SECTION 1 - HOLDING OUT FOR A HERO

I need a hero
I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light
He's gotta be sure
And it's gotta be soon
And he's gotta be larger than life

((Jim Steinman wrote it, I think, even though the site where I found the lyrics says it's Bonnie Tyler) - Bonnie Tyler

Chapter 1.12
Sunday, May 26th, 2002

Spike lounged on one of the red sofas that he'd dragged toward the centre of the reception area and blew the smoke from his cigarette in the direction of the grey demon, watching entranced as the energy barrier surrounding Skip made the tendrils curl away several feet before they reached him. Rogue sat on the floor next to him so that her head rested by his side, just at the right height for him to scratch behind her ears whenever he didn't consciously stop himself.

"Would you stop doing that?" Angel protested in an irritated way. "In fact, if you're going to smoke, go outside."

"Why? There isn't a mystical barrier or two out there to bounce the stuff off. It's way more fun in here. Call it an experiment."

Skip, meanwhile, tested the bounds of his inner prison, a cylinder of force marked out by a circle of red sand on the hotel floor. "Sand of the Red Palm. A child's trick."

"Maybe so," Wes coolly conceded. "Nevertheless, it has proved more than sufficient to keep you incapacitated until we were able to arrange something rather more permanent."

"And what might that be?"

"You seem to think you're so superior, I'm sure you'll work it out... In time."

Angel strolled over toward his antagonist. "...If you had any. You see, Wes and Fred here just happen to have a few little spells up their collective sleeves. How about we start with that one you found, Fred?"

"Sphere of the Infinite Agonies. Every second, a lifetime... and Wes just happens to have everything all laid out and ready for the invocation."

"Hey, whoa, I'm-." The demon seemed to cough. A spatter of slime green blood hit the 'cylinder' walls and began to run down. "I'm-." Again, the demon coughed and spluttered, gasping for breath as he spat gobbets of what passed for blood. "What the hell?"

Spike smirked. "Who knew the bit about 'Let his deceitful tongue be cut out' was quite so literal? Though not literal enough to make it actually drop off, 'cause then you wouldn't be much use to us, but it sure as hell feels like it, doesn't it? Truth spell, chump. We don't just want you to talk. We want to know the truth. Now, unless you want Boy Watcher here to start invoking, I suggest you rephrase whatever you were about to say."

"But first what was it that you were going to say?" Buffy interrupted from her perch atop the reception desk.

"I don't think that would be in my best-." A panicked look came over the demon's face as Wes began to chant. "Look, I was going to say 'I'm just a merc'... Just quit with the hocus pocus. I don't care how this turns out. I'm only in it for the money."

Wes replaced the sheet of paper he had been using for a bookmark and closed the volume from which he had been reading.

Skip rapidly continued. "Whatever you want to know... Look, I go where the deal is, and not being in one of them things... bargain."

"So what makes the statement 'I'm just a merc' less than the truth?" Buffy probed.

"Because I'm not just a merc. I'm an exceptional merc." Skip looked over at Spike's cigarette. "You haven't got a spare one of those, have you?"

"Several, but they're all stayin' on this side of those barriers, monochrome."

"What did you do to Cordelia?" Angel's impatience showed in his every move and in every inflection of his voice.

"It was just a Jacob's Ladder. I ain't responsible for whatever happens at the other end."

"And what does happen at the other end?" Wesley's coolness made a perfect counterpoint to Angel's anger.

Skip obviously hesitated.

Spike sat up and swung his feet to the floor before rising. "That spell they've got rigged up really isn't one you want to be messin' with. See, if we get it goin', by the time we argue about how long to leave it running before we check to see if you're ready to talk..." Before he continued Spike let the demon imagine the eons of torture he could go through while the group bickered over how long to leave him in his own hell. "So just face facts, unless you're expecting some sort of miracle, you better just answer everything we ask, when we ask."

"It's some kind of possession deal. The one I'm working for needs a body so she can come to earth."

"And what happens to Cordy while this 'one' uses her body?" Angel asked.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?" the elder vamp seemed to be on a roll and no one felt like interfering. "She gets left behind?"

"Not possible. She'll be in there. She just won't be driving the bus."

Buffy's face betrayed her disgust. "So she'll be like watching this... whoever do stuff with her body, but she won't have any control over it?"

"Pretty much."

"And that's why she's gone to this higher plane?" Angel was obviously almost as frustrated by the barrier separating him and Skip as the other demon. "So that some... some what? can hijack her body?"

"Are you telling me you thought it was because she was such a pure radiant saint? Right. And as to the what or the who that would be beyond your comprehension. To give it voice would render your feeble brain into a quivering mass-."

"Wes, get chanting."

"...Or you could call her a higher being. You seem to prefer to use the name A Power That Be... Or Is."

"Does this higher being have a name?" Lorne asked.

"No name."

"So what do you call it?" Angel quizzed the larger demon.

"Hey... or master."

Wesley eyed the grey demon, his curiosity evident. "There has to be more to it than this. Once it has control of Cordelia, then what? It doesn't just want to be Cordelia, does it?"

"Who would?"

"So what happens next?" Wes asked.

"This can't be right," Angel interrupted. "Cordy was made a higher being because she proved herself to The Powers. She had the visions and she chose to bear them, whatever the cost."

"Unless, as I seem to recall telling you, The Powers are motivated by self-interest," Wes clarified. "The visions were simply a ploy to bring things to this point."

"So all the time we were just being manipulated..." Fred sounded disappointed.

"Uh-huh." Skip laid on the sarcasm. "Better step on it. The rubes are catching up."

"To what end?" Wes took over the questioning again.

"So that Junior there can fulfil his destiny."

"Which is..."

"To be the father of earth's saviour."

"How'd we all jump from it bein' in Cordy to Connor bein' its daddy?" Fred asked before she noticed that Connor had turned bright red. "Oh! Oh!"

Angel took a bit longer to realise what Fred had figured out. "Don't be ridiculous. Cordy changed Connor's diapers. They wouldn't-." He turned to look at his embarrassed son.

"I might have. If I'd thought it was her. I mean if I'd thought she felt that way."

"Well, she doesn't. You're like her son... You would sleep with my girlfriend?"

Spike snorted. "You sleep with every bugger else's. And she ain't, not yet, an' if we don't do something, not ever. We need to figure this out, people. This thing, is it already inside her?"

"Like I said, my job was just to get her there."

"And this... bit of demon that she got before... that was a separate deal? Or was that just the first stage?"

"Kinda both."

Spike fixed the demon with an impatient glare, and to Skip's surprise began the invocation for the sphere spell from memory.

"Alright. She needed to be stronger than human for the second bit to work, but that first bit was just a physical thing, okay?"

"So, if we can get her back before this thing finishes its Exorcist routine then we still have 'our' Cordelia... if it hasn't already done it."

"Strength," Angel mused. "That's what this is all about. Creating a vessel strong enough to contain this thing. That's why it needs Connor."

Skip rolled his eyes. "Look out, the monkeys are thinking again."

"So," asked Spike. "Far as I recall, Jacob's ladder was a two-way street. Say we bring her back before this Power of yours is finished takin' over, how do we know whether what we've got is just the girl or whether there's something else there with her? I mean, if this thing's so... Power-ful, have we got any way of checkin' that it can't fool?"

"Well, there would be the Tarakeen Ritual of True Sight but since I doubt any of you could even read the thing even if you did get a hold of a copy..."

Wes gave a tight smile. "Let us worry about that."

"And if it isn't just her?" Spike asked. "How do we get rid of this thing?"

"Easy. Chop her head off."

Angel glowered at the other demon. "There has to be another way."

"Sure. Stab her in the heart, the kidney, couple of pokes in the lung."

"A way that won't kill Cordy in the process."

"It takes a whole lot of crammin' to get that much sweetness into a human. It's in every hair, every cell, every molecule of Cordelia's body and it ain't letting go until her and Oedipus make it a whole new bag."

Fred hesitated but she had to ask. "So just say, for the sake of argument that, well... that happened, what would happen to Cordy then?"

"Drained of her life force during labour. Those contractions are a real bitch."

"So even if it gets its new vessel, it'll still kill her?"

"Or she'll end up a head of cabbage."

"In that case, we better just hope we get her out of there before the Bigger Bad finishes worming its way inside." Spike exhaled a particularly long plume of smoke and turned to Wes. "Want me to ring your Tarakeen-talking assistant or would you rather do it yourself?"

Wes kept his eye on Skip as he gave Spike a gracious smile, noting the demon's bitter surprise. "Go ahead and call her. It's only just after one on a Sunday morning. I doubt she'll be in bed, yet. In the meantime, I'm sure Skip here would love to explain that Jacob's ladder spell."

"Right-oh! An', Angel, I think maybe now would be a good time to take your son off to one side an' explain the concept of safe sex... always assumin' that you understand it yourself."

* * * * *

"Why my body? Okay... it's a pretty good body, but really, lots like it. And, hey, first I heard about all this. Don't you think I would know if there was something else in here with me?" Cordy muttered under her breath. "Like you couldn't use Carmen Electra or somebody? Or Pamela Anderson? She needs someone else in charge to do her thinking for her."

