Sorry for the delay - I'll try to get this one moving again on a regular basis. Remember, Three for a Girl is the third part of the Magpie series that started with One for Sorrow.
 

Chapter 8 – Progress at a Cost

He hasn't given us details, but it seems that Westgate's got a lead on someone above him who's in league with the followers of Blar. He managed to get the information as a result of researching the personnel involved in the attempted snatch of Dawson. He's following that lead and trying to find any others who might be involved.

We, on the other hand, have had almost no luck with Dawson. She's been determined not to say anything, and standard truth spells don't work because she seems to be able to almost switch off. It's as if she can't hear the questions, and therefore, she's not compelled to answer. Willow's been working that problem for days already, gradually putting together more and more potent combinations of magics hoping to break through the barrier. I think tonight's our last hope. As it is, Willow's nervous with this latest idea, and has had to get it checked out thoroughly by Jenna. I can see that Jenna's concerned by the power behind the spell, but she knows, as do the rest of us, that anything less just won't succeed.

We agreed earlier that we'd all meet back at the mansion, and as it was my stint there anyway this afternoon, I've been immersed in some books in the room next to the one that houses Dawson's cage.

I don't get any pleasure out of seeing her in that thing. We've given her a number of 'comforts' - a folding bed, blankets, and we make sure she's got privacy to use the pot we've left. She's fed regularly, and given water, but she's eaten little since she arrived. I think she's convinced that we're going to try to poison her, and nothing we can do will persuade her otherwise.

I check my watch, noting that only two minutes have gone by since the last time I looked. I put down the book in my hand with a sigh. Useful as the information within it might be, the Chronicles of D'mansk are written in the sloppiest Latin it's ever been my misfortune to read. It's a translation of a much older text which was found by a minor noble in Romania four hundred years ago. Unfortunately, the original was lost again almost as soon as it was translated, and this travesty is all we've got left. The only reason I've been ploughing through it is because it's purported to have a peculiarly powerful truth spell buried in its depths. From what I've read, it should stay buried.

I hear footsteps behind me, and I start despite the fact that Willow's put so many wards around this building that no one she hasn't approved can even see the building, much less get into it.

It's Xander, still dressed for work, and with a bag of some sort of fast food. He immediately sits down at the table and pulls a Styrofoam container from the bag, eating its contents as though he hasn't eaten in a while.

"Want one?" he offers between bites. "I suppose I should offer one to our guest, but there're a couple more in there."

I decline the offer, and turn away in time to see Willow arriving with Jenna. Willow looks pale, and I glance at Jenna, looking for some sort of reassurance, but she either doesn't see or decides not to impart any information.

"You all set?" Xander asks, wiping crumbs and ketchup from around his mouth.

"As I'll ever be," Willow replies, moving directly into the next room. Jenna follows closely on her heels, and Xander and I follow behind.

Dawson seems not to have moved since I last checked her. She's lying on her bed, staring at the ceiling. When she sees it's all of us this time, she sits and watches us carefully. She sneers when she spots Willow preparing for another spell.

"I'll say this much for you," she admits. "You don't give up. You know your magic won't work on me, yet you keep trying. My family was chosen for the service of Blar because of our special abilities. We are resistant to magics of all sorts, and we have extreme powers of concentration. I'll just shut out whatever you throw at me again. And you're running out of time. Sooner or later, they'll find where you've got me, and I'll be rescued. When that happens, you'll all be destroyed."

"Yeah, yeah, heard it all before," Xander tells her, approaching the cage and putting a Styrofoam container between the bars to leave her food inside the cage.

She eyes it suspiciously, and then ignores it.

Willow signals that she's ready, and immediately begins, first with the spell to diminish Dawson's will, and then with the strongest truth spell she can find. She takes Jenna's hand at one point, and it appears that it's some sort of pre-arranged signal, as Jenna takes over the chanting which I recognise as being part of the truth spell. It seems that the will-weakening aspect of things is being fought and Willow needs to concentrate on it.

I stand in front of Dawson, and immediately spot the differences from our previous attempts. Before, Dawson would just sit, her eyes closed, looking for all the world as though she was simply indulging in a spot of meditation. This time, her posture is tense and rigid, and there's a sheen of sweat on her face despite the cool air that pervades this building. I take it as a good sign, and so I begin my questions.

"Tell me the names of those who follow Blar who are involved in the Defenders," I demand quietly.

She tenses further, and I spot a trembling in her limbs. I hear Willow gasp, and I spin around to see what's happening, but apart from the fact that she's got a matching sheen on her face, I see nothing to alarm me, and so I turn back to Dawson and repeat my demand.

And this time, she answers. She gives us three names, two of which, judging by the ranks she assigns, are quite junior, but the third, as Westgate suspected, is a senior officer. I continue with my requests for information, insisting each time that she tells me everything she knows. Dawson tries to resist throughout, and by the time I've got the information I need, she's shaking as if gripped by a terrible fever. I nod to Willow to finish, and with one last gasp, Willow's head hits the table, and I turn to see Dawson collapsing in a heap on the floor.

Xander rushes to Willow's side, and I approach Dawson as closely as the bars will allow, wondering if I dare go in to check her vital signs. I watch carefully, unable to see any sign of life. I glance behind me to see how Willow's doing, and to my surprise, I find her sobbing softly. Forgetting about our captive, I rush over to her, questioning Xander with my eyes.

"Don't know what happened," he answers. "She seemed to pass out, then she started crying. She hasn't said anything."

It's only then that I spot Jenna's face. She's so pale she looks more like a vampire than a human.

"What happened?" I demand.

"She's gone," Jenna replies.

"Who? Dawson? Is she dead?"

"Dawson," Jenna agrees, but Willow interrupts.

"Not dead, just gone."

"What do you mean? How is she gone?"

"Her mind," Jenna supplies. "Her mind just went 'snap'. It's like it just shattered into pieces, and she's not there any more."

I look at the two women, not convinced I believe what they're saying, but unable to doubt the sincerity of their belief.

"Xander, come with me," I demand, returning to the cage.

He follows me, ready to back me up when I open the cage. I do so, walking cautiously towards the prone figure. As I get close, she moves suddenly, her head turning around to face me, and I start, taken by surprise. When I'm sure that the movement doesn't seem threatening, I continue, standing over her so I can see her face.

It doesn't look like the same person. She has the same colouring, shape of face, nothing like that has changed, but I would never have recognised her. Gone is the sneering, supercilious expression that I've come to associate with her. In its place is a face so blank it would look out of place on a very young child. She looks at me without recognition or reaction of any sort. She makes no attempt to escape despite the open door behind me. Before, Xander's presence wouldn't have stopped her at least trying.

I really don't know what to do now, so I leave the cage and lock it behind me. As I turn the key, I consider the fact that it seems totally unnecessary, but then it also seems harmless in the circumstances.

I walk back to Willow and Jenna, hoping they'll be recovered enough to explain.

"What happened?" I ask, trying to keep the concern I feel out of my tone.

Willow's face is damp with tears, and she looks right at me with her eyes that don't see my face.

