A Symphony of Echoes

A Symphony of Echoes
by Eurydice

The characters are Joss', of course, and the chapter title comes from Shakespeare's "Sonnet CXXIII."
PREVIOUSLY ON BUFFY: Oz and Graham are off to see if Maggie has anything to do with Buffy and Spike's sudden interference, Havi has left the Well to tell the others Buffy and Spike are OK, and Robin has arrived at the Well to retrieve the Slayer artifacts, only to encounter Willow...

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

Chapter 56: Thy Scythe and Thee

The taser was Maggie's idea. "Standard operating procedure," she'd said. What he'd wanted to snap back wasn't nearly as polite, so Robin had held his tongue, pretty sure that it was just a symptom of his growing tiredness. Now, though, encountering Willow when he hadn't been expecting anyone, he was willing to concede that maybe it had been a good decision. He liked Willow, but how could he possibly explain his presence in such an unlikely environment? It was obvious they were looking for the artifacts as well, though why two of them had been unconscious upon his arrival, Robin had no idea.

He stared at Buffy and Spike for what felt like an eternity. She didn't look hurt, and if he didn't know better, he would've just assumed she was asleep. That was impossible, though. Even being a Slayer, there was no way she could've found a way into the cavern in her condition; at the very least, she would've required assistance.

His gaze settled on the vampire, his sneer coming of its own volition. Spike had probably been that aid. He probably had some ulterior motive to get the girls down here, couching it in faux concern. But as quickly as the accusation came, Robin dismissed it. He'd seen firsthand how upset Spike had been when Buffy was in the hospital; if nothing else, the vampire had genuine feelings for the girl and the child she carried. As vicious as he could be with the general populace, Spike would never let harm purposefully fall on Buffy or the baby.

There was something else at work here, something Robin didn't understand. He began to regret tasering Willow so quickly. If he hadn't jumped to the conclusion that she would interfere with his operation, he might have been able to get some answers out of her. Now he would have to find the answers for himself.

Perhaps there was some sort of protection set up with the artifacts that had been triggered by Buffy and Spike, he mused. Robin glanced around, and then frowned. The only problem with that theory was that the supposed artifacts were nowhere to be seen. Maggie's assurance that he would find them in these caverns seemed increasingly erroneous, and he couldn't help but wonder if maybe Maggie wasn't as informed about this as she could be. She hadn't told him about the presence of others, and as far as he could tell, there was no place for the artifacts to be hidden. The walls were smooth, almost like glass. The only possibility was the well in the middle of the room.

Though he cast a cursory glance into the water, Robin's attention quickly shifted back to Buffy. Her breathing was slow and even, a healthy flush in her cheeks, and when he went to check her pulse, it seemed just as normal. She had to be asleep.

"Buffy," he said softly, shaking her gently. When she didn't respond, he shook her a little more forcefully. "Buffy," he said louder, but the only reaction he got was a faint echo of his voice bouncing off the cavern walls.

A quick scan of her body revealed a lack of obvious injury, as did a superficial exam of her scalp. No head wounds, no blood loss. Her condition made no sense.

The only thing he was sure of was that this couldn't be good for the baby.

Straightening, he stepped briskly back to the cavern's entrance, retracing his steps to the opening through which he'd come. The soldiers that had accompanied him waited on its other side, and he crouched down to bark out orders to them.

"Somebody widen this hole," he said. "And then get Dr. Walsh on the phone. Tell her to have a medical crew ready for us."

The baby-faced private frowned, looking Robin over. "Are you hurt?"

"It's not me. There's a pregnant woman in here, and she's unconscious."

"But what about---?"

"Just do it!"

He glared at the soldiers as they scrambled to do what he said, then dropped his backpack in order to hurry back to the cavern. Maggie would have to wait on her artifacts. The Slayer came first.

The Slayer always came first.

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

They saw the black truck pull away from Lowell House as they were slipping around the building.

"Damn it," Graham muttered. His drawn gaze followed the vehicle as it sped down the road, then disappeared around the corner.

"Something tells me they're not on their way to a hoedown," Oz said. He shifted the gym bag on his shoulder, falling into step again behind Graham as they resumed walking. "Which is a shame since I actually have a hoe in the back of the van."

"They didn't go through the tunnels. That means Walsh's orders were urgent and topside."

"You think it's about Willow and Buffy?"

"Only one way to find out."

Neither said another word until they reached the van, and it wasn't until Oz was sliding behind the steering wheel before Graham addressed him again.

"Go to the public library."

Though he pulled away in the necessary direction, Oz cast a frown at his partner. "Library's closed this early."

"It won't be for us."

The streets of Sunnydale were mostly deserted in the wee hours of the morning, and Oz made it to the other side of town in record time. When he attempted to pull up in front, however, Graham shook his head.

"Go to the service lot in the back," he instructed. "Park as close to the building as you can get. It'll be better if we're not seen going in."

He didn't understand it but did as he was told. In the lot he'd never realized was there was a beat-up Festiva with blacked-out windows and a faded "Jesus rocks!" bumper sticker on its rear. He thought he heard Graham make a pleased noise in the back of his throat, but the soldier was out of the van too quickly for Oz to be sure.

Jogging to catch up, Oz saw him slip a passkey into one of the library's back doors, holding it open just enough for both of them to slip in with minimal fuss. "You know," he said, following Graham into the darkness, "if this is about the copy of The Velveteen Rabbit that I lost in the second grade, I was acquitted on all fees."

"Not all the Initiative techs are enlisted," Graham explained, ignoring Oz's comment. The must of aged paper filled the corridor. Oz found it comforting. "If Walsh recognized someone who could be useful but knew they wouldn't pass basic, she did a private recruit. This guy is one of them."

"Like she did with Wood."

"Exactly. Except for the fact Wood could've done basic with his eyes closed." He stopped at a door that had a sliver of light visible at its bottom edge. "This guy's one of Walsh's info gurus, but as far as I know, she only uses him for emergencies. He should be safe."

"If he's so good, why doesn't she use him more often?"

Graham paused. "Walsh likes stable. This guy's...not."

They stepped into a room lined with filing cabinets and stacks of boxes. Along a narrow table on the far wall sat a man with his hunched back to the door, his fingers flying over the laptop in front of him, an open book so old that it would've had Giles salivating at his side. He was so pale that Oz knew right away he was a vampire.

"You didn't knock," the vamp said, without looking back.

Graham folded his arms across his chest, hovering near the exit. "I know."

Swiveling in his chair, the vampire turned to face them, his wiry black hair looking as if he'd been pulling at it from every direction. "That's very rude, you know. I don't go barging into Lowell House without being asked in, now do I? No. Because it's rude. Learn some manners, Miller."

"You're an HST. You're lucky I don't stake you just for the principle of it."

If it was possible, the vampire went even paler. "What do you want?" he asked.

"Information. On one of Walsh's projects."

Glints of gold flickered in the demon's eyes, and a hungry smile began to curve his lips. "Is this about the Slayer artifacts?" he asked. "I saw from the monitors that Walsh sent in another team. Or is it something else?" He rubbed his hands together. Oz thought it almost looked gleeful. "God, I hope it's something else. Give me something really good to sink my fangs into. I swear, this Hellmouth has more goodies lying around than a morgue after a massacre. I think I've even traced the Gem of Amara to be around here someplace---."

"Wait." Oz stepped forward. "Go back. What's this about Slayer artifacts?"

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

The eerie silence of the house was beginning to grow all too familiar to Giles, and he rubbed at his eyes while he waited for Wesley to pour out the fresh pot of tea. "At the very least," he said, "we can stop worrying about Buffy and Willow for a few hours. I can't say I'm pleased with these Guardians' methods, but considering they're still helping us, I suppose I can't very well argue with them."

"It gives us some time to come up with a few more incantation possibilities for Willow," Wesley said. "I'll wager we'll finally have something that will wake Buffy and Spike by the time Havi is ready to leave again."

