Promised Buffy I'd be back after we got you sorted."

"Wait! Why is Buffy..." The van door slammed behind the exiting vampire. "...in the hospital?"

With Spike gone, he expected Oz to reply instead. It didn't happen. The van just started moving again, and Xander silently berated himself. He wasn't the only one grieving here.

The single word reply was the last warning Xander needed to keep his mouth shut. He didn't say another word until they were safely ensconced in the Watcher's apartment.

Wesley sat and listened in shocked disbelief as Oz related the story of what had happened during Xander's rescue. Willow...dead? What was worse was the timing of it. As soon as Rupert finished his tirade, Wesley was going to have no choice but to bring up the coincidence of his earlier call from Lydia.

"What on earth were you thinking?" Giles ranted. "It was both incredibly foolish and irresponsible for you to go in there without thought for the repercussions. How could you think you could trust him?" He gestured toward where Graham hung back in the corner. "And now Willow has paid the price for that arrogance."

Oz wasn't speaking. The young man had barely said a word since their arrival, his eyes dark and luminous as he just watched Rupert lecture.

"They couldn't have stopped her," Xander said. "You know how Willow has been getting lately. She thought she was Supergirl now."

He was already slipping into past tense. Xander's stomach clenched painfully at the realization.

Suddenly, Giles sank wearily into his favorite chair, removing his glasses to rub at his eyes. "Buffy is going to be devastated," he said. "Things are already difficult enough with the baby, and now this..."

"Spike will do what he can to lessen the blow," Oz said, finally breaking his silence.

"And maybe Havi will come through," Xander offered. "She wouldn't have just disappeared with Willow without having a really good reason, right?"

It was clear nobody wanted to consider the far-reaching possibilities, but Wesley knew better than to say anything about it. He also decided against mentioning the coincidental timing of Willow's death with Esme's collapse back at the house. Lydia had been quite upset about finding the witch unconscious, and while Wesley's initial response had been that the occurrence was merely because of the witch's age, he was now beginning to have doubts. It was just too fortuitous.

Maggie listened to the reports with her usual stoic composure, but the moment the soldiers left her office, her shoulders slumped. Though there had always been the faintest of doubts since his abduction, she'd never truly believed that Graham could betray her. He was too much a part of the team. She'd handpicked him personally both for his skills and for his loyalty. Next to Riley, he had been one of her favorites.

If it wasn't for Robin's call, she would never have known about his duplicity. Even then, she'd hoped that it was merely coincidence, but when the entourage arrived for young Harris' rescue, there had been no more room for doubt. You didn't send a vampire, a witch, and a werewolf to do your business if you weren't working for the other side.

Beyond her disappointment in his betrayal, however, there was fear that he would expose their operations. Granted, he'd been nothing but the model soldier since his unfortunate kidnapping in September, but obviously, he'd changed his mind about which side would have his allegiance. Now, the Slayer would know about what they were trying to accomplish with the Initiative. The only thing that gave Maggie any relief was that Graham knew nothing about her private interest in the Slayer artifacts. That was one secret that would remain hers until the time was right.

In the meantime, she would have to do what she could to get Graham back into custody. It would require more covert methodology, but she was an expert at that. She just had to be patient.

The oil burned where it touched Havi's skin, but she ignored the pain as she lifted Willow's body onto the edge of the well. The water was already rippling, the light an iridescent glow in anticipation of her arrival. The echoes of the magic pounded inside her skull, making it difficult to concentrate, but she bowed forward anyway, pressing her forehead to the headstone of the well as she waited.

She didn't move. She had to wait. She knew the protocols and if she wished for Willow to have any chance at all, she had to follow them.

"I did not fail," Havi argued. "I stood by her side. I fought with her until..." Finishing that sentence was going to be very bad for her case.

"Until she died, you mean." They didn't care for the niceties. "This is the second charge to die under your protection, Child of Life. You disappoint us."

"And you don't think I know that?" She sat up, suddenly not caring about the so-called protocols. Her eyes burned from her unshed tears. "We were only there because Xander fled in the face of my dishonesty with him. There would've been no need for a rescue if I'd been upfront with him from the start. I am more than aware of my blame in this."