"She did it. She chose to destroy her mind. I knew something was happening – she was fighting the spell, but I expected that. But it was different this time. She wasn't just fighting the truth spell, it went deeper, but I didn't understand until it was too late. As soon as I throttled back on the power for the will suppression, she was there, in my mind, and she made me feel everything as she just switched off. It was horrible, Giles."

She starts to sob again, and Xander takes her in his arms.

"Did you feel it too?" I ask Jenna.

"I got some of it, but not all. She aimed her thoughts at Willow, I just caught what Willow passed on. But it was her choice – Dawson's choice."

"But why? If we've already discovered everything we needed to, why would she do it?"

And as I ask the question, I answer it.

"Because there's more. There's something else, and she was afraid we'd get that too."

She made the decision. It wasn't me. I keep repeating the words in my head, but it doesn't make any difference. Logic doesn't help me this time; I feel responsible for Dawson's state. Guilt is something I've become familiar with recently, and another major dose is the last thing I need, but reason just flew out the window. I think the only one who understands why I feel the way I do is Jenna, and that's because she felt it along with me; she felt the snapping of the connections in a human mind that led to something else – a human body without independent thoughts.

Giles and Xander decided what to do with her. They've taken her to the local hospital where they're going to spin a tale of finding her wandering the streets. And, of course, being Sunnydale, no one's going to raise an eyebrow. They argued that we couldn't keep looking after her indefinitely, and they're right, but it still feels wrong. Giles is going to contact Westgate when they're done.

Jenna hasn't left my side since it happened. We packed up at the mansion, and got back here where she's made me some tea, but it really hasn't helped. Maybe, with time, I'll feel better. Maybe.

I wonder whether I feel worse purely because it's my own worst nightmare – losing my mind. And not in the sense of still working just not the same way everyone else's does. Her mind simply doesn't exist any more in any sense beyond the automatic functions, and who knows how many of them might have been affected too. We all knew she was fanatical, but to be able to do that to herself ... that's just ... words couldn't describe how I feel about that. Yes, words, failing Willow Rosenberg.

Jenna comes back into the room, and there's a perplexed frown on her face. I ask her what's wrong, but she just shrugs it off. I go to my laptop just for the sake of doing something ... anything useful. Just to take my mind off the horror of this afternoon.

How did things get so horrible? In the early days, we faced vampires and whatever, but there weren't any doubts. We were right and they were wrong, and we did what we had to do. It was hard, sometimes, and things didn't always work out the way we hoped they would. Now? Everything's grey. Evil wears a human face and I know I'm not the white hat I once thought I was. Everything's muddled and dirtied.

I think about Buffy. She got it. Before the rest of us. She knew things were muddy. I suppose having to send Angel to Hell might have been part of it, but she got it. And now, she's the one who's got a chance to live normally for a while – away from the Hellmouth. She's the one with a partner who loves her and a child of her own. I just wonder how they're doing.

Sorry for the delay - I'll try to get this one moving again on a regular basis. Remember, Three for a Girl is the third part of the Magpie series that started with One for Sorrow.
 

Chapter 9 - Careful What you Wish For

 It's not the normal life I once envisaged, but it's good. No, it's not perfect. It couldn't be. Not being able to contact my friends is so hard. I knew it would be, but I didn't realise just how hard. Having a child has made me even more aware of the need for family, or in the absence of a natural family, of friends. Don't get me wrong; Spike's great. He's everything I could ask of him. And more. But I love my friends too, and I miss them.

The lifestyle's not what I expected either. I'm not a country girl. Never was. Living here is beautiful, but it's so remote compared with where I lived before. It's getting busier, though, as the summer moves along. The local village has a constant flow of people staying for a week or two and then going home. There're a couple of RV parks close by and they're full of families with very young children. According to Morwenna, soon, when the schools finish, the families will have older children and it won't be possible to find anywhere to park a car in the village. And isn't that strange? School here doesn't finish until more than half way through July.

After our outing with the vampires a few weeks ago, things have become quite routine. Spike goes to work each evening, not getting back until the early hours of the next morning. He has managed to buy a small car - it seems tiny to me - so he doesn't have to borrow the Coven's any more. Which, of course, leaves that one available for me, but I'd have to pass a test here to be able to drive it. A UK licence came with Spike's various papers, but not with mine.

Still, we sleep late, well, as late as Zara will allow, and spend the late mornings and afternoons together, so we get out and about then. It's just the evenings that seem to drag on. I find myself looking out of the windows of the cottage some nights, almost wishing there was something out there I could go and kill.

True to his word, Spike managed to persuade his boss to let us use his gym occasionally - normally on Spike's day off. We set Zara up in her stroller to watch - well out of the way - and we spar. It feels so good, and she seems to enjoy watching too.

Tonight, I'm at my usual post as the sun sets. My nose is almost against the glass, and a gentle breeze from the open window ruffles my hair. Spike's gone to work, and Zara's asleep. The TV's on, something I haven't seen before - Silent Witness. It looks pretty good, but when you've seen all the dead bodies I have, a show based around post mortem evidence can seem a little tame. I'm idly wishing for something to kill - nothing too dangerous, just something that'll let me stretch my muscles for something real.

The phone rings, and I answer it to hear Morwenna's voice. She often calls late, knowing I won't even think of going to bed until Spike's almost due home. She asks if she can come over, and I tell her for the umpteenth time that she doesn't have to ask. When she gets to the door five minutes later, she's armed with a home made chocolate cake.

We chat about Zara while I make tea, and then go into the living room, with cups and large slices of the rich, chocolaty cake. I switch off the TV as the theme that sounds like chanting in Latin starts up. I already know by the tension in Morwenna that she's got something to tell me, but she won't say anything until we're sitting down. By that, at least, I assume it's either good news, or nothing too serious. At last, she opens her mouth to speak.

"I've had news from Sunnydale."

I look up. Despite my certainty a moment ago that it wouldn't be serious, my heart starts thumping loudly in my ears.

"Oh, my dear, it's not bad news," she says, grabbing my hand in hers. "I should think before I open my big mouth. No, really, it sounds like the reverse. Your friends have managed to get information on the members of the Defenders who are supporters of Blar. They're quite hopeful that they can trap them in some way so they'll give away their dual purpose."

I exhale loudly. It does sound like good news, but the frustration I feel at hearing about it second hand flares anew.

"How did they do it? Was it Dawson?"

"Yes, it was. Willow managed to find a combination of spells that worked. Unfortunately ..."

She pauses, and I tense again. If that woman's on the loose again, I'll ....

"It seems this Dawson woman was able to trigger the destruction of her mind if someone was close to something important. Your friend felt it as it happened. Even Jenna felt some of it, and she's very upset. How Willow feels ... it must have been quite dreadful."

"She destroyed her mind? How is that even possible?"

"As to how? There are spells, curses would be a better description, which could give you such an effect. They'd have to be planted deep, or I'm sure Willow or Jenna would have felt something in advance. Maybe there're other techniques; I don't know."

"So where is she?"

