"O Queen of air and darkness,
"I have gone out, a possessed witch,
A woman like that is not a woman, quite.
I think 'tis truth you say,
And I shall die tomorrow;
But you will die today."
A.E. Housman
haunting the black air, braver at night;
dreaming evil,
I have been her kind.
Anne Sexton
"Willow!" Tara screamed. "Oh my God, where's Willow?"
Xander's head whipped around. "Willow?"
Nothing.
"Willow!" Xander echoed Tara as he started to crawl back along the narrow passageway.
"Xander, wait!" Anya was frantic. "Where are you going?"
"To find Willow!" he shouted. "Go on, I'll be right back!"
Anya hesitated, but his dark head was already out of sight.
Far in front were the others...Giles, battered and barely moving...an exhausted Buffy dragging a wounded Spike...then Tara, so scared she was shaking uncontrollably, even though she'd begged to come along.
Slowly Anya resumed her painful crawl forward. Surely he would come- soon? Willow couldn't be too far behind, could she?
The passage stopped abruptly, spilling Anya onto the cracked macadam that had once been Sunnydale High School's parking lot.
Buffy looked up from where she'd slumped on the ground, still holding onto Spike as if he were a lifeline.
"Where's Xander and Willow?"
"He said he's coming," Anya began, but he knees were trembling so much she couldn't struggle to her feet. No, it was the parking lot that was trembling....
"Earthquake!" yelled Giles, throwing himself down on top of Buffy.
The rumbling grew louder- became a thunderous roar. With an eerie moan, the flimsy walls of Sunnydale High collapsed into a pile of rubble.
"Willow!" shrieked Tara.
"She's still in there!"
Xander rushed along the tunnel, not wasting breath on calling for Willow. Instintively he took a familiar short-cut, behind the gym to emerge in what had been the cafeteria.
"Willow!"
The slender redhead heard her name; and glanced up. "I'm just coming, Xand! "
"Well, come faster!" Xander glanced around nervously. "This place is going to fall down any minute."
"I just want to get some of this stuff," Willow scooped some books into her bag. "Catherine the Great was such a powerful witch!"
"Yeah, so powerful she nearly killed us all with that demon army she created." Xander's voice was grim.
"But can you imagine the magics she had? Incredible! I wonder how long it'll take to get to that level? I bet I do it within two years!"
Xander cast an uneasy glance around. "We ought to get out of here, this place gives me the willies."
"Like Willie the Snitch?" giggled the redhead.
"Like Willow the Witch!" Xander retorted. 'C'mon, we better move."
"Relax," Willow pounced on another sheaf of papers. "Ooh look, a really powerful spell for raising the dead! And one for transmutation....this place is a goldmine!"
"No, it's a deathtrap!" Exasperated, Xander seized Willow's arm. "Take my hand, and we'll head back."
Willow reached out; but just then the vibrations started.
"What's that?" startled.
Xander knew. "Earthquake! Run!"
They started pounding along toward the passageway, both with eyes fixed on a star-filled patch of sky that now seemed impossibly far away.
They heard a low rumble right before the earth moved.
The patch of sky was gone.
"Nooo!" screamed Willow.
"Xander!"
But there was no reply.
TEN YEARS LATER....
"She still lives on Revello Drive?" The slightly built man didn't conceal the surprise in his voice.
"Oh yes." His taller, older companion hesitated, seemed about to say more, then fell silent as the door opened.
"Hi Giles," the tiny blonde said. "C'mon in....OH!" She'd caught sight of his companion.
"Buffy?" the younger man held out his hand. "You...you look...."
"Yes, well, let's get inside, shall we?" Giles led the way into the living room. "Buffy, you remember Michael Czajak?"
She yed him carefully, then recognition dawned. "Michael! You were..."
"The Warlock. Yes." Michael nodded.
"You were Amy Madison's best friend," Buffy added.
She did not mention Willow, Giles noted. Yet during their senior year at Sunnydale, they had formed a coven of three: Amy, Michael...and Willow.
"Amy's the reason I came to see you, Buffy," Michael settled on the couch beside her, still watching her closely. "I went into the Magic Box today, and somewhat to my surprise, found Mr. Giles there. I didn't know he owned the place; I haven't been back in Sunnydale since graduation."
"Until now?" Buffy asked curiously.
"I felt something calling me home," Michael explained. "The feeling got stronger the closer I came to Sunnydale."
Buffy sat up straighter. "What was it?"
Giles took off his glasses and began polishing them. "Do you remember I once told you all magic spells have a signature?"
Buffy bit her lip. "Yes, but..."
"What Michael detected was a spell, Buffy," Giles said softly.
"And the signature was Amy!" Michael's voice filled with excitement. "I'd know it anywhere! Somewhere, somehow, Amy is alive...and casting! She's back!"
"I don't understand," Michael was bewildered, "why Buffy wouldn't believe me!"
Giles chose his words carefully. "It's not that she doesn't believe you, it's just that she thinks you may be ..."
