Chapter Twenty-Five

Several thousand feet up, Giles was multi-tasking. On the pull-down table/tray in front of him lay a small pad of paper, a half-drunk paper cup of coffee, a pen, and several screwed up balls of paper with various scribblings on them. And on the top of the pad, a half-crossed out correspondence marked his increasing frustration with his complete inability to find the right words to say everything he wanted. After seventeen attempts, he was beginning to think it wasn’t such a good idea after all. While he was trying to think what to say, once more, he was also keeping one eye on the sleeping Slayer in the seat next to him, in case she stirred and he needed to re-inject her with the sleeping drug they’d used. (They’d had to pretend, and insist, quite vehemently, that she was incredibly phobic of flying, and that the hypodermic was, indeed, a necessity if she wasn’t to have a panic attack mid-flight. With a little help from Buffy herself, who had been very convincingly terrified at the mere sight of the planes outside, they’d gotten away with it.) For the moment, however, she seemed to be deeply asleep, still.

He tore off the top piece of paper again and screwed it up, then, realising his writing surface was becoming crowded, he gestured for one of the wandering stewardesses and politely asked if she would mind bringing over something he could use as a bin bag. She obliged with a nod and made her way down to the staff area at the front of the plane. Giles pushed the pile of paper balls towards the edge of the table, took another drink of his rapidly congealing coffee, and tapped the pen irritably on the pad for a few seconds.

He wrote what he’d written myriad times before already - “Dear all…” - and then chewed on the end of the pen, thoughtfully. The stewardess came back with a plastic carrier bag emblazoned with the airline’s logo. Just as she was about to scrape all the paper balls into it, he was struck with a thought, and hastily unscrewed them, searching for one specific draft. When he’d found it, he tipped the others into the bag and thanked her, smoothing it out.

This was getting ridiculous. They were four hours into an eleven-hour flight, and, much as he wanted to sleep, he couldn’t. He put the pen down and stared at his “Dear all…” until the words started to blur, then hastily removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

Buffy shifted slightly, curling her feet further under her in the seat, and causing Spike’s duster - currently serving as a blanket despite the fact that the airline issue ones were perfectly adequate - to fall to the floor. Glad of the distraction for the moment, he retrieved it and laid it back over her. For some reason, she’d insisted on having the window seat, for all the good it would do her. She hadn’t even fallen asleep facing the window; rather, she was facing him.

He smiled down at her, reaching over to smooth a stray hair away from her face. He got shocked, as expected, but only slightly, like static. It didn’t bother him, and, once one got used to it, it wasn’t too bad. Lightly, he traced her jaw-line with his knuckle before removing his hand entirely. It was finally sinking in that, once the coven completed their spell to recall the magic, he probably wouldn’t see her again for a very long time. Leaving the others got easier, each time, just as he was sure his departure got easier on them, too. If he could just get the damned note written, to explain, it would help them understand, and save Buffy the pain of having to tell them his reasoning.

Exponentially, the easier it got with them, the more impossibly, heart-wrenchingly difficult it got with Buffy. He was dreading the moment he’d have to tell her. He could picture it now - her look of pained curiosity, the confused frown, her changing expressions as she tried to decide between anger, disappointment, hurt, and nonchalant disinterest, before finally settling somewhere in the region of shocked annoyance. And that would be just before the tears came. His chest constricted even now to think about it.

The passengers on the plane assumed they were father and daughter, or perhaps uncle and niece. There’d been suspicious glances at check-in at the differing surnames on the tickets, but everybody was too politely professional to question it. Sometimes, Giles did wonder what people thought of them, but never for any long period of time. After all, what did it matter?

They hadn’t been Slayer and Watcher for a very long time. They’d even gone beyond the substitute father/daughter bond that had developed over the years. As for what they’d become? He had no idea, and he doubted Buffy did, either. A little of everything, he suspected. The sacred duty remained, and the bond that came with it, never to be broken even by the Council’s rash decisions; the respect (well, most of the time, when she wasn’t being so damnably stubborn and headstrong) was the same as ever; they were friends, as they always had been. He was still the “grown-up friend”, as Willow had once put it, the one with all the answers.

And above and beyond it all, damning himself all the while for feeling it, he loved her. Not like Spike did, not like the Scoobies did, but in his own way, that he doubted he could ever explain even if he wanted to. He loved her, over-protectively, like a parent; he loved her, for all her faults and weaknesses, as a friend who knew her; he loved her, for her strength and spirit, like a Watcher who’d strayed from the sacred path of platonic respect. He’d loved her, even when she was Angel’s to love; he would love her still, even when she was Spike’s (although he doubted she ever would be, and that they would be each other’s. The day she admitted that she belonged to Spike would be the day she finally gave up completely.) He loved her now, as she lay asleep in the seat of an aeroplane, with her head edging ever closer to his shoulder, because, even in her sleep, she knew he wouldn’t mind…

…and he wasn’t going to tell her. If he did, it would likely blow her entire universe completely out of proportion. He knew she loved him - she’d told him so, once, to reassure herself - and he had a feeling she knew he did, too… but she could never know the truth. She’d spent two years dealing with Spike’s feelings in one way or another, and he didn’t want to add himself to her mixed emotions. That wouldn’t be the right thing to do, not when she had her own life to sort out with the blond vampire, who, it was obvious, was determined to make her happy. She’d only just figured out her own feelings about him. No. Knowing that Giles adored her more than life itself wouldn’t help matters in the slightest.

He tore his gaze from the Slayer and sighed a heavy, determined-to-focus-on-something-else sigh. The only other thing in his immediate line of vision was the two heavily scrawled words at the top of his pad. “Dear all…” Suddenly, that didn’t seem right, either, and he drew a single, straight line through it, and began anew.

