The next morning, everyone was rudely awakened by Anya’s arrival, her arms full of empty books. Or rather, to be precise, they were rudely awakened by her dropping them all unceremoniously on the floor as soon as she got inside the house. After going to the Magic Box, she’d taken them all back to her apartment, since it was closer, and then struggled all the way back to Revello Drive with them. After half an hour, they’d started to get heavy. Five minutes after that, she could no longer feel her fingers, and so it was with some relief that she deposited the entire lot on the floor of the Summers residence.

Declaring sleep a complete write-off, Giles had gotten up and helped her move them all into the dining room, then set about sorting them into some kind of order. It probably didn’t matter, but it did, at least, give him something to think about other than Buffy’s confession. He’d told her he wasn’t disappointed in her, which was true, but it didn’t stop him worrying immensely that she’d made the wrong decision. Spike may have proven himself more than once, but he was still a vampire, soul or no soul, and he could still hurt her in more ways than one.

Upstairs, Buffy groaned and rolled over, attempting to muster enough energy to get up. It was only the clattering sound of her sister moving downstairs that forced her to stumble out of bed. She opened the window in an attempt to get some fresh air circulating. After the rain, the air was humid, and smelt of newly soaked grass.

Fifteen minutes later, the Slayer finally struggled downstairs and headed straight in the direction of coffee, as everyone else eventually joined her. Xander was one of the first to come down, his arm still in the sling despite the fact he was using it. When she questioned him, he calmly informed her that it hadn’t been twenty-four hours yet. Giles and Anya appeared briefly to greet everyone before heading back to the dining room; the former said nothing about the previous night, to Buffy’s relief.

Willow was the last to emerge. She came into the kitchen slowly, deliberately, as if watching her every move, and kept her gaze fixed firmly on the floor, watching her feet. Considering her latest spurt towards recovery, this surprised them; she resembled how she’d been a few weeks back during her worst low. Buffy and Xander watched her for several seconds until she’d sat down.

“Will?” asked Buffy. “You okay?”

The Wiccan nodded, her red hair bouncing in front of her drooped head. “’M fine…” she muttered.

“You sure?” That was Xander. “Cos not really likin’ the whole relapse thing.”

“Seriously, guys… fine…” She still hadn’t lifted her head.

“Willow, look at me,” said Buffy, pointedly. When her friend didn’t comply, she physically lifted her chin with one hand from across the island. Reluctantly, Willow met her gaze, and Buffy instantly dropped her chin and drew back when she saw her eyes. They were almost completely clouded over with blackness, like they’d been when she was under the influence of the Dark Magic, only with flickers of Willow’s true eye colour occasionally seeping through. For all other outward appearances, though, she seemed perfectly fine. Smiling amicably, she tried to reassure her friends that she was perfectly all right.

“See? Fine…”

“Fine?” Buffy was incredulous. “You call that fine?”

“Settle down, Buffster…” said Xander, starting to understand. He’d been around Willow long enough to know more or less what was going on. “Willow, just explain…”

“Oh. Right.” She’d apparently assumed they’d know what was happening. Her explanation was clipped and precise, under control. “Magic’s gotta be purged. Had to bring it to the surface. Got it in hand.”

Buffy nodded in relief, still slightly worried, but not mentioning it for the time being. Willow seemed to be completely in control of the Magic, for once, the only evidence it was there at all being her eyes and her short sentences, a result of her mind’s priority to stay alert. She kept telling herself that, if all went as planned, Willow would be rid of it by this time tomorrow.

The day wore on slowly and uneventfully, save for a recap on the plan. Buffy found herself constantly waiting for Spike to appear, despite the daylight, and simultaneously on edge in case he did. Her latest priority, on a personal level, at least, was to tell him how she felt, especially after their conversation the night before… but at the same time, she was utterly terrified. She didn’t know how to tell him without it sounding patronising, as though she was only doing it to humour him. Since his return, and her own horrible mistakes in his presence, he’d reached a stage where he didn’t trust anything she said to him. All he wanted was a simple ‘I love you’… but she just didn’t know if it would sound convincing.

The day seemed to drag on as sunset approached, and her thoughts had continued in much the same manner all day. She spent a good few hours of it training in the basement, where the cot was still set up from the night before (albeit shoved at the far wall, presumably by Spike, and lying at an odd angle), venting all her frustration and fraught emotions into a punching bag. By five o’ clock, however, she’d resorted to pacing irritably around the lounge, to the mild amusement of her friends.

Eventually, a little while before sunset, she heard the unmistakable sound of a large car approaching. She ran to the window, possibly a little too excitedly, and saw what she’d been desperate to see all day - Spike’s blacked out de Soto puttering to a halt outside the house. She muttered a brief “That’ll be Spike…” and opened the door, standing on the threshold waiting for him.

