Chapter 37 - Into the Fray

Angel meets us, not inside the Wolfram and Hart building, but at an anonymous looking entrance to an apparently different building. According to Wes, it's one of several ways into the building used only by senior employees or clients who, for whatever reason, don't want to be seen doing business with a firm of Wolfram and Hart's reputation. And I wonder why that might be.

Once inside, the discrete security melts away at the sight of Angel. To my surprise, Fred's there too, and she greets us warmly, if a little nervously when it comes to Spike. Angel starts giving us a sales pitch which sounds pretty bogus to me, but which doesn't seem to alarm any of the others who're around. In fact, part of the reason it sounds so bad is the fact that Angel seems acutely embarrassed by the whole thing. I can hear it in his tone of voice, and Spike's smirk shows he noticed too. I glare at Spike to make sure he keeps his mouth shut, and we continue from the reception area into a private lift for which Angel produces a key.

Once inside, Angel hits a code, and the lift descends rapidly.

"Those security staff don't have any way of knowing where this lift is going once I've activated my personal code," he informs us. "Hopefully, they believe you're just potential clients come to view the facilities. In fact, we're going to one of the lowest basement levels."

"Any particular reason?" I ask. "Lucy didn't say anything about the level of the building we need to be on."

"Privacy," Angel replies. “The upper basements are used for storage and so on and don't have a lot of staff, but there's always the possibility of meeting someone who might just ask questions we'd rather not answer. The lower we go, the less likely that is to happen."

"I take it we're going to the catacombs," Wes states, looking to Angel for confirmation.

"Yes. I gave some thought to the best area of the building, and that seemed where we're least likely to be interrupted. No one currently has any reason to be there."

"The catacombs?" Spike asks. "We're not in bloody Rome, mate."

"Naturally," Wes agrees, stepping between Spike and Angel as he sees Angel stiffen at Spike's tone. "It's just what they're known as on the building plan. I suspect it's whatever was on this site a long time before the current building, or even, before the city itself was founded. It's a small group of interconnecting caves which we believe were once used for some sort of demon worship, but the best minds in the company have agreed has no remaining mystical energy associated with them."

"If it's so dead, why is it accessible from the rest of the building?" Spike insists, asking Wes, but giving Angel a sidelong glance as he does so.

"I did actually investigate this when we first arrived. Apparently, that level of the basement was intended for further storage, and that's why it was excavated. This was back in the thirties, and there was a particular project on the books which required some rather specialised storage. Anyway, the cave system was found, and people were sent in to investigate, but before the investigation was complete, the project was cancelled, and the catacombs remained undisturbed."

"When Angel told me what you planned, and that he was going to bring you down here, I agreed it seemed to be a good option," Fred offers. "I know a bit about opening portals, and some of them can get a bit out of hand. Where we're going? It withstood every earthquake California has experienced in more years than we've been keeping records about earthquakes. It should be the safest option."

She turns her attention to Willow. "I don't know exactly what you're doing, but Angel did say he could do with someone to keep you company while the rest of you are gone."

Willow smiles her thanks, but remains quiet, trying to focus on what she’s about to do.

She doesn't add the possible need to get Willow out of the building if things go wrong, but I know she means that too.

The elevator lurches to a stop, and the door opens to reveal an anonymous-looking corridor.

"Doesn't look a lot like catacombs to me," Spike mutters, under his breath but loud enough to be heard.

Angel ignores the comment, but Fred seems happy to answer.

"Well, no. To get there, we have to go down some stairs. There didn't seem to be any point in putting in a lift shaft if it wasn't going to be used after all."

We walk past numbered rooms, all of which seem to be locked, and reach another door. Angel opens it, and we follow him onto a ledge which overlooks a large, eerily lit cavern. We climb down some rough steps to the floor, and I take a good look around. The lighting seemed to come on as we arrived, but I can't see its source.

Angel doesn't stop once at the bottom of the stairs, but walks purposefully through the cavern towards an opening in the furthest wall. Once there, another cavern becomes illuminated, and once we're all through, the lighting behind us winks out.

Angel moves towards one wall of the cavern where the ceiling is lower than elsewhere, and where we're out of a direct line with the doorway through which we entered.

"Here ok?" he asks.

The question seems to be directed to Willow, and she answers that it's fine, then sets about arranging what she needs. Spike and I help, pulling the various things out of the bags we carried here, and placing them to her directions. Wes and Angel stand close together chatting, but I can tell from their tones that neither of them is entirely comfortable in the other's company.

When Willow's ready, we gather up our weapons, and stand together waiting for the portal to open. Willow looks determined as she sits there, her arms outstretched, her palms upward as she begins her work. Fred is standing to one side, watching, and not a little wary - perhaps not surprising considering what I know about her past.

It doesn't take too long - the portal appears in front of us, and with a shared glance, the four of us form into a line and move towards it, I go first, with Spike behind me, and Wes and Angel follow.

There's some initial disorientation as I step through, so I take a deep breath and make an effort to shake it off. When I look around, though, the first thing I notice is that I'm alone.

My first thought is that something went wrong - something about the portal means that we've been sent to different places. Well, as long as I've come to the right place, I can finish off the Senior Partners and then work out where the others are.

I'm in a room. It's bare, with apparently wooden flooring, but the walls are black. I approach the closest of them, and reach out a hand. It’s smooth, like plastic, and as I touch it, it's as though it changes, becoming transparent. On the other side of the wall is Spike, looking as bewildered as I feel.

"Any sign of the others?" I ask, wondering if he'll hear me.

"Thought I was alone till I saw you," he answers, but then I hear two other voices. I walk in the direction of one of them - another wall of my room. I touch it as I did before, and it melts into transparency to show Wesley.

"Angel?" I ask.

Wes shakes his head, but from behind me I hear Angel's voice, so I approach the opposite wall and touch it. Again, it shifts, clearing, and I see Angel too.

"So, what now?" Spike asks, and I turn to him.

"Welcome," a disembodied voice sounds. "We had hoped to avoid this confrontation, since we would have preferred to have you as an ally, Slayer. However, since you come here armed, and with others, you will meet your end. It seems a terrible waste, but it was your choice."

"And Angel," it continues. "Et tu, Brute? Isn't that the appropriate phrase from human literature and history? After everything we gave you, all the power we offered, still you betray us. Is this woman really so special? That you would give up everything for her even though she has shown herself faithless, choosing another instead of you?"

"This has nothing to do with Buffy. It's simply a question of doing what's right."

"You don't fool us, vampire. We understand your motivation, even if you delude yourself. Still, you can still change your mind, and in the instant of your changing your mind you will be transported to your office, with nothing changed. Perhaps we can even persuade the woman to change her mind? Or would it be enough simply to have her, even if her mind was broken?"

"It's an empty promise you're making. You've given me the chance of Buffy's shell, or at best, Buffy against her will. Yes, I love her. I think I always will, but I want her to want to be with me. If I can't have that, then it would be meaningless."

"So, you reject our offer. So be it."

I catch Angel's eye as the voice goes quiet, and I can see his love for me in his eyes. It makes me sad to know that he realises that what I felt when I was sixteen wasn't enough to withstand the process of growing up, but I send him a silent 'thank you' by way of a nod which he returns.

"And you, Watcher? You too? Did we not give you your heart's desire? Knowledge without bounds? Books you believed no longer in existence? Surely we do not deserve this from you?"

"Whatever you have given me," Wes responds clearly, "is nothing compared with what you have taken from me."

"And, pray, what have we taken from you? We can think of nothing"

"My integrity, my self respect, and most recently, my wife and my unborn child."

