By Josephine Martin

Fanfiction.net at http://www.fanfiction.net/read.php?storyid=1006338

The Crypt at http://lubakmetyk.hispeed.com/others/josephinem/OneForSorrow1.htm

Spuffy Fiction at http://embark.to/SpuffyFiction .

For a few seconds this morning, I thought I was in heaven. I came out of a deep sleep to find myself entangled with her. Her head was on my chest, her legs entwined with mine. She looked at peace, her face so young and carefree. I felt my heart swell with happiness at finding myself with her, remembering the night just past, and the times we made love.

With that memory comes the rest. The events of earlier. The pain of knowing Dawn was gone. The tears start to form again, and another memory comes to the surface. I think it was a dream. At least, I'm sure it never actually happened. Dawn was talking to me. Her words are still clear, the tone of her voice still sharp in my head.

"You've succeeded in the first part of your task, Spike. She said you had to keep me safe, and you did. The key neutralised the energy from the orb, or at least enough of it to give us some breathing space. But, there's more you need to do. The hardest of those things is to forgive yourself. Others you'll find easier. Love her. Keep her safe. Allow her to love you. You need to be together. Only when you are truly together can you be happy, and only then can you fulfil your ultimate destiny."

Her face changed then, and she started to laugh. "Now I've said what I had to, I can get rid of the stuffy style. I love you, Spike. It won't be long until we're together again, just do as you're told for once."

At that point, my dream Dawn jumped at me, putting her arms around my neck, and I swung her around, feeling her joy, but she faded then, and the dream was over.

I've never been much of a one for mystical purposes and all that, but I believe she's happy. I believe I'll see her again. I don't know when, or how, but I believe it. And that takes the edge off the pain.

Buffy stirs in my arms, and her eyes flutter open. I stroke some hair off her face, watching her, wondering if she's going to tell me to go.

"Morning, Pet," I whisper. I'm in awe of the fact that she spent the night in my arms, the pleasure of having her here rivalling the pleasure of what came before sleep. Her face lights up when she sees me, and I stifle a sob. As quickly as her face showed happiness, it's gone, and her eyes have taken on that look of utter loss that was in them at the shop yesterday.

"She's really gone, isn't she?" she asks, already knowing the answer.

I nod, not wanting to trust my voice.

"I dreamed about her. She told me to love you, that we could only be happy together. She said I had to forgive myself."

"Sounds like the Bit was busy last night. Had the same dream, near enough."

"She seemed happy." Her voice had a far away quality, as if she was remembering her own time in heaven.

"She said it wouldn't be long," she adds.

We lie together in silence for a while. My mind returns to last night. I'm not too clear on what happened after Dawn was gone. I remember holding Buffy as if my life depended on it, and she was clinging to me as if the same was true of her. I remember the Watcher's voice, telling us to get up, and we were led to a car. I couldn't tell you the first thing about the car, don't know whether it was mine, his, or Xander's. Then we were here, Buffy's house, and we were led upstairs. I seem to remember trying to leave her here, in her room, but she wouldn't let go, and I don't think I fought too hard. She's my weakness. She made me forget my resolve, and I took advantage of her grief. As I think these thoughts, I almost hear Dawn again, the words aren't clear, but the meaning is. Forgive yourself.

I have no memory of getting undressed, none of her undressing, but I know we spent the night here, in her bed, making love, initially in desperation, trying to forget what had happened. But, some time during the night, things changed. From utter loss, I started to feel joy at being with her. I felt joined to her as I have never felt before. Before last night, sex between us was something somehow disjointed from the rest of my existence. It was a short time of pleasure which never really seemed to be part of my life. Last night, I gave her myself, all of me, and I felt she gave me everything in return.

I've loved her for a long time, but I never knew it could be like this.

*-*-*

I woke a few moments ago, and felt a happiness like I've never known before. It lasted until I remembered that my sister was gone. But, even then, the happiness wasn't gone, it was just tempered somehow, not so much lessened, as put into perspective. I remember my dream, and I believe she's happy. Like I was happy in heaven. And, I can't begrudge her that.

We spoke for a few moments, comparing dreams. We had the same one, and I think it was Dawn talking to us, trying to stop us from mucking up our chance of happiness.

I think about her childhood, and I realise something's missing. I remember things, her coming home from the hospital, a new baby, her first day at school, but it's as if someone told me a story, not like I was actually there. I continue rifling through my memories, getting the same feeling right up until one day when she suddenly appeared in my life. For the first time, I can pinpoint the moment when I first had a sister. It seems strange.

I jump out of bed, surprising Spike with the suddenness of my movement. He looks hurt for a moment, no doubt remembering all the times I'd run out on him after sex, and I pause, kissing his cheek, and tell him, "I'll be back in a moment, I've just got to check something."

I pull a wrap around myself, and go out into the hallway. I open Dawn's room, and it's gone. Everything that made it Dawn's room has gone. It's full of boxes, things we don't use, probably will never use.

I didn't hear him approach, but Spike's behind me, putting his arms around my waist, nuzzling my neck with his lips, as we look at the evidence that Dawn was never real.

I hear footsteps, and Spike moves around behind me, and I realise he didn't stop to make himself decent before leaving the bedroom. Giles reaches the top of the stairs, his face reddening a little as he takes in the two of us, Spike hiding behind me.

"I thought I'd have a shower before I go home," he mutters, going into my old room. "There's coffee downstairs if you want some," he adds, opening the bedroom door.

"She's gone," I tell him, nodding behind me to the room that was hers.

"I know," he answers. "I was going to sleep in there last night, but …. I hope it was ok for me to stay. I didn't feel like leaving you. You were both, well, I wasn't sure you should be left."

"It's fine, Giles," I tell him.

"How are you?" he asks, keeping his eyes on my face, as if desperately trying not to see Spike's arms around me, his naked upper half probably much in evidence.

"Better than I thought possible," I answer truthfully, and he nods, going into the room and leaving us there.

I feel, rather than hear, the laughter building in the body behind me, the vibration starting low in his stomach, and rising slowly until I hear it explode from his lips. I can't stop myself, I join him, and before I know it, I'm giggling along with him, the sight of Giles' embarrassment making me helpless. Spike effortlessly lifts me before I crumple completely, and takes me back to my room. Our room. He places me on the bed before collapsing beside me.

A vague feeling of guilt passes through me, and I wonder how I can laugh when Dawn's gone, but no sooner does the thought come to me, than I hear her voice telling me I should just enjoy whatever happiness I can. She knows the life of the Slayer is full of loss, and she's saying to just get on with it. I know that I'm going to be looking for her, expecting to see her, complaining about her when I can't find the TV remote or a favourite sweater. I'm going to miss her, but, I'm going to do my best to live my life until she returns, in whatever form that takes.

The laughter goes on for some time, only to be replaced with passion, as I am silenced with a kiss. Some time later, I'm aware of the front door closing, and I know Giles has gone.

I drive away from Revello Drive feeling better than I thought I could. Last night I felt as if the world had ended. I brought Buffy and Spike back here, and heard Buffy begging Spike not to leave her. I left them in her room and went downstairs to think for a while. To think, and wish I had some of my best malt to ease the pain.

