Author's Note: I had to do the cliffhanger in the previous part. Sorry about that . . .
Disclaimer: 'tain't mine.
X X X X X
"Okay."
The word was one of the hardest Kennedy had ever said. As Giles came over to take the Scythe, she considered changing her mind, running out the door. Willow would come with her; she'd said she would.
And then she could take the Scythe and use it to Slay, like she was meant to do. Willow would back her with her magic. And she could make the ghosts quiet -- prove to them that despite her failure she could be a good Slayer.
But she'd promised Willow. And Willow was everything to her, now. She was what mattered.
So when Giles held out his hand for the Scythe, Kennedy handed it over.
Willow came over and hugged her as soon as she let it go. She needed Willow right then; her presence, her touch.
"Thank you, Kennedy," Giles said.
She couldn't answer. One of the two things giving her life any purpose and she'd just handed it over.
She clung to Willow a bit more tightly.
X X X X X
Giles took the Scythe behind the counter; Wesley and Angel followed him.
"Much as I'd like to have someone more expert than I look at this," Giles said, "I'm not entirely sure I trust your new employees." That was an understatement; why Angel had chosen to take over was something he was having difficulty understanding. Clearly, neither the vampire nor Wesley had suddenly turned evil.
"Do you trust my old ones?" Angel said. "Because you can at least have Wes and Fred's help. I know you're not a witch yourself, Giles, but right now you and Wes here are the closest things to experts we've got who aren't . . . tainted by association, and while Fred's a scientist, not a magic-user, she's one of the smartest people I know."
"Could you have her meet us here?" Giles asked. "And, Wesley, the vast majority of my books were either lost in the collapse or are still in England. Whatever you still have --"
As Wesley nodded, Angel said, "I have some still here, too."
"Also -- and much as it pains me to say this -- we originally tracked down some information on the Scythe via the internet. If you could round up a computer, that would be of tremendous help." Angel moved towards the phone and began making calls. "Wesley, when you come back -- you and I will tackle the sorcerous aspects. I realize that wasn't your forte --"
"No," Wesley said. "And then who will help Fred with the research?" He pointed to the main lobby area, where Willow was still holding Kennedy. "Certainly Willow is in no shape to help."
"Xander," Giles said.
The young man came over. "Yeah?"
"I realize the timing is horrible --"
"The timing's gonna be horrible for anything we do for the next several weeks except for eating and sleeping," Xander said. "What do you need me to do?"
"Um -- research. On the Scythe."
Xander laughed, and thankfully the laugh was not a bitter one. "Nothing ever changes, does it? Sure, I can spare some time for book readin'. I'm guessing we're trying to figure out what's in the Scythe that's got Kennedy and Willow acting so Mirror, Mirror?"
Exactly," Wesley said. It surprised Giles that Wesley knew the reference. It surprised Giles that he knew the reference; he'd been much more a Dr. Who man in his youth. "Giles, I'm assuming you know the details of the spell?" Giles nodded; Willow had gone over it with him very carefully beforehand. He wasn't there while it was cast, but Willow's helpfulness appeared to waxing and