"No, no, Wesley. We haven't taken those first two. If you have lost them in any measure, it is entirely your own doing. And your wife? We had no hand in that. Certainly, we would have liked to have made her acquaintance in person, but we have never had that privilege.  However, if you would like to turn your back on this foolish undertaking, you too might be restored to your previous life. In fact, without Angel, we'll be needing someone else to take over. Doesn't that appeal at all? How often in these past years has the need to subjugate your own opinions to Angel's rankled with you? Imagine how much good you would be able to do without his dubious morality to steer you wrong? And you know, it's only a matter of time before we find your wife. And when we do, it would be a simple matter to restore her to you. Even for us to remove the memories of this time from her so that she can bear your child without any shadows looming over her."

"If I take your offer, I don't deserve her," he answers.

"So be it," the voice replies.

"And you, William the Bloody? Is this what you have become? Truly, you were more terrifying as a poet than you are now. After everything you've done, everything you've experienced, your only ambition is to be the Slayer's lap dog. It's pitiful, really. Yet you too, could achieve so much with our help. Imagine what you could achieve with Wolfram and Hart. It would be the chance to be somebody of your own - not just the childe of the mad vampire, or the butt of the Slayer's jokes. Does that not tempt you at all?"

"What?" Spike answers, his voice incredulous. "That the best you can offer me? The chance to follow in Angel's shoes again? Do you have any idea how old that is?"

"Yet your mind is full of countless times when you were made to feel worthless. Surely one such as you would yearn to have power? To be able to grind those who belittled you under your heel?"

"I'm not saying there aren’t those I'd like to cock a snook at, but, compared to what I've got now? Really not worth it."

He catches my eye as he says that, and I smile back at him, hoping that the smile confirms that he's got me, because I know that's what he means.

"Very well, if you're all determined to be destroyed, I suppose we'd better get on with it."

"What d'you say we change the rules here, boys?" Spike says, starting to kick the wall between our two rooms in an attempt to break the barrier. "They want us separate? I'd prefer we're all together."

Angel and Wes respond, using fists and knives to try to break down the walls, and I join the effort. However, after several minutes and no discernible damage, we come to the conclusion that that's not going to work.

"I've heard a lot about the Wolf, the Ram and the Hart. But I'd never figured they'd be cowards," I shout in an attempt to gain their attention.

There's no immediate response, but a short while later, I start to feel something, whispering at my mind. I can't picture anything, it's not that clear, but it's a feeling that makes me shiver despite feeling anything but cold. A glance at Spike suggests he's getting the same as me, but he's actually sweating.

"What is it?" I ask him.

"They're playing with our minds. Trying their tricks." Then in a louder voice he continues. "They're afraid to face us, Pet. Using their mind tricks, trying to send us mad. It's not going to work."

The sensation goes then, but I know they're not finished yet. I glance at Wes and he looks at me encouragingly. Angel's just looking angry.

Something changes then. The wall between Angel and me seems to flash or something, but when I look again, nothing's changed. Except that suddenly, there's a crossbow bolt coming from nowhere straight to Angel's heart. He explodes into a cloud of dust which has me scurrying to the wall that separates us.

"One down," the disembodied voice says, and I turn away, checking that Spike's ok. It looks like he saw what I did, and the look of shock is clear on his face. "Anyone ready to change sides?"

"Still scared to show yourselves," Spike says. "I expected better."

"Watch and learn," the voice replies, and there's a similar flash from the wall that separates me from Wesley, and I turn in time to see Lilah in the room with him. I gasp, horrified at the implications. If Lilah's been here all this time, then Gina's lost. Wesley makes the same connection, and approaches her with something like madness in his eyes. He hits her, and she laughs before drawing a knife from somewhere, and brandishing it towards him. Maddened by grief, he runs at her anyway, and then seems shocked as the knife is thrust into him, and twisted. He falls to the ground his face contorted with pain, and the blood pools around him.

"Wes," I call, rushing towards him, but I know there's nothing I can do. He's dying, losing blood so fast he can't last for long.

"Wes, I'll get them. I promise, I'll destroy them. For you and Gina, and Angel."

There are tears forming in my eyes, but I blink them away. I don't have time to think about Angel or Wes, not right now. When I turn around again, the wall separating me from Angel has gone dark again, as if to shroud his ashes in dignity or something, but I can't think about that now. I return to the wall through which Spike is looking as shocked as I feel.

"Spike," I say. "How?"

"I don't know. I … There's something, but … Where did Wes' sword go?"

As we're talking, the wall between us shimmers, and then there's something behind Spike. It's a demon, huge, scaly, its mouth big enough to swallow a man whole, and it's approaching Spike with awful intent. And then I spot that Spike's sword has gone too. Disappeared, just like Wes'. I start to kick at the wall between us, desperately trying to get through to help him, but the wall just won't give. Not at all.

"Spike!" I scream, but he's not paying any attention, desperately trying to move away from the demon, but there's nowhere to run to. He's fast, but speed doesn't count for anything when there's nowhere to go, and I know it's only a matter of time before the end.

I turn from the scene, and yell at our unseen captors instead.

"What do you want? Come here, let me see you, you cowards."

And then, he's there. He looks like a deer, a hart, I assume, but the face isn't the sort of thing you usually see on such an animal. There's nothing benign or harmless about that face. It's evil, so evil that the expression alone is almost more than I can bear to look at.

And then it dawns on me. There's something different now, because I've still got my sword. I run a hand over my clothing, and my other weapons are still where I left them. So why, if the others had their weapons taken from them, have I been left with mine?

"Well, you wanted to see us. I doubt you'll get the chance to see the others since I fully intend to kill you, but I can't offer you anything better."

"So, why did you draw the short straw? Why you and not one of the others? Why not all three?"

"Why send three to do what one can do alone?"

I hear a scream then, bloodcurdling, and I glance at the wall that had separated me from Spike, but it's black. I can only assume that Spike has also been killed, and I'm filled with a rage like I've never known before. Part of me wants to fall to my knees and scream out my pain, but the rest of me knows I'll have the rest of my life to mourn him. Now it's time for revenge.

I rush at the creature in front of me, my sword in my hand, determined not just to kill him, but to destroy him totally. I swing the sword, bringing it down towards his neck, but he's moved, rearing on hind legs, and changing, melting into a man who looks achingly familiar.

"Would it be easier if I looked like this?" he asks. And Wes' face is there in front of me, looking at me, and I stop, frozen in place. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I hear Spike's voice again, telling me that they're playing with my mind, and I shake my head.

"I'd rather you showed me your own face, so I can remember the face of evil, but it really doesn't make any difference to me."

I swing my sword again, but again the body in front of me changes, becoming my mother. This time I don't hesitate, but carry on with my attack, only to have the creature, with agility completely beyond any human, jump out of the way, pulling out a sword of its own.

"Ah, even this image won't make you pause," my mother's voice says. "Maybe this one."

And it shimmers and becomes Spike. I fist away the tears that are forming in my eyes, fury building even higher in me.

"Look like yourself. You don't deserve to wear their faces. You don't have that right."

I lunge again, determined to be rid of the travesty in front of me, but it changes again, turning into a man of six feet with black hair and dark eyes - a typical Carnolan, except for the expression on his face which is like that of the hart I first saw - filled with hatred.

I heave a sigh of relief. Killing that - no problem at all. And so we start to fight - really fight. And for the first time, I see a lack of confidence on his face. He's still sneering, and I know it's not going to be easy, but, for the first time I realise that it's just another demon. I've done this so many times before, fighting, desperate to stay alive.

"I've got to wonder why you're still trying," he says, picking himself up off the floor after a particularly athletic tumble. "I mean, all your friends are dead. Angel, staked. Poor Wesley, killed by the woman he failed to save, and Spike, destroyed by a hunger greater even than his. And when you're gone, what's left to protect the others? It would have been so much easier if you'd just done as we asked and destroyed the rest of Carnolan. Not so difficult, with the resources of all those Slayers you have these days. But now, you're going to die, and then so will they. All of them. The shedding of your blood in this place will ensure enough power for us to be able to destroy all of them, all the Carnolan, and every Slayer who exists anywhere. And with all of them gone, there will be no more."