"Hallucinating," Michael supplied bitterly. "I guess I can see why she'd think it was wishful thinking; I've fantasized getting Amy back for years. But still, shouldn't she at least investigate? As the Slayer..."
"Buffy is no longer the Slayer," Giles admitted coldly. "The current Slayer is London-based."
Michael nodded, unsurpised. "So that's it!"
Giles stiffened. "I can't imagine what you're talking about!"
"Buffy," Michael said calmly. "Giles, I'm over thirty. My hair is already starting to recede, I've gained eight pounds since high school, I wear glasses for reading. But Buffy, she's the same girl I knew back in Sunnydale High. There isn't the slightest difference between then and now- not the slightest. So what is she, a vampire?"
Giles glanced away. "Yes. For nearly a decade."
"But she doesn't feed?" Michael asked curiously.
"Somehow, she kept her soul."
The Watcher's hushed words silenced the questions trembling on Michael's tongue. Visibly upset, Giles strode off in the opposite direction, not even bidding Michael goodbye.
The warlock sighed in disappointment, and turned away. "Good old Sunnydale- Why'd I really come back?"
"That IS the sodding question, isn't it mate?"
The blond male in the leather coat stepped from behind the tree. "So why don't we have a tidy chat, and you'll tell me the answer?"
Michael's heart began pounding. "You...are you...."
"Don't worry, I won't hurt you. Not if you're a good bloke, and tell me everything she..." He nodded in the direction of the house behind them "...said to you?"
Michael began walking, keeping pace with the blond. "The answer's easy, I came back for love."
The other sighed. "That's the way of it," he commented, not unsympathetically. "Love'll do for you, every single time."
"You said it," Michael relaxed slightly. "I knew she was here, so..."
"WHO? Buffy?" the words exploded out of the Englishman's mouth.
"No, Amy," Michael explained.
"What, the rat girl?" the vampire demanded.
Michael nodded glumly. "I know how it sounds, but it was like I felt her, you know? Felt her calling me home. I HAD to come find her."
"I get you, mate. Yeah, ol' Spike can understand that one. But why did you need Buffy? And, and how IS she, anyway?"
"Um, very pretty," Michael offered lamely, confused by his companion. Still whatever the blond was- and Michael had spent enough time on the Hellmouth to recognize a vampire when he saw one- he didn't appear hostile. "She wore jeans and a sort of lacy top...and her long hair hung down, she used to wear it like that in school."
He gave his companion a sidelong glance. "In fact, she looked exactly like she did in high school. Just the same."
The blond vampire growled and said something that startled Michael. "She's never forgiven me."
There was something in his voice- a strangely forlorn quality- that roused Michael's pity.
"Ten years isn't long enough to forget," he said. "I never forgot Amy. Long after I gave up spellcasting, I still visited magic shops searching for a way to bring her back. Now and again I'd find a spell and send it to Willow, but they never worked."
"What makes you think it will work?" Tara stared fearfully into the cauldron.
"Because I say it will." the redhead answered, carefully adding a small amount of green fluide from a beaker. The mixture foamed and bubbled.
"We need three witches to perform the ritual; and now that Michael's arrived, we'll have them."
"But, W..W..Willow," Tara stammered, "Why not use Anya? She'd help, you know she would."
"Not Anya!" Willow hunched one shoulder impatiently. "She wouldn't help with this! Besides, have you seen her lately? Xander wouldn't even recognize her now."
Smiling, Willow turned to the long glass box which held her dearest treasure.
"Soon, Xander," she crooned to the motionless figure inside. "Soon I will have everything I need. To bring you back."
Buffy climbed the stairs on shaking legs.
It had upset her more than she could say, to see Michael again after all this time.
For ten years she had seen no one but for Giles; she never left the house on Revello Drive.
The computer drew her...it was set in in what had once been Dawn's room, simply because Buffy couldn't bear to have it in Joyce's. Apart from Giles, it was her one link with the outside world- her livelihood, too. The stories and novels she wrote paid the bills; the online friends she made would never look at her face and see fangs and ridges.
She began to turn it on, then hesitated. There'd be a confrontation with Paul, who'd been trying to set up a meeting for months.She didn't want to deal. Paul was becoming a problem.
Her mouth twisted wryly; so, how close was she to her hacker friends, if she was terrified to let them see her face?
It was Michael, making her think this way. Making her remember.
Buffy turned restlessly toward the bathroom. She'd take a long, hot bath- and forget all about Michael.
Michael let himself into his motel room. It had been renovated since he'd seen it last; but that was already several years ago and already it had a slightly seedy look.
"Just meant to be tacky," he said aloud, shedding his coat.
"It really is, i..i..isn't it?" a soft voice stammered from the shadows.
"Who are you?" Michael demanded. Something about her made him nervous. "My name is Tara," she said. "I need you to help me...help Amy."
Michael's sense of ill-at-ease vanished.
"Amy?" he asked eagerly. "Of course I will...I'll do anything!"
