“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.

Great plan you had there, Dawn. Nothing terrifying about this at all...nope...no sir. So now what?

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.

Maybe this will finally show them. Show all of them. I’m NOT just a kid. And when I have good ideas - which is, like, always - they should listen to me, sheesh.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“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.

I swear to God, Spike. If I ever see your pale, bloodsucking ass again I’m going to stick a stake into your chest and cheerily wave you on your way to a dusty hell.

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.

Fight. Damn it, fight. Rage against the perpetrator of such harsh cruelty.

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.

Attack the interloper. The thief in the night. The warrior sent to destroy. Crush, bash, tear, rip him away from the two that were now one as you had been ripped away to become one out of two. Pain. Give pain. Inflict scalpel blades of cold, fiery, split-open badness. The time was now.

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.

Chapter Fourteen

It was the pounding that woke him, a ceaseless hammering that echoed in his throbbing head. It sounded like someone had taken a club to an empty oil drum and was intent on beating the thing into oblivion. Slamming at him from everywhere, surrounding him, it set up in his brain, making his eyeballs pulse achingly behind closed lids. It felt like the mother of all hangovers, multiplied times infinity.

Spike didn’t want to move, didn’t want to open his eyes. He knew where he was. He figured hell would sound quite a bit like this.

His whole body was on fire. Every part of him, inside and out, was one huge ouch. The storm that whisked him out of heaven had done a number on him before tossing him out, hurling him to where he now lay - sprawled on his stomach on a hard, rocky ground.

Doubting the banging would go away anytime soon - hell was all about the eternal torment, now, wasn’t it? - he braced himself before opening his eyes on what would be his home for the next...well, forever.

Groaning in pain despite his determination not to let the place get the better of him, he rolled over and pushed himself up on one elbow. When he finally convinced his brain that vision might be one of those necessary things, his eyes cracked open a little and he winced anew at the bashing sound around him.

What he saw - when he finally could - made him forget all about the head-splitting noise.

~*~*~*~*~*~

One very nervous entity cast a surreptitious glance at the vibrating fury that was the warrior in front of him. Her expression hadn’t changed. Buffy stood at the top of the stairs, the empty room behind her, with her arms crossed over her chest. Belligerent and proud, she glared hard at the lone Oracle.

The sister was gone. On a mission. Buffy had demanded that she go to the Powers and get them to release Spike from heaven. As she had been quite sure that the Powers would be less than sympathetic to a vampire’s plight, she had ended up needing a little encouraging, so the brother was currently being held as a kind of hostage to the Slayer’s dictates.

It was the right card to play - the one thing that his sister truly cared about above and beyond her duties was her sibling. She had left grudgingly but hastily, impotent to do anything else to protect her brother.

He wasn’t afraid that Buffy would kill him, he knew her better than that, but it was well within her to hurt him quite a lot. And his kind weren’t known for a high pain threshold - they had never needed to be.

The brother sincerely hoped that the vampire had not yet been terminated. The Chosen One would not be pleased. Or if he had, that the Powers would bring him back from hell, as he knew they had done one other.

The vampire with a soul had been released, set back on his path by the Powers. Unlike the other realm, the Powers held dominion over hell. It would actually be easier, if quite a bit more damaging to the vampire, if he was already there. But it was the potential damage that worried the brother. He could only imagine what the Slayer would do then. And none of the things that sprang to mind boded well for him...or his sister.

He wondered what it was between this vampire and this Slayer that was so powerful that one would willingly give up his life for the safety of the world and the other would threaten that very safety, just to make sure the other survived. What could drive two individuals into taking actions that were diametrically opposed to their very natures?

Try as he might, he couldn’t fathom the reason.

And when his unquenchable curiosity, his nature, got the best of him, and he reached out his mind to the Chosen One to delve into her reasons, he couldn’t contain the utter surprise when he realized he couldn’t read a thing from her. Nothing. She was completely blocked off from his mental inquiry.

Buffy felt the soft, questioning caress tickle her mind and knew who was responsible. She watched with a half grin as the Oracle realized he no longer had access to her thoughts. And she felt a sense of righteous satisfaction when he gawked at her with an amusingly ridiculous, opened-mouth gape.

“You know,” she drawled, “in polite circles, one would ask a question out loud instead of dipping into a person’s mind uninvited. But then, polite isn’t exactly your forte, is it?”

The Oracles eyes swept the room, the floor at his feet, looking anywhere but at her. His confusion and fear were palpable. When he finally spoke, his words told Buffy just how rattled he really was.

“I-I d-do not understand. This is unexpected. You should n-not be able to b-block my mind. You should not be able to feel my mental touch. H-how is this possible?”

It was actually a good question, one that Buffy would like the answer to, herself. She tilted her head slightly and narrowed her eyes at the flustered creature in front of her.

“Why don’t you tell me? You are one of the all-knowing duo, right? And while you’re at it, why don’t you astound me with the sense making this time. I know it’s a foreign concept but I bet if you try really hard, you can do it. And, hey, while I’m being the wowed and amazed girl, I’ll be less likely to hurt you.”

Wide-eyed and worried that she expected him to tell her things he didn’t understand himself, he stammered at her.

“I-I do n-not know. I-I s-swear to you. I do not know. I can only tell you what I know.”

Buffy rolled her eyes, fed up with the entity. As much as it irritated her, she couldn’t help but believe him. He was too scared to tell her anything but the truth. “So tell me what you do know, then.”

Grateful at the reprieve from possible bodily injury, he rushed to fill her in on all the details. “Your time in the realm changed you, gave you a balance that had not been there before. It is a balance that the Powers, through the trials set forth for you, had been fostering, but it came about much quicker than originally foreseen...and has evidenced itself in a much different way than they had intended, though that is hardly of importance now.”

The Oracle was so intent on spilling out the words as fast as possible, he didn’t notice the tension that went through the Slayer at that last bit. He just rambled on, relieved that she was still standing several feet away instead of gripping him around the throat as she had his sister.

“This balance has allowed you full access to your powers. You are now stronger and better than you have ever been. I am sure you feel the difference, I would imagine you could not help but feel it.”