The seer watched as Skip questioned her qualifications for the post of higher power. "Hey, I suffered. Not saying that I'm Mother Teresa or anything but I gave up fame and fortune so that Gloom Boy wouldn't end up raving and chained to the wall by Wesley, the one armed bandit... and those headaches... not fun. I darn well earned the right to be here... and I'll have you know that being me is pretty darn spiffy... most of the time... except for the suffering for-.

What? You have to be kidding me? Those visions nearly killed me and now Poindexter says it was all just a big con trick. And you couldn't have told anyone this two and a half years ago?"

Cordy's mouth fell open as she realised the next turn that the conversation was taking. "Yah, right, as if. I need toothpaste and carbolic just for thinking about it. It's practically incest. And what is it with men? For me to be your girlfriend, you would kinda hafta ask me out on a date, a real one... and pay for it... I'm not going through food poisoning again just so you get another free dinner. Too right, Bleach Boy, I'm not his...

Wait up, this thing sent me visions and deliberately added the mess of brain tumours that came with them so that I would become part demon, so that when it used my body to boff the son of the guy I'm actually in love with, the kid's body would be strong enough for it to possess it instead? And I bought it all?

Hang on, Skip To My Lou. Less with the chopping and the stabbing and the poking. There's got to be another way to deal with this...

Ah crap!"

* * * * *

"Watcher's Little Helper says she might have a copy... if she transcribed it into one of her notebooks before she threw away the original. If not, she's gonna get in touch with some folks as might. Either way, when she tracks down a copy she'll ring the hotel number, so she should get whoever is keeping watch on Cordy's fairy godmother, here." Spike nodded to Buffy as he strolled over to stand next to the reception desk. "'An' Pixie says hi, an' if she's not in when we get back not to worry. She's probably still over there."

"Why on earth would she throw out the original?" Wes asked, his expression one of total incomprehension.

"I think she said something about tomato soup... or cat barf or both. She was kinda vague."

Skip grinned. "And the fate of your world lies in those hands? Or at least the fate of Cordy. I think maybe you better sharpen up some axes." The demon tilted his head slightly to one side and added in a faux-light tone, "It's the only way to be sure."

Wes looked up from the notes he had made when he was talking to the demon. "Why don't you spare us the Aliens homage and answer this instead? Is there anything else that you're aware of that you would want to know if you were in our position?"

"Sure." Skip's gaze wandered to the blonde couple, who were no longer giving the conversation their full attention. "Demon spit's cleaner than human."

For the benefit of anyone who didn't notice already, the last couple of chapters have been largely based on the transcript of the AtS episode "Inside Out" with much of Skip's dialogue in particular being lifted directly from the show.

Chapter 1.13
Sunday, May 26th, 2002

"Angel, bu-." Skip coughed and spluttered once more. "Okay, not my buddy, but can't you see you already lost this fight? Coming back from a higher plane's like a diver coming up from the bottom of the ocean. If you don't take the time to do it right... well, what you get back won't necessarily be what went up there in the first place...

And if you do take your time and do it properly, then you're definitely going to get more than you bargained for."

Bee looked up from the notebook she had resting open on the counter between her and Wesley. Even at six in the morning after a sleepless night and a two hour drive, she still wasn't about to be seen in public without her black eyeliner and red lipstick, but the eyes the kohl outlined looked slightly redder than usual and her weariness showed in her posture. Rupert walked back and forth on the counter in front of the pair as if he were reading upside down and supervising as Bee coached Wes through the ritual. "Tell us something we don't know, one horn, or shut up." She pointed at a word in the notebook, the script looking like a cross between Cyrillic and Arabic. "Shuhnahean," she enunciated before waiting for Wesley to repeat it.

"Shinaheen."

"Nearly. More guttural on the first syllable and more drawn out on the last, like skean dubh. Try again."

"Shuhnahean."

Bee nodded and moved her finger back to the beginning of the passage, making Wes read all the way through to the point they had just reached before she moved on to the next word.

* * * * *

"Wes, the containment spell's ready." Fred called from the hotel's garden. "Are you sure you can get this Jacob's ladder hoosit to put her down where we want?"

"Never having used the spell before, I can't make any guarantees, but I think it's better that we try it this way rather than wait any longer or take the chance on releasing some grave evil. I'm sure, under the circumstances, if we give Cordy a few years, she might forgive us for keeping her captive until we can determine whether it really is just her that we got back.

Angel, it's decision time."

Angel's expression, even grimmer than usual, betrayed the difficulty of his choice. Wes and Fred had come to the same logical conclusion when they discovered the intricacies of the process to bring Cordy back. Angel had grudgingly concurred, but had put off any final decision until they were ready to put their plan in motion.

"Call through to their rooms and wake the others. I guess in the end it's my choice, but, considering the stakes, I don't want anyone saying they didn't get a chance to argue their point of view, and if we go ahead we better have some manpower available in case things go wrong."

* * * * *

"So you plan to free me from my captivity on a higher plane so that you can stick me in a cage down there?" Cordy sounded unimpressed. "And can I just say how much I don't like your little plan? Not that I'm particularly keen on the alternative, either, so I suppose I'm going to have to let you off, but you could at least have put one of the sofas in your little cell."

* * * * *

"So I guess in this little analogy, there's no equivalent of a depressurisation cylinder?" Spike asked.

"No," Angel confirmed. "We have one chance at this, no second guessing and no safety net. We're- ...or I should say Cordy's caught between a rock and a hard place, but she can't make this choice. We have to make it for her."

"So Brain Trust, over there, wants to go with the option where we could end up with brain-damaged, crippled, possessed Cordy rather than just possessed Cordy?" Gunn asked, having left his room for the first time since Wes's arrival.

Wes's tone was cool and level as he responded to the younger man's attack. "That is the case. There are risks inherent to each possible course of action, but on balance I think a possibly possessed Cordy whatever her physical or mental condition is preferable to an almost certainly possessed Cordy."

"And if some of us don't appreciate the idea of our friend ending up like some sort of Star-Trek transporter accident?"

"Then your opinion will be duly noted," Angel interrupted. "Lorne?"

The large, green demon gave a twist of one side of his mouth and tilted his head on one side in a sort of shrug. "I'm having a tough time thinking of anything worse than being trapped in my own body while someone else does the sort of driving that means I'm making not so sweet love with the kid I played mama for. I gotta think she'd rather we got three quarters of her back, than all of her and that hitchhiker. I'm with Wes."

Angel's gaze travelled to Spike and Buffy, but the blond shook his head. "S'your bird, all bar the shouting. We're just the tourists. If we can help, fine, but it's not our choice to make."

"Connor?"

"What if we just wait? There must be something we can do that doesn't involve all this magic, and we only have his word that this is true..." The teenager glared at Skip, still trapped inside his prison, though apparently untroubled enough to doze off leaning against the mystical force field that held him.

"His word under a truth spell," Spike gently reminded him. "Believe me, those things work. I know."

"If we wait, whatever comes back, it won't be Cordelia," the other vampire argued. "It'll look like her. It might seem to act like her. It'll probably even smell like her, but it won't be her. Cordy will be trapped in her body with it, helpless to do anything, and the only help we'll be able to give her is to put her out of her misery. Waiting isn't an option."

Angel's gaze moved to Fred. "I know what you think." He spared her the burden of publicly siding with Wes against her boyfriend. He looked around the room again, meeting each person's gaze as he did so. "Wes, Fred, do what you need to get her back... and do it quick."

* * * * *

Angel, Wes, Lorne, Connor, Fred and Gunn waited just outside the bounds of the cylindrical containment spell that Fred had set up in the Hyperion's garden, while Spike, Buffy and Bee remained in the reception with the animals just in case Skip decided to take advantage of the others' distraction and make a break for freedom. The column of light that descended from the sky was barely distinguishable in the early morning sunshine, but, as Cordy came nearer, her own incandescence was clearly visible. The group held swords and axes and, in Lorne's case a tranquiliser pistol, reluctant as they all were to make use of them.

They all held their breath as the woman alighted on the ground next to the fountain at the centre of the garden. Brown eyes swept Angel from head to toe before returning to the broadsword he held in his hand.

"I know I stood you up, but isn't that just a bit on the extreme side?"

* * * * *

Cordy's reedy off-key rendition of 'The Greatest Love of All' ground to a halt as she watched Lorne's pained expression.

Everyone stared at the green demon, waiting for him to pronounce judgement. He simply shook his head. "What say Wes, here, gets back to learning Tarakeen? I'm going to go see if I can catch up on all that sleeping and all those seabreezes I missed last night."

As he turned to go, Cordy rushed after him. "Lorne?"

A dozen things happened at once as everyone reacted to the fact that the magical barrier had failed to contain the seer, but it was Connor's actions that made his father freeze in terror and brought a scream to Fred's lips. The teenager knew that the anagogic demon was simply stalling, that his gift had confirmed their worst fears and if this thing could so easily circumvent what to all of them was an impenetrable force field then it could not be allowed to roam free. Before anyone could intervene, the heavy double-headed axe that he carried was swinging with unerring accuracy for the slender column of Cordelia's neck.