The basement of the Rosenberg house was dimly lit; and Tara's eyes adjusted to see Willow kneeling alonside the glass case.
"He'll come?" the redhead asked, without turning her head.
"Yes. He...he thinks the signature from the spells you cast belongs to Amy."
Willow smiled. "It took a long time to get a perfect duplicate...one good enough to fool Michael. Now we only need one more thing- a blood sacrifice."
Tara trembled in fear. "Not Michael?"
"Of course not, don't be so stupid!" Willow said contemptuously. "Michael menat nothing to Xander. Besides, we'll need a third to cast the spell properly."
Tara drew in her breath sharply. "Then, who?"
"Who else? Buffy, of course! It would have to be Buffy or Giles, and her blood still has Slayer properties. She's by far the better choice. Besides..." Willow's eyes hardened into splinters of green glass, "Buffy betrayed us! She saved Spike and left us behind to die. She always risked her friends for her pet demon! Well, she got what she deserved- now she's a demon herself!"
He took a second glance. "Oh, it's you."
"Sitting up late over the old books, are you?" The blond vampire sat down at the table and lit a cigarette.
Giles frowned, then sighed and found an ashtray. "I'm very concerned about Michael..."
"Yeah, he told me." Spike cut Giles off. "So. How did she take it?"
"I'm not sure," Giles confessed.
"This girl, Amy...she was a good friend, was she?"
"I wouldn't say that. More a friend of Willow's, though she wasn't really that, either.
But Willow probably knew her best. In high school she, Michael, and Willow formed a coven- the number three, like the numbers seven and thirteen, are exceptionally powerful for conjuring. But they attracted attention; and soon after Amy did a transmogrification spell that trapped her in the form of a rat."
"Where is she now?" Spike asked.
"Willow took charge of her, so Amy is probably somewhere in the Rosenberg house. In rat form," amended Giles. He gave the vampire a warning look. "And there are powerful wards all around the property."
Spike laughed harshly. "I know that. I've tried many times to see Willow over the past decade, but that place is harder to get into than soddin' Buckingham Palace!"
"Perhaps you were fortunate," Giles commented grimly. "Willow is not the girl we knew."
Spike gave him a long look. "Neither is Buffy."
The Watcher winced. "That was your doing, Spike."
The vampire nodded. "I know, I...oh, bloody hell, I panicked! I came to and she was dying, she was almost gone, and I..." he stopped abruptly.
"I panicked too," Giles admitted. "When the earthquake came, all sorts of debris stared flying about...and a chunk of concrete the size of a grapefruit hit Buffy."
He broke off, staring into space. "Spike, I wanted you to do it. It was too much, to lose her after everything we'd been through. I never even tried to stop you from turning her."
"And the end of it is that she can't forgive me," Spike said bitterly. "Ten years in that house, a prisoner of herself- and she won't see anyone but you. Never me. I used to stand on her porch and beg; but not anymore."
He got slowly to his feet. "I couldn't stand...the hatred in her eyes."
Giles watched the vampire leave with a troubled heart. For the thousandth time, he asked himself what else he could have done.
Allowed Buffy to die? Called on Angel for help? Tried to break through the wall of hatred and blame that Willow had erected after Xander's death?
It didn't matter; he'd already tried and failed.
A grief-crazed Willow had lashed out at Buffy; and Angel had been on his way to Sunnydale when he'd encountered an Avorniak demon and died screaming Buffy's name.
He'd thought Buffy would just give up then- she'd already lost everything, his poor brave darling.
All she had left was an aging Watcher; and a soulless demon who refused to leave her. And the soul she'd somehow retained, thanks to her Slayer heritage.
Somehow, miraculously, it was enough. Buffy had stayed herself, even though it was a damaged self that shunned the outside world.
Giles sighed again, reaching for yet another book. He opened it almost absently; but then, his eyes widened and he began reading feverishly.
Finally he broke off, his heart pounding in fear.
"Oh no," he whispered. "Dear God, please let me be wrong about this!"
The thought flickered across his mind- what if she glanced out, spotted him, and came to the door? She wouldn't, though.
Spike took a final drag on his cigarette and pitched it. Then he swung up into the branches overhead. He climbed steadily until he found himself just outside her window.
With the ease of long practice he settled into the position in which he knew he could remain until just before sunrise.
Buffy stood in the doorway of her room, eyes on her heavily-curtained windows.
He was out there, she knew. Just outside the window.
She had only to step across and call him in.
Part of her longed to do exactly that; but the other part reminded her sternly that he was the one who had made her what she was.
She turned swiftly away and headed back down the hall. She never paused outside the door of the room that had been her mother's; or the one that had belonged to Dawn. Both were lost to her forever,leaving holes in her heart that nothing could heal.
Instead she sat down on the staircase, and buried her blonde head in her arms.
The tears that fell were tinged with blood.
"I know," she admitted, But we were in need of your help."