Buffy nodded purposely but didn’t say anything. She felt it all right, but she had no intention of telling that little green and gold worm the first thing about it. It was for her alone, and it was glorious. It was victory. It was peace. And there was a clarity the likes of which Buffy had never known before.

Ever since she felt that swirling power descend for the first time in the Oracle’s chamber, she was awash in an indescribable blend of both separateness and togetherness. It was a contradiction but there was no other way to explain it. It was as if each part of her had been distilled and separated even as a fraction of both had been blended together in a blessedly new way. No longer muddy and painful as it had been before her death, but clear. The two sides now worked in conjuncture, complimenting each other instead of fighting each other.

She had never felt as perfectly whole as she did now. As if the internal struggle she had warred with for five long years had finally been resolved and both sides, Buffy and Slayer, girl and Chosen One, had won.

She wondered what the Oracle meant when he said that the Powers had intended something different. This amazing feeling she now had made her want to know what they had intended.

Before she could ask, there was a brief flash of light in the archway in front of her. When her eyes readjusted, Buffy could see that the sister had returned. Questions would have to wait.

At the look on the sister’s face, the stunned and horrified and totally bewildered look on the green and gold face of the female Oracle that had been so high and mighty not that long ago, Buffy’s Slayer sense shot into overdrive.

And she knew, from deep inside her she knew, that nothing would be the same for her ever again.

The velvet cloak of power wrapped itself even more tightly around her. Tingling with the energy, she sucked in a deep breath to steady herself. Her body trembled even as her stomach dropped to her knees.

There was nothing on the sister’s face that heralded any good news for Spike. Or for the Slayer that loved him.

When she saw the sister’s expression, an expression that was telling her things that she would never accept, it hit her. Buffy finally realized it. Finally saw it. Finally stopped denying it. The knowledge, the acceptance - the swamping emotion - crashed down on her in a wave of relief and agony all at once, almost knocking her to her knees with its intensity.

She loved Spike.

And no one - no Powers, no Oracles, no one - was going to take him away from her.

Not even realizing it, she snarled low in her throat. It was a primeval response to the threat that was facing her. In two steps she had the shaking entity gripped by the shoulders and lifted slightly off the ground.

“Tell me!” She yelled. “What is it? What did they tell you? Where is he?!”

The sister heard her, felt the pinching grip on her arms, but couldn’t answer her. She was too wrapped up in her own confusion and horror. Instinctively reaching out her mind to her brother for help, she heard him gasp as she sent him the truth about what had become of the vampire. Knowing that as he saw it, and when he told the Slayer what he saw, they were most likely both going to be killed.

Buffy heard the brother’s gasp as well, and her head shot around to pin him with a deadly glare as she threw the useless female away from her in disgust, not caring a whole hell of a lot when she fell back into the wall and grunted in pain and surprise.

Stalking to the brother with predatory intent, she watched as he processed what his sister was telling him mentally. Unlike the female, he seemed resigned to what he saw. Or maybe he was resigned to what Buffy was going to do to them when he told her what he know knew. Either way, he managed to look at her with something akin to calmness in his eyes.

“Spike is gone.”

He didn’t even flinch when her hand snaked out and gripped him around the throat. He didn’t cower under her slicing words.

“What do you mean he’s gone? You mean he’s not in heaven? Is he already in hell? Tell me now, damn it! And don’t even think about holding out on me or I swear to God, I’ll make you wish you hadn’t.”

With each question, each rage and fear filled demand, her hand flexed tighter and tighter around his neck and he had to gasp a bit for air. Still, his calm never faltered.

“Not in heaven. Not in hell. He is gone.”

With a tremendous show of will, Buffy brought her fury under control. There was nothing she could do about the fear that ate at her. She wanted to hurt the oddly colored creature, she really did, but her need for information overrode the need to see him in as much pain as she was. She let go of his throat abruptly, so abruptly he staggered at the release, and stepped back to give him some breathing room. Not out of any sense of courtesy, but out of the demanding necessity to get the story from him as fast as possible.

“What in the hell are you talking about?”

The Oracle sighed. This was in no way going to be an easy telling. He was still trying to grasp what his sister had sent to him. This was something that had never happened before.

“The Powers had been watching the vam...Spike's progress through the realm. They were able to view but in no way interfere. After you were removed, they watched the realm gather its forces to destroy him, as was expected. He should have been sent directly to the realm you know as hell. He was not. They are...unsure of what happened. You have to understand, they are the Powers, they have the ability to track every creature through every dimension that exists. Regardless of whether the creature is alive or dead - they have that ability. That...technology, if you will. They cannot locate Spike. He is gone. And they have no idea where he is, or how this could have happened. They are as confused and upset by this development as you are.”

Shrieking agony born from loss howled through Buffy’s soul but she didn’t break eye contact with the Oracle. In a hoarse whisper she told him, “Somehow, I highly doubt that is even remotely possible.”

It was stabbing, the pain. Hacking into her grotesquely, making her physically ill. She didn’t know what to do. If the Powers couldn’t find him, didn’t know where he was, what could she do? What was left for the Slayer to do?

Buried under the weight of her torment, she stumbled back a step before collapsing to her knees. Her thin but powerful arms wrapped around her stomach and she held on for dear life, clutching herself as she rocked against wave after wave of sorrow and grief. She was beyond tears, beyond sobs; the feelings were so strong they numbed her to her surroundings.

Buffy didn’t even feel the ground under her shift slightly, or tremble a bit as she knelt there. She didn’t see the waters in the shallow pool in front of her start to froth and jump erratically. She didn’t see the Oracles look at each other in surprise and fear as the pillars in the room started to sway dangerously.

And when the room tilted crazily, bucking and falling around her, all she felt was the loss of the man that was more than a man in much the same way that she was more than just a girl. And the heartache that came from not having the time to tell him that as she accepted both sides of herself, so too did she accept him.

And the tearing, searing, blinding pain caused by the bleak truth that she would never get to tell him that she loved him.

~*~*~*~*~*~

When Xander pulled Giles’ car back into the driveway and got out, he saw that the Watcher hadn’t moved an inch from where they’d left him. They’d been gone about thirty minutes and he hadn’t moved. A worried frown set on Xander’s face when he saw how haggard and tired Giles looked. He sighed.

