Chapter Nine

“Have they started yet?”

Giles jumped a little at Dawn’s voice, he was just closing the separating doors between the living room and hallway to give Willow and Tara some privacy and he hadn’t heard Dawn come up behind him.

“Oh, no.  They’re just finishing setting up now.”  Giles tried for a supportive smile but it came off rather sickly looking.  “I’m sure they’ll be starting momentarily.”

Dawn studied Giles’s expression, searching for signs of what he was feeling.  He was the hardest of the group for her to read.  Probably the whole old British guy thing.  Of course, there’s always the hard way...actually asking him what he thought.  Not normally her first choice, but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

“So,” Giles asked her, wondering why she was staring at him so intensely, “did you finish the dishes?”

His question earned him another large eye roll and a deep sigh.  Oh, the horrors the average teen must go through in life.  Not that Dawn was your average teen - in any aspect.

“Are you, like, okay with this spell stuff now?”  Dawn needed to find out just where he stood in the matter.  It was important to have everyone working together.

Giles actually watched in wonder as the teen gave way to the young woman right before his eyes.  She was terribly focused on this Spike business and it made Giles uncomfortable.  He was in no way going to hide that from her, as if he could, but he didn’t want to seem too overbearing and risk alienating her, either.

“I’ll be honest with you, Dawn, I don’t believe Willow is fully aware of just what she’s getting herself into.  The aura of a vampire is bound to be vastly different than that of a human.  I know you want Spike back, but I don’t believe it’s worth risking Willow’s safety, o-or Tara’s for that matter.  I know you are still grieving for your sister, we all are, but this isn’t the way to deal with that.”

Dawn frowned and crossed her arms over her chest, angry and surprised at the Watcher.  “Is that what you think?  That I’m trying to bring Spike back because...what...because I can’t deal with Buffy dying?”

Giles had tried to let the girl go through the grief process in her own time, but it had come to a point where another’s well being was at risk.  He knew that Willow wouldn’t put an end to it, she was doing this for Dawn, but if he could get Dawn to see, and to admit that she may just be using Spike’s disappearance as a crutch, then she may be willing to stop it before it goes too far.

“I believe,” Giles chose his words carefully and spoke slowly, “that, subconsciously at least, you may be transferring your desire to have Buffy back onto Spike.”

He had been well aware that finally telling her what he thought about her obsession with Spike would get a reaction, he hadn’t anticipated that reaction coming in the form of being grabbed by the wrist and pulled down the hallway to the kitchen.  But that’s what Dawn did.  She closed the kitchen door behind them and sat down at the table.  Giles, moving a bit cautiously because he had no idea what to expect, lowered himself to a chair across from her.

The eyes that bored into him were positively ancient.  She had lifted the barrier to her soul so there would be no question about her pain.  Giles was left feeling quite small when compared to the anguish he saw there.  When she spoke, her voice - that of a normal fourteen-year-old girl instead of the wise woman he saw in her eyes - was trembling with emotion.  It was a decidedly surreal experience.

“Okay, first...transference?  Please.  How old do you think I am?  ‘Cuz that would be understandable if I was, like, ten.  Secondly, Buffy died.  There’s no coming back from that.” As soon as she said it, she remembered what happened with her mom and quickly clarified, “Well, no way that leads to goodness, anyway.  Do I still hurt?  Yeah, a lot.”

Dawn, losing a touch of her bravado as she admitted just how much, looked down at her clenched hands and picked at one of her nails nervously.  “Sometimes, when I wake up in the morning, I forget that it happened, I smell breakfast cooking, something mom or Buffy would cook for me - well, okay, mostly mom...Buffy wasn’t all that culinarily capable - and it’s like nothing ever happened.  No Glory, no Key business, nothing.  Then it hits me and I remember.  And I can’t breathe because my chest hurts so bad.”

Dawn couldn’t look at Giles, her eyes filled with tears that spilled over and fell down her cheeks.  There was a lump in her throat and she had to swallow to be able to talk around it.

“But I have to.  I have to breathe, I have to eat, I have to go to school.  I have to grow up, grow old.  Because that’s what life is.  Buffy gave me that.”

Giles didn’t know what to say.  He didn’t know if he could say anything.  He reached up and slowly removed his glasses and set them on the tabletop, wiping at his eyes quickly as he did it.  Dawn sighed and raised her head, pinning him with her gaze.  The anguish was there, he could see it, but it had muted slightly when she spoke, when she released some of the pent up emotion.  It wasn’t so raw and aching.

“Plus, you know, in a way I haven’t really lost Buffy at all.  You guys don’t realize just how much of Buffy is in all of you, but I see it.”

Curious, Giles asked, “What do you mean?”

Dawn’s brow furrowed in thought as she tried to explain it to him.  “Well, it’s like each of you is a different part of her.  You’re her responsible side, her adultness kind of, and her smarts.  And now, thanks to the Dawn-sized addition to your family, you’re the caretaker side, too.” 

Giles smiled tenderly at her.

“Willow is kind of like Buffy’s spirit, her love and her conscience.  Xander’s the loyalty, the dedication and willingness to fight, no matter what the odds.  It’s like he’s her heart, ya know?”

Suddenly, Giles started to really hear what Dawn was saying.  How eerily similar it was to the parts they all played in the adjoining spell they did against Adam before Dawn was even with them.  They never told Dawn about the spell.  Or, better put, there were no monk-induced memories about telling Dawn about the spell.  It chilled him.  There was destiny in Dawn’s words; Giles could sense it, and fate.

Spiritus...Spirit.  Animus...heart.  Sophus...mind.

And Giles just knew what would be coming.

“I’m not transferring, Giles.  I swear.  I love Buffy, but she’s gone.  Spike isn’t.  He was taken, but he’s still alive.  And…I need him.  I can’t explain it any better than that.  I love all of you, and I love him too.  Like a big brother, though, so don’t freak on me, okay?”

When she was sure Giles wasn’t going to lecture her on having feelings for Spike, yet anyway, she picked up where she left off.

“He’s a big part of Buffy, too, I guess.  And I know he’ll protect me, protect all of us - like Buffy did.  He’s the fighter, the warrior side of Buffy.  I need him, but I also think we need him.”

And there it was.  Manus...hand.

It could be just a coincidence, Giles thought as he turned the ramifications of Dawn’s words over and over in his mind.  But there wasn’t much, in his experience, that was coincidence when you lived near a Hellmouth.  Giles didn’t know what it was, but it wasn’t coincidence.

“Plus,” Dawn’s voice had become little more than background music to Giles’ musings, “you gotta know that as soon as the bad guys spread the word about an un-Slayer protected Hellmouth in Sunnydale, this place is going to turn into a really scary, and...you know, way uglier version of Mardi Gras.”

Dawn looked at Giles and stopped talking.  He looked kind of dazed, like he just got some disturbing news.  Oh geez.  I knew I shouldn’t have told him all that stuff about how I feel about Spike.  He’s totally wigged.  Way to go, Dawn, now he’s never going to want to help getting Spike back.  She gave herself a few good mental kicks, trying to make a note never to do the deep confession thing with him anymore.  The man just couldn’t handle it.