The door of the de Soto opened to reveal the darkened interior, and then a pair of legs emerged, followed by a blanket-concealed body. Spike slammed the door and ran towards the house, head covered. As such, he didn’t notice her until he was about to knock and practically on top of her. He stopped, only vaguely aware of the heat now spreading through his blanket, and there was a sudden awkwardness. Then they both remembered the sunlight and she stood aside; he ran in, smoking slightly.

Buffy closed the door after him and stayed where she was, leaning against it. Spike dropped the blanket in a heap on the floor and attempted to look nonchalant. “Evening, all.” Everyone nodded in greeting and returned to what they were doing. He turned to Buffy to see her looking at him thoughtfully. He’d decided not to mention their conversation if he could help it, and change the subject if she tried to. She knew where he stood on the matter. Despite the fact that he still felt awful, he tried to be his usual, cocky self. “I’m starving. Got any blood?” She didn’t reply at first, just stared into space. “Buffy.”

“Wha-?” She focussed on him suddenly. “Oh. Yeah. Kitchen.”

“Right.” He headed off in the direction of the refrigerator. Two seconds later, she followed him.

“Spike?” She found him rooting through the contents of the fridge ponderously.

“You sure there’s blood in here?”

“Yeah,” she muttered, absently, “it’s at the back, behind the mayo.”

He moved the jar. “Got it.” Pulling out a bag, he sought out a mug and the microwave. As he emptied the contents into the mug, Buffy said:

“Spike, I need to talk to you.”

The mug went into the microwave. “What, you didn’t talk enough last night?” He instantly regretted that, and punched a few buttons on the front to distract himself, setting the machine going.

“Yes. No… Um-“

Then, Dawn broke the moment by entering the kitchen. “Hey, Spike.”

“Nibblet.” He nodded once. “What can I do you for?”

“Anya’s moving the books to the car, and we need the keys.”

He took them out of his pocket and threw them across the kitchen at her. “There you go.”

“Thanks,” she said, turning on her heel and bouncing back to the lounge. Just as Buffy was about to speak again, the microwave beeped. Spike removed the mug, took an experimental sip, and walked straight past her to the lounge. She sighed, shook her head at her complete uselessness, and joined everyone else.

Two hours later, as darkness began to fall, the entire Scooby gang filed out into Spike’s de Soto. The books and various weapons had all been piled into the back and were taking up half of the back seat. The trunk would have been more sensible, but they couldn’t get it open. Anya had positioned herself next to them after putting the last one in, and Giles squeezed in next to her. Everyone else managed to squash in; it had been a tighter squeeze than Buffy had anticipated. She was in the front with Spike, giving directions to where she’d last seen the Magic - on the outskirts of town.

They got there after half an hour and only one wrong turn, to the accompaniment of Spike complaining about Slayers and their complete lack of directional sense. The two were behaving amicably, so much so that everyone, save Giles, had forgotten about the atmosphere between them the previous night. The reason for Buffy’s complete inability to navigate was that she was still working out how to tell Spike how she felt. If she whispered it, right that second, so quietly that only he could hear her, would he believe it? She doubted it, and he’d probably end up crashing the car with the shock. Making the conscious decision to tell him before the night was out, she merely let herself believe it would all be fine between them once she had. She couldn’t deal with the consequences if it wasn’t…

Suddenly, Willow broke through her thoughts. “Getting close. Feel it.”

Looking - or rather, peering - through the grubby window, Buffy nodded. “Yeah, this is pretty close to where I found it. Stop the car, Spike.” He complied, pulling to a halt.

Slowly, everyone filed out of the car. For the moment, the Magic wasn’t visible, but Willow wasn’t the only one who could sense it. As Buffy had mentioned, one didn’t have to go near to be able to feel it - its energy could be detected from at least a mile away, like some malevolent presence. Giving each other supportive glances, they set off in their small army, Buffy leading the way, and Giles and Anya, laden with books, bringing up the rear.

They found the Magic, which had chosen to settle, as Bad Things tended to in Sunnydale, in an abandoned, derelict building site, one which was in a greater state of disrepair than most. Whether this was the fault of the Magic or not was difficult to tell, but the atmosphere reeked of power, and the situation was eerie and disconcerting. The Scoobies stood and took in the sight for several seconds.

So far, the Magic appeared to be asleep, for want of a better word. It had manifested itself as a sort of cloud; it was a greyish, purplish shade, and huge, lying close to the ground like a mist. Within its depths, streaks of white and red lightning occasionally crackled. As yet, it hadn’t noticed their presence. Getting straight to business, Buffy directed her friends into forming two separate groups. On one side, Anya and Giles set out the collection of books in front of them, all opened to the middle; on the other side of Buffy, Willow, Xander and Dawn stood close together, the ex-witch in the middle, preparing for her purge. She was trembling from the Magic within her as it sensed its larger whole nearby.