Xander didn’t know if he could survive another loss like the one that had hit him when Buffy died, he was sure that Giles couldn’t.

Pasting a smile on his face, he hid his fear and doubt deep in the dark recesses of himself, recesses that he only looked at late at night, when he was alone.

“The cavalry has arrived, chock full of magickal spell making goodness. Any change?”

Giles didn’t even turn and look at him. “No. The energy appears to be sustaining itself quite effectively.”

Anya walked up next to Xander. “So, what do we do now? Ju- ”

She didn’t get to finish her question; it was cut off abruptly by the rolling ground underneath her feet.

The gang struggled to stay upright as the trembling subsided. They breathed a sigh of relief. A small earthquake was hardly enough to blink at after everything that they had been through and were going through. They exchanged sheepish grins, each one feeling their heartbeats returning to normal, embarrassed that a quake as small as that one had even effected them at all.

None of them were prepared when the next one hit, and the earth rose and fell alarmingly, dropping each one of them from where they stood. Exclamations of fear and horror were torn from all of them.

“Shit!” Yelled Xander as he bounced painfully along the pitching ground, railing against this new bit of nastiness, cursing the heavens, the powers, whatever was toying with them so unmercifully, “You have GOT to be fucking kidding me!!”

No one else said anything, they were too busy trying to stay out of the way of falling electrical polls and swaying trees. If it was a joke, if someone was indeed kidding them, it was by no means funny.

~*~*~*~*~*~

It wasn’t the astonishingly beautiful landscape. It wasn’t the snow-capped mountains in the distance or the lush green fields filled with flowers off to his left, cut through by the bubbling water of a small stream. It wasn’t even the shockingly blue sky or the sunshine beaming down on him warmly - and non-fatally - that had him staring slack-jawed and stunned.

Nope. None of that. What had Spike’s brain frantically scrambling to catch up with what his wide, demon-gold eyes were telling him was the positively adorable little girl that was sitting, cross-legged, not more than two feet from where he had been thrown, staring at him calmly and completely fearlessly.

Pixie curls of golden sunlight, a cherub’s face, button nose, and an angelic smile of amusement sat atop a tiny little body clad in well worn cut-off jean shorts and a lavender tank top with a picture of a...rearing unicorn of all things. Small, adorable bare feet peeked out from under her knees. Spike wasn’t certain, but he thought he saw her toenails painted with glitter nail polish.

She couldn’t have been any older than seven. Or, she couldn’t have been if it wasn’t for her eyes and the fact that there was no doubt in the vampire’s mind that the creature in front of him, this amazingly modern looking Shirley Temple type being, was in no way human - nor had she ever been human.

Her eyes weren’t a single color, they were a rainbow of all colors, and the colors were changing, swirling around even as he watched in wonder. They were huge, like small saucers in a precious face. And they were about as ancient as anything Spike had ever seen before. They were eyes that had seen at least seven eons, not seven years.

That, taken with the not human thing - she couldn’t be human and still be giving off a pinkish glow like she did, right? - had Spike seriously questioning just how hard a bump on the noggin he’d taken. Brain damage was the only possible explanation.

He shook his head and squeezed his eyes tightly shut, trying to stop the weird tricks they were playing on him. The bubbling, joyful sound of her giggles made him jump and he had no choice but to stare yet again. The picture hadn’t faded, the channel hadn’t changed, she was still there.

Wherever there was. One thing Spike knew, it wasn’t hell.

“Hi, Spike.” One dainty little hand reached up and waved enthusiastically at him. A perfect little row of baby teeth flashed as she grinned precociously. “Don’t worry, silly. We’re real.”

We’re? The use of the plural had Spike craning his neck around, looking for the others that the non-child referred to. As near as Spike could tell, they were alone. No one else was within sight - and his vampire sight went quite the distance, too.

The creature giggled again at the frantic search. “No, no, no. You don’t understand.”

Spike turned back to the little girl, not quite ready to speak yet, and lifted a brow questioningly.

Speaking patiently, and gesturing to herself with a careless wave, she said, “We. As in the us that is right here.”

Okay, Spike, must have been a mite worse than a bump on the head, seein’ little glowin’ chippies and what all. What’s worse than brain damage, mate?

The being saw the confusion on the vampire’s face and smiled sweetly. “It’s okay, Spike. It doesn’t matter. What’s important is that we’re here for a reason.”

The pain was finally receding to tolerable levels but the banging continued endlessly. And his temper was bubbling under his skin. As much as he wasn’t overjoyed with the idea that he was fated to spend the next good while burning in hell, he was displeased when strange, child-sized surprises of this magnitude dropped into his path. He hated it. Hated everything about it.

There was a sarcastic sneer in his voice when he finally spoke. “Reason. Right. Couldn’t let good ole Spike go on to his eternal torment without a few more pokes at the demon, eh? What are you, the bite-sized send off committee? Givin’ the vamp a view of what he’s gonna be missin’?”

Frustrated and angry at the assumption that he was still being played by the realm - even if it looked more like heaven should look now than it did before - and wincing with each pounding blast, Spike snarled. “And what in the bloody hell is that racket?!”

Appearing unperturbed by the harsh question, the little girl smiled widely. “First, this isn’t heaven. Pretty, though, isn’t it? And we’re glad you asked. That’s one of the reasons we’re here. But there are lots of reasons, so it’s not tops on the list.”

Spike glared at her. He was not amused. Furious...confused...not amused. “And just who the hell are you, pet?”

The little thing giggled again, not even slightly afraid of his menacing demeanor and cold, smooth question.

“Sorry. We can’t really tell you that. Well...okay, so that’s not completely true. We could tell you, but we won’t. You wouldn’t believe us.”

Spike snorted in derision. “Oh, now, why don’t you let me be the judge of that, luv. You’d be bloody surprised at just what I am capable of believin’ at this point. And while you go on ‘bout who you are, why not enlighten me as to where we are. Save me askin’ twice.”

Tiny shoulders lifted dramatically in a deep sigh only innocent children were capable of pulling off, but she wasn’t a child. And Spike doubted the innocence, no matter her appearance.