In so thinking, Dawn was jolted a bit when Giles finally refocused his eyes and looked at her.

“I think you might be right, Dawn.  I think we may need to get Spike back.”

Dawn didn’t know what to say.  Okay...that was a little easier than I thought it would be.  But then, she WAS fourteen, and there wasn’t a fourteen year old alive that ever looked a gift horse in the mouth.  She beamed a grateful smile on the man that would always be the closest thing to a father she would ever have and he reached out, covered her hand with a supportive squeeze.

“Come on,” he said, “we’ll just go see how the girls are progressing, shall we?”

Giles hurried down the hall, Dawn close on his heels.  He opened the door to the living room where the girls were.  No sooner had they stepped into the room than a blinding ball of light burst forth from where Willow sat, cross-legged, on the floor beside Tara.  Giles and Dawn had to shield their eyes at the glare.

The ball of light raised up, floating toward the ceiling and then passing through it.  As soon as it vanished from sight, the room started to shake and a strong wind started to materialize, spinning like a small vortex around Willow.

And then all hell broke loose.

~*~*~*~*~*~

It had taken Willow and Tara a lot longer to prepare for the spell than they had thought.  But Willow wanted to be as sure as she could that she was really ready.  Much of the confidence she had shown to the group after dinner had been all show.  She wasn’t brave, she knew that.  She’d always been the first person to admit she was not happy in the role of ‘go to’ guy.

But this spell was more important that trembling in fear.  It was the only way Willow had to try to get rid of some of her guilt issues since Buffy died.  And she did have issues.  A lot of issues.  Not that she’d told anyone about them.

Ever since it happened, Willow had been plagued with the knowledge that she had not been a very effective member of the team in the fight against Glory.  Buffy had been counting on her, going so far as to label her with the terrifying burden of being ‘The Big Gun’.

Big gun, right, more like a peashooter.  Where had Willow been when Buffy was keeping Glory away from Dawn?  Knocked out.  And when she came to?  All thoughts had been of Tara.  The dimensional walls were getting ready to fall, her friends and loved ones were fighting for their lives, and all she had done was go to Tara.  By the time she’d turned her attention back to the fight, that Doc guy…demon…whatever, had already gotten up to Dawnie.  Sure, she’d been impressively commandery with her little mind works, getting Spike up those stairs, but it had been too little, too late.

And the sad thing is if she had it to do all over again, Willow knew she’d do the exact same thing.  Hence the heaping portions of guilt.

But she should have been more prepared.  What about that transportation spell they had tried once before on Glory?  That had worked.  Sure, big honkin’ migraines for weeks with a hearty side order of daily nosebleeds, but, hey...still better than a dead Buffy.

She could have transported Glory out of there until the time ran out on the ritual.  Then Buffy could have gone and gotten Dawnie and squished Doc like the big, ugly, long-tongued demony cockroach that he was.  It’s not like Glory wouldn’t have shown back up after the fact for some God sized payback - and Willow could have brain drained her then to help Tara.  Without the universe’s destruction and Dawn’s life hanging in the balance.

Point being, there were a lot of things she could have done and none of them got done, so Buffy’s dead.

And if Willow really examined her motives, that was why she was so willing to do something that was so scary.  Merge auras with a vampire?  Oh, sure, no problem.  Just a walk in the park.  Yeah, like Central Park...at midnight...wearing lots of jewelry...in skimpy clothing...yelling, “Please come rob me, kill me, and rape me now!”

But she was going to do it.  For Dawn.  For Spike.  For herself.

When Tara had suggested in that sweet way she had that they may want to try some meditation exercises before they proceeded, Willow had leapt on the idea.  Meditation should help get her aura straightened out before it came in contact with one that was sure to be just chock full of snaky, evil badness.

By the time they had gotten that done Willow did feel better.  More in tune with herself.  And everything else that could possibly be used as a stall tactic was forcibly pushed to the back of her mind.  It was time.

They sat next to each other, legs crossed and almost touching.  Willow was facing the window, Tara, the doorway leading into the dining room.  There were candles lit in a circle around them, and incense burning.

Clasping hands tightly with Tara after leaning in for a quick, supportive kiss, Willow started to gather her magickal energies.  She could feel Tara calling hers.  It was a comfortable feeling, a familiar feeling.  They had worked so many spells together, it was as easy as sliding into your favorite pair of sneakers.

Then Willow started to recite the merged spells.

It was powerful, she could feel it pulling her mind, drawing her into the nether realm.  Again, something that she had a lot of experience with lately.  This part didn’t frighten her at all.  She let her aura slip away from her body and follow the siren call into the abyss.

In the back of her mind she could feel Tara, gently reaching out a tendril of grounding energy, like a life line, that would keep the two of them connected just enough for Tara to be able to pull her out if things didn’t go according to plan.  She got a quick jolt of love and acceptance when it brushed against her aura, then she felt it burrow in, grab a hold, and prepare for what was to come.

Willow used her mind’s eye to see what was going on and followed mentally as her aura continued on into the nether realm.  It didn’t take long, it’s not like the first few times when she had to tentatively ‘feel’ her way through this long passageway.  No, this was a path well worn by use, and soon she could see Spike’s aura glowing brightly in front of her.

There was always a little emotional trill of relief that danced through Willow every time she came upon Spike’s trail.  It was a constant assurance that he was still alive.

Willow started to direct her aura down the pathway, toward where the barrier cut off the trail.  That was the plan.  She would merge auras with Spike right at the cutoff point, so she could see what he had seen when the door opened.

The first indication that things weren’t going to go according to the plan came almost immediately after Willow gave the first mental nudge to her aura.  It pushed against her slightly, resisting just a fraction instead of floating away like it should.  Then, when it was finally moving forward a bit, and Willow was getting ready to follow it, it stopped.  Before she could reach her mind out, she saw it turn and move towards the starting point of Spike’s trail.

That was not supposed to happen.  It wasn’t supposed to move on its own and it certainly wasn’t supposed to change direction as if making a conscious choice.  Willow, quickly filling with dread and starting to get the ‘big spell gone bad’ wiggins, tried to reach her mental arm out to stop it but it breezed past her, just out of reach.  There was nothing she could do but watch in horror as it spread out and neared Spike’s aura, brushing it slightly.

There wasn’t even time to sever the connection and return to her own plane.

She was hit with a wave of debilitating emotion so intense that it almost made her retch.  Stunned, she watched as her aura infiltrated his, green mixing with the coppery color, swirling together as one.  She tried to send out a mental call to Tara for help, but it was stopped before it began as the next, even more powerful surge of tsunami-strength feelings battered her.

Then, there was a physical wrenching sensation from her body.  Something - her soul, her essence, Willow didn’t know - separated from her core and hurtled into the realm.  Her mind’s presence was in the way and got bowled over as it passed through.  It, too, was being attracted by Spike’s aura and Willow watched it join with the shimmering thread.  It was the last thing she saw, that she recognized, as an observer.

