Spike stood for long minutes and stared at the space where Buffy last stood. It was over, all of it, and the emptiness he was feeling left no room for anything else. He was a dead shell, a husk of a monster who had reached the end of a journey only to find nothing but a gray blankness humming in his chest. He couldn’t even find it within himself to grieve.

All of his emotions had been used up. Spent on a responsibility to a place that he would never see again, spent on a girl he had loved too deeply to forget. Now that she was gone, returned to the world in which she belonged, all he could do was stare at the place of her passing.

When Spike had seen Buffy’s body lying broken and dead in the construction site after the fight with Glory he had been ripped apart. It had been the most painful experience in his existence. He grieved for her then, and for Dawn, and for himself too. He had crumbled, sobbing out his anguish because he had lost the one person that shed light on his unlife and he had thought he lost the sister he had sworn to protect as well.

It wasn’t until the death of one that he realized just how much he loved the other. A brotherly, protective love the likes of which he’d never known before.

Then he’d been drawn into this Shakespearean tragedy and had focused on the joy of seeing the fallen one again to survive. And it had been joyful, and twistingly painful, and grotesquely macabre. He’d forgotten, in the interim, that there would be an ‘after’. He’d allowed himself to forget - to completely disregard - that he had willingly embraced a path that would repeat in agonizing detail the most painful event of his life. He’d lost Buffy twice.

You would think that he’d feel something at the new loss but he was completely numb to everything but the gray hum vibrating through the walls of his dead chest. Spike couldn’t even find it within himself to care that he had just punched his ticket for the next outbound train from heaven, and the destination was a lot less pleasant than Buffy’s had been.

He found himself standing at the open doorway, staring up at the blood-red sky, not even aware that he’d stepped forward. Oddly fascinated at what he saw, a sight that should strike fear in his heart but didn’t, he watched in grim wonder as the sickly yellow storm clouds massed on the horizon. Instead of rolling in from one direction, however, he could see them bubbling and frothing, advancing from every side. He was surrounded and he knew it and he didn’t care.

There would be no escape and he just had nothing left inside him to care.

The weight of the eyes that had been weighing him for so long were gone. They had blinked off as soon as Buffy stepped through the door. It was a release from the physical torment, but so what? What difference would a little searing agony make in the grand scheme of things? Spike felt almost robbed of the sensation, cheated from even that much pain because he wanted pain, he wanted to feel something, anything, and couldn’t. He would gladly be the masochistic pincushion for a little while longer just to be able to have something to feel. He felt he owed her that much.

“You didn’t tell her you weren’t going back.”

The voice that came from behind him was a surprise and he jumped slightly at the foreign sound. He had forgotten he wasn’t alone.

Spike sensed Joyce move closer, knew she was standing right behind him, close enough to touch. He might have sighed at the interruption of his thoughts if he cared. It wasn’t a question, but he had to say something. There was only resignation in his voice as he responded.

“No.”

“May I ask why?”

He heard the curiosity in her voice. And the gentle concern that had always been there for the demon he was, even before he’d done anything remotely deserving of it.

“No.”

Spike winced slightly at the abruptness in his tone. This was Joyce, Buffy’s mum. She didn’t deserve that kind of treatment. She didn’t deserve to be punished with his apathy - that was his burden to bear. Without turning away from the growing maelstrom in the sky, he tried to put into words what were now only memories of emotion.

“Have you ever loved somethin’ so much that it consumed you? Burned you? Ate you alive while you stood in horror, unable to stop it and knowin’ - even if you could stop it - you wouldn’t?”

Spike’s words shook under the pressure of such bleak honesty. He wanted to - needed to - purge himself of the truth about himself. A truth that he would have been at a loss to explain to anyone except this one woman, this kind soul behind him. She was probably the only person that would listen and not judge, not be tainted by the memories of what he was and how truly absurd his feelings had been for a vampire. It was a truth he had hidden for too long. Hidden because he didn’t understand it and it frightened him.

“Have you ever loved somethin’, someone, so intensely that the power of it strips away everythin’ you are, changes you utterly, fills you up and spits you out a different person, a better person than you ever thought you could be, than you ever wanted to be? A little cleaner, a little more whole.”

He had told Buffy...told her, that was such a weak euphemism...he had proclaimed in a loud voice more than once that vampires were capable of loving without a soul. It was true, they could. But he hadn’t wanted to admit that the kind of love that vampires felt, that any creature without a soul felt, was really just a pale comparison to the emotions humans were capable of. Basically because the absence of a soul had a tendency to foster selfishness, and that took up too much space for blinding love to take hold.

“Have you ever had love drag you kickin’ and screamin’ down a path that is so far off from what you’re very nature demands you follow, that you wake up one day and find yourself taking on heaven itself to right wrongs that you had no hand in creatin’, will reap no benefit in rightin’, just because of the effect that love has on you?”

He hadn’t wanted to explain because he didn’t know how to even try to convince Buffy that he was different. Since meeting the other he’d been different. He never knew why, but it was against everything that was in him to care much for the whys. Spike just accepted it, knowing he could never tell her because she would never believe it without either proof or a damn good reason. He had neither to offer. Where Spike accepted, Buffy questioned - that was her nature. She denied anything that smacked of absurdity without a logical explanation and he couldn’t give her one. What would he say?

“A love so vital, that has become such a part of you, that you would do anything...kill - or not kill as the case may be - even die to ensure it survives. That love itself survives.”

And that was the horrible truth he had kept hidden from everyone, even himself at times. The love he felt was a pure, selfless love. It was a love he shouldn’t be able to feel. He was a monster; that kind of love was supposed to be denied to him. It hadn’t started out that way - that was true enough - but that’s how it ended up. Spike didn’t know why, didn’t care how, but it had dictated his actions for too long to be ignored further. That’s why he never told Buffy he wouldn’t be going back. She wouldn’t have understood. She wouldn’t have believed.

“Oh, Spike,” Joyce whispered, a sad and understanding look on her face. “You loved her that much?”

Spike chuckled with a complete absence of amusement. “Not her.”

He turned away from the doorway, twisting his head slightly to meet Joyce’s eyes, and knew she was weighing him just as the watching eyes in this realm had weighed him. The ugly truth needed to be finished. Because in the end, when the play had run its course, he realized it was no longer just about one anymore.

“Not her, mum. Them. Both of them. Sisters. Taken together, apart, makes no matter to my dead heart. It’s both of them, each of them.” Spike laughed wryly at how little sense he was making, and how big an ass he must seem.

“Apparently,” he said sardonically, “I have a weakness for the Summers ladies. Must be the genes - could be the jeans, too, though.”

Joyce reached a hand out and brushed it gently down his gaunt cheek. There were tears in her eyes and she gave him a watery smile. Spike was floored when she leaned forward and brushed a very motherly kiss to his forehead.

A shock wave of searing emotion poured over him, hitting Spike like an avalanche. He staggered a little at the weight of it. Pain, blinding and freezing pain lodged like an arrow in his chest and spilled through him. He gasped at the agony, the clutching sorrow, the fear and self-doubt, the loss - oh God, the loss! A sob was wrenched painfully from his chest and he doubled over, tears falling freely as he grabbed at his stomach, his chest. He was a blade of grass in a tornado of feeling, swept away, spinning crazily - out of control and unable to speak through the horror of it all.

He’d never been more grateful for any gift.

Joyce had given it all back to him, brought his emotions back to him with her gentle kiss. He could finally grieve for everything he had been through and everything she had yet to go through. He could weep for Dawn, his sweet little Nibblet, and the anguish of not getting to say good-bye. He bayed at the bloody sky for Buffy, for what could have been, what should never have been able to be but was. The undiluted love of an eternity.

It took minutes, a lot of them, but the swell finally receded enough for Spike to gain control again. He noticed he was sitting on the floor in the doorway, knees drawn up to his chest and cheeks wet with salty tears. He used clenched fists to wipe them away and forced air into his dead lungs for balance.

Spike’s eyes searched out Joyce’s. There was only tenderness and acceptance in them and it soothed him as he said, “Thank you.”

She knew what he was thanking her for and she smiled slightly and lowered her head a bit in a slow nod.

He dragged himself to his feet and composed himself, staring out at the fast approaching storm while he straightened his duster around him. Watching him, Joyce smiled. It was almost as if he was cloaking himself with Spikeness - and that was too amusing, given the circumstances.

“You could have told her,” she finally said. “At least let her know.”

Spike smiled, actually smiled at the mothering instinct of the woman he considered more than a friend.

He didn’t turn from the sky.

“There comes a time, Joyce, when you want something so badly, need something so desperately that when you get your chance to see if you just might be lucky enough to get it, you step back. Shy away from the knowin’. The need is so huge that even the thought of it not being there, even if you get what you want, is too terrifying to risk giving it up. Because what would you have left?”

“Peace.”

Spike practically barked in amusement. “Yeah. Right. Peace. You want to know what that need of mine is? That desperate desire? Just to know that it mattered. That I mattered. That what I did in comin’ here mattered to her. How’s that for selfish? The only thing I have left is that need. The need to know that maybe I finally got it right. I don’t mind being bad, mum, hell it’s too much bloody fun. But I’d like to know if what I did was enough - enough to let her see the man first, instead of the fang.”