Listening to him, but at the same time planning my next move, I wonder about what he's saying. Does he really think I'll just give up because they've destroyed Angel, Wes and Spike? Do they think I'm just going to lie down and die?

I lunge again, taking him by surprise, and this time, I manage to draw blood.

"Maybe it's your blood that's going to be shed. Ever think of that? If you think I've got nothing to live for, then you're wrong. Because, right now, the only thing I have left is wanting to destroy you."

Chapter 38 - Nothing Left to Fight For

It's almost the last thing I expect. The demon in front of me laughs. He laughs, chillingly, almost hysterically, but I can't see what could possibly be the cause.

"Silly, silly little girl. You're not going to destroy me. You couldn't possibly. You can fight, maybe even hurt me, I grant you that. But I can heal myself instantly."

As if to prove the point, the gash I managed to make down his arm heals along its length, almost like an invisible zipper is pulled.

"See? It's nothing. You're nothing. Once, you were the Chosen One. But not for long. Within a few months you were just one of two, and now? You're one of thousands. There's nothing special about you, nothing unique, so how could you possibly be a threat to me?"

"Don't really care about the how," I counter. "All this talking is just giving me another reason to kill you, because I suspect it'll be the only way I can shut you up!"

With that I lunge again, but now, he seems to be living up to his name. He moves impossibly fast, and every time I launch an attack, it's late. He doesn't even appear to be trying to fight back; maybe if he did, I'd get a better handle on actually hitting him.

"I thought this was a fight, you know, to the death? Because so far, you haven't made any attempt to kill me."

"I hardly have to," he sneers. "You're not presenting any threat to me, so why should I bother?"

"Maybe because you'll get me out of your hair? How's that? Maybe I can be even more irritating than you can with the non-stop talking. It's funny," I say, making another lunge in his direction. "With everything you've got, you've got nothing."

"I'd hardly call being one of the three most powerful beings on the planet nothing," he retorts, and I feint to the left before trying another attack.

"I'd call it nothing. What have you got that matters? I've met a few Carnolans. Seems to me, they're not so much different from humans. They need others; they fall in love. It doesn’t matter how much you've got if you don't have someone to share it with. I learned that the hard way. I thought I was so much better than Spike. I threw his love away, told him it was nothing, but when he was gone, I was lost. I managed to get the things I thought I wanted - normality, not having to save the world, no responsibilities beyond the normal ones, and my life was empty. But I've got something you'll never have."

"My dear girl, you talk a good talk, you really do. The fact remains that you have nothing left to fight for. You're angry, I can see that. But the longer I keep you at bay, the less the anger will be important. Because this love that you're extolling the virtues of makes you weak. When your brain finally comes to terms with the fact that your partner and friends are gone, you'll crumple, and I'll cut you down so easily it'll be laughable. I'll extinguish your life because I've already extinguished your spirit. And then, I’ll let you bleed to death slowly, the power of your blood my ticket to supremacy within the three that are Wolfram and Hart."

Throughout, I keep trying to find a way in, a way to get through his defences, but he's tough. Or, more to the point, he's fast. And then it hits me. I can't get ahead of him because I'm relying on the bits of me that make me human. I'm relying on sight and hearing. What I need to do is reach down deep inside me to find the extra that comes with being a Slayer. I remember Giles trying to teach me that, way back, but I didn't completely understand. I got bits of it, but I never got completely there. I know it's possible, I just have to reach deep enough. I pull back, breathing deeply and concentrating on feeling it, on harnessing my instincts.

But the harder I try, the more elusive it feels. I feel this fog descending on me, making everything harder, and concentration all but impossible.

"It's coming, isn't it? The grief, the mind-numbing grief that'll sap you of the will to do anything other than curl in on yourself until you're so insignificant it'll be like tramping on a bug when I kill you. I'm going to relish that moment, keep the details in my mind and force those same details into the minds of anyone who cares for you. They'll see you, finally humbled and destroyed, and I will triumph."

He's talking and I can hear the words. But, I’m not conscious of getting any meaning from those words. I’m struggling to reach into myself and find what I need, but it’s getting harder with every passing second. I mentally shake myself, giving up for now on trying to find something extra and launch another attack. This time, my attempt is laughable – so far off my aim I can hardly believe it. I remember Spike's lessons on how to kill a Slayer. And I finally see that he was right. It's not down to someone having a good day so much as the Slayer having a bad one. And today's got to count among the worst I've ever known. My Slayer instinct has deserted me; there's nothing left. He's watching me and I feel he's right. I feel so alone and it scares me, terrifies me as nothing ever has.

Back at the start, when that prophecy said that the Master would kill me, I was angry. Because, more than anything then, I wanted to live. I wanted it with everything I was, every fibre of my being. Now? He's right. There's nothing left, nothing to fight for. Death is starting to seem like a welcome alternative. Heaven. Memories of my time in heaven are shining in my mind like beacons trying to bring me home. If only I could be sure Spike would be there too, then I’d be gone.

And then I see him. In my mind, Spike's holding out his arms to me, welcoming me into heaven and I feel the tension leaving me, and the tears I had been holding back start to flow full and strong. He's right. This demon, this evil thing, is right. My time here is over. It's time to go back to heaven. Time to leave this world that'll be empty without Spike.

It's too much effort to stay upright. My knees buckle under me, and I crumple, jarring my knees on the floor as I land. I don't feel any pain, at least, not the physical pain. I see again the horror that was Angel turning to dust with a crossbow bolt through his heart. I see Wesley, bleeding to death, knowing that Gina was dead or worse. And I see Spike, in my mind's eye, being devoured, hear his scream again. There's nothing I can do. It's all perfectly clear now. There's nothing I can do.

I don't know how long I'm there, cowering on the floor, lost in my own misery, but my next external awareness is of the Hart standing over me, his sword in his hand.

"I could make this easy," he says, as if considering the possibilities. "But then again, the more Slayer blood is spilled, the more powerful I become. So, maybe we should make it a little slower."

I hear the words, but they don't make sense. I feel the pain of a slash across my wrist, and see the blood flowing from the wound. I’m mesmerised by it, watching it pool on the floor below me just like it did with Wesley. This is it, I’m checking out, leaving this life, drop by drop. And for once I’m sorry I'm a Slayer, with the strength and the enhanced healing because it’ll take a lot of lost blood to kill me, so it’s not going to be quick. I wish it could be.

They say your life flashes before you when you're dying, don't they? Well, I don't see my life, or at least, not all of it. Then again, maybe I see the important bits. I see Spike at his most glorious, saving the world, and feel again the truth of the words I tell him before I abandon him to his end.

And I see him returned to me, feel the joy of having him back, and remember the happiness of the short time we had together. And then we're back at today. Everything that happened from the time we walked through the portal progresses slowly through my head, every word, every detail.

"No sword," I mutter, getting to the point where Angel turned to dust. He had no sword. Neither did Wesley or Spike.

I can still feel my own sword in my hand, hard and real, and my eyes are drawn to the beauty of the workmanship. It's there. It's in my hand. This, with the Hart, is different to what happened to the others. I could defend myself. They couldn't. Why? Why?

"They're playing with your mind."

I hear Spike's voice replaying in my head. They're playing with my mind.

I know I'm weakening. I must've lost a lot of blood by now. There's something there, something important. I just need to find it. I need to find the strength to think, to not give up. Spike's voice, in my head, telling me to think.

"You're playing with my mind," I say, my voice clearer than I expect.

The Hart is standing over me, shaking his head.

"Naturally," he replies. "You resisted at first, but inevitably, you succumbed. It doesn't matter. You are history."

I close my eyes, and I hear him laugh again, convinced of his victory. And then I feel it, deep down, the Slayer instinct. If only I had the strength to tap it, to feel it throughout my being.