Silence filled the cavern, the only sounds in the echoing space the gentle lapping of the water against the sides of the well. Willow's skin seemed ashen in the odd lighting, but Havi was doing everything in her power not to look at her. She had to be strong about this, and seeing the object of her failure would only break her.

"Coming to us in such a manner is for times of crisis only," the voice said. "You know this."

Anger flared at the indifference she heard in their tone. "I know she should not be dead!" Havi said. "And I know you have the power to reverse this, should you choose. You wanted her so badly to be one of you. Why aren't you fighting to keep her?"

"She was more than her magic!" She rose to her feet, desperate for any advantage she might have, even if it was only in her head. "She would've given the Guardians more than the ability to cast a spell. She would've given you compassion. Diligence. She would've brought back innocence without falling to ignorance. But she can't do that if she's dead."

"It's all part of the natural cycle, child. Even if this is not how we would've planned---."

The voice sighed. The air within the cavern felt heavier. "Even if we were to choose to help," it said, "we would not be able to do so. Balance must be kept. A life cannot be returned without another being taken."

They were no longer saying no. The hope that they were offering was slim, but Havi grasped it with everything she had. "So...if someone else was to die, you would do what is necessary to bring Willow back?" she asked.

Her mind raced. It was impossible to consider returning to Sunnydale without Willow at her side. She couldn't come this close and fail. She just couldn't.

Havi knelt again before the well, bowing her head in supplication. "There are no words to express just how ashamed I am that I have failed so," she said. "So I offer the only penitence I can. Take my life for Willow's."

A Symphony of Echoes
by Eurydice

The characters are Joss', of course, and the chapter title comes from Shakespeare's "Sonnet XIX."
PREVIOUSLY ON BUFFY: Willow's death meant Esme got her magic back and then fell unconscious while the shadow disappeared from Buffy's ultrasound, Havi teleported Willow's dead body out of the Initiative to the Well of the Guardians and offered to trade her life for Willow's, and the rest of the gang has managed to escape, dropping Spike off at the hospital before going to Giles'...

*************

Chapter 47: The Long-Lived Phoenix

Spike didn't realize just how bad he looked until two different nurses accosted him on his way to Buffy's room, trying to get him to go to the emergency room so that his injuries could be tended. A well-placed snarl was all it took to get them to disengage, but their reactions made him hesitant to just barge in on Buffy. He didn't want to scare her more than she already was. He veered toward the waiting room instead, throwing his blanket over his shoulders to hide the bullet holes in his back, in hopes of getting another opinion on just how bad his appearance was.

Joyce rose to her feet as soon as he entered, but the smile that appeared at the sight of him vanished when her gaze swept over his form.

"What happened?" she asked once she was at his side. She kept her voice low, her head tilted toward him to keep their conversation private from the other inhabitants of the waiting room.

Spike shook his head. "Just a bit of a scrap. Nothin' to fuss over." That answered his question, though. He'd have to clean up before going in to see Buffy.

Joyce seemed reluctant to accept his non-explanation, but the look on his face must've been enough for her to realize she shouldn't press. "You got here just in time," she said. "They're discharging Buffy early. We can go home as soon as they finish her paperwork."

At least one thing was going right today. "No more pains then?" he asked.

"Not a one. And the shadow is completely gone as well. They took that as a good omen that everything is going to be all right."

Spike's chest tightened, and he lifted bleak eyes to search Joyce's. "What was that? You said...how do they know the shadow's gone?"

"They did an ultrasound while you were out. Whatever was showing up yesterday isn't there any more. The baby's alive and kicking just as clear as day."

He didn't hear the good news about the little one.

What Spike heard was that all evidence of Willow's magic was completely gone from Buffy's scans.

Just like Willow was now gone from their lives.

That knowledge shattered the last of his resolve to be strong in the face of what had happened with Xander's rescue. Tears sprang to his eyes, and his shoulders slumped as the sobs started to wrack his chest. Joyce's warm arms were around him before he could stop her, but the comfort she offered only seemed to intensify his grief, his cries muffled as he clung to her.

"It's OK," she soothed. "I know it's been stressful, but Buffy's going to be OK."