Buffy, with Spike close behind her, stood defiantly in the middle of the two groups. “Okay, guys. You all good to go?” She was answered by several nods from both sides. “Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

With that, she began to taunt the Magic into waking up, and, when that didn’t work, she invited Spike to help her throw small rocks at its mass. This worked, and they succeeded in annoying it into alertness. A low, slow growling sound filled the air, and the mist-like mass began to rise, swirling itself into a vaguely circular shape. It hovered menacingly, as if pondering its next move.

Although she hated to admit it, Buffy was scared. She had no idea precisely what she was dealing with, and didn’t know what to expect, or how to fight it, and that terrified her. If there was one thing she hated, it was feeling helpless. She muttered something to Spike about trying to keep it in one place, then moved slowly to Willow. Between them, Xander and Dawn helped the redhead to stand tall, and, with a nod from Buffy, she began to chant. Buffy stood clear, walking back over to Spike. Very slowly, the rising mist began to move closer to Willow; Xander tightened his grip on her arm, and Dawn, despite her fear, did the same. When it was close enough, Willow suddenly threw her head up, raised a clawed hand, and began to expel the Magic from her system.

The larger Magic immediately latched on and began to drain her, as sparks flew, and the lightning zapped around. The mass grew slightly bigger. As she purged, Willow began to glow slightly purple, then levitated a few inches and stayed there for several seconds. Then, suddenly, she screamed, glowing brighter. Xander resisted the urge to cover his ears and held on to her. As suddenly as it began, her screaming stopped, and she fell to the ground. She collapsed, unconscious, as Xander fell to his knees beside her and checked for a pulse. He found one and breathed a sigh of relief, casting Buffy a glance to let her know Willow was okay.

There was silence. Anya and Giles pondered exactly how they were going to get the books near enough to recapture their contents, and then, all Hell broke loose.

Suddenly, there were demons of all shapes and sizes everywhere, surrounding them. Buffy and Spike threw themselves into the fray, unconsciously venting their frustrations with each other into fighting off the demons. They killed several, and incapacitated even more, but they kept on coming, forming from the mist and attacking almost instantly.

Dawn realised there was nothing she could really do for Willow, so she left her in Xander’s capable hands and headed off to help her sister and her best friend fend off the anticipated demon army.

Giles watched, somewhat helplessly, not wanting to leave Anya on her own, and wondered if it called for him to use the incantation yet. Now that Dawn had recklessly endangered herself - although, he noted, she seemed to be doing fine - it would seem that the situation was becoming desperate. Then, suddenly, an idea hit him, and he rooted through his pockets for something. Pulling out a small book, he flicked through the well-thumbed pages, and began to read. Anya looked puzzled.

“Giles, this is no time to-“

“Sh,” he cut her off, silencing her with a wave of his hand. “Just keep an eye on them.” He returned to reading the book, his expression becoming grimmer as he did so.

It was then that Spike noticed Dawn. “Nibblet, what the Hell are you doing?” he asked, incredulous, punching a demon in the face.

“Helping, what does it look like?!” She grinned, emulating her sister as she kicked another in the stomach.

“Well, don’t!”

“Why not?”

“You’re going to get hurt.” Another, different demon went down. Buffy fought off two more as she backed towards them, irritated.

“And you two would be better off fighting this bunch of nasties instead of each other,” she said. Punch.

“Buffy, I can’t believe you’re letting her do this.” Kick. “What about all that ‘protect her’ stuff?”

“You can still protect her, Spike,” she explained, as the two of them ripped the head off another adversary. “But if she doesn’t learn to protect herself, she’s not going to get very far in life.” Spike had to agree with her on that one, and Dawn beamed at her sister’s confidence in her, leaping onto the back of a particularly large demon, distracting it enough that Spike could kill it. “Now, shut up, both of you. You’re wasting energy.”

With that, she headed back towards the mass of Magic, fighting off the larger demons before they’d had a chance to work out their surroundings. Their battle continued in much the same manner for quite a while, and then, just as suddenly as they’d appeared, the demons vanished, and silence descended once more.

Buffy looked around somewhat suspiciously as she rejoined Spike and her sister. “Why do I get the feeling that isn’t gonna be it?” she asked, rhetorically. Just as Spike was about to retort, a breeze picked up. It started blowing stronger, turning into a gale that nearly threw them all off balance. Buffy realised it was bad news and sprang to action once more. “Anya, Giles, get those books and get out of here!” she shouted. “Xander, take Willow.”