"They're playing with your mind." Spike's voice again. And then it makes sense. The reason there's only one of them here. There are another two, so why have I only seen the Hart? Why am I the only one to keep a weapon?

It wasn't real.

That means that they're not gone. Spike's not gone. Wes, Angel, …

And with that knowledge, I feel the strength returning to me. No, not physical strength, because that's ebbed away with my blood. No, it's something else, but it's real, and I think I can use it instead of purely physical strength.

Without opening my eyes, I pull myself to my feet. I sense that the Hart is surprised, but I also know that he's greedy enough to want my heart to keep beating a little longer, continuing to pump my blood over the floor. I reach deep into the well of Slayer within me, feeling for it, gathering it into a ball of energy within me, willing it to build until it's become an irresistible force.

"Slayer, you're too late," the Hart's voice hardly impinges on my consciousness. "You may be standing, but you're not really alive."

Almost unable to marshal the energy I feel inside, I launch it into an attack, my arm moving faster than it's ever moved before, slicing the Hart through the neck, all the way, and I hear his head landing on the floor with a thud, immediately followed by the clatter of my sword which has slipped from my hand.

The energy dissipated, I crumple again. Lying there, my only view is that of a severed head, the expression on his face one of total surprise.

It's a pity it all seems a bit late for me. And then, I close my eyes because I really don't want to look at that face. I want to see Spike, and as soon as my eyes are closed, he's there, smiling that gentle smile he saves just for me. It's a smile that radiates such love that it warms me all over. And then, he starts to fade, as if someone is turning down the light, it's getting darker, and darker.

"Stay with me, Spike," I manage to say, and the last thing I see is his nod of agreement before the blackness becomes total.

Chapter 39 – A Visit from an Old Friend

The darkness fades as soon as it falls. I open my eyes warily, and I’m almost blinded by sunlight. Heaven?

I open my eyes further, looking around. Sand. Blue sky. Blazing sun. Mountains in the distance. The desert? My memories of heaven might be a bit vague, but I’m sure a desert didn’t figure anywhere in it. Then, again, neither did the discomfort of sand in my hair and inside my shirt.

I sit up carefully, noting the slash on my wrist which seems to have stopped bleeding. So, apparently, I’m not dead. I’m also not in the Senior Partners' dimension, which leaves me without ideas.

She appears out of nowhere – the First Slayer – crouching over me, beckoning me to follow her. A dream then? I didn’t know you dreamt when you were dying.

I get up carefully, and follow her to a fire on the other side of an outcropping of rock. She motions to me to sit and I do. She sits opposite me, and directs me to stare into the flames.

“You are not finished yet.”

The words don’t seem to come from her, but I don’t see anyone else around. And then I do. Tara’s face appears in the flames.

"Tara? How? Why?"

"The powers allowed me to be your guide."

"My guide? To what?"

"To what you need to do. You can go back, Buffy. If you want to enough. The others – they need you. You understand now, they don’t. Do you have enough love in you to go back?”

I think about the people who’re depending on me. Never mind the countless strangers, there’s Wes and Gina, Willow, Dawn, Xander – wherever he is, and there’s Spike. For his sake alone I’ve got enough love if that’s all it takes.

“How? I've lost blood before - I know I'm in bad shape.”

“The ritual the Hart was going to use - it’s primed to use the power of your spilt blood. You can use it to keep yourself alive long enough to make a difference.”

“Tell me what to do.” It sounds like I’m still not going to make it, and I’m saddened by that fact, but if the others survive, if Wes and Gina survive to bring up their child, if Spike gets a chance to live a full, human life? Then I'll do whatever I can. Because that's who I am. I'm the Slayer, and it's my job to keep others safe, even if it means I don't make it.

“You need a circle that encompasses as much of your blood as you can manage, and you, of course. Make sure no other body is included, or the energy from your blood will be shared.”

Sharing my energy with the Hart? Not something I want.

“That’s it? I don’t have to say anything?”

Tara smiles that quirky, one-sided smile she had. “You can say something if you’d like, but it’s not necessary. I'll cover the words. I'm not so much with the physical these days, but words I can do.”

"Are you really her? Tara? Or just a projection the Powers thought would be acceptable to me?"

She shrugs. "I feel real, you know? I feel like me."

"And you're happy?"

"Yes. I can understand why going back was so terrible for you. I think, maybe, they let me do this to make up for my part in bringing you back."

"It's ok, Tara. Then? I wasn't so happy about things. Now, I'm glad I got the chance to live a bit longer. She still misses you,” I add. “We all do, but Willow? She misses you so much.”

“I know,” she replies, smiling gently. “Tell her, … tell her to live while she’s got the chance.”

Her face fades, and once that’s gone, the fire fades too. The air turns cool, and the sun seems to go out.

And then I know exactly where I am. I’m on the floor of the room where I fought the Hart. I lie there for a moment, marshalling my strength, no longer sure that I’m up to what I’ve got to do.

I manage to sit up, despite the waves of giddiness that threaten to overwhelm my effort. I notice that my wrist is still bleeding or bleeding again depending on how real my dream was. My shirt has been slit on the other sleeve and I have no memory of when it happened, but I take advantage of it, ripping it the rest of the way, and removing most of it. Then, I use it to bandage my wrist as tightly as I dare.

Once that’s done, the dizziness seems to have receded a bit, so I try to get to my feet. That idea seems doomed to failure, so I reconsider. I can shuffle on my knees well enough, and use my hands to keep my balance when it gets too much. Now, how to draw the circle? I look around, and spot a bulging pocket in the Hart's shirt. With a certain trepidation, I approach. If he was going to do this ritual, stands to reason he'd be prepared.

I prod the pocket, and it gives, grittily, so I put a hand in and remove a bag filled with sand. It looks like the stuff Willow uses for the same purpose, so I grab it, tearing open a corner with my teeth.

I take a good look around, noting where the Hart's body is, and trying to work out the best place to inscribe the circle. Of course, some of the blood is his too, and there's no way to tell it apart from mine, so I've got to assume it doesn't matter. I choose a path, and start to pour the sand, stopping every couple of feet to steady myself before continuing. My hand's shaking so badly, it seems impossible that I'll be able to manage anything approximating to a circle, but I know enough of what Willow's taught me over the years to know that the critical thing is that it's sealed. The more perfect the circle, the stronger the barrier, but it's the completeness that's the key.

Two feet to go, and the waves of blackness are worse than ever. I feel so cold, like I'm freezing to death, and my fingers don't want to do what's needed. I conjure up Spike's face in my mind, that grin he has, so full of life, and with a final effort, I close the circle.

I collapse again, spent by the effort, and the floor starts to tremble.

The trembling in the floor becomes a throbbing, and I feel the power coming back to me. I’m breathing heavily, just trying to keep up with what’s happening. I think I even lose consciousness a time or two, but when the throbbing stops, I find I can stand easily. Now, the only problem is how do I help the others?

I take a look around, intrigued to note that I seem to be glowing. I push that fact out of my mind for now, and take in my surroundings. I'm in a large room which is luxuriously decorated. I had no sensation of movement, so I'm not sure how it happened, but that really doesn't matter.

The room appears to be an office in a very rich and probably not terribly practical style. After a quick glance around, I move towards the door, opening it cautiously, but there's no one in sight, so I move out into the hallway.

It looks like part of a mansion. There are doors placed at regular intervals along the corridor, and I force myself to think about where the others might be. I can hear no sounds to imply that any of the rooms are occupied, so I try the door nearest me. I find another office in a rather different style, but still no clue about the whereabouts of the others. I continue along the corridor, but all I find are bedrooms and another office.

I reach a staircase then, and go downstairs quietly. Imagine the sort of staircase from which you can make a grand entrance. And then imagine it even more impressive. Well, that's what it's like. There are two identical flights of stairs coming from opposite ends of the hallway above to meet in a landing in the middle before branching off again. From my point of view, the openness this provides is a good thing, since I can see there's no one in sight.