“Okay. But don’t say we didn’t warn you. We’re All. And you’re nowhere.”

Well, she was right. That made no sense whatsoever to the rattled vampire. But he’d be damned if he’d let her…them...whatever…know that. Stupid chit probably did it on purpose, too.

The entities stared at him, waiting for the next question, feeling it rattling around in his head - though to act on it before being spoken would be unspeakably rude. When he just grimaced and forced his game face back and away, looking around again in a mixture of surprise and wonder - and a touch of fear - they smiled wisely.

They were all there, the wonders that were them, though he was only being shown one merged vessel for easier communication. Explaining to him just what the vessel was, and who they are, would take far longer and be largely unimportant in the end.

They were pleased that he didn’t want to admit his ignorance. It made their job easier. They were also pleased that he was following true to form, choosing - making a conscious choice - to act with his humanity instead of his demon. It was further proof of his remarkableness.

“Reasons,” Spike finally said, refusing to give in to the obvious need for clarification of what she told him. He wasn’t going to ask her straight out, but there might be a way to ask around it, get some answers in a roundabout kind of way. “What reasons? And... not that I’m complainin’...but why am I not a burnin’ pyre of Spike? Generally speakin’, vampires tend to have a nasty allergic reaction to sunny rays.”

They knew what he was doing. It amused them. The decision was made among them to explain the where a little more - the ‘who’ would never be able to be explained in ways he could understand. That was too immense for him to ever hope to grasp.

“It’s not real sunlight, Spike. None of what you’re seeing is real. We told you - we’re nowhere. In a place that doesn’t exist. We’re...in between realities. And we’re here, we brought you here, because of what you have done for one of our children.”

That got Spike’s attention. His eyes widened and he sputtered in surprise. “One of your...children? I haven’t done anythin’ to any children. I can’t. I’m a neutered vamp, can’t hurt anythin’...well, except demons - oh, bloody hell. You’re not one of that hell bitch’s kin, are you? ‘Cuz I won’t be apologizin’ for how that went down. You may as well just send me on my merry way right now.”

“No, no.” Tinkling laughter bubbled over him much in the same way the creek nearby bubbled over the rocks in the streambed. “You’re funny. We said what you did for one of our children, not to one of our children. And, please, as if we would claim any relationship with that pathetic Glory creature. No, Spike, we’re talking about Buffy. What you have done for Buffy.”

The adult words mixed with the childish delight created an odd cadence of dialogue, surreal. But the minute the entity...entities...mentioned Buffy’s name, all of Spike’s motion, all of his thoughts, came to a screeching halt.

In a serious tone, and looking at the childish body through narrowed eyes, he said, “What are you, then, the Powers? Those mysterious Powers that Be that I’ve heard so much about? Why don’t you sod off with the horse and pony show, girl. I’ve no doubt you’re not what you appear to be. And if you are the Powers, you and I are gonna to go a round or two - just so there’s no mistake. I’m thinkin’ I may just have a good day in all this after all.”

He didn’t vamp out. If this creature was one of the beings that had started this whole mess, had needed Buffy to give up her rightful place in heaven, he was going to fight them, not with the demon, but with the man. He would die, no doubt about that, but they would know what they did was wrong. They’d bloody well know. He was through playing.

The entities heard the tone, saw his belief in what was right, and his disgust for the Powers - a disgust they just so happened to share. He was enraged, but he didn’t give in to the impulses that were throbbing through him. He was remarkable. But he was also right; it was time to get down to business.

In an aged voice that belied the youthful exterior, the combined entities told the vampire what he wanted to know.

“We’re not the Powers, vampire. Relax. We currently hold them in just as much contempt as you do. We are All. We are the creators of dimensions. Creators of universal realities. We are the beginning of everything. The Powers have been beneficial in policing the realities, and we have allowed them to continue in their rolls. In truth, they are not even aware of our existence. Their cause was our cause for more millennia than we can count. But they have become lax in their duties of late, and arrogant in their assumptions that they are infallible, as is evidenced by the current situation you find yourself in. We have taken it upon ourselves to step in, make our presence known - in a manner of speaking - and correct what could have been a grievous error.”

Spike’s mind was reeling. He wondered briefly just how many shocks a vampire could take before his head exploded. As the entities in front of him seemed disinclined to stop speaking, he hoped he hadn’t reached critical mass just yet.

“The Slayer is not their creation, she is ours. She is not their warrior, she is ours. They have perverted the role she was meant to play. And we don’t mean just Buffy, we have noticed a change towards our Slayers over the past several centuries, but when we Chose Buffy, we gave her more than the others. Made her more pure in her power. She should have been nurtured by the Powers, but instead she was beset by trials whose purpose was to strip from her everything that we had given her. They were under the mistaken impression that this would establish the balance that was needed to access her full potential. Unfortunately for them, they never once realized that she was different. And we made a mistake in letting it progress this far. We are now correcting that mistake by bringing you here.”

“Wait,” Spike interrupted, confused. “Not that I’d want to be defending those poncy buggers, but the two I spoke to, Oracles they were, they kept saying that Buffy was special. That she was The Chosen One. They knew that she was different.”

“You misunderstand,” the entities said, not unkindly, “or perhaps we misspoke. They knew she was The Chosen One, the Keeper of the Balance, but they never knew what was necessary for this one to reach her full potential. They tried to fit her into an outdated mold that had worked for millennia on others with less potential. They believed that the fastest way to achieve balance between two things...between the Slayer and the girl...was to remove one of them from the equation.”

Looking back on all that had been sacrificed by the Slayer that he loved in the past several years, Spike nodded, seeing the pattern and now recognizing it as an ultimately nefarious plan by ‘higher’ beings to get their way in the shortest...and, oh yeah, most painful manner. He hated them even more - if that was possible.

“And that’s where you come in, Spike. The soulless vampire with an infinite capacity for love, despite your nature.”

Spike was surprised. These entities knew him. Really knew him. And he squirmed a bit under their scrutiny.