All three of them complied, gathering their respective burdens and running back in the direction from which they’d arrived, back towards the car. Buffy, ushering Dawn and Spike ahead of her, followed, as the storm grew gradually worse and more dangerous.

When they were clear of it, beyond the boundaries of the walls it was behind, they stopped, breathless. Anya dropped the books again, irritated, and Xander placed Willow carefully on the ground, crouching by her. “What,” asked Spike, “was that?”

“I don’t know, but I didn’t want to say around and find out. Everyone okay?”

They nodded. Anya frowned. “We could have left the books there. They’re heavy, you know. And the Magic could have found its way back without us.”

“Yeah, and they could also have been destroyed,” countered Buffy. “Then we’d be worse off.” Anya conceded defeat, but didn’t look happy about it.

Spike looked at Dawn, concerned. “You all right, Bit?”

“Yeah,” she said, rubbing her arm absently. “But now what, Buffy?”

“She’s right,” said Xander. “We can’t just sit here.”

Giles intervened before she could say anything. “I may have a plan.”

“What?” prodded Buffy.

He indicated the book he’d been perusing. “This book - one I haven’t use for years, incidentally, but which is very useful nonetheless - says that the only way to get released magic back to its original source is the same way it came out…”

“So, you mean Will has to put it back, yes?”

“Ideally,” he clarified, “but as she’s temporarily incapacitated, it’ll have to be someone else. And considering her history, I wouldn’t have advised she perform the task herself, anyway.”

“So who?” asked Dawn.

“Not you,” came her answer, from everyone. Then, Giles continued:

“This magic is very powerful. If it detects even the slightest amount of magical power in the host, it’ll latch on and immediately try to take over, like it did Willow in the first place. In this instance, I think we need someone who has been the least exposed to any magic. Dawn, despite the obvious reasons, wouldn’t have been a suitable candidate; she’s been exposed to magic, and recently, what with Halfrek, and Willow, too. Xander has been around her too much to be safe - sometimes magic has a tendency to, um, leak…”

“Nice…” he muttered. “But now you come to mention it, she was attacking me with the same magic before I pulled her out of it.”

“Precisely. As for myself and Anya, we’ve performed too many spells to be immune; we’d be done for. Not only that, the potential host needs to be strong in mind and body…” He trailed off, but Buffy understood where he was leading.

“It has to be me…”

“No.” That was, unsurprisingly, Spike. “It doesn’t always have to be you.” To Giles, he added, “What about me, could I do this?”

“In theory… although I’m sure you’ve done your fair share of spells, or Drusilla did.” Buffy frowned at the mention of Drusilla, wondering briefly if this was the same reaction Spike got when she mentioned Angel. “Even if it was years ago, there’s always the issue of those trials you went through… and whatever magic the shaman used to give you the soul…”

“I see your point, Watcher-boy,” he said, “but here’s another one. Buffy was fightin’ Willow, too, wasn’t she? She’s been exposed to this before.”

Giles thought about it. “That’s true, Spike, yes. But with her Slayer abilities, the residual effects wouldn’t have stayed around very long. Her immune system can combat practically anything, including attacks caused by magic.”

“Gotta love those Slayer powers,” she muttered.

Spike turned back to her. “You are not going out there, Buffy.” Realising what he was suggesting, Dawn clung to him in an attempt to make him change his mind. “It’s my turn.”

Buffy looked at him sternly. “No way. You’re not even fully healed yet.” Before he could argue the matter further, she walked away from him, taking Giles aside. “It really does have to be me, doesn’t it?” she asked, quietly. He nodded. “I’m strong enough, and my mind is clear… well, as clear as it’ll ever be…” Giles looked fraught, unwilling to let her do this, but knowing she had to. “What do I have to do?”

“There’s a chant,” he explained, “something I can say that makes the magic choose a host. It’ll start to glow red; when it does, just… just hold up your hand like Willow did earlier, and it should absorb into you that way.” He stopped and took a deep breath. “I’m not going to lie to you, Buffy. It’s going to hurt, physically and mentally. You must do everything in your control to keep it beneath your consciousness. If it takes over…” He was unable to finish the sentence, but she understood.

“Noted. So how do I get it out of me and into the books again?”

“That, I don’t know. If you think you’re able to purge it as Willow did, we can try that. If not… we’ll have to think of another way.”

She sighed. “Okay. Let’s do this.” Turning back to face her friends and sister, she addressed them. “It’s decided. I’m going in.” She was assaulted by variations on “Buffy, no!” and silenced them all with her hand. “Either I do this, or that thing takes over the whole of Sunnydale.” Everyone then had no choice but to conceded she was right, and hung their heads. Such is the lot of a Slayer, she thought. Gotta hurt people to save ‘em. “Xander?”

“Yeah?”

“Put Willow in the car and stay with her, okay? There’s not much more you can do.”