“Dear friends…”

Sunnydale…

The Scoobies and Spike were huddled around the dining room table, Willow at the head of it taking notes. Or, at least, she was trying to, over the thrum of voices all around her as the rest of them debated. She was beginning to wish she could perform a little silencing spell, until she remembered she couldn’t do anything, and then, she realised that her magic was what had caused the whole mess in the first place. Maybe being without it would be a good thing after all. It wasn’t as if she couldn’t learn to live without it.

The banter was friendly, but somewhat forced. All of them were arguing, and although it was supposed to be friendly debating, it obviously had an air of tension that felt like it was going to snap at any moment. Without Buffy or Giles around, everyone was clearly trying too hard to get along, especially, it seemed, in the case of Anya. And Spike had promised himself he was going to get along with everyone. He had no problems with Dawn - she’d forgiven him, and, after their talk, was seeming much less overprotective - nor with Willow since their little heart-to-heart. But there was still some negative air between himself and Xander, which, no matter how politely they spoke to each other, was going to take a while to get over. He was also overdue on a healthy talk with Anya, to clear the air about their mistaken night of passion in the Magic Box, and he was partially glad the place wasn’t rebuilt yet, so as not to stir up memories.

As it was, that possibility was seeming a long way off, as he was currently involved in a completely pointless and loud argument with the entire table of Scoobies. Finally, as the noise got too much, Willow banged on the table. “Stop!!” The noise ceased, and everyone looked at her with various questioning expressions. “That’s better. Now. What was the decision?”

Xander spoke up. “Well, I have to stay here tonight, at least. Gotta fix the couch and the coffee table. And I say Spike should stay here and help me.”

“Don’t be an idiot, Harris,” he said, although the words didn’t hold as much venom as they used to. “I need to patrol every night. Willow’s still recoverin’, Anya can’t handle everything on her own, and Dawn’s… well, Dawn.” The accused glared at him. He gave her a smirk and a quick wink, just to prove he was kidding, but she still didn’t look very impressed.

“I know that. But you helped cause this mess.”

“Last time I checked it was your head print on the sofa cushions.”

“All right, guys, enough,” said Willow. “I know this is going to be difficult without Buffy orGiles, but… look, we have to figure something out, okay?” She stared at her paper, upon which was a timetable was neatly drawn, covering a span of three weeks. They’d worked out that was probably the longest Buffy was going to be gone. “Xander, how long will it take to fix the couch and the table?”

He thought about it, casting a brief glance to the lounge. “Two nights, probably-”

“Okay. You sort that.”

“Two nights, with help, Will. It’s a big job.”

“Fine. But not Spike. We need him for patrol.”

Xander sighed irritatedly. “Fine… I guess I can get someone from work to help me out.”

“Good,” said Willow, nodding. She was beginning to like being the boss again. “That just leaves the rest of us. We’ll pair off and take alternate nights. Spike, you and Anya can go tonight, and me and Dawn’ll go tomorrow.”

Spike seemed rather worried about that. “Why Anya?” She frowned at him. “No offence, demon-girl, but…” He floundered for a moment, then looked somewhat helplessly at Willow and gestured to Xander with his head, who was jotting down measurements on a piece of paper in preparation for his repairs. The red head understood his connotations, luckily, and quickly explained.

“Because we’re not only Slayer and Giles-less, but also decidedly magic-less. We’re going to have to actually fight the nasties out there, not just whoop their asses with confusion spells.”

“So?”

“So you’re a fighter. So’s Dawn. So I take Dawn, and you take Anya, and then at least she and I won’t end up getting dead.”

Anya, who had been considerably quiet throughout, finally spoke up. “Willow makes a valid point.” Then, possibly too nonchalanty, she turned to Spike and added, “I promise not to have sex with you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Thanks… I think…”

Dawn wrinkled her nose. “Okay, bad mental images here…” Shaking off the image with a shudder, she continued. “But, ooh, I have a question.”

“Yes, Dawnie?”

“Who does Xander get to work with when he’s finished fixin’ stuff?”

Willow thought about it for a moment, and came up completely stumped. Until Spike suddenly had the same idea as Dawn, simultaneously, and they both said, “Clem, of course!”

Xander looked up from his paper. “What? Clem? What?”

Willow wrote it down on her rota in the slot for the third day’s patrolling, muttering as she did so. “Third… night… Xander… and… C-l-e-m.” She nodded and recapped the pen. “Great, so we’re sorted.”

“If I’m working with Clem, that makes me the fighter, doesn’t it?” he asked, sceptically. Everyone nodded. “Don’t know if you’ve all noticed, but I have a tendency to lose and/or be rendered unconscious on a semi-regular basis.”

Anya shrugged. “That was before. You managed to win the fight with Spike.”

“Hey!” That was the vampire.

“Sorry, but it’s true.”

“Only because he surprised me…” he muttered.

Willow intervened once more. “Enough with the righteous indignation, Spike! Anya, stop it. You two have to patrol together, so just learn to get along, okay?”

Anya sulked, as did Spike, and Dawn was beginning to think maybe working with Willow wouldn’t be so bad after all. Xander conceded defeat. Patrolling with Clem probably might not be that horrendous. At least he could hold a conversation. Attempting to lighten the atmosphere again, he said, “Gee, Will. Maybe we should throw you another ‘Boss of Us’ party.”

“Oh! That’s it!” she suddenly shouted, pulling out another piece of paper from underneath her patrolling rota. “Party!” Off the collection of “huh?” gazes staring back at her, she elaborated: “For Buffy and Giles, for when they’re back. I thought we could surprise them.”

“Oh, great idea, Willow!” said Dawn. “We can give her a huggy ambush.” She grinned widely, already planning on where to stand for this idea.

“That’s really sweet, Will. She’ll love it.”

So, she had both Xander’s and Dawn’s vehement votes of confidence on the matter, and a brief nod from Anya, but nothing from the vampire. “What about you, Spike? Don’t you wanna surprise Buffy, too?”

“Uh… no, count me out, Red. I think I’ve surprised her enough already these past few weeks, don’t you?”