"For Amy?" Michael stared bitterly at the brown rat that looked gravely back as it it knew him.
"For Xander." Willow's voice was softly sympathetic. "There was nothing we could do for Amy."
"Nothing," Tara confirmed. "Willow tried, lots of times, b..b..but we..."
"Forget it! I'm going." Michael started for the door.
"I don't think so," Willow murmured.
Tara blew a cloud of green powder at Michael; and he dropped like a stone.
"Chain him," Willow said calmly. "It won't be for long."
She stepped closer to the glass case and touched it caressingly. "Hear that, Xander? Not long now."
"Giles, what..." Buffy eyed her dishevelled Watcher in alarm.
"I know what Willow's up to!" he interrupted. "A reanimation spell- of the kind the Annointed One intended to use to raise the Master!"
"Will she succeed?" Buffy paced in agitation.
"She very well may," Giles conceded. "The spell requires three witches, and..."
"The blood of those physically nearest to Xander when he died." Buffy finished. "You. Me."
"Or Anya, or Spike," Giles added. "Your blood would be the most potent, though."
"Let her try to take it!" Buffy lifted her chin definatly. "If she comes here, I'll be ready for her."
And stopped cold.
A woman was reclining on the bed, waiting for him the way she'd waited so many years before.
He took it in with numbed disbelief- the lustrous dark hair against the pillow, the eyes closed in what he'd thought was sleep...but was actually death.
"Jenny," he whispered.
She sat up, smiling alluringly, holding out her hand to him. He took a step towards her, then felt a stinging pain in the back of his neck. He put up his hand and felt the dart- tipped with a sticky blackish substance. His Watcher's brain struggled to identify it even as consciousness faded.
"We'll take Giles' car."
"Jenny" stood up and immediately became Willow again. "Take his feet," she ordered, griping the Watcher's shoulders.
Tara lowered the blowpipe. "You aren't going to hurt him?" she asked anxiously.
"Not if he cooperates. He's just bait. Now, come on!"
Tara obeyed silently, as she always did.
Buffy dragged herself slowly to her feet...not yet sunrise. Still enough of the night left to go after Michael, to try to help him...she stopped, staring at the front door.
She reached out, touching the knob; and her hand dropped as if seared by the contact.
"I can't," she whispered. "Sorry, Michael."
She lay down on the couch; and gradually sleep overwhelmed her exhaustion.
"It's about time you woke up!" Willow's voice, with that petulant note it always had held once she adopted the use of witchcraft.
But she wasn't speaking to him; but to Michael, bound to the opposite wall.
"I'll never help you!" Michael said defiantly.
Willow smiled a mean little smile that chilled Giles' blood.
Then she turned away and scooped up a large black cat dozing nearby.
"Well, Miss Kitty, hungry yet?" she crooned.
Deliberately, she unhooked the cage that held the Amy rat.
"Willow, no!" cried Tara. "Please don't!"
Ignoring her, the witch lifted the cat closer to the rat now squealing in terror.
"Stop it!" Beads of sweat stood out on Michael's face. "Don't hurt Amy; and I'll do whatever you say!"
Willow laughed, and placed the disappointed cat on the floor. "I knew it...best friends aren't easily replaced."
Giles decided to make a plea of his own. "Willow, please...think about what you are doing. He wouldn't want this."
Willow's eyes flashed green fire. "'He'? He has a name! Xander Harris- remember?"
"Of course I do." Giles ' voice held firm. "I remember everything about Xander, and I am telling you: HE WOULD NOT WANT YOU TO DO THIS!"
"How do you know?" Willow snapped. "You think he wanted to die at twenty-one? Is that what Xander wanted?"
Giles took a deep breath. "What Xander wanted was to help Buffy. You KNOW that! You know...or you did once."
Willow tilted her bright red head to one side. "She didn't help us though, did she?"
"Willow, she tried!"
"Not enough, not nearly enough! But she managed to SAVE her pet vampire! And he turned on her, made her into a monster like him!"
"Like you plan to do with Xander?"
"You shut up!" Willow shrilled. "I'll get Xander back; you'll see!"
"It won't be Xander!" Giles heard the ragged edge that had crept into his voice but he kept on. "It will be some...SHELL of Xander, a zombie that looks like him outwardly but inside is hollow..."
"I told you to shut up!' Willow took a single step towards Giles. "One more word, and I swear I'll cut your tongue out!"
He stared at her grimly, never doubting that she'd do it. Cursing his weakness, knowing that her study of black magic was corrupting her but needing her resources to help Buffy. If he had only intervened in the beginning....but he knew that he could not have stopped her."
Willow nodded in satisfaction. "Time to get started. Make the call, Tara."
She took a single step towards the door and then paused.
And began to whimper. "I can't. I can't go out there."
She pushed her long hair back, away from her face. "But, it's Giles."
Buffy swallowed hard. "I have to."
She took a deep breath, and opened the door. "I can do this."
She was trembling so violently she could hardly walk.
"It's Giles," she said- and stepped over the threshhold.