“So, why didn’t you?”

“Because if it wasn’t enough, if the sacrifice wouldn’t have mattered to her, I’d lose everything. Even the dream of the possibility. And then there’s the other. The tragic comedy that’s the other. What if it was enough, what then? Well, that would be worse, wouldn’t it? Because my bleedin’ gift had already been given. Her life for mine. Nothin’ to do ‘bout that. Game over, top scores for Spike. And if it mattered, she’d hurt, and I don’t want to be responsible for any more of her pain.”

Joyce stared with compassion at the back of the man who cared more about her daughter’s pain then his own anguish. What monster is this, she thought, that could give so much for so little?

The wind picked up, drawing his duster back to flap against the open door. Spike knew it was time. He couldn’t hide in here forever, and he didn’t know if the realm would take pity on the house in its zeal to remove him from its purview. Lightning cracked its blinding fury just beyond the porch and Spike turned and gave a cocky smile to Joyce.

“That would be my chariot, I believe. Best be gettin’ out of here so’s not to disturb your fine furnishin’s. It’s been quite a ride, though, got to say.”

He gave in to his impulses and stepped over to Joyce, wrapping his arms around her and hugging her tightly to him. She was surprised but flattered. He pulled back a bit and met her eyes.

“When you see them again, tell ‘em...tell ‘em I’d do it again. All of it. I don’t regret any of it. It was a damn good time they gave me. Tell ‘em I said thanks.”

Spike swung out of Joyce’s arms, the duster billowing out behind him as he strode out the door. He leapt off the top step and landed gracefully, turning briefly to flash a dashing, arrogant grin at her. There was confidence in his wide legged stance, and he felt the heady feeling of that old confrontational side of himself. Just to be difficult, he slapped his game face on. If the realm was going to destroy him, better it be well known just who and what it was destroying.

He yelled into the rising wind. “Alright, you sod, here I am! One Spike-sized morsel for you to do with what you will. Let’s get on with it then, shall we? ‘Cuz I’m startin’ to get bloody bored with all this hype. Start the bleedin’ show already!”

The ground trembled beneath him and he felt a pulling sensation, the landscape around him spun and blurred in front of his eyes. An odd feeling of vertigo overwhelmed him before everything went dark.

The vampire disappeared from the yard in front of the Summers’ house in heaven.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Giles and Xander had carried the unconscious Tara through the dining room and down the hall to the family room. Anya grabbed a damp cloth and some first aid for Giles’ head out of the bathroom and Dawn stopped to close the doors to both rooms, cutting the sound considerably and preventing any potential damage from escaping into the rest of the house.

“Ow.” Giles winced in pain as Anya pressed hard - again - on the growing lump on the back of his head. “Bloody hell, Anya. It’s a head wound, not a spot on the counter that needs to be rubbed clean. Do you think you could go a little easier please?”

Anya sighed and tried to go easier, “Big baby.”

Giles spun around and glared at the girl. “I heard that!” He looked over at Dawn, who was wiping Tara’s forehead with the damp cloth. “Dawn, would you please come here and take over? I’m afraid I might not survive Anya the Hun’s idea of nursing.”

Anya’s, “HEY!” was drowned out by the choked laughter from Xander and Dawn. Dawn handed off the cloth to Anya as she stormed by in a huff.

Xander looked over at Giles, a question in his eyes, “Okay, Giles, you want to fill us in on the Dorothy and Toto gig you got going on in the living room? ‘Cuz I’m thinking...mini tornado? Not the best way to redecorate.”

“I’m afraid I really have no idea. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. I’m assuming that it has something to do with the merging spell, but as for specifics...well, I was hoping Tara would be of some help. How is she?”

Anya looked down at the witch, “She appears to still be unconscious, but her heartbeat is good and she’s not as pale as she was at first. It’s very doubtful she’ll die.”

Giving Anya little more than a quick grimace at her less than tactful description, Giles said, “I believe Willow may have been overwhelmed by the merging, what we’re seeing may be a manifestation of the emotions she’s suffering. Her...power...her magicks, they may be reacting to it in some way. It’s Willow, but – ”

“Not...Willow.” Tara’s soft voice broke in, interrupting the Watcher. Giles got out of his chair and Dawn followed him over to stare down tenderly at the frazzled and tired looking - but thankfully conscious - girl.

Tara hadn’t opened her eyes, but she had heard the conversation going on over her head and needed to tell them. She felt so strange. Drained and exhausted. “Not Willow,” she said again, stronger this time.

“Tara,” Giles coaxed calmly, “can you tell us what happened? Can you tell us about the energy vortex in the living room?”

Lifting a lead-filled arm to shield her eyes from the brightness in the room, Tara tried to peek at her hovering friends. She gave Dawn a grateful smile when she quickly moved to switch off the lamp closest to her. Struggling up into a sitting position with Xander’s help she pressed the heel of her hand to her aching head.

“The spell...something went wrong.”

“Kind of the master of understatement there, Tara.” Xander felt Dawn’s sharp elbow poke him in the side while he was being pinned by Giles disapproving glare. He shrugged self-consciously. “Don’t mind me, just doin’ that whole talking with my mind blank thing again. Continue.”

“Everything was fine at first, Willow and I made it to the nether realm - just like always. Her aura separated and went across. I had established the link, we were connected. I think she tried to direct her aura down the path, but it didn’t want to move. Then I saw it turn and head to the start of Spike’s trail. It merged with his aura before Willow could stop it. I felt her fear. She was so scared. I-I t-tried to p-pull her out. T-tried to use the l-link. There was too much power, then her essence got separated from her body and sucked in, too. It joined the auras. That’s when the power back lashed on me and the next thing I know I’m here.”

She raised her large sad eyes to Giles’ stunned ones as the implications of her words sunk in. “It’s not Willow in there, Giles, Willow’s gone.”

Xander didn’t understand. He had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, but he didn’t understand what Tara was saying. “Wait. What do you mean, gone? She’s in there. Sure, she’s surrounded by a spinning wall of drafty badness, but she’s not gone.”

Giles spoke to Xander in a serious tone without breaking Tara’s gaze. “There are three things that connect a person to their body, their mind, their essence - some call it a soul - and their aura. What Tara means is that all three of those things in Willow are now in the nether realm and there is no longer anything connecting her to her body. For all intents and purposes, Willow is gone.”

It was a while before anyone spoke, the gravity of the situation hanging like a thick cloud of smoke around all of them.

“So,” Dawn said, frightened at everyone’s expressions but in no way ready just to give up so easily, “how do we get her back?”

“I’m not sure we can at this moment, Dawn,” Giles explained reluctantly. “One of us, Tara presumably as she is the only one of us with formal Wicca training, will need to go into the room and try to link with Willow again. The problem is that we can’t get in there. The energy - probably the magickal power that Willow commands which is currently without focus - is defending itself against intrusion.”

“Not against me.”

Giles realized what she was offering and looked at her, horror at the suggestion plain on his face. “No Dawn. You mustn’t. We don’t even know why you weren’t targeted, why Willow’s magick avoided harming you. There’s no way to be sure it wouldn’t change its mind if you were in there alone. And you know nothing about the steps that would need to be taken to get her back. I refuse to risk losing you - or anyone else. We need to do more research - “

“Research?” Dawn crossed her hands over her chest and stared hard at him. “Fine. You do research while the energy drains Willow until she dies. ‘Cuz that’s what’s happening, right? The energy in that room is feeding off of her. Using her while she can’t do anything to stop it.”

The Watcher stared down at the ground, took off his glasses with a tired hand and nodded. “Yes. That’s what is probably happening.”

Dawn’s mind spun as she tried to figure out what to do. Suddenly she was hit with an idea and she blurted out excitedly the first thing that popped into her head. “Spike!”

Four glum adults stared blankly at the smiling girl. She sighed. Man, adults never follow the logic bit, ya know?

“Giles, if Willow’s gone, and there’s no connection anymore between her and her body, then something or someone else has to be responsible for the personalized attacks that you all got when you entered the room, right? No control equals random fire. But it wasn’t random. You all saw it. It left me completely alone, even seemed to be protecting me from getting hurt when you were getting Tara out. It wanted to get to you, but it didn’t want to risk hurting me. That strike anyone else but me as a tad bit non-coincidental?”

Xander glanced at Giles, who was frowning in concentration and didn’t look ready to jump in with any of his pointed questions. That left Xander to ask some of his own. “I’m following so far...but what does the disappeared Evil Dead have to do with any of that?”

Dawn pinned him with a look but didn’t have time to reprimand him for his continued gibes on the vampire. “I’m saying that Willow might be gone, but there’s something - some connection - left. Something we don’t know about. And I think that something is Spike. Think about it. It’s got to be something, and it’s not Willow or it wouldn’t have targeted any of you. Or if it had, it would have had no reason to leave me alone. Spike is the only other answer. When Willow merged with his aura, and her essence came out, something must have slid back along the flow - something of Spike, a memory of emotion, whatever. Spike would never hurt me. Not even subconsciously. But if he’s in protection mode, he may view all of you as a threat. Especially if he knew...”