The fact that she didn't even know why he was crying made it worse.

Suddenly, Joyce stiffened, pulling back as her hand came away from her embrace. Blood stained her fingers, and her face was pale when she looked at him. "This doesn't look like something I shouldn't fuss over," she said.

The other visitors had started to stare at them in curiosity, prompting Joyce to take Spike's arm and lead him into the hall. He kept his head lowered, hiding his face from those that passed, but when she pushed open the door to the hospital chapel, he saw the sign on the door and balked.

"We'll have privacy in here," Joyce said.

He didn't have the strength to argue and followed her to the rear pews, turning when she guided him around. The sharp intake of her breath made his head drop, and Spike closed his eyes as he felt her fingers probe the various holes in his back.

"This isn't about Buffy, is it?" she asked quietly.

He shook his head. His lashes were starting to stick together from his drying tears. "Red's dead," he murmured. "We ran into the wrong end of an ambush, tryin' to get Harris back. Sniper took her out before her magic could come to the rescue."

"Oh, Spike..." Her hands were warm against his neck as she tugged at the collar of his coat, forcing him to take it off so that she could get a better look at his injuries. "It looks like you were acting as a human shield. Did anybody else get shot?"

"Not that I know of. It was too late for Red, though." Craning his neck, he tried to peer over his shoulder and see the extent of the damage. "Doesn't feel like it's bleeding too much any more. If I cover it up, Buffy won't be the wiser."

"You're not honestly considering keeping this from her, are you?"

The incredulity in her voice made Spike lift his eyes to meet hers. "She's goin' to be broken up enough about Red," he said. "I don't need---."

"You know..." Suddenly, all her sympathy seemed to be gone, and her eyes flashed with something that made Spike take a step backward. "This second-guessing you and Buffy keep doing, trying to tiptoe around the other's feelings, has to stop. Here and now. I know you're upset about Willow, and I know you think you need to do what you can to keep Buffy from getting hurt, but relationships don't work that way. Well, Buffy's relationships don't. She hates being coddled, and if you keep doing it, you're going to lose her. Take it from somebody who knows."

"The baby---."

"---will be fine," Joyce finished. "Buffy's strong, and with this latest threat gone, she's got nothing to worry about. But when she finds out about Willow, the two of you are going to need to be there for each other, two hundred percent."

Spike sagged onto the pew, burying his head in his hands. "She's goin' to hate me," he muttered.

"She's not going to hate you."

He didn't look up when Joyce sat next to him. "She doesn't know what we did. She's goin' to blame me for lettin' Red get hurt."

The tears were free-flowing again, but this time it was fear for Buffy's reaction as much as it was the fact that Willow was gone. Though he didn't want to admit it, Joyce had a point. He had to come clean. He'd known he had to before she'd come to the hospital, but adding this onto the having to confess what had happened to her best friend was more than Spike was prepared to shoulder. The temptation to flee was tremendous, and if it wasn't for the fact that it would hurt more the longer he drew it out, he likely would've bolted from the chapel that very instant.

He didn't, though. He just cried until he couldn't cry any more. He had to have that out of his system before he faced Buffy.

*************

Joyce insisted on cleaning the worst of Spike's injuries before he went to Buffy's room, dragging him into a supply closet to bandage over the holes.

"We'll go see Rupert when Buffy gets discharged," she said. "He should be able to take care of you without you needing to see a doctor."

He couldn't hide the holes in his coat, though. He was going to have to explain those before Buffy could call him on them.

She wasn't in the room when he pushed the door open, and for a moment, he thought he might've already missed her. Then, the toilet flushed in the adjoining bathroom, and she emerged, already changed back into her street clothes.

"Did Mom tell you?" she said, her smile brilliant as she rushed up and threw her arms around his neck. "God, you have no idea how relieved I was. I just wish..."

Though he'd automatically returned her embrace, Spike couldn't stop her quick discovery of the state of his coat, and he didn't attempt to prevent her from pulling away when her voice trailed off. Her eyes were dark when they met his, searching for some kind of an explanation, but he just took her by the elbows and guided her over to the bed.

"Something's happened," he said.