“Ah… I guess so. But… you’ll still be here, right?”

“Of course. I’m not missing her coming back for anything.”

“Great. Well… it’s nearly dark, so you and Anya’d better get going. Dawn and I’ll start planning for this party. Xander, you wanna call your buddy?”

Rolling their eyes in a mutual gesture of despair at Willow’s bossiness, everyone headed off in their respective directions, Xander to the telephone, and Spike and Anya towards the front door. Willow and Dawn went into the kitchen to get some snacks for their party preparation. It was going to be a very long few days - or weeks - until Buffy and Giles came back…

Cemetery, one hour later…

One blond vampire and one slightly less blonde vengeance demon were ambling between the headstones, the latter tossing her stake like a baton to ease the tedium, and the former feeling very vulnerable and non-Big-Bad without his favourite coat. Or, in fact, without his only coat. He wanted to put his hands in his pockets, and couldn’t, so ended up fidgeting; he wanted to have a cigarette, but they were halfway to England by now because he’d forgotten to retrieve them from the duster before he gave it to Buffy; moreover, although he wasn’t entirely averse to Anya’s presence, he would much rather have been wandering through the cemetery with his Slayer, or even her sister.

However, now that Anya was here, and it was obviously going to be a quiet night - clearly, the vamps were all still nervous after the various encounters with the magic - he could have the talk he’d been intending to have with her. In a sense, they were equals and opposites at once. They were both trying to sort out relationships, and they’d both changed considerably in the process, only she’d gained her demon-ness, and he’d gained a soul. They’d barely spoken two words to each other since his return, purely to make life easier, but if he was going to try and be one of the Scoobies, he supposed he ought to clear the air with her. Considering the last time they’d talked hadn’t ended precisely how he’d anticipated, it was proving tricky to even start the conversation without the presence of copious alcohol. Luckily, an opportunity arose when she tossed the stake in the air far too high, and dropped it.

She stooped to retrieve it, and then he said, with an impatient sigh, “Either catch it every time, or don’t bloody do it at all. Just because I’ve got a soul doesn’t mean I’m immune to accidentally flung stakes, you know.”

She looked a little sheepish. “Sorry…” She put the stake into her coat pocket, making Spike feel even less be-dustered than before. “I’m just so gosh darn bored!” She was clearly putting on an overly cheerful front, but something was bothering her and even Spike could tell.

He cleared his throat. Might as well just go for it, he thought. “Is… um… is something wrong?”

“No. Nothing’s wrong. Why should something be wrong?”

“Let’s see. Repetitive over-exaggeration of nothing being wrong. I’d say there’s something wrong…”

“All right. Fine.” She stopped where she was. “I suppose I can tell you. But only if you’ll tell me what the heck is going on with you and Buffy. One minute you’re up, the next you’re down… it’s enough to drive a girl insane.”

He laughed. “I’ll try my best, but I’m not entirely sure myself…” He perched on a headstone, wished for a cigarette for the second time in as many minutes, and gestured for her to sit as well. Anya inspected it for grime and then leaned against it, making herself as comfortable as it was possible to. After a moment’s silent thought, she started.

“It’s just… this… this thing with me and Xander… I mean… we were making progress. I’d stopped wanting his organs to rot, and he’d stopped hating me. That’s progress, right?” Spike nodded. “And… and we had this really long talk right before the big Magic thing, about forgiveness and mistakes and the fact that we still loved each other but needed to build up trust. As I understand it, conversations of that type tend to be steps in the right direction, yes?”

“I imagine so,” he said, honestly, having never had any such conversation that he could remember. He’d never needed to ‘talk’ with Dru, and doubted she was sane enough at the best of times to do so; he had an impending Conversation with Buffy, however, for which he was woefully unprepared.

Anya nodded, agreeing with him and herself, then sighed. “The last thing I asked him to do that night was to play nice where you were concerned, for Buffy’s sake. She’s been through enough this year without Xander being all vengeful against you, especially since he’d forgiven me for…” She let that trail off, but he understood. “I explained that it wasn’t just you… just so you know…”

“Thanks…”

“Anyway… he promised me he’d lay off you for a while… and then, well… he broke his promise.”

“I’ll say…” he muttered. “So is that all that’s bothering you? That the Whelp decided to have at it with me?”

“No. See, that’s what’s weird… once I’d thought it over, I found it pretty easy to forgive him. I know he’s never been on the best of terms with you, so, you know, it made some sense. Not that it was right, or anything, but…” Spike nodded understandingly to stop her rambling. “Anyway, after that, I didn’t really get much chance to talk to him, what with the running-into-battle, and all… But before we all went off the second time to help Buffy with the purging, he kissed me… and for a moment, it was like nothing had changed…”

“And now you two are all moody again. Even I could tell that much.”

“Yeah, exactly. I don’t know, I think he’s just worried about Buffy or something. Not that I’m not, you understand, but…” Frustrated, she finally got to the point. “Oh, it just seems like he’s spending all his time worrying about Buffy, or Willow, or Dawn, or how to get you out of the picture, or whether or not he even likes you now, and no time worrying about us…”

She’d apparently finished her rant. The two stared at each other from across the distance between the headstones in silence for a moment, then Spike said, “Right. Sounds fair enough. I’d offer comfort or hug you or something, but, you know, awkward…” He gestured at the air between them somewhat helplessly.

“It’s fine… It was nice to have someone actually listen to me for a change.” They both remembered where ‘someone listening’ had gotten them the last time, so she quickly moved onto a slightly safer topic. “So. I’ve held my end of the deal, now it’s your turn. What’s going on with you and Buffy?”

Spike stood, and stretched. “Mind if I tell this on the move, luv? We ought to be getting back.” She shook her head, and they resumed their leisurely walk through the cemetery. They were silent for a while, as Spike tried to collect his thoughts together. He decided to start by ascertaining exactly what Anya already knew. “Okay, just how much do you know about us?”