"Dawson? They took her to the hospital. Her mind's completely blank, according to Jenna. They're not even sure there's enough left to keep her vital processes going."

"But it could be an act ... a sham. If she's free ..."

"I thought of that possibility too, my dear. I got Jenna to replay what happened to me, and I don't think anyone could fake that. I could be wrong, but I'd be willing to wager a lot that it's real enough."

"Willow felt it, you say?"

"She felt it first hand. Jenna just caught what Willow couldn't fully absorb. Sadly, Willow's feeling guilty about doing what she had to do. Of course, she has no reason to feel guilty; the damage was done by Dawson, or perhaps by whoever planted the curse in the first place, but given her recent history, it's perhaps not surprising that she'd feel as she does. Jenna was worried enough that she asked for permission to bring Willow back here. While it's gratifying that our work to erase knowledge of your whereabouts has been so successful, we've had to turn down Jenna's request, and it would appear that Jenna's taken that as a suggestion that we feel that Willow's responsible in some way."

"Why can't she come here?" I demand. My first reaction is that, if she's here, I can help her get over it. She needs a friend right now. And Zara would help take her mind off it anyway.

Morwenna looks at me, her expression sad. "My dear, if Willow were to come here, it would endanger your own family. If she came here openly, it would draw attention to all of us, and increase the chance of your discovery. And if we were to bring her here as we brought you, then her disappearance would, at the very least, cause others to consider a supernatural reason for your disappearance, and that in turn, might lead to them looking here."

And, of course, she's making sense. And it serves to leave me feeling even more cut off than before.

"But, remember," Morwenna continues, her hand on my shoulder as if she understands how I feel, "if they can get the Defenders out of the way, then it brings closer the time you can go back to Sunnydale."

She's right; I know she is. I smile, hoping it looks more natural than it feels.

"Now," Morwenna continues, "on to other matters. Have you given any more thought to going to the Mothers Group that meets in the village? I know, it's on when Spike's around, but it'd do you good to meet some other women your own age. It'll be good for Zara too as she gets older; give her a chance to mix with other little ones."

"When is it again?" I ask, more for something to say than because I've forgotten.

"Wednesdays at one thirty. It's in the village hall. It's only an hour and a half, because some of the mums need to get away to collect older ones from the village school, but I think you'd enjoy it."

I promise her I'll think about it. My first reaction when she suggested it last time was that we weren't going to be here long enough for me to need to make friends. I had hoped that things would be wrapped up enough to let us go home before the end of the summer, but here it is, mid July, and we've only really had our first breakthrough.

We're still chatting, now about little things - how Zara was today, what Morwenna's been doing, when a scream sounds loud and clear through the open window. Our cottage is close to the road, while the main house is some distance away. Despite our proximity to the road, the only sound we normally get after dark is occasional traffic. We both run to the front window, but, with no street lights there's nothing to see.

"Morwenna, stay here with Zara, will you? I'm going to see what's happening."

"But, my dear, is that wise? You don't know what it could be."

"I've probably faced pretty much anything it's likely to be, and if it's something new, then I'm probably fairly well equipped anyway."

I stop just long enough to pick up a knife that Spike bought a while ago, just in case, and a couple of stakes, before rushing out into the darkness. I find my way down to the road without light, and then stand, waiting for my eyes to finish adjusting to the gloom, and listening with ever fibre. At last, I hear something, not another scream, just a moan, but it's enough to give me a direction, so I follow it.

The road is quiet at this time of night, but I follow it along in the opposite direction to the village. Soon, I spot a car, parked in a turnout and some motion close to it. I freeze, extending my senses towards the car and pick up the unmistakable feel of a vampire. Deciding that speed is more important than stealth, I run towards the movement, and find a vampire wrestling with a girl. There's a body hanging out of the driver's door, and the girl is doing her best, but it'll never be enough when you've got vamp strength to contend with. Fortunately for me, he's so intent on his victim that he doesn't hear me approaching, so staking him is embarrassingly easy.

The girl seems to pass out as the vamp dusts, and I catch her before she hits the ground. She's bleeding heavily from a neck wound, but she's not in any immediate danger. I lay her on the ground, and go to the car. Her companion's in a much worse state. Not dead, but by the feeble pulse I can get, he's lost an awful lot of blood. I pat my pockets, praying that I remembered to bring my cell phone with me. Relief washes over me as I find it, and quickly dial 999. I ask for an ambulance, and then ring the cottage to let Morwenna know what happened. She promises help from the main house. Then I turn to the two victims. I find a jacket in the car, and I rip it to provide padding for both neck wounds. I hold the padding in place, praying for the ambulance to turn up quickly.

First to arrive are a couple of women I recognise slightly, and they're armed with a first aid kit. Between them, they replace the padding on the wounds, and take over looking after both of the victims. They don't speak, which is rather disconcerting, but since I've got little to say once I've explained what happened, it doesn't really matter.

Inevitably, it seems to take forever, but at last I hear the ambulance. Of course, the paramedics want to know what happened, but I have to play dumb and just tell them that I heard a scream and came out to see if something was wrong. I don't make any mention of vampires, and keep both stakes and knife out of sight. They tell me that the police will want to speak to me, and get both victims loaded.

"Are they going to be ok?" I ask, knowing the answer, but hoping that I'm wrong.

"The girl'll be fine, most like. The lad? I honestly don't know. You did what you could. Putting pressure on the wounds meant you minimised the blood loss. If you hadn't come along, they'd both have been dead before sunrise, and it's not very likely they'd be spotted before then."

I nod, and help to gather up the first aid supplies before saying goodnight to the others and returning to the cottage. The paramedic said I did what I could, and that's true. What he didn't know is that I'd been sort of wishing for something to fight earlier this evening, and I got what I wanted. I didn't want anyone to get hurt though. He called him a lad. I didn't realise at first, but that's what he was. He was driving, so he must've been seventeen, but he couldn't have been any more, and the girl was probably younger. I assume they'd parked there, eager to have some time alone.

Once inside, it takes me a while to persuade Morwenna that none of the blood on my clothes is mine. I give her the minimal story, then go to have a shower and change my clothes. Once that's done, I go back downstairs and give her the full version. Vampires. Again. In an area that hasn't had any for longer than anyone can remember. Either the one tonight belonged with those we dusted a few weeks ago, or there's been a significant influx of vampires to an area that really doesn't seem to offer them a lot. Whichever, it looks like my 'normal life' won't be quite as normal as it seemed.

Chapter 10 - Feelings from a Distance

It's a pretty standard evening for a Friday. Weekends are a bit different from weekdays because you get some locals in as well as the holidaymakers. It's not often a problem, but sometimes there's a bit of irritation if the local lads think the others are trying to be too flash. Truth is, there's not a lot of money around here. Sure, there're jobs, but not the way you get in the cities. I know I'm lucky to have found something at all, and the money's not up to much. Used to be that it was a cheap place to live too, but not any more. Now, houses are being bought up as holiday homes and the locals can't afford to buy. Inevitably, it hits the younger ones hard when they're stuck living at home for longer than they want to, often doing the sorts of jobs that they know aren't going anywhere.