Dawn was gone. In the end, there was nothing we could do. There was no sign of Riley when we emerged from the Magic Box, and I found myself wondering where he had gone. That's something I need to find out later. I want to hear the whole story of what happened with the Orb, but the time wasn't right and I was too angry to listen.

Xander had brought Spike's car from the Magic Box, and Anya picked him up after he dropped it off. I think they were going home together, but to whose home, I have no idea.

I sat there and thought last night, listening carefully for any sound that might alert me to the two upstairs doing something stupid. Both seemed so distraught that I felt I couldn't leave the house. The thing that surprised me was that their reactions so exactly mirrored each other's. There was nothing to choose between them. It's odd, really, when you consider that Dawn was Buffy's sister, and yet she was nothing to Spike. Even if she wasn't truly Buffy's sister, we know there is a blood relationship.

The events of the night surprised me a little. Well, maybe they didn't. By the time I went upstairs to go to bed, it was quite obvious what was going on in Buffy's bedroom. After considering it for a few seconds, it seemed less surprising. I know Spike loves her, and Buffy's told me recently that she loves him. They were both upset, and they turned to one another. So, maybe it wasn't so surprising that they looked to one another for physical consolation.

It was late when I went upstairs. I wasn't sure whether the bed was made up in Buffy's old room, so I checked Dawn's first. I was exhausted by then, by grief and the lateness of the hour, and I wanted to get to sleep quickly, so I decided to make do with the room with the Boy Bands and the Parental Advisory poster. Yet, when I opened the door, it was all gone. Dawn's bed, her clothes, her posters, everything, all gone.

I must have stood in the doorway for several minutes just letting the finality of it wash through me. It wasn't just that she was gone, it was as if she had never been here. I tried to remember her, remember my earliest memories of her, and found I couldn't do it. I mean, I could remember recalling something, but it no longer seemed real. The power of the Key must have been responsible for everything we knew about Dawn's past. When it was gone, so was everything it had created.

Then there was this morning. I got up fairly early, and went downstairs to get some breakfast. I'd have preferred tea, really, but there's no proper kettle. I mean, an electric kettle's just a necessity of life, and the tea in the cupboard was fruit flavoured and herbal. I'm afraid I'm old fashioned enough to expect my tea to taste of, well, tea, not blackcurrant and rosehip. I put on some coffee instead, made some toast, and went through the routine of eating breakfast.

I heard movement above when I started to climb the stairs determined to shower, and was surprised by the sight I saw. A very naked Spike was moving behind Buffy who was, at least, clad in a wrap. They were standing in the doorway of Dawn's room, seeing what I had noticed the night before.

The appearance of Buffy's face was surprising. She looked remarkably normal. I'm not sure exactly what I expected, maybe a toned down version of the night before, a blotchy face, swollen, tear-stained eyes. But no, what I saw was acceptance. I've been proud of Buffy many times, but I don't think I've ever felt more proud of her that I did at that moment. Not that it was easy. I mean, seeing the evidence of their state of undress, and the familiarity of Spike's hands on her, was something I would really rather leave to the imagination.

When I shut the bedroom door behind them, I heard the laughter start. I had been surprised before, but I was nothing short of amazed at that. I knew the laughter was at my expense, but I didn't care. It sounded so joyful. Something in the tone of laughter reminded me of Dawn's words the night before. She told them they had to be together, that it was the only way they would be happy.

I once heard a theory, well, maybe it was more of a religious belief, that said that happiness could only be attained if you simply handed your life over to a higher power. Once you were freed from making decisions, simply letting your god take over, you could be truly happy. Now, I've never adhered to such a belief, but, if ever there was evidence of the veracity of such a concept, I think I saw it this morning.

Not that I think it will last. There are problems they both need to solve before they can be happy with one another. One night of passion can't possibly erase all that has gone on between those two. It's another thing for me to worry about. I know, I'm her Watcher, not her father, but if he hurts her ….. Even as I think that, I realise that the hurt thus far is all on the other side. Well, maybe not all, but that's the way the scale is tipped. And I remember Spike trying to leave her last night, telling her he would stay in another room, all the while his own need for her was as great as hers for him. He was willing to be there for her, but to give her space. She was the one who insisted, wouldn't let him go, and he couldn't deny her.

I drive home, determined to change my clothes, then call the hospital. The news about Willow has been unchanged for a week. Her injuries were horrific, and she's still bandaged, so we've yet to see the evidence of the extent of her injuries, but there is apparently no reason for her to remain unconscious. They're hopeful that she will come round eventually, and I've been waiting for the first sign so I can do what I must.

The coven already knew that she had succumbed to the dark side of her nature when I contacted them. They have a member ready to travel here at the first sign of a recovery.

I wish I knew what happened with Willow. I'm sure it wasn't as simple as it seemed, but without having had the chance to talk to Willow, I just don't know.

I pull on clean clothes gratefully, and make some tea before sitting down with the phone in my hand. As an afterthought, I put the phone down, and go into the dining room where Willow's lap-top sits as she left it.

When we first returned from England, and we heard that Spike was going to be working at the High School, Willow hacked into the school computer to find out what his personnel record said. It was surprisingly detailed, giving him an employment history appropriate to his apparent age. I remember what she did, and I decide to try to find out what the records on Dawn are now. I may not like computers, but I'm not stupid. I manage to get into the database surprisingly quickly, but, maybe the fact that it's Saturday has something to do with it.

I check the student roll, and there's no sign of a Dawn Summers. Apparently she's been erased from the collective memory of the school. I wonder how it was done. Was she simply obliterated, as in, never really existed, or has there been a plausible explanation for her disappearance. I check the historical records, and it looks like she simply never existed.

It occurs to me that if Dawn's gone, there's no reason for Buffy and Spike to work at the school. I look up their personnel records, and I'm relieved to note that they are both still employees of the school. At least Buffy doesn't have to worry about money for a while. And, if there's no record of her having had a sister, there's no explanation to be made for her disappearance.

I log off the computer, and pick up the phone, dialling the number I now know by heart.

"Good morning, I'm enquiring about the condition of Miss Willow Rosenberg," I tell the voice who answers. "It's Rupert Giles."

"Ah, Mr. Giles, I'm glad you called. We tried to contact you last night, but there was no reply. Miss Rosenberg's parents, as you know, requested that you be the primary contact for the hospital while they were out of the country on business, and there has been a significant change in her condition. She's not conscious yet, but she's showing distinct signs that she's improving. It would help her immensely if there were a friendly voice for her to hear as she wakes. Of course, she won't be able to see anything, as her eyes are still completely bandaged."

"That's good news," I say, "I'll be there soon. Has Mr. Harris contacted you this morning?"

"No, yours is the first call today."

"I see," I reply before ending the call.

I check my watch. It's already ten thirty, so it'll be seven thirty in the evening in England. I dial the number for the coven, and I'm put through to my main contact there. The call is short, simply a request for the service we suspected would be needed. Someone is coming to remove Willow's power. I'm doing it with a heavy heart, because she's already so damaged, so injured, that it makes her physical recovery even less likely than it is now, and that's without the possibility of psychological damage. But there is no option.

I call Xander, but get no reply. I call the Magic Box, and Anya answers in her own inimitable manner.

"Magic Box, where all your Magical needs are met."

"Good morning, Anya," I reply. "It's Rupert. Is Xander there?"

"No," she answers, but it's obvious she's not planning on saying more.