Giles could only nod. Havi's exhausted arrival had been a necessary reprieve. Xander had been quick to send her to bed, then he and Joyce had gone out for a donut run. Giles would've liked some sleep himself, but now was not the time for it. Perhaps once Havi left for the Well again, he thought. He could grab a few hours kip while they waited for word about the others.

The phone rang while the two Watchers were sipping their tea. "Hello?" Giles said, picking it up on the first ring. There would be no dillydallying with communications today. Too much was at stake and too many people were at danger.

"I think we've got a bigger problem than we thought," Oz said without bothering with greetings.

"Then come back to the house so that we can discuss it," Giles said. "Havi returned and reported that the Guardians are responsible for Buffy and Willow's disappearance, so since they're safe at the Well---."

"Willow might be, but Buffy's not. That's part of our problem."

The sureness of Oz's tone made Giles stiffen, and he set down his teacup before he spilled any. "How do you know that? Havi said she left them safely there."

"Graham's contact turned out to be a vampire Walsh has been mining for information for the past few years. He's got his fingers in all her pies, including being piped into their network. While we were there, there were reports coming in about a team being dispatched out of town to transport an unconscious pregnant female. As requested by Robin Wood."

Giles listened in growing horror as Oz relayed how the vampire had helped Walsh locate three Slayer artifacts on the boundaries of Sunnydale. After the deaths of two soldiers attempting to retrieve them, she'd enlisted Wood's aid, who'd found the unconscious woman just an hour earlier. A team had already taken the woman away.

"It's got to be Buffy," Oz finished. "I don't know exactly where the Well is, but the area Wood was in was close to where we found Willow and Havi the other day."

"Can you trust this information?" Giles asked. "Why would Dr. Walsh enlist the aid of a vampire?"

"Because he's harmless. He has one of those behavioral chips Graham told us about. Walsh pays him in pig's blood in exchange for helping her dig around for these artifacts. Apparently, he's got quite the knack for it."

"Well, can he tell us where Buffy is located?"

"No. Graham even beat the guy up to see if he was holding back, but no dice."

"Get back to the house," Giles instructed. "We're going to have to formulate a new plan of attack."

Wesley was staring at him, waiting to hear the details of the conversation. "That did not sound good," he said after Giles had hung up the phone.

"It's not." He walked over to the sink and rinsed out his cup. There would be no more time for leisure now. "Our priorities just changed. Again."

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

He frowned when he saw his apartment building outside the car window. "What're you doing?" Robin asked the young driver.

"My orders are to take you home, sir."

"I don't think so. Take me to where Buffy Summers is."

"Sir, Dr. Walsh gave me explicit instructions---."

He stopped speaking with a flinch when Robin growled and reached for his cell phone. It took only a few seconds for Robin to punch in the right number.

"I want to see Buffy," he said before Maggie could say hello.

"I'm afraid that's not possible," she replied smoothly. "She's under observation. The doctors are very worried about her. She isn't allowed any visitors at the moment."

"Just tell me where she is. By the time I get there, I'm sure---."

"Robin, I have the best doctors checking Ms. Summers over. What you need to do right now is get some sleep. I regret that you weren't able to get the artifacts, but once you've gotten some rest, you can go back in and finish the job."

"And risk having the same thing happen to me that happened to Buffy? I don't think so, Maggie."

He should've known. Maggie spent so much of her time surrounded by secrets and conspiracies that it was inevitable he got included in those she attempted to manipulate. He'd let his respect and affection for her from his college days get the better of him. Even worse, he'd allowed his insecurities about his mother and Spike control him as well. Now, Buffy was suffering for it.

"Get some sleep," she was saying. "You're obviously not thinking clearly. When you wake up, call me and we'll discuss how we'll proceed."

She hung up before he could argue. Numb, Robin got out of the car and watched the soldier drive away. He had to fix this. Somehow, he had the sinking feeling that this mess was in large part his fault, and that once Buffy was healthy again, he would be the first person she would want to blame.

If Maggie ever let her out into the real world again. Maggie wanted a Slayer soldier, armed with the artifacts to wreak havoc on the demon world. Now that she had the real thing---not Robin as the poor cousin---there was no telling what she was going to do.

Buffy needed help. Real help. From people who had her best interests at heart.

There was only one thing left he could do.

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

Maggie watched the Slayer through the glass observation window. "You're absolutely sure?" she asked the doctor standing at her side.

"There's no doubt," came the reply. "We've tried everything we can think of. She's not waking up."

"And her vitals are all normal?"

"Completely."

Maggie sighed. "Thank you. You're dismissed."

She didn't break her gaze as the doctor walked away, leaving her to watch the sleeping Slayer in solitude. If there was nothing physically wrong with Buffy Summers, then it had to be mystical in nature. Very likely, it was a result of trying to retrieve the Slayer artifacts herself. Maggie could only wonder how it was Buffy had discovered the truth about the artifacts in the first place.

While she regretted that Robin hadn't been successful in his endeavor, perhaps it was for the better this way. She had Buffy under her control now, and once the Slayer woke from whatever magical sleep she'd been put into, she would be able to tell Maggie what kind of defense mechanisms the artifacts had in place. There was no reason for Buffy to suffer them twice.

Maggie wasn't a monster, after all.

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

As Willow struggled back to consciousness, the fleeting wish that she still had the magic defending her at the slightest provocation was her first cognizant thought. Robin wouldn't have been able to surprise her, she realized as she blinked past the ache. The magic would've leapt out and zapped him right back.

Her heart was stone. It was yet another reason to want the power back.

Pushing herself upright, Willow rubbed at her sore head, feeling the lump on her forehead from where she'd fallen and hit it. To say it hadn't been the best of days would be an understatement, but what she couldn't figure out was what Robin was doing at the Well in the first place. How had he known about it? If Giles hadn't sent him, who had?

She looked around the cavern, half-hoping he wouldn't be there. She didn't really like the idea of being tasered again. But it was the sight of the single unconscious body still by the Well that made the panic leap into her throat.

"Buffy!" Willow cried out.

Scrambling, she ran for the corridor that led above ground, calling out the Slayer's name with every step. Only echoes replied.

Buffy's absence drove her back to the cavern. "Where is she?" she shouted, stopping at the water's edge. She splashed at the surface like an impatient child in a bath, splattering it over the stone edge and onto the floor. "I know you're there! Where's Buffy? What happened? Come on!"

The water started to gurgle, but it didn't drive Willow away. "What is wrong?" the voice asked.

"What's wrong? Are you kidding me? Buffy's gone! That's what's wrong!" She slapped at the water again, though it was more out of frustration than anything else. "What did you do?"

"We did nothing." It was so calm that Willow wanted to scream. "There was no reason for alarm. The Slayer's son took her."

"Are you kidding me? Why would you let him do that?"

"Because...he is a Slayer's son." Now it sounded confused. "He made no threatening overtures, Willow. Surely, Buffy will be safe with him."

"He's working with the same people who killed me, did you know that?" Her cheeks were flushed, her anger fuelling her to start pacing. "And he hid who he really is from Buffy all semester, so no, I'm thinking Buffy really isn't all that safe right now."

"Oh. This is unfortunate to hear."

The placid tone of the water was almost more infuriating. "You have to fix this," Willow demanded. "You have to bring her back."

"Are you certain of the this man's ill intent?"

Willow came to a dead stop before the Well. "Would I be wigging out like this if I didn't completely believe that?" she countered. "Now, do it!"

There was no verbal response. The water grew more agitated, the power within the cavern becoming so thick that it made Willow quiver in resonance. She chewed at her lower lip, slim arms wrapped around her upper body while she waited, but after a very long minute, nothing had changed.

"What's wrong?" Willow asked. "Why aren't you getting Buffy?"

"We're trying." For the first time since she awoke, the Guardians sounded distressed. "We...cannot find her."

That possibility hadn't occurred to Willow. The world froze around her. "What...is she dead?" Her eyes flew to Spike. He still looked like he was sleeping. Was he suddenly alone in the park?