Dawn didn’t want to bring up the memory of the night her sister died, but she had to make them all understand what Spike’s mindset had been the night he was taken. Because she knew, if Willow connected with Spike’s trail at the beginning instead of the end, then the past month would be as if it never happened for him.

“Especially if he knew you were all ready to kill me the night we fought Glory.”

No one spoke. None of them could look at her. They understood what she was saying and it made sense. So much time had passed, Spike had been gone for so long, that the memory of his disappearance seemed to have separated itself from the events leading up to it. Especially seeing as though there was no known connection between what happened with Glory and what happened to Spike. But Dawn was right, if anything of Spike slipped back along the connecting stream between Willow and the nether realm, it would be the earliest memories and emotions from the time right after he was taken. The night Buffy died and the night he tried everything he could to save Dawn. It explained quite a lot of the reactions of the energy vortex.

Giles’ mind was spinning, and not just because of that nasty bump on his head. Dawn was really rather intelligent. She saw things differently than the rest of them; she was very bright and willing to add her opinions to the group. It could be disconcerting, when one realized just how much she paid attention to - just how much she saw. It wasn’t normal for a girl of her age to be so not self-involved. And it reminded him so much of Buffy in Slayer mode he almost couldn’t speak. Except Buffy had her normal teen mode, too. Dawn was like this all the time. It was positively scary.

“Alright,” he said slowly, trying to make his mind form around a plan, “so we’re going on the assumption that the energy vortex is being controlled in some unconscious way by the emotions and memories that would be contained in Spike’s aura trail at the moment of his capture. That would lead me to believe that some connection - however slight - still exists between Willow and her body. If we can get in there, one of us should be able to follow that link just by coming in contact with Willow. Dawn, I know you think it should be you - but someone will need to work to separate the aura’s and bring Willow back into herself so that she can gain control of her power and drag herself back. I still believe Tara would be the best choice. And there’s one other thing, Dawn. Something I hesitate to bring up, but it must be said. You are The Key. Energy created for opening dimensional doors. I have no idea what would happen - if anything did - if you went into another realm.”

Dawn knew that was coming and didn’t say anything. She felt the tears welling in her eyes, but seeing as though no one could look her in the face, hiding them wasn’t going to be a problem. They didn’t think she could do it. What’s more, they were afraid to try because of what was inside her. But this was not a bloodletting ritual and she was not just a key. She was human. She was made from her sister. Some part of her knew - really knew - that being The Key was no longer an issue. It was not something to be afraid of. It just didn’t matter anymore.

And they also didn’t think she was strong enough to be able to get Willow to separate a bit from Spike’s aura. She thought they were probably right about that. But she also believed something else that they hadn’t taken into consideration. She didn’t need to.

Willow didn’t need to be separated from Spike’s aura if Spike’s aura could be persuaded to let go of Willow a little bit. And there was nothing Dawn believed more than she was the only person that could get that done. If Willow could pull away from the lessened draw from Spike, she could get that control back that Giles mentioned and could get both of them out of there.

And hopefully Willow had made it to the end of Spike’s trail and seen where he went because nothing that had happened so far could dissuade Dawn from giving up on her quest to get Spike back. Nothing ever could.

The group still hadn’t looked at her, they were talking amongst themselves. No one noticed the determined glint in her eyes or the way she squared her shoulders and raised her chin a little in defiance of the dictates set down by Giles. Dictates she had no intention of following.

Backing up from the group slowly, making sure no one noticed her withdrawal, Dawn edged to the back of the room. She was halfway to the door before Xander looked up, surprised, and met her steady gaze.

Dawn, not caring what he was going to say, turned quickly and ran to the door, throwing it open and crossing the hall in four fast steps.

“Dawn, NO!!” Xander’s frantic call got everyone’s attention and they rushed after the fleeing girl.

They weren’t fast enough. Dawn had flung open the doors to the living room and got well inside before they had a chance to catch her. Xander tried to run after her, but the energy in the room picked him up and tossed him back out as if he weighed no more than a bag of flour.

Dawn didn’t even look back before she entered the vortex spinning tightly around Willow’s body. She took a deep breath, knelt down next to her, and reached out her hand.

Grabbing Willow’s clenched fist with her own, Dawn felt the strange pull at her mind and she gave herself over to it. I’m coming in, Spike. Show me where Willow is.

It was her last conscious thought on this side before her mind was separated from her body and drawn into the nether realm.

She hadn’t felt a thing. It had been just that fast. One minute Buffy was walking through her front door, stepping onto the porch, the next she was standing in an echo chamber of a room - black stone under her feet and marble walls and pillars around her.

Disoriented at the sudden shift of locales if not at the shift itself, Buffy spun around quickly, checking out her surroundings. Like a thick velvet cloak settling comfortably around her shoulders, the Slayer came forth, wrapping around and through her body with soothing warmth, altering her stance and increasing her senses to their maximum limits. It felt different somehow, this gathering of her power, but Buffy was too concerned with trying to figure out what the hell just happened to spend time trying to identify the difference.

That’s when she noticed her clothing had changed. Gone were the shorts and halter-top she’d been wearing in the other realm, replaced by a pair of gray, loose-fitting pants and a white, long-sleeved and high-collared light sweater. It was a familiar outfit. It was the outfit she wore the night she fought Glory. The night she died.

She worked her way around one of the ceiling-high marble pillars and caught sight of a staircase in the back of the room leading up to a domed archway. A domed archway that appeared to lead nowhere. She looked around nervously and realized there wasn’t a single door or window in the room. She got in, but she had no clue how to get out.

Something about the place tugged at her mind, something familiar about the architecture and décor. What was it?

Shrugging the feeling away, she carefully started to investigate the room. There had to be a way out of there, some hidden door or passageway. She just needed to find it.

“Welcome, Slayer.”

The feminine voice spun Buffy around and her eyes searched wildly for the person responsible for the hail. She found them. Standing at the top of the staircase, a place that had been empty not more than a minute earlier, were two...beings. Coiffed and dressed in full Roman regalia from their hairstyles to their togas to their sandaled feet were a man and a woman...of sorts…who appeared to be having some serious skin issues. They were green. And gold.

That’s when it hit her. Oracles. These were the Oracles. The ancient Rome motif, the skin color. Spike had told her, but at the time she’d been too angry and disgusted with him to pay close attention to the details. These were the entities that sent Spike into heaven to get her.

Oh man, I am so gonna stake that vampire. He could have mentioned that the trip back wasn’t going to be a direct flight for the one of us that’s me. A head’s up about the nifty layover should have been considered need to know information.

As irritated as she was that Spike had been less than completely forthcoming about this neat little addendum to the ‘coming back from the dead’ plan, her Slayer sense relaxed. It was as if, of its own volition, the velvet cloak that was her power gently pulled itself back from her, sliding away and rolling up until it was truly needed. Again, it was a...different feeling, not uncomfortable, but Buffy didn’t take the time to question it.

If these were the creatures responsible for bringing her back it was doubtful they intended her any harm. Her body lost that battle-ready look and she walked to the bottom of the stairs, peering up at them with unveiled curiosity.

“Sister, do you see her?” The brother had studied the switch from Slayer mode to full Buffy and he was at a loss. This was unexpected to say the least.

His sister was equally surprised at what she was picking up, not only from the change, but from the girl’s thoughts as well. Her mind speech was hushed in wonder. “I see her, brother. She is evolved. The realm...it changed her. This is no longer just the Slayer in front of us. She truly is The Chosen One. The Keeper of the Balance.”

There was no arguing with what they had both seen. Buffy had changed. She was, in fact, balanced. For the first time in over a millennium, a Slayer had reached the pinnacle of her abilities. And much sooner than they had anticipated, for it had been foreseen that this girl, this Chosen One would reach that lofty goal. That was why it was necessary to bring her back. Her journey had not yet begun before she died, not truly, and now it had. Much sooner than expected.

“But what of the other trials?” The brother reached out his mind and questioned his sister. “This change was to be seen much later in her development.”

He felt the mental shrug his sister gave him. “The events will still occur, but they will no longer be trials. They will evolve as she has. And brother,” the mental brush took on an amused edge, “you said it yourself. She has always been unpredictable. The realm is unknown to us, beyond our purview. Not even the Powers could tell us what affect a return would have on an individual. Her unpredictability combined with the realm itself has produced an unexpected but promising result.”

The brother heard an almost avaricious lilt in his sister’s mental voice and felt a twinge of something akin to trepidation. He buried it deeply to prevent her from picking up on it.

Of the two of them, the brother had always been more sympathetic to an individual’s plight. He was more gregarious by nature, not as affected by duty and responsibility as the powerful entity next to him. And he sincerely hoped that what he picked up on was not an indication that his sister had gotten the idea to send all future Slayers into the realm this Slayer had just escaped from as a test. This Slayer was unique. It would not bode well for the future of the universe if his sister was under the mistaken impression that what one could do, they all could do.

When he turned his attention back to the girl at the bottom of the stairs he was a little embarrassed to find that she was no longer at the bottom of the stairs. In fact, she’d climbed said stairs and was standing right in front of him.