"Can you tell me where I might reach him? I tried his home, but there was no reply."

There's silence for a few seconds. Her resolve crumbles, and she answers.

"He's at my place. Do you have the number?"

I confirm that I do, indeed, have that number.

I dial, and after several rings, a very sleepy Xander answers.

"Good morning," I begin. "It's Giles."

"Morning, G Man," he answers remarkably brightly. His voice immediately changes to something a good deal more sober.

"How is she?"

"Buffy? Better than I'd ever have thought possible. Tell me, how do you remember Dawn?"

He stutters a little at the question, then there's silence.

"I remember the recent stuff, but all the memories of before, they're gone. I mean, I remember having the memories, but they don't seem real any more." His voice sounds nothing short of amazed.

"Exactly. Now that the Key is gone, the memories created about Dawn have gone too. It's the same for Buffy. I think that's making things more … bearable. Spike too."

"What happened about him last night? Did he go home eventually?"

"No, he stayed. Buffy wouldn't let him go."

"But, he slept in another room, didn't he?" He sounds like he's begging for agreement.

"No, as I said, Buffy wouldn't let him go. They spent the night together."

"He took advantage of her! I thought he was changing, but I was wrong. He .."

"He didn't take advantage. If anything, that's what she did. He tried to leave her, but she wouldn't listen. She loves him. He loves her. They took whatever solace was available. I'm not sure I think it's a viable relationship, but their actions were eminently comprehensible."

"And you didn't stop this because?"

"Because they are two adults." My voice had become louder. "Because no one was forced to do anything. Because it's really none of my business. And, that's not why I called."

That seemed to take a while to sink in.

"It wasn't?"

"No, I called because of Willow. I called the hospital, and they say there's been an improvement. She's not awake, but they think she's getting closer. They want her to have someone there. I'm going soon, but it'd be good to have some company, …."

"Of course," he muttered. "I'll shower and meet you there."

I pottered about the flat for a few minutes, washing up my dishes, tidying. In truth I was making sure I wouldn't have to spend too long alone with Willow. I know I shouldn't feel that way, but seeing her, so tiny, even swathed in bandages as she is, she seems so tiny - so helpless, it's heartbreaking. Then there's the whole guilt thing. I fought to have her back home. And, she tried to kill Dawn. If she had succeeded, …. I don't think I could have lived with the guilt.

I had delayed as long as I reasonably could, and I slipped on my jacket to leave. My hand was actually on the doorknob when the phone rang. I picked up, and heard Anya's voice on the other end. Never one for preamble, she launched straight into the point of the call.

"I've just had a visit from the military. Military police they called themselves. They're looking for Riley. Apparently he's gone AWOL, and they're looking for anyone who might hide him. They got wind of him coming here yesterday, and now they're on their way to your place. I got the impression they're also sending someone to Buffy's. I called her first."

"Riley, AWOL? I muse into the phone. I suppose grief might do that. Grief and guilt." I snap back to reality. "What did you tell them?"

"Well, I didn't tell them about Dawn being the Key and being swallowed up by a source of purple energy! I just said he was here, and he muttered something about his wife, but didn't make sense. I said he left. Which is all true as far as it goes."

"Good," I reply, my thoughts racing. "Do me a favour, Anya. See if you can reach Xander before he gets to the hospital. Let him know what's happening."

I'm interrupted by a knock on the door. "It looks as thought I might be delayed."

The phone rings, and I'm wakened from the sort of drowse you wish would last forever. You know the feeling. You're not sure even you can move. I don't know for sure how long it's been ringing when I stretch out an arm to pick it up. Of course, I had to extricate said arm from around Spike first.

"Yes?"

"Buffy, it's Anya. Did I wake you? Because, if I did, you'd better get your ass moving quickly. There's someone on their way over to talk to you about Riley and hostile 17."

My sleep and pleasure befuddled brain takes several seconds to understand the words. That's not helped by the way Spike's moving his hand around my body. "Riley. Hostile 17," I parrot.

I'm brought to full wakefulness by Spike's reaction to my words. He tenses, and rolls onto the other side of the bed. I know he's remembering the things the Initiative did to him.

"What happened? Why’s someone coming to talk about Riley?"

There's a pause, and I know she's wondering what to tell me, I can almost hear the measuring and weighing going on in her mind. She comes to a decision.

"He was at the shop yesterday. He saw what happened to Dawn. He said the same thing killed Sam, and he was responsible."

I’m trying to process that. "Why don’t I remember him there?"

"Buffy, Dawn was being annihilated. You wouldn’t ‘ve known if the building had fallen down."

I’m nodding, then realise that’s not exactly an effective means of communicating on the phone. "How was he responsible?" She did say that, didn’t she?

"He was doing some tests on something. He called it a sphere."

"The Orb of Fire. Are you telling me he destroyed the Orb of Fire?"

"He wasn’t too clear, but I think that’s what he meant."

"But ..."

"Buffy, you don’t have time for this now. You’ve got to work out what to tell whoever comes."

"Ok," I manage. "Any idea of how long we've got?"

"No, I think someone different's coming to you. I just told the one I saw the basics of Riley's visit yesterday. He came, he didn't make much sense and he left."

"Thanks, Anya," I reply, pulling myself out of bed.

Spike’s already up and pulling on his jeans. He’s watching me, though, waiting for the details.

"Anya's just had a visit from some MPs looking for Riley. She says someone's on their way here too. She said Sam’s dead, because of the Orb of Fire, and that Riley was responsible for destroying it."

Spike’s looking bereft again. I mean, I know how he feels. For a few hours it was almost bearable, now, it’s all back. And if Riley’s responsible ...

"And they know about Hostile Bloody Seventeen,’ he says bitterly.

Spike’s pulling on a shirt now, but the tension in his body is evident in every move. I'm torn between the need to dress and the desire to make him relax. I snake my arms around him, but he shrugs me away. I'm hurt, but I tell myself he's being sensible. We need to dress and be ready before anyone gets here.

"You stay up here," I offer. "If they know about Hostile 17, you'll be safer up here."

"No."

"What do you mean no?"

"It's a simple word. Means the opposite of yes. I'm going to be with you. I'm finished with hiding from the Initiative. We'll both pass a cursory check, and beyond that, you're no more human than I am."

I nod. "And then?"

"Then, I find Riley Finn, and I kill him."

It’s said with such coldness that I feel an icy draught around my heart. But, something inside me isn’t repulsed. It’s swelling within me, supporting the feeling.

"No."

He looks at me. I get the feeling he’s surprised at the expression on my face.

"No," I repeat. "Then we find Riley Finn and kill him."

There’s no joy in the smile he gives me. There’s acceptance, there’s agreement, but no joy.

I dress quickly, pulling a brush through my hair and scraping it back off my face. I hear a knock at the door, and I run from the room, with Spike right behind me.

I open the door, and there are two people there. They’re in uniform, and one of them is flashing some sort of ID at me. He’s tall, dark, bulky and instantly recognisable for what he is. His companion’s standing behind him. She’s average height, slim, mid-brown hair, also in uniform.

"I’m Major Simon Westgate, and this is Captain Angela Dawson. We’re investigating some recent events, and, in particular the disappearance of one Riley Finn. We believe you may be able to shed some light on our investigation."

"And what other events are you investigating?"