"We do not know. We will keep trying."

"You do that."

She went back to Spike's side and knelt on the ground. Settling her hand over his unmoving chest, Willow muttered a variation of the incantation she'd tried earlier. Spike could tell her if Buffy was safe. All she had to do was wake him up.

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

A good night's rest had done wonders for her. Esme rose at the crack of dawn feeling more alive than she had since the previous summer, fresh strength coursing through her veins, her body humming with the returned power. She wasn't foolish enough to think that she was anywhere near her full potential, but there was enough force available to her now to make her tasks here on the Hellmouth infinitely easier.

The first item on her agenda was to get the Slayer.

There were wards up at the Summers' house, keeping her out upon her first arrival. It made sense. She hadn't believed that her tinkering with Buffy's sleep would go unnoticed. Frankly, if Willow and the Watcher hadn't taken some sort of precaution, Esme would've been disappointed.

What did surprise her was that a cursory sweep of the house revealed no trace of the Slayer or Esme's magical signature.

The others were talking inside, and Esme masked her presence in order to eavesdrop on them without detection. There were voices she didn't recognize, mostly male, and their constant talking over one another made it difficult to discern what exactly was being said. Soon enough, though, she had the bare bones of the story. It was sufficient for her to know that the Summers' house was not where she needed to be.

Buffy had been kidnapped from whatever place of safety they'd been keeping her. Apparently, young Robin's employer, Dr. Walsh, was responsible.

With no more reason to linger, Esme returned to her hotel room. It took little effort to cast the locator spell for Buffy, but the results were vague and confusing. There was no doubt she was still in Sunnydale, but someone had gone to great lengths to hide her presence with some sort of powerful cloaking spell. Nothing Esme tried could break through it.

Dr. Walsh, however, knew where Buffy was. Esme had to get to her before the others did.

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

The cacophony was beginning to wear thin. Everybody seemed to have an opinion on how to save Buffy, but none of the suggestions gave Giles any hope that they'd actually succeed. Most were suicidal, at best. While he was certain Spike would have no qualms about acting on any of them, Giles wasn't quite as willing to make such callous sacrifices. He was sure Buffy would agree with him.

"For the last time," he said, nearly shouting in order to be heard, "we are not simply charging in! We don't know where she is, we don't know how she's being guarded, and we are not prepared to face an army of unknown proportions."

"It's not exactly unknown," Graham interjected.

The glare Giles shot him was withering. "Regardless, we must be sensible about this if we wish any chance of success. The last thing Buffy would wish would be for anybody else to be hurt, simply for her sake."

"What we need is an inside man," Oz said, glancing at Graham.

"I guess that would be me then."

All eyes turned to the doorway where Robin Wood stood, his arms folded across his chest. Nobody had even heard him enter.

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

The guard snapped to attention when he saw Dr. Walsh approach. His eyes remained forward as she passed and looked through the observation window, a smile brightening her features much more than normal as she gazed at the young woman inside.

"How's our patient?" she asked

The guard hesitated. "It's been quiet, ma'am," he replied.

"I'm going to...review her chart." She gestured toward the window. "Is there a way to cover this so that I can have some privacy?"

He frowned, but turned and pressed the button to draw the electronic blind. Within seconds, the window was obscured from anyone looking in.

"Excellent," Dr. Walsh said. She was still smiling as he released the lock on the door for her. "Thank you."

He remained at his post as the door clicked shut behind him, though it was hard not to try and listen to the soft murmur of her voice within. Was Dr. Walsh really talking to an unconscious patient? Weird. But then again, she wasn't exactly the queen of normal. He'd seen her do a lot of weird shit since he joined the Initiative.

He snapped to attention again when one of the doctors passed in the hall. The doctor hesitated when he saw the closed window and turned back to address the guard.

"Why is this drawn?" he asked.

"Dr. Walsh's request. She's inside with the patient. She requested privacy."

"Really?" His bespectacled gaze drifted to the door. "I thought she'd gone back to her office to do some paperwork."

A moment later, the doctor shrugged and continued walking. When the corridor was empty again, the guard released the breath he'd been holding.

Yep. Weird shit.

Maybe it was time to start thinking about a transfer.

To be continued in Chapter 57: Some Child of Yours...

Robin's arrival did what Giles' raised voice couldn't. It stopped the arguing about how to help Buffy and re-focused everybody's attention on the man in the doorway. The only thing that Giles regretted was that he wasn't the first to reach Robin.

"You selfish bastard!" Wesley's forearm was pressed violently against Robin's windpipe, his extra inches allowing him an advantage in spite of the other man's larger muscle mass. "You, of all people, should know what she goes through. What she has gone through. Did your mother's death teach you nothing?"

To his credit, Robin didn't fight back, though Giles strongly suspected he could take Wesley if it came to hand to hand combat. "She taught me to treasure life," he said tightly. "I was worried about Buffy's baby, which was why I got her out of there. I did it for her own good."

The end of the sentence was choked off when Wesley pushed harder against his throat. "Because of you, Buffy's now in even greater danger."

Carefully, Giles grasped Wesley's arm and pulled it away. "And as satisfying as it would be to take our frustration out on Robin, we still have the problem of getting Buffy back to safety before Esme finds her."

"She has her powers back," Giles explained. "And she's targeted Buffy again. We think it's because she's interested in the Slayer artifacts." His eyes narrowed, his anger only barely concealed. "Just as your friend—Dr. Walsh—is."

"But she can't have her magic back," Robin argued. "I just saw Willow. She was fine."

Oz stepped forward. "She wasn't earlier. How did you know she needed to get hurt in order to lose the magic?"

Robin looked like a cornered animal, intelligent eyes darting around to the various men in the room. He realized quickly that avoiding the answers they sought would do him no good and sighed in resignation.

"Esme told me. She wanted to make a trade with me, though we never really agreed on it. But she said Willow had to die in order for her to get her power back. When I saw her, Willow looked more than alive."

Unexpected panic made Robin dart forward, only to be slammed back against the wall again by Wesley. "She's going to think I had something to do with that," he said quickly. "We have to stop her before she gets to Buffy."

"Not that I don't agree, but why are you so adamant about this all of a sudden?"

Giles' blood ran cold when Robin explained, but it served to fuel the group into action again, returning their arguments to getting someone into the Initiative in order to create the diversion necessary to find Buffy and get her out.

"I know this is bordering on suicidal," Xander said, "but what about all those demons you guys kept kidnapping? You didn't kill all of them, did you?"

Giles caught Xander's germ of an idea, his eyes almost gleaming. "Then perhaps it would be in our best interest if they weren't," he said. "If we can't fight the soldiers, the demons will."

"That's for us to figure out." With one last deadly glance at Robin, Giles bent over the dining room table, grabbing a pen to start sketching out the plan. "Let's do it."

It was ridiculous how trusting some of these people could be, Esme thought as she looked over the equipment in the Slayer's room. Of course, some of it had to do with the glamour she adopted. Obviously, Dr. Walsh was a woman of power and respect. Using that was the smartest thing Esme could've done in getting to Buffy.

Thankfully, the Slayer still slept, the effects of the tea working just as Esme had prescribed. Her color was good, as was her breathing, and when Esme put away the chart that said just how little they'd been able to do with Buffy, it was all she could do not to laugh out loud with glee at how easily this was turning in her favor. Once Buffy was awake and under her control, the rest of it would be simple. Eternal life was finally going to be Esme's.

Resting a single hand on the Slayer's chest, Esme closed her eyes and uttered the incantation necessary to break the effects of the tea. The power crackled through her veins, burning in a rage to be released, but as it attempted to flow free of Esme's control, a violent tide swelled back toward her, frightening her enough for her to snatch her hand away and break the spell.

Her dark eyes flew to the Slayer's face, searching for any hint of what might have caused the backlash. Buffy slept on, peace still evident in her lax features.