Suddenly, all she could see was blackness.  All she could feel was agony, hatred, wrath, vengeance, loss, heartbreak, and sorrow.  The maelstrom of emotions overwhelmed her, stripped everything that was Willow away from her.  It was Spike.  She was Spike.  And all she knew were his feelings.  All she was were his feelings.

With a tug and a jolt, she moved down the path of Spike’s trail, knowing - in some dark corner of what was left of her individual mind - that she would now experience everything he had as he’d experienced it.  And she knew, too, that it just might kill her.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Buffy glared down at the beaten vampire with disgust and contempt.  How had she ever thought this creature could ever be anything more than a monster?  The things he said...the sick pleasure he took in saying them.  God, the gang was right, she really was a poor judge of character to let this thing anywhere near her family.

And the things she told him, the way she’d confided in him before he went all pedophile vamp on her, it made her want to bite off her own tongue.  The bastard.

Buffy pulled an unresisting Spike to his feet and threw him away from her, as if touching him, having him anywhere near her was too revolting to deal with.

He shuffled back a bit, trying to keep his balance after being so abruptly discarded, and he winced at the pain in his side.  Bleedin’ hell.  I think she broke another rib.  Wish she’d just stake me.  Be better than seeing that look in her eyes.  Don’t blame her though, if it’d been me hearin’ some prig talk about Nibblet like that, I’d a ripped out his beatin’ heart - chip or not.

“Start talking, Spike.”  Buffy crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him, waiting to see how he was going to worm his way out of what had just happened.  Not that she was going to believe a single apology or attempt at reconciliation.  She’d fallen for that one just about a dozen times too many from him.

Spike saw the woman standing a few feet from him with absolute clarity.  He had no illusions that she was perfect - she was bloody well far from perfect.  She was arrogant, irritating, bossy, and way too quick with the ‘hit first, ask questions later’ bit...well, okay, so that was actually something he admired about her.  Except when it was directed at him.  She blamed him for everything that went wrong in her life and she thought he was just a few steps farther down on the ‘Things I want to Have Around’ list than dirty knickers.  All in all she was a not-so-pleasant person.

So why did he love her so much that it physically hurt him more to suffer her contempt and hatred than her punches and kicks?  Because of the rest of it, the loyalty, the passion, the caring, the strength...everything else in her made it impossible not too.  You’re royally buggered, mate.  She’d sooner spit on you right now as look at you, and you still can’t even stand the thought of life without her.  Not like that’s a bloody concern, what with knowin’ how this play’s gonna end.

After waiting for Spike to say something, preparing for his excuses and apologies, Buffy started to get very impatient when he just stood there...well, okay, so he’s really more swaying than standing, but still, she didn’t appreciate the wait.  She stormed up to him and shoved him hard in the chest to get his attention.

He fell back into the trunk of the tree and even Buffy winced a little at the grinding sound of a broken bone in his chest.  He didn’t make a single sound of complaint at the pain.

“I don’t think we’re communicating, Spike, because I appear to be the only one speaking.  I’m waiting for you to say something.”

Spike hung his head, the only person that could possibly hate him more right now than Buffy did was himself.  He wished he could her tell how sorry he was for doing what he did, but he just couldn’t.  He couldn’t ask her to forgive him because he couldn’t forgive himself.

He didn’t want to have to say all the going back stuff again, either.  He’d hoped she would come back to herself and just decide to go.  Didn’t look like he had any more luck on him than he did cigarettes.

“I told you, Slayer.  I was sent here to get you to go back.  Told you were the only one that could stop a major redecoratin’ of the entire planet.  Pair that tapped me didn’t tell me how it’s to start, but I saw the end.  Not somewhere you want to bundle up the kiddies for a nice family vacation, if you get my meanin’.”

That wasn’t what she expected him to say, and something about the fact that he wasn’t apologizing bothered her for some reason.  But what did she expect?  No soul, no conscience, no apology.  It’s funny, though, she’d gotten used to him being more repentant of late.  It made her mad that she cared that he wasn’t sorry.  Her voice lashed out at him unmercifully.  “Who sent you?”

“Oracles, they said.  Called themselves ‘seerers’ and ‘guides’.  Right odd bunch, those two.  Big on the mind speak.  Seem to be some kind of mouthpiece for a group called the Powers.”

Buffy’s eyes narrowed at the story.  It didn’t make sense.  Why send Spike?  He was a vampire, he wasn’t even on the Power’s side.  “Why you.  Why did they send you?”

There was no way in hell Spike was going to explain to this hostile chit in front of him about the first idea the Oracles came up with, and why they had thought he’d be amenable to it, and he couldn’t tell her about why he believed they had sent him to heaven.  If she found out that his little wake up call had been a ruse, she may let go of that anger.  He didn’t know if that would trigger the Slayer part to slip away again, but he couldn’t risk it.  He didn’t want to lie to her, but then again he didn’t have to.

“They never actually said why they chose me, Slayer.  One minute I’m in the construction site after the Glory thing went down, next I was talking to a couple of green and gold, toga wearin’ entities.  They’re big on the ancient Rome theme, in case you’re interested.”

He couldn’t help the sarcasm.  It just slipped out.  Spike had been having one long series of bad times after another and he was feeling a mite bit confrontational.  It was better than being a big wanker and standing there feeling sorry for himself.

It wasn’t the sarcasm that bothered Buffy, though, it was the belief that he wasn’t telling her everything.  “What aren’t you telling me, Spike?”

A hell of a lot, actually, and I’m not gonna tell you, either.  But it’s nothin’ that you need to know, so don’t go the rogue Slayer route and stake a poor bloke just tryin’ to do the right thing here.

Spike hid his thoughts well...of course, the bruising and swelling in his face helped.  He shrugged one shoulder laconically.  “You don’t go back, our lovely little Sunny D is goin’ to be a demon’s wet dream in about three years.  The new look catches on, and it spreads from there.  They told me you were the only one who could stop it.  They were big into the balance thing.  Kept sayin’ you’re the ‘Keeper of the Balance’, whatever the bloody hell that means.  But you seem to be the chippy they want.  You’re THE Chosen One.”

Buffy grinned but there was no humor in it.  “Gotta love the mystical guide spiel.  Somehow they always manage to tell you everything you need to know but in such a way that you never understand it until it’s too late to help.  I’ve had enough experience with that, I could write a book.”

Suddenly, standing there against the tree, staring at the woman that he loved who completely detested him, fighting against wave after wave of Slayer induced and realm induced pain, Spike realized he just wanted all of this to be over.  He couldn’t do it anymore.  The atmosphere had quieted when they stopped fighting, but the storm was still gathering.  He knew it was coming for him.  And this time, he would welcome it.  But he had to make sure Buffy got out of here, first.

“Not that I’m not havin’ a real good time here, Slayer, but are you goin’ back or what?”

Buffy, startled at the raggedness in his tone, at the tiredness she heard there, was faced with the question she had wanted to avoid.  Leave it to Spike to cut to the heart of the matter.  Always the shortest distance between two points for him.

Buffy glared again briefly and turned away, stalking the backyard like an irritated panther.  Her mind was on overload.  She really was through, it wasn’t fair that she was being asked to go back.  What did the Powers want from her, what did they expect?  The first peace she’d known since she was Chosen and they strip it away like they strip away everything else.  She didn’t want to go back.