He nodded, complying. In the distance, the sounds of the storm had dwindled to nothing, making it safe to re-approach the Magic for the final round. Without having to be asked again, Anya picked up a few of the books, as did Giles, and looked ready, smiling weakly, but supportively. “Buffy, if anyone can do this, I believe you can,” she said. “We all have faith in you.”

“Thanks, Anya…” Buffy turned to Xander as he stepped out of the car, having lain Willow inside. She couldn’t find enough words to say to him, after the past few days they’d had. Instead, she hugged him awkwardly. “I’ll be careful. I promise.” Xander squeezed her, the potential danger of the situation finally sinking in. “Look after Will for me. Tell her what’s going on when she wakes up.” She felt him nod, then let him go. After a pause, she sought out Giles and hugged him, too.

The ex-Watcher held her tentatively, and quietly said, “Tell him…”

“I will…” she said. Determined, she started to head back to the site of the Magic. Spike and Dawn followed, equally determined, the former looking a combination of annoyed with Buffy’s penchant for death wishes, and proud of her bravery. Giles followed, his arms full of books and his expression grim. Anya was the last to leave, gathering her armful into a more comfortable position.

Suddenly, Xander touched her arm. When she turned to question him, he surprised her by planting a quick kiss on her lips. “Be careful,” he said, then disappeared into the de Soto. She smiled, bewildered, then set off after the others.

Ten minutes later, everything had been set up again. The Magic, although not asleep, seemed to be momentarily dormant, occasionally crackling. Giles thumbed through his little book to find the incantation he’d need, while Buffy spoke to Dawn.

The brunette was part-anxious, and part-irritated. “Why is it always you, Buffy?”

“Because I’m the Slayer. Comes with the package.”

“It’s not fair…” she said. “I’m going to lose you again, aren’t I?” Her eyes filled with tears at the thought.

“No, Dawnie…” Her sister sniffed. “Listen. This stuff didn’t kill Willow, did it?”

“I guess not…”

“Well, then, it won’t kill me, either. I’m coming back, Dawn. Honestly.” Stroking her sister’s hair, she added, semi-comically, “Then we can all go for pizza, okay?”

Dawn hugged her tight. “I’m gonna hold you to that, Buff.”

Buffy hugged her back, and then they released each other. She looked for Spike. He was a few feet away, giving them some privacy, kicking absently at a stone on the ground. She approached him cautiously. She had to tell him. “Spike…”

He looked at her. His attempt to be aloof didn’t last very long, as the possibility of losing her again struck home. “Well. Here we are again.” Off her puzzled look, he explained, “You runnin’ off to save the world, and me stuck in one without you.”

“You know I have to do this.”

“Yeah.” He jammed both hands in his pockets. “Doesn’t mean I have to like the idea.”

“It’s not a suicide mission this time, Spike.”

“Maybe not,” he said, “but it could be, if it all goes horribly wrong. Buffy, do you even know what you’re doing?”

She shrugged. “Not really…”

“You don’t even care, do you?”

“I thought we went through the whole me-caring thing yesterday…”

“You know what I mean.” They’d learnt the hard way that arguing didn’t solve anything, so Spike stopped his tirade and sighed. “All right, I’ll make you a deal. You asked me to be careful, and look: I’m still here, undead and relatively intact.” Buffy nodded. “I’m asking you the same thing - be careful, love.”

“I guess that’s fair,” she said.

Spike retrieved his hands from his pockets and rested them lightly on her shoulders. “I’ve lived in a world without you once and that was enough,” he told her. He was wearing his ‘I-love-you-more-than-I-can-say’ expression, one she’d previously dreaded seeing, which now was all the more reason for her to succeed in what she was going to do. “I can’t go through that again. If you’re goin’ out there, I want a guarantee you’re coming back.”

She felt tears starting to well up. “And if I don’t?”

“I’ll do what I always do. Look after the Bit, and everyone else.”

Buffy doubted very much he’d manage that if he lost her again. She reached up to touch his cheek. “In that case, you’ve got your guarantee. Someone needs to look after you…” Spike smiled, wondering why he’d ever doubted her. He promised himself he’d take back the ultimatum as soon as this was over… assuming she did, in fact, stay alive long enough to appreciate the gesture.

He leaned forwards and kissed her surprisingly gently, and she melted, wrapping her arms around him. They fell into each other’s embrace. Spike closed his eyes and pretended they were somewhere else - anywhere else - holding her closer. He knew he had to let her go, that if he didn’t, they’d all be dead anyway… but as long as Buffy was in his arms, she was alive, and not threatening her own life again, for however long they had left before the Magic got annoyed again. He couldn’t let go. He’d told her once that he was drowning in her, and he still was, falling deeper and deeper into the murk the longer he stood there because he couldn’t swim, and then, just before he hit the bottom, she whispered something in his ear and pulled away, and her warmth disappeared, and left him cold and stunned on dry land.