Carefully, Esme tried again, exerting more control along the lines of the incantation as she attempted to wake the girl up. This time, she saw the swell as the blockade it actually was, stopping again in time to prevent any harm to herself.

She couldn't break the effects of the tea. Something was anchoring the Slayer within the dream world the magic constructed.

When Esme had altered the spell, she'd done it using the only catalyst she had on hand---the unborn child. It carried with it both Buffy and Spike's DNA, creating the bridge through which Buffy could cross. But if Esme was now being stopped from drawing the Slayer back over that bridge, that meant there was something on the other side holding her there.

Fury welled inside Esme, and she took a step away from the bed before it leaked through and hurt the Slayer. Spike had taken some of the tea. Even if he was present, she wouldn't be able to wake Buffy. A circuit had been closed with his arrival within the dream world, and there was no way for Esme to breech that now.

In the present circumstances, Buffy was untouchable. What Esme needed to do was take away one of the factors that had closed that particular door. Her eyes drifted to the swell of the Slayer's stomach.

As she leaned back against Spike's chest, Buffy sighed, letting her muscles melt into his lean frame. She felt guilty for being in such a good mood. Spike had told her about everything that was going on back at the house, and while she was desperate to return and get everything fixed, she was also enjoying this brief respite for the luxury it was.

It was weird seeing Spike in the sunlight. The pallor of his skin was even more pronounced in the golden ambience of the park, and the white shirt he'd always worn didn't help make him look any healthier. His hair was brighter, too, but after an amused comment about needing sunglasses, Buffy had let that tease go. Still, in the pretend daylight, a softness seemed to return to Spike's features that she had to admit she saw very rarely any more. It reminded her so much of William that, more than once, she had to stop herself from calling him that out loud.

"Is it me or does it seem to be taking them an awful long time to figure out how to wake us up?" she mused, her fingers toying with stray blades of grass.

"It's you," Spike replied. He chuckled when she slapped at his knee and wrapped his arms more tightly around her. "Red will suss it out," he added. "The girl's not nearly as powerless as she'd like to think."

She stopped, a sudden tightening around her abdomen sucking the air from her lungs.

Spike noticed the change in her body language right away and helped her sit up. "What is it?" he asked, his voice laced with concern.

Buffy frowned, and her hand automatically strayed to her stomach. "I don't know," she admitted. "It's--."

Bracing his arm around her back, Spike laid her out onto the grass, though it took all of Buffy's will not to curl into a ball and protect the baby. His hands drew up her tunic to rest upon her stomach, and she could feel Schmoo lashing out against his palms. Fighting.

"No. It's not the same." Buffy gasped, every stab making it even harder to breathe.

She could hear it in his voice that he almost hoped it was the latter. Because they both knew that Buffy was in a better position to fight for her life than the baby was. She hated having to take that away.

"It's Schmoo." She sucked in air to try and steel against the pain. "Something's wrong."

There was a dull ache behind Maggie's eyes, and she gripped the edge of her desk in order to pull herself upright. Her fingers scrambled across the smooth surface, scattering papers and pens as she reached for her telephone. The old woman had packed a wallop; Maggie's men needed to be alerted to the witch's presence, though she wasn't entirely sure how they were going to be able to stop her.

The bitter taste in her mouth was unexplainable. When the old woman had released the magical blast that had knocked Maggie out, there had been a searing pain within her chest, followed by a certainty that she was having a heart attack. Falling unconscious had been a welcome relief. It was interesting to note the other effects of the attack, though she would have to make a note of them later.

Her hand was shaking as she punched in the extension for the secluded infirmary where the Slayer was being held. The guard's greeting was interrupted by her curt tones.

"Buffy Summers is to be moved to isolation," she ordered. "And I want her guards tripled until further notice."

"Yes, ma'am." She held the line while she listened to him repeat her instructions to another soldier, but a new voice—one of the doctors, she thought—kept him from returning right away. When he did, there was a hesitancy in his voice.

"Ma'am? Dr. Wilson says I'm going to need your level five security clearance in order to do as you request."

More voices in the background, and then the shrill ring of an alarm began to sound.

The guard came back on the line. "The monitors have gone crazy in Ms. Summers' room," he explained. "Dr. Wilson's run to see what's going on."

Maggie blocked out the fear his protestation elicited as she bolted for the doorway. She had to get to the Slayer before it was too late. Any hesitation, and she was convinced that all would be lost.

Esme hadn't considered the monitors. The sudden shock of hearing them go off made her jerk away from where she'd been touching the Slayer's abdomen, her gaze sliding to the flashing lights at the side of the bed. All it took was a quick charge to turn them off, but already, she could hear the running of feet in the hallway.

The door flew open and a young dark-haired doctor came racing in, followed by the guard who'd been on the door, as well as a few others. The doctor did a double-take when he saw her, eyes narrowing as they swept over her, but his next barked order held no hesitancy.

"Arrest her!" he commanded the guards. "She's a fake. I just got off the phone with Dr. Walsh myself."

Three of the soldiers rushed toward Esme, but a blast from her palm sent two of them to the floor. The doctor stopped where he'd been advancing.

Her lip curled into a malicious smile. "Waking her up, which it would appear is more than you've been accomplishing."

He jabbed a finger at the now-silent monitors. "Those were on the baby, so I'm only going to ask you one more time. What did you do?"

"I believe I answered that question already. No wonder you've failed so abysmally."

The doctor didn't even blink as he uttered the order to shoot. Esme had no choice but to teleport herself out of the room if she wanted to survive. It was too soon for her to be exhausting her magic so thoroughly, and she'd already expended quite a bit doing what she could to take care of the issue with the baby.

Willow felt like she was going to cry. Nothing she was doing with Spike was doing any good, and now, all of a sudden, his peaceful slumber was far from peaceful. Only minutes earlier, his brows had drawn into a straight line, his eyes flickering ever more violently behind his closed lids. He was dreaming—well, he'd always been dreaming, but it looked like what had been a calm walk in the park was now a nightmare.

The permutations on the incantation fell from her lips, one after another, faster and faster until the words became a blur, her tongue increasingly numb as it tripped and stumbled. Spike began to grow agitated, his muscles twitching. He even knocked her over at one point.

"This isn't working!" she shouted in frustration. She'd heard very little from the Guardians since their aborted attempts to bring Buffy back, but that didn't mean anything. She knew they were just lurking on the periphery, waiting...for what, she had no idea.

"You have to help me!" Jumping to her feet, Willow rounded the Well to stare down into the water, watching it percolate and come back to life. "Something's wrong. Spike shouldn't be getting this upset if he's just asleep. I have to wake him up."

"We do not know how to counter Esme's spell," the voice of the Guardians said. She hated that it sounded so calm. "You know this."

"I'm close. I can feel it. I just..." She blinked. Hard. She was not going to cry. "If I had Esme's power back, I know I could do it. I wouldn't even have to try."

"Don't you think I've been trying that?" Her voice echoed against the walls as it rose in volume. "Nothing's working! It's like...it's like I'm pushing against saran wrap. There's give, and I can feel it wanting to yield, to break, but it's too strong for me to punch through. If I just had a little more power, I could do it."

For a long moment, the only sounds within the cavern were the gurgling water and the occasional shuffle of Spike's twitching body.

Willow leapt forward. Her blood was roaring in her ears. "What do you mean? How?"

"Join us. Become a Guardian and you will have all of our resources at your command."

"We did not say so because we cannot. But if you were to agree to join our ranks, we would be able to augment that which you already have. If you are this close already, our combined strength could be enough to help you find the answers for which you seek."

She didn't have a choice. She knew she didn't. And though Willow was terrified about what becoming a Guardian might mean, the possibility about having even a fraction of the power she'd had with Esme back was too alluring to resist.

Willow knelt at the edge of the Well, just as she'd done Havi do. "What do I have to do?"

If she never saw the park again, Buffy thought it would be too soon. It was just definitive proof of what was keeping her from helping her baby, and the longer the pains went on, the more terrified she became that it was going to be too late. Spike's arms held her close, but not even his preternatural strength was enough to fight against what was going on. Whatever it was.