It was then she heard the voice in her head, "You always fall for it, every single time!"
Angelus' voice, mocking her.
Buffy stood still, remembering those times she allowed herself to be lured into a trap. She knew she needed help; and there was only one place to find it.
The bottle was almost empty; he'd need another soon. Spike dragged himself wearily to his feet and headed out. But just outside his crypt he received an enormous shock.
Six vampires ringed a single victim.
Silently Spike stalked forward, prepared to intervene, when suddenly the leader, a huge male with a shaven head and studded leather vest, came crashing through the air and landed not ten feet away.
"You're gonna pay for that, bitch!" he growled, lumbering to his feet. "I don't like fledlings who haven't learned their place."
"You'll teach her what it is, right Ram?" suggested one of the six, with a lewd wink.
"I'll do that." Ram moved forward just as two of his minions leaped in. The girl dodged them adroitly, turned to face Ram, and nearly gave Spike a seizure. Buffy! Buffy the Vampire Slayer, in action.
Ram was still confident but a shade more cautious about approaching her. His men closed in; but Buffy managed to stake one while tripping the other.
"This is a fight you can't win, girl," Ram warned. "Give up now, and I'll go easy on you."
"In your dreams," Buffy retorted, shoving a stake through another minion.
But then Ram's powerful punch staggered her. She rebounded in an instant, but by then Spike was in the fight, taking on- and out- the two remaining minions.
He turned to watch as Ram slammed Buffy against a nearby headstone. Spike hesitated, uncertain. Together the two of them could take out Ram in a heartbeat, yet he sensed that this was something she needed to do by herself. For herself.
Ram rushed her again, and Spike's heart leapt into his throat; but at the last second she danced away while Ram hit the headstone hard. He grabbed it, hefted it up high to smash down on her...only to howl in frustrated rage as she rolled aside,reaching for another stake.
Spike relished the look on Ram's face as it slid smoothly into his chest.
There was a burst of dust; and then Spike and Buffy stood alone in the graveyard.
Spike gazed at her for a long minute, and then foolishly, he began to applaud.
"What're you doing?"
How he'd missed that edge in her voice!
"Buffy the Vampire Slayer is back."
Her eyes widened. Then she flung herself at him, tiny fists that could paralyze a human male beating angrily against his chest.
"Why? WHY? Why'd you do it, Spike? Did you hate me that much?"
He closed his eyes, weary with the futility of explaining. "No. I loved you, that much."
She took a single step back, reluctant to touch him.
He didn't move; but kept on talking, hopeless though it was that she would ever understand.
"I couldn't let you go."
Buffy sighed. "Didn't you even think about what turning would mean for me?"
He couldn't lie, couldn't pretend that his act had been anything less than selfish.
"Yeah, I know. But...I couldn't let you go." He met her accusing eyes. "I'm sorry, luv. I mean, I'm sorry you hate me so much. But I'm not sorry for turning you. And I'm not sorry for loving you."
"LOVING me?" the incredulous, disdainful tone made him wince; but he was defiant as the words he'd said a decade ago were suddenly in his mouth again.
"It might not be pretty, but it's real."
And then she was advancing on him, fire in her eyes.
"Damn you, Spike!" she raged. "Nobody- EVER- was as mean to me as you were! Not ever!"
The vampire stared at her in bewilderment. "Mean to you? When did I really hurt you?"
"That's all you've ever done!" she shouted. "Do you think it didn't hurt when you said I wasn't worth a second go? That no man would want me for long?"
He stared at her in shock. He had long ago forgotten those early jibes; apparently, she hadn't.
"I didn't mean it," he said lamely.
She snorted in disbelief.
"I didn't!" he insisted. He had a sudden vivid picture of himself- so needy, so clueless as to how to get her attention. His attempts at courtship had resembled those of a ten-year-old boy. But he didn't know, had never understood...
"I was jealous, and so I wanted to hurt you. It was what I'd learned from Dru...to hurt. To torment; and if all else fails, chain her up until she's ready to listen to reason."
Buffy looked at him as if he'd suddenly sprouted two heads. "Spike.....Drusilla was insane."
It seemed so clear now. When she put it like that. But back then...he clenched his hands, his protests, his justifications, dying on his lips.
Finally he nodded at the stake she still held. "I love you, Buffy. God, I love you so bloody much! Maybe I didn't...I should have..."
He broke off. "Oh bollocks! Just bloody do it!"
"Don't tempt me," she said. But her anger was gone; she lowered the stake. "But not now, because I need your help."
"Anything you say, pet!" Spike tried not to sound too eager.
"But- after we rescue Giles- you and I are due for a long talk!"
Spike sighed. He could tell the talk would mean a good deal of grovelling on his part. Still, at least she was speaking to him again. After ten years, it was a big step. Even if she spent the next decade yelling at him, it was progress. Of a sort.
"Anything you say, pet," he repeated hopefully.
Was it his imagination, or did Xander's inert form stir slightly?