There are more doors on the lower floor, and again, there’s no sound from any of them, so I open them. This time, I find some formal sitting rooms, libraries, dining rooms, and a ballroom. Still no one around, though, and I start to feel like I've found my way into a game of Clue.

I've pretty much exhausted the floor I'm on, but I find another staircase leading down. This is much less grand than the first, and, as a result, much more dangerous. I creep down carefully, all my senses extended. I feel a strange tickling sensation, not my demon sense, but something else that I don't remember feeling before. It’s sort of an emotional push, but I ignore it for now, concentrating on what I do understand, and get to the bottom of the stairs, to find more doors, but they're still of no use to me, as they seem to lead to just a kitchen, a laundry room and some storerooms.

I creep further, and come to another door at the end of the corridor. I open it without difficulty, and find myself faced with another stairway going down into darkness.

Again, I creep down, alert and watching, but I see no one. There are several more doors here, and I try the first of them, which opens easily.

Inside this small room, which looks remarkably like a dungeon with stone walls and a dank, musty smell, is Wes, chained to a wall and looking like he's been there for a while. I approach, and he watches me warily, as if he doesn't trust me.

"Wes? You ok? What've they done to you?"

"You're dead. You're not going to fool me, you know. Not sure what you want from me anyway."

"Wes, it's me, Buffy. I'm real, honestly. I'm going to break the chains, and you can tell me what's happened to you."

He laughs at that, an almost hysterical sound devoid of joy.

"You made a mistake, you know. Buffy doesn't glow."

I approach anyway, and manage to break the chains holding him.

"I only glow because of a spell I did. Don't worry about it." I cast an eye over his appearance. If he’s been here as long as his appearance suggests, there’s something wrong with the way I’ve perceived time.

"What happened? How are you? Can I do anything for you?" I ask, touching his cheek in an attempt to make him know I'm real.

He seems to have to think about that for a moment, but then nods. "I'm ok, I think. Are you really her? I saw Buffy die."

"They showed me you dying too, but you look real enough to me. They can put things into your mind, make you feel despair, and they showed us the things they thought would make us more susceptible."

"You mean, … Gina's ok? I saw Lilah, and she told me Gina was dead."

"I can't promise, Wes," I tell him, a hand on his shoulder. "But I don't believe she's come to any harm while we've been here. I don't think Lilah's really here either, since I saw her killing you."

He takes a deep breath at that, letting it out slowly.

"So what happened after you saw the show? Did they just put you down here?"

"Yes. Seems like a long time ago, but if they can affect my mind, then maybe it's not been that long. Just left me stewing down here, softening me up, I expect."

"Do you have any idea where the others are?"

"Spike and Angel? No, I thought they were gone too."

"You ok to come with me?"

He gets to his feet, and seems surprised at how ok he is.

"Yeah. It seems that physically, I'm fine."

I tell him about the rest of the house as we move out to the corridor again.

"So you were upstairs, but you found me down here?" he asks. "And you've only seen the Hart."

"That's right. I haven’t seen hair nor fleece of the other two. Or anyone else, for that matter."

The next door opens to show another dungeon, but this time there's no one there. What there is, though, is chilling. It's a short, leather jacket that I recognise as being the one Angel was wearing.

We turn to leave the room, and then hear something for the first time. It's the sound of a voice, and it's coming from a room at the far end of the corridor. We approach quickly, and then listen carefully. I recognise enough of what I hear to guess what's happening. It sounds like another Carnolan, although which is hard to tell, and he's getting ready to fight.

Motioning Wes to stay behind me, I lift one leg and kick the door down. The scene before me is almost exactly the one from my own fight with the Hart, although the Carnolan this time is clearly the Ram, and he's facing up to Angel.

"Angel!" I call. He looks beaten already. I try to approach, but find a barrier between him and me.

"Ah, I knew his impatience would get the better of the Hart in the end.” The words are forced into my mind, but despite his stated assurance, he seems surprised. ”Angel can't see you, Miss Summers. He won't be able to hear you either. You get to watch while I destroy him, but you don't get to interfere. Your companion is irrelevant."

I glance at Wes, but by the look on his face, he hasn't heard.

"Did you get that?" I ask.

When he looks blankly at me, I add, "Did you just hear the Ram in your mind?"

"I didn't hear anything," he confirms. "What did you hear?"

"Just that we're going to have to stay here and watch. He seemed surprised to see me, though."

"He looks like Clinton, doesn't he?"

"They all look alike, it's one of their traits."

"So how do you know it's the Ram? Did he tell you?"

Angel and the Ram are still circling one another, each looking for the ideal position to attack. I think about Wes' question.

"I'm not sure how I know, I just do. It's like I can see two different things when I look at him - a Carnolan with overtones of Ram. It's hard to explain."

"But how do you do that?”

“I don’t know.”

“Tell me about this spell you did – the one that’s making you glow.”

Eyes glued to the two who seem to have tested one another enough to get into the fight, I explain the ritual in as few words as I can.

“But there was Carnolan blood in the circle?”

“It looks just like mine, so it’s hard to tell.”

“I’m not getting anything that suggests ‘Ram’, but you are. It could be something to do with the blood, I suppose. Is that why I didn’t hear him too?”

“I think you not hearing him was intentional. You haven’t had any problem understanding Clinton, have you? I don’t know about the rest."

"That's true. So, he decided not to talk to me. That sort of makes sense given the history we know - this particular group of Carnolans consider humans to be beneath them. I assume that you, Spike and Angel merit something more."

"Could be. And I fought the Hart, and Angel's in there with the Ram. That implies that Spike's going to have to fight the Wolf."

"Could be he's already there," Wes suggests, so we both leave the room, and move to check the other rooms close by.

Wes shouts a couple of moments later, and sure enough, there's another identical room, and this time Spike's there with the Wolf. This pair aren't circling, but already fighting furiously. To my surprise, I can feel Spike's emotions quite clearly. He's hurting so badly I desperately want to comfort him. I try to draw back from the feeling because it's threatening to overwhelm me, and when I do, I realise that if I switch my attention away from Spike, I can feel Angel too. He's also in pain, but with him, it's a slow boil, almost just another pain to add to many others.

"I can feel them," I tell Wes. "I can feel that they're both hurting. They're so different, but the pain's real for both of them."

"I assume they still believe we're both dead."

"Yeah. If only we could take that away from them, it'd give them a chance to succeed."

I can't tear my eyes off Spike, he's trying so hard, putting everything he's got into the fight, but I can see the changes as they happen. His reaction time's gone way up, and his aim is off. It seems so like what I experienced, and I remember hearing Spike's voice in my head telling me it's not real. Without realising it, I'm screaming at him, yelling for all I'm worth that I'm alive and to ignore the other feelings that're being forced on him.

"Angel's weakening," Wes calls to me. I hadn’t even realised he’d gone, I was so involved in watching Spike. "We've got to do something."

"I know, Wes, but what? I just want to tell them we're here and watching them."

I scream the words again, but this time, I get a faint echo back. It's Spike, and the thought was my name, but said as a question.

I yell again, desperate to try to recreate the effect. This time, the response is clearer, and along with it is something else, something that's telling him to ignore my voice telling him that it's just a figment of his imagination. I try harder, this time just trying to project the thought.

"I'm getting through to him," I tell Wes. "I'm getting through to Spike. Can Angel hold on for a minute and I'll try to get to him too?"

"I don't know, Buffy. He's really slowed down in the last minute or so - it's as if everything's too much effort."

"Ok, I'll try to get to both of them," I offer.

And I do. I concentrate on the thought that Wes and I are alive and watching them, and I push it as hard as I can. Spike seems to be wavering, desperately wanting to believe me, and I can feel him trying to throw off the other influence.