Her arms were wrapped around her stomach as she leaned into his chest. The thing she was afraid to tell him was how the pain was changing. The pangs were still as strong as they'd been when they started, but over the past few minutes, the focus of them had shifted, burrowing deeper and deeper into her body until it felt like they were radiating from the base of her diaphragm, from inside the lower part of her chest. What was worse was that Schmoo's kicks were growing weaker. She wanted to think that the baby was just getting tired, but part of her feared that was wishful thinking.

She'd been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn't realized that Spike's arms had grown rigid around her. Craning her neck to meet his worried gaze, she instantly regretted it.

"You know something," she whispered, and then winced when another pain shot through her body.

The clutch of her hand stopped him from finishing the sentence. Buffy didn't want him to put voice to what was scaring the life out of her.

"No, no, no," she breathed. She squeezed her eyes shut and bent her neck. She wasn't going to consider the possibility that anything could be wrong with Schmoo. All she was going to do was believe that Willow was going to wake them up in time in order to stop whatever was happening.

And then her world disappeared. She tumbled against the soft grass as the hard arms holding her went away.

The first thing he saw was Red's wide eyes. Spike almost shouted in relief. The witch had finally come through.

Then he realized he wasn't in the Summers house any longer. Even worse, he could only hear a single heartbeat in the room around him.

"Buffy..." he gasped, but when he tried to push himself upright, a wave of nausea swamped over him, driving him to his side to retch into the dirt.

Willow's warm hands came to his shoulders, and he was mildly surprised at the nimble strength within her fingers. "What was happening?" she asked in a rush. "I know you were upset. Was...Buffy still with you?"

He wiped at his mouth, shaking his head to clear it. The room still spun around him. "Yeah." With his eyes closed, it was impossible to deny the sounds pulsing through his body, and Spike forced his nausea down to rise to his knees, waiting a moment before looking around him.

It was a cavern, but the rushing water of the well in its center was all he needed to know where he was. He also knew it was where Buffy wasn't.

"Spike..." Willow cut him off before he could ask. When he turned his head to look at her, he noticed for the first time the white streaks in her hair, how black her eyes were. "I need you to tell me exactly what was going on in the dream. It's the only way I can help."

His stomach clenched as her words forced the memory to return. "It's the little one," he murmured. "Buffy...was in pain, and then..." All of a sudden, his eyes burned from the sudden rush of angry tears. "I think the baby's dead."

Without Spike, it was a lot harder to stay calm. Buffy's fingers clawed into the soft grass, breaking through the surface of the soil as wave after wave of pain rolled through her abdomen. She could feel the dirt driving beneath her nails, felt the sharp sting of a tiny stone scraping over her cuticle, but none of that did anything to distract her from the panic mushrooming inside her flesh.

Promise after promise tumbled from her lips, vows to be better, be stronger, be nicer to skeazy informants, anything that would appease whatever was doing this to Schmoo. Desperation drove her to pledge her life itself, but when begging didn't work, Buffy grew angry.

"It's just a baby," she spat. She had to roll onto her side to ease the freshest assault. "What harm did it do to anybody? It didn't, that's what. It's an innocent, and so help me god, if anything happens to Schmoo, I swear I will hunt down whoever is responsible and beat them to death with their own spine."

He lashed out before the nausea had abated, his fist slamming into the smooth stone of the walls. While the impact created a nice shower of dust around his bleeding knuckles, the sudden vehemence of the water behind Spike distracted him from fully appreciating the respite.

"He must leave now," a lyrical voice emanating from the water said. "His presence taints everything that we are."

Spike met Willow's black eyes, but the support he expected to find there was missing. "They're right," she said. When he took a menacing step toward the well, she sidestepped to block his path. "We have to go help Buffy anyway. It's better this way."

"Go help her?" he repeated. "Why isn't she here, Red? What the hell is going on?"

"I'll explain later. But if we're going to save the baby, Spike, we have to leave now."

Tamping down the residual effects of waking up so suddenly, Spike whirled on his heel and marched toward the only exit in the cavern. He was stopped by Willow's hand on his arm, stronger than he would have expected.

"Not that way," she said. "Brace yourself. I'm going to teleport us back to Buffy's house."

"You said you were goin' to give more thought before throwing your lot in with them," Spike accused. "Have you gone completely off your bird, Red? How long was I fuckin' asleep?"

"It was the only way." Power crackled around her at the sharpness of her voice, and Spike took a wary step away, eyes narrowed as he watched to see what she might do. "I needed to wake you up and I couldn't do it on my own. It was the right decision, though. I don't regret it. Not in the slightest."

"And I'll say it tomorrow, and the day after that." Her hand returned to his arm, and the magic he could feel charging between her fingers made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. Now that he knew she was juiced, it was impossible to ignore. "Right now, though," Willow continued, "you're going to shut up while I get us somewhere we'll do a little more good."

He was helping Graham carry weapons out to the van when Oz heard her voice come from the kitchen. His heart started pounding in his chest as he rushed through his trip, each pace faster than the one previous as he ran back to the house, and by the time he saw the familiar fall of her hair as she bent over Giles' plans on the dining room table, all Oz could think of was scooping Willow into his arms. He didn't even notice that anyone else was in the room until after he was hugging Willow.

"You're awake," he said to Spike when she'd pulled away. The blood on the vampire's knuckles made Oz's nose twitch. "What happened?"

"It's the little one." Oz had never seen Spike look so bleak, even when Buffy had been in the hospital. "When I was with Buffy...its heart stopped beating."

"It's got to be Esme," Willow said. As she spoke, she turned to look at Oz, startling him with the blackness of her eyes and the white streaks in the hair at her temples. "When the Guardians looked, they couldn't find Buffy, but I'll bet she did. She's got resources they can't even imagine. It's one reason why they were so eager to bring me in."

Slowly, he lifted a hand and touched her hair. "Are they responsible for you going Rogue?"

She blushed but didn't back down. "It was the only way to get the power I needed to wake up Spike. I'm not up to the level I was with Esme's power, but still...it's good. It's...different." She squeezed his arm reassuringly. "It's different good."

Willow and Giles exchanged a quick look. "The only thing I can," she said. "Find Buffy and help her."

He tensed. That meant only one thing. "You died the last time you went there." His voice was uncharacteristically sharp, his words fast. "And you said it yourself. You're not as strong this time as you were before." Pulling her into his arms, his hand came up to the back of her neck, holding her still while he breathed in her scent. Though there was something new in her smell, a soft earthy tone that hadn't been there before, it served to calm him enough to say, "I can't lose you again."

"You won't." Her lips skimmed over his jaw and then she was pulling away. This close, he could see that her eyes weren't completely black like he'd thought. Hints of hazel peeked through the ebony. "Spike's going with me."

"As am I." Havi's voice rang out from the doorway. She'd been preparing to go with him and Graham, but Willow's arrival had obviously changed that plan. "She is my responsibility, more than ever before. I will die before I allow anything to happen to Willow this time."

"So, see? All good." Willow smiled brightly. "Now shoo. If we're going to save the baby, I can't be trying to convince you that I'm really not the Wicked Witch of the West."

Oz retreated to the doorway, watching Havi, Spike, and Willow argue between themselves about the plans spread out on the table. Before he could speak up again, they disappeared.

A strong hand came down on his shoulder, prompting him to glance back at Graham's solemn face. "The van's loaded," he said. "We need to go."

Though he would drive like a maniac to get to the Initiative entrance Graham wanted on campus, Oz knew it would be nothing compared to what Willow was doing. She was there already, fighting for the one thing that could help Buffy the most.

It was taking all of his power to concentrate on Willow and not let loose the rage that boiled in the pit of his stomach. She'd teleported them to the same entrance they'd used to rescue Harris, and now they stood within the belly of the Initiative, staring at the same hallways, plotting another search mission. It was too quiet, and the silence made his skin crawl.