She thought about the facts she’d managed to garner. “I know that you were sleeping together, because you pretty much told me so, and Buffy clarified it… And I know about what nearly happened in the bathroom, before you left. And I knew about the soul before anyone did; I could tell as soon as I saw you.” She paused slightly before continuing. “I know that you love her… and I can tell that she loves you, but I think you’ve realised that…”

“Yeah… And so’s she, at last. Told me so, and everything.”

“Really? Wow… that’s a definite advantage.”

“I s’pose so.” He scratched the back of his head, nervously. He didn’t like letting his barriers down at the best of times, and especially when he didn’t have his coat to hide in. “It’s just weird, you know? Ever since I got back… Buffy came to see me, for a start… and if that wasn’t mind-bogglin’ enough, she apologised. Never thought I’d hear that in a million years, but she did. I made a right idiot of myself, too…” He wasn’t willing to expand on that particular piece of information, and hastily carried on. “Anyway, we had a chat about where I’d been and such… and I didn’t see her much after that. Although it was slightly suspect when she came over and dressed my wounds. It was almost as if she was… concerned, despite her usual, well, Slayerness.”

“Maybe she was… Your leaving hit her pretty hard, you know.”

“Maybe… Well, after that, she told me to get over to her house so she could hold a Scooby meeting, and… well, you know what happened that night. When she came back and found me skewered, it seemed to hit home, or something. I think you missed most of this, but, right before she went out to chat it out with Xander, she kissed me. Nothing special, just a peck, really… but it felt different. Like she meant it. Then, just to make it even more bloody confusing, she hugged me. Hugged me.”

“So?” asked Anya, slightly confused by the apparent importance. “Buffy hugs everyone.”

“Not me. Never me.”

“Oh, I see… What else?”

He raised a dubious eyebrow. “What makes you think there was anything else?”

“Hello? Vengeance demon. I have a relationship-radar. It tends to help when you’re looking for… clients.”

“Of course… Fine, you got me. There was something else. In her basement. She… she got all upset over something. Well, lots of things. Couldn’t really figure out which was bothering her the most, but I was being all comforting… and told her I loved her, as if that’d make all the difference. And she kissed me again. Really kissed me… and it felt exactly like the last one…” Deciding he ought to explain a little, he sighed heavily, and hoped Anya wouldn’t needle him too much for being a wimp later on. “I love that girl more than I can even try to explain, even to myself. Willow said I’d hit it on the head when I said I was willing to let her ‘be my death’… but that’s just the tip of the iceberg. We’re gonna be here all night if I try and explain any more. But anyway… before… all this…” - here, he gestured vaguely to encompass the whole of Sunnydale - “when she kissed me, it was just… just her. No feeling behind it, much as I hated to admit it. And that morning in the basement, it was… there was something there. But before I could find out what, Giles came back and she got scared and ran off… and I ripped her out for it.” He shook his head at the memory, frustrated. “I gave her a sodding ultimatum, and the silly bint agreed to it.”

“That explains the hatey vibes I was getting off you two at the meeting… but now you’re both all… I don’t know, cozy…” She looked across at him where he walked, squinting in concentration, and was a little surprised by what she sensed. “And scared…”

He smiled. “That about covers it. She didn’t know if she was coming back alive from that magical purge, and, being the Queen of Bad Timing, chose that moment to tell me how she felt… Right when I couldn’t do a thing about it. Then she went and got herself all electrified, which hasn’t helped much, but… she loves me.”

“So, you’re going to be okay?”

“Here’s hoping. We’re overdue on a long talk, though. Not lookin’ forward to that, I can tell you…”

Anya smiled supportively. “Well, good luck. If I can just sort out my relationship with Xander, everyone’ll be happy.” Apparently, she’d just remembered something else, and sighed sadly. “I just wish I knew…” She trailed off, dismissing the idea.

“Knew what?” he urged. “And be careful with those wishes, demon-girl…”

She gave a weak, vaguely amused smile, and said, “I wish I knew what was going on with him and Willow… I missed a lot before Giles dragged me back into Scoobyville, and… and those two love each other. They always have. I just can’t tell if it’s more, or if it’s just me being paranoid.”

Completely sure of himself, Spike answered, “It’s just you being paranoid…”

“What?”

“It is. Xander loves you.” He gestured where the stake had pierced his chest. “You think he’d’ve done this if he didn’t?”

“I… I suppose…”

“I know,” he said, firmly. “I may not be a vengeance demon, but I can pick up vibes, too. I think maybe bein’ around Buffy’s helped with that, or something, but I can tell that there’s still something between you two.”

Anya said nothing, but seemed very pleased by the information. They were nearly back at Revello Drive by this point, and she had one more thing to talk to Spike about, which, incidentally, turned out to be the same thing he wanted to discuss with her, too. “Um… that night… at the Magic Box. What did you come for? I barely remember most of what happened…” She hoped he wouldn’t take offence at that, but he didn’t seem to connect it to the ‘incident’.

“I came in for a spell. To make me stop loving her.” He laughed at himself. “Bloody messed that up, didn’t I?”

Anya laughed, too, lightly. “Yes, that you did…”

“I never wanted to… I mean, I wasn’t intending to… when I came in. It was-“

“A mistake,” she finished. “I know. Really, it’s all Halley’s fault. She put the idea in my head to make Xander hurt as much as I was, and then… well, you appeared, and...”

Spike muttered something, hoping she wouldn’t hear. “That Cecily always was a nosey little bitch even when she was human. Don’t know why I ever fell for her.”

Unfortunately, Anya had heard him, although she didn’t have a clue what he was on about. “What?”

“Nothing. Doesn’t matter…”

She shrugged. “If I’d known about you and Buffy, I swear, I’d have never-“

“Forget it, Anya. I was lookin’ to make her hurt, too. Let’s just… forget it, okay?”