Chapter 1.14
Sunday, May 26th, 2002

The blade sailed through Cordelia's neck with no loss of momentum and came straight out the other side. A second later, Connor's father rugby-tackled the youth to the ground. Lorne turned back to see what was happening as Cordy's grasping hand passed through him.

"What the-." Cordy turned to face Connor a hand on either hip. "Well, if you ever thought there was the remotest possibility that I might even consider sleeping with you, you can forget it now," she reprimanded him before her voice softened slightly, though her impatience remained as she turned to glare at the former watcher. "...Not least because you all seem to regard my body as an optional extra... though given that I'd be dead now, otherwise, maybe that's a good thing.

That doesn't mean that I wouldn't like you to fix it."

Wes nervously cleared his throat. "I'll go do some research, shall I?" He turned back toward reception, just as Buffy pushed open the door. Thanks to Spike's colour commentary, even though she hadn't quite been sure who she would have been meant to be helping, she had dashed to assist in the fray, leaving Skip in the care of Bee and Spike. Much to his distress the vampire was unable to join the fray and brave the sun while Angel still had the orbs. Wes turned the slayer around, ushering her before him as he made his way back inside.

The seer fixed her attention on Lorne. "Okay, I know I'm me, so how about you tell me what you actually saw, big guy? ...Preferably before the Lizzie Borden appreciation society works out a way to chop my head off for real."

"I don't know, pumpkin. There was a whole mess of stuff, none of it good, but none of it real clear either. I don't know whether it means you're possessed or what."

"Am I acting like some kind of evil bitch queen from another dimension?"

Gunn's response was softened by its friendly tone. "More than normal, you mean?"

* * * * *

"We appear to have a slight problem," Wes announced to the room at large. "Cordelia is non-corporeal."

"Well, duh!" Bee barely looked up from her quest for an ashtray. "Rupert could have told you that. Don't tell me, when you said Fred had set up a containment spell, you were talking about a purely physical barrier?" Finally, the petite blonde gave up her search and flicked the half inch of ash that had accumulated at the end of her cigarette, lit as soon as Wes went outside, into an empty coffee mug instead. When she looked up and caught his expression of consternation she decided she should explain further.

"She was in a metaphysical plane, right?" she paused, waiting to make sure she wasn't going too fast for anyone. "So, her natural state in that plane would be metaphysical... We couldn't do the whole gradual thing, so you brought her back straight away, as she was, but it's not her natural state in this plane. It's not as if she'll stay that way. It'll wear off... in a week or two... but I guess you've never been to a metaphysical plane, huh?"

"Strangely enough, no, I can't say that I have," Wes retorted, his patience clearly strained.

Bee retaliated by becoming defensive. "It's not my fault that I didn't assume you were an ignoramus. You seem quite intelligent most of the time."

Spike decided that now might be a good time to intervene. "Okay, kiddies, no point arguing over what can't be changed, which brings us to the next question. Is Queen C going to cool her heels here for long enough for you to do your spell or not? 'Cause if you can't keep her here, there doesn't seem to be a lot of point in all that mumbo jumbo you've been learning."

* * * * *

"Alright, fine. I'll wait around for you to do your spell. Just stop sticking your hand through me."

"Sorry," Fred shifted back a foot. "It's just I haven't ever touched somebody that wasn't there before. Do you feel different?"

"Yeah, I feel like I haven't had a shower in three weeks and my friends are suddenly looking at me like I'm some sort of science experiment. Now I know how Phantom Dennis feel-.

Hey, somebody want to press the buttons on the phone so I can call and tell him I'm okay? He's been worried sick."

Spike raised an eyebrow and whispered to his antecedent as he passed him one of two large mugs filled with blood. "Phantom Dennis?"

Angel shrugged as he watched Fred make the call. "Her apartment's haunted. He's kinda cool, fetching stuff and things, except he got pissed off with us for not finding her quicker, so then, he got more with the throwing stuff around. If he had a body I think I might have competition."

Spike treated his grandsire to a questioning glance. "Other than junior, you mean? Now she doesn't have a body, maybe you do."

"Thanks, Spike, and I really needed that little reminder."

Spike smirked. "Well, you didn't listen when we told you that you should see that he met some kids his own age."

"I was going to get around to it. Only, it suddenly seems a bit more urgent. It's a pity Dawn-."

"Seeing as how I prefer my Bitlet intact in every sense of the word I suggest you don't even think about finishing that sentence."

* * * * *

The afternoon was half gone by the time Bee pronounced herself happy with Wes's rendering of the True Sight ritual and she laid out the sacred circle he would need to use in its performance.

Skip seemed to grow increasingly anxious as the preparations continued. "Hey, remember I said that it was only dead guys that don't need to use the can? Ain't it time you arranged a toilet visit?"

Angel looked over at the demon who had played a major part in their current problems, his expression disparaging at best. "The floor's marble. It'll clean."

"Do you think I can go when I'm being watched like some sort of zoo exhibit?"

Spike smirked. "That'll make for a messy explosion, then." He tilted his head on one side and looked at his grandsire. "Just a thought, but what are you planning on doing with Ringface, here?"

"I'm thinking that might depend on how vindictive I'm feeling once we see what Wes's spell tells us."

Spike's smile widened. "I really wouldn't want to be you, Grey, if she didn't make the trip alone."

"This time we get to help, though? Right?" Connor looked across at his father.

"What I had in mind, you're too young to even watch on television."

Buffy elbowed Spike as she scolded the Aurelians. "Would you guys quit baiting the prisoner and let Wes get on with the spell? A certain someone is going to get real cranky if we don't get this sorted out and get him back in time for his date."

* * * * *

Wes threw a handful of powder from the bowl at his feet, not so much over Cordelia but through her. He spent some time staring at her image as if it were taking him a while to work out what he was actually seeing. To everyone else in the room there was only a slightly luminous Cordy standing on top of a patch of blue dust. The former watcher walked around the woman, looking at her from all sides, making sure he hadn't missed anything. Then, after what seemed like eons he stamped three times on the marble floor to end the ritual.

"There would appear to be good news and bad news."

He looked straight into Cordelia's eyes as he spoke. "There are two non-human presences sharing your body. The first appears benign and is completely integrated into every aspect of your physical make-up. I believe that is the demon essence which allowed you to have the physical strength to cope with the visions. The second, I believe is at least part of the being which planned to use your body to enter this realm. However, as yet, it seems to be inside of you rather than being an indivisible part of you. If we act soon, it may be possible for it to be expelled without you suffering excessive ill-effects. Bee?"

The blonde looked as if she didn't want to provide false optimism. "Theoretically, yes, but all or part of it, you're still talking about a higher power. You're going to need a coven to provide enough power and you're going to need a mage or a witch with the will to take on what to all intents and purposes is a god to focus that power. Wes wouldn't stand a chance, or Tara even. It's dangerous, too. I wouldn't want that lead mage to be someone I cared about. It's possible that you may have to trade a life to save her. It's just... I mean theoretically, it's do-able..."

Spike fumbled to find his cigarettes, and when he spoke it was with an air of solemnity. "You've never met Red, have you, pet?"

SECTION 2 - TUBULAR BELLS (The theme from 'The Exorcist')

Instrumental

(Mike Oldfield - Album - Tubular Bells)

Chapter 2.01
Sunday, May 26th, 2002

"Spike, you're hearing, but you're not listening. We're talking about Aleister Crowley, Marie Laveau... that sort of powerful spell caster, not some twenty-something kid that can't even control herself."

Buffy shook her head. "If anyone can do it, Willow can. What we need to worry about is whether she would, and whether she should. I'm not convinced, if it's as risky as Bee thinks, that we even have a right to ask her to try."

"The witch managed a resurrection spell," Spike informed the shorter, bustier blonde. "A true resurrection spell, not a ghoul, or a zombie, but an actual think-for-herself resurrection. By my reckoning, that puts her up there with your notables, and it wouldn't be the first time she's gone head to head with a god. Can't say as she won first time around, but she got out of it alive.

And as to whether we should ask her or not, I'm guessin' Red would get pissed off if you were to start making all her decisions for her. I reckon she'd do it, too, for the exact reason she shouldn't."

"What do you mean?" Buffy asked.

"If she did it because it was the right thing to do... If she really believed she was risking her own life or well-being to help another, then, that curse demon bint's mate put on 'er would reverse at least a bit, wouldn't it? 'Cause it would be a selfless act. Red won't see it like that though, not now. Maybe Blue's age thing might have knocked the shine off of her feeling of invincibility. She might actually be beginning to realise that she can't do whatever she wants without there being any consequences, but I think she's probably still arrogant enough to think, given her gifts that she'll be able to do it for free. She'll do it, to prove she can. Like the sweetie over there says, if she pulls it off, that would put her in some very elite company, kinda like the spell caster's equivalent of winning a Nobel Prize. We've all had things to say about her spell casting of late an' how she cocks stuff up because she doesn't think it through, because she doesn't give magic the respect it deserves. Lord knows, her an' glow-in-the-dark Barbie, over there, have never been best mates, so it's not like that's goin' to give her an incentive, but to prove us wrong..."