His eyes shot open as he searched for her. She was some distance away, running towards the purple-grey mist, indicating to Giles to start the incantation. He snapped himself out of his dazed stupor and lurched forwards. “Buffy! No!”

Dawn stopped him running to her by gently grasping his arm and holding him back. “Don’t,” she said. “You’ll interrupt the spell…” They both watched, dumbly, as the mist started fluctuating, changing colour as it started turning red, very slowly. Buffy stood proudly in front of it, waiting.

All Spike could do was stand there and watch, unable to move, with her last words to him echoing through his mind:

Even if Dawn hadn’t stopped him from running in pursuit of Buffy, Spike doubted he would have gotten very far. As it was, he was having trouble even standing up. He was in alternating states of euphoria, sheer panic, and anger, and could do nothing except watch as Buffy waited for the cloud to turn red. Her final words were still bouncing through his mind, repeating until they seemed meaningless. Did she really just say that? he thought. Maybe his brain was playing tricks on him.

Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe she’d only said it because it was what he wanted to hear. No. Buffy wouldn’t do that. Which meant she’d said it because she wanted him to know… because she knew the situation was worse than she and Giles were letting on. And he knew he couldn’t help now, because ‘helping’ would make it all worse and probably get them all killed.

He looked across to see Giles performing the incantation, reading it carefully from the small book he’d shown them. Briefly, the older man flicked his gaze to Spike, nodded knowingly, and returned his eyes to the book. If Giles knew, he figured, then Buffy must have been telling the truth - and with her Watcher’s blessing, no less - and he was completely helpless. Why now? he asked himself. Why couldn’t she have bloody waited? Or realised sooner… He couldn’t help but wonder if he’d inadvertently pushed her into this. He’d given her an ultimatum, but he’d never anticipated it would come to a result so soon.

Spike was no longer drowning. Instead, he was simply falling, helpless, into a world that was potentially without Buffy, and this time, she loved him back. Then, as the mist finally turned a shade of greyish red and stopped fluctuating, he hit the ground with a thud, and snapped himself out of it. No matter what happened, he’d be no use to anyone if he was catatonic. He shook his head to clear it, and looked over at Giles and Anya again.

The two of them were struggling to keep ten very large, heavy books upright between them, and it seemed to be proving a very difficult task. He gave a nod to Dawn to indicate for her to follow, kept one eye on Buffy and the cloud of Magic, and went over to help them. Dawn joined him, glad of the distraction.

The ten books were more easily and safely distributed amongst the four of them, giving Giles a free hand to hold his spell book as he finished the chant. Spike’s gaze flickered between Giles, Dawn, and Buffy, and he was filled with dread as the cloud suddenly became very still in the air, a shade of murky crimson.

Buffy knew she couldn’t look back. If she did, she’d end up running to him, to reassure him that what she’d said had been the truth. Or to reassure herself, maybe… No. That could wait until a better time. She concentrated on clearing her mind of all unnecessary thought. It wasn’t the easiest task in the world. She hadn’t even seen Spike’s face at her words. Doubtless he’d have been shocked, but she had no idea how else he might have reacted.

Out of the corner of her eye, she was vaguely aware of both Spike and Dawn running over to Giles and Anya, which was far better than knowing he was standing helpless behind her. At least now he was doing something useful, too. The cloud in front of her was still changing colour, ominously slowly, and she could hear Giles’ chant behind her. After a few seconds, he stopped. Buffy took a step back, cocking her head defiantly, and breathed in to steady her nerves.

The cloud’s colouring finally settled down and it sat there, ominously, waiting for its host to make itself known. She could have sworn that it knew she was there, though, looking down on her somewhat condescendingly, as if she was too small and pathetic to be a host. We’ll show you who’s boss, she thought, then realised she was directing said thought at a cloud, shaking her head at herself.

She took a deep breath, cleared her mind of all anomalous thoughts, and got ready. Copying what she’d seen Willow do when she’d purged, Buffy raised her left hand, fingers slightly bent, and pointed it towards the Magic…

In the de Soto, Xander was sitting in the back, with Willow stretched out along the seat, her head in his lap. She still hadn’t woken up; whatever the Magic had done to her had obviously taken its toll. Xander was, once again, left watching over an incapacitated Willow, when there was nothing he could do to help her. Not that he could really help the others, either, with his arm so fragile.