“Hi there,” Buffy said. “Remember me? Chosen One? Recently deceased? I was just wondering if you and your friend were going to stand there for much longer, doing...whatever it was you were doing that wasn’t sending me home. Not that I’m trying to be impatient girl, here.”

Buffy grinned at the slightly surprised expression on the male’s face. She really felt quite good, now that she knew where she was. “Okay, so maybe I am. What can I say? Got people to see and balance to keep. And I’m guessing you didn’t bring me here to admire the wicked impressive job the tattoo artist did on both of you, so if we could get on with this, I’d appreciate it.”

“Impertinent little thing, isn’t she?” The brother winced slightly at the sharp tone in his sister’s mental voice. He ignored her.

“Of course,” he said instead to Buffy, who was standing with her hands at her hips, looking at them a touch less than patiently. “We apologize. You have been brought here in preparation of the return to your dimension.”

“It was also necessary,” the sister added, “as we were unable to remove you ourselves from the realm you just left. Now that you are here, however, we can send you the rest of the way.”

“You will be returned to your body at a time shortly following your fall from the tower.” The brother smiled slightly as Buffy’s head swung back and forth between him and his sister as they spoke.

The sister finished with, “And the Powers will restore you.”

Buffy nodded, in seeming agreement with the plan. Anything that got her back to her sister and friends was to be placed squarely in the ‘let’s do it, then’ category.

“Well,” she said, “that explains the Jetson’s job you did on my clothes, right? Can’t go back looking all out of place...or time...or whatever.”

She noticed that the pair was staring at her like she’d suddenly started speaking Latin or something and realized they didn’t get the reference. “Jetson’s...you know...cartoon? Presto-chango on the wardrobe deal? They - ”

She broke off, they just weren’t getting it. “You know what? Never mind. So not important. I’m ready whenever you are.”

The sister raised one delicately arched brow and nodded at her. And then, just because it had irritated her, she said, “We are not tattooed, actually. This is our natural coloring. And we are not just ‘friends’. We are siblings, twins.”

Buffy grinned sheepishly and shrugged a little. “Sorry. No offense.”

She looked at the pair expectantly, and the sister closed her eyes and pressed her palms together to focus her energy. Just as she was about to send the girl to her own realm, the sister heard Buffy call out to her.

“Wait!”

The Oracle sighed and opened her eyes slowly to stare at the Slayer. The brother caught several of the mildly unflattering comments that slid through his sister’s mind and had to stop himself from grinning. Both the Slayer and the vampire had stretched the limits of his sister’s patience to no end, and he was enough of a brother to be more than just a bit amused at how quickly and easily they had done it.

“What is it, Slayer?” the sister asked, veiled frustration in her voice.

Buffy winced a little mentally. There weren’t a whole lot of fluffy happy feelings in that question. “Well, I was just wondering...I mean, I’m here and all...and you’re the ones that called me back...so you’re probably the one’s I should ask...”

The sister sighed, actually sighed visibly at her ramblings. “Are you quite certain we were not mistaken, brother? Because this child does not seem capable of finishing a sentence, much less saving the world from plunging into eternal darkness.”

The brother couldn’t help it, he laughed out loud in delight at his sister’s frustration. It was too delicious not to. She shot him an irritated glare as Buffy looked at him in surprise. “She is the one and you know it, sister. And I believe she may have a question.”

As soon as the male laughed, at nothing apparently, Buffy remembered what else Spike had told her about them. They communicated mentally. That’s a little ruder than two all-knowing entities should be, don’t you think?

The male grinned at her expression, which was currently mirroring his sister’s irritated one. “I will apologize for the laughter, Slayer. I am afraid I cannot apologize for communicating mentally. That is what we do. It is a part of what we are. You cannot blame us for that any more than you can blame a bird for flying or the wind for blowing. It is our nature.”

As soon as Buffy heard the male’s voice in her head her eyes had gone wide in amazement. And for some reason what he said made her think of Spike. She didn’t know why.

“You had a question I believe?” The serious voice of the sister brought everyone back to the matter at hand.

“Right,” Buffy muttered, momentarily losing her previous train of thought. It came back to her. “Yeah. Question. I was curious about one thing - ”

“Only one, how surprising.” This time the brother managed to stifle the laughter at his sister’s thoughts.

“I mean, Spike explained why you needed me to go back. Some big evil brewing on the horizon that only I can stop - got that part. Same old, same old there. But that whole ‘Keeper of the Balance’ thing? Not that it doesn’t sound nice - it does. I was just wondering what I’m keeping in balance exactly? Is it me? Is it the world?”

If it was possible for the sister to look any further down her nose at the Slayer than she had been, she did. “Yes.”

The brother saw the slightly affronted look on Buffy’s face and cursed his sister mentally - and silently. Her attitude could lead them into trouble if it continued. He tried to steer the conversation onto safer ground.

“Your balance is what will help you maintain the balance in the world. You are the Chosen One. That is why it is necessary for you to go back. Balance is everything, it must be maintained. The Forces of Light and the Forces of Dark have struggled for supremacy since the beginning of time. Each side wanting to claim victory, neither side willing to concede that in victory there is only defeat. They must stay in balance. Only when there are no victors is the battle won.”

Buffy listened and sighed. Oh yeah, really done with that whole mysterious ‘guide-speak’ thing - which is right up there with the ‘I may as well be speaking in tongues’ speak. What is that, anyway? Do all mystical types have some big grudge against the sense making? They have some ancient rulebook of confusion they have to abide by?

“That was very helpful,” she said out loud to the male, “in a not so much kind of way.”

He smiled sympathetically. “All will be revealed in good time.”

Buffy rolled her eyes. Yeah. Heard that one before. Usually right before I go up against something really horrible. I swear, why do I even bother? She sighed.

“Okay, Oracles. You win. I’ll play the wait and see game...again. I’m getting good at that, actually. Go ahead, send me on my merry way.”

Perhaps it was the time in heaven, perhaps it was the new balance she found, but Buffy wasn’t as irritated or upset by the not knowing as she would have been before. It was just acceptance, and there was peace in that.

She tried to soothe the female Oracle’s obviously ruffled feathers in the bargain. “Sorry. I tend to be an instant gratification type person when it comes to information on things that might kill me. I’ll work on that. Guess it’s a pretty good thing you sent Spike straight back, he’s way worse than me with the whole ‘patience is a virtue’ thing.”

It was an honest attempt at conciliatory behavior. Buffy had a warm smile on her face as she said it. It was a smile that faded quickly when she saw the surprised look that passed between the Oracles. A cold trickle of concern danced down Buffy’s spine and she felt her stomach drop into her stomach.

Something was wrong. She felt it.

“What?”

The Oracles turned back to her. “The vampire will not be returning to your dimension.”

It was the male that spoke into her mind, and there was confusion in both the mental voice and in his eyes. Now, instead of just dropping, Buffy’s stomach twisted painfully even as her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

For long seconds she stared at them before she said anything. When she did speak, there was no longer any humor in her voice. “I think it would be a good idea for one of you tell me what you mean by that.”

The sister looked briefly at her brother and quickly decided she would be the best one to handle this. “The vampire was sent to a realm that was...resistant to his presence. It was also resistant to allowing your return. The price of his success was his existence. As was the price of his failure.”

Buffy just stared. She couldn’t get her mind to wrap around what the female was telling her. “Wait. Resistant? The price was his existence? What are you talking about?”

The Oracles didn’t answer her, they stayed serious and silent. It was all the answer Buffy needed. She felt her Slayer senses swirling around her and the power once again emerged.

She went from concerned to seriously pissed off in less than a blink. In a cold tone she nailed the sister with icy words. “Do you mean to tell me that you sent Spike into heaven to get me out and now it’s going to kill him for it?”

Without losing a drop of haughty confidence, the sister blinked once and told her, “You have returned. The vampire was successful. The realm would have reacted swiftly, I imagine. Most likely he has already been terminated. I fail to see the relevance of discussing it further.”

Fury flashed hot and bright in the Slayer and she stepped menacingly toward the creature that had so calmly divulged such a hideous thing. “The ‘vampire’ is important to me. That’s the relevance. He’s a friend.”

As soon as she said the words she felt the rightness in saying them. Whatever else Spike was, whatever else he may become when he was returned - and he would be - what he was first and foremost was a friend. And no one threatened harm to Buffy’s friends without feeling the wrath of the Slayer.

“Don’t you dare tell me he’s dead. You don’t know the first thing about him. He’s not as easy to kill as you might think, believe me, I know. So let me tell you, you’d better start figuring out a way to get him out of there or I’m going to get very unpleasant, very quickly.”

The brother watched as the two powerful females squared off. He could feel the tension in the air. “Slayer, the choice was the vampire’s to make. He made it willingly.”

Buffy practically snorted in disdain of the pair. “Of course he’d make it willingly if you didn’t tell him his life was on the line. He wanted me back. He’d have done anything to get me back...”

Her words trailed off as the realization dawned. She crossed her arms over her chest and glared scornfully at both of them. “That’s the real reason you sent him, wasn’t it? You knew he’d do it, no questions asked, and you couldn’t risk my friends or my sister refusing to take me away from the peace of that place. You played on his feelings for me. That he was a vampire was just a bonus - you knew all along all he would need to do was show a little attitude and fang and it would force that lovely Slayer side of me to return to my responsibilities.”