“The irony is that the Powers got what they were working towards. As soon as Buffy died and entered the realm, she knew balance. But the part of her that was sacrificed was not the girl, as they had hoped. It was the Slayer. So you were tapped. That’s when you caught our attention. Then you did something that no one in the realities expected. You gave her back the Slayer, but Buffy didn’t lose her other side. In that one instant, in that horrible thing you did to reawaken the Slayer - that almost got you killed, by the way, the realm was going to send you to a quick demise right then and there, we restrained it - you gave her the balance that we had always wanted for her. She has evolved into the proper blend of Slayer and Buffy. And she is no longer their warrior; even now she fights against them. She is ours in total. Our child. The Keeper of the Balance as she was intended to be.”

The best...hell, the only response Spike had to all this information that was being thrust onto his shoulders so unexpectedly was, Holy Shit. He was just wise enough to prevent the words from slipping past his lips.

Floored, stunned into silence, he just gaped at the pretty non-child in front of him. It was just too much for him to take in all at once. And while he sat, quiet and humbled by the immense reality he was being made aware of, a reality that meant that Buffy was even further out of his reach than he had even guessed, the face of the angelic form in front of him smiled. There was sympathy in her incredible eyes but it was overlaid with humor. He realized, dryly, that they too had a front row seat in his brain. Sod it all. Now, why am I not surprised. What...is there a bloody book with step-by-step instructions to get into my head or somethin’? ‘Mindreadin’ Spike for Dummies’?

“She’s the same as she’s always been, Spike. Don’t think that the girl you love is in any way different because of this new balance. Or...wait...that’s not quite true, either. She is quite different. But in only the best possible ways. We think you’ll be pleased.”

Now that was just cruel. And the cruelty sliced into him as a huge surprise. It was out of character for such a tiny, cute looking creature. How could he be pleased? He would never get to marvel at the differences that are Buffy. He would never get to study the newness, learning her as he had learned her before. That was denied to him. He glanced down at his clasped hands in his lap, sorrow choking him.

They felt it, and were surprised by the flood of feeling. Then they remembered that they hadn’t told him. Oh dear. Breaking their own rule not to act on a creature’s thoughts unless those thoughts were verbalized, they spoke to him.

“Oh, Spike. We forgot to mention it, we thought you’d know.”

He didn’t raise his head. Sighing, disinterested in what they thought he didn’t know, he asked anyway - as much to give him something to say as anything. “What didn’t I bleedin’ know? That I’m not goin’ back? Sorry to disappoint, luv. I knew that.”

“No, silly. That you are going back. That’s why we stepped in and brought you here.”

Spike’s head shot up, surprised wonder and disbelief etched hauntingly on his face. He thought they just told him he was going back, but he didn’t want to get his hopes up only to have them dashed - that would be beyond painful.

“It’s true. You are. You’re needed there, Spike. Buffy’s balance is tenuous right now. Especially right now. And believe it or not, you are an integral part of that balance. Mostly because you are a man - but a little because you’re a vampire.”

Spike felt hope fade a little, and couldn’t believe what he was about to say. But it was Buffy, his Buffy, and she deserved the best. Spike knew she deserved happiness with the vampire that she loved. “Not me, then. Much as I hate to say it, she’s suffered enough. There’s another...like me...loves her like I do. And he’s a vampire with a soul. She loves him. She can be happy with him. Let her have him.”

The entities were moved, yet again, by the vampire’s willingness to sacrifice his own wants and desires for their child’s. “Angel. Yes, we know he is a vampire, and we know that he loves her. But there are two problems with your gracious sacrifice. One is, in fact, the very soul that he has.”

“Spike, it’s easy to do the right thing when you’re beleaguered by the consequences of doing the wrong thing. There’s still honor in following the just path, but Angel’s road to redemption is longer for the very reason that it pains him to not be on it. That’s not one of the burdens you bear. You don’t have a soul, but chose to do the right thing, regardless of the fact that you would feel no guilt in not doing it. In fact, you feel worse than you would’ve if you had done nothing. You saw the world that was to come if Buffy didn’t go back, your mind told you it was a bad thing, and it overrode your heart telling you that Buffy was better off where she was - despite the fact that you don’t have a soul, and wouldn’t feel the world’s pain as one who does. That’s true redemption - as much as we know it pains you to take it.”

There was a sly smile on the entities’ mouth. Spike shuddered at just how well they did know him, but he was fascinated by the words they spoke. Hope was, once again, rearing its treacherous head.

“Plus, that soul of Angel’s is insufficient in dealing with the fiery nature of the girl that you know. And then there’s the second thing...the other problem we mentioned...well, in truth, we just don’t like him as much as we like you. And we’re not the only ones who feel as such.”

He almost smiled at hearing that he was favored over the poof by these entities.

“And that banging you heard when you first arrived?”

That was odd, until they mentioned it, Spike hadn’t even realized that the banging had stopped. He was too engrossed in the things he was being told.

“That was another one of the reasons we spared you, as we mentioned. What you were hearing was a friend of yours, throwing herself into the wall between the nether realm and heaven, trying everything she knew to get in to get you out. You have amassed quite an entourage of humans willing to sacrifice themselves for you. And more willing to stand up and defend you. That’s impressive.”

Spike was really confused. He had no idea who the entities were referring to. “What do you mean, friend? What friend. What’re you on about, then?”

“Willow. The witch. She did a spell to follow your trail in the nether realm, hoping to get an idea of where you went. It was quite dangerous - she merged with your aura trail. Turned out a little different than she had anticipated, the spell went a little off for her, but we needed her to understand just what you were capable of in the emotions department. She’ll let the rest of them know. They wouldn’t just take Dawn’s word for it; they mistakenly assumed her month-long search for you was misplaced grief over her sister. Willow is unhurt, Dawn took it upon herself to go into the nether realm and get her. She is no longer connected with your aura.”

Spike didn’t know what to say. Wait...yeah, he did. Although shouting was closer to the truth.

“A-A MONTH! A bleedin’ month? Are you daft? I’ve only been on this sadistic little romp for a few days - what do you mean, a bloody month?”

One tiny shoulder raised in a casual shrug. “Time is relative. It changes from one realm to another, it is not a constant.” She pointed to the brook behind her. “It is more like that small stream right there - not one straight current, but eddy’s and ripples that travel at a much different pace than what appears to be the whole.”