Buffy was here. All their evidence had given the underground station as her location, and Spike knew he couldn't argue with it. But there wasn't even a whiff of her sweat lingering on the air, not a familiar pulse to make his body sing. He was left feeling handcuffed, only able to follow Willow like a puppy dog and hope that she found Buffy in time.

Time was tunneling around them. Though he'd been in the cavern just a few minutes before, Spike was convinced that each second was stretching longer than the one previous, weakening their chances of helping the baby before it was too late. He followed after Willow as she led them through empty corridors, hating that each step was so careful, so methodical, knowing that they had to be if they wanted to escape detection. All he could hear was his heavy boots echoing against the cement.

She stopped before a steel door marked "Restricted." From the other side, Spike could hear the distant wail of alarms and muffled masculine shouts, and he shouldered past Havi to reach for the curved handle, determined to snap it off and get through to Buffy.

Willow's fingers were hot against his hand, and he froze as she guided it to the control panel by the jamb. Curving her palm around the back of his hand, she muttered something Latin under her breath.

Electricity surged through him, the feeling of power being sucked away pulling at his gut. The panel sparked beneath his palm and the door slid silently open.

He didn't know how she was using landmarks to navigate when every hall looked like the one last, but with a step too determined to deny, Willow led them deeper into the complex, every foot going just a little bit quicker. The voices turned into a din. More than one soldier came rushing through, and when she took the same path as the third, Spike realized she was using them as beacons for Buffy.

They came to a stop before a large window. The soldiers that stood in the hall were oblivious to their presence, absorbed in watching what was happening on the other side of the glass.

"I cast a spell that makes us blend in a bit more," Willow explained. She pushed her way past a soldier nearly twice her size in order to get closer to the window.

The smile that had started to creep across her face disappeared as she was finally able to see through the glass. Spike heard Havi's sharp intake of breath behind him and cursed his lack of stature that made it impossible to see over the other men's heads.

"Spike?" Willow asked. Her voice was faint, and she edged backward, reaching blindly to grab onto his coat and Havi's hand. "Hang on."

His vertigo at her teleportation was nothing compared to seeing the chaos frozen in time around him. Bodies stopped in mid-stoop, mid-reach, mid-speech, like some cosmic power had called, "Statues," for everyone but the trio.

"I hit the pause button," Willow said when she saw the confusion on his and Havi's faces. "It's not going to last long, but it should buy us a minute or two to see what's wrong with Buffy."

"I thought without Esme's power that your magic was not capable of such things," Havi questioned.

"It's probably part of joining the Guardians," she explained, scurrying to the side of the lone bed in the room. Spike and Havi were forced to stand at the foot; there were too many white coats surrounding it elsewhere. "I'm not questioning it right now."

Though she slept, his Slayer was very obviously in pain, her face contorted into a grimace that matched those he'd seen back in their dreams. The doctors had pulled back the blanket and pushed up her top in order to expose her swollen stomach, glistening with the jelly they used for the ultrasound that was pressed against the swell.

"Red..." It was choked from his throat, his eyes burning as he stared at the woman he loved lying so helplessly in front of him. Willow's pause spell had done more than stop the humans from moving around; it had stopped their bodily functions as well. The only hearts he could hear were hers and Havi's.

"I know," she said. Placing her palm over Buffy's abdomen, she glanced over at the silent monitors before closing her eyes to concentrate. "Just give me a second, OK?"

Spike bit his tongue to keep from responding. The coppery tang of blood slowly filled his mouth as Willow stood there motionless, and he mentally counted off the moments as he waited for her to say something. Do something. Do anything but leave him hanging there, wondering what in hell was going on with the two most important people in the world to him.

He saw her face begin to crumple milliseconds before the first tears threatened to spill, clinging to her lashes with Red's characteristic tenacity. "No..." she whispered, and that single faint syllable was enough to chill Spike to the bone.

Her fingers were trembling as she pulled her hand away, but when she opened her eyes, she dropped her head at the same time, making it impossible for Spike to see what was going on inside her head. "It was Esme," she said. "We were right about that. Her signature's all over Buffy and the ba..." A sob cut off the last word, and she choked as she tried to swallow it back down. The tears that had refused to let go of her lashes started to fall.

"No." With a vicious shove, Spike pushed the nearest doctors out of his way, sending them sprawling to the floor as he fought to get to Willow's side. "I had to have been wrong about the little one," he rushed. "The reason I can't hear it now is because of the magic. It's not because of anything else...right?" He grabbed her elbow, jerking her to turn and face him. "Bloody hell, tell me I was wrong, Red!"

Her eyes were wet and luminous, fixed to his face. "The baby's dying," she said. "It's...shutting down, which is why you probably thought you couldn't hear the heartbeat any more. The pains Buffy's feeling...she's miscarrying, Spike."

Even while he'd been confronted with that very distinct possibility back in the dream park, a part of Spike had held on to the hope that it was something else, that there were other factors to blame, that the nightmare threatening to consume them wasn't about the little one. Now, hearing Willow's quiet declaration, so simple and incontrovertible, that hope was ripped out of his hands, out of his heart, leaving him torn and bleeding and wishing more than ever that he'd never woken up from the fucking dream in the first place.

His hand was shaking as he reached to touch Buffy, resting it next to Willow's. The gel felt cool, even to him, but it was the stillness beneath the skin that stabbed the deepest.

"What did that bitch do?" he growled. "Because I'm bloody well goin' to give it back a thousandfold. I'll make the witch drown in her own blood, right before I hang her up by her own entrails, and then cut her down so that I can do it all over again."

The smell of Willow's sweat began to fill the room. "She didn't harm Buffy, if that's any consolation," she said.

"It's not. This is goin' to kill Buffy, and you know it. Now tell me what that bitch did to my child."

Willow swallowed. "She killed its soul. The human body can't live without it. That's why it's dying."

Spike's head snapped up, hope suddenly flooding back in a torrential flood. "But you can fix that," he said. His eyes blazed. "You did it with Angel. Now you can do it for someone who actually matters."

"I can't." It wasn't just her voice beseeching him to hear her; it was the glow in her blacked eyes. "It's not that the baby's soul isn't there, Spike. It's gone. Destroyed. There's nothing there for me to put back."

Her belief in what she said was as undeniable as her earlier explanations. Spike stared at her, the air thick and leaden around his ears, as if waiting would make time flow in the opposite direction and reverse what she avowed.

Behind them, one of the doctors he'd pushed over started to stir, and the faintest of heartbeats began to fill the room again. Willow's spell was wearing off.

His mind raced. There had to be something he could do. Miracles like this didn't happen just to be yanked out of his hands; he'd lived too long and fought too hard to give up something as precious as this.

"We need to get out of here," Willow was saying. "There's nothing we can do---."

Spike grabbed her arm to prevent her from walking away. "We're not goin' anywhere," he said. "We can fix this. We have to."

She shook her head, sorrow weighing down the motion. "You're not listening to me."

The Slayer's name was a dare, and he saw Willow's lips thin as she pressed them together. "There's no soul there," she said carefully. "If there was, trust me, I'd do everything I could to try and save the baby, but I can't make something out of nothing, Spike. I couldn't have done that even with Esme's power."

No soul. No soul. The words bounced around inside his skull. He thought his head would shatter from the force of them trying to escape.

He blurted the words without even thinking, but as soon as they were out, Spike recognized it was the opportunity it was. Even when Willow gaped at him in disbelief, he pushed on.

"I know you were messin' about with tryin' to restore my soul," he said. "If the little one's is gone, what's stoppin' you from tryin' to give it mine?"

"I...I..." She interrupted her stammering to lick her dry lips. "But it's yours," she argued. "I mean, yeah, OK, you don't actually have it, but it was a part of you, and what if someday you decide you want it? There's no take-backs on this spell."

His jaw hurt from how tightly he was clenching it. "If the little one dies, trust me, Red. The last thing I'm goin' to want is something that's just goin' to make the pain of it a thousand times worse."