Somber but unrepentant, the Oracles mentally questioned one another on the best way to handle this extremely volatile situation. In the end they were bound by their duties as guides to be honest with the girl.

“You are correct,” admitted the brother.

“And you are mistaken,” added the sister.

Buffy rolled her eyes, frustrated and angry at the obvious contradiction. She was really itching to wipe those placid expressions right off both of their faces.

Speaking calmly and unhurriedly, the brother continued. “The vampire was called because we had made note of his...interest in you.”

The sister picked up the cadence in the same even tone. “We watched as he fought beside you against the Hell God and we had observed him fighting for you on other occasions.”

Together they said, “We were also aware that his nature would be best suited to bringing forth the warrior in you once again.”

“But,” the brother said, nodding his head slightly in emphasis, “he was made well aware of the ramifications of his actions.”

“Yes, Slayer,” said the sister, “we were honest with him. He knew the price that he would be paying.”

Buffy shook her head vehemently. “No. No way. There is no way he would willingly - “

But there was. And Spike’s own words came back to haunt her.

She’d been in the caves on the edge of Sunnydale, comforting Dawn at the time. Trying to calm her sister’s fears that Willow would do anything rash by trying to take on Glory alone after Glory had stolen Tara’s mind. Spike had been listening and disagreed. Even after Buffy tried to explain that taking on Glory would be suicide, Spike had said, “I’d do it. Right person. Person I loved. I’d do it.”

He had. He loved her and had taken on heaven itself for that love. “Oh God.”

Buffy turned and sunk down on the top step of the stairs and rested her elbows on her knees, face covered by her hands. She felt sick. He never told her, never even gave any indication that he wasn’t going back. Or had he? The kiss. That amazingly passionate kiss. That had taken guts, given their history together. And now she knew where those guts had come from. It was a kiss goodbye.

Damn you, Spike, what the hell were you thinking?

“Actually,” the brother said, listening in on the Slayer’s thoughts, “it was not for you, his sacrifice. Not specifically anyway.”

Buffy spun around, her face drawn and tight. The newfound balance was still in place, but it was being sorely tested. She practically snarled at him. “What?”

“My brother is correct. The vampire was against the proposal at first.”

“Yes,” the brother continued as Buffy’s head swung back to him, “he was quite vehement in the belief that you had suffered enough in your life. You deserved the tranquility of the realm you were in.”

“That was quite a surprise to us, actually.” The sister remembered the fear that they had both felt when Spike first refused to go. She shuddered mentally at the reminder. “It is contradictory to the nature of a vampire to hold another’s concerns in higher regard than his own.”

The brother got the vague look in his eyes that one gets when remembering past events. “He was quite intriguing, really. He was not as we had anticipated at all. Not a warrior for our side, yet he had pledged fealty to one who was and was really quite extraordinary in his responses. He had no soul, but his actions indicated some sense of a moral compass. He was more than he should have been able to be. It was fascinating.”

The Oracles words hit Buffy hard. There was so much truth in them, a truth that she had denied for so long - and had only recently accepted. It infuriated her that these beings could see in such little time what had taken her so long to clue in to. And it was a fury that she directed at herself.

But she took it out on them.

Hot rage had her leaping to her feet and grabbing the male’s shoulder in a crushing grip before he had even noticed she’d moved. She snarled, “You speak about him in the past tense one more time and I’ll make sure that’s all your sister has left when speaking about you. He is NOT dead!”

The brother felt his sister gather her energy in retaliation. He knew she was two seconds from smacking the Slayer with a painful mind slap, much as she’d knocked the vampire when he’d been prepared to attack the Borymous. “No, sister. It is not necessary. Leave her alone. It is the anger speaking, she will be alright in a minute.”

He didn’t move, he stood there and calmly waited for some of the fiery fury to drain out of the Slayers eyes. As it did, she relaxed her hold and finally released him.

The protective behavior was a comfort. He caressed her gently with his mind in thanks. He didn’t bother to tell her he was quite capable of defending himself, she knew it.

Through teeth clenched in tight control, Buffy asked them, “You said he refused first. That he didn’t go back for me. What did you mean?”

The sister stepped forward, moving in front of her brother in an obviously protective maneuver, and glared at Buffy. “It was imperative that you go back. When he refused, we were left with no other option but to show him what would happen to the world if you didn’t. He took one look at the hell the earth was to become and said he’d go.”

“He did it for the good of many, not just you. Not just The K - ” The brother was going to say ‘The Key’...right up until the Slayers deadly glare sliced into him. He decided to take a vampire’s advice. “Not just Dawn. Not just your friends. He did it because he knew it needed to be done.”

His words confused her. Since when did Spike ever put the fate of the world in front of his own agendas?

Sure, she could imagine him sacrificing himself for her and even Dawn, but somehow she couldn’t even see him doing much for the rest of the gang - and he knew them - let alone an anonymous mass population that he once referred to as ‘happy meals with legs’. Even if he couldn’t bite them anymore, he was still a vampire. A soulless vampire. He may not be a monster, but that hadn’t changed.

But what if he was still a vampire with the ability to rise above his inherent nature. Is it possible? And if so - why Spike? Why not...

Suddenly it became even more important for Buffy to get Spike back. She wanted - no, needed - to know if what the Oracles said is true. That somewhere in the middle of all of the stuff that had been going on before she died, Spike had acquired something like a conscience, if not a soul.

She frowned at the suspicious ache in her chest. It hurt, knowing Spike was in danger. It hurt a lot. He’s not dead...he can’t be dead.

The sister saw the frown. She misinterpreted it. She hadn’t been reading the Slayer’s thoughts.

“It seems,” she said conversationally to her brother, “that the Slayer may not have known the vampire as well as she thought she did.” It was a senseless gibe, and it was ill advised.

The brother saw it coming but couldn’t stop it.

Buffy had been staring at the ground, trying to think the Spike situation through when she heard the Oracle’s words. Slowly and with an eerily calm purpose, she raised her head to meet the large, inhuman blue eyes of the female. There was nothing but contempt and anger in the Slayer’s icy glare.

She leapt forward - Slayer senses and strength throbbing gloriously through her - and grabbed the sister by the throat. Not to injure her, mind, just to hold her. Buffy smiled a ferocious smile at the uppity entity. It was not intended to be friendly.

“There had to have been another way. The Powers...they’re all powery. The only way you gave Spike to get me back was this? I don’t think so. There had to have been another way.”

The sister didn’t take the time to answer, she was none too pleased with being manhandled in such a debasing manner and she certainly wasn’t going to sit and discuss that creature with this child any longer. She didn’t care if the child was the Chosen One. She reached out her mind and slapped the Slayer upside the head with a swift mental smack.

But nothing happened.

The only indication the Slayer gave that she felt it was little more than a slight bob in her head.

Buffy’s eyes narrowed as she felt the mental nudge. She saw the female’s eyes widen in surprise and guessed she’d just been targeted for a mental attack that went awry. The grin that spread slowly across her face was not pleasant.

The brother was frantic to break it up. He saw what happened with the mind slap. That blow was more powerful than the one his sister had hit the vampire with. It had been capable of severely damaging a normal human. It would even have knocked the Slayer for a loop, if she’d still been just the Slayer. She wasn’t.

He started talking - quickly - about what Spike’s first choice had been and why the vampire refused.

Each word he said made Buffy feel worse, ripped into her a little more, tore her up, and made her feel Spike’s loss that much more keenly. Because each word reminded Buffy of just how much of a man Spike was. And how much she liked - more than liked - that man. Her heart broke for him even as her resolve strengthened.

Finally, when the Oracle had finished his hasty retelling of the whole story, Buffy turned her attention back to the sister. She tilted her head a bit and tossed the entity away from her as if she weighed next to nothing.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she tossed her head a little to push her hair back off her shoulders, then raised her chin to stare the two beings down.

“So what you’re telling me is that I was supposed to allow my sister to sacrifice herself after the dimensional walls fell. I was supposed to just let her die. This was another - what did you call it? - trial. And when Spike got a chance to right this grievous error in judgment I made, he refused. You know what? I’m really starting to wonder just who the soulless demons are. ‘Cuz I’m thinking not Spike. Funny, isn’t it? Even a vampire has more compassion than the two of you.”

Buffy was through with it. She was through playing games and she was through playing by the Powers’ rules. This was her time now. They needed her. And if the whole Glory thing had taught Buffy one thing, it was that there was power to be had in being needed. Her words cut into both of them.

“You and your ‘Powers’ have done a real good job of stripping everything that matters away from me. And for what? So I would be more Slayerly? More easily controlled by my sense of duty without the drawbacks of silly little distractions like love, family, and friendship? And now you have the audacity to tell me that not only would the way it was ‘supposed’ to have been taken one more thing - but the way it is now is taking a different thing altogether. A friend in lieu of a sister. You know what? I don’t think so. You’ve taken enough - way more than enough.”

Full of righteous indignation and rolling, thunderous anger she stalked slowly closer to where the two stood watching her warily.