“Do you mean to tell me, Dawn’s had the Wiccas lookin’ for me for a whole month?” Suddenly, he was quite proud of his Nibblet. And touched at her level of compassion for him - even after he failed in his role as her protector. He loved her just as much as he loved the sister. And he was going back! He would see her again!

The entities just nodded, a wide grin on the vessel’s face as they felt his joy.

“But we’re not allowing the Powers to control this return. We’re taking away their intended plan for returning the Chosen One, as well.”

A devilish gleam kindled to life in Spike’s eyes. Right now, anything that put a crimp in the Powers plan was to be considered a good thing. Bloody wankers, the lot of ‘em. Messin’ with my girl like they have.

“Just what are you plannin’ for the ripe bunch of bastards? And what can I do to help?”

They smiled, amused at the vampire’s glee. “We’re going to send you back in their current reality. Twenty-six days after Buffy died. We aren’t allowing the Powers to set back time. That would undo the work we’ve done in developing not only the witch, but Dawn as well. The whole group, in fact. What do you call them? The Slayerettes? Funny. We always knew you were funny. Once you’re there, they will be blocked from sending the Slayer back to that night because it would create a paradox. That’s another of the many reasons you are needed to go back. The group will need to start from this particular point of their development to assist the Chosen One in the next battle that’s to come. And they’ll need you to do it.”

Spike got to his feet and clapped his hands together. “Right, then. I’m ready and willin’. Who’re we takin’ on this time? The legions of hell themselves?”

Spike saw the serious expression fall heavily on the mite of a girl. It was the first time he’d seen her look less than precocious.

“The groundwork has been laid, Spike. We’re going to open a portal for you - but this one is a little different than what you went through with the Dialetyth. Or the one we used to bring you here. It is a portal between realities, not just between realms. We’re afraid there isn’t much we can do; it will be a bit painful. And the effects will be felt in all dimensions. Undoubtedly it will shake things up a bit.”

Spike was a little curious as to why they were avoiding his question, but he was too thrilled with the going back to let it bother him. He didn’t even care that it was going to hurt. What was a little pain after all he’d been through? The harsh reality sunk in though, when they finally did answer his question. And he wished they hadn’t.

“But that will work in our favor. It will allow us to announce our presence to the beings that will hunt us - or try to hunt us - when they realize we exist. The battle that is coming, Spike, will be against the Powers that Be, themselves.”

As the vampire felt the pull of the entities moving him towards a rippling wave in the air, he had one last thought before slipping through and into darkness.

Oh, bloody hell.

Chapter Fifteen

Dawn and Willow finally made it to shaky but upright positions. They clung to each other for support and balance as the tremors continued to shift the ground under their feet. Ground in the nether realm that shouldn’t be able to shift.

“Willow! What’s going on? What is this?”

The very confused witch, still rocked by her ordeal with Spike’s aura, just shook her head, not having any answers to give the teen.

“I’m thinking not something that’s a good, though, right?”

Willow met Dawn’s eyes for a second, though thanks to the shaking, the picture was kind of fuzzy. “Big not good. Huge not good. We’ve got to get out of here. Now. Sooner than now would be even better.”

“Can you get us out? Giles said you’d have to get us out.”

Nodding, teeth rattling, Willow pulled herself together enough to remember what she needed to do. With the knowledge came self-assurance, and she grinned a bit.

“That I can do. Hold on. We’re going to have to follow the path you took here. I have to use you, or I won’t be able to get out, so whatever you do, don’t let go of me. It’s either that, or merge with Spike again. And, ya know? Not something I’m anxious to be trying again any time soon. In fact, never.”

Dawn knew how traumatic it had been for Willow, merging with Spike, and she reached out and hugged the surprised witch tightly. Just knowing that Willow had been willing to risk trying something so dangerous to help her reinforced the belief that Willow was one of her favorite people. And since now wasn’t really the time to go into that in depth, a hug would have to suffice. As soon as they were firmly back on un-shaky ground, she’d tell Willow just what her sacrifice meant to her.

Willow hugged Dawn back just as tightly, taking comfort in the girl that had come into the nether realm after her. She chanted even as they maintained their tight grip on each other. The air swirled around the pair as they were pulled back down the path that Dawn had made.

It was working. This was something Willow was quite familiar with. Getting out of the nether realm had always been her favorite part of all of those spells she and Tara had done - what seemed like a lifetime ago, now.

With a harsh jolt and a twisting sensation it was over. Willow opened her eyes, her real eyes, and sucked in a quick breath at what she saw. Beside her, Dawn echoed the sound.

In front of them, stretching from the floor to the ceiling was a wall of crackling energy.

Surprised and horrified just didn’t cover it and their hands broke apart unconsciously. As they did, the wall collapsed into the more familiar for Dawn, just as shocking for Willow, mini tornado that had laid waste to the room around them.

Willow grimaced, frantically meeting Dawn’s gaze. The young girl didn’t look terribly surprised. Someone had some explaining to do - but now was hardly the time.

It was unsettling, coming back from the nether realm. And this time was even more so for Willow, as everything that she was, mind, aura, essence, had been savagely separated and pulled in. It took her a long, stunned minute to realize that it was her magicks that were powering the wind. It took even longer to reconnect with that part of her, to regain control. When she finally did - not knowing what exactly had happened - the spinning vortex around them dwindled down to nothing. With little less than a caress of warm breeze, it disappeared.

And that’s when they noticed the ground underneath them was shaking and the house was swaying around them.

“What now?” cried Dawn, confused and worried that the safety they had been counting on hadn’t materialized as easily as they had materialized from the nether realm.

“I don’t know. Move, Dawnie, move - into a doorway - go!” The girls scrambled to their feet and hurtled down the hall.

As they huddled in the doorway leading into the kitchen, the ground continued to roll and pitch.

“This can’t be good,” said Willow, when it didn’t seem to be ending. “Shaking ground generally not one of those boding well things in Sunnydale. And if this is also what we were feeling in the nether realm, then we’re talking outside my experience - way out. Out of the galaxy, out.”