So, I'm standing, watching. I spend a lot of time doing that, but what isn't obvious is that I'm doing more than watching. Along with this new-and-improved body comes a sense sort of like I had as a vamp, but it seems more general. I can feel emotions. With strangers it's not that big a deal, so I've got to concentrate on it. Only becomes really obvious when it's on a bigger scale. Nervousness doesn't give me much of a sensation. Terror I spot in a flash. The boss has said a time or two that I have a nose for spotting trouble before it gets out of hand, but I don't think he has any idea how I do it. Not that I'm complaining, 'cos it keeps me in this job. The Monastery's the biggest club in the town, and it's also got a reputation for being the safest, and it's my job to make sure it stays that way. Like the boss says, if the girls don't feel safe, they won't come. And if there aren't any girls, then the lads aren't going to come either. Anyway, I'm getting this niggling feeling, so I'm casting around, trying to spot its source. I soon realise it's coming from outside, so I make my way out to the car park, quickly spotting the cause.

I recognise the girl right away. She's a regular – Mandy, I think, comes here with some friends most weekends. I suspect she's younger than she looks, but she sticks to soft drinks so the boss hasn't said anything. The bloke is one I saw her dancing with earlier. He's not local – London by his accent, and a rugby player if I'm any judge. Dressed like he's got some money too. Exactly the sort that's going to catch the eye of someone like her.

He's telling her to get into his car, and she's trying to get away, but he's holding on to her. She's just a slip of a thing too. Reminds me of Dawn but maybe not so tall, and that memory doesn't do anything to help my rapidly escalating anger.

"Girl told you to leave her alone," I tell him, my hand on his shoulder.

"What's it to you?" he demands, grabbing her tighter with one arm.

"I'm responsible for security at the Monastery, and that includes ensuring our regulars feel safe here. Now, if you don't let her go, I'll have to call the police."

He draws himself up to his full height in an attempt to intimidate me. And he's over six feet. Well over. Built like a tank too, but there's some flab among the muscle. He obviously expects me to be wary of him now, but then, he doesn't know me.

"Look, mate. I've been with her for hours. She came out here with me knowing what I had in mind. Just decided to be difficult – probably wants to get something out of it. Nothing for you to worry about, so why don't you just go on inside and we'll leave."

"You leave if you wish, but the girl isn't leaving with you unless she wants to."

I turn to her, her eyes are big, expecting me to save her.

"What do you want to do? Leave with him, or go back inside?"

"Go back," she says quickly. "He just said it was too hot in there and he needed some air. He didn't mention anything else until we got out here."

"Right." She seems a little unsteady on her feet, and her speech is just a little slurred.

I place a hand on the wrist of the arm that's holding her and squeeze gently. "Let her go please, Sir," I request. My words are polite enough, but my tone is as full of menace as I can manage.

His expression changes when I squeeze, and his grip on the girl is loosened. What can I say? I've got a strong, manly grip. She immediately runs towards the building.

I turn to see her safely inside and he takes the opportunity to do exactly as I hoped he would. He tries to hit me, but I deflect his hand and get in a punch of my own. He reels and falls backwards. While he's on the ground, I pull a radio from my pocket and press the button on it. "Call the police, please," I request when I get a reply.

Idiot on the ground sits himself up, still rubbing his chin.

"Good, you get the police here," he threatens. "Then I'll tell them how you assaulted me."

I glance behind me at the security cameras. I made absolutely sure they got a good view of what happened.

"Reckon the tape'll tell a different story," I answer. His eyes follow mine to the cameras, taking in their positions. "You tried to hit me first. I was just protecting myself against someone who's a lot bigger than I am. And I'm sure they'll want to know all about what happened with Mandy."

That stops him. "Look, it's not like I was doing anything she didn't want. Nothing for the police to get involved with."

"How about her drinks? You been spiking them for her?"

Now, that got a look of panic. His eyes look down and I've got all the proof I need.

"So what if I did? I know you're not supposed to bring in your own drink, but it's hardly a police matter, now is it?"

"It is if she's not eighteen."

"What d'ya mean? Course she's eighteen."

"Don't know, not for sure, but I don't think she is. Never orders anything but coke or orange juice for herself. Bar staff'll back me up on that. So, if she tests positive, we'll know where it came from, won't we?"

Of course, he tried to leave, and I had to stop him. Didn't do much damage, really. Far less than he deserved, but the police would have to haul me in too if I'd given him what he deserved. By the time the police have taken him away, and we make sure Mandy's on her way home in a cab, it isn't long till closing time.

And then I realise that the niggle hasn't gone – at least, not entirely. Nothing to see inside, so I send out my sense wider, and realised it's Buffy. I go straight upstairs and call home, relieved to hear her voice. She tells me what happened, but assures me she's fine. I go and find the boss, explain that something's happened at home, and he tells me to leave, that everything's under control.

I drive back faster than I should, but there's no one around and my reflexes are better than most. Once inside, I check Buffy and Zara, make sure they're ok, then sit Buffy down to get her to tell me the whole story. By the time she's finished, I'm feeling sick. When we met some vamps that was fine. It's how we used to be. Knowing that there were some vamps so close to home – to Zara – that's different. It could just be that vamps are attracted to the Slayer, I mean, they are, know it from a personal angle, but I'm worried it's more than that, and I know the same thing has occurred to Buffy. It could be that Blar has found us, and therefore, that he's found Zara. And that's a prospect that makes my blood run colder than it ever did while I was a vampire.

Chapter 11 - One Coincidence Too Many

Having delivered Dawson to a hospital, Xander goes to see how Willow's doing, and I go home so I can contact Westgate. I want to share the information we've got quickly so it can be dealt with before word gets out that we have it.

I call Westgate as we've arranged for me to do, just giving a single word which is his clue to call me back from a secure location. I'm surprised it takes as long as it does - normally, he rings back within half an hour, but this time he keeps me waiting two hours. I've all but given up waiting when he calls.

"Westgate. Sorry it took so long; things have been busy. What did you get from Dawson?"

I give him the names, then describe what happened to Dawson. There's a silence on the other end for longer than seems natural before Westgate replies.

"Those names you gave me? Looks like the same thing happened to them. Two were found staring vacantly ahead of them and one is dead - he was at the wheel of his car, and according to eyewitnesses, he just ploughed off the road. That's why it took me so long to get back to you. The whole organisation is in turmoil - two of them are senior people here, and there're rumours all over that it's some sort of virus or something."

"There were five names," I remind him. "What about the others?"

"Well, I already suspected one of them, but he's off duty so I don't know. I'll check him out. The other one? He's a surprise. Very junior - but he's been an aide to a number of senior people. I'll make some inquiries as to where he is, and I'll get back to you."

"Looks like they know we're on to them," I offer.

"So why destroy themselves like that? If that's what they've done. It sounds the same."

"To protect someone or something."

"One of the names we've got or someone else?"

"I suspect we'll know the answer to that when you've worked out if anyone's missing from your tally."