With an elated cry, Willow dropped to her knees beside the husk that was once Xander Harris.
"Xander! Xander, come back! Come back to me, now!"
The brown eyes opened wide- and with a strange, jerky motion, Xander sat up.
Willow sobbed with joy, flinging her arms around him; but there was no reaction from the young man who stared blankly into space, ignoring her frantic caresses.
Giles felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle...Xander was so...empty.
It was Tara who spoke his thought. "What's wrong with him? He's like a zombie!"
Willow whirled around- her closed fist hit Tara and sent her richocheting into the wall. "Shut UP! He's almost back, he IS. All we need is Buffy's blood to bring him the rest of the way. And soon we'll have it."
Giles could keep silent no longer. He had to try again to reach her. "Willow, don't you see? That isn't Xander, Xander's gone! That is just the outer shell..."
She hit him even harder than she'd struck Tara; he felt his lip split and his mouth fill with blood. He coughed once to ward off the choking while she stared with narrowed eyes.
"You know, Giles," she said thoughtfully, "we really don't need you any longer. Buffy will show up anyway."
"Got that right."
Willow whirled towards the sound of that voice; and Giles felt his heart swell with a sudden burst of hope.
Buffy...Buffy stood poised on the stair, eyes taking in Xander's immobile body, the bound figures of Michael and Giles, and Tara huddled weeping on the floor.
Willow stepped forward, smiling again. "I knew you'd come," she said contemptuously. "You were always so predictible."
"Weren't we all predictible, Will?" Buffy asked. "I thought I knew you...you and Xander...as well as I knew myself."
Incredibly, Willow began to laugh. "KNEW us? YOU?"
Abruptly she stopped laughing. "Did you know Xander would have died for you? Well yeah, I guess you did. But did you understand why? He LOVED you. Like some...sacred shrine. The Slayer. And you, you had no thought for anyone except your pet vampire!"
"Willow, you know I cared about Xander," Buffy began.
The witch ignored her. Extending both arms, she began chanting another spell, and Buffy knew she had only seconds to act. Deliberately she launched herself full force at Willow, only to go careering away as she struck an invisible shield.
Willow was warded!
Buffy glanced over at Michael. "Please," she pleaded, "can't you stop her?"
He tried; instantly he began a counterspell.
"Oh no you don't," snapped Willow. She made a gesture...and Michael screamed in agony.
Willow then turned her basilisk stare on Buffy; and instantly the Slayer felt frozen in place. She felt a stirring of panic. Where was Spike? If he failed...
She shook off her sudden doubt, forced to use the only weapon remaining to her- her tongue.
"Very good," she said sarcastically. "You've improved in the last decade; but then, you had help."
Willow frowned. "What are you talking about?"
"Tara," Buffy nodded towards the still-sobbing wiccan. "You wouldn't have got far without her, would you?"
"That's not true," the redhead snapped.
"Of course," Buffy continued dreamily, "almost everyone who tried spellcasting was better at it than you. Somehow, on your own, you kept screwing up."
"Liar!" Willow screamed. "I am the most powerful witch to ever live on the hellmouth! Better than Tara, better than Amy, better than Catherine the Great!"
"Catherine the Great," Buffy echoed, something nagging at her mind. Then she had it.
"Catherine...her spells! Is that why you went back in, the night we fought her? To find Catherine's spells? And Xander...oh, God! How could you do it, Will?"
"I told you to shut up!" Willow's eyes flashed, and a searing pain filled Buffy's chest. Gasping, she doubled over, feeling as if a giant hand was clutching at her heart.
Then Spike made his move.
The length of rope snaked around Willow's throat, yanking her backward and up, up against the stair railing.
Buffy found herself able to move again. Hastily she seized the keys and began unlocking the shackles that held Giles.
"Spike!" Giles yelled a warning over Buffy's shoulder.
She spun around to see Tara plunge a wooden stake deep into Spike's back!
"Noooo!"
Buffy felt herself screaming, but there was no sound.
Giles grabbed her shoulders. "We have to get out of here!"
Buffy shook her head stubbornly. She couldn't, wouldn't leave Spike.
The blond vampire staggered back, dropping the rope as he and Willow both plummeted to the floor.
Tara was still weeping; but she crawled over to Spike's supine body and lifted the stake once more- for the death blow.
This time Buffy heard her cry of protest as she flew at Tara, barely in time to deflect her aim. For one instant Tara stared pleadingly into Buffy's eyes, as if begging forgiveness.
Then Buffy felt a sharp blow on the back of her head- and slid into the dark.
"Buffy..." someone was stroking her hair, cradling her in safe, strong arms. She fought to open eyes that seemed welded shut. Images swam into view; finally her vision cleared and she could see...
"Xander?" her voice filled with wonder.
His brown eyes met hers. But something was wrong. They were blank, lacking the warmth, the caring, that had always filled Xander's eyes whenever he looked at her.