"And if it..." Buffy couldn't even bring herself to put her friend's death into words.

"If it kills her?" Dawn asked from the corner where she had been teaching Connor how to play rummy. "Then, maybe her death actually achieves something worthwhile, rather than her ageing herself into her grave by stages, trying to magic the world and everyone around her to be how she wants them."

Angel cleared his throat, knowing that hadn't really been all that was worrying Buffy. If Spike's assessment was correct, then asking Willow to help was almost like being responsible for signing her death warrant. "I'll ask her. There's less pressure on her to accept if she doesn't want to that way than if Buffy were to ask her."

"Em," Bee hesitated to interrupt but she did feel that something else had been forgotten. "Not to spoil all your plans here, but aren't you still short a coven?"

Spike grinned. "I think we can work out something that'll approximate. Bigger the better, huh?"

"I guess... I mean there has to be a limit to how much power the focal caster can draw through herself without... well... but up to that limit, more is better."

The blond's gaze turned to his grandsire. "I'm going to borrow your office for a while. I've got some calls to make. Why don't you an' your little firefly see if she can actually sit in a moving car as opposed to the car going through her? Or maybe she can just will herself up to Sunnyhell? Seems to me, if it's gonna get done, that's the place to do it."

The vampire took Buffy by the hand leading her into the office with him. "Figure we might need to do some negotiating on this one, pet."

As they departed, Bee called after them. "You're not going to get this all set up before sundown, are you?"

"Doubtful, pet. Why?"

"It should be easier in daylight, preferably noon... And from a purely personal view point, my life wouldn't be worth living if I came all the way to LA without going to visit a certain lady, goes by the name of grandma."

* * * * *

"Willow?" Angel found it hard to believe his eyes when he saw the girl he had known. If it weren't for the eyes he would never have believed it was the same person. Her face was heavy with wrinkles and her auburn sixties style bob looked like a nylon wig, one that might have belonged to her grandmother. The sweats she wore strained at the seams although they had previously belonged to her mother and even though Buffy and Spike had tried to prepare him, they hadn't been witness to the latest ravages wrought by the curse.

"You know, I'm thinking about changing that legally so that you spell it with a question mark at the end." Instead of humour she imbued her reply with bitterness. "What do you want?"

"I- well, I need a favour."

"If you want me to watch Buffy for you again, that would be kinda hard seeing as I'm not allowed in her house any more."

"It's nothing to do with Buffy. I need a magic user, an extremely powerful magic user."

"Haven't you heard? I'm just an arrogant amateur."

"What I heard was that if the ritual needed a mage on a par with Crowley or Laveau then you were the person to see."

Willow's eyes narrowed as if she suspected she were being manipulated. "Who told you that?"

"Does it matter? Are they right?" the vampire asked. "Right now, I have to say you don't look so..."

"I might look old, but my magic is just as strong as it ever was. What is the spell?"

"Not so much a spell. It's an exorcism... and you would be exorcising something not too far removed from a god."

The witch seemed to consider for a brief time. "It can't be done by one person alone."

"No, we can provide the back up, but the bulk of the burden needs to fall on one person. From what I've heard it's likely to be very dangerous for that person."

"If they weren't up to it, yes, it would be, but if you get me spell casters with enough power to do the job, then I'll get it done."

Angel nodded. "I'll arrange for someone to pick you up at eleven tomorrow morning and take you over to The Magic Box. If you don't think the people we find are up to the job then no one will think any less of you if you back out."

"No one except me," Willow replied.

* * * * *
Monday, May 27th, 2002

"Where's Buffy?" Wes looked past Dawn as she opened the door.

"Watching Spike make breakfast," the teenager supplied with a roll of her eyes.

Before the teenager had even finished speaking, Wes strode off in the direction of the kitchen.

"Do you know anything about this?" the brunette demanded, slamming down the piece of paper he'd been clutching in his hand in front of Buffy. "The slip that came with it said, 'Compliments of Miss Summers'."

Buffy stared at it for several seconds before she responded. "Darn! If that is after taxes, I'm definitely on the wrong side of this gig." When Wes didn't seem to see the funny side she explained further. "Name the largest group of magic users in California."

"I don't see..."

"Tara has managed to round up some of the Wiccans from university. Giles is supposed to be working on some sort of long distance thing with that coven he hangs out with in Devon, but the biggest collection of magic users in Sunnydale right now is the Council. Quentin wouldn't play ball unless I agreed to have a full time watcher again, submitting regular reports and making me train regularly and do assessments and stuff. I told him I'd settle for two part-time watchers, of my choosing, on full-time salary, to be paid retroactively.

I can understand if you don't want any more to do with him, but if I were you, I'd take that and cash it, send Quentin a couple of reports and then, if you still have a problem with it, you can hand in your notice. At the very least, play along until after the ritual to fumigate Cordelia."

With a sigh, Wes pulled out a stool and took a seat next to her and Spike took it as a signal that the discussion was over. He set a plate crammed with bacon, eggs and other fried stuff in front of Buffy and one at the empty space beside her before he called Dawn and returned to the cooker. "You had breakfast yet or not? I was going to take a plate up for Tinkerbell, but I can do her a fresh one."

* * * * *

The gathering was unconventional to say the least. Teenaged Wiccans rubbed shoulders with sombre-suited watchers in The Magic Box's training room. Several of the council members were watching the group in the corner with a range of emotions, of which the least hostile was suspicion. Angel glowered back, but Spike grinned and blew cigarette smoke toward them as if he hadn't a care in the world. Buffy leaned back against the vaulting horse, on which he was perched, his knees either side of her. Dawn sat next to him and glared daggers at anyone who dared even think less than friendly thoughts concerning her family. Fred stood next to Angel, perplexed by the whole atmosphere. "Don't they know you've got a soul now?"

Cordelia, who was no longer constantly glowing but still incorporeal, gave a rueful grimace. "They're watchers. It's sorta their job not to care." She leaned toward Buffy, whispering in the slayer's ear. "They don't know that I'm part demon," she stated before a little bit of doubt crept in. "Do they?"

"Why ever would we have wanted to mention that?" Buffy asked.

The door from the main shop opened yet again and most of the room looked over to see if it was the person they were waiting for. Instead, Giles gave Buffy a tentative smile and began to jostle his way towards them.

Buffy met him a little over half way, pulling Spike behind her. The slayer wrapped her arms around the grey-haired man, searching his face. "Are you okay?" she asked too quiet for any human other than him to hear.

"Surprisingly so. Which I think goes to prove that Olivia and I were right to split up..."

"Well, you can come over tonight and eat ice cream, anyway. I thought you were going to try some long distance spell casting thing?"

"One of the women came up with an alternative. Let's just say I didn't arrive by 747 and it's a good thing Anya shut the shop." A glance over Buffy's shoulder brought another smile to his face and the blonde couple made way for the new arrival. "Cordelia, I don't think I've seen you since graduation."

"Geez, Giles, I'm guessing when Buffy went off to college you quit training, huh?

I might have been tempted to see if that British reserve could cope with a hug, but it's not really possible, yet."

"So I hear. Did Wesley find any changes when he did the spell this morning?"

"Apparently, I'm slightly less ghosty this morning, but other than the glowing not being all the time, it's not like it's exactly noticeable. He said the thing might have grown slightly, or it could just be in a different position. The good news is it's still not dug in. He's not going to take part in the ritual, so that he has the power to check again at the end to see whether it's all gone."

"Are you going to be alright with this?"

Cordelia gave a snort. "In comparison to being possessed by an evil demi-god thing or having my head chopped off? I'll cope."

"Tara?" the watcher inquired, looking round for the Wiccan.

"Exam." Buffy shrugged. "It's not like she doesn't think it's important, but she can hardly afford to take the course again either. She finishes at half past twelve and she's coming straight here, but I'm thinking that we should have enough power to do the ritual without her."

Giles scanned the room. "Yes, I rather suspect, you do. At least, you will once Willow makes it here. Is that that awful woman, who came with Quentin last time, talking to Wesley?"

"Yes, but maybe not so awful."

Xander's inane babbling sounded unfeasibly loud as the room quieted. The carpenter froze in the middle of the doorway that led to the alley with a feeling of paranoia, but everyone's attention was focused on the woman he was with, rather than him. Some of the Wiccans had seen or heard of her brief appearances on campus. None of Quentin's entourage had expected anything other than a twenty-one year old. Their shocked silence was immediately followed by a burble of mutterings.

Travers made his way toward Buffy, with an expression of consternation on his face. "You never mentioned that your friend was... impaired. This casts a whole different light on the matter."

"She's not impaired. She's old. I've seen nothing to suggest that it affects her magical abilities, and it's not as if all your people are under forty, either. Perhaps you would rather call our deal off?"

Travers gaze travelled up and down, checking not the slayer's figure but her body language, looking for a sign as to whether she was bluffing, but in truth Buffy would almost have been glad if the council backed out. She would be free of any obligation to them, her friend would be saved from her own rash judgement and no one would be able to say that she hadn't tried.

Finally, the watcher refused the chance to back out. "No, I think we would be remiss in our duty if we weren't to attempt to free this poor girl from her infliction."