"It's helping Spike, any sign of it helping Angel?" I ask.

"Not yet," Wes replies. "But if you don't get through to him fast, he's not going to make it. The Ram's got a stake, and he's already been too close to the mark a couple of times."

I redouble my efforts then. I can feel Spike's growing confidence, and I can see the effect that's having on the Wolf. His confidence is falling as Spike's increases, and the whole flow of the fight has reversed. I change tactics a bit then, concentrating on giving Angel the message.

It's so different trying to get through to him compared to Spike. It's like there's a closed door in his mind, and I feel like I'm battering at it to get in. I keep hearing a litany, words repeated again and again, telling him he doesn't deserve it, he doesn't deserve anything, he doesn't deserve happiness. It's almost heartbreaking to hear it, but I ignore that and just keep pushing.

The fight between Spike and the Wolf has changed completely now. Spike's injured, but his injuries are minor compared to those sported by the Wolf. He doesn't even seem to have enough energy left to heal himself, and he's so slow, I almost feel like Spike's playing with him. And then, he isn't. In a move that takes even me by surprise, Spike's sword slices through the Wolf's neck, and I hear the head hitting the floor, and then the whole room seems to wink out of existence, leaving behind a small storeroom.

Eager to see what's happening with Angel, I run to join Wes, while still keeping up my mental pushing at Angel's mind. It's not any easier than it was, and when I reach Wes, it's obvious that my efforts aren't doing any good.

“The Wolf’s gone,” I tell him, then turn my attention back to Angel.

I desperately want to know what's happened to Spike, but I know that Angel needs me too, so I stay, watching, and trying even harder to get through the walls he's built in his mind. I've no idea why I can do what I'm doing, but it's a fascinating thing that I wish I could understand more. Right now though, there's only time to concentrate on getting the fact that I'm alive into Angel's brain. Once that's there, maybe he can fight the other thoughts, but grief seems to open his mind to the predations of the Ram.

One obvious thing I see is that the Ram is also struggling. If I'm not getting through to Angel, then maybe I'm making things difficult for the Ram, so my attempt isn't wasted. With one last push at Angel, I change direction, searching for the Ram's mind instead. I find it fairly easily, at least, I find the outer, almost public parts easily. Trying to dig deeper proves difficult, but difficult's never deterred me before. I push, and gradually, I find a crack which I open further. I hadn't really thought in advance about what I was going to do if I got into his mind, but once I'm there, it's obvious. I just tell him that he's not going to win, and that his two friends are dead. I keep pushing it, and the fight between the Ram and Angel turns again, becoming more equal. The fact that they're both doing badly is beside the point.

Then, Angel lands a blow, seriously cutting the Ram's throat with his sword, but not severing his head. Blood's pouring from the wound, but then everything changes. The room flickers, and becomes another storeroom like Spike’s did once he'd killed the Wolf. Except, this time, the Ram isn't dead, and he lunges again at Angel who seems confused by the changes. There’s a stake in the Ram’s hand, and I don’t see how it can miss. Instinctively, I jump towards them, forgetting about the barrier, but it's gone, so I'm close to Angel, actually level with the Ram, and my eyes are on that stake, determined to make sure it doesn't hit its target.

I realise that I'm going to be too late, but I continue my dive towards it, desperate to try. To my amazement, the stake doesn’t make contact with Angel's heart. When I glance over my shoulder to work out why, I see the headless body of the Ram dropping to the floor and Wes standing there with the sword I hadn't even realised I'd dropped in his hand.

Chapter 40 – Cheating Again

I hit the floor hard. I’ve no idea how I managed to fall, so it comes as a surprise, and then I understand. I’m on a stone floor in the cavern where Willow opened the portal. I feel a sharp pain from my wrist, and I glance toward it. It doesn’t seem to be bleeding noticeably, but I do spot that I’m no longer glowing.

The floor starts to shudder, and I try to prop myself up so I can see if everyone else is ok. I have to fight against the blackness that attempt causes, and I hear panicked voices all around me. Spike’s, then Angel’s voice, and I see the two of them hovering over me. And then, the effort to keep the blackness at bay is just too much.

“I’m sorry,” I mumble, wishing I could say it more clearly, hoping Spike understands the multitude of things I’m sorry for, and then the darkness is complete.

Funny. I didn’t expect to feel like this. I hurt. Not agonising pain, just a general dull ache, but it’s all over, in every muscle, every bone. I suppose it’s too much to expect to go to heaven again, I just sort of assumed it.

There’re voices again, but they’re different from the ones I heard last. Then, the voices were strident, loud, worried. Now, they’re hushed, as if trying not to waken someone. Probably me. Well, I’m awake, so I try to pry my eyes open.

Rationally, I know the light is dim, but it still hurts my eyes, so I peer from between almost closed lids, looking for the source of the voices. And, of course, Spike’s there. He’s watching me, his face a study in concentration.

“Buffy? Love?”

I decide that talking would be too difficult, but I try to bend my mouth into a smile. I think it must have succeeded, because Spike’s expression changes, becoming a grin, and I’m enfolded in a hug that makes breathing difficult. He seems to realise, because it’s short, and he moves away again, still smiling, talking to someone else. I try to look in that direction, and I spot who else is there. Of course, she’s hanging over me too now. Dawn. She leans down and kisses my brow the way Mom used to do when we were ill.

“You ok to stay a minute, Bit?” I hear Spike’s voice. “It’s just a certain witch’ll have me turned into something to be trodden underfoot if I don’t call her. And I’d better let a doctor know too.”

“Sure, Spike,” she answers.

I decide to make an effort to speak.

“Don’t be long.”

He leans back over me, and plants a kiss softly on my lips.

“Never going to be away from you for long.”

Then he turns and walks out of the room.

“Where?” I ask Dawn.

“Hospital. Hospital full of very good looking, tall, dark and demony types.”

“Carnolan?”

“Yeah. Turns out Willow had an agreement with Clinton. If anyone needed it, she just had to think ‘Ambulance’ and there’d be one on its way. I think they actually had it waiting just outside. Angel knew you were short of blood, you know, vampire senses. Willow passed on that information, and they were ready to transfuse you as soon as you were out of the building. And even that probably wouldn’t have been enough, but they managed to use Willow as a conduit of some kind, putting you in a sort of stasis field. All sounds a bit Star-Trek-y to me, but that’s what they said. Without it you wouldn’t have made it long enough for a transfusion.”

There’re tears forming in her eyes as she says that last bit.

“How long?”

“Since the building collapsed? Ten days or so.”

“Building collapsed?”

“Yeah, the Wolfram and Hart building. They managed to clear it, though. Sounds like the whole building started to shake while you were still off fighting, so there was time. You and the others in the basement were the last ones out, and you wouldn’t have made it without Willow.”

“Everyone else ok?”

“Yeah. You came off worst.”

“Gina?” I’m almost afraid to ask, but I’ve got to know.

Spike comes back in time to hear my question. There’s a doctor with him. I recognise him as the one who treated Spike, and I try to smile my thanks at him. “She’s fine too. Called Wes not long after we got to the hospital. Seems she was freed as soon as they knew the Senior Partners were gone.”

“If you can give me a few minutes?” the doctor says as he looks expectantly at the others.

With another kiss to my brow, Spike leaves with Dawn in tow, and the doctor does what doctors do. He checks me over, and asks me the inane questions that’re supposed to show my brain is functioning normally.

“You seem remarkably recovered,” he concludes. “To be honest, I thought this was one battle the Slayer was going to lose.”

“Thanks,” I tell him. “From what I heard, I would’ve lost if it hadn’t been for everyone else.”

“Well, I did say we’d help if we could, I just didn’t think it’d be this soon. Not that we did very much this time. You were transfused, of course, and you needed CPR a time or two. Once you were breathing on your own, the only treatment was time and whatever your friend Miss Rosenberg’s been doing. I still prescribe rest, though, young lady. Make sure you take this opportunity to rest.”