Spike watched her pace through narrowed eyes.  He knew her so well, he could just bet what she was thinking.  Probably goin’ on about how unfair her life is.  Could tell her about what’s bleedin’ unfair, ya know?  Doesn’t want to give up the peace of this place, I bet.  Least she got a chance to feel some peace.  Got a chance to see her mum again, too.  And now she knows, really knows, that when it is her time, she’s got an eternity of good times waitin’ for her.  More than I got, ya know?  Silly bint.  God I’m gonna miss her.

He dropped his head and stared at the ground.  He couldn’t watch her any more, it just hurt too much.

She didn’t want to go back.  But what choice did she have?  She couldn’t turn her back on the duty.  It was a part of her.  And she could take some of the peace with her.  She got to see her mom again, too, that was such a gift.  And so much of the burden had been lifted from her shoulders just in coming here.  Things in the past, mistakes she’d made were so much clearer and easier to forgive.  When she sacrificed herself for Dawn, she had done it with the newfound knowledge that the Slayer was much more than a killer.  She was a protector.  And now, according to these Oracles Spike mentioned, she was also the ‘Keeper of the Balance’.  That didn’t sound too bad.

And she’d get to see Dawnie.  Oh God.  Dawnie.  She would be able to live without the fear of Glory hanging over them all like a thick cloak of terror.  Dawn would be free, for the first time really, to live the life of a normal teenager, and grow up with the love of a sister instead of just the memory of one.

Then there was the gang.  She couldn’t wait to see their expressions.  Look guys, can’t keep a good Slayer down!  She wanted to see that.  Yeah, sure, they would have to keep fighting the fight, keeping the balance, but that sounds a touch better than taking on a Hell God.

It wasn’t going to be easy.  It was never easy.  There would be fear and pain and maybe loss, too.  But it was where she belonged.  It was where she was needed.

And she had originally turned her back on it completely.  When Spike first told her, she said no.  The world was going to end, the Powers sent a vampire to heaven to get her back because she was the only one who could stop it, and she turned him down.  That’s why he...

“Oh God.”

Buffy stopped mid-pace and turned to look at Spike’s lowered head and dejected stance.  She saw it, she didn’t know how she’d missed it before.  Suddenly she flashed back to when she first saw him at the bottom of the stairs earlier.  He had looked up at her with such naked longing and love, but there was something else there, too, and she hadn’t been able to identify it.  It was the reason she’d reached out to him and touched his jaw, an unconscious attempt to comfort.

Sorrow and resignation, that’s what it was.

He had known.  He had known he would have to make her want to go back.  That’s what he was apologizing for.  Shit.

Buffy’s anger and fury at the vampire dissipated and she could feel the Slayer in her receding a little.  It left room for her soul to reclaim the lost space until each part was perfectly even.  A calm descended and she once again felt the peace of this place seeping into her.  Not so much that it would affect her decision to go, but enough that for the first time ever, she was in perfect balance within herself.  She’d never had that before.  It was an amazing feeling.

It was a feeling of rightness, of destiny, of victory.  It was as if a bell chimed one perfect note into the realm and echoed back congratulatory blessings from all the Slayers that had come before and had never known this perfection.

Another memory drifted back into her conscious mind.  “You think you know, what’s to come, what you are.  You haven’t even begun.”  She’d been told that twice, once by a Tara-shaped guide in a dream, and again by Dracula.  Since then she’d forgotten it.  It came back to her just as the pieces of herself slipped into place, into alignment. 

What’s to come?  A lot of changes, that’s for sure.  What am I?  The Keeper of the Balance.  Have I finally begun?  Oh yeah, I think I really have.

Buffy smiled widely.  It was a good day.

And it was a good day thanks to Spike.  He had given this to her, had made it possible.  She couldn’t believe she’d even thought that he could have done those awful things to Dawn.  He loved her, too.  She had known that, always known that.

Before they had gone to take on Glory, he’d sworn to her that he would protect her to the end of the world.  Buffy had believed him, still believed him.  There was such sincerity in his face that night.  Such pride at being asked.

The gang loved Dawn, Buffy knew, but Spike was the only one besides her that loved Dawn in a ‘damn the consequences, no one’s harming a hair on her head’ kind of way.  And as she had told Spike earlier, there was no longer any doubt in her mind that he was capable of it.

What had the spirit guide told her in the desert?  Right, you only lose love if you reject it.  There was something Buffy was really through with.  Rejecting love.  No more of the big push away Buffy.

Oh yeah, bleach boy and I are going to have a very interesting conversation when we get back home.

She wished she had time now, but something was telling her it was time to go.  First, though, there was the small matter of collecting one very depressed vampire.  And giving him the shock of his undead life.

Buffy strolled over to where he still stood with his head down and shoulders bowed.  She tilted her head and stared at him for a while before he noticed her presence and felt her gaze on him.  He raised his head, his eyes searching and finding hers.

As before on the stairs, her heart ached at the sorrow and pain she saw there, right before he shuttered his expression and blocked out his true feelings.  She saw the sardonic glint that was so familiar and so aggravating snap into place and knew, without one shadow of a doubt, that he did it on purpose.

Spike was getting uncomfortable under her close scrutiny.  She didn’t say anything, just stared.  Finally he couldn’t take the suspense any longer.  “Well,” he practically growled in frustration, “have you made up your bleedin’ mind yet, Slayer?  Not like I don’t have better things to do with my time, ya know.  Heaven is just a touch uncomfortable for a vampire with my stellar personality.”

Buffy winced a little mentally when he called her ‘Slayer’.  Before tonight, it had been months since he’d done that.  She’d gotten used to the lilt of his accented voice when he said ‘Buffy’.  She missed it.

Trying to make her voice as imperious as possible she glared at him.  “You lied to me, Spike.”

Spike’s eyes flew wide in affront.  “Lied?  I did no such thing.  I told you everythin’ about the Oracles and why you need to go back.  It’s all bloody true, Slayer.  I swear.”  Bloody hell.  If she didn’t believe him then she was never going to go back.  Sod it all.

“Oh, I believe you about that, Spike.  Have no fear.  And just to assure you, I am going back.”

The relief was amazing, blinding.  But...

“Well then, what do you mean I lied?”  Spike tended to get suspicious when he couldn’t figure out what Buffy was on about.

“That night in my house, before we went to fight Glory.  You lied.”

Okay, it was obvious this place either affected a persons mind, or it affected a vampire’s hearing.  Either way, things were not adding up in Spike’s brain.  “Sorry, Slayer, you’re going to have to spell it out for the lowly vampire.  I’m afraid I’m not followin’.”

Buffy grinned internally, and fought to keep the serious expression on her face.  This was going to be fun.  “You told me you knew that you’re a monster.  You lied.  You’re no more a monster than I am, not anymore.  You haven’t been for quite some time.  You know it, and I know it.”

She couldn’t hold back the smile any longer when Spike’s eyes flew wide and his jaw dropped in stunned disbelief. 