Not for the first time, he realised he’d messed up, Big Time, by trying to kill Spike. The vampire was in too much of a weakened state (and yet was still stronger than himself, currently) to be of as much use as he usually would; Buffy obviously still hadn’t forgiven him completely for what he’d done; Dawn would probably never speak to him again. He’d broken Anya’s trust, and possibly Willow’s… and now he was the one she was going to see when she came round. Not that he had much choice in the matter, really. He’d just have to deal with her reaction when the time came.

Having just decided this, he felt her begin to wake up, her eyes fluttering open. She came around, staring up at him, a little disorientated for a few seconds.

“Xander…?”

He breathed a sigh of relief. “Welcome back, Will.”

“What happened? Where am I?” She sniffed, and wrinkled her nose. “Ugh, it smells of… demon goop.

He laughed. “That’d be about right… Spike’s not really a ‘pine fresh’ kinda guy.”

Her eyes adjusted to the light and she realised she was in the de Soto. Xander helped her to sit up, noting with some concern that she appeared to be shaking all over, presumably an after-effect of her ordeal. She put a hand to her head briefly, feeling a slight twinge, then lowered it again and turned to face him. She’d already started to remember what had just happened. “Did it work?”

“I… don’t know. They haven’t come back yet…” he admitted, realising she didn’t have a clue what was going on.

“What do you mean?” She looked confused.

“Uh…” he began, trying to think how to explain it without all of Giles’ magical technobabble. “Well, after you purged all that Magic, it got, um, kinda pissed… Demons, everywhere, just coming at us. Buffy and Spike got rid of them and then it started this big ol’ magical storm and we all had to evacuate. Then Giles said the only way to get it back into the books was-“

“The same way it came out?” she interrupted.

“Yeah…”

“So… how?”

He hesitated. “Buffy.”

Willow went pale. “Buffy?” Xander nodded. “But… someone should have woken me up, Xander. It’s my fault that stuff’s even out there; I should be the one putting it back.”

“Willow, you and I both know that’s a stupid idea. As Giles explained, the least magically inclined person had to do it. And that was Buffy. Believe me, none of us were too happy with it.”

She seemed to accept this, realising the logic behind the decision. ”So she’s out there right now?”

“Yup.”

“Well, we have to go, too, to help her.” That being said, she opened the side door and got out; as soon as she tried to take a step, however, she instantly collapsed again. Xander got out on his side of the car and walked around to help her up.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just still woozy…” Xander helped her to stand up straight, realising there was going to be no talking her out of helping Buffy and the others, and supported her as they made their way back to the derelict building site…

The scene that greeted them on their arrival was nothing short of dramatic, and verging on nightmarish. Giles, Anya, Spike and Dawn were still kneeling in their respective positions on the floor, holding up the books between them, looking on with varying expressions of awed horror. Looking across and following their gazes, Xander and Willow spotted Buffy and what remained of the magical cloud.

The Slayer looked to be deep in concentration as the absorption of the Dark Magic came to an end. She was obviously battling valiantly to keep her mind focussed and alert, and was standing deathly still. Xander and Willow were momentarily stunned into immobility, but the former quickly regained his senses and pulled the redhead towards their friends, so they could help with the pile of books. There was an ominous sort of whooshing in the air, and a crackling sound, and then, as the last of the Magic entered Buffy’s system, there was a small ‘pop’, and silence.

Nobody dared to breathe. Buffy hadn’t moved, and was staring at the ground.

Spike was fighting his inner struggle not to go over and help her, and, just as he was about to give in and do just that, she twitched. He was the only one who’d noticed, at first, and then, she twitched again, her entire body jerking. Suddenly, her head shot up, and the assembled Scoobies gasped in shock.

Her skin had paled noticeably, and bluish veins were visible under her flesh. Her eyes were almost black, as Willow’s had been occasionally during her recovery, with the occasional pale flicker within their depths, and her hair had turned a dark shade of brown, starting from the roots and working to the tips. The frightening transformation was completed by the ends of her fingertips glowing and shooting occasional sparks and small bolts of lightning.

Giles nudged those beside him. “Get ready,” he said, quietly. The group held the books higher and waited for Buffy to approach.

Her movements were slow and deliberate as she concentrated on getting over to her friends, each step forward precise and calculated. Finally, after what seemed like hours, Buffy was close enough. She stopped approximately two feet away from them, and then raised a hand to try and purge the magic back into the books. Everybody braced themselves for the imminent blast.

Nothing happened. Buffy’s concentrated expression was momentarily confused as to why, and then, off Giles’ encouraging look, she tried again, this time moving her hand nearer to the books. Again, nothing happened. By now, she was starting to tremble with the effort of keeping in control of her mind.

“It’s not working!” said Dawn, worried. “Why isn’t it working?”

Giles could do nothing but shrug, as he racked his brain for a solution. He didn’t want to have to use another incantation on Buffy, but it was beginning to seem like the only option. Suddenly, Willow began tugging on his sleeve excitedly.