"Most remiss," Willow drawled from just behind him. "And, Cordelia, I can't help but think if you had told someone back in first grade that you were possessed it would have saved us all from twelve years of misunderstandings. You see, we all just thought you were a total bitch."

Chapter 2.02
Monday, May 27th, 2002

The Wiccans, Fred, and the watchers formed a slightly staggered double circle, so that those in the outer ring kneeled immediately behind the gap between the shoulders of those nearest them in the inner circle. Willow stood at the centre of the group and Cordelia kneeled before her. Anya, Xander and Buffy were positioned outside the circle, each with a stack of cue cards from which the spell casters were required to read. Wes, Dawn and the vampires looked on from the far end of the room, while Quentin watched from beside the door into the main shop.

En masse the spell casters lit the incense sticks positioned before them and vowed for the duration of the working to put their power at Willow's disposal. Then, one by one, Willow accepted their gifts, starting with the Wiccan who had been directly opposite her and moving on clockwise around the circle. As she did so a link was formed between her and the donor, a flickering cord of electricity that connected her upper torso to that of the other person, the first few dazzling threads passing over Cordelia's head. Each was different, some of the Wiccans' and, more surprisingly, one or two of the watchers', including Lydia's, were pure white. Some were tinged with green or blue or violet or gold. Some of the watchers' were angry red or turbulent orange. For some the connection was thin almost like a shimmering piece of string, and for others it was as thick as their arm.

By the time she was linked with a quarter of those in the circle, streams of magical energy flowing toward her as if she were a thaumaturgical maypole, Willow's face and extremities had a pale incandescence. Buffy tried to convince herself that the witch was not ageing before her eyes, but she knew that her one-time friend was drunk on the power she was receiving. The slayer's eyes sought out those of her fiancé, not entirely surprised to find his attention was already on her rather than the proceedings. He gave her a gentle smile and tried to offer her reassurance from across the room.

Suddenly, the atmosphere brightened by a factor of four. Buffy shielded her eyes to see what had brought about the change. Giles' whole upper body was doused in a brilliant luminescence. Instead of one magical thread coming from his body it was as if there was a vast crackling, pastel, multi-hued rope, woven from innumerable strands. The watcher carried with him the power of the whole Devon coven, each woman having willed to him such energy as she could.

For half a minute Willow seemed to ride an euphoric high, her entire body trembling before she moved on to the next person in the circle. This time, Buffy was almost certain that Willow looked older, beneath the golden glow that now illuminated her whole body. It wasn't something the slayer often did, being more accustomed to self-reliance, and it seemed almost inappropriate, surrounded as she was by the trappings of witchcraft, but Buffy found herself silently praying that somehow they could all get through this without losing anyone.

* * * * *

Xander couldn't take his eyes from Willow's face. He had so many memories, Willow teasing him, Willow kissing him, Willow crying because their fourth grade teacher gave her a B and she didn't want to give her mom her report card, Willow trying to make him feel better after his eighth birthday party, Willow in footie pyjamas... Every one of those memories seemed to overlie the scene before them, but the innocence that had shone from those eyes was gone.

For the first time he realised that the changes in Willow over the last year weren't just some surface veneer over the same familiar beloved woman, but they went through to her very core.

For the first time he saw her magic as a barrier between them. He had always thought that regardless of what came to pass he would be there for her, protecting her as if she were his little sister. As he watched her swallow the power from those around her, exulting in the rush, he knew she would never need him again. The one thing he had never protected her from, that which until now he'd been unable to either see or acknowledge, the darker side of her own nature.

For the first time he realised that the girl he had grown up loving wasn't just more intelligent or from a better area of town, she might as well belong on a separate evolutionary scale. He found himself wondering if she even recognised any of them, if she was aware of them as people, or if all she knew was the rush of power.

For the first time he understood why Buffy had wanted Willow out of her home, how she could be afraid of her. He watched her long after everyone else shielded their eyes from the glare, the image of her face burned into his retinas.

Still he wished that he could just take her into his arms like he always had and hold her until the nightmare was over and his Willow came back.

* * * * *

Even as she completed the circle Willow was dimly aware of the thickening of her body and limbs, but buoyed in a sea of borrowed power she couldn't bring herself to care. The rollercoaster high she was experiencing beat any of Rack's merry go round rides hands down, and she'd had a few of those this last week. Magic wasn't meant to be hoarded and used only in dribs and drabs to further some greater good. Magic was a force, a magnificent lover which made every inch of your skin tingle and which exulted in its freedom.

She savoured the essence of every person in the circle. Giles was so sweet, the magic he brought as refreshing as cool spring water and rooted in the ancient traditions of mother earth. The old guy was so proper he would probably have a heart attack if he had realised that she'd come at the unexpected rush when she 'touched' him. Her whole body was a blaze of blinding light. All this, and she had yet to syphon any power through the bonds she had created...

She reached out a hand toward Cordelia. This time she leeched energy from all those surrounding her and forced it out into the other woman. Energy flowed out from her palm to Cordelia's head. Riding the wave of power to search out the presence which she wished to dispel, she had about a second before the other, as she thought of it, became aware of her. Her magic burned and damaged it before it could react, but when it did, Willow suddenly realised that this was not going to be the funfair ride she had anticipated.

An entity, worshipped as a god before humans walked the earth, stirred and brought its wrath to bear on the witch who dared try to harm it. Pain seared through Willow's every nerve ending and she was forced to draw more energy from those around her to try to push back the other before it claimed her as well as Cordelia. There was part of her which instinctively wanted to simply sever the link between herself and Cordelia but her pride wouldn't let her. To concede defeat in front of everyone she knew, to confirm Giles' assesment of her abilities, was unthinkable. Instead, she drew ever more power from the circle of spell casters until the other was forced back to the confines of Cordelia's body. She drew in the mages' energy until she felt that her very soul would be scorched by its intensity.

It was almost a stalemate. The emerald glow of the other's magic flowed up the bond between Willow and Cordelia, meeting the pale orange gold of the casters' combined energy. Neither was winning and neither showed any obvious signs of tiring, but Willow knew that the curse was taking its toll, punishing her for her arrogance and pride. If she didn't do something soon it would exact the ultimate price.

Willow's other hand reached out, and Spike threw himself into the path between her and her intended target. He showed the witch his back even as he enfolded Dawn in his arms. The energy that flowed from the vampire surprised the witch with its purity until she realised it wasn't his own energy but that of the orbs protecting him that she drew upon. With a further burst of will, her magic linked the vampire and the key, drawing Dawn's beautiful green energy through Spike to twine with the violet of that from the orbs.

From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of movement that told her Buffy was moving to aid her sister and the vampire, though why she wasn't too dazzled to see what was happening the witch had no idea. With a negligent flick of a finger, she thickened the air around the slayer until it was like tar and then did likewise with the air around Wes and the other Scoobies. She was willing to bet that Angel was more interested in getting Cordelia back than in how it was done and if he did look like he was going to interfere she could contain him just as easily.

The stolen power burned both the witch and the other with its purity, one literally, the other with condemnation of what she had become.

For the first time Willow gained the upper hand, forcing the other to recoil. It seemed to shrink away shrivelling in on itself and, though Willow bore the guilt of the rape she had perpetrated on the key and her demon guardian, she knew in time the battle would be won.

* * * * *

Neither the girl nor the vampire had made the vow to give over their power and both spasmed as the energy passed through them, Spike's eyes turning to demon gold. His hand twitched uncontrollably and every movement was made with gritted teeth as he forced himself to overcome the magically induced fit. He drew his hand away from Dawn's back. Reaching between them, he used a taloned finger to slice through first one loop on the pouch holding the orbs, and then the other, pulling it from his belt and pushing it into Dawn's hand before he realised that in the minutes he had taken to complete his actions the girl had fallen unconscious and was unable to take them from him. His eyes looked the girl up and down, taking in her skin-tight jeans and long-sleeved t-shirt with fresh distaste. He pushed his hand upward until he could tuck the pouch with the orbs inside the neckline of Dawn's top.

In a last desperate move before the protection of the orbs was lost to him, he thrust the girl away from him, hoping to break the magical tie between them, but as Dawn's body, robbed of his support, fell to the floor, the roiling energy continued to pass from her through him to the witch. Nevertheless, the vampire noted with satisfaction before he, too, lost consciousness that the link between them now sparked with violet energy rather than green.

* * * * *

Just as the battle was won, the vampire handed her defeat from the jaws of victory. The energy of the key, which had done so much to weaken the other was replaced by the darkly supernatural energy of the vampire himself.

The witch hesitated. With the hostile presence inside Cordelia already weakened, one massive surge of power should be enough to drive it out and disperse it. Otherwise, even with the energy she drew from the orbs it would grow again.

She knew she couldn't walk away, and this time it wasn't to do with pride or proving herself or anything similar. This time she did it to safeguard, not just Cordelia, but everyone from the evil she had sensed inside the other as they had fought. It occurred to her that perhaps this wasn't quite her decision, that somehow the energy from the key or from the orbs had to some extent overridden her own will, but she welcomed it. It was as if the troubles and responsibilities of the last year fell away and she was free to indulge once more in a naïve innocence. With an effort of will she drew the magic into herself until she felt her skin burn and her insides begin to cook and then she directed the power in one overwhelming wave toward the presence inside Cordelia, smashing it into nothingness.