And Spike honestly couldn’t believe what came out of his mouth next, it was like his brain had lost all control over his mouth.  “Oh yeah?  Only a monster would hit you like I did.  Threaten Nibblet like I did.  You’re wrong, Buffy.  I am a monster.  I’m a vampire, not a shred of soul anywhere on me.  And what’s more, I don’t want one.”

Buffy sighed.  Well, at least he went back to ‘Buffy’.  “I know this is going to come as kind of a shock to you Spike, but quite frankly, it doesn’t really bother me you don’t have a soul.  It has come to my attention lately that souls are vastly overrated.  As for hitting me, and what you said about Dawn...well, hitting me is easier to forgive, I’ll give you that.  But you were doing what you needed to do.  There was no warrior left in me, Spike.  You needed to bring that back.  You are probably the only one that could.  That’s why they sent you, wasn’t it?”

So completely flabbergasted, so overwhelmed by each and every syllable that fell from Buffy’s mouth, Spike was back to nodding like a hypnotized idiot.

Staring hard at her, he didn’t understand what his eyes were telling him.  First, he had seen the serenity of her soul, then he had witnessed the power of the Slayer.  But this, what he was seeing in her now, this was completely different.  This was both at the same time.  Something completely new.

He finally managed to say, “They never told me, I didn’t lie about that.  But, yeah, that’s what I figured.”

Buffy nodded, understanding why he hadn’t told her.  If she hadn’t had her epiphany before she realized he was doing it on purpose, she may have lost the Slayer in her forever.  She stepped forward and touched his cheek with a fingertip.  For a long moment she stared into his eyes, felt the power and emotion in them.  They were supposed to be windows to the soul, but he didn’t have one of those.  Whatever his eyes are windows to, it’s a nice place.

Speaking slowly to make sure he understood just how serious she was and how truly she believed, she said, “You would never hurt Dawn.  You would die to protect her.  You would die to protect me, too.  Thank you.”

She thought she saw those eyes of his get suspiciously damp, but she closed hers and leaned in to brush her lips gently against his before she could be sure.  And when she did she was hit with something very powerful, very visceral, and very delicious.  It shook her.

Oh yeah.  You are going to have one very long talk with the vampire after you get home.  He was right about that, too, damn him.  Heat.  Desire.

Buffy pulled back and stared, wide-eyed, at him.  He matched her expression perfectly.

She was the first to be able to form words.  “You know Spike, about that other thing you said to me that night.  When you said you know I’ll never love you...”

Spike’s face fell, convinced she was going to say something that he may not recover from.  He’d been riding along on a tidal wave of perfect emotions.  She had given him forgiveness and light.  She had kissed him and removed the guilt that had been weighing him down.  The way his life had been since entering this realm, it was just about time to be crushed down again.

He didn’t even realize he’d dropped his head to his chest until her small, warm palm was lifting it again.

He saw her compassion - it wasn’t pity, thankfully - and she gave a little mock frown to him.

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s impolite not to let a person finish their sentences before you get all gloomy?”  She grinned mischievously at him, “I don’t really know what I feel, Spike, not right now anyway.  But I know I don’t hate you, and never...well, never is a really long time.” 

That was the single most bittersweet thing he could ever imagine hearing.  He had been simultaneously granted entry into paradise, and had the door slammed just before he entered the gates.

Oh, luv.  You’re killin’ me.  Never is no time at all, pet.  Not for me.  I tried, Buffy, I did what I could.  I went about it the wrong way for a good long while.  I made mistakes.  And I didn’t realize until coming here, that you were dealin’ with your own demons, all be it the less ‘Grrr and fang’ internal kind.  But lemme tell you, luv, you and me?  We would have kicked ass and taken names.  Nothin’ would have stopped us.  It would have been bloody amazin’.

He said nothing, he didn’t let her see the anguish ripping at him, tearing him into pieces and blowing those pieces away on the hot, desert-like wind.  He couldn’t tell her.

Instead he forced a gentle smile to his face and took advantage of her openness to brush a strand of hair away from her face.  It didn’t really need to be brushed away, but he needed to touch her one more time.  He needed to drown in that heat for a second more before he prepared to step off the dance floor that had held him a captive of her for so long.

She smiled at the gentle caress and turned away, playfully teasing and as carefree as a wood sprite in the fall.  “Come on, ‘Big Bad’.  I want to say good-bye to mom, then we can go.  The gang is going to flip!  And I can’t wait to see Dawn.”

She was so at peace with herself, she didn’t notice the weight that was dragging down the blonde vampire following slowly behind her.  She didn’t notice his haunted expression or the pain in his eyes.  She didn’t notice him lift a tense fist to his face to quickly dash away the single tear that fell gently down one chiseled cheek.

She doesn’t love you, mate.  She’ll be fine.  Once she gets there the Scoobies will take good care of her, they’ll take care of each other.  It’s what those bleedin’ white hats always do.  She’ll be happy now.  She’s changed.  It’s different.  She’ll live, and every once in a while maybe she’ll think back on you, on the two of you, and smile a little.

That one wish was all that he had left.

Spike followed after Buffy, watching her as she hopped up onto the back porch and hurried into the house. As miserable as he was feeling, he couldn’t help but smile when he heard her bellow up the stairs to her mom. There she is, ladies and gents. There’s the little spitfire we all know and love. Said it before, I’ll say it again...she’s hell on wheels, that one.

The vampire went into the kitchen and picked up his duster from the chair, slipping it on in one smooth move. He had no idea what would happen now. The Oracles hadn’t mentioned how Buffy was going to get out of heaven, just that once she’d agreed to go, she’d be brought to them before heading back to her body shortly after she’d died. They hadn’t even told him how long it would take.

One thing was certain. He intended to be right there beside her until she was ripped out of his proverbial grasp.

Spike raised a hand to his lips, brushing his fingers gently across the skin there, turning his mind from what was coming and basking in the glow of her affection. She didn’t hate him. In fact, she’d let him know that it was no longer completely inconceivable for her to love him...someday. That he wasn’t going to be around to reach that day was of little consequence, it didn’t lessen the importance of the message.

And she had kissed him again, a sweet and gentle kiss. That brought the grand total up to two. To Spike’s way of thinking, two was nowhere near enough. Not to mention, as amazing as it was feeling the softness and warmth of those lips, what he really ached to do at least once was plunder that mouth until she couldn’t see straight. Drive the heat between them to a fevered pitch, to a point where it was so blatantly obvious even she could no longer deny that it exists. Turn her into a panting mass of quivering sexual longing. Give her some idea of what he felt every time he was near her.

He’d never dared try that before, as the dusting that would have surely followed would tend to put a crimp in a vampire’s plans for the rest of his unlife.

Standing in the kitchen, it hit him that he didn’t need to worry about that anymore. For the first time in a very long time, Spike grinned his notoriously cocky grin.

Come on, mate, what d’you got to lose? She could stake you, sure, but it would be better than sittin’ ‘round here, waitin’ for the master of the house to kick your pale, soulless ass out this bitch of a realm. And then there’s the other...she just might not stake you at all. Least you’d know for sure one way or the other.

He headed down the hallway, a gleam in his eye and confidence adding a swagger to his sauntering gait.