Westgate promises to get back to me, and I hang up. I'm concerned. Everything I thought we'd gained seems to be slipping through our fingers. I hit the desk where I'm sitting in frustration. I consider going over to see how Willow's doing, but then I spot the time. I'll leave it until tomorrow er, later today. I could go to bed, but I'm too wound up for that. Anyway, if Westgate's going to get back to me, I might as well be awake. Instead, I pour myself a glass of whisky and consider our options. It's looking worryingly as if we're running out. What we really need is a bit of luck.

Much later, I get the call I've been waiting for. It's Westgate again, and he's sounding worried.

"Haven't got much time. Found one of the two we were wondering about - he's the same as the others. Probably found the other one too - although we don't have a positive ID. There was a fire at his apartment building- they pulled one body out of his apartment, and he lived alone. Looks like we might be looking for someone else."

"What's his name - the one in the fire?"

"He's the one that surprised me - Jim Stevenson. Not remarkable at all, unless you check his history. He's been assigned to work for all of the others at some time in the past three years."

"That's ..." I begin, but I'm interrupted.

"I've got to go. Don't call again. Someone's been pointing fingers at me, and ..."

And the connection is dead.

I give up on any idea of sleep, and put on a pot of coffee before going to shower. By the time I'm feeling fresher, and I've got a couple of cups of coffee in me, I'm almost feeling human, so I head round to see Willow. It's early, but not excessively so.

I'm met at the door by Xander who, by his dishevelled appearance, has been sleeping in his clothes.

"How is she?" I ask.

"Asleep. But it took some fairly major work from Jenna to get her to sleep. Some potion or other. Jenna's asleep too. So, what did Westgate say? Pleased with the information?"

I explain what happened, and the smile disappears from Xander's face.

"So we're back to square one? I don't believe it."

"What don't you believe?" says a familiar voice from the doorway. It's Anya.

"I was looking for Xander. He wasn't at home, and I wanted to be sure he wasn't with someone else, if you know what I mean."

I'm about to start the story again when Jenna joins us, explaining that she heard voices.

"How's Willow?" I ask.

"Still asleep, and I think that's for the best."

"Yes, yes, quite."

"So what's happened? I'm seeing some long faces here."

And so I get to explain everything again.

"So, it looks as though when Dawson triggered that curse, or whatever it was, that it triggered the same thing in the other conspirators."

"They're all gone?" Jenna asks.

"Looks like it, although we don't have identification on one. There was a fire at his apartment, and one body was recovered. And Westgate's in trouble. It sounds like someone's trying to incriminate him."

"But we don't know who," Jenna offers.

"No, we don't. But this man who was apparently killed in the fire - he's ... well, there's a bit too much coincidence around him for my liking. He's the common link between all the others. He has worked for all of them in the past three years."

"And a fire sounds like a coincidence too. If the body was burned enough, it could be weeks before we'd know for sure if the it was him, and that's assuming that the authorities think there's enough doubt to instigate an investigation," Anya adds.

"You're right, Anya. I'm worried about him. I wish we had more information."

"I could go and, you know, chat to Westgate."

"What if he's been arrested?" Xander asks.

Anya just gives him a look. "I can find him, and if he's locked up somewhere, then I can talk to him if I need to. If I can't, then, well, I'll just come back."

"I'd appreciate it, Anya," I tell her. "But don't take any risks."

"I won't," she promises, and being Anya, I believe her.

Xander goes out to get some doughnuts, and Jenna goes to shower, leaving me to my thoughts again. When Anya reappears, she takes me by surprise.

"Talk about chaos," she exclaims, sitting down. "Xander's outside with doughnuts. I'll explain when he comes in."

And, five minutes later, with the four of us together again, she does.

"The base has been as good as evacuated. Just a few essential people left, and Westgate's locked in one of their holding cells."

"What did he say?"

"The theory seems to be that the mind destruction was caused by some sort of agent - viral or chemical - and that someone with access to the base was responsible. Seems they found some vials and Westgate's been fingered as the owner."

"How about the fire?"

"I went and had a look, but it's still too hot. Wouldn't kill me, but it'd ruin my clothes. Managed to get into the morgue, though. The body could be anyone."

"So, he could be free, and we've got no idea where he is. Could we find out what he looks like?"

"It's possible," Anya offers. "You won't get any photos out of that apartment, though. But there are probably records, you know, on computer."

"And that's where I come in," says a voice from behind.

"Willow, you should be asleep!" Jenna tells her, getting up. Willow certainly looks like she should be asleep, but she's got that look on her face that I know means she's not going to be dissuaded. And if she's willing to help, then we need her.

"How are you feeling?" I ask her.

"I've been better," she admits. "But I get the idea that things have changed since I went to sleep. Why don't you tell me what happened."

And so I go through it all again. It's surprisingly helpful. I mean, as I'm explaining, I'm thinking about the reasons for everything, and the more I consider, the more likely it seems that this Jim Stevenson is more than he seems.

"So it was more than just Dawson that got the broken mind treatment," Willow comments at the end of it. "It's probably not logical, but that almost makes me feel, well, less guilty. Like it was something that was going to happen some time and not something I did."

"I'd say you're right," I confirm. "Blar obviously doesn't hold his followers in any esteem at all. He uses them and blinds them with empty promises, but all the loyalty's strictly one-way."

Willow nods, then goes to get her laptop. She sits at it and gets to work. She still seems subdued, but if she can see things the way she said, then it's got to be a step forward.

Xander decides to go home and get changed before going to work. He's right that there's nothing he can do now. Come to that, there's nothing I can do, but I'm compelled to stay. Once Xander's gone, Anya decides to leave too, although she does promise that she'll be around if she's needed.

Desperate for something to do, I follow Jenna into the kitchen when she takes the coffee cups in. There are other dishes there too - looks like washing up hasn't been a priority here for a day or so. Still, it gives us something to do. Jenna washes and I dry in silence. Neither of us feels the need to talk, and that's good. I don't know about Jenna, but I'm weighing possibilities in my mind. That, and wishing yet again that I knew how Buffy was doing.

Willow's cry from the other room brings us both running.

"It took a while, because, you know, firewall, but I finally got into the system. It's actually less sophisticated than that encryption from the Initiative - you know, the one that unencrypted itself?"

"Quite," I answer, taking a look at the page. It's a standard enough looking personnel record for one James W. Stevenson - age 34.

"Odd, though," Willow comments.

"Why odd?" I ask as Jenna looks over my shoulder.

"Well, you know I don't see things with my eyes, so I can't get the picture directly. I've set up a system where the information from the computer actually draws the pixels in my mind - you know? But it's like the image is blurry. I can't quite make out the face. Is it really as bad as that or is there something wrong with the system?"

"Looks fine to me," I comment. "How about you, Jenna?"

"Yes, perfectly clear. Round face, dark hair, I'd guess blue eyes."

"I wouldn't say dark hair," I disagree. "More fair, and he's got a moustache."

"Are you looking at the same picture?" she asks. "Because the man I see is clean shaven."

"But how can ...?"