SECTION 3 - MY LAST BREATH

Hold on to me love
You know I can't stay long
All I wanted to say was
I love you and I'm not afraid

(Evanescence - Album - Fallen)

Chapter 3.01
Monday, May 27th, 2002

More than a day had passed since Skip had been imprisoned. The demon was unsurprised that the barrier around him seemed to be weakening. The innermost part of the double barrier, which had barely allowed him standing room, was long gone, but as Wes had conceded it was basically a parlour trick and not much more. The outer wall of his cell had proved rather more durable, but even so it was finally weakening. The demon turned his back to his guard, and lay down as if to sleep. Instead he bit down on his tongue until he could taste the green viscous liquid, which in his case passed for blood. Using his body as a screen, he took the blood and a finger and began to daub mystical symbols on the wall of his magical prison.

* * * * *

Tara climbed out of the passenger side of the open-topped sports car after picking up Rupert from her lap and re-depositing him on the sidewalk.

"Thanks," she told Bee as she passed over the end of the cat's leash.

"No biggie," the smaller woman demurred. "I kinda want to see if it all worked out, anyway, but it's not as if I really wanted to be around the watcher horde any longer than I have to be. It's bad enough that Wes has rejoined the fold... but, if I really believed that, you wouldn't see me for dust."

"Have you heard anything?"

Bee shook her head. "Not so far... but the shop's still there, so that's a good sign."

* * * * *

Xander shook his head, hoping it would allow him to make sense of what had just gone down. He only had the vaguest idea what had been happening towards the end of the ritual. Willow had been lit up like a lighthouse lantern, so bright that, even though he had tried, he had been unable to watch. He did know that when the light show had so abruptly stopped, there had been some sort of massive detonation, blowing everyone in the room off their feet. He called out for Anya first of all, relieved beyond measure when he saw her push herself up off the ground and make her way over to him.

At first he thought they were the only ones moving and then he saw Quentin Travers making his way over to the nearest of the watchers, pulling back an eyelid and then checking the man's pulse. Angel had somehow circumvented the scattered bodies, but then he had experience with that, to make his way over to Cordelia. His efforts to take the apparently unconscious, but still incorporeal woman into his arms would have been hilarious, if not for the slumped form beside her.

"Willow..." Xander didn't know what to think as he looked at the blackened flesh and suddenly he was sickened by the smell in the air that up until that point had been propagating a desire for a BLT. He held Anya's hand in a death grip as he picked his way through the gradually stirring piles of bodies. Unbelievably, when he was still a few feet away he saw the barest flicker of a charred eyelid and the blackening seemed to fade very slowly away. Starting at her roots, colour and lustre returned to her hair, not the brilliant auburn she sometimes sported, but the darker, slightly reddish brown it had been before Buffy came to town. He delicately picked a spot where there was enough space for him to kneel down next to her and finally relinquished Anya's hand so that he could take her in his arms.

She coughed and tried to smile, but even though Xander could see the years that had been added by the curse slowly but inexorably falling away, she couldn't seem to raise herself up at all to help him. More and more people were beginning to move and he searched the room trying to pick out any of the other Scoobies, but as more people got to their feet and began their own dazed searches for loved ones, they were nowhere to be seen and he began to panic.

"Buffy?" he called. "Buff."

A familiar cool English voice answered him. "She hasn't come around, yet."

"Wes? But she's-."

"She's still unconscious, as are Spike and Dawn, but the girls' pulses are strong and Spike isn't dust so I don't think there's any need for further alarm just yet." The watcher's voice was firm, making it plain that the subject was not up for further discussion at present.

"Willow's hurt... She's hurt real bad."

He couldn't make out Willow's response to the remark and he had to ask her to repeat it, his ear close to her mouth.

"Not hurt. Dying."

"No, Will! It doesn't work like that." A frustrated tear crept from the corner of one eye. He'd been wishing so hard that something would happen so that he could have the old Will back, but the price was just too high. It wasn't meant to happen like that. "Ahn, honey, find Giles... He'll fix it. He'll..."

His train of thought was interrupted by a quiet knock on the shop's back door. "Oh, Christ," he muttered under his breath. "Not now. Whoever that is we don't want any..."

"I'm here, Xander." The older watcher's voice stilled the carpenter's panic for a second as Anya moved to get the door. "Though I have to tell you that there's little or nothing I can do that you haven't already done, except call an ambulance."

All around them, people were back on their feet. Only five figures still lay on the ground.

* * * * *

Anya's face told Tara all that she needed to know even before the former demon stepped aside to reveal the devastation inside. "Willow?" the Wiccan asked, her voice coming out as a hesitant whisper.

Anya nodded toward the centre of the room, where Xander rocked gently back and forth with the woman's head in his lap. Tara pushed her way through the watchers and Wiccans who were milling around and then through those whose morbid curiosity or watcherly instincts made them surround the scene.

"Willow?" Her voice was like a soft caress as she sank to the floor next to Xander.

"Tara, baby? You came..." The words were obviously a strain and the witch began coughing.

"Don't talk, sweetie. I came. It'll be alright. Just hang in there until we can get some help."

"Have to talk... Dawnie and Spike?"

The blonde looked to Xander for information.

"Wes says they're okay. Still unconscious but okay."

* * * * *

Giles' authoritative voice cut through the room as he returned from the main shop. "There is an ambulance on its way. Would those of you not requiring medical attention and/or immediately connected with those who are injured kindly stop lollygagging and vacate the premises by the rear exit so that the medics can get in when they get here?" The watcher made shooing gestures as he moved back toward Willow. "That includes you and your note takers, Quentin. I'm sure that, between us, Wesley and I can come up with a report after the fact."

"That could be what I'm worried about." For an instant the older man hesitated, but he was too well acquainted with the violent impulses that hid beneath Giles' civilised veneer and soon he ushered the last of his contingent toward the door.

Giles spotted Bee as she made her way to the exit with the other Rupert in tow, and, inclining his head to one side, he beckoned her back. It was true that the woman was not one of their intimate circle, but she seemed more at home with magical theory than most of the Council, even if she had no talent for its implementation.

Returning his voice to a more conversational level he hailed the other remaining watcher. "Wesley, perhaps you could give me a hand to carry Spike down to the cellar before the paramedics arrive. I'm sure he wouldn't appreciate a Y incision in the middle of his chest, and while the coroners are probably used to an occasional victim getting up and walking away I think it might be more pleasant all around if we avoid the problem.

Angel, I suggest unless you want some awkward explaining to do, that you move those packing crates in the corner until they mask Cordelia's aura. Bee, if you could give him a hand for now?" He gave his best approximation of a pleading glance. "Once everything is in place for the paramedics' arrival we can discuss what exactly happened here and whether it worked."

* * * * *

"They're okay?" Willow

"It looks that way, in time. Honey, do you know why they're not coming round?"

"I took their power... without the handover. It was winning and I thought 'Dawn's made of energy'. Then, Spike got in the way."

Xander shook his head. "He would. Look if Spike interfered and he's suffering for it, then good. You've got better things to worry about than that freak. Does anybody know why Buffy's out of it, though?"

Tara waited until Xander glanced her way and gently shook her head and raised a finger to her lips. "It's okay, sweetie," she told the errant witch. "They'll forgive you. They'll be okay and they'll forgive you. Just stay with us... The ambulance will be here in a minute."

"No difference," Willow whispered. "There's always a price."

"No, sweetie, you have to hang in with us. Just a bit longer and they'll be here."

"It's okay. I chose this. That thing... It wouldn't just have taken over Cordelia... It would have been bad... Glory-bad... I'm okay with it."

"Willow..." The blonde reached out to stroke the woman's pale, but youthful face. "I knew you chose to pay the price as soon as I saw the curse had reversed. You had to have made a huge sacrifice, but that doesn't mean you have to die. They're on their way. They'll take care of you. Maybe it'll take you a few months but you'll get better."

Willow's eyes met hers, serene and sure. "Sooner or later, I'd give in to temptation. I couldn't have done this without the energy of the key or the orbs. What I took from Spike and Dawn... It made me feel dirty. Made me see what I'd been doing, what I was becoming. You know it. I know it. This way..." She paused as she was overcome by another coughing fit. "This way, I won't let you down again."

Tara wished she could find a way to argue with her, a way to make her stay but she couldn't lie. Willow had never been strong willed. She had a habit of choosing the easiest path. Slow tears trickled down the blonde's cheeks as the EMTs pushed their way through the doors at the rear of the shop.

* * * * *

"Are you Miss Rosenberg's family?" The doctor looked over the dishevelled group that seemed almost lost in the large ER waiting room.

Giles stepped forward, still somehow forced into playing the adult, just as when Buffy's mother had died. "Tara is her partner. We haven't been able to contact her parents, yet. Xander, Anya and I are friends." The watcher told the white lie which he hoped would allow the doctor to tell them what was happening. Even if Tara and Willow had still been living together the doctors wouldn't have been under any obligation to tell her anything. Without a marriage certificate they still weren't family in any legal sense, but Giles was hoping that this particular doctor wasn't going to split hairs or ask for proof.