“Ooh, I know why it won’t work! I-it’s because Buffy doesn’t know how to do magic; she, uh, she can’t control the power inside her. It’s just sitting there.”

“Of course,” he said. Buffy nodded slightly at Willow, proving she was right.

“Okay, Red,” said Spike, diplomatically, sounding a lot calmer than he felt, “can you tell her how?”

She nodded. “I… I can try…” She addressed the Slayer, attracting her attention. “Buffy.” She was now looking more the worse for wear, silently pleading for Willow to hurry up. “I know it’s difficult if you’ve never done this before, but you have to believe me - it’s possible. It’s like… mind over matter.” Buffy nodded, the movement causing her hair to crackle with energy. “Okay, just… just imagine that all the Magic is centred around your heart, that it… it’s being controlled from there, like blood.” Nod. “Then try and imagine it coursing through your veins, right down your arms and out through your fingertips.” Another nod. “You’ll know when it happens; it kinda makes your limbs go all tingly.” Willow offered a small smile in an effort to lighten the mood a little, but was rewarded by an impatient glare.

She looked away from Willow again and focussed. She knew she had to get the Magic out of her system very soon or she’d lost control entirely. Everything was starting to blur together and she was feeling incredibly light-headed. And she was tired. So tired. And then, just as she was beginning to think how wonderful sleep sounded at that moment, she heard Spike muttering to himself, apparently unheard by the others. He was telling her to try. He was telling her she could do it, that he believed in her. And beneath his words of encouragement, she detected the undercurrent of love in his tone.

She sought him out through the sea of unconsciousness that was beckoning and found him staring at her over the top of the book he was holding up. He looked scared, but, she realised, not because he thought she wouldn’t be able to do it - more because he knew she would, but was afraid of losing her in the process. She wasn’t prepared to let that happen; she’d guaranteed him that she’d come back.

After holding his gaze one second more, Buffy did as Willow explained. At first, it didn’t work in the slightest - the Magic flooded through her entire system and she couldn’t make it stop or centre in one place. Then, finally, she pictured it in her mind’s eye, as a sort of glowing ball around her heart, and once she’d managed that, it was as though she was in complete control. Her heart rate had increased to an almost impossible height, but that only made the task easier - suddenly, it felt like her arms were on fire - Tingly?? she thought, irritatedly - and then, there was a blinding flash of light and the Magic flew from her fingers, straight into the book Giles was holding.

The force with which this happened caused two things to happen - Giles was pushed backwards from the impact, landing against Xander - who was kneeling behind him - and causing him to topple over backwards, too. At the same time, Buffy was forced backwards, up into the air, where she remained suspended while the Magic found its way home. The pages of the myriad books ruffled at great speed as it ‘filed’ itself in the correct places, so much so that everyone had to struggle to hold onto them. A great wind whipped up around them, taking up dust and debris to such an extent that everyone had to cover their eyes.

Several seconds later, there was silence, and the wind dropped once more. It took a lot longer for the dust to settle, however, and there was a sort of fog covering the immediate surroundings. Anya was the first to open her eyes, looking down at the large book in her hands. She immediately slammed it closed.

“Everyone! It worked! The books are all full!”

Slowly, everyone else opened their eyes to check, and, sure enough, each of the books was back to its previous state. Willow closed hers hastily and put it to one side, encouraging the others to do the same. They formed two neat piles on the floor of closed books, and began to stand up, brushing themselves off.

“Hey, uh, guys…” said Dawn. “Where’s-“

“Buffy…” interrupted Spike, suddenly breaking into a run into the dust. The Scoobies looked after him, peering into the murk, and were just able to make out his leather-clad form crouching near the floor. Exchanging concerned glances, they followed him.

The Slayer had dropped from the air and landed heavily on the floor, in a position that exactly resembled how she’d landed after her fall from the tower. Her body still crackled slightly from the energy she’d had claim over, but her skin and hair colour had returned to normal. She was unconscious, but breathing.

Spike reached out a hand to touch her and then recoiled with a curse as he got shocked.

“Careful, Spike,” warned Giles, slightly too late. “There’s still magic in her system, though less malevolent - that of the coven. If you touch her, it’ll be like touching a very mild electric fence.”

“I noticed…” he muttered. “This dust probably isn’t helping matters. We have to get her back to the house.” So saying, he took off his duster and wrapped her in it, then scooped her into his arms and headed dutifully towards the de Soto. Even if it didn’t help, he figured that having shocks down his arms would make a change from shocks in his brain. Everyone followed him in silence, not entirely sure what to say, gathering the now-full books and re-piling them and themselves into the back of the car, while Spike carefully laid Buffy in the passenger seat.

In silence, he drove them back to Revello Drive…

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