Her gaze flitted to the side as she contemplated the idea, but all too quickly, she was shaking her head again. "I never even tried the spell. I don't know if it'll even work."

One of the monitors sprang to life, emitting a shrill beep as the system reset itself. Willow jumped at the sound, her head snapping around to stare at the flashing red lights before turning back to face Spike.

"Nothing," she said. She grabbed his hand and entwined their fingers, then guided him to Buffy's stomach. A charge leapt between them, and any remaining color disappeared from her eyes. "You wanted warning next time, right? Consider this it."

Spike expected it to burn. Between witnessing Willow's magic over the past few months and remembering the scant details he'd heard about Angel's re-souling, he figured his role in Red's spell for the little one would hurt more than a mite. That was all right. He'd walk through Hell itself to save the baby.

As soon as Willow finished the incantation, a bolt of pain more intense than anything he'd ever felt before shot through his body, making his back arch, alerting every demonic instinct in him to tear away from the inferno streaking its way up his arm. The human instinct was stronger, though, as was the witch's grip, refusing to let Spike break the physical connection he had with Buffy and the baby. But in the midst of the mind-numbing pain was something else. Something familiar. A voice he hadn't heard in over a century.

"It's the right thing," she said. He couldn't see her, but there was no mistaking the scent of his mother's perfume, forgotten all these long years. She hovered in the periphery of his awareness, beyond the reach of the pain but there nonetheless. Spike just had no idea why.

"This thing you do, this choice you make," Anne continued. "You make me proud to be your mother, William. And I am certain that Buffy would be just as proud."

He didn't need the words of encouragement—hell, Spike wasn't even sure he wasn't hallucinating the whole thing—but the notion that his soul was in the same place as his mother's gave him hope for the little one.

A vicious flare within his chest ripped him away from his unexpected sanctuary, and suddenly Spike's eyes shot wide, blind to the military room around him. There was a fresh weight within his body, and it carried with it a grief that made the poet in him want to pull his hair out and weep. Tears burned, spilling down his cheeks as horrors unfolded before him, rivers of blood and innocent screams that dared to rip through his sanity.

He almost giggled hysterically. Too bad the witch didn't realize just how badly his fingernails were bleeding already.

Havi had been stunned into silence long before Willow started the spell. Hearing a vampire relinquish the lone thing that could separate him from the demonic hordes was unprecedented. She knew Spike cared for Buffy and the baby, but she had never imagined that it plumbed to those kind of depths. The magnitude of the sacrifice was staggering.

His roar of pain when the incantation was complete made Havi jump back, senses alert to a fight even though she knew there was no actual risk from the Spike she knew. His features shifted from human to vampire in the space of a single blink, but somehow, Willow kept him from moving away from the bed, both of their arms corded from the tension rippling through them. Buffy remained still. The only noises were the growing beeps from the machines around them.

When Spike started crying, Havi closed her eyes. She could not watch. It wasn't right.

She reacted as she'd been taught. Before any of the soldiers could lift a weapon, Havi disarmed the nearest and used the gun's butt to knock out the man at his side. When the door opened behind her, her foot shot out and slammed it closed again. A muffled scream rang out from the other side.

"Stay away from the bed," she ordered when the doctor appeared to start nearing it.

He stared at her as if she were crazy. "Ms. Summers is in serious need of medical attention. Private--."

Havi jerked the gun toward the young soldier who'd started to advance toward her. "Nobody touches Ms. Summers until my friends are done." She tried not to listen to Willow's ragged breathing, tried to ignore Spike's pained grunts.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a second soldier begin to creep forward as the doctor spoke. Havi didn't take her eyes off the white coat, but swung the gun to the side, squeezing the trigger.

The soldier screamed and fell to the floor, clutching his knee. All Initiative eyes jerked to the writhing man and the blood already staining the floor, and then came back to an impassive Havi. All were stunned into immobility.

At some point, curled into a ball within the grass, wishing that she had her mother, that she had Spike, that she had her mother and Spike, Buffy became aware that the waves through her abdomen were shifting. They were still painful, still frightening, and she desperately wanted to get her hands on whoever or whatever might be responsible, but as she laid there with her eyes squeezed shut, she could've sworn there was something new.

For the first time since the pains had started, tears spilled down her cheeks. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm so sorry, William. I did everything I could. I wanted this so badly. For both of us."

The gentle caress of a voice made the tears lessen almost immediately. "You are the bravest, strongest woman I have ever known, Buffy," she heard William say. "Don't give up on us."

"It was the night I gave you the new poem. When...we spoke of what might happen if it were possible for you to stay."

Her hand had slipped into his pocket and found the paper he'd so consciously remembered to bring, and William froze as she opened it to scan its contents. She didn't look up when she was done, but instead returned her gaze to the top of the page, swollen lips mouthing the words he'd written to complete the poem he'd composed during their first joining in the dreams. When she reached the final verse, he recited it aloud as she read.

"But I was lost in a place 'tween the sun and moon,
Where firm and figment merged this June,
And even beyond that place 'tween moon and sun,
My love that burns for her is legion."

She was smiling when he finished, her fingers tracing over the careful script on the paper. "You changed it," Buffy murmured, and looked up to see him frowning.

When she started to hand it back to him, he folded her fingers around the edge and pushed it toward her. "It's yours," William said. "I wrote it for you."

This was what he wanted her to know; this was what had spurred him to write so furiously after their fencing bout. The shift in tense in those few lines made all the difference to him.

"Because I'm not lost anymore," William said softly. "No matter what happens, no matter where the next bend in our paths takes us, you've shown me that fear doesn't have to hold me back. That I have it in me to forge onward, even if hindrances may try to prevent me from doing so. This is your true gift, Buffy. You make those who love you stronger."

"I shall be strong," William said, though his voice was growing even fainter. "I promise you that."

Struggling, Buffy sat up, wiping at her face. Newfound resolve surged through her, and she wobbled to her feet. Maybe walking would ease the pain, she thought.

They came to a halt at a junction of hallways. "Do you see any problems reaching the containment area?" Giles asked, eyes glued to the swarm of soldiers that were converging on a restricted door.

"No," Graham replied. He jerked his head in the opposite direction. "Cells are that way."

"And only enough to distract the soldiers," Giles said, raising a warning finger. "We don't want a massacre. We merely want a diversion."

Xander grinned. "Am I the only one who finds it ironic that we've started thinking of vampires as the fluffy bunny of the demon set?"

"Don't linger in the containment area," Wesley instructed. "We don't know how much resistance we'll discover when we find Buffy. The more men we have, the better our odds."

"Fighters, you mean." At their frowns, Xander shrugged. "It's just that Havi's definitely not a man, and I know for a fact that she can probably kick most of our butts. Collectively, even."

Maggie hadn't expected to see so many soldiers blocking the corridors. "Why aren't you at your posts?" she barked as she pressed her way through the throng.

"There's a disturbance of unknown origins in one of the infirmary rooms," a buck-toothed private said. "We're trying to gain entrance, but the doctor's been taken hostage and they've already shot one of the guards who was inside."

"Three, ma'am. But as far as we can tell, at least one of them appears to be human."

The private stared at her. "There's no old woman. Two young females and a male vampire."

Maggie continued walking, processing the new information. The old woman was obviously a witch, she'd already deduced. She'd taken Maggie's form in order to gain entrance to Buffy's room, and now she had changed into someone else in order to avoid detection. Maggie had no idea who the others might be.

The door was firmly closed, and one soldier leaned against the wall next to it with his head tilted back. Blood dripped from his broken nose. He tried to snap to attention when she approached, but she waved him down, pushing through to the spectator window in order to see what was going on.

At least one new face in the room was familiar. Next to an alert Buffy, Willow Rosenberg was attempting to calm her friend down, hands on her shoulders while she tried to keep her in a prone position. A tall, austere young woman was poised near the door with one of the soldier's weapons, keeping the rest of the staff away from the bed, while the vampire, dressed in black leather, was slumped against the foot. Though his lips were moving, Maggie couldn't hear what was being said.