"I'm not at liberty to discuss that," he manages. "May we come in?" I stand back, and gesture them inside. I show them into the lounge, and Spike’s already there, lounging on the sofa, everything about his posture a challenge.

"Good day, Miss Summers, Mr... ?" he begins, looking at Spike. Spike says nothing, so I intercede.

"William Prescott."

"Mr. Prescott."

He holds out a hand to Spike, but Spike ignores it. I suppose he’s had longer to get used to ignoring the social rituals humans use to keep things civilised.

They both sit, I drop down onto the sofa beside Spike, and Westgate pulls out a notebook from his brief case before continuing.

"As I said, I’m investigating a couple of things. There was an ... incident, yesterday at a local military installation. I’m not at liberty to discuss the details, but I can tell you there were a number of fatalities. One of them was Riley Finn’s wife, Sam."

He stops, obviously looking for a reaction. He doesn’t get one, unless you count the way Spike clenches his fists.

"Finn was the only person who observed the incident and actually survived, and we are anxious to debrief him, but I’m sorry to say he’s disappeared. He was seen walking towards town, and going into a local store."

He consults his notebook and checks the detail.

"The Magic Box. He was seen entering this store, but there have been no reported sightings of him after that. Were you present when he arrived?"

I take a deep breath. As I do, I notice Dawson. She’s watching Spike closely. I can see that Spike’s noticed, and there’s a puzzled look on his face. Enough of that, I need to answer the question since Spike seems to have decided to keep quiet.

"Yes, I believe we were there. I, we were rather upset at the time. Spike and I, we’d had a row, and we were trying to sort things out between us. It was a bit intense, but, yeah, he was there. He didn’t make much sense. I think he said something about Sam, but I really didn’t take it in."

"He told you his wife was dead, and you didn’t take it in?"

"He wasn’t making much sense. I thought maybe he’d been drinking or something like that."

I can see he doesn’t believe me, but he doesn’t press the issue.

"And you, Mr. Prescott?"

"The same. Like she said, all I was aware of was Buffy."

Westgate turns back towards me.

"And, when did Finn leave?"

"I’m not sure, I just didn’t pay him much attention."

He glances at Spike who provides a nod of agreement.

"I see. Tell me, Miss Summers. What exactly was your relationship with Riley Finn?"

"There was no relationship. We were together for a while. He left. I’ve only seen him once since then unless you count very recently. He came back with Sam."

"And recently?"

"He and Sam came round here. We ... we argued. I found out he’d been lying to me about something. Something important."

"Can you be more specific?"

"It was a private matter."

"I see."

"No, you don’t bloody see, mate." Spike’s accent seems more grating than usual. "She said it was private, so it’s none of your business."

"I beg your pardon, Mr. Prescott, but if it has some bearing on the matter I’m investigating, then it is not private."

"It had nothing to do with your investigation." Spike’s voice has more of the nature of a growl than a human voice. I flash him a look, and place my hand over his fist, pleading with him to calm down.

"Very well," Westgate continues. "I’ll accept that for the moment. Now, Miss Summers, perhaps you can answer a question that’s been intriguing me since I picked up this case. You tell me that you and Finn were together, but he left, and there was no relationship. Can you tell me, then, why it is, that even when he got married, he kept your name as a contact in case anything happened to him? He removed his parents from his list, and replaced them with his wife, but you remained. Why would he do that if there was no relationship?"

What can I say to that?

"I had no idea," I manage.

"You don’t know why he wanted you to be informed if something happened to him?"

"No, he didn’t tell me I was a contact for that. Even when we were together."

"I see. Miss Summers, I’m going to ask one further question. Please answer this truthfully, as any attempt to thwart this investigation could have serious consequences for you. Do you know the whereabouts of Riley Finn?"

"No," I state.

"Are you sure?" He’s looking at me, trying to detect a lie. "Are you certain you’re not just afraid Mr. Prescott won’t like the idea that Finn turned to you?"

Spike buts in. "You’re bloody right Mr. Prescott wouldn’t like that idea. But it doesn’t matter, because she doesn’t know where he is. Got it?" I can see Spike is one moment away from attacking Westgate, but doing his best to keep calm.

Westgate ignores Spike, and he’s still looking at me.

"I’ve got no information on where he is. He left the Magic Box, and I haven’t seen him since. Unless he’s still got friends at UCS, I’ve no idea of who else he might have turned to. And, the friends I knew about were all Initiative, and I’m sure you know them better than I do."

Westgate sighs deeply. He's obviously far from satisfied with what I've told him, but, short of calling me a liar, there's not much he can do right now.

There's a short pause, and Westgate speaks again. "The other matter I'm investigating came to light as a result of some papers we found in Finn's quarters. In those he details the fact that he met a known fugitive, a monster code-named Hostile 17. He claimed he was living in Sunnydale, under your protection, when he visited some months ago. More recent entries imply that he is still around, and still under your protection. Aside from the incident I mentioned earlier, I am concerned that Finn has somehow fallen victim to this hostile, and I want to know where he is. Do you know the whereabouts of Hostile 17?"

He's looking at me, so I answer him. "No."

"I have to say, that the records on this creature, this vampire, describe him as being rather like you, Mr. Prescott. And, finding you with Miss Summers, I have to say it all seems curious. I'd like to try a simple experiment, if you will? Mr. Prescott, would you like to accompany me outside? I understand that vampires have a certain intolerance to sunlight, and it would be a simple way to prove that it is all just a coincidence."

Spike growls. "Don't see why I should have to prove anything to you," he mutters.

"In that case," Westgate replies with a smug grin, "I'll really have to insist that you accompany me back to HQ for questioning."

"Not going anywhere, but if it'll get you off my back, I'll take a walk in the sunshine for you." Spike makes it clear that he's doing this under duress, but I heave a sigh of relief.

The two men walk outside together, leaving Dawson with me.

"How long have you known Mr. Prescott?" she asks, with an air of it having no importance.

"Don't know. A bit less than five years?" I reply, mentally adding it up.

"And, does he live here?"

"I really don't see how my living arrangements are your business, but no, he has his own apartment."

She nods, and manages to give the impression that she's understood much more than I intended to tell her.

The two men return, and Westgate's apologising to Spike. "You must just have a similar face," he mutters, turning to his colleague. She stands, and the two of them walk to the door. Spike remains in the lounge, leaving me to show them out.

Once we're at the door, Westgate speaks quietly, obviously to say something not for Spike's ears. "Very well, we’ll leave this matter. I’ll leave you my cell number. Please call me if you have contact with Finn. It’s vitally important that we speak to him. For his own sake, too. Man’s just lost his wife, and he probably saw it. He’s going to need counselling."

When they're gone, I return to the lounge to find Spike prowling the length of the room.

"Spike," I say, softly, not fully understanding his mood.

"She’s one of them," he growls.

"One of who?"

"She was one of the ones who put the bloody chip in my head."

Instinctively, I approach him, putting my arms around his waist. He stiffens, and for a second I think he’s going to pull away, but he doesn’t. Instead he puts his chin on the top of my head, and I feel him take a shuddering breath.

"Seeing her, didn’t even remember her until I saw her. Sent me back to right after the chip. Feeling helpless. The rage inside."

"It’s ok, Spike. We’ll do what we have to. And, we’ll do it together."

He nods. "We will, but, .."