“I’m not letting you strip away one more thing. You don’t get Spike. So start thinking of a way to get him here, ‘cuz you know what? If you don’t? I’m done. You can send me back; I probably can’t stop you from that. But I’m done with it. You’ll have to find a different warrior - oh wait...there aren’t any. That’s why you needed me. Pity.”

She leaned forward with an intensely aggressive glint in her eyes and hissed. “I guess you’ll just have to spend the rest of eternity watching whatever Spike saw that was so disturbing, it made a vampire willing to take on heaven itself to make sure it never happened.”

Completely numbed by this new development, the sister could only stammer “Y-you w-wouldn’t. You are the C-Chosen One. You would n-never let the innocents in your dimension s-suffer.”

“You couldn’t,” the brother said quietly, equally shaken internally but more composed than his sister, “because that would invalidate the vampire’s sacrifice for you. He would have died in vain.”

“The ‘vampire’ has a name. Spike. And as for couldn’t and wouldn’t...if I’m not mistaken, people, an eternity lies in the balance. You wanna bet on it?”

“Umm. Giles. What is that?”

Xander had been thrown forcibly back through the doorway when he tried to follow after Dawn. What was left of the Scooby gang rushed to where he landed, half in, half out of the family room, a good ten feet from where his impromptu tumble through the air began.

They were so focused on the young man that they didn’t notice what was going on in the living room behind them. Xander saw it as he sat up, clutching his right arm and wincing in pain. At his question, the group glanced back at noticed for the first time the effect Dawn’s contact with Willow had on the room.

And what they now all saw had Anya breaking off in mid-rant her fear motivated, angry comments about Xander’s decided lack of intelligence at such a foolish endeavor as following after Dawn, and had Giles whipping the glasses off his face. Tara just stood with her mouth slightly agape.

“Anyone?” Xander questioned again, unable to break his eyes away from it. “Giles? What IS that?”

Under his breath, in hardly more than a whisper, Giles muttered, “Oh, dear Lord.”

What had been only a relatively small vortex of wind and magickal energy - bad enough at the time - had grown into a swirling, floor to ceiling wall of cyclonic crackling color. And it was expanding. Rapidly.

Not bothering to question what his gut was screaming at him, Giles turned back to Xander and grabbed him by the shoulders, heaving him up to his feet with surprising strength.

“Move!” He yelled to the transfixed young people around him. “Bloody hell, Go!! Out of the house, NOW!”

Pushing them all along in front of him like a human bulldozer, Giles forced the confused and horrified gang out the front door and onto the lawn. He had only hope that it was to safety.

~*~*~*~*~*~

It was so dark, and for the first few seconds Dawn was really questioning the wisdom of her rash actions. Here she was a stranger in a strange land. The nether realm.

Once the pulling feeling let go of her she got the first chance to try to examine her surroundings, but it was so pitch black there was nothing to see. It scared her.

Spinning around in confusion and concern, she caught a glimmer of light out of the corner of her eye. She tried to find it again, squinting against the inky blackness. Yes. There it was.

Once she’d locked onto it, Dawn started stepping cautiously forward, desperately hoping there were no obstacles in her way to run into or trip over - she wouldn’t be able to see them if there were.

The glimmer of light got stronger as she made her way through the almost palpable darkness, increasing Dawn’s confidence and speeding her steps. She smiled in triumph when she finally got up next to the source of the light. A thread...a cable, if you will, of coppery iridescence with just the tiniest trickle of green running through it, pulsing with energy and lighting a small path through the abyss on her right. Spike.

It was his aura trail. Dawn knew it. She mentally patted herself on the back - choosing to ignore that little bout of abject fear and self-doubt she’d had - and leaned over to take a closer look at the cause of all the hubbub in her own dimension.

No bigger than the width of her forearm, it appeared cohesive, if not solid. She reached out a mental ‘hand’ and brushed her fingers gently along one side. And giggled.

It tickled, but it also felt cool and comforting. And no sooner did she come in contact with Spike’s aura then the coppery colors separated from the swirling green as if drawn to her touch. Instead of being mixed, it pulled away just slightly, leaving the traces of green to pool off to one side, furthest away from her fingers.

It didn’t take a genius to figure that the coppery shimmer was Spike. That left Willow as the green. Dawn made a mental note and grinned. She’d been right. She’d been right all along.

That was a very good thing.

And there had been no nasty surprises. Both her essence and her aura had remained firmly rooted in their own realm. Fear that they wouldn’t - that what had happened to Willow would happen to her - had been the cause of some minor trepidation. It had itched at Dawn’s mind as a potential problem, but she’d been betting that whatever emotions Spike was feeling in this section of his trail, they would have nothing to gain by forcing her into merging with him. He was her protector, and his aura may have instinctively recognized Willow’s power as a tool to be used and pulled it in as a means of better protecting her.

It had been risky, betting on that, and more than a little foolhardy, but Dawn just tried to think what Buffy would have done in the same circumstances. She’d have been all, “Damn the consequences, I’m going in,” so that’s just what Dawn did. Action. It was about taking action to get the job done. Dawn was all about that.

Straightening up from her mentally crouched position, she peered down the long trail stretching out in front of her. With determination and a small smile of pride, she started following along the lit path. She still had a way to go in actually getting Willow back, but she felt a renewed sense of confidence in herself.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“What the hell was she thinking?” Giles was terrified, for Dawn, for all of them - truly terrified. And it came out as anger.

The group stood in the yard and watched through the open front door as the wall of energy expanded past where they had been standing before the blinding colors blocked out their view. It didn’t expand past the walls of the house, which had everyone breathing a sigh of relief, but it had effectively cut off any hope of entering beyond the doorway. The house, for all intents and purposes, was sealed off to them.

“I mean, really. Would someone please tell me just what in the hell the girl was thinking?” Giles’ voice was quickly rising as anger mixed with a type of hysteria that was quite unattractive for someone of his age and normally staunch and stoic character.

“She’s a child. When will she get that through her head? Did I not make myself perfectly clear? I believe I was speaking English in there earlier. She is not to be taking such foolhardy chances with her safety in such a manner. And now look what she’s done!” Giles gestured wildly to the house.

Had the circumstances been a little less dire, it would have been vastly amusing for the gang, seeing someone they all knew to be calm and reserved going off the deep end so effectively. But because they were so dire, and because everyone else happened to be sharing his thoughts, if not expressing them, they weren’t feeling terribly inclined to find much humor in the situation at all.

“Honestly, I was pleasantly enjoying the delusion that life with a strong willed Slayer that had a tendency to not follow proper procedures and protocols was as difficult as I would have it. I really had no idea, did I? This...this is just too much! Please explain to me what in the bloody hell she was thinking?!”

The silence that slammed down on the night when Giles drew his words to an abrupt halt weighed heavily on all of them. Xander, Anya, and Tara exchanged nervous glances, not wanting to say anything that would get him going again - especially if he started directing that anger their way.

Giles turned his back on the house and stared into the night sky. He was struggling desperately for some control, but fear of losing another child - and that’s what she was to him, his other child - had stripped away even the illusion of control. He didn’t know if he could survive another loss like the one he had sustained the night Buffy died. And he was devastated because he had no idea how to prevent it. He felt...old...worn down by a life that normally gave him great comfort.

Xander watched the Watcher as he dealt with his own issues - issues like his deep seeded hatred of the bleached blonde vampire that caused all this mess to begin with - but he knew they would need Giles to get it together if they had any hope of fixing this.

After waiting for the man to calm down enough not to take his head off, Xander reached out and laid a reassuring hand on Giles’ shoulder. “Come on, Giles. We’ll fix this. Willow and Dawn will be fine. But you need to stop going all raving lunatic on us, now, okay?”

When Giles’ head snapped around and pinned him with an icy glare, Xander thought he hadn’t waited quite long enough and prepared to get blasted with some British venom, but the man’s eyes softened slightly before he snapped out anything damaging. The fear in those eyes, eyes not known for showing fear - derision, sardonic amusement, wisdom, yes; fear, no - clutched Xander’s heart in a tight fist but he smiled a reassuring smile.

“You know,” Anya’s voice pulled their attention away from what was quickly becoming an uncomfortable mushy man moment - a thing to be avoided at all costs - and they gratefully turned and looked at the ex-demon. “I have to say that I am not emotionally equipped to handle another funeral right now. So, I would appreciate it if you would tell us what we need to do to stop all this nether realm jumping, energy wall attacking madness so I can go home instead of visiting a morgue.”

It was completely inappropriate, what she said. It was crass and unfeeling and cold. And it was so completely Anya that for a minute, no one knew what to say.

Giles was at a loss. He wanted to walk up to the girl and smack her, he really did. But how was that different from any other time she opened her mouth? Oddly enough, that struck Giles as funny. I mean, really, what can you expect? A chuckle started in his stomach and rolled out of him before he could stop it. Xander heard it and shot him a weird look, and that just made Giles laugh harder. Soon, he was clutching his side with his right hand and rubbing his face with the left - wiping at the tears the laughter brought out.

Anya frowned at him, “I really don’t think this is the time for inappropriate humor. I want to go home. But I know Xander. He won’t go until everything is back to normal so we need to know what to do to make that happen. You can stop laughing now.”