“Deal,” she said, obviously relieved.

As the welcoming lights of the Summers house approached, the two finished their patrol in a far more amicable silence than when they’d started, content in the knowledge that there were no qualms between them any more. Anya, thanks to Spike’s adamant observation about Xander, now had hope for redeeming their relationship. It would take time, but she was determined to see it through, and was sure that Xander was, too.

Spike was now feeling slightly better about trying to make friends with the Scoobies, and the prospect wasn’t as hideous as he’d first imagined it to be. Xander was really the only one he still had to make peace with, and it seemed as if it wouldn’t be too difficult after all. For Buffy’s sake, he was willing to try, anyway.

As for Buffy, he was already starting to dread their impending conversation, even though he knew it had to happen. Despite her affirmation that she’d meant what she said at the abandoned factory, he was still a little paranoid that it had been a spur of the moment thing. And he wasn’t entirely sure how the Magic had been affecting her afterwards, so the sooner it was out of her system and she was back to normal, the better.

All he wanted to do was forget about whatever constituted as their past, and start over. She loved him, and she’d finally accepted that for herself, and that was all he needed to know. He knew, however, that they needed to see through the pain before they could do anything to make it better. If talking it through was a means to an end, then he’d have to do so… but he’d managed to talk to Anya without it turning into a shouting match, so he was feeling a whole lot more confident about it.

The only thing he really wanted now was to be with her, no matter what it took. To forget the past, they had to talk about it. It didn’t promise to be easy, but that was par for the course. And he was sure, that this time, it would all be just fine…

Chapter Twenty-Six

Devon, England, two days later…

Buffy had never seen anything like it. Sure, she'd seen a few amazing views in her time - the night skyline of L.A., for example, and Sunnydale's vista by night, when she'd been at the top of the tower a year ago, marvelling at everything for the last time. But this… this was completely different. So… fresh. Just greenery, hills and sky for as far as she could see, and the cold, greyish-blue of what Giles had informed her was the Bristol Channel in the distance. And, far beyond that, disappearing into the haze, was the Welsh coast. The Slayer was fascinated by the smallness of it all, the way the two countries just squished together like they did. She was used to huge cityscapes, and sea that disappeared over the horizon instead of meeting land a few miles away.

She was standing at the side of the road, where she'd demanded Giles stop the car they'd hired. She was wired, probably from the incredibly long time she'd been asleep during the flight, and there was no calming her down. She'd been up the entire night of their arrival, much to Giles' chagrin as he'd been trying to get to sleep and she'd pestered him about everything from the Civil War to the Royals and all points in-between, and she seemed to be blissfully unaffected by jetlag. However, standing at the very top of a hill on a practically deserted country road, breathing in fresh, half-sea, half-countryside air, she felt her nerves starting to calm down.

Giles was standing by the car, waiting for her. They'd been driving from the hotel in Barnstaple, the main large city of the county, to a secluded spot in the middle of nowhere. At least, that's what it looked like on the map - it was, in fact, a secluded spot in the middle of Exmoor, that Vivianne had given directions to. They'd stopped for a breather, mainly so they could both stretch their legs, and also to attempt to calm Buffy before they met the rest of the coven. Vivianne had given strict instructions that Buffy needed to be clear in mind prior to her arrival, to make the recalling spell work as fast as possible.

Luckily, the fresh air seemed to be helping considerably, and when she turned back and headed to the car, he could tell she was much mellower than she'd been on the way.

"Okay, let's go…"

"Feeling better?"

"Yeah. Nervous, but less hyperactive…"

"Good." They both clambered back into the car and Giles started it up again, continuing their journey. Buffy resisted the urge to fiddle with the radio - the last time she'd tried, she'd managed to cause flying sparks and short circuit the entire car - and conceded to sit watching the view as it passed by. Tall hedgerows on either side of the narrow road blocked any attempt to figure out where they were, and she was only just getting used to the impossibly bendy route they were taking. She'd been far more comfortable on the motorways; at least they were straight like she was used to.

Suddenly, a thought struck her. "Hey… I'm sure I read somewhere about there being some kind of creature on Exmoor…"

Giles laughed. "It's a common myth, yes."

"A myth?" She didn't look convinced. Peering at the thick hedges, she could believe there was something lurking there. "Well… if there is, it's going to be messing with the wrong American…"

"Quite." He seemed to find the idea amusing, and added, "Afterwards, I'll take you up to Scotland and you can throttle Nessie."

"Ooh, really?" He looked across at her with a knowing glance, implying he'd been joking. "Oh… geez, you people sure have a lot of myths."

"It's part of our innate charm," he said. "Besides. We don't know for sure if they are myths. After all, there's no Slayer here to keep the demon, monster and dragon population at bay."

"True," she said. After that, their conversation dwindled away into nothingness once more. After another half-hour or so of driving, they turned into an even narrower road than the apparent 'main' road they'd come in on, which seemed to be little more than a dirt track. Buffy looked around somewhat nervously. "Are you sure this is right?"

"Yes, this is the road Vivianne marked on the map," he said, assuredly, and kept on driving. Eventually, a gap appeared in the hedge, and, as he slowed to a stop, a woman emerged through it and flagged them down. Her long, brown hair was scraped back into a somewhat messy braid at the back of her head, and she was dressed in jeans, walking boots, and a thick fleece.

Giles stopped the car, and indicated for Buffy to get out. A little cautiously, she did so, and waited for him to lock up the car and join her. Once he had done, he gestured for her to move. She fixed a friendly smile (albeit a slightly weak one) and approached the woman.

Vivianne smiled widely as they got nearer, and enveloped Giles in a huge hug. "Rupert! Good to see you again."

"You, too."

She turned to the Slayer, who was shifting uncomfortably and looking around at her surroundings. Exmoor was more foreboding than the parts of Devon they'd travelled through had been, and the sky was clouding over, too, making the whole scene a lot more eerie. "And you must be Buffy," said Vivianne. "Rupert's told me lots about you."