He pulls away. "Sorry, Buffy. I need, I need some time. I need to sort things out in my own head. I can’t, not with you here."

With that, he’s gone. I hear his car start up. Alone, I feel the sorrow descending on me again. Dawn’s gone, and the peace I felt lying in his arms this morning suddenly seems so long ago. I curl myself up on the sofa and the tears start again.

It's been two days since they told us Willow was waking. So far, all we've seen are a few twitches, and we've heard a single moan. It's worrying. We just don't know what sort of shape she's going to be in when she wakes.

We've been thrown out of her room, as they're changing dressings. Xander's sitting beside me, and I know he's desperate to leave. Between his new-found relationship with Anya and his natural dislike of hospitals, he's not comfortable, but he is loyal. He can be irritating, ignorant, idiotic, but he's loyal. He's here because it's Willow.

"Go home, Xander," I tell him. "I doubt anything's going to happen tonight, and I'm planning on staying a bit longer. Go and see Anya."

His face lights up at the prospect, then falls again as he feels he can't do it.

"It's ok, Xander. I'll be here, and I'll let you know if anything happens."

He bounds up, and I get the irresistible picture of a huge puppy, complete with wagging tail, who knows he's going for a good, long walk. I haven't had that picture from Xander for a while, not since High School.

"Thanks, Giles," he mutters, but his thoughts have already left the hospital. He's gone.

I sigh with relief. When I'm sure he's gone, I go to the public telephone. I had to wait until the right time, and the right time would never be while Xander's here. I call my home, and Jenna answers. She's on her way.

She arrived in the country yesterday, and she's staying at my flat. She's one of the most senior members of the coven, and she's been sent to attempt to remove Willow's power. I know Xander will ask questions, maybe he’ll even already know about the risks involved in the procedure we're planning, and try to stop it. He's too trusting.

While I'm waiting, a posse of staff come out of Willow's room, and they're muttering among themselves. I'm concerned, particularly when the doctor approaches me. "Mr. Giles," he starts, and I suspect it's going to be bad news.

"Miss Rosenberg, it's very unexpected, of course, and I really can't explain it."

"Spit it out, man. Is she dead? Is that what's going on?"

"No, … no. As you know, we had to change her dressings. It's policy in cases such as these to disturb the injury as little as possible, but we had to redress the burns. But, it doesn't need dressing."

"What do you mean?"

"Perhaps it'd be best if you just come and see."

He leads me into the room where I last saw Willow swathed in white, totally unrecognisable. The bandages are gone. Willow looks …. Well, not normal. Her skin looks to be healing from terrible injury, but that's just it. She's healing. Her face and hands are red and angry looking, but the skin's complete.

"What?" I manage.

"I wish I knew," mutters the doctor. "I've been treating burns for twenty years, ten of them in Sunnydale, and I've seen some damn funny things, but I've never seen a case like this."

I nod, and sit beside the bed. If I was worried before, I'm petrified now. I imagine the power that must have been expended to achieve this healing, all of it unconsciously directed, and I admit I'm scared.

I'm relieved when Jenna arrives. She listens in silence to what I tell her, then asks if she can be alone with Willow. I agree. In truth, what I really want is to run away from this. I've felt like that before, of course. Every time there's an impending apocalypse, I want to run. I don't, though, because there's always the possibility that I'll actually make a difference. Instead I go to the phone and call Buffy. There's no reply at her house, so I call Spike's, hoping they're not out on patrol. Of course, if they are, I'll have to decide whether or not to disturb that. Fortunately, I don't have to decide. They're at Spike's. Now that I think about it, they're mainly at Spike's these days. I think Buffy finds it easier not to be in the house she shared with Dawn. I explain what's happened, and what's going to happen. I ask if they can come to the hospital. If the worst comes to the worst, I'm not sure they can help, but it'll make me feel better.

Jenna takes a long time. I'm surprised that no one from the hospital approaches Willow's room, and assume that's Jenna's doing. At last, she appears in the doorway, and I know she's concerned.

"I took the opportunity to try to find out where we went wrong," she tells me. "I went into her memories. I know what happened. Something, and she doesn't have a clear memory of what it was, something force-fed her magical energy. Then, she was sent right back to her memories of after Tara died - to the depths of her despair. She felt the suffering of the world all over again. She decided to end the world, and somehow, she thought that killing this, Dawn, would achieve that. Now, I don't understand parts of it, but that seems to be what happened."

I nod. It makes sense. There was no reason for Willow to go dark again, none. If someone used her memories against her, made everything fresh again, that makes sense.

"So, can you help her?"

She sighs deeply. "I don't know. The magic's still there, that must be what's responsible for the healing. I can take that magic, there's no question of that. The problem is, how do I describe this? You know that every living creature has somewhere inside them where magic can be stored. For most people, the magic stored in so tiny, it only becomes evident at a time of great need, or maybe it never becomes evident. Others, like Willow, have a huge reservoir. Normally the power has to come from the earth, or from a dark source, but, because she can store a large amount, she is incredibly powerful. We've had some success before now with shrinking the reservoir. We remove the magic that's there, and shrink the reservoir so that they can never gather so much power again. The records of the coven provide us with details on every time it's been done. But, something happened to Willow. It's as if her reservoir's been stretched. It's so huge, like a balloon, it's been blown up to many times its original size. I can try, as the agent for the coven, to shrink it, but it's not going to be enough. I can take the magic, but the reservoir will still be there, and it'll still allow her to become incredibly powerful."

I take this in. "What could have done such a thing?"

"I have no idea. There are no records that it has ever happened before."

"I see," I murmur. "How do you 'shrink' the reservoir?"

"Well, obviously, we can't actually shrink it. What we do, is we fill it with useless magic. The sort of magic that needs something else to allow it to be used, something that doesn't exist on the earth. The problem is, there is nothing huge enough to use for Willow. I'll do what I can, but …."

"I understand. And, the psychological damage?"

"After what she's been through recently, I think any damage caused by what I'm going to do will be insignificant. She'll almost certainly need counselling, if not psychiatric help after her recent trauma."

"Do you need my help in any way?" I ask, giving my indirect agreement.

"No, it'll be simpler if you just wait here."

I nod, and she's gone. I take my seat again, and within moments, I feel the surge of magic. It's making my skin tingle, my hair seem to stand out from my body. I'm convinced that someone's going to come, want to know what's happening, but the area seems deserted. That in itself is unusual.

I'm watching the clock opposite me, and I can't believe ten minutes could last so long. I tense as I hear the lift doors open, convinced I'm going to have to stop someone investigating, but it's Buffy and Spike. I heave a sigh of relief, and explain what's happened.

The company is so welcome. I never thought I'd think in terms of Spike's company being welcome, but when I think of the two times we've lost one of them - Buffy or now Dawn, it seems he just became one of us. Even more this time than last time. I can't deny the difference he's made to Buffy.

There's not a lot of conversation once I've explained what's happening. We sit there together, in a line. They probably don't even realise it, but they've been touching the whole time. Nothing unsuitable for public consumption, just hand holding, head on shoulder, arm around shoulder, gently rubbing the back of a hand. I wonder why I even notice. Maybe it's just the contrast with before.