The doctor turned to the red-eyed girl. "I'm sorry. As you already know, Miss Rosenberg stopped breathing in the ambulance. Despite our best attempts, we've been unable to revive her. I'm afraid she's passed away."

Chapter 3.02
Monday, May 27th, 2002

"What the hell do you mean she passed away?" Anya kept a hold of Xander's hand as he took a step toward the doctor, pulling him up before he could get in the man's face, but Xander barely noticed. "What the hell kind of hospital is this? She was fine when they put her in the ambulance. She was awake. She was talking to us."

Giles positioned himself between the younger man and the physician. "Xander, I'm sure the doctors did everything they could."

"Yeah? Then why does everybody that comes in here die?"

The doctor cleared his throat. "From what we were able to see, Miss Rosenberg's trachea was badly scorched, and you mentioned some sort of explosion. It seems likely that she inhaled some hot air which scorched her throat and her lungs. There were also indications that there was some sort of internal bleeding probably due to the concussive effect of the blast. The fact that she survived so long as she did was a measure of her determination but it was a battle that ultimately she could not sustain."

"That's-."

"Xander!" Surprisingly, it was Tara's voice which cut across whatever the brunette's next tirade had been going to be. "Willow is gone and creating a scene is not going to change that." She turned to the physician. "Her family are Jewish. By tradition someone should remain with her from now until she is buried. Will there need to be an autopsy?"

"What are you talking about?" Xander interrupted. "Willow has never been into all that. I mean she went along with it to please her dad but you know-."

Giles shook his head disapprovingly. "Willow is dead and what happens to her earthly remains is probably not of great concern to her except that to diverge from Jewish tradition would cause her family additional distress. I don't believe she would have wanted that."

"She wanted it this way. Perhaps, if she had survived her parents, it might have been different but not as things are," Tara confirmed before returning to the physician. "Can I sit with her until her parents can be contacted? Her mother should be back from lunch soon but she shouldn't be alone."

"I'm sure that something can be arranged." The doctor ushered her toward the door through to the ER. "You asked about an autopsy? In light of her family's likely religious objections and given there's no evidence of foul play I suspect that the autopsy will be waived. The coroner may need to take a blood sample to do a tox screen as a formality, but we can discuss that with her parents and their rabbi when we can reach them."

"Thank you."

Just before she and the doctor disappeared Giles spoke one last time. "I'm going to try driving over to Willow's mother's office. As you say, she should be back soon and I think perhaps the news may be best broken face to face. When I come back I'll check in on you, okay?" He gave the girl a reassuring smile.

"Sure." With a gentle nod the girl disappeared after the doctor into the emergency treatment area.

* * * * *

"Buffy?" Wes turned to face the bed occupied by the elder of the two Summers girls when he heard movement.

Buffy's eyelids fluttered for a second and then she managed to keep them open. "Wes? Where's Spike?"

"So far as I know he's still at the magic shop, but Fred promised to tell him where you were if he came 'round so it's entirely possible that he might be on his way here already."

"Dawnie?"

"Next bed over. She's still unconscious, I'm afraid."

"Is she going to be okay?"

"The doctors haven't been able to find anything wrong with her. I suspect she'll come 'round in her own good time, but the longer she stays out the worse it looks... but then I suppose you know more about what she's going through than I do."

"Willow..." Anger gave the slayer more animation than she had managed so far. "She tried to use Dawn like some sort of human battery. If Spike hadn't given her the orbs Willow would have sucked the life right out of her. What on earth did she think she was doing?"

"She was fighting a battle with a god," Wes responded in a calming tone. "A battle she won, but in which she ultimately gave her own life."

"W-Will... dead?"

"She survived the ritual, but she died before she reached the hospital. By the time Giles was able to contact her mother there was only just time to arrange for her burial today."

"Today? How? I mean what about all the arrangements... picking a casket... flowers... everything?"

"Jewish tradition dictates wherever possible that burial happens on the day of death. Normally, the coffin would be plain pine, though technically any wooden coffin is acceptable. The ceremony is supposed to be as simple as possible so flowers are considered inappropriate. Most of the arrangements would be taken care of by the Chevra Kadisha, the morticians."

"When?"

"About two hours from now."

Buffy looked over at her sister's bed, her eyes welling up with tears as she remembered not the recent arguments that had separated her and Willow, but the years of friendship they had shared. "B-But I can't leave Dawnie, not until I know she's okay."

"No one would expect you to. There's a period of mourning after the funeral. I'm sure you'll be able to pay your respects then."

"Wes, can you call the shop and check on Spike? Please?"

A woman's voice came from the doorway as Bee came in, a cup of vending machine coffee in either hand. "I'll do that, if you want," she offered, passing one of the cups to Wes and then holding the other out for Buffy. "You look like you need a shoulder to lean on and I think the boss, there, would do a better job of filling in for Spike than I can."

"Perhaps on your way past the desk you could let one of the nurses know that Buffy's conscious now?" Wes suggested.

The small woman gave a half-smile. "Sure."

* * * * *

Spike fought for consciousness, his mate's grief acting as a goad to bring him from his sleep. His chest hitched as he tried to draw his first waking breath, but the weight on his rib cage made it more difficult than it should have been. His eyelids opened and blue eyes stared into bluer.

The vampire raised a lead-like arm and pushed the Siamese off his torso. "Bugger off, ya stupid, cross-eyed excuse for a moggie."

"Rowwr." The cat seemed to protest his intelligence, his pedigree and his perfect vision.

It took Spike a while to figure out where he was, but even longer to make his way upstairs from the basement on unresponsive limbs. He wasn't too surprised to find Angel, Cordelia and Fred still there when he got upstairs. and he didn't waste any time on pleasantries.

"Where's Dawn? What happened to her?"

Angel rolled his eyes, but he knew better than to provoke the blond unnecessarily in his present mood. "Dawn and Buffy were taken to the hospital along with Willow. Fred's talking to that girl who works for Wes now."

Spike did his best to stride over and grab the phone from Fred's grasp, but it was more like an arthritic shuffle and then accepting the handset as Fred passed it to him. "Who's dead?" he barked.

"Willow didn't make it to the hospital." Again, it was Angel who answered his question.

"Dawn?" This time his voice was more of a croak.

Bee's voice sounded hollow over the phone line. "She was still unconscious last time I was upstairs, but Buffy only just came round so maybe in a bit... Buffy was asking for you."

"Tell her I'll be there in ten minutes to-."

"It might take you a little longer than that, " Angel cut in. The older vampire picked up the pouch that held the orbs from the floor near the sofa where Cordelia was lying, apparently only just conscious. He held them in his hand and then moved until the sunlight from the high windows touched his skin.

As Spike watched, Angel's fingers began to smoke.

"She drained them dry?"

"Flat as a car battery when you leave the headlights on all night." Angel tossed the pouch underhand to the other vampire who only just caught them. "...And Giles borrowed your car to take Willow's ex home to get changed and then to the funeral."

He felt no surge of strength, and belatedly he realised that when Angel had picked them up there had been no telltale light show. Sticking the useless globes into his coat pocket, he returned to his telephone conversation. "Tell her I'll be there as soon as I can." Spike turned on his heel and headed back to the store's basement. He'd just have to do it the old-fashioned way.

Chapter 3.03
Monday, May 27th, 2002

Skip tested the barrier once more. As he had suspected, it was now weakened sufficiently for him to be able to push his hand through it with little resistance. He rolled over as if simply shifting in his sleep, but in actuality his new position allowed him to watch his captors through barely open eyes, awaiting the opportune moment.

He had hoped that at some point they would leave him alone with Lorne, but he wasn't quite that lucky. Instead, he took his chance when Connor left the hotel to fetch lunch for its occupants, leaving him unattended except for Gunn.

The street fighter's axe blows were deflected by Skip's natural armour and the momentum of the axe seemed to work against the man as he tried to square up against his much larger opponent. Skip's fist sent him flying backward before he could regain his balance, the axe sliding off Skip's shoulder and dragging Gunn's arms down and to the left instead of being stopped by muscle and bone. Skip heard the satisfying crack of ribs as Gunn hit the wall and a fraction of a second later it was followed by the even more edifying sound of his skull impacting with the solid 1920's architecture as whiplash drove it back.

The demon took a few steps toward where the man slumped like a marionette with its strings cut before he reconsidered. 'Like some twenty-something Sabrina's going to be able to get rid of the boss... And she might get kinda grouchy if I start killing off all the people she worked on bringing together.'

With a few simple gestures the mercenary opened up a portal to another plane and stepped through.

* * * * *

"You look like death." Buffy tried to raise a fraction of a teasing smile to accompany her remark as Spike pushed his way into the shaded room, but her eyes were bright with unshed tears.

The vampire's eyes latched in horror onto the empty bed next to the slayer. "Niblet?"

"It's okay, sweetie. They took her away to do a catscan... to see if they could find any sort of physical reason why she might not have come round yet."