Dawn clung to the wall for support. She was scared. She wanted Giles. She wanted to know what was going on. “I don’t get it! Where is everyone?” A low rumbling sound was vibrating in her chest. She didn’t like it.

Things were falling off walls, down stairs, out of the cabinets in the kitchen. There was chaos all around them. It was a cacophonous din of destruction. Then, out of nowhere, came a loud thud from the dining room that drowned out the rest for a brief second, followed by the sound of wood being splintered and broken.

The earth stopped moving at last.

Willow and Dawn exchanged wide-eyed but relieved looks as they straightened and stood on finally firm ground.

“Wow. Okay,” said Willow, “that’s more like it. I like the ground much better when it’s not doing the hokey pokey underneath me. Now, let’s find Giles and the gang. We need to find out what’s with the shaking all about.”

At Dawn’s questioning look, Willow reached up and brushed a lock of hair off her shoulder.

“Yes, Dawnie, we’re also going to find out what needs to be done to get Spike out of hell. I told you, we’ll find him. I promise.”

Dawn was a little embarrassed that her first thoughts after the hubbub died down were all about getting Spike back, but that was her goal, her mission. She shouldn’t feel embarrassed that she was following her heart. “Okay. Right. Good. And I know you can do it, Willow. I believe in you. And thank you. For everything.”

Willow hugged her quickly again and grabbed her hand as they moved out of the doorway.

As they made their way down the hall, stepping gingerly around several pieces of miscellaneous debris, they didn’t take the time to go see what had happened in the dining room. They hadn’t forgotten about the loud thud and the sound of wood splintering apart, but finding the rest of their friends was currently tops on the to do list. Assessing damage could come later.

If they had checked it out, they would have seen him.

They would have seen the vampire that they were both so determined to find. A vampire that lay, unconscious, amid the rubble of what was left of the dining room table.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Buffy had come out of her grief induced stupor when the rocking in the Oracles’ chamber knocked her off her knees and sent her sprawling. With an instinctive roll, she rose to her feet, arms outstretched for balance. Her Slayer sense was cloaked tightly around her, and she could now feel every vibration coming from the stone steps she perched so precariously on.

“What the hell is going on?”

She looked around and found the two Oracles, clinging together in the archway, obviously terrified beyond rational thought.

Making her way over to them, she grabbed the brother’s arm and shook it.

“What is this? What’s happening?”

He looked at her but didn’t speak. Buffy realized, belatedly, that he was trying to reach her mentally, probably out of instinct. Concentrating, she tried to open her mind to his thoughts. She got more than just his thoughts, though; she felt his confusion and fear as he just stared at her. Then she finally heard the words.

“The Powers...they are calling us...something has happened but we cannot go to them. The portal is closed to us. We do not know why. They are calling us and we cannot go.”

Buffy spun around. There was nothing in the barren room that could help her. Her mind whirled. Loss, anger, love, all of the emotions she was feeling were intensifying her Slayer side, the tingling in her body rose to an almost painful level.

And then it stopped. The room stopped shaking, the pillars settled back in their rightful positions, and the pool of water in front of her...kept frothing and bubbling.

In fact, it did more than froth and bubble, the water churned and agitated. Like a mini ocean suffering the wrath of a hurricane.

“Would someone please explain to me what, exactly, is happening here?”

Buffy may as well not have asked, for all the response she got. The Oracles weren’t likely to provide much in the way of explanations, either; they were still huddled pathetically in the closed portal to their precious Powers. Buffy stepped forward cautiously and peered down into the Waters of Time and Space.

Images flashed in the waves, disjointed and surreal images. Nothing recognizable, nothing decipherable. It was as if a movie was playing on a moving, broken screen. But it was more than just one movie, more than dozens of movies, playing all at once and reflecting off hundreds of individual watery peaks.

She couldn’t look away. It made no sense to her, to her mind, none of the images were identifiable, but it was mesmerizing.

Slowly, as Buffy watched, the water calmed. The images kept flashing, but it was less a multitude of movies, broken and cut up by the waves, and more pages of a book, flipping past at an incredible rate. Until it opened to one lone page and held its position.

As clear as glass, as flat and unmoving as a stagnant pond, the image was distinct and recognizable.

Buffy felt tears spring to her eyes as she realized what she was seeing. Her heart soared. Everything that was in her cried out in deep relief. The velvet cloak of her power caressed her mind, body, and soul, hugging her with comforting warmth.

“Spike!”

She saw him. He was...well, hurt...and unconscious...but he was alive! And he was in her dining room. Or...what was left of her dining room?

Spinning around to the Oracles, she lifted her head and stared down her nose at the pair. “See. I told you. Not as easy to kill as you might think. And if I’m not mistaken, those Powers of yours need to upgrade their...what did you call it? Their technology.” Her eyes took on a dangerous glint and her voice sharpened to deadly intensity. She was glorious in her power. “Now. I don’t want to hear another word from the two of you. In my head or anywhere else. Send me back. You brought me here to send me back, DO IT!”

The brother and sister were shell-shocked, this was beyond highly irregular. As the first to regain some semblance of control but not believing what the Slayer had told him, the brother shuffled forward as if expecting the ground to start moving again and peered into the now eerily calm Waters.

“It is true, sister. The vampire has been returned to her realm. I do not know how, or from where, but he is there. What do we do?”

Near hysteria, the sister practically screeched in his mind. “DO?! Send her back! Why are you even questioning? Send her back. I am finished with her and her odd friends. I want nothing more to do with any of them! This has been quite a distressing situation. I want her gone. Please, brother. For me. Send her back.”

“But, sister, I cannot. She was supposed to return to her body shortly after the fall. After the vampire was summoned. With his return, that is no longer possible. The Pow-”

“GRANT THE CHOSEN ONES’ WISHES. SEND HER BACK IN THEIR PRESENT TIME. WE WILL RESTORE HER. COME TO US. WE ARE WAITING.”

Both Oracles’ heads snapped up in surprise. There was no ignoring the Powers or their demands. Something very unusual must be happening to be contacted in such a manner. Usually they just send a wordless, beckoning call. This was highly irregular. And it scared the brother. Reality as he knew it was changing, he could feel it, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. He didn’t even understand it.