"Uh… yeah. Hi." She held out a hand to shake, awkwardly, then retracted it again with a shrug when she remembered her predicament, and put her hands in the pockets of Spike's duster. She was beginning to see why he liked it so much; it was perfect for feeling invisible when you were uncomfortable with a situation. Her fingers wrapped around a box that she instantly identified as his cigarettes, and she held back a smile. Spike was probably going insane without them.

She could sense the power in Vivianne, but she wasn't sure if it was her Slayer's Spidey-sense allowing her to do so, or if it was because of the magic in her own system. Whatever the reason, the brunette woman was clearly a very powerful witch, and, unlike Willow had been, was in complete control of her powers.

Vivianne could tell Buffy was nervous, and decided to be as gentle with her as possible. "Listen. It's going to be fine. You're a strong young woman and as long as your mind is free of distractions, there should be no problems."

"Is this gonna hurt as much as the other stuff did?" she asked, finally.

"No. You don't need to do anything, either, just concentrate on… well, nothing."

Feeling a little happier, she put on a determined face. "Right. Good. Let's get started." With that, she moved past Vivianne through the gap in the hedgerow, and into the field beyond. Giles and the witch watched her for a moment.

"How long will it take?" he asked.

"That depends. If she stays focussed, no time at all. If not… it could take several attempts."

"I think she's determined to get this over with," he admitted. "She managed to completely clear her mind the first time around… I'm fairly confident she'll be able to do it again."

"Only fairly…?"

He nodded. "She's got rather a lot on her plate at the moment. Aside from everything that's been happening in Sunnydale itself, she and her friends are all in various stages of emotional crisis…"

"Oh…" She looked over her shoulder to where Buffy was admiring the view once more. "And does she know about-"

"No, I haven't told her yet. Or any of the others. I didn't want to make it any more difficult for her."

"You'll have to tell her eventually, Rupert."

He sighed. "I know… I know I will…"

Sunnydale…

With Xander out patrolling with Clem, having finally finished repairing Buffy's couch and coffee table (remarkably well, probably out of guilt), Willow was having an early night. Anya had gone back to her apartment for the moment, just to check on things, and Dawn and Spike were down in the basement training, for what it was worth. She'd been patrolling with the teenager the night before and it seemed like training would be a waste of time - Dawn was already a very skilled fighter. She suspected it was just an excuse to spend some time with Spike, however, and she wasn't going to complain if it meant it was reasonably quiet on the top floor of the house.

Sitting at the dressing table, she stared absently at her reflection. She looked terrible, she realised. On patrol the night before, they'd gotten ambushed by a dopey fledgling, and before Dawn could get near enough to stake it, quite a fight had ensued. She was sporting a nasty bruise on her cheek that she was currently wishing she could just heal with a spell. Apart from that, there were dark circles under her eyes, and her mouth was drawn into an almost perpetual grimace. She wondered how she was managing to stay happy around the others.

The thought of Buffy and Giles' surprise party, however, made her feel slightly better. Finally, things were starting to feel right again for her friends. Anya and Xander were struggling, but it wouldn't be for long; Buffy was clearly determined to make it work with Spike. And, magic or no magic, Willow herself was miles better than she'd been only a week ago.

She yawned, closing her eyes momentarily, and got up to prepare the bed for sleeping in. She'd made a conscious decision that morning to stop sleeping on Tara's old side of it, because it wasn't helping her at all. Instead, she'd moved all the pillows into one big pile in the middle so she had the whole mattress to spread herself out on. Not only was it less painful emotionally, it was also more comfortable.

She finished beating up the final pillow and turned back to the mirror, nearly jumping out of her skin at what she saw. Reflecting back at her was not only herself, but Tara, once more, standing just behind her like before. Willow blinked, just to ascertain whether or not the image was real, and when it remained, she took a step closer to the mirror. Tara remained where she was. Willow swallowed, then said,

"Are you real?"

"Yes, Will…"

Breathing a sigh of relief, she smiled. "What are you doing back? I thought the Powers were all strict on that sort of thing."

"They are… I guess they like us, huh?"

"I guess…" The two shared a smile like they used to. "So… why are you here? Not that I'm complaining…"

"Because y-you need me."

"I do?" Realising that didn't sound particularly good, she back-tracked. "I mean, I do… always… but… not like before."

The mirror-Tara came up closer behind Willow's reflection and wrapped both arms around her waist, comfortingly. Willow felt a chill go through her midriff and instinctively wrapped her own arms around her stomach; in the mirror, she saw herself holding Tara's arms. "You… you can't do magic, c-can you?" asked Tara.

"How did you know?" asked Willow, surprised.

"Watching over you, remember?"

"Oh, yeah… And no… I can't. The… the purging, it…"

"I know…"

"Giles is gonna ask his friend in England if she can help me."

"I know that, too…" she said, grinning. Dropping the smile, she continued, seriously, "But I don't think she can…"

"No, me neither… I guess I'm just going to have to… re-learn, or something."

"Will, you never learnt magic." The redhead looked confused. "I-I mean, you didn't have to. Magic's always been in you; when you started practising, it just… ignited the power."

Willow looked suddenly terrified. "I'm never going to get it back?"

"Well… th-that's sorta why I'm here." Mirror-Tara released her again and moved to stand next to her. "When I died, my powers came with me. And… and I don't need them where I am. I s-spoke to the Powers, and they agreed it would be best… I mean, seeing as you lost yours fighting the good fight… that it'd be best if I… gave them to you…"

"What…?" Tara didn't answer, merely smiled. "But… how?"

"Just stand still…" Bewildered, Willow did as she was told, watching as Tara's mirror-self walked behind her, then began to walk forwards, straight through her, until her own reflection was an amalgamation of herself and Tara, oddly translucent and shimmering. The shimmering became a white glow emanating from her (or their) stomachs, working out, eventually enveloping them both and shrouding the entire room in brightness. Then, suddenly, it stopped, and Tara walked right the way through Willow and emerged on the other side, before standing next to her again.