"That's what I'm getting!" Willow's voice is more animated than I've heard in a while. "That picture has a built in variability. It keeps changing, but I'd guess that whenever you see it for the first time - that's the picture you see afterwards. I can sort of see it happening, now I know what I'm seeing. Or does that sound stupid?"

"No, sometimes you really do need to know what you're looking at before it makes sense. But how would someone do that?"

"Well," Willow begins. "I don't know the details, but I can imagine that for a person, you could use some sort of rolling glamour. Instead of a static one, you get a shifting range of them - maybe just shifting slowly between two faces. It'd take a lot of power, and it would need to be fed power continually, but I suspect it could be done."

"You mean this man doesn't have a face?"

"It's hard to imagine how the computer image would keep changing if the original face didn't. As to how that works, I really don't know. But yes, I'd reckon that if you talk to six people who know this Jim Stevenson and got them to describe him, then we'd get six different descriptions."

"Just out of interest, describe Dawson to me," I suggest, and Willow's eyes go wide as she realises what I'm suggesting. It doesn't take long, though, for us to realise that we all saw the same Dawson. And just to be sure, I suggest we all do the same for Westgate, but again, he seems to have just the regulation one face.

"So, Jim Stevenson stands out again," Jenna concludes.

"Yes, he does. I wonder if this is the thing that Dawson was trying to keep from us," Willow muses.

"It could be," I agree, "but I can't help but think it's something more profound. Like ..."

"Like the fact that he isn't human?" Jenna's suggestion causes Willow and I to gape at her.

"You mean ..." I start, only to have my sentence finished by Willow.

" ... he could be Blar?"

"Exactly. Now, that would be something Dawson would destroy her mind to keep secret. If she even did it. It could have been externally triggered, given what we know now."

"No, she triggered it," Willow states with certainty. "It just looks like she triggered more than just her own destruction."

"So, and I know we're dealing with an awful lot of ifs here, if Stevenson is Blar, and if he planted someone else in his flat, then he could be anywhere. Either he's running scared because we were too close, ..."

"Which doesn't actually seem that likely," Willow suggests. "I mean, we were only trying to get the Defenders off our back here. We hadn't even tried to hit out at Blar himself."

"He may not have known that, though. The question is, where is he now?"

Chapter 12 - Lights in the Sky

Despite all the evidence, it takes a long time to persuade Spike that both Zara and I are fine. Zara was completely unaware that there was anything wrong, sleeping through the whole thing, and I did more damage to a perfectly good t-shirt than I did to me, but it's obvious he was scared for us. In fact, the effort it took to get him to go to work the next day had to be experienced to be believed. Honestly, if there had been some way he could have hidden us upstairs at the club, then that's what he'd have done. He did suggest it, but I pointed out that loud music probably wasn't the best way to persuade Zara to sleep.

Still, when he got home he had to do an inch by inch check of me, so there were some compensations.

Despite all I've said though, I was a bit shaken by what happened. I've had vampires outside my front door before, and the knowledge that they couldn't come in without an invitation was always a comfort. Even knowing that my mom and my sister were vulnerable, I coped with it. Now, with Zara, the idea leaves me scared. It wasn't a problem at the time - I was too busy doing what I needed to do, but afterwards, when I'd persuaded Morwenna she could go back to the main house, and before Spike got back, I had a major case of nerves.

The police came to talk to me the next day. I told them what I'd decided to- the truth minus any mention of vampires and Slayage, and got from them the information that the incident I saw wasn't the only one, although they wouldn't be more specific and I don't know if they're making the link between the other killing I know about or something else. When I asked about the two who were injured here, the news was, honestly, better than I expected. The girl had already been released, but the boy was still in the hospital - in intensive care. I take the fact that he's not already dead as a good sign, and I'm relieved.

By the time Sunday dawns, the knowledge that Spike has two days off is welcome. We get up to a bright, warm morning - the sort of day where you feel there just couldn't be any evil in the world. The weather alone lifts both our moods. Whatever we might have said to the other one, we were both seriously spooked by what happened, but once we've seen the weather, we decide to go out for the day. Spike's keen to take us to Tintagel Castle which has links with the legend of King Arthur, and to be honest, the history/legend is rather vague to me, but I really don't care. We pack up everything we'll need for Zara, some sandwiches and drinks, sun block, towels, the list seems endless, and as I look at the pile assembled at the door, I've got serious concerns as to whether or not it'll all fit in the car. It does, though, and we set off in good spirits.

And it's a lovely day. The journey takes a couple of hours with Spike keeping to the country roads pretty much the whole way. The differences from what I'm used to are even more apparent on a journey like that. Where I come from, even quiet, narrow roads are open and you can see all around. Here, with the earth hedges that are the normal way of fencing off the fields, it can sometimes seem oppressively dark even on a bright day. Then again, sometimes you come to an area where there are no tall trees growing on or near the hedges, so it's bright and cheerful, and the earth banks themselves are covered in green grass and bright wild flowers.

The castle is beautiful. It's so ruined that there's actually not a lot of wall left, but the view from up there over the water is breathtaking. This part of the coast is rugged, with sheer cliffs falling into the water. We picnic, and when we've had our fill of looking, we move on, eventually coming to a town called Bude.

We wander into some stores, and I find myself looking at little gifts for the guys back home. There's a lot of edible stuff - clotted cream fudge and so on, but I go for things that are less perishable. After a lot of thought, I settle for a souvenir t-shirt for Xander, and a crystal witch for Willow which makes me smile - right down to the green eyes that remind me of my friend. Giles is harder because, well, he's probably been here, but in the end I settle for a book on the history and legends of King Arthur with thoughts that at least I'll be able to learn a bit if I get bored. Then, we buy ice cream, and eat it in the sunshine, and when it's finished, we move on, looking for a quieter beach where we can just enjoy the weather.

It's late when we get back to the cottage. I think Spike got a little burned despite me telling him to use sun block, because his nose is a little red. Zara sleeps the whole way back, apparently exhausted by all the fresh air.

Of course, she wakens when I lift her out of the car, so I take the opportunity to get her bathed and fed while Spike unpacks the car. She falls asleep again while she's feeding, so I put her to bed and go downstairs to see how Spike's doing.

He's got coffee brewing, and I realise with a yawn that I should be choosing between joining Zara in sleep or drinking some. I decide on the latter, as a chance to spend some evening time with Spike. The one problem with the hours he works is that we don't get as much 'just us' time as we would if he had a daytime job. Still, it also means that he gets to spend more awake time with her, so it works out well in the end.

We settle down to watch some TV - something called Monarch of the Glen - but I'm really not watching. I'm just enjoying the comfort of sitting with him, his arm around my shoulder. In fact when, despite the coffee, I start to feel sleepy, I move, putting my head in his lap and my feet up on the other cushion of the sofa. He runs his fingers through my hair, and I come to the conclusion that, for once, life is just about right.

Our evening ends early when we decide to go to bed, making love before settling to sleep.