Without another word, he turned to the scornful creature in front of him and nodded once. He gathered his powers and sent her back to her world. Set her back on her path...whatever that may be now.

Buffy disappeared from the room.

The brother doubted even the Powers themselves had any idea of just what he was releasing on the world. For the first time in his existence, he questioned the wisdom of their decision.

And he didn’t know why he was so sure that the Slayer, while still being a warrior, would no longer be theirs to guide.

~*~*~*~*~*~

It was Tara that noticed it first. She sat up, rubbing at a sore spot on her head, not really remembering what she’d hit it on, and saw that the energy that had been keeping them out of the house was no longer glowing tauntingly in the doorway.

She didn’t have time to mention it before Giles stood up, brushing at his jacket, and caught the non-glowing front entrance out of the corner of his eye. Fearing the worst, fearing the quake that rattled them had been the last straw and his surrogate daughter was hurt, maybe dead, his heart lodged in his throat and clung there, preventing words from having any possibility of escape.

The normally dignified man launched himself up the stairs leading to the porch and burst into the hallway. He almost buckled under the weight of grief when he saw the living room empty, but a sound from the hallway on his right spun him around.

Out of the shadowy darkness, two figures, two young women, shaken but remarkably unhurt, emerged. And sometime after seeing that Willow and Dawn were both alive and back in this realm, Giles’ heart slipped back down where it belonged, and for good measure, started beating again.

Dawn choked back a sob when she saw Giles’ face, then threw herself at him. His arms wrapped tightly around her and they rocked back and forth for a little while, drawing comfort from one another.

It was a tremendous feeling for Giles, having Dawn safe in his arms, and he leaned his head down and rested it on the top of hers. The effusive display of loving emotions may have been out of character for the mature young woman she’d become, but in no way out of character for a fourteen year old girl. And he would take it. She was alive, unhurt, and he would take every opportunity offered to let her know how much that meant to him.

The grounding she would get for attempting such a foolhardy course of action could come much later.

He looked at Willow, who was standing a step away, looking just as shaken as Dawn had. There was warmth in his expression when he raised one of his arms away from Dawn and held it out to her. Beaming a watery smile at him, Willow stepped into his soothing embrace. She felt his fatherly affection for all of them in that hug, and was calmed and comforted by it.

“Giles,” came Xander’s voice from the porch, “are they okay? Is it over?”

Giles, Willow, and Dawn looked down the hallway and saw Xander just entering the open door, Tara and Anya behind him. Xander saw the girls and smiled widely.

“Yup. It’s over. And it’s the best kind of over. Happy ending over. Gotta love those.”

Tara rushed to the three who were still clinging together in a group hug, and Willow broke away from Giles and Dawn to wrap her arms around the woman she loved. They said with their embrace what they couldn’t say with their words. Love, devotion, and dedication were all offered, accepted, returned, and renewed.

Anya grabbed Xander’s arm and watched the emotional group in front of her. “Oh, good, they’re back. I have to say, Willow, that’s a very impressive arsenal of power you have access to. I’m very pleased that you’re on our side. It would be unpleasant to cross you.”

Willow looked at the ex-demon over Tara’s shoulder, knowing that was as close as Anya would ever come to a warm welcome. “Um. Thanks, Anya. I...appreciate the...sentiment.”

Anya grinned and nodded enthusiastically. “So,” she said, turning to Xander, “does this mean we can go home now or are you going to insist we have to help with the cleanup?”

“An,” Xander cast a sheepish glance at the unsurprised, but faintly irritated people that were his friends, “I don’t think clean up is really what needs to happen now. Am I right Giles?”

Giles didn’t let go of Dawn, couldn’t let go of her yet, so he shifted her to his side where she nestled comfortably against him. He faced the group, confidence and calm demeanor firmly back in place.

“Yes, well...there is the matter of discussing what happened in the nether realm. And I’m not happy about the fact that we just felt a rather strong earthquake. I believe our experiences indicate those as something of a harbinger of doom. But, that can probably all wait until tomorrow as I’m sure Willow and Dawn are tired from their ordeal. Quite frankly, I don’t believe a little assessing of the damage and some cleaning up would be out of line, really. Then we can get some sleep and start fresh in the morning.”

Willow let go of Tara and said, “Clean-up will have to wait. Giles, there’s something you should know. The earthquake wasn’t just in Sunnydale. Dawn and I felt it in the nether realm, and as far as I know - that’s just not a possibility. Do you have any ideas?”

“Oh dear.”

Xander heard the breathless exclamation, saw the frown Giles gave and sighed audibly. “Lemme guess. Happy ending a bit premature?”

Giles just looked at him wryly and nodded. “I would say so, yes. Perhaps we should all adjourn to the family room. No rest for the wicked, I’m afraid. This is proving to be one very long night.”

Six weary and mentally drained individuals moved en masse into the less destroyed family room, resignation and responsibility weighing each of them down.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Spike was slowly regaining consciousness as his body shifted slightly. Whatever he was lying on was extremely uncomfortable - and in no way meant for naptime. Plus there was a soft drone in his head, muted conversation that wouldn’t let him slip back into the depths of healing sleep.

One of the voices, he wasn’t really aware which one, nagged at his mind, pulling at it ceaselessly, prodding it into embracing awakeness when all he really wanted to do was lie in the dark and heal.

But it wouldn’t let him.

As his mind got dragged, resisting all the way, back into some semblance of awareness, the cottony cobwebs over his thoughts cleared a bit and he was able to pinpoint who the voice belonged to. When he did, he knew why it had so mercilessly forced him awake. That knowledge thrust him into a fully alert state. Dawn.

He opened his eyes quickly and stared at the ceiling above him. Turning his head caused shooting pain to dance down his spine, into his arms and legs, and he gasped at the sudden sharpness of it. He peered around the room with only a vague recognition of his surroundings. It looked familiar, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on where he was. He knew he was in Buffy’s house, but he just didn’t recognize which part.

Rolling was agony, but Spike turned his body gently and used his arms to push himself to his hands and knees. What he saw underneath where he’d been laying made the last connection in his mind. The dining room table...or...