Taking her hands in his, he gave her the abridged version of what had happened in Xander's rescue, watching her grow increasingly pale as the story progressed. When he reached the part about Willow's collapse, her lips parted, her breath hitching as if she was going to speak, but nothing came out. She just continued to listen as he detailed how Havi had disappeared with the body.

"Then, maybe she's not dead," Buffy said. "Maybe Havi's got some secret weapon with the Guardians to help protect her."

"I don't think so, pet." His hand was shaking as he reached up to brush back a strand of hair from her cheek. "If Red was still alive, her magic wouldn't be on the blink. And your mum told me that your scan came up clean this time."

"What does..." But the question faded as her brain made the connection. "That was Willow?" she whispered. "What did she do?"

"It was just a protection spell," he said dismissively, hoping that treating the subject so would make it seem far less important than it actually was. "It wasn't ever meant---."

"You knew?"

There was no denying the hurt accusation in her eyes, but she was already speaking before he'd finished nodding.

"You knew all along," she said. "You knew, and you didn't tell me? I thought...I asked you how many times, and you never even hinted that..."

"Buffy---."

The pieces were falling into place too quickly for him to interrupt though, and he could only watch as she tore away and began pacing the length of the room.

"We were supposed to be partners!" she exclaimed. "You promised, and...I can't believe you let her do that to Schmoo, after all your words about keeping the baby safe. God, I can't believe you made me think something was seriously wrong. That shadow..."

It was the final puzzle piece slipping effortlessly into place that made her stop. Her hands had been fluttering as she moved, but now, they came to rest on the swell of her stomach, her eyes widening as the rest of the color drained from her face.

"It's gone," she whispered. "There wasn't anything there. That means...Oh my god, Willow..."

He caught her before she crumpled, pulling her into his chest before they sank to the floor together. Her rattled sobs made both of them shake, drawing Spike's tears back to the fore, but he murmured every word of apology and every wish of condolence he could muster. It was hard to celebrate the life that bound them together when another's brilliance had been extinguished. Spike was just relieved that Buffy allowed him to share her grief. He was going to be grateful for anything she threw his way until she'd forgiven him for his involvement in Willow's spell. She and the little one were all that mattered any more.

*************

Wesley waited until Oz and Xander had left to take the latter home before cornering Giles in the kitchen.

"I know this isn't the best time," he said quietly, "but I fear that Willow's death might have further reaching consequences than you realize."

Giles didn't move away from where he fussed over the kettle. For some reason, he was remarkably insistent about making a pot of tea. He was using the excuse that he needed to offer something to Graham, who had stayed behind, but Wesley knew that it was more likely to keep from thinking too closely about what had happened.

"Oh?" His casual comment could've been a response to the state of the weather.

Wesley angled his body so that Giles had no choice but to look at him. "Lydia's call earlier?" he prompted.

"What of it? I thought you said..." Understanding made Giles hesitate, and he glanced away from the teabags in his hand. "You don't truly believe that Esme's collapse has anything to do with Willow?" he said.

"The timing is suspicious, don't you think?"

"Esme's powerless. It's ludicrous to assume she had anything to do with what happened."

"I'm not. I'm assuming she might be involved in the aftereffects."

Shaking his head, Giles returned to making his tea. "She's old. Nothing has happened that can't be attributed to her age."

"Except the timing of it." He followed the other Watcher into the other room, ignoring Graham hovering in the corner. This was no longer the time for discretion. "Willow's magic often acted of its own volition. Protecting its vessel. Taking control. Yes, she was gaining some mastery over it, but in the end, it was still almost a separate entity. What if...what if Willow's death forced it to seek out safety? What if it decided to return to Esme?"

Clearly, the possibility hadn't occurred to Giles, and he visibly paled. "That's a...rather large leap of logic," he said, though his voice lacked conviction.

"Didn't Willow's original spell act almost the same way?" Wesley pressed. "In your reports of what happened in London last summer. Didn't you say that when she broke the rod that contained Esme's magic, it returned the magic to its source?

"Eventually. But that was a different spell. Rose was the one who transferred the magic from Esme to Willow, and we never learned just how she changed the spell to get it to work as she did."