"Get the speakers turned on now!" she barked. "I want to know what's going on in there."

She didn't take her eyes of the tableau in front of her while two soldiers scrambled to satisfy the order.

Buffy had calmed slightly in the few seconds it had taken to get audio, and her eyes were glued on the blond demon. What concerned Maggie was the way the Slayer kept clutching her stomach. When she'd called, the soldier had said the monitors were going crazy. Was Buffy in labor?

The vampire nodded. "But we don't have time to suss it all right now." Though he was attempting to sound strong, Maggie could tell that he'd been seriously injured in some fashion. His shoulders were slumped and he kept passing a weary hand over his eyes. There was no blood on the floor, however. She wondered what was causing him so much pain.

"How many times do I have to tell you people this?" Dr. Wilson piped up from the far wall. "She needs medical attention, and she needs it now."

Without a trace of emotion, the young woman with the gun swung her arm and shot at the doctor. Maggie flinched almost as strongly as Wilson did when the shower of plaster rained down on top of his head.

"You were told not to speak," she said in an oddly accented voice. "Next time, I will not miss."

Before Buffy could argue, an alarm began to peal throughout the complex, the corridor suddenly bathed in red. Half the soldiers took off in a dead run, heading toward the containment cells. When Maggie noticed that the intruders inside weren't bothered by the alarms, it took only a moment for her to put two and two together.

"Stand your ground!" she ordered. Turning away from the window, she shifted to block others from leaving. "It's a hoax. They're trying to create a diversion."

"Are not loose," she finished. "Ms. Summers' friends are attempting to get her out."

Something hard prodded in the small of her back, but before Maggie could shift to tell the soldier behind her to mind his weapon, a familiar voice whispered in her ear.

"It's actually not a hoax," Robin said. "And if you don't want to be in a wheelchair for the rest of your life, I suggest you let them go do their job."

Though she had no idea why he was doing this, she knew it was a gun he had on her. The fact that none of the soldiers were reacting meant they couldn't see the weapon. She really had no choice.

"I know what I just said, and now I'm telling you to go contain the hostiles! That's an order, private!"

One look at her unyielding face and the soldiers went scattering, pushing past to race to the source of the alarm.

Maggie was surprised when they weren't left alone, though. Robin guided her away from the door, drawing three other men into her line of sight. Her eyes widened slightly upon recognizing Xander.

He scowled but remained silent. The oldest man of the group stepped forward to the window and tapped on the glass, drawing the armed young woman's attention.

Maggie was moved further along the wall, losing her vantage point to watch what was going on inside. When the door opened, the vampire held it wide.

All the men but Robin moved to enter, but they were stopped when the oldest came to a halt just across the threshold.

When Giles knocked at the window, it wasn't just Havi who looked to see. Willow and Spike did as well, and Willow decided then and there that she'd never been so glad to see anyone in her entire life.

Then, of course, she felt the familiar tug of magic in the pit of her stomach, and the room faded around her. When she blinked next, she was standing next to the Well.

"Congratulations, Willow," Rose said with a gentle smile. "You have no idea how pleased we are with you."

Rose's smile warmed even more. "Technically, yes, but because I'm the one who set you on this path, I requested to be the one to speak with you now. The others..." Her head tilted as if she were listening to someone unseen to Willow. "...were reluctant to disturb my rest."

Willow took a step closer. Though Rose looked solid, there was a gossamer quality to her outline that told otherwise. It was just a little creepy. "What are you congratulating me for?" she asked.

It took a moment for the meaning to sink in. When it did, righteous fury swelled within Willow's stomach.

"If you're trying to tell me this was all some kind of test," she said, and she could feel the energy start to spark between her fingertips, in spite of her exhaustion, "so help me, Buffy isn't the only one you're going to have to worry about kicking your ass."

"It was, but not the sort you believe." Rose gestured toward the edge of the Well. "Sit. Let me explain."

The last thing Willow wanted was to blithely follow whatever instruction Rose was doling out, but she was tired from the effects of helping Buffy and sitting sounded like a really good idea anyway. She didn't take her eyes off the Guardian as she did, though, and she stubbornly held herself more stiffly than she normally would to prove she wouldn't relax completely.

Saying she wasn't a girl would've been less shocking. "What?" Willow blinked in confusion. "But...I had more power...and the Well...we did that...thing." Her pout was inevitable. "There was chanting."

"You were given a small boost with your magic," Rose explained. "Both to let you think that you had joined the ranks and to give you the power necessary to wake William."

"Was all you," Rose finished. "The test I speak of was that to determine whether or not you were worthy of the honor." She smiled. "You more than surpassed my expectations."

The possibilities flitted through her head so rapidly, Willow couldn't grasp onto any one in order to make sense of it. "I don't understand," she said. "Are you saying you let Buffy's baby get hurt just to see if I could save it? Because that's just---."

"No." Rose was quick to cut her off. Taking a deep breath, she came to sit down next to her, the energy of her form creating a buzz along Willow's skin. "Do you know why I left London last summer?" she asked.

Rose was silent for a long moment. "I saw Esme win. I saw Buffy's child die, and I saw a Slayer and a vampire go mad with grief." She began pleating the fabric of her dress, her voice soft. "I often think that my visions are as much a curse as they are a blessing."

"What does that have to do with me?" Willow swallowed down the lump that had formed in her throat. "Did my spell...not work?"

Instinctively, Rose reached out to pat her hand in reassurance, but remembered her incorporeal state in time. "Your spell was a miracle," she said. "It was your test. To see if you had it within you to take on Guardian duties. The others were not pleased I brought William into it, but for me, he proved his diligence. He followed Havi and myself to find the answers he wanted, and only gave up when my death thwarted his efforts. His arrival here in Sunnydale didn't necessarily start changing the potential outcome for the baby, but it did contribute. None of us knew if you could do it, or really, how you would. We just knew you had to be given the opportunity to try." She smiled. "And you were splendid. That spell...it had nothing to do with Guardian power, Willow. That was entirely yours."

The praise was overwhelming, but somehow she managed to murmur, "It was Spike's, too. He's the one who insisted I try using his soul to save the baby."

Rose laughed. "And you have no idea how that is flummoxing a great deal of the higher powers," she said. "A vampire volunteering such a selfless act? An unsouled vampire? There are many convinced this child is the next apocalypse."

The Guardian sobered. "All right is not completely accurate," she said carefully. "But it has a soul again, and most importantly, it has a fighting chance."

Willow hadn't known just how wound up she was until she heard that her spell had worked. The sobs ripped from her throat, relief and exhaustion spending themselves from her thin frame, and she buried her face in her hands as she wept. She had seen the torment Spike had gone through during the course of the re-souling; she knew exactly how devastated Buffy would have been if the baby had died. All any of them ever wanted was the right to live like any other human being. It was in the doctors' hands now.

Her head snapped up as a frightening thought came to mind. "Esme," she said. "You said, she won. Is that still true?"

Rose hesitated. "It is impossible to know for certain. My visions ceased when I died, and already, the world is a different place to the one I saw."

"Yes. Destroying the baby's soul would have been very draining for her, but she will regroup quickly. Her power grows stronger with every passing hour."

Willow leapt to her feet. "She's going to go after Buffy again as soon as she has a chance," she said. "She needs her for whatever she thinks she's going to get from the artifacts."

"Kind of, in the very non-specific sense. I know Esme wants them, which means we have to stop her from getting them. If we even knew where they are."

The water in the Well began to bubble and churn, drawing Willow's eyes to the rippling surface. "The Guardians protect the artifacts until it becomes necessary for them to be used," the crystalline voice from the Well said.

"But we still have to figure out how to stop her," Willow argued. "We have to hit her while she is still weak."

"There is only one way to stop Esme," Rose said. Her face was solemn. "Give her what she wants."