It is the poems we have lost, the ills
From missing dates at which the heart expires.
Missing Dates, William Empson
As you may have realized, Giles, I am only going along with this for Buffy's sake. Your burblings about a higher calling notwithstanding, I have less than zero interest in adding to the sum of human knowledge, or being a busy little Watcher-helper bee, or anything ridiculous like that. But I do see your point that Buffy may have come out of all this changed and you ought to know everything that happened. Fine. But one hint of a smirk, Watcher – one hint! – and I am out of here.
Turns out, all the while I was patrolling with them and being all helpful-like, they were coming to the conclusion that Buffy was trapped in a hell dimension and thinking of ways to get her out. Grief must have made me stupid; I can't think of any other reason I didn't notice the conspiratorial sneaking around that was apparently taking place right in front of my nose.
And if you are now thinking that eventually reason was seen and brakes were applied, well, that only happened because Dawn found out about their little scheme and demanded to know what on earth made them think Buffy's in hell. Now, when I can bring myself to be fair to them (which is never), I can see that they assumed she just went into Glory's dimension. Hence, hell. But, as Dawn asked, would it have killed them to make sure?
Thus confronted, they did a locator spell, the kind that Willow says is like trying to hit a puppy by flinging bees at it. Roped me in as well. I guess they figured Dawn would tell me anyway.
There are no maps of what we needed the spell to check, so Willow did what she called a notional representation of the dimensional infinity, which she sketched out and then sort of pulled off the page with her fingers. It hung in the air, and the closest I can get to describing it is it seemed to be ceaselessly moving and dead still at the same time. I felt like my eyeballs were about to turn inside out every time I looked at it.
"Well, here go our bees," Willow said. She picked up a spray bottle that said Windex but I guessed wasn't, and circled around the notional representation, misting it evenly. It took her longer to get around it than it should've, and by the time she'd circled back, she was sweating and shaking as she lowered herself back to the ground and leaned on Tara's shoulder. Tara put an arm around her and started the chanting part. It was in a language I don't understand, chanting always makes me sleepy, and in general I try not to know any more about magic than I can help. You'll have to ask the witches about it yourself, if you want details.
The chanty bits were taking a while, and my mind drifted, and I thought again about how the worst part was how close I'd been to saving them. Or no, the worst part was having to look at the bot every day. The worst parts were the moments of wondering why the hell I even care. I thought that the worst part was that Buffy didn't get to do all the things she wanted, that she died tired and sad; or maybe that Buffy actually did do exactly what she wanted when she went leaping off that tower. All of the parts were the worst parts.
Finally the chanting stopped and something went "ping." The notional representation lit up in a shower of tiny sparks. Willow straightened up and leaned forward, as if listening to something.
"She's lost," Willow said. "Buffy's lost." Her eyes were round and dark, unreached by the guttering light of the candle. "She's… scattered, all across the universe. Her blood is calling to us. From the earth. Deep calling to deep…" Her voice trailed off into panicked gulping.
"Willow? Willow, are you okay?" Xander began to get up.
"I'm fine," she said, still sounding a bit hoarse, but more like herself now. "I… What did I…?"
"Buffy's lost, you said," Anya said. "Scattered across the universe. Across dimensions, I suppose you meant."
"So would that work?" Tara asked. "What we were going to do?"
"I don't know," Willow said. "We thought she was in a hell dimension, which, sure, dicey, but, you know, doable. Though Osiris is actually pretty powerful. We could probably get him to put her together. Maybe we should just go ahead the way we planned."
"I don't know," Anya put in. "Straightforward return from the dead is one thing. Even if he can really gather her from all those dimensions, he will want a higher price for this, and we don't know what that could be."
At this, Willow frowned and twisted her lips. I expect the original price wasn't so easily paid either, whatever it was.
"Besides," Tara spoke up again, "I don't know if he even could. I mean, he's the lord of the dead, so he could give her life and take away death, but this is just something else altogether. It's almost like having to make her all over again."
"So, what, now we leave her like that?" Xander said. "What does it even mean, she's scattered. Does she… she…?"