"But the possibility exists. And Willow fell unconscious after receiving the power, just like Esme has now. The similarities are too many to ignore, Rupert."

He wasn't sure if the fact that Giles had no immediate response was because he believed Wesley or that he thought his theories rubbish. Graham took the tea Giles offered, but the way the young man's inscrutable gaze met Wes' left him uneasy.

"What are you suggesting then?" Giles said. "We couldn't control Esme when she was at full strength. If you're right, we're going to be in the same dire straits when she wakes again."

"We need to confer with the others," Wesley said. "Perhaps we can---."

"You need to kill her."

Both Englishmen swiveled their heads to stare at Graham in disbelief. "I don't remember asking for your opinion," Giles said coldly.

Graham shrugged. "You're the ones talking in front of me. I'm just saying what you two are obviously too scared to."

"We don't murder people."

"No, you just kidnap them."

Giles took a menacing step closer, but Graham didn't flinch. "I still have my chains," he warned.

Wesley was disappointed when the young man didn't reply. Graham had been right. That had been exactly the conclusion to which he'd been hoping to lead Giles. It was the only possibility he could see that would solve the potential issue of a rogue witch nobody could control.

"We'll talk to Buffy," Giles said, turning away from his confrontation. "She often comes to rather unorthodox solutions. I'm sure she'll have some ideas."

Wesley nodded, though his heart wasn't in it. Somehow, he couldn't shake the feeling that delaying action would prove detrimental in the long run. Giles was just too blinded by his grief to see it clearly.

*************

Lydia's hands shook as she stuffed Esme's clothing into a suitcase. She desperately wished that she was the one being taken away and not the old woman. When Wesley discovered the extent of her involvement, she would no longer be welcome in Sunnydale, regardless of what Mr. Travers might say. It wasn't even so much what the two Watchers would do that scared her. If Spike learned that she'd turned on him, she knew that their past history would not be enough to save her from his wrath. He was possessive of the baby; when he learned she was planning on using it against him and Buffy, he'd kill her without batting an eyelash.

But Mr. Travers had been adamant when she'd called him.

"The only doctors I trust are our own," he'd said. "A removal team will be there within the hour."

"What about Willow?" she'd countered.

"Esme can hardly be useful in Ms. Rosenberg's education if she's unconscious."

"And Wesley? How am I supposed to explain Esme's sudden disappearance to him?"

"The team will take the appropriate actions to ensure you're not indicted for this." Mr. Travers had hung up before she could argue with him further.

Esme was still unconscious, just as she had been ever since collapsing in the kitchen. Her pulse was thready, her breathing too rapid for a woman her age. Frankly, Lydia was convinced that it was related to her old age and not something grim as Mr. Travers seemed to believe.

But she was under orders, and she would follow those orders through, praying that right would win out over wrong in the end, praying even more that the side she had chosen was the right one.

*************

The air around the well rippled from the vigorous magics that suffused the cavern, the lapping of the water almost violent where it pounded into the bodies that were submerged within the pool. Neither moved, though one still pulsed with just the faintest emanations of life. It had been that way ever since Havi had placed Willow in the well, growing increasingly vehement when she'd lain alongside her. The Guardians had work to do. That work was creating a din.

When the voice came through, it was nearly eclipsed by the other sounds, a soft whisper in the cacophony of chaos. Nothing happened. Nothing changed. The magic continued.

"You have to stop," the voice said again.

Near the entrance, the air grew thicker, condensing into something almost tangible. Long white hair became visible first, and then the arch of a high cheekbone. Before anything more could sharpen into focus, the form started moving though it made no noise as it approached the well.

"Your presence is not required here," the voice of the Guardians said.

The noise of the magic didn't abate, and the form turned toward Havi's now inert body. "This isn't how it's supposed to be," the newcomer said. "You know this. I told you this."

"It does not matter. This is the choice the Child of Life has made."

"Then unmake it. I did not go through everything that I did for Havi to die."

Enough of the form had materialized for distinguishing features to now be seen. Rose Rhodes-Fanshaw glared at the well, though her anger was clearly directed at the other Guardians rather than the two young women in its waters.

"This is no longer your battle," the voice said. "You have paid your dues. Go and rest, Rose."