Willow looked down at her hands, sensing the power in her grasp once more. The spot on her face where her bruise had been had also stopped smarting. She could feel the magic pumping through her veins, exploring new territory, before finally settling in the pit of her stomach, familiarly. She looked up again and met Tara's gaze in the glass. "Wow… Thanks…"

"What else are mirror-girlfriends for?" she joked, bringing a smile to Willow's face, that turned into a wide grin.

"I feel like I should give you something, but… I don't even know if I can…"

Willow's shoulder suddenly tingled right the way down her arm as mirror-Tara rested her head there. "You've given me so much already… Just… just promise me you'll use it well."

"I will… I promise… I don't think I can do bad with this, Tara; it feels… it feels so pure. It's like silver and satin and ice at my fingertips…"

Tara smiled. "Really? I always thought of it more as gold and honey…"

"That, too… God, my power was like fire and… and lava compared to this…" She looked at her hands again, somewhat in awe. She'd never realised how different their magic had been, nor how 'impure' her own had become. She felt as though she'd been cleansed inside and out. Feeling the loss of contact at her shoulder all of a sudden, she looked up again to find Tara looking up at the ceiling.

"I… I have to go… I've been here too long already…"

"Darn those Powers," muttered Willow, semi-comically. "But… but thank them from me. I owe them big time."

She giggled. "I won't use those exact words. They, uh, tend to remember stuff like that."

"Right."

"I don't know if I'll be able to come here any more. Once was difficult; twice is nearly impossible. But… but if you really, really need me, then… I'll try."

"I understand… I think we're all going to be okay, now. And now I know you're happy where you are, I… it doesn't hurt so much."

"And now I know you're all right, I can, um, rest in peace."

The two smiled again. "Love you…"

As the light began to form in the ceiling of the mirror-bedroom, Tara stood away from her slightly. "Love you, too, Will. Goodbye…"

"Goodbye…"

The light enveloped her, and she was gone. Willow smiled, a proper, genuine, happy smile, for what felt like the first time in centuries. Looking down at her hands again, still amazed by the new sensations, she decided to test out her new powers, just for curiosity's sake. She moved back over to the dresser, where she'd put the dried flowers she'd been using a few days ago to practice, and placed her hand over a lipstick. She muttered "Leviosa…" again, and raised her hand… then laughed in pure delight as the lipstick raised effortlessly and smoothly from the surface of the table and followed her every move.

Not wanting to overdo it, she let it drop to the table once more. She looked up, heavenwards, and said, "Thank you…" then examined herself in the mirror again. Being happy did wonders for one's looks, it seemed, and she grinned at herself. Things were finally starting to go right again.

Suddenly, she didn't feel like sleeping any more, and the sound of the door opening downstairs indicated that Xander was back, and, by the sound of it, had invited Clem inside, too. Or, at the very least, Clem had invited himself. Leaving the bedroom with a positive spring in her step, and hoping she didn't look too goofy, Willow went downstairs to meet them, just as Dawn and an exhausted-looking Spike re-emerged from the basement.

"Hey, guys," she said. "Hi, Clem. How was patrol?"

Xander waved a hand to indicate he was incapable of talking at the moment. "Can't talk. Need beverage…" So saying, he stumbled towards the kitchen and began rooting in the fridge.

Clem looked a little out of his depth for a few seconds, then shrugged and decided to answer the question for him. "Wasn't too bad. Just a couple of fledglings. They put up quite a fight. Oh, hey Spike…" The vampire waved half-heartedly in greeting.

Xander came back into the lounge, swigging from a carton of orange juice. "They were fast… well, they were fast until Clement here used all that skin to our advantage…"

Everybody suddenly had the same horrible mental image, and shuddered. "Ew…" noted Dawn, speaking for the room. Then, to Xander, "And eww, Xander. Other people have to drink that, you know…"

"No, they don't," he said, holding it upside down to indicate it was now empty.

"How did your training go, Dawn?" asked Willow.

Spike answered for her. "Her training, my arse. Bit gave me a run for my money, I can tell you."

"Oh, you're a wuss, Spike…" she countered, then whispered conspiratorially to Willow. "He just wasn't paying attention 'cos he's so worried about Buffy. It's kinda cute, really…"

She'd forgotten about his vampire super-hearing. "Cute, am I? I'll give you cute…" So saying, he lunged at her, making quite sure he had no intention of harming her so the chip wouldn't go off. She reacted instantly and on auto-pilot (or auto-Slayer, more appropriately) and kicked out at the back of his knees, sending him toppling over backwards with a crash. He groaned at the impact, and Dawn realised what she'd done.

"Oops… sorry…" she said, offering him a hand up.

Spike clambered to his feet and addressed Willow. "See what I mean?"

"You okay?" she asked.

"Yeah… I'll be glad when your bloody sister's back, though. You can beat her up instead…"

"We'll all be glad when she's back," said Xander. "Talking of which, how goes the party-planning?"

Willow grinned. "I've got a few ideas. I thought we could make a banner, y'know? And lots of balloons and confetti and stuff. And I thought we could all sorta ambush her when she arrives, and…" Willow continued to reel off all her ideas to the group at top-notch speed, for at least another fifteen minutes. Xander and Dawn occasionally offered suggestions, and Clem offered to help if he could - he'd thoroughly enjoyed Buffy's birthday party and was looking forward to this one, too.

Spike, however, since he wasn't having any part in the surprise, wasn't in the mood to discuss it, and took himself off elsewhere. The only place free of Scoobies and more or less memory and emotional demon-free was the basement, and even that wasn't completely perfect after his encounter down there with Buffy. Nevertheless, the cot was still set up from his stay, and he could, at least, shut the door on the meeting in the lounge. Much as he was looking forward to the Slayer's return, he didn't want to crowd her; he was going to let her spend the time with her friends, and if she wanted to see him, she'd know where to find him. This time, he was determined not to push her too hard.