Buffy was standing next to the staircase, talking quietly to Joyce. Spike hung back a bit, waiting in the shadows as mother and daughter embraced tightly and kissed each other good-bye.

She turned to him when she was finished, an innocently happy smile on her face. “Let’s go, Spike. Now’s not the time to be dragging your feet.”

He stepped forward, the light from the living room uncovering his face as he emerged from the darkness. Suddenly Buffy had a hard time drawing a comfortable breath.

Oh God, she thought. Look at him. How does he do that?

Buffy had always known that Spike had an innate sexuality that oozed from every pore of his undead body. She had resented it long enough, she should know. But there were also times, like this one, when he seemed to be able to consciously grab a hold of that part of him and shove it forward for all to tremble at. When the innate sexuality was pushed up several notches and he turned into a pure, walking, talking, testosterone time bomb. She wondered briefly if this was a trait of all vampires or if it was uniquely Spike.

Buffy was betting on the latter and she shivered a little under the intensity of his gaze.

It was odd how she’d never really noticed before just how attractive he was. LIAR! You have too noticed, you fool. Why else would he be able to disturb you on such an elemental level ever since you first crossed paths with him? You’ve noticed, you just chose to ignore the knowing because of what he is.

Her thoughts scared her. There was truth in them. There was also truth in the fact that he was a vampire. Still a vampire, if maybe no longer a monster. It was something she couldn’t avoid, especially seeing him as badly hurt as he was now. No human could have taken the beating she gave him and still be standing, stalking toward her with that predatory sexual intent blazing out from him and sending her nerve endings into overdrive.

Spike saw her fear and sighed mentally even as he continued his prowl to her side. She’s afraid of you, mate. But what did you expect? All o’ her sweet little words ‘bout you not being a monster...you’re still a vampire, though. And she’s still the Slayer, no matter what changes this place has brought ‘round. She may treat you like a man, you stupid git, but it’s the fang she sees first. Always that.

And maybe because he knew that he was a vampire, not a man, he didn’t let the fear in her eyes stop him. He wasn’t that noble.

Halting his steps a hand span from her petite frame, he looked down into her large, questioning gaze and smiled pure heat. Damn the bloody consequences, this was his Slayer, his Buffy, and he was going to have her mouth before he was destroyed.

Spike brought his hands up to cradle her face, impressed that she didn’t flinch at his touch despite the fear in her eyes. She deserves so much more than you, you bloody fool.

Speaking slowly, completely absorbed in her gaze to the exclusion of his surroundings, beyond caring that her mother was standing behind her, watching him, he opened his heart to her one last time and told her what was in it.

“I love you, Buffy. I. Love. You.”

His head swooped down to capture her lips before he could see the reaction to his words in her eyes. He didn’t want to know.

For a split second her mouth was unresponsive to his pressure but he felt the smallest of tremors go through her and felt her hands settle at his waist. Not long after that her mouth opened under his and he was lost.

His left hand moved on its own volition to the back of her head, fisting around a handful of her silky hair. His right traced its way down her back and crushed her body to his, fitting her soft curves to his lean frame in a way that was meant to be. Two interlocking puzzle pieces, it was as if they were made to fit together perfectly despite the wrongness of their opposing natures.

She burned him, scorched him with her heat. It was a blissful feeling and he reveled in it. Fire...blazing fire, spread through him, engulfing him as their tongues danced together - fought, parried, and retreated only to be hunted down to fight some more. It was heaven in hell, it was an oasis in the Sahara, it was food for the starved, drink for the parched, music for the deaf, color for the blind. It was a conflagration and it was beautiful.

And Buffy gave as good as she got.

The soft shiver of fear hadn’t withstood his gravelly voice when he told her he loved her. She wanted him to see it, but he had descended from above too quickly and it startled her. Then she felt his cool lips and his desire for her, and all thoughts of explanations had fled on eagle’s wings. Never had surrender felt so right, been so sweet. Reaped so many rewards.

He possessed her without asking, without caring if she was ready to be possessed. She would let that bother her later. For now, all that mattered was that glorious tongue of his and what it was doing to hers.

Her hands squeezed into his sides and she knew, without needing to ask, that he was as aroused as he’d ever been. And it was wonderful, not needing to hold back on her strength. She couldn’t hurt him; she didn’t need to worry about that. She could be herself - all of herself - and not worry that it would be too much for him to take.

This was Spike. He’d seen her at her worst, at her most vicious, at her lowest as well. He had felt her strength and not only survived, but came back for more time and time again. It was a heady release. It was freedom. It was an inferno of lust and she gave into it.

She felt his arm go around her, pressing her so close to him that she knew he could feel her heartbeat - not that he was paying any attention to it. She wanted to be that close, in that instant she wanted to be closer. His arousal was pressing into her, blanketed by his clothes and separated by hers, and in that split second she yearned to strip away those offending layers and feel his cool body against her warmth.

It was honesty and it was raw and it was something she couldn’t hide from or evade. Not while his tongue was in her mouth, while his hand was wrapped in her hair, while his arm was gripping her so hard she almost couldn’t breathe.

Spike growled low in his throat. He was lost. Reality had been stripped away and he was left trembling on a precipice of pure emotion. He had thought to teach her a lesson? What a fool he was. She had taught him, instead.

Buffy had responded to his desire in ways he had been completely unprepared for and it humbled him. And it brought the realization that it wasn’t just the desire he wanted from her, it was everything.

His mouth gentled its assault. Instead of plundering, it became seeking, questing. Passion was tempered by tenderness, lust by love. What was a war of mouths, he now wanted to be a playground.

He drew back slightly, rested his forehead briefly against hers before moving in again to sip from her lips. He traced his cool tongue over her swollen mouth, teased a response from her. She didn’t disappoint. He thought he could feel her soft smile before she repeated his actions to him, he knew he felt her hot tongue lap at his bottom lip before she sucked it into her mouth and caressed it wetly.

Too soon it was over, and Spike raised his head to stare into her eyes. They shared shocked and moved expressions. She was practically wrapped around him, and Buffy felt a twinge of embarrassment at her wanton behavior. It wasn’t like her at all. And yet, on some level, it was. She smiled even as she untangled herself from him, a shy smile that he saw and appreciated.

Spike stepped back, his swirling emotions causing unnecessary panting, and tried to look busy straightening his clothes while in reality he was studying Buffy for her response.

Buffy didn’t know what to say. The kiss had been amazing but it complicated things. When they got back she would need to deal with whatever was going on between them. She’d handle it much better than she did last time, though. He deserved more than, “The only chance you had with me was when I was unconscious.” Especially because she didn’t believe that was quite the case any longer.

The problem was he loved her. Loved her so much, in fact, that when he was asked to suffer heaven, he did. Just to get her back. Sure, he hadn’t been real forthcoming with his reasons for agreeing to do it, but Buffy knew. There was only one thing it could be, after all. The Oracles might have had a higher purpose with all that world saving, but that wasn’t exactly Spike’s gig.

She could no longer deny she felt something for him, but love...well, that was a whole different, continent-sized, scary level altogether. Remember your history. Love and Buffy. Big un-mixy things.