Wes couldn't help but almost smile when the vampire was obviously too worried to even realise what the slayer had called him. "I think now that Spike's arrived that Bee and I are surplus to requirements. We'll get out of your way."

"Are you going to go to the funeral?" Buffy's voice lacked its habitual surety.

Wes looked at his watch. "I think I should be able to make it."

"Will you tell Tara and her parents that we're sorry and that we would have been there if it hadn't meant leaving Dawn?"

"An' look after Tinkerbell for us if the boy isn't up to it?" Spike added.

Wes gave them a single nod and a reassuring half smile. "Consider it done." With that, he held the door open for Bee and then followed her out.

Spike closed the remaining distance between him and his mate, his arms wrapping around her as she leaned her upper body into him. He rained soft kisses on her face as she clung to him, her grief washing through him even more strongly in the instant that they touched than it had when it woke him or as it had seemed to intensify while he had traversed the underground tunnels to make his way to her. All he could do was to be there for her, his emotional strength protecting her even as his physical strength had been drained from him. Her tears finally fell, gently at first and then great racking sobs that could only be sustained for so long before she fell silent once more. Somewhere in the midst of it all, Spike crawled on top of her and then rolled them onto their sides so that he could wrap her against him more effectively.

They didn't need words. In times like these words are simply a way to express your feelings and there was no emotion that slayer or vampire experienced that the other didn't instantly know. Cheek to cheek, the vampire's tears mingled with her own and she knew that he was sad in the most part for the simple reason that she was... because that was how things work when you're in love with someone. You share their grief and their sadness and in doing so, you take a small part of their burden from them.

Spike offered her everything that he was and it was everything she needed. He shared her sorrow, her anger at the witch for leaving them and for hurting Dawn and the man who had come to mean so much to her and her guilt that, as yet, she was unable to grant forgiveness for Willow's actions and she wouldn't be able to do so until she knew that her loved ones were going to fully recover. He shared her regret that the women had drifted apart since they had moved on to college and her worry that, had Willow not felt compelled to use magic to "keep up" with her supernaturally gifted friend, then she would still be alive, well and happy.

When the hospital staff rolled Dawn's gurney back into the room they lay asleep in each other's arms.

Chapter 3.04
Monday, May 27th, 2002

For Xander, the funeral service passed by in a haze, the rituals and customs seeming alien and unreal. It was the first time he had ever seen Willow's father seem anything but composed. His five o'clock stubble seemed to show a lack of respect that was belied by the slow constant stream of tears on his cheeks. Her mother's face was puffy from crying and she had panda eyes. It looked as if she hadn't even washed off the make up she had worn that morning but simply left it to run down her face. Xander couldn't remember Mr Rosenberg ever wearing anything other than leather brogues outside the house, but for his own daughter's funeral he wore canvas deck shoes. When the rabbi ripped the left sleeve of her father's and her mother's clothes, that seemed to make a perverse sense, appealing not only because his own anger urged him to destroy something, but because it felt to him as if a part of him was missing.

The plain pine box with its lid hammered shut offered no stately resting place, no chance to pay your last respects, to tell yourself how peaceful she looked as if that somehow proved that she was in a better place rather than simply prepared by a skilled mortician. Instead she was nailed up tight in a plain claustrophobic wooden box little better than a packing crate.

So while for her family, and even for Giles, Tara, Anya and Wes who seemed to understand the intent behind the ceremony and in some cases even the Hebrew prayers, the rituals brought comfort and a sense of closure, for Xander they seemed only to add to his sense of unreality. He couldn't help looking round in case Willow had sneaked up behind him somehow and was just waiting for the moment of maximum effect to tap him on the shoulder and say, "Gotcha." He shivered despite the summer heat and wondered if maybe he was in shock.

How was it, he wondered, that he should be so lost in a situation where everyone else seemed to know what was happening. Anya had squeezed his hand and asked him where he thought an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth came from, as if it was obvious that a former vengeance demon would be familiar with Jewish funereal customs. Tara seemed to have discussed all this with Willow in some detail, which he supposed made sense as, until their split last year, the blonde had been listed as Willow's next of kin. Watchers... they just knew all that sort of stuff anyway. Xander hadn't a clue what was going on. He'd never discussed any of this with her. Even before she went the Wiccan way, Willow had always just been Willow, not Willow, the Jewish girl. Her faith or lack of it had never been a topic of discussion, except to commiserate on the whole missing out on Christmas deal. Okay, so she had had Hanukkah, but Xander couldn't even say that he knew what that was. It was just a name to him. Maybe, if one of her grandparents had died while she was growing up, they might have talked about it, but the ones that weren't dead before she was born were over in the front row looking like death warmed up.

Xander just let the whole thing pass him by in a blur, still not quite able to accept that she was really gone. After all, she had brought Buffy back to life and this was death by magic, not a natural death... She would come back... somehow. She had to. Xander didn't know how to live without her.

* * * * *

"I don't know how you can all be so calm." Xander took a swig from his glass of bourbon before slamming it down on the glass topped table and fixing his gaze on Tara who sat on the floor of his and Anya's apartment with her back against the L-shaped sofa where Wes and Giles sat on either side of her. "You heard what she said. She's dead because Spike interfered. If he hadn't got in the way Willow would still be alive."

"Possibly..." the Wiccan admitted.

"Possibly? He-."

"Willow might have managed to complete the spell without making any sort of sacrifice on her own part, it's possible, but if Spike hadn't stopped her I'm pretty sure she would have killed Dawn in the process. Willow might have still been walking around if the curse hadn't aged her to death for taking a human life but she would have been more lost to us than ever."

"Willow wouldn't kill Dawn... She wouldn't." Xander's protests were weak though, as he remembered the exultant look on Willow's face earlier.

Tara didn't bother to argue the point when it would serve no purpose. "Xander, you've got to understand that I didn't lose Willow today, she got lost a long time ago. Today, just for five minutes, I got back the girl I fell in love with and even though I will miss her I believe that everything worked out as it had to and I will treasure the memory of that five minutes for the rest of my life."

Anya came back through from the kitchen and took a seat next to her husband at the table, dropping a family size bag of cheese doodles in front of him and tossing a bag of Doritos in the direction of the threesome by the sofa. "Let me. I can do Xander-speak. Willow was already well on her way to Vaderdom. If Spike hadn't got between her and Dawn, then sucking the life out of her would almost certainly have tipped the balance. So now she's dead but she died a Skywalker. It took that sort of sacrifice to redeem her, though. So you tell me, Xander, what would you have chosen? Live Darth Willow or dead Anakin Rosenberg?"

Xander took another sip of his drink and didn't answer out loud, but he remembered his wish that he could have his Willow back and it sent a lance of guilt straight through his heart.

* * * * *

Spike's fingers tightened around Buffy's wrists and he strained to pull them apart. He whispered in her ear, hoping it would do more good than his show of strength, which was having little impact. "Let go, baby. This isn't what happened. You're not to blame. Let her go. You never hurt her. She chose her own path. Honey, if it wasn't for you, she'd have been vamp food long ago. Let it go."

Buffy's grip on Willow's neck didn't loosen. She held the long-haired geekish teenager with her checked pinafore dress and thick wool tights up off the ground until her face turned purple. "I did. It was me. You know there wasn't even a hellmouth here until I arrived or it wasn't active or something. Either way the trouble only started when I arrived."

"You arrived here because here is where you were needed. You're not some jinx and you didn't kill Red. I told Pixie an' I'm telling you Red's parents laid the groundwork that made her who she became. Soon as she got a whiff of any sorta power she was gonna go crazy. Now, let her go, sweetness."

Finally, finger by finger, he managed to pry Buffy's hands from her friend's throat. "We make our own destinies, my love. Sometimes we get a little help. Sometimes there aren't any good choices but there are always choices and she made the ones that brought her to where she ended up. Not you."

"You said she would do it. Bee said it would kill her and you said she would do it. We could have just not said anything, not told her."

"We could have... But do you really think Angelpants woulda given up on his lady without even asking? And we're not in the business of playing God. You think if we'd all kept quiet you wouldn't be dreamin' about the cheerleader instead?"

"But Cordelia wasn't my friend... at least, not like Will was."

"Red was your friend, but somewhere along the way she forgot the meaning of the word, else she wouldn't have hurt Bit. She definitely wouldn't have done it twice over. You can't be responsible for everything that happens."

"Isn't that what it means to be the slayer? To be responsible for protecting them all."

"You can't protect someone who doesn't want your protection, baby. She made you choose between her and Dawn. She forced your hand. Being the slayer is like being a general in a war and today your side won a huge battle. You took down a god, but it didn't come free. You lost someone who used to be your friend, but if you take that weight on your shoulders you deny what she did in the end. If you take responsibility for her death then you take away from her the credit for the good she did. She won that battle and she chose to give it everything she had. She gave her life and at the end she did the right thing... in the wrong way... but it was her choice."

Buffy sagged against him. "Why is it when you're making the sense that's not that I understand what you're saying?"

"Because you've been listening to men that you've driven to babbling incoherence ever since you hit puberty?" Spike suggested, his arms wrapping her round and holding her close.

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