I'm just thinking about going into Willow's room anyway, when the tingling starts to die down. I'm immediately on my feet, and my companions are too. We move towards the door as one, and the door swings open to welcome us. We file in, I'm in the lead despite a bit of jockeying for position. All three of us seemed to feel we should go in first.

The sight before me causes my breath to catch in my throat for a second. Jenna's lying crumpled on the floor at the foot of the bed, and Willow's sitting bolt upright, her eyes wide open. I run towards Jenna, unsure what's wrong with her, and Buffy takes her cue from me. She goes to the bed, and I hear her calling gently "Will?"

I check Jenna, and I'm relieved to find she's still breathing. I hope it's just overexertion from the spell, but I'm not sure. I get up to call a doctor and I glance at Willow. There're tears running down her cheeks.

"B .. Buffy? Is that you? Buffy, where are you? Why is it so dark?"

It's dark outside, but Willow's room is well-lit. I approach the other side of the bed from where Buffy and Spike stand. "Willow, it's not dark," I say softly, already guessing the truth.

Buffy's holding Willow's hands in her own, and Willow's moving them towards Buffy's face, desperate to reassure herself she's really there.

"Buffy, why can't I see you? Can you see me?"

"Will, I can see you. What's …"

"Willow," I start. "Remember, you've been bandaged for a while now. The bandages only came off earlier today. It may take a little time for your eyes to get used to the light again."

Even as I say the words, I know they're not true. I suspect the healing which her magic had begun hadn't yet spread to her eyes. They look normal, but it's obvious she's seeing nothing. Willow is blind.

After a while, the hospital staff insisted we leave and let Willow have some rest. They seemed less surprised that Willow was blind than by the fact that she looks so well-healed. But then, that's hardly surprising.

Giles left us for a while, when Jenna was taken to be examined. She came around quickly, and managed to persuade them she was just over-tired, so they allowed her to go home with Giles. He promised to get in touch with us later to let us know what happened, once he's heard the details from Jenna.

Spike and I leave the hospital in companionable silence. In truth, I don't know what I think about this recent development. When Willow called for me, wanting me close, I responded instinctively, but, now I've had time to think, I don't know how I feel about her. The news that she's potentially even more dangerous now than when she tried to end the world is pretty big. But, blind, wow, that was a shock. It's hard to imagine a world where it's always dark. I glance at Spike, and imagine what it'd be like to never see his face again. I reach up and trace a finger over his cheek, and he looks around, surprised.

"Just imagining how it'd be if this is the only way I could 'see' you," I explain.

He nods.

We reach his car, and get in. "Patrol or home?" he asks.

I glance at the time. It's still early enough to patrol, but I just don't feel like it.

"Home?"

"Next question," Spike smirks back at me. "Whose?"

I shrug. I've hardly spent any time at home since … Dawn. But I should. "Mine," I tell him.

He nods.

Once there, he seems unsure. He hovers in the hallway while I pick up the mail that's accumulated.

"What's the matter, Spike?" I ask.

"I'll go, then, shall I?"

"What? Why?"

"I thought we were going to take it easy," he reminds me. "If you're ok with being here, then I should go."

"If that's what you want," I reply. I'm hoping it isn't, but …. I couldn't have suggested what he just did.

"It's not what I want, but, maybe it'd be for the best."

"Best for who?"

He sighs deeply. "I can't help thinking we're going too fast. I'm scared this is all just fallout from Dawn, and that when you realise that, it'll be gone."

How could I ever have doubted that he loves me? Everything from the expression on his face to the stance of his body shows the complete dejection even the thought of losing me would cause. I walk up to him, and put my arms around his waist.

"I don't feel any differently now than before we lost Dawn. Well,…."

I pause. That's not quite true. "If anything, I do love you more, because … you're the only one who's really shared her loss with me. The others feel it, but, not like you and me. I'm not sure I understand why it was like that, but it was. But, I loved you before, and I don't think that's going to change."

I feel him relax against me, and I hope I've persuaded him. I know he's not going to leave, but he's not sure of me yet. So, I'll keep trying.

We settle down to watch TV, and eventually find a movie we can agree on. It feels right, sitting like this, with him, my head on his shoulder. The funny thing is, I can feel Dawn, too. I know she's here too, and I keep waiting for her to interrupt, but she doesn't.

*-*-*

I watch the lights go on in her house. It's a while since I've been here. It's better. This way, I know the layout inside, and I can get in. I'm feeling stronger with every day. Things are making more sense. Right after Sam died, I was lost. I felt all the anger, but it wasn't focussed. I even thought it was my fault for a while. I know better now. I know what I've got to do. It's funny, 'cos at first, I thought Spike was the big problem. Now, I see the truth. It's Buffy. She's the one who needs to die, but, if I have to kill Spike to get to her, I'll be happy. And, if not, then I can enjoy that afterwards like a reward for a job well done.

I spent a lot of time wondering how to do it. My first thought was, slow and painful. Then, I realised, the main thing was to kill her. If I get to take my time with Spike, that'd be a bonus.

I feel the other thoughts trying to get through. I've been getting better at pushing them back, but, tonight, they're winning.

I'm trying so hard to bury those other thoughts, and slowly, I push them back. I was going to move tonight. Now, I'm not so sure. I've lost focus, and I need to do something. Maybe, I need to get some .... relief. That’s what’s driving the other thoughts. Lust. He can’t have her – never will have, but maybe, I can do something to keep him down.

I’m considering the possibilities. The obvious one is the one I used before. It’ll mean losing some blood, but that’s not a problem. I’m just turning around to head into town, when I spot them. There're four of them, and they're positioned so as to make it impossible for me to run. I don't recognise them, not as individuals, but I know they're military, even without uniform.

"Agent Finn," one of them starts. They're all alert, expecting trouble.

"Yes?""

"We'd like you to accompany us, please. There are some questions that need to be answered."

"Fine, I'll report first thing in the morning. It really isn't convenient at the moment."

"Orders, sir," he apologises as something hits me in the back, sending waves of agony through me. I know what it is, used it often enough myself. There’s a second hit from the taser, and then ....

"He’s a mess."

"What’d you expect? He saw his wife die!"

"I know, but ...."

"No buts. Did you see the tape? I’m still having nightmares about it, and I didn’t know anyone in the room."

I slowly come back to consciousness, listening to voices above me. I’m restrained, but something’s cleaning me up. I open my eyes slowly, but the light’s too bright, and I close them again.

"He’s awake," someone says.

"Hello, Soldier." Another voice. This one seems familiar. I’m trying to work it out, but I can’t. I try another look. Still bright, but bearable this time. The face, yeah, I recognise him. Ex-Initiative doctor. Not one of the bigwigs, just a common or garden doctor.

"Tell them he’s awake," I hear.

Tell who?

"You got yourself into a bit of a state, here," the doctor comments.

There’s a nurse wiping my body down. Hardly surprising I need it. I haven’t washed since ...

Haven’t slept either.

I hear footsteps, and I know someone else has come in. I look around, and I know who it is. I saw him, outside Buffy’s. He’s been looking for me.

I think back to what happened. Oh yes. The other thoughts pushed forwards, and I was concentrating on getting them out of the way. That must be how they were able to get close. No matter, I’ll get away. Sooner or later, they’ll believe I’m just a traumatised widower, and they’ll relax security. Then, I’m off. But, this one’ll probably have to die.

"How is he? Is he up to questioning?"