"We don't know, Xander," said Tara. "We just don't know. Of course we don't want to leave her. It's just, calling on Osiris, like we'd meant to, it might not even help. It could make things worse. And Anya's right – we don't know what he will demand in return."
Xander opened his mouth to retort – yes, that was my first impulse as well, to blurt out that there is nothing we wouldn't give – and then, surprisingly, a glimmer of sense set in and he settled back down. Me? Well, my first thought was that I'd cheerfully let the world burn to get Buffy back. My second was that Buffy wouldn't much like getting back to a burnt out world. And call it a gut feeling, but the sacrifice we'd need... Seems to me like it would need to be as dark as she is light. Things have a way of wanting to balance out.
"There may be another way," Anya said slowly. "It's not something that's really been done a lot, because, first of all, it's really difficult…"
"Hey, me, I eat difficult for breakfast!" Willow piped up. "Why didn't you tell me about this other way in the first place?"
Anya gritted her teeth. "Because, as I was about to say before you so rudely interrupted me, it wouldn't be you doing it."
"What do you mean, not me?"
"I mean, not. You. There is a way to open the paths of the dead."
"But I thought it wasn't Buffy's being dead that's the problem." Xander, this time.
"Will you let me talk? I'm not talking about where people go when they die. What I mean is, you have to be dead to find the paths. The way it works is, you have to walk them all the way, and if you get to the end, you get to ask the Powers for what you need. Anything you need."
"This really works?"
Anya shrugged. "I don't know anyone who actually did it, if that's what you're asking. Then again, it's not like I hung out with a lot of dead people. After they died, I mean. Opening the paths isn't hard – it's walking them that's supposed to be almost impossible. What I heard is, the paths are only there because the Powers have to put in loopholes, so there is technically a way to get around everything, but really it's so difficult it might as well not exist."
"You know how to open them? Why haven't I come across this before?" Willow sounded put out. Because there are more things in heaven and on earth, I thought but didn't say. I was beginning to see where this was going.
"It's not widely known. In fact, many parties have gone to considerable lengths to ensure it isn't, at least according to the demon who told me this. It's all very hush-hush. I don't know that Spike is up to it, in any case," she said critically. "He's kind of been off lately."
"Spike?" said several incredulous voices.
"Well, duh. Unless you see any other dead people hanging around waiting to volunteer for this extremely dangerous and probably futile mission."
"Angel…"
"Is in Tibet," Willow sighed. "He is processing his grief."
Processing fiddlesticks. I still can't bear to hear about him, useless fucking twit.
"Wait. So you mean, Spike needs to do this? It's dangerous, though, right?" Christ. We'd all forgotten Dawn was there.
"Didn't I already say that, like a million times?" Anya said.
"It's for Buffy, Dawnie. Spike wouldn't mind doing this, not if it's for Buffy."
Mind? I just couldn't believe I could have a second chance at this. At not fucking things up for Buffy.
"What are we waiting for?" I said. "You said it's easy – go on then, let's get with the opening."
We all looked at Anya.
"It's just your regular portal-opening, doesn't even need that much power. You do the herbs and the candles and the circle, only with the lyke-wake song instead of the usual words. You all know it, right?"
They stared back at her (I was a little surprised at Tara).
"Fire and fleet and candle light," I said. "And I'm to be the corpse, I suppose. Very funny."
"How on earth would you know about this, Spike? Have you been messing around with dark magic on the sly?" said Xander. I don't know why he should assume everyone else is as illiterate as him. I decided not to waste time by antagonizing him.
"It's an old folk song. Was sort of a craze, back in the day, collecting them, writing up the music. Must've heard it somewhere."
"Right, so we can do the portal, and Spike goes through, and…?"
"I told you, I don't know," Anya said.
"But it's a chance," Xander said. "A chance we could really get Buffy back."
And, unlike trying to bargain with Osiris, the only one at risk here would be yours truly. Worst case, I don't make it back and everything else stays in statu quo. A prospect traumatizing to absolutely no one. Dawn… yeah, she'd miss me, sure. But she's still a kid and she's got all the others there for her. And I don't know that it would have done her much good, me hanging about when we'd all know I had a chance of going after Buffy and decided not to take it.