Buffy stirred, and the chains holding her down clinked hollowly. She turned her head, and saw the IV that was transferring her blood to Xander.
"I told you I'd bring him back," Willow gloated. "And once I take your blood, he'll be his old self again!"
"My blood?" Buffy struggled to sit up, realized she couldn't, and gave up the effort. "I have vampire blood!"
"Slayer blood!" Willow snapped.
But Buffy heard the note of uncertainty in her voice and pushed her advantage. "Vampire blood now. Besides, you can only restore Xander with the blood of those closest to him when he died. Closest to him...and that's you, Willow."
The witch was silent.
"What's the matter?" Buffy sneered. "For all your great love for Xander, you don't care enough to offer any of your own blood? Mine isn't working!"
It wasn't; instead of gaining strength, Xander was visibly weakening. Still, he kept stroking Buffy's hair like an automaton.
"I would do anything for Xander!" Willow snapped.
Furiously she yanked the IV from Buffy's arm and inserted it into her own.
"What are you doing?" Tara cried out.
But the color began returning to Xander's pallid skin.
"Willow, stop!" Tara exclaimed. "You're giving too much!"
Giles made an effort. "Willow, this is folly! You won't be able to spare enough blood for Xander. Please, I beg you to stop this right now."
Willow ignored him, entirely absorbed in Xander.
Weakened by blood loss, Buffy could only watch helplessly as Xander suddenly jerked. His eyes closed, then opened wide.
"Buffy?" he asked.
Willow's eyes filled with tears. "I knew I could bring you back." She reached for him, smiling happily, but he eluded her touch.
"Buffy?" he repeated. He frowned, as if in puzzlement.
"Forget her!" Willow struggled to stand erect. "You're with me once more; that's all that matters."
But Xander didn't listen; instead he began tugging at Buffy's chains in a frenzy.
"What are you doing? Stop!" Willow caught Xander's arm.
He backhanded her with such force that she flew across the room and crashed against the wall. She stared up at him from a crumpled heap on the floor.
"Xander?"
He kept pulling frantically at Buffy's chains, oblivious to everything around him.
Giles took charge. "Xander," he said authoritatively, "get the keys from Willow! You need the keys to help Buffy."
Instantly Xander dropped the chains and crossed the room to Willow's side.
"Xander, don't," the witch begged. "You're back, you're here with me again..."
Xander tore the keys from the pocket of her long skirt and turned back to Buffy.
"No!" Willow hurled herself at him, fastening onto his back like a limpet. Tara, desperate to help her lover, tried to grab Xander's shoulders.
But Willow was suffering from her blood loss; Xander simply reached back and hoisted her over his head. She landed hard.
Then he caught up the stake in Tara's belt. With the ease of long practice, he slid it smoothly into Willow's chest.
"Willow!" shrieked Tara. She threw herself on Xander, kicking and screaming wildly. Together they crashed into the glass coffin, shattering it into a thousand glinting shards.
Michael lifted his head and began chanting softly. Slowly the keys levitated and moved towards Giles. The Watcher seized them, freed himself, then rushed to Buffy's side.
He helped her to her feet- and the two of them stared at the carnage all around them.
Tara lay covered in blood, her head nearly severed from from the edge of the coffin, seeming to stare at Willow's lifeless body.
Xander stirred. A large piece of glass protruded from his chest, and the blood was pumpling out hard.
"Xand?" Buffy faltered.
His dark eyes met hers, and smiled in satisfaction to see that she was free.
Then, they closed forever.
Tears spilled from Buffy's eyes as she looked at her three former friends, now together in death.
But there was one more body. Hesitantly she crossed the blood-spattered floor, fearful of what she would find.
Tara's stake had missed his heart, but only just.
Buffy tore Spike's shirt loose and packed it tightly around the wound.
"He'll be all right, Buffy." Giles stood above her, supporting a shaky Michael.
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
"Maybe we should get him to a hospital," suggested Michael.
Buffy shook her head.
"No," she said with determination. "He'll be better off at home. "
A huge swell of emotion filled her.
"Where I can look after him."
"Only one, Amy?" Buffy shook her blonde head and glanced across the table at Spike. "I have problems with most of it!"
The five of them- Buffy, Spike, Giles, Amy and Michael- were seated in the Magic Box discussing the traumatic events of the previous week.
"Like what, pet?" Spike reached for his coffee mug but could only grasp it awkwardly.
"Buffy..." he whined.
"No." The firmness in her tone brooked no argument. "Keep that sling on."
Spike sighed; but brightened when she stood up, picked up his mug, and tilted it so he could drink.
"Like," Amy interjected, "how were you able to derat me, after all these years?"
Giles cleared his throat. "Once we had access to Catherine the Great's ...to your mother's spellbooks, Michael and I managed to reverse the transmogrification spell."
He did not tell her how simple the reversal had proved; Willow must have had the knowledge for many years.
But Michael knew; and his dark eyes smoldered, softening only when they rested on Amy.