"As regards the taser blast, yes, he’s ok for questioning. There's an unidentified mark - looks like a burn, on his back, between his shoulder blades. Doesn't look like a taser burn, but it doesn't fit any other likely cause either. As regards the rest? Who knows? I think we should get a psychologist in here, but I’m outranked."

"Yes, Doctor, you are."

They’re talking about me, but they’re not talking to me. I feel my muscles tense, and the restraints seem to stretch to accommodate the extra bulk. I note that for future consideration. Come to think of it, I have been feeling pretty good – strong, fast. Haven’t needed to sleep. Not sure why, unless it’s my purpose. At least that’s clear again. The other voice has been silenced for now.

"Let him sit up," the newcomer orders. Hands adjust the restraints, and I’m pulled into a sitting position. For the first time I realise I’m naked except for a sheet that’s currently stationed around my middle.

"Finn, I’m going to have to ask you some questions. I understand this is a painful time for you, but we have to have answers. We need to understand what killed your wife, if only to make sure it doesn’t happen again. We know you witnessed everything first-hand, and your information will be invaluable. My name is Simon Westgate."

He holds his hand out to shake mine. Why would I want to shake his hand? Why would I want to touch him? The lack of response seems to throw him for a moment, but then he sits down, pulls out a clip board and starts to ask questions.

I tell the truth about what happened. It’s documented anyway, he’s seen the movie, although I can’t imagine the T-shirts will sell very well. Then he asks where I’ve been. I stay silent for a while, then I make my decision. I’ll tell the truth, or at least as much of it as serves my purpose.

"Where did you go after you left the complex?"

"I followed the energy. It went into town, to a store there called the Magic Box."

"That’s the store owned by a friend of your ex-girlfriend, one Buffy Summers?"

"That’s right. Rupert Giles, Englishman."

"And, what happened there?"

"I saw the energy, and it went back to whoever summoned it. They were there, Buffy, and Hostile 17. He summoned it, and he held onto her, as it returned to him."

"Who is Hostile 17?"

"I’m sure you know very well who he is. He’s a vampire who was chipped by the Initiative. But, for some reason, Buffy, who you’ll find from Initiative records is the Slayer, wouldn’t stake him. He was chipped, so he couldn’t harm humans. But, somehow, he did something to her. It’s like he had hypnotised her. He was even screwing her, like he was human or something."

"I see. Tell me, is this Hostile 17?"

He holds up a photograph. "Yes, that’s him."

I continue to look at the photo, then I realise. It’s clearly Spike, and his arm’s around Buffy as the two walk into a building, looks like a school – in daytime. I gawk at the photo.

"As I understand it, vampires cannot stand the touch of the sun. So, how could it be him?"

"I don’t know," I manage. I’m wracking my brain, desperate to think of an explanation. Then it comes to me. Xander. He told me, Spike had a ring. It made him invulnerable, until Buffy took it from him. She gave it to Angel, but he destroyed it. Could there be another?

"There are things, magical charms that could let him walk in daylight. He must have something. He did before, but it was supposed to be destroyed."

Then I realise. Whose word do we have that it was destroyed? Angel's. A demon's word. It's not worth anything.

"It could be the Gem of Amarra. We were told it was destroyed, but, maybe it wasn't. It didn't make a lot of sense anyway. Buffy took it from Spike, and she sent it to Angel. He's supposed to be fighting the good fight in LA. I never did understand why he'd destroy it. What if he didn't, and either he gave it to Spike, or Spike stole it?"

"That all sounds a bit far-fetched, and who, exactly, is Angel?" he comments.

"So does the whole 'Chosen one' thing. I thought I was doing well when I could kill a couple of hostiles in a night. She regularly gets six or eight. Since she was sixteen, she's dusted thousands of vampires, not to mention other demons. That's far-fetched, too. And Angel, he's a vampire too. Apparently cursed with a soul, he was Buffy's first," I spit out the word, "Lover!"

He nods, apparently accepting what I've said.

"We'll investigate this - gem. Now, going back to what happened. You say this, Spike, summoned the energy that killed your wife. I've seen the tapes, and it looked like the energy came from the sphere. You say it didn't."

I think about that. At the time it seemed that way to me, too.

"Well, I thought so, until I saw what happened later. The energy that killed everyone, he soaked it up. He just stood there, and took it. It didn't hurt him. So, he must have controlled it. It makes sense that he would find a way to kill which could get around the chip."

"I see. We'll have to investigate, but, from what you say, I think we should bring in this Spike, or Hostile 17 as soon as possible."

That's good. If they get him out of the way, there'll be nothing to stop me killing Buffy. And then, when she's gone, I'll get him - assuming he's still alive. But, he should be. They won't kill him, although I don't think he's going to enjoy their company very much, either.

Last night was …. Good. Buffy and I just sat and watched TV, content to be close, without passion taking over. It's what was missing before. The just being-together. Of course, we were both thinking about Willow. Blind. It's a huge thing to take in. I know they're going to do tests, try to find out if it's going to heal, but … If the healing we saw was done by the magic, the dark magic that filled her before Jenna took it away, then maybe she's got to get it back to heal herself. And, if she does, then will she stop at healing? And wasn't healing one of Tara's things? And she never dabbled in anything other than the purest forms of magic. I've always said that magic has consequences, and that amount of healing, unless it came from the purest source, will have consequences we can only imagine.

Today's been a standard day at work. Or at least what passes as standard without Dawn. It seems so strange that I can miss someone when almost no one else even remembers her being there. I wondered why we remembered, when others didn't. It's not just that we were closer to her, because her best friends don't remember, and Anya does. I think it's just that we were present when she left. I think Giles agrees; he nodded in that way he has when I suggested it last night.

Considering my reason for being in the school is Dawn, it seems odd to still be here. I look around at the other kids, and I know why. There're lots of them, just as vulnerable as she was. They need Buffy and me to keep their school safe. And, we're going to try.

There's something unwholesome nesting in the basement, but, so far, I haven't seen enough to identify it. There's some nasty, slimy residue in one of the storage rooms, so I've been making a point of checking regularly. It's late in the day, the kids have gone, and I've just been down for another check. Still nothing definite. I check the time, and realise I've got to get back upstairs.

I had a call earlier. The local police want to talk to me about some incidents. Apparently some kids have reported stalkers, and they want to know what sort of set up we've got here, with a view to reviewing the tapes we have to find the culprits. That means I'm going to have to stay late tonight, and Buffy wants to go and see Willow. I suggested we go out after - maybe see a film, or have a meal. Depends how she feels after Willow. I think a film would be best, give her something else to think about. She's going to call me when she's finished at the hospital, and we'll decide then.

Officer Dayton - I think his name was - is due in five minutes. I've just got time to put on a pot of coffee.

I've just set the coffee maker going when there's a knock at the door. I call over my shoulder for him to come in, while I dispose of the old filter paper. Before I can turn round, I feel a pain in my back that I recognise immediately. Standing over me as my legs buckle are a man I don't recognise, and Dawson. She makes sure I see her before they zap me again, and I feel I have her face burned onto my retina before everything goes black.

*-*-*

Giles is at the hospital when I get there. He and Willow are chatting quietly when I go in. Everything seems remarkably calm.

"Hey, Will," I say, trying to sound upbeat.

"Hey, Buffy. How ya doin'?"