Accepting love, not rejecting it, was all well and good. Participating in the sadistic spectator sport was another thing entirely. And something about that kiss told Buffy that Spike wouldn’t settle for less anymore. Okay, time to be denial girl for just a little longer. Let’s get home first, then we’ll deal with the radically sexy vampire.

“So,” Buffy finally said in a shaky voice, “I’m guessing now would be a good time to go home.” She turned to give her mom one more good-bye, only to notice that Joyce wasn’t there. She must have decided it was better to give the two some privacy during that soul-searing lip smack.

“Mom!” she called. “We’re getting ready to go!”

Joyce stepped out of the family room, a magazine in her hand and a knowing smile on her mouth. “I didn’t want to intrude, so I thought I’d hang out in there until you two were...done.”

Spike felt a trickle down his spine at the wording Joyce used. It reinforced his belief that she knew more than what she was telling.

The two Summers women gave each other one more hug, Joyce whispering supportive words and instructions to her daughter about Dawn and what she should do when she got back. The vampire could hear, but tried to ignore the private conversation out of a respect for Joyce.

“Okay, Bleach Boy, time to get home and redefine resurrection.” Buffy’s teasing voice pulled him out of his musings about what Joyce did and didn’t know. She reached over and pulled the front door open.

Suddenly, Spike realized that his time with her was truly over. He didn’t know how he knew; he just did. He knew that as soon as Buffy stepped out of the house she’d be gone. He tried to call out to her, got a hand part way up to hail her, just to have two more minutes with her. Before he got a word past his lips Buffy stepped over the threshold into the lightening day outside.

And disappeared.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Tara was terrified. She’d seen the merge of Willow’s aura with Spike’s and tried to stop it, tried to pull her back. It should have worked. The connection should have been severed quickly and cleanly.

There was too much magickal power, raw and unrefined, coursing through the link between Willow’s physical body and her mental one out in the nether realm. It couldn’t be budged. And what’s worse, Tara could sense the agony that Willow was in and there was nothing Tara could do about it.

She wasn’t strong enough.

Tara’s mental eyes watched in stunned disbelief as things grew worse. There was a flash of light, and suddenly a pulsing mass of energy was quickly approaching through the dark dimension. Oh Goddess. That was Willow’s essence, her last link to her own reality. There is nothing Tara knew of that could pull and essence from a witch and drag it into the nether realm. She had read stories about some witches, and how they had initiated such a break out of a desire to escape persecution in their lives. It wasn’t suicide, but it was close. They would continue to exist in energy form in the gaps between dimensions, no longer conscious or aware of what they used to be.

At first Tara feared that Willow’s agony was so great that she had made the conscious choice to join those poor sisters of light as an escape. She should have known better. The last feeling Tara got from Willow was complete surprise at seeing her essence join with the mixed auras. She hadn’t initiated it. It had just happened. But what could possibly have caused it?

She didn’t have time to ponder. As soon as Willow’s essence had incorporated with the auras, Tara felt the backlash of power snap down the length of her connecting link, severing it, cutting her loose from all that was left of Willow.

Tara’s mind screamed out at the pain of it before everything went black.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Xander and Anya had been in the family room, relaxing, watching television, waiting for Willow and Tara to complete their spell when the shrieking howl of wind and Giles’ harsh curse could be heard coming from the living room.

Xander looked at Anya. “I’d be surprised...if this was an alternate reality.”

She smiled wryly at him before leaping up and following him out the door.

Giles was holding Dawn back from charging into the room when Xander showed up at his side.

“What’s going on?” Xander had to yell to be heard over the increasing sound of the wind. When he saw the mini tornado, and made out Willow in its epicenter, his jaw dropped in stunned amazement. “Never mind. I don’t think I want to know.”

“Wow,” said Anya, impressed more than worried. “That’s a powerful spell. Is that an expected result?”

The two men shot her exasperated expressions, not bothering to respond. Giles handed Dawn off to Anya and stepped into the growing destruction of the room. He had to brace himself against the wind.

Giles wanted to get to Tara. She needed to break away from the spell so they could get some answers. He made his way carefully around the room, ducking flying debris and coming dangerously close to being conked over the head with some framed artwork that was lifted off the wall and sent his way.

The room seemed to react to his intrusion, focusing its swirling energy on lifting up anything and everything and sending it hurtling in his direction. He made it to Tara, barely, and was just about to grab her and yank her out of her induced trance when a bolt of electrical energy descended down from the ceiling and slammed into her. She was picked up bodily and thrown hard into Giles.

Xander, Anya, and Dawn watched in horror as the weight of the collision pushed Giles back into the fireplace. They could hear his head hit the stone with a sickly thud even over the roar of the wind. He fell to the ground with Tara sprawled across him. Neither one moved.

“Okay, I guess that means I’m going in,” said Xander, trying to sound confident but looking as scared and confused as he felt.

“Xander, no.” Dawn reached out and grabbed his arm before he headed in. “You saw what happened when Giles went in there, he was attacked purposely. Whatever that is swirling around Willow it doesn’t want us in there. If we go through the dining room, we’ll have a shorter distance to get to them and we might have a better chance of getting them out before we get smooshed.”

Xander studied her for a minute like he’d never seen her before. He couldn’t argue with her logic...not all of it anyway. “Good plan, Dawn, except for the ‘we’ part that includes you. Anya and I will be the we’s that go in, you stay here and warn us if anything looks like it wants to start a personal relationship with our insides, okay?”

Frustrated at being dismissed for being too young to help yet again, Dawn pursed her lips but nodded. Giles was in there, hurt or possibly worse (Dawn didn’t want to think of the worse part) and someone needed to get to him soon. There wasn’t time to argue.

Xander and Anya took off down the hallway to reach the dining room through the kitchen. As soon as they rounded the corner, Dawn turned back to the room. Gnawing on her bottom lip and going with pure gut instinct, she stepped in and headed quickly over to Giles.

She was by his side before the couple had a chance to make it to the other entryway. Feeling quickly for a pulse and being vastly relieved when she felt one, Dawn started in surprise when a very angry and worried Xander called out to her.

“Dawn! Get out of there!”

Dawn looked up and saw he was ready to come charging in after her. “No, Xander. Stay back! Look!” Dawn nodded her head to the room; the energy seemed to have taken no notice of the girl. Or it was purposely, mysteriously leaving her alone. “It’s fine. It doesn’t want to hurt me, but I don’t know - ”

She didn’t get a chance to finish, Xander saw that Dawn wasn’t being targeted and figured it was safe for him to go in. Two steps later he realized his mistake. The large picture window behind the couch imploded with a blast of tinkling glass, and sharp shards were tossed around the room like deadly clear projectiles. Several headed directly toward where the young man stood.

“Xander! NO!!” The call came from both Dawn and Anya, both of them screaming out a warning when they realized what was going to happen.

Xander froze; he couldn’t get himself to move. Next thing he knew he was tackled from behind. He fell hard, Anya yelling at him over the din in the room as he lay spread-eagle underneath her.