"What I don't see," Spike admitted, "is why Xander turned on the witch when she was trying to bring him back!"
Giles stared into the distance. "It wasn't Xander; not really. Willow never had that kind of power. But the shell of him...I think that may have retained some of Xander's essence. And the very core of his nature was to help Buffy! That was his mantra- the one thing left after all his life's affections had been ripped away. So in the end, all he could see were two witches who were a threat to the Slayer- and he acted to nullify that threat."
Buffy's eyes filled with tears. "I wish we could have saved him."
"It was his choice,pet," Spike said gently.
Michael pulled Amy to her feet. "It's getting late," she murmured.
But at the door they both hesitated.
"Buffy," Amy said slowly, "if you...well, if you plan to go back to fighting demons and could use a little help from a witch..."
"And a warlock," Michael added.
"What I mean is, Michael and I are staying on in Sunnydale," Amy concluded. "Please, call me? I really want to ...I feel we
would make a good team."
Giles held his breath as he watched Buffy's face. But she thanked Amy and Michael with every appearance of sincerity.
Spike and Buffy left soon after, heading for the house on Revello Drive. Buffy did not seem very talkative; so Spike remained silent too, going directly up the stairs to the room that had once been Joyce's and sitting on the bed to think.
Since the deaths at the Rosenberg house, Buffy seemed to have gotten over the agoraphobia that had made her a prisoner. She'd been going to the Magic Box to work out every night; once she'd even gone to the mall and come back laden with packages, several of which were for him.
She'd tended his wounds with care; she'd fed him and helped him dress.
He was pleased that she didn't seem angry with him any longer.
But still, they were more like roommates than...well, than anything else.
There was a soft tap on the door, and Buffy walked in.
"I just wanted to check on your wound."
Carefully she unwrapped the bandage and breathed a sigh of relief. "It's healed."
"I've been trying to tell you that for three days," Spike growled. "Now can I take off that poncey sling?"
She considered him thoughtfully. "Uh-huh. Now that you're all better."
He looked at her uncertainly. Was she hinting he could get his stuff and clear out?
But it seemed she had something else in mind.
"What...did you think...about what Amy said?"
"What did you think yourself, pet?"
She looked away. "I'm not the Slayer anymore."
Spike chose his words carefully. "About that, luv...well, you don't have to be a Slayer to fight evil. Xander wasn't."
"You're right." Her big eyes glistened with unshed tears, but she gave him a tiny smile. "It could be...for Xander. A kind of ..."
"In memoriam," Spike said softly. "It would be a worthy epitaph, luv."
Buffy gave him a quick, sideways glance. "But will you...help me?"
"I'll always help you."
It was a short, explosive vow- but said with an intensity that pleased her.
Her smile widened. "We'll have a meeting tomorrow, and develop a battle plan."
"But for tonight, you need to get some sleep," Spike urged.
Later- much later- he was to swear he'd been innocent; that he'd meant nothing at all....
But her rosebud mouth gaped; and suddenly he was unsure what he'd intended.
"With you, Spike?" the low tone conveyed her uncertainty.
In answer, he merely stood up, took her hand, and led her into her own bedroom. He undressed her gently, slowly- then ruined the effect by stripping off his own clothes in a frenzy, frantic to join her in bed.
Much later still, in the following afternoon, he woke to find her snuggling shamelessly against him.
"Mmmm, that's my girl," he murmured sleepily.
She raised herself on one elbow to glare at him.
"Who?" she asked pointedly.
He chuckled, and kissed the top of her head. "Only you, baby. My Buffy."
Mollified, she wound both arms around his neck. "We should get up. There's the meeting at the Magic Box, and after that we have patrolling."
He didn't answer, his mouth fully occupied in trailing kisses over her velvet skin.
"Or...I guess we could wait until a little later," Buffy conceded.
Spike lifted his head, blue eyes dark with passion.
"We'll wait until a LOT later," he ordered.
Buffy opened her mouth to argue, but he kissed her so thoroughly and satisfyingly that she forgot what she wanted to say.
Oh well, she decided, first things first.
And kissed him back.
Giles glanced irritably up from his books as the shop door opened. "We're closed."
He stood at the base of the tree, eyes trained on the house at Revello Drive.
"You lied to me!" Michael accused. He was so angry he could scarcely speak without choking, but the red-haired witch merely smiled.
Giles banged frantically on Buffy's front door, alerting the vampire nearby.
Giles sighed as he unlocked the door to his apartment; then hastily locked it again. Wearily he climbed the stair to his bedroom.
Slowly Giles swam up to the surface of awareness...the light hurt his eyes unbearably, but after a few minutes they adjusted and he could see once more.
Stunned, Buffy replaced the phone and stared out into the yard. Willow...Willow had Giles!
Willow intoned the ritual slowly, carefully- as Giles watched helplessly through the fumes that steamed from the bubbling cauldron.
Epilogue
"But there's one thing I still don't understand," the pretty brunette leaned back within Michael's encircling arm.
The End
TBC