"I'm good," I reply.

Giles nods at me, gesturing me to sit on the other side of the bed from him.

"Giles told me about … your sister. I'm sorry, I don't remember her."

"Oh."

"It all fits with Spike's theory that only those of us present when she left us can remember her," Giles says with a distinct note of surprise.

"So, how are you, Willow?" I ask. What a stupid question. What can she say? Blind? Fortunately, she doesn't seem to notice.

"I'm ok," she replies. "They did some tests today, and more're scheduled for tomorrow. They're trying to work out whether the whole 'blindness' thing is temporary or not."

"Oh," is all I can manage. I'm torn between wanting to give her the biggest hug, and running from the room and never coming back.

Giles obviously recognises that conversation's difficult, so he clears his throat.

"I've been thinking, Buffy. From what Dawn said, it won't be long until she's back. Logically, though, she'll be vulnerable. If she needed to come to this time when she was, what, fourteen? That means she must have lived the rest of her life to that point in her own time. Now, say, for the sake of argument, that those who wanted to destroy the key, destroyed Dawn before she became the Key, what would happen?"

Now, that takes a bit of understanding. I let the words filter in slowly.

"Giles, what do you mean? If something happens before she's fourteen, could that change the last few years? Oh, …"

Light dawns. "You mean, those who wanted to destroy her, could do it in the future, before she's fourteen, and then when the Orb's destroyed, no key to counteract it?"

He's nodding, with that solemn expression that means he's worried.

"So, we'd better find out who Dawn really is, or will be as soon as possible, and find her. You and Spike have got to keep her safe a bit longer. But, the good news, is that I had a call today. The doctor who did all those tests on you? He's hoping to get results of the DNA tests tomorrow. Apparently they weren't due to be done for a week yet, but he pulled a few strings and got them moved up the queue. He's got three samples - there're yours and Spike's, and a third which he was confused about. Of course, he doesn’t remember Dawn, and the label on the sample somehow got lost, but I'm sure it's hers. It was with the other two. I'll let you know as soon as he calls."

"Good, but it won't necessarily tell us who she is. All we can get is how closely related to me she was," I point out.

"More than likely, but it'll give us a starting point. Then, it's just got to be detective work."

We sit and chat about lots of things, but avoid the whole issue of Willow. She’s scared, I can feel it, but she’s trying so hard to hide it. I can see Giles has something on his mind, and I'm hoping he's planning on sharing when we leave. I have to admit, I'm relieved when someone points out it's time for Willow to eat. It gives me an excuse to leave, and I'm glad that Giles decides to go too.

We walk down the corridor towards the elevator. "What did Jenna tell you?" I ask.

"Quite a lot," he replied. "Do you feel like a coffee? I can fill you in. Is Spike meeting you here?"

"That'd be yes to both. I’ve got to call him when we’re through."

We make our way to a coffee shop adjacent to the hospital. We take our drinks to a corner table, and Giles suggests I call Spike. I do, and I'm surprised when there's no response. I try his mobile, and again, there's no reply. He’s probably just gone to investigate the slime in the basement again. I’ll call again later.

"So, what happened with Jenna?"

"Well, she did as she said she would. The magic Willow had stored was strange, though. It wasn't magic from any source Jenna recognised. It wasn't dark, well, not recognisably so, but neither was it earth magic. She assumes it came from another dimension, somehow. That was the reason that it had such an effect on her. She was prepared for something she recognised, and she got something unknown. It may even be that it had an element of dark within it, but that would have been used when Willow took Dawn. Fortunately for Willow, she doesn't remember that incident at all. I assume that's simply the Dawn factor. She doesn't know she tried to hurt your sister this time, although her memories of trying to end the world the first time are complete. She just knows that she went to the hut, and burned it down. She thinks it was just the misery of living without Tara. I haven't done anything to persuade her otherwise. She's on a knife edge just now, and she doesn't need anything interfering with her balance."

I nod. It's going to be hard. When I'm missing Dawn, it's going to be hard to be close to Willow and remember that she tried to kill her - not once, but on three different occasions. Still, she remembers two, so maybe the third time won't make a lot of difference.

"So, DNA results tomorrow?" I ask to change the subject.

"Yes, I hope so. We would expect, if Dawn shared her parentage with you, that she would have about half of her DNA in common with you. Lesser percentages will denote a more distant relationship. So, depending on the percentage we come up with, I'll be expecting you to put together a family tree of sorts. I'll want to know about aunts, uncles and cousins on both sides of your family. Then we'll have to consider the possibility that your father may have further children."

He smiles tolerantly at the expression I've made at that suggestion. My dad didn't do too well with the two (or is that one?) he already had, so I'm really hoping he hasn't got any more on the way.

Talking of babies on the way, I glance to the table next to us, where someone's reading a paper. I make a note of the date, and realise I'm late. As in, my period's late. Of course it could be the whole 'traumatised by Dawn leaving' thing, or then again, it could be the fact that on the night she left, we conveniently forgot the fact that Spike's no longer a vampire. We didn't use any precautions, and Spike nearly had a major crisis of conscience when it dawned on us. I make a mental note to buy a test kit, just in case. Of course, we don't even know how our sort of demon procreates anyway. Or even if we do. Spike did say that few demons use sex as a way of procreation. At least, not sex as humans understand it. Most have another way, some similar insofar as new little demons grow inside either mum or dad, and some very different, like vampires. I daren't ask Giles to find out, because that would mean discussing things with him that I know he doesn't want to hear.

We finish our coffee in silence, and I pull out my cell phone to call Spike again. There's still no reply, so I ask Giles if he'll drop me off at the school.

We pull up outside, and the car park is pretty well deserted. I recognise the Principal's car, and a couple of others, then spot Spike's where he normally leaves it, in a particularly shady corner. Giles is intrigued to see the school they decided to re-build on the Hellmouth, so he follows me inside. I head straight to Spike's office, and it's empty. I look inside, and there's a full pot of coffee ready, and the coffee maker's still switched on. I move to his desk, and check to see if there's a clue to where he might be. There's a scribbled note in Spike's handwriting to the effect that he was expecting an Officer Dayton.

I head across the corridor to the Principal's office. His secretary's still at her desk, and I ask her if she knows whether the police officer arrived to see Spike. She tends to keep an eye on comings and goings into the school, and I'm hoping she knows where Spike is. Unfortunately, she knows nothing.

The first flutterings of panic are making themselves known to me, and I leave Giles in Spike's office to try to work out how to review the surveillance tapes while I do a complete check of the school. He should be here.

I check the whole place, calling his name as I search, and I know my voice is becoming shriller with each shout. I return to the office, to find Giles has worked out how to see what happened. He's looking concerned too.

We both sit in front of the monitor, trying to find the right time-scale. It has to be some time after me leaving the school, but we don't know how much later. We quickly identify the right tape, and we look at it, again and again, and there's no sign at all. Except, there's a point where the tape doesn't flow normally - someone just disappeared instead of moving out of shot.

Someone's tampered with the cameras. Someone with the kit to stop the cameras recording for a while. And the only people I can think of off the top of my head who'd be able to do that are the Initiative, or whatever they're calling themselves these days. I remember the effect Dawson had on Spike, what he suffered the last time, and my blood runs cold. There's only one possibility I can think of, and that's that they've got Spike again.