We're wakened by Zara around three - her exhaustion after her day out apparently over. She feeds, but seems unhappy. She's not dirty, not too hot or cold, but there's something, and I worry what it could be. She's generally such a contented baby that I can't help being concerned. Spike is too. Normally, when I get up to feed her in the night, Spike goes back to sleep quickly, but tonight he's wide awake with me. It's not that she's crying all the time - more that she keeps drifting off and then being wakened by something. There's no sign that she's in pain, and I'm really quite baffled.

Spike offers to take her for a walk around the cottage to try to settle her, and I agree, leaving him with her for a few moments. I consider going back to bed but realise that I couldn't sleep if I did, so I follow them downstairs.

Spike's walking round the living room in the dark, holding a fretting Zara.

"How's she doing?" I ask.

"I reckon she's ok. Maybe a bit of wind or colic or something. She's not running a temperature or anything."

"You sure? We could call a doctor."

"Sure as I can be," he says.

"You want something to drink?" I ask.

"Cup of tea'd be lovely, Pet," he answers.

Here was me thinking orange juice with the, you know, 'open the fridge, get a glass and pour' effort going in, and he wants tea which involves a whole higher level of complexity. Still, I put the kettle on and find the teabags.

From here, I can't hear Zara at all and I hope that she's finally managed to fall asleep. I make the tea, and as I put the teabags in the trash, I glance out of the window, and I'm surprised by the amount of light coming from the direction of the main house. I call Spike, and he joins me in the kitchen. It's not as if we can see the main house really - there's too much greenery between the two buildings. It's just that the whole sky seems to be bright - as if they're burning every light in the place and that seems unlikely given the time.

"You ok to take the Bit?" he asks, handing Zara to me. I take her as I'd been planning to do anyway while he drank his tea, and he disappears, returning a few seconds later in his jeans and a t-shirt.

"I'm going to take a look. If something's going on up there, I want to know what it is."

"I'll come too," I offer.

"Safer to keep Zara here," he argues. "I won't be long, and I'll take the phone."

Zara's finally asleep, but on impulse, I put her into her buggy rather than back upstairs, and I go and throw on some clothes too. I'm feeling edgy without understanding why, but I've been the Slayer long enough to trust my instincts.

About five minutes after Spike leaves, I hear the phone ring and I run to it.

"Don't argue, just get out of there," Spike tells me. "Make for the grounds - the formal gardens. Now."

I don't even take time to hang up after a quick answer, just rush to Zara and push her to the door. Once outside, I move away from the house quickly, keeping to the paths because of the stroller, but running.

The formal gardens are closer to the main house than our cottage, but there are paths throughout and I've become very familiar with all of them since we've been here. Well, I've had a lot of time to spend here, and with the long evenings, it's been a pleasant way to end the day to take Zara for a walk before bedtime.

I hear him coming before I see him, and I might even have been wary if I hadn't been sure it was Spike. The look of relief on his face is clear even by the light of only a three-quarter moon, and he sweeps the buggy up into his arms and we run together to the gardens where there are about twenty or so people milling about. Morwenna sees us and rushes towards us.

"Oh my dears, it's terrible. I hardly know how it's happened, but we're going to have to work hard to put it right. I'll be able to tell you more later, I expect, but I need to go and work with the others," she gushes.

She rushes away again, leaving me entirely uninformed as to what's happening. I turn to Spike looking for an explanation.

"Got to the house in time to see some lights going on inside. Those lights weren't coming from the windows, more from the sky. Don't rightly know what it was, but it looked like a battle royal. Rang the doorbell and Morwenna told me to get you and Zara up here quick as I could, so I called, then I ran to meet you."

Whatever it was that we'd seen in the sky earlier seems to have stopped now. At least, there's none of it visible now. The women Morwenna joined when she left us are now standing in a circle and holding hands. There's an eerie silence all around, and the power emanating from that circle all but makes my hair stand on end.

I glance down at Zara as she reclines in her stroller, sound asleep. I'm just grateful all the panic didn't upset her again.

And then I feel it. The power's wavering, and I glance up at the sky to see the light show starting again but this time it must surely be many times brighter than the last time I saw it. I look over at the others, and judging by the look of strain on the faces there, they're working very hard. Spike's arm winds itself around my waist and he pulls me close.

I don't know how long that struggle lasts, but finally, the light show subsides, and the women break from their circle, each looking more exhausted than her neighbour.

Morwenna spots us, and starts to walk towards us but she seems a little wobbly, so Spike runs to support her. He leads her to a bench in the formal garden, her lilac wrap looking incongruous outside. She sits for a moment, breathing heavily, and then tries to explain.

"We've been under attack," she states. "Something ... powerful managed to break through the wards we have to hide our true nature, and of course, you. This part of the grounds is on a ley line and allows us to siphon energy from the earth so we used that to chase back the source of the attack. It's not human, and in fact, it's nothing we've had contact with before. It's still distant, but if it is Blar..."

"Then he knows where we are," I finish, and Morwenna nods her agreement.

"So what should we do?" I ask.

"For now? I'd suggest you finish the night in the main house. When we had followed the source of the attack back, we put in force a barrier that will keep us safe at least for the hours of daylight. Sunrise won't be long now, so it should be ok. Go and get some sleep."

"And in the morning?" Spike asks.

"Well, it's up to you of course, but your safety here depended on no one knowing you were here. If you've been found, then perhaps there's somewhere else?"

"Sunnydale, I state with absolute certainty.

"Buffy, are you sure?" Spike asks.

"Yes, Spike. The Slayer doesn't run. I needed some time to recover from labour - to get my strength back, but I've done that. We've faced worse than this Blar before with only that small group to help. We'll do it again."

"But it's not just Blar, is it?" Spike argues, but I can see in his eyes that he agrees with me. It's not in his nature to run either.

"Well, there's news on that," Morwenna adds. "It didn't come in until very late, but Jenna reports that the Defenders are in disarray. I'll get the full details to you in the morning, but it seems that once your friends were able to get some information from one of them, the others decided to self destruct."

It seems an odd way to describe something, but I'm past worrying about the details.

"Or maybe they just weren't needed any more because Blar knew how to find us," Spike suggests.

"Whatever," I say. "We'll get some sleep, and in the morning we'll talk about how we're going to get back to Sunnydale."

"Yes," Spike agrees. "You're right, Buffy. We'll be stronger on home ground."

He squeezes me, and I squeeze back, glad that we're not going to argue over this.

Spike leaves me to manage Zara while he helps Morwenna into the house. Most of the residents assemble for some sort of conference, but Spike, Zara and I go up to the room we used when we first arrived. Zara is still sleeping deeply, so I leave her where she is, and Spike and I stretch out on the bed fully clothed. We both know sleep isn't going to come, so we just lie there, watching the sunrise through the window. It looks like our 'holiday' in England is over, but I make up my mind that, some day, we'll come back, and when we do it'll really be a holiday.

Chapter 13 – Back to the Hellmouth

The phone is ringing. I'm so deeply asleep that it takes a finite time for me to realise that it is the phone, and I push out my hand to the table beside my bed to feel for it. I put it to my ear and mutter something that might approximate to my name before waiting to hear about the impending apocalypse. Because surely no one would be phoning me in the middle of the night for anything less.