“When can I go home?”

“Home? If I had my way, not for another week at least, but I don’t expect you to follow my recommendation. Stay tonight, and we’ll see how things look in the morning, how’s that?”

“Ok,” I agree, because right now, the prospect of getting out of bed is one I don’t even want to think about.

He nods at me, then goes towards the door. No sooner has he opened it than Spike’s in again, followed by Dawn. Spike sits down beside my bed and takes my hand in his.

“Expect they’ll all be here soon,” he comments.

“I’m going to get something to eat. Want anything?”

The question’s directed at Spike, but I don’t think he even hears Dawn. She just smiles at me and leaves us alone.

“Thought I’d lost you,” he murmurs, kissing me again.

“Not going to happen,” I reassure him even though I thought it had. Talking’s getting easier, almost as if I’m getting back into practice. “Hear we brought another building down.”

He laughs out loud at that. “Enjoyed it more the first time.”

“Is everyone ok? Really ok?”

“Want a run down, do you? Well, Willow did some amazing mojo that kept the Wolfram and Hart building from falling on our heads. That was after she gave the Carnolans Angel’s news that you’d been bled dry, and after she channelled some spell to stop you dying in the meantime. She was pretty exhausted when we got out, even spent a couple of days in here with Clinton hovering at her bedside. Fred just had some scratches, Wes much the same, and once Gina was safe, I don’t think he even knew that much. I was a bit sore, but I heal pretty fast. Angel … He’s physically fine, all healed. Not sure about him otherwise. If he was broody before, he’s gone into overdrive now – can’t get a bloody word out of him.”

“Where is he?”

“Holed up in some basement apartment. Right dive it is too. Part of his atonement, I think. Fred’s been phoning him about your condition, but he’s kept away.”

“Any repercussions?”

“You mean minions wanting to take over? Not so’s you’d notice. Haven’t been paying too much attention, though, what with being scared to death you wouldn’t wake up.”

“Kind of surprising, that.”

“What? Waking up?”

“Yeah. Tara sort of implied the spell would only work to save the rest of you.”

“Tara? Buffy, you feeling ok?”

“Apart from the all over ache, I’m fine. I was dying, Spike. I’ve done it twice, I know what it feels like. But the First Slayer came, took me to talk to Tara. She told me what to do to get the benefit of my blood. Said she would say what needed to be said, I just had to inscribe the circle.”

He seems to have to think about that, but he doesn’t say anything.

“You and Dawn ok?” I ask.

“Yeah. Was a bit difficult at first, but our differences didn’t seem too important compared with wanting you to wake up. And we’ve had plenty of time to chat. I think we’re getting more comfortable with each other again.”

“I’m glad.”

I feel my eyes closing. I’m so tired, and sleep seems like the only option, but I want to know Spike’s there with me.

“If I shuffle over a bit, can you lie down beside me?”

“Don’t want to hurt you, Pet.”

“You won’t. I’m sleepy, and I want you to hold me while I sleep.”

“Ok," he agrees. "But you’re not shuffling anywhere.”

He moves the sheet that’s covering me, and gently lifts me over a few inches before kicking off his boots and balancing himself on his side at the edge of the bed. He strokes my hair gently, and the feel of his fingers is all I need to fall asleep.

I don’t know how long I slept, but Spike’s moved. He’s sitting next to me, his head on the bed, and it looks like he’s asleep.

“He couldn’t sleep perched up there with you, kept almost falling off,” Wes explains from his position near the door. “It took Gina a while to persuade him to move. Don’t think he’s slept more than a few minutes at a time since it happened.”

“Gina? She’s here?”

“Yeah. She needed to visit the ladies room. I think junior’s sitting on her bladder again. Willow went with her. Don’t know what it is about women, but they never want to go alone.”

He’s been approaching as he spoke, and he reaches the bed and leans over to hug me from the side opposite the one Spike’s occupying.

“You had us all worried.”

“So I hear. Of course, I didn’t know anything about it, so you can’t blame me.”

“Well, actually, I blame myself. I know you said you’d used that ritual, but I didn’t know how far gone you were. If I had …”

“You wouldn’t have done anything differently, because there wasn’t anything different you could have done. In fact, if you hadn’t finished off the Ram, we might not have made it out of there at all. If he’d finished Angel and gone for me, I don’t know I would’ve had the physical strength to take him.”

Gina and Willow arrive then, chatting as they enter, only to have Wes remind them sternly about the sleeping Spike. They both look suitably contrite and move to beside Wes where they supplant him so they can both hug me. Gina’s bump seems a lot bigger than it was, and I comment on it.

“I blame days of inactivity and too much to eat,” she says, shrugging. “But the doctor says it’s normal, so I’m not going to worry any more.”

“Was it awful?” I ask, guilt welling up.

“I never felt threatened, if that’s what you mean. I was comfortable, and there was a doctor with me the whole time so I was looked after. I was scared for the rest of you, though. And angry that I couldn’t help.”

“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “It’s my fault you were involved.”

“No, actually, it’s not. I knew what Wes did when I married him. I’m not happy about the fact that he’s in a risky occupation, and if I could I’d persuade him to take up teaching or being a librarian or something, but if he did, he wouldn’t be the man I love. He knows someone’s got to do what he does, and he’s got the skills that make him an ideal candidate.”

“Given the experiences of teachers and librarians where we went to school, I’d say they’re over-rated as safe professions anyway,” Willow interposes.

“True,” Gina admits.

I feel Spike stirring on my other side, so I turn my attention to him.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, rubbing his eyes. “Almost fell asleep there.”

I smile at him. “From what I heard you need some sleep. Why don’t you go home? I’ll be fine here tonight, and the doctor said I can go home in the morning.”

He shakes his head. “Not going to happen, Pet. I’ll just stay here until I can take you home. You sure about tomorrow, though?”

“The doctor says I just need rest. I can get that at home, can’t I?”

“I suppose,” he admits.

“Well, if you’re getting home tomorrow, then I’m off to get everything ready,” Willow announces. “Lucy went home, but given the Carnolan grapevine, she’s bound to know you’re awake. Dawn went back to the apartment while you were asleep – she was exhausted. I’ll go to the market, make sure you’ve got enough of everything and get the place tidied up. Neither of us has been spending much time there. Clinton’s been around a lot too.”

“But that’s so he can see you,” Gina adds, a grin on her face.

“Maybe,” Willow agrees, smiling shyly.

“You’re interested?”

“I really like him, but I’m going to have to talk to Kennedy. I owe her that much at least. I’ll be going back to Cleveland for a bit, see how things seem. Clinton’s sort of needed around here, but apart from Kennedy, there’s not much that’s holding me in Cleveland.”

“It’ll be good to have you around,” I tell her. “But you’ve got to move because it’s the right thing for you.”

“I know,” she says. “I’m not going to jump into anything, you know. “

“Tara wouldn’t mind, you know that?”

“Tara? I never felt she’d mind about Kennedy somehow. A man, though? That just seems more betray-ey, you know?”

“She told me what to do. When I was there, in the other dimension. That ritual I did? She told me what to do. She said the Powers gave her the chance because of her part in bringing me back last time. She knows you miss her, but she told me to tell you to live while you’ve got the chance. She’s in a good place, and she’s waiting for you there, but I don’t think she’ll mind what else you do as long as she knows you’re happy.”

Willow’s eyes fill as I speak, but she’s happy-teary I think. She sniffs, nods and runs.

“Tara said that?” Spike asks. “Sounds like her.”

I yawn then, and Wes looks at Gina who nods back.

“Look, we’re going to go and let you sleep,” Gina announces.

“I’ll be back in the morning to take you home,” Wes offers. “Just call when you’re ready.”