And with that pretentiously spoken demand, Tara giggled. Her eyes widened in surprise and she slapped a hand over her mouth. The expression set Giles off again and he gave a deep, barking, belly laugh. It turned out to be contagious. Soon all three of them, Xander, Giles, and Tara, were struggling to bring themselves under control. They weren’t helped by the crossed arms and monumentally irritated expression on Anya’s face. Every time one of them looked at her, it all started again.

“People!” Anya finally cried, when it looked like they were never going to stop. “I highly doubt your amusement is an effective tool to prevent Willow and Dawn’s death.”

It was a torrent of cold water on a fire. Their hysteria-borne laughter died quickly and painfully as reality intruded.

Anya nodded with satisfaction, “Alright, then. Now. Any ideas as to what would be an effective tool?”

Side hurting, arm hurting, heart hurting, Xander looked at Giles and asked, “Are you sure we can’t get in there to them? I mean...there has to be a way, right?”

Giles didn’t answer him. He looked back at the energy in the doorway and then bent over and picked up a small pebble lying on the nearby sidewalk, tossing it into the blocked opening of the house.

When it came in contact with the energy barrier, light flared and there was a crack of sound. They had to shield their eyes so they didn’t see what happened to the stone, but they heard it. And they heard what was left of it as it dropped to the porch in crumbled pieces.

“Okay, then,” mumbled Xander sheepishly, “guess that’s a big no on the frontal attack. What is that, anyway, Giles? I mean...what happened? Is this just another tasty bonus of Dawn being The Key?”

Giles was quick to reassure them all that he didn’t believe that to be the case. “Quite frankly, I believe that what we’re seeing is exactly what we have been seeing all along.”

When the three of them looked at him in confusion and disbelief, he sighed and tried to explain his theory. “Working on the assumption that what we were seeing before was a subconsciously controlled physical manifestation of the magickal energy Willow has access to, and assuming again that the energy was feeding off of Willow to sustain itself, what we’re seeing now is quite probably the exact same thing. With Dawn acting like a kind of super battery, providing more natural energy than we’d witnessed previously.”

“And again I’m with the ‘huh?’” Xander looked confused and scared. “Wait...energy? But you said this wasn’t Key related! And Dawn, she’s all ancient energy transformed. Couldn’t that be why we’ve got the front row seats for this nifty light show?”

Giles stared at the boy seriously, “I don’t believe it is. Dawn is young. And a young girl going through her particular stage of physical development is just one walking ball of energy in her own right. It isn’t necessary to be The Key to cause such a rise in phenomenon.”

“Okay,” piped up Anya again, “information is all well and good, but not very helpful in the solutions department. How do we unplug the power source?”

No one answered her. No one knew what to say.

Tara’s mind was racing. She had an idea, but it went against every fiber of her being to even entertain such a dramatically dangerous course of action. The risk was immense. If she was wrong, both Willow and Dawn could die. But what if she’s right?

Even if she was, she had no idea if she could convince Giles and Xander to go along with it.

The problem was if Giles and Xander tried anything else, they risked themselves as well as Willow and Dawn. She knew how powerful that magickal wall was. There was absolutely no way she could even hope to manipulate that kind of raw energy and not get burned to a crisp. And she was a witch. If they tried, it would kill them. Period. And there would be nothing left of them but ashes.

“I-I think w-we may have to l-leave them al-lone.” She hated the stutter; she always had, but couldn’t keep it from happening when she was nervous, or uptight. Right now she was both. But she was also determined.

No one heard her at first, and she realized she hadn’t done more than whisper the words under her breath. She screwed up her courage and tried again in a more forceful tone. “I think we may have to leave them alone.”

Xander and Giles both spun around and stared at her like she’d lost her mind. Giles opened his mouth, prepared to disagree vehemently with the ludicrous idea, and was surprised when Tara met his eyes. She wasn’t one for a lot of eye contact. He could see the fear there, and the determination, and under all that was hope. It was the hope that held him silent.

“Giles, I think I know what Dawn was thinking. I think I may know why she believed she was the only one who could do it. And I think she may just be right.”

Giles looked skeptical. “Tara, forgive me for saying so, but that is quite a lot of ‘I thinks’.”

She looked down at the ground nervously. Giles always had the ability to intimidate her, and the accent made everything he said sound just that much more...well, intimidating. Come on, she thought to herself, if you’re ever going to, this is the time to assert yourself. It’s about time you started earning your Scooby gang membership.

She raised her head again and tried to appear much more confidant than she felt.

“Dawn knew that Spike would never hurt her. He would do anything to protect her. She accepts that as fact, and even though we don’t understand why it’s true, it is true. We’ve all seen it. Since Dawn used the connection already in place to enter the nether realm, she would have been pulled in close enough to the aura trail to be able to see it. And she’s smart enough to follow it to wherever Willow is along that trail. We were talking about how one of us would need to pull Willow out of the merging, but Dawn probably realized something we didn’t. She can get Spike’s aura to let her go. Just by being there, she can get his aura to let go enough for Willow to break free. All she needs is time.”

Xander looked back and forth from Giles to Tara. He watched Giles becoming more and more interested in what she was saying and he gritted his teeth, anger bubbling painfully in his stomach. He liked Tara, he really did, but there was no way he was going to sit by and do nothing while Spike’s ‘unconscious’ will drained dry two of the most important people in his life. No how, no way.

“Time,” he snorted, “yeah - and while we’re giving Dawn the time, what’s Evil Dead’s ghost gonna be doing? Gotta give him credit, he’s always working the vamp angle. He can’t drain our blood but he’s still managing to suck the life right out of the two of them.”

Giles frowned at the level of anger he heard in Xander’s voice. There was real venom in it and it bothered him. Giles wasn’t fond of Spike, either, he’d be the first to admit it, but the vampire was important to Dawn, and she had convinced him earlier that night that Spike had a purpose among them. Things were bound to get difficult if and when they got Spike back if he didn’t say something now.

“As much as I hate defending Spike, and believe me, that’s quite a lot, this isn’t something he’s doing purposely, Xander. It’s not a conscious attack.”

The hostile young man glared at the energy pulsing in the doorway and said, “And yet somehow I can’t seem to care.” He caught the look Giles gave him out of the corner of his eye. He finally conceded. “Fine. We give Dawn time. How much time? And what do we do while we’re waiting? Develop an interesting hobby like, oh, I don’t know...knitting doilies?”

“Um...” Tara mumbled, “I th-think you crochet doilies, actually.”

When he just stared hard at her she flushed bright pink and stammered, “S-sorry. N-Not important.”

Giles reached into his pocket and pulled out his car keys, handing them to Xander. “We give her all the time that she needs right up until the energy shows signs of weakening. I want you to take Tara and Anya to the shop and pick up some supplies. If it looks like they are starting be drained to dangerous levels it might lessen the strength of the barrier enough for us to break through - but we’ll need Tara’s expertise to do it.”

He glanced over at the young witch, who was blushing faintly at the praise and the acceptance of her plan. “Tara, you know what you’ll need, right?”

When she nodded at him he smiled slightly. “Good. Anya, go with them. If there’s anything that Tara requires that’s not on the shelves, get it out of the inventory.”

“Right,” the relatively recent human girl nodded enthusiastically. “This is what I like to see. A workable plan. Very good. And what are you going to do?”

Giles looked once more at the house, worry plainly etched in his face and weighing down his shoulders. “What else? Crochet a doily.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

It had taken awhile, Dawn was mentally exhausted, but she’d gotten there. Even with the light from Spike’s aura as a guide, the darkness and silence of the nether realm gave Dawn a big case of the heeby geeby’s. She really wouldn’t mind seeing the end of it any time soon and she had no intention of ever visiting again.

But she’d made it.

Staring down at the end of Spike’s trail she noticed that Willow had been quite literal in her explanation of it. It did quite abruptly cut off. It just hung there, in midair, the end touching some kind of wall or barrier. The wall to the realm that Spike had disappeared into.

And this was where she’d followed the slivers of green, also. Dawn was relieved. Willow had made it. There was a lot of green here. It danced and swirled frenetically over and through the coppery color, more prominent than at any other point. Willow’s essence and mental self had traveled the whole distance. Hopefully she’d gotten a look into the other dimension so all of this badness had a chance for a happy ending.

While she was traveling, Dawn had tested the reaction of Spike’s aura with her touch several times along the way. Each time she’d felt the comforting coolness and each time the copper had gravitated toward her outstretched mental hand. This time should be no different.

She reached out one more time, knowing this was the real deal, and prayed that Willow had enough of herself left to recognize the lessened hold on her as a means of escape. She made contact and waited breathlessly to see what would happen.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Bashing, pounding, slashing, slamming, Willow - the last thread of Willow - threw herself, threw Spike’s aura and everything that was left of her against the barrier over and over.

She was beyond rational thought - driven by her own horror at the resignation and determination that had pushed Spike into actions that had him stepping into hell without railing, fighting, clawing against such an obscenity.

Overloaded by emotions she had no control over and no known reason for.

Willow wailed against the not knowing why, but she pulsed and shook with the emotional fallout. The torment of a vampire.