It's Jenna. As soon as I hear her voice, my belief in an impending apocalypse becomes rather more real, and I sit up in bed and try to shake the befuddledness from my brain.

I hear the words but they don't make sense, so I ask for clarification.

"I'm sorry, Jenna. I'm still half asleep so I probably didn't hear you properly. I thought you said Buffy was coming back."

"That's exactly what I said. I got a message from the Coven a little while ago, and that's what I was told."

"The Coven? But... Does that mean...?"

"That they've been in Devon all this time? Yes."

"But you must be wrong. We haven't dealt with Blar yet – in fact, we don't even know where he is."

"But that's just it. It looks like he found them – that's why they're coming back."

"He found them? Are they ok? Did he...?"

"Giles, it sounds like they're fine. They should be here soon. I thought, maybe, you'd like to be here."

I make some sort of affirmative noise, but I honestly couldn't say what it was. I jump out of bed and reach for the nearest clothes. I'm dressed and out in my car in record time. As I drive through the almost deserted streets of Sunnydale, I think about Buffy. I've missed her more than I realised. It's been worse than when I was in England . Somehow, that seemed natural, and I could picture her in Sunnydale. The way it's been this time – well, let's just say that Sunnydale without her is wrong.

Xander's car is already parked outside the familiar house in Revello Drive, and the door opens before I get the chance to knock.

"Top of the morning, to you," Xander quips. "Looks like we managed to beat them to it. Jenna's just waiting to hear that they're on their way."

"They're teleporting, I assume."

"Yup. And it's not the first time they did it."

"The Coven is extremely powerful," I comment.

"Gives me the shivers," he mutters, looking slightly sick.

"Anya does it," I remind him.

"And she's done it with me in tow. I've got good reasons for shivering."

Willow comes downstairs then. By the look of her she's just out of bed too, but Jenna, when she emerges from the kitchen, looks quite fresh.

"I've put on some coffee," she explains. "They should be here soon, but I'll get a few moments warning."

"Where?" I ask.

"Behind the house is what I suggested. I'll go out there to act as a beacon, and it'll be easier to do it there than into a building."

"Is everything ready... upstairs?"

Willow answers. "We moved a lot of the nursery things into Buffy's room when she went – with Jenna and me here it made more sense. But Buffy's room is usable even with the extra things. We can sort everything else out later."

"I'm going straight back to Devon," Jenna says quietly.

"What? But... you can't," Willow argues. "I still need you."

"No you don't. Willow, you're as ok as you can be. And the Coven needs me. They're expecting another attack as soon as it's dark. I've got to go. If... I'd appreciate it if you'd send on my things, you know, once I'm back there."

"Of course," Willow answers. "Is there anything we can do, you know, for the Coven?"

"You're needed here, Willow. Whatever power you have will probably be tested in the near future."

"I know, but..."

"And when this is all over, it'd be great if you could come and visit."

"Thanks, I'd like that," Willow agrees, hugging Jenna.

Not wanting to upset the others, I don't ask what's worrying Jenna so badly. Willow must be picking up on it too, with her enhanced sensitivities, but I'm almost certain that Jenna's more worried than she's trying to seem. I glance at Xander, but it's obvious that he's not thinking beyond the fact that Buffy's coming back. Sometimes I envy him his ability to home in on what's important to him and ignore the bigger picture.

Jenna seems to be staring off into the distance, and there's a reverent hush before she smiles.

"They're ready. I'll just go outside..."

And of course, she's not the only one who goes outside. We all follow, and I feel rather like a sheep.

It's a strange scene. Willow, Xander and I stand with our backs to the house, while Jenna faces us. It's dark, with just the light spilling from the windows to illuminate the scene, but it's enough to see that Jenna has her eyes closed. I don't feel anything directly, but by the way Willow tenses, I suspect she does, and then, without any apparent fuss, they're there - Buffy and Spike, and their daughter.

Willow and Xander spring forward, both talking so fast it's virtually incomprehensible, but I hold back. I'll get my chance to welcome them, but first, I need to talk to Jenna.

She moved away from the others as soon as they arrived. It could be she was just overwhelmed by the welcome Willow and Xander were giving the new arrivals, but I think it's more than that.

"Are you ok?" I ask.

She's watching the others, and I don't even think she saw me approaching, judging by the slight start she gives as she turns to face me.

"Y... yes. I'm fine."

"You're worried, though."

"Yes. The message... it was designed not to alarm me unnecessarily, but that just worries me more. Whatever they're expecting, it'll be bad."

"If I can help..."

She puts a hand on my shoulder. "I know. But right now, they're your priority. If that baby doesn't survive to become the teenager who saves us all..."

"You're right, of course. But the offer still stands. If I can help without jeopardising anything here, then I will."

"Thank you."

Her eyes drift back to the others, and I follow her gaze.

"Did you want to say 'goodbye'?" I ask.

"It's probably better if I just go," she answers. "I'm going to miss you all."

"As we'll miss you."

She holds out her arms to me, and I hug her, feeling her fear like something physical. We separate, and she takes a few steps away from me before closing her eyes. A moment later, she's gone.

As I turn back to the assembled group, Buffy's looking at me, waiting for me to approach. Zara is in Willow's arms, and Xander's making strange noises at the poor child. Neither of them has noticed that Jenna's gone, and well, perhaps Buffy didn't even realise she was here.

Spike's standing just behind Buffy, an arm around her possessively, but I approach anyway. Whatever they share shouldn't change how I feel about Buffy, and I'm determined not to let anything happen in that direction.

"Welcome back, Buffy," I say, my voice surprisingly even. The sight of her is almost enough to put a lump in my throat.

"Giles!" she says, jumping forward to hug me. Just as I'm about to point out that she's in danger of cracking a few of my ribs, I hear Spike's voice.

"Easy there, Buffy. Watcher's only human."

She lets go of me, flashing me an apologetic grin.

"Don't worry," I tell her. "A welcome from you wouldn't be complete without a bruise or two. You look well."

"I am," she agrees. "But... maybe we should go inside."

"Of course, I agree.

Buffy turns to check on her daughter, but it seems Willow was following the conversation as she's moving towards the door already.

I notice that Buffy almost tries to take Zara back before Willow reaches the steps, but holds back. She notices me noticing, and smiles back. Oddly, I get the impression that it's similar to all those times I had to send Buffy out to battle ridiculous odds when my conscience was telling me to leave her at home and do it myself. It's easy to be overprotective of those we love.

Once inside, the priority becomes a question of Buffy getting Zara settled. She and Spike go upstairs to find what they need, returning some time later with the listening half of a baby alarm in hand.

"Looks like the first priority will be a trip to the mall," she comments, flopping onto a sofa and pulling Spike down after her. "She's grown out of pretty much everything I bought before she was born. There's just a couple of things that still fit – remember that day I got really depressed about my size and decided she was going to be super-sized too? Well, the two onesies I bought that day still fit. Just. Providing I only do up one of the poppers."

"So," she goes on, looking around us all. "What's been happening here?"