“Thanks, Wes,” I say, as he leans down to kiss my cheek. “You look after Gina now. I think she deserves some spoiling.”

“He’s already doing that,” Gina comments, hugging me. “You get the rest you need, and I’ll see you soon.”

Once they’ve gone, I take another look at Spike. He certainly looks as though he needs to sleep, and I wipe a stray strand of hair off his face.

“I think I’m going to sleep again. You stay there if you’re more comfortable.”

“Ok, Pet. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Always, I hope,” I tell him.

“Always, Pet.”

Chapter 41 – Epilogue

She’s beautiful. I’m always amazed at how beautiful she is, but I can never understand why I’d be surprised. I mean, neither of her parents are exactly slouches in the looks department. She’s six months old, and she’s sitting in her chair watching my every move with her huge, liquid, brown eyes. Not that I’m doing that much, just warming her lunch and listening to the radio. Emily Maria, named after her two grandmothers, seems to find me watching her amusing. No, I realise, it’s not me she’s laughing at, it’s Spike. He’s playing peek-a-boo round the door with her, and I hadn’t even heard him coming in.

“How’s she doing?” he asks once he knows I know he’s there.

“As you can see, she’s fine.”

“Seems funny having a baby around.”

“Well, yeah, I suppose. I did think for a while that she’d be in high school before Wes and Gina finally agreed to go off for a weekend and leave her with us.”

“Understandable, isn’t it? Must be hard leaving her behind, even to celebrate your anniversary.”

“I suppose,” I agree. “So, what’s up that Fred had to call you before lunchtime?”

“You know Fred. When she’s working on something, she doesn’t know if it’s day or night. Turns out, she thinks she’s got something that’ll work against that Dranlak demon that’s been causing problems up in Bakersfield.”

“Oh good.” I say the words, then realise it’s not so good.

“You’re not thinking about going after it on your own, are you?”

“Did consider it,” he admits. “For about ten seconds, until I realised that if it didn’t get me you would.”

“Good,” I repeat, trying to look at him sternly, but he’s smiling and I can’t keep it up.

“We can go tomorrow, straight after Wes and Gina’ve collected Emily.”

I feel the telltale tingle run up my spine at the prospect of a good fight. “You can tell me all about what Fred’s got planned later when Emily’s asleep.”

I suppose the life we have wouldn’t suit everyone. There was a time I wasn’t sure it would suit me, but then I’m sometimes wrong. I’m back counselling, but only part time. I work afternoons at that, and Sarah Carlisle, who took over from me while I sorted out the Senior Partners, decided to stay on after I got back. I think we actually complement each other well. I specialise in the demon-induced trauma, and while she’ll cover that, she prefers the more ‘mundane’ stuff. Evenings, I join Spike, and sometimes Wes. Wes’ business became a joint venture between him and Spike. Wes runs the business and research side of things, but Spike’s been surprisingly into the research too once he got over trying to play the Big Bad. The business is doing well so far, and it gives me the chance to finally do what Anya suggested years ago, and make some money out of helping people. Of course, we don’t insist on cash up front or anything like that, and sometimes, for individuals, we don’t charge at all. There’re enough businesses around that are keen to get rid of vampires or whatever, and they normally pay up gratefully.

So, counselling in the afternoons and Slaying at night. What about mornings?

Well, mornings are ours. Spike’s and mine. That’s why it’s so surprising that Fred’d call. The only reason I’ve been up for hours already is Emily who, thanks to Gina, keeps more normal hours than we usually do.

Fred and Gunn went into business together too. It turns out, when Wolfram and Hart finally collapsed, that she was still able to access her substantial research budget. She’s got some ideas that’re going to make big money in a few years, and in the meantime, she does jobs for us at less than her usual rates. Gunn looks after the business side of things, drumming up customers and so on and leaving Fred to do what she does best.

Willow’s in LA now, and taking the first tentative steps with Clinton. It took her a while to make the final break with Kennedy, but they seem to have parted, well, not exactly friends, but reasonably amicably.

The only problem is Angel. He went into a major decline after we got out of the basement. From what I heard, he was instrumental in saving my life, but he doesn’t see it that way. On top of all the guilt he was carrying anyway, he added a truckload about the way he let himself be led along by Wolfram and Hart, and he feels he let the rest of us down by not killing the Ram. Add to that the fact that the reward he was working towards – becoming human – seems to have been taken by Spike, and he’s been pretty lost. Oddly, the only person he’d let near him for three months was Spike, and he used to say that the only reason Angel let him near was that he saw it as part of his punishment.

Then, out of the blue, came the news that Angel was willing to see Sarah professionally. The rest of us were relieved, and although Sarah wasn’t too comfortable at first, she seems to be warming to him. However it’s going, she’s managed to get him to occasionally get out of the tomb of an apartment he’s living in, and he’s been taking cases from Wes when Spike’s needed elsewhere. It’s early days, but he seems to be getting back on track.

Spike and me? We’re doing fine. I’m not saying it’s been moonlight and roses, ‘cos it hasn’t. We’re still two people who both expect to get our own way, but we’re learning how to give and take in a way I once would’ve thought impossible. As far as we can tell, I’m in the clear as far as that agreement I had with the Senior Partners, but just because there’s been no sign of anything yet, doesn’t guarantee anything. Still, the longer nothing happens, the better I feel.

There’s news on the Slayer line too. All those slayers who were made by what Willow did with the scythe, well, they’re eventually going to die, and there was concern that there wouldn’t be any more. It seems that’s not going to happen. Girls are being born as Slayers. Not many, and according to the information Giles has collated, there’ve been maybe five a year born so far. Some have even been born to current Slayers which leads to the possibility that there’s actually a mundane, genetic component to the whole thing.

I’m really very lucky. When I think back to when I was fifteen, and first knew about my destiny, it all seemed so short term. No one would have expected I’d live this long, let alone have things turn out the way they did. Despite Spike’s comment about it being odd having a baby around, we’ve been talking about having one of our own. Now that Angel’s taking a more active part in things, it’s probably the right time. The only thing I could wish is that my mom was here to see me. She knew what I was and she knew I was in daily danger. She knew I had little hope of long term life let alone happiness, and I know that hurt her. It would hurt any mother. Yet, once she got used to the idea, she just supported me. It would be great if she could see me now. I know she’d be very happy. But then, if she’s in the same place Tara is, she probably does know.

“You ok, Pet?” Spike asks, concern on his face.

I realise I’d fallen so far into my thoughts that my eyes are actually filling a bit. I wipe at them roughly then go back to stirring the puréed carrot in front of me.

“I’m fine, Spike. Just thinking about Mom. Wondering if she knows how happy I am.”

“Don’t know, Pet,” Spike replies, putting his arms around my waist. “Reckon she might, though.”

“Yeah, hope so.”

Spike kisses me then, warm and soft but threatening harder and more demanding, but we’re interrupted by a cry from behind us. We break apart guiltily to find Emily crying, tears running down her cheeks.

“What’s wrong?” Spike asks, almost panicking as he rushes towards the child. Magically, Emily stops crying as soon as she’s got our attention.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was jealous,” I answer, looking at her suspiciously.

“What? Does that mean I’m not allowed to kiss you all weekend?”

“Looks that way,” I answer. “Of course, after lunch, she’ll have a nap, and then she won’t be able to see what’s happening.”

“Nap, eh? Sounds like a good idea. You get her fed and off to sleep, and we can have a little lie down too.”

“Sleepy, Spike?” I ask, smiling at his expression.

“Not yet, but you can take that as a challenge,” he replies, waggling his eyebrows in a manner that Emily seems to find amusing.

“A challenge, eh? And what do I get if I succeed?”

“I’ll think of something,” he promises.

And you know what? I bet he does.

The End

Thanks so much for all the feedback - it's been very much appreciated. A special word of thanks to my beta, tgeyer who's been such a huge help throughout the story.