"I can't. You're about to make a serious mistake, and if you think I can stand by without saying anything, then you're not nearly as attuned to right as you should be."

The air seemed to sigh, and the movement that had been enlivening the atmosphere began to ebb. Rose remained unmoving at the well's side.

"The Powers should not have intervened and sent you here," the voice finally said. "We need Willow Rosenberg as one of us. Without the Child of Life's sacrifice, this is not possible. We cannot afford to spend any more time so weak."

"You will continue to be weak if you allow Havi to die," Rose said. "Willow's power requires Havi to be at her side for many years to come. Those were the visions I saw. Why are you now ignoring them?"

"We have no choice."

"There is always choice."

"Not when there is life in the balance. You know the rules, Rose. This is how it should be."

Rose's frustration made her incorporeal form flicker in the silver and lavender light. "The fight that is to come will be lost if Havi is not there to take up arms," she said. "Already, the power has shifted. Esme has regained the use of her magic and the others grow closer to the truth every day. You would really allow the Slayer's power to fall into their hands just because of your own stubborn refusal to acknowledge other paths than your own?"

"We have no choice," the voice repeated. "A life for a life. Havi has offered hers as it should be. Willow is her charge. It is Havi's duty to do everything she can to save her."

Rose's lips pressed together, whitening impossibly in her gauzy appearance. A long minute passed where each party waited for the other to act. It stretched into two. Just as the air began to move again, Rose spoke.

"Take another life then," she said. The magic stilled. Beads of water clung to Willow's cheek in the pool, while something beneath Havi's closed lids fluttered.

"There is no other."

"You're wrong." She squared her shoulders. "I offer Baltozar Marroquin's in exchange for Willow's."

There was a gust of wind, though Rose remained unmoving. Whispers began to swell and swirl between the walls, confused and garbled so that any passing stranger would be unable to understand them. Even the water seemed agitated, absorbing the proposal but unsure what to do with it.

"You know he's not intended to wake up again," Rose continued. "If it wasn't for Havi's intervention, he would've died months ago. Taking his life now will give him purpose. It will help counter the evil that's been done."

"Why did the Child of Life not suggest this?" the voice asked.

"Because she is too honorable. It would never occur to her to offer anything that wasn't hers."

"But you have no qualms about making such a proposition."

Rose edged closer to the well. "I specifically forbade Havi to intervene when Baltozar took my life," she said. "I knew nothing short of my death would tear her from her duty to me. As a victim of his crimes---."

"A willing victim."

"Still, a victim. As such, our lives are entwined. His is mine to offer."

More whispering, more confusion. The wind rose and fell as the Guardians conferred.

"Why did you not tell Havi of her role in the upcoming fight?" they asked. "You could just have come to the Hellmouth instead of taking her around Europe and Africa while the vampire chased you."

"Because William's role is defined as well," Rose replied. "But it was never clear for which side he fought. I needed to test his allegiance, see just how willing he was to pursue what he desired. If he had failed, I would've done just as you said. But he didn't. He proved his worth to my satisfaction. What transpired was the only way."

A soft sigh rippled throughout the cavern as the voices died away. "It pains us that you've been drawn from your peace to intervene in this matter," the voice of the Guardians said. "You were a valued friend, and due to that, your opinion matters greatly to us. As you wish...so be it."

The sound of Havi's sputtered coughing drew Rose's gaze down to the well, and a small sad smile formed on her lips. "Be well," she whispered as her form began to fade again. "And be strong..."

*************

The electronic hum of the life support machine began to beep in shrill tones that sent the medical staff scurrying to Baltozar's hospital room. So little had happened there that the nurses were shocked to have to respond at all. Still, they worked as efficiently as they always did, bringing over the equipment the doctor ordered and aiding as best they could.

It was over just as quickly as it had all started.

"Somebody turn that damn machine off," the doctor grumbled, stepping away from the bed. He glanced up at the clock on the wall, comparing it with the time on his watch, as the room finally fell silent. "I'm calling it. One forty-seven. Somebody call the next of kin and let them know Mr. Marroquin has finally passed away."

To be continued in Chapter 48: Winter's Ragged Hand...