Motion. Something not there before. And whispers. Buggish whispers of cockroaches crawling behind a wall and the feeling of a presence sneaking up on her had Willow’s mind pulling back from another attack on the barrier.

She was buffeted by emotions that made no sense given where they were. Emotions so tragically misplaced yet profoundly intense that it buzzed like electrical currents of nastiness through her essence and aura - tickling her mind with painful tips of shark’s teeth.

Something recognizable but unknown to the cobweb of Willow’s mind. And a tsunami-sized tidal wave of...surprise? Pleasure? No sense. Made no sense. Wrong. The witch that was the vampire balked at the feelings.

Tricks, they’re nasty tricks, don’t give in. Don’t feel this joy. It’s a lie that will be stripped away from you like a warm blanket on an icy night and all that will be left is the agony. Willow knew agony. She knew Spike’s agony. It was so powerful, acid burning, eating - gorging on her until sanity fled.

Slipping away, the emotions, slipping away and hiding where Willow couldn’t go. Pooling her to one side as if she were no longer of any importance to the equation. Blocked from that part of her. Couldn’t let that happen. Wouldn’t let them fall for it. Call back the trail. Call back the aura. Protect it from grotesque disillusionment. Attack.

Blocked by this different kind of barrier, Willow’s mind tried to rise above the walls and smite the creature capable of such allure that Spike’s aura gravitated towards it with the innocent trust of a swaddling, bawling babe.

There was no vision, no sight but the opening, gaping, maw of the hell Spike had entered. It played an endlessly vicious cycle in the crippled, decrepit mental mind of a girl. Even after the emotions pulled back. Left with only herself, twirling less tightly knit, Willow could force action. Protect him. Don’t allow him to be subjected to more.

She gathered her broken mind, an essence that had lived millennia of emotion in hours, an aura bleached by pain and misuse. She attacked. Protect him. Kill. Rip. Tear. Punish. Mutilate. Evil. This is evil. Stop it.

Like a phoenix out of the ashes, Willow rose over the partition separating her from Spike’s aura, blind to the visual input of what she was preparing to attack. Knowing nothing but the picture of hell in her mind. Fighting perhaps that.

But the aura responded. Spike’s aura rose to meet the challenge. What had been a companion, a confidant of vile, unspeakable horror, a partner in a crime against inhumanity - inflicting damage but leading the way down an enforced, twisted, evil path towards hell - was now an avenging angel of demanding intensity. A wounded lion warring to defend its own.

Willow didn’t understand. She was attacking for him and he turned on her with surprising viciousness. They merged again, in battle.

Again came torrents of emotion, his emotions. Defend. Protect. Destroy.

Willow knew it was she, not the intruder, who was to be destroyed. And she trembled under the assault from the vampire’s aura.

Pushed, ripped from her new home. Painfully stripped away from the merging, Willow was cast out. Thrown away from the path that she had been on. Screaming mentally at the agony of it. Lost and blind in the darkness, Willow screeched in defeat and pain.

Alone for the first time in a long time and out of Spike’s trail, she was lost in solitude. Lost in aloneness. Lost to the insanity that had sucked her down into her own hell. No longer sharing his.

Falling hard, she stared at the absence of light and feeling, screaming still.

But this time, her screams were heard.

Dawn had touched the stream of merged auras like she had all the other times. And she had thought, at first, that everything was just the same as it had been before. But this time, when the larger pool of green that was Willow had separated from the coppery color of Spike, it seemed to almost resist the split instead of taking the escape she offered and pulling away.

She watched, not knowing what was going on, as Willow seemed to draw herself, her elements, up and over the space opened by Spike’s drawing near her hand. Tendrils of jade green snaked out towards her.

It hadn’t frightened her, she just thought Willow knew she was here and didn’t understand that she was being given a means of escape. It wasn’t until Spike’s aura turned away from her touch and rose to slam into the green, squeezing the tendrils back and preventing them from coming any closer that she thought something may be wrong.

And her jaw dropped at the obvious signs of struggle between the two colors. Not that she hadn’t expected a struggle of some kind, but she’d expected Spike not want to let Willow go. She never thought that Willow would fight to stay with him. But that’s what it looked like to Dawn. The green was clinging to the copper. Then it shimmered and swirled under what was an obvious attack.

It made no sense.

And when, finally, the green had been thrown out of the stream, when it broke away and landed mostly cloaked in darkness just a few steps away - no longer a green swirling of color but the ‘mental’ figure of the girl that Dawn had come to retrieve - Dawn went from confused to horrified as Willow’s scream, a scream of anguish and futility, rent the air and echoed through the nether realm over and over.

Her hand dropped to her side, out of the aura trail, and she rushed over to the screaming madness that was her friend.

“Willow?”

Dawn’s ears were ringing under barrage of shrieking sound. She knelt down to the cowering figure in front of her, terror etched hauntingly on her face. She didn’t know what to do.

Wanting to comfort, needing to do something, anything to halt that echoing scream, she reached down and gently touched Willow’s shoulder. Under her hand, she felt the instinctive flinch. Willow pulled away and mindlessly pushed herself back, away from her touch.

Her screams became whimpers.

Dawn patiently followed after her and tried again, more forcefully.

“Willow!”

Instead of just gently touching her shoulder, Dawn grabbed the girl firmly by the shoulders and gave her a quick shake. Willow’s sightless and unfocused eyes stared off into the abyss behind Dawn. She reached a hand up to Willow’s chin and gently turned her face so she could look into those eyes.

“Willow?”

Dawn could do nothing but watch and hope for a glimmer of recognition. Just when it looked like she was never going to see it, when her own terror and worry were choking her, Willow’s eyes seemed to slowly come back into focus. Dawn felt the tears building in her own eyes and she tried to blink them back. Finally, Willow’s whimpers tailed off and she seemed to really see Dawn for the first time.

As if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing, Willow raised her mental hand up to Dawn’s cheek and brushed it gently.

“Dawnie?”

Dawn smiled through her tears and nodded, relief making her knees weak.

Willow choked out a sob and fell into Dawn’s comforting embrace, crying out her pain and fear. Slowly, the longer she was out of Spike’s trail, the more her mind came back to her and her sobs turned from fear to relief. Dawn held her, stroking her back soothingly, and let her cry.

“Oh God, Dawnie,” Willow said when she could finally speak again, “I was so scared. It was so horrible. I never knew. How could anyone know?”

Dawn didn’t know what she meant, but she knew Willow needed to get it all out and she remained silent. Questions could come later.

“He felt so much pain. I can’t even describe it. I never knew that someone could feel that much anguish. And he was...hurt...physically...and then, fixed. But I didn’t see what happened. Oh, God, all I saw were demons and creatures and...and...”

Willow pulled back, choking on her words, needing to purge herself of the emotions still swamping her - memories of emotions that were still razor sharp and slicing into her. Making her bleed.

She reached up and took Dawn’s arms in her hands and stared into her eyes.

“He loved her so much. I felt it. The loss. It was killing him, ripping him apart. He loved her so much, Dawnie, and we never knew it. We didn’t believe it was possible but he did. And he loves you, too. I can’t even tell you how much. It was in me, the love for her...for you. It was a part of me and it was huge. Protective and blinding.”

Dawn smiled tenderly at the frantic telling; it was as if Willow were trying to convince her. She didn’t need to. Dawn nodded at her friend’s words.

“I know, Willow. I’ve always known.”

That stopped the young witch. She searched Dawn’s face and saw the truth there. Dawn had never questioned it because she had always seen it. She would. It centered Willow, strengthened her as she saw Dawn’s confidence in such an immense thing. She would need the strength. She had something else to tell Dawn and she’d need all the strength she had to do it.

“I saw where he went. I saw what he saw when the doorway opened. We’re going to get him back. I swear to you, I will get him back.”

Dawn was relieved. More than relieved, she was giddy. “Where is he? Where did he go?”

Willow slid her hands down Dawn’s arms and clutched desperately at her hands. The look on her face made Dawn’s stomach tighten and she prepared herself for what looked to be bad news.

“It was hell, Dawnie, they sent him to hell.”

Stricken, Dawn could only stare at the girl. Willow saw it and rushed to explain all that she knew.

“Two creatures. Weird looking. They showed him something in the ground...I know I’m not explaining this well, but I didn’t see much until the end - then I saw way too much. It was something out of a nightmare, it made him sick - despair, I felt his despair - and then they opened the door for him and it was horrible. Worse than the picture in the ground. It was hell. I don’t know why he went in, he was resigned to something. Determined. There was such a flood of feelings I can’t explain them all. He just walked in and the doors closed. That’s all I saw.”

Dawn’s lower lip was trembling and her eyes were flooded with tears. The tables turned and Willow moved to comfort the teen, wrapping her arms around her and holding her close.

“We’ll get him back. I swear to you. We can get him back now that we know where he is. I’m not giving up until I bring him back.”

No sooner had the words been spoken then the ground beneath them bucked once and started to tilt. Willow and Dawn broke apart and stared at each other, not comprehending what was happening, as they slid slightly along with it. Wide eyed and confused, they tried to stand, to gain purchase on the slick surface.

Just when Dawn made it to her feet and reached over to help Willow up, the tilting pitched back the other way...and everything in and of the nether realm started to shake.