“That was not a good idea!” she practically screamed at him. “Last time I checked you were not impervious to lacerations, you know!”

He didn’t have time to defend his actions, the room had decided to empty the bookcase against the wall and they were both suffering the torment of thick, hardback books raining down on them.

“An, now’s not the time,” he managed to grunt out after taking a hard hit on the head. “Let’s get out of here, then you can yell at me all you want.”

“Fine, mister.” She crawled off him, keeping low, and waited for him to get to his hands and knees. “And don’t think I won’t take you up on that as soon as we’re no longer fleeing for our lives!”

Xander rolled his eyes, but followed her out of the room.

As soon as they got out the room quieted again - though quiet may be a bit of a misnomer. The energy in the room was still ignoring Dawn, who had turned her attention back to trying to get Giles to wake up. It took a couple of tense minutes, but she finally saw a telltale flutter of his eyelids when he started to come around. She didn’t want to upset the room again, and she had seen what it did to him before, so she leaned over and whispered in his ear.

“Giles. Can you hear me? I need you to wake up, Giles. Please wake up. We need you!”

She waited for a response but when he didn’t seem ready to give one she tried again. And again. Finally, on her fourth attempt he managed to moan a little.

“That’s it. Come on, Giles. You need to get up. Lying there is doing no one any good, but I guess I can understand, what with you being an old guy and all how you may not recover as fast as the rest of us.”

That got his attention and his eyes shot open, affronted at the implication he was old. “I will have you know, thank you very much, that I am not OLD!”

He turned his head, wincing at the pain from the wallop he took on the back of his skull, and saw the amusement glittering in her eyes, masking only slightly the very real worry she felt at him being hurt. He realized she was teasing him, goading him into a response, and he managed a weak, self-depreciating smile. “Remind me, won’t you, to give you the lecture on respecting your elders when this is all through.”

Dawn giggled, but rolled her eyes at him for effect. “Right, cuz that always worked so well on Buffy.” Then she got serious. “We need to get you and Tara out of here, but we need to be careful. The energy doesn’t seem to be interested in me, but Xander and Anya can’t come in and I’m afraid if it notices you it’ll go for you again.”

There seemed to be several things wrong with that statement, but Giles couldn’t quite make his mind connect to what they were. In truth, he was still addled by the knock on the head. It was somewhat humiliating, relying on a soon-to-be fifteen year old to get him to safety, but Giles was left with little choice.

“Could you do me a favor, Dawn, and help me move Tara off of my chest. It’s a bit hard to breathe.”

They managed to get Tara shifted, and Dawn told Giles what she thought they could do to get them all out safely.

“If you can pull Tara out, I’ll stand guard, make sure nothing comes at you while you go. Try to stay low, though. Crawling is best.”

It was Giles’ turn to roll his eyes and he pursed his lips in the bargain. “Stay low, she says. Right. We’ll just have to do that.”

Dawn stood and turned her attention to the room, looking for any signs that might indicate another attack. She heard Giles moving behind her and finally caught Tara’s prone body moving out of her line of vision as Giles pulled her to safety. The energy in the room did respond, but every time it tried to toss something Giles’ way Dawn would step into the line of fire (squeezing her eyes shut each time just in case she’d been wrong) and the objects would drop harmlessly to the ground.

There was no longer any doubt in the matter, the energy was consciously avoiding causing any injury to Dawn.

Giles had been watching as he moved on his knees, shuffling backwards and pulling Tara along while he went. It didn’t make any kind of rational sense. Why would the energy target everyone but Dawn? No answer was forthcoming, but he did manage to get Tara and himself to safety.

Dawn backed out of the room and shut the sliding wooden doors behind her, closing out some of the noise. When she turned around, there were three very confused adults staring at her in trepidation and curiosity.

“What?”

~*~*~*~*~*~

She was naught but a speck of gravel at the bottom of Niagara Falls, tossed and flipped and rolled by the torrent of emotions so immense that any attempt to separate them out, dissect them, would be as futile as turning the waters of the falls back and making it flow upwards.

She was a pawn, an actor in his play, and the smallest shred of Willow’s individuality - the only shred left - wailed for the creature that could not do it himself. She was carried along on the eddy of his aura trail, her senses - his senses - screaming out shrieks of diamond hard facts. It was almost like watching a movie while feeling everything the actors feel - if the movie was about nothing more than pain, death, and agony.

Loss, she’d been able to pick up on the loss. Probably because it permeated every other emotion and was by far the strongest. Heartbreaking, heart wrenching loss. The loss of a love, the loss of a life, the loss of responsibilities, the loss of self. Every imaginable type of loss was crippling him - her - along the way. And it was so dark, what was left of Willow’s mind couldn’t understand why it was so dark.

And then it wasn’t, and the hatred and rage - a vicious, feral rage - sliced into her. She wanted to kill, to tear apart flesh with her fangs. And the red demon in front of her...no, wait...blue demon in front of her was the target of all of that rage. And still there was loss, choking and suffocating loss. It fueled the fury, volcanic in its ferocity.

But the trail continued. Confusion, snippets of human looking creatures with really bad skin - no, painted? - And what was that...hope? Stripped away before it could take hold. Clarity - there was a moment of clarity - she felt that. Bitter despair swallowed that and hopelessness soon followed. She wished she could hear...wished she could really see more than snippets through the haze his emotions cast. It was all so blurry.

Oh God. No! Anguish, gaping, bleeding anguish and again rage. Something they said - those colored creatures - sent a dagger of pure horror and disgust through her heart and she wanted to shove their words, whatever they had been, back down their throats. And rip out their lungs while she did it so they could never do it again.

Still the loss was there, and it haunted her - a lonely wolf’s howl on a moonlit night, a banshee wail across the Scottish moor, the baying of hellhounds out for blood.

Boredom for a brief second, confusion too, disbelief, crazed hysteria tinged with resignation and sorrow so remarkably poignant it would make the gods weep. But no tears were shed, he had at some point accepted his loss - only to have that acceptance torn from him - her - and swallowed whole by a gapping maw of reality. She saw what it was, it was the only clear picture she’d seen so far, and it was hellish. She didn’t understand but felt that he did, fury fell away to misery borne out of a new type of responsibility.

Willow didn’t understand, she just felt, she was nothing but his feelings. Terror - oh, God the terror - and vile contempt for these creatures of destruction and desolation.

She sunk deeper into the pit, lost a little more self as the journey continued. Rage, hatred, anger, fear, loss, disillusionment, sorrow, anguish, torment, responsibility. Gasping, grasping for any escape from the swell.

And then she arrived. Where it should have begun. A lifted veil, a hidey-hole of cursed treasure, a maze and a Minataur. The realm. Seen through his eyes and felt through his feelings it was finally clear. Those creatures were punishing him, had to be. Why he was so accepting of it was only for his mind to know, his emotions shed little light on reason. A barren wasteland of toxic spewage, noxious nastiness, and craggy, unforgiving landscape. Knowing fear and torture lay beyond and willing to step in.

Willow’s mind, what was left of it, saw what Spike had seen just before the walls closed and the trail ended and was horrified in her own right.

It was more than hellish. It was hell.