Exmoor…

It was nearly nightfall by the time the coven had gathered, and if the clearing hadn't been decidedly spooky before, it most certainly was now. The sky had darkened to a deep blue, almost pitch black, and it was too cloudy to see the stars. There was no moon; the coven were working by candlelight. The only thing that was putting Buffy's nerves at ease was the fact that she knew Giles was close by, watching the procedure.

She was sitting cross-legged, as instructed, in the centre of a circle of five candles, her eyes firmly shut as she concentrated very hard on clearing her mind. Around her, the coven had gathered, and were busy focussing their energies so they could be perfectly attuned to each other. Twelve of Vivianne's friends and associates were members of the coven, all of them friendly and pleasant, and nothing like Buffy had imagined. Many of them were in respectable jobs when they weren't practising magic; some of them had families; Vivianne herself, it turned out, was a school teacher.

Clearing her mind was proving far more difficult than she'd anticipated. The surroundings were unfamiliar, for a start, and she was beginning to wish she'd put on another layer of clothing. Spike's advice had turned out to be useful after all. Not only that, she could feel the magic within her much more than she had previously. It wasn't an altogether unpleasant sensation, just an unfamiliar one - like something not quite warm, and not quite cold, bubbling in her stomach. As the ladies' energies began to focus, Buffy could feel it, as though it was getting excited, preparing to be released.

Eventually, the outside sounds became more distant, and she finally managed to clear her mind of any erroneous thoughts. One of the reasons Giles had stuck around was because he knew, instinctively, from years of training her, when she'd reached a suitable trance-like state for the coven to proceed. He watched her for a few more seconds before finally giving a single nod to Vivianne.

The brown-haired witch began to chant in a low voice, and her neighbour joined in. One by one, the others started up, until all twelve of them were muttering the same words. They repeated it, over and over again, each time getting slightly louder. Giles watched the process somewhat curiously - he remembered something similar to this happening when they'd created the magic for him in the first place. As the chant continued, after a while, Buffy began to hover, getting higher, very slowly, still in her cross-legged position. Her entire body started to glow, emanating from her middle; the chant had increased from a whisper to a full-blown shout.

Suddenly, the entire coven stopped chanting, and silence fell. Then, Vivianne spoke. "That which was created for good, and which now causes pain, let it be recalled!"

Buffy had, by now, completely vanished into the ball of light that was surrounding her, which was so bright that Giles had to shade his eyes. From within the ball, a snake-like wisp emerged, spiralling upwards. It separated into twelve smaller snakes, and from there, it drifted slowly towards each member of the coven. The glow around Buffy gradually diminished, and she headed back towards the ground, just as gently as she'd gone up, landing in the same position she'd started in.

Each member of the coven briefly crackled, their borrowed magic resettling itself with the rest of it. Then, everything stopped, and the twelve women came back to reality, one by one, at their own pace. Vivianne was the first to recover, breathing a sigh of relief when she saw that Buffy was still safely on the ground in her trance-like state, and she gave a nod to Giles.

He breathed out, and approached the circle, finally able to turn on the torch he'd brought and shedding some more light on the matter. "Did it work?"

"It seems like it. Ladies?" She addressed her friends, who all gave various positive affirmations. "Well, everyone seems to think so. I suppose the real test is when she brings herself out of it."

Giles nodded absently, approaching Buffy and crouching to her level. Cautiously, he placed both hands on her shoulders. He received no shock, and smiled. That was, at least, a good sign. He shook her slightly. "Buffy…"

He had a brief moment of panic when she didn't react, and then, just when he was beginning to think she'd gone completely catatonic, her eyes opened. "Whoa…" she said, clearly still not quite alert, and remembering very vaguely what had happened. "I was… I was flying…"

He laughed. "Near enough…"

She shook her head to clear the fuzz, and allowed him to help her stand up, realising her legs weren't going to co-operate for a while. "As you can touch me, I'm gonna assume it worked…"

"Well, do you feel magical?"

She concentrated. "Nope."

"Then it worked…"

"Thank God…"

Giles helped her stumble towards Vivianne, who was smiling. "Well done, Buffy," she said. "I had no doubt you'd be able to cope physically, but I never realised how strong you were mentally…"

"Thanks." Finally, Buffy got to shake the woman's hand. "And can I just say, wow? You were amazing, all of you… before the magic left, I could just sense so much power… Not just that, but so many different types of power, too. I'd never realised before."

"Looks like we both learnt something, then," she said. "Now, you should rest. You probably don't feel very tired, but trust me - sleep now, and you won't burn out later."

"Right." She looked over to the gap in the hedge where they'd originally met, and saw the women of the coven leaving, their cars driving past and occasionally lighting the field with their headlamps. "Can you thank the rest of them for me?"

"I'll be sure to do that."

Buffy smiled gratefully, and stood there a little awkwardly, still with Giles' arm around her shoulder to support her. "Oh, what the heck…" she muttered, and threw her arms around Vivianne. The older woman returned the gesture, a little taken aback, but pleased nonetheless. Buffy let go, and instantly clung to Giles again as she felt her knees buckling. "And by the way, I love England. Even if it is horribly expensive…"

"I'm with you on that one," said Vivianne. "Now go. Rest."

Buffy nodded. "'Bye. And thanks again." With that, Giles smiled his goodbye to Vivianne, and directed Buffy to the car. He helped her in, and then walked around to the driver's side. He cast a glance to the witch, who gave him a knowing look that wished him luck when it came to telling Buffy about his staying in England, and then he got into the car himself. As he drove off, the brunette sighed, and made her way to her own vehicle. Rupert was a dear friend, but sometimes, he really did get himself into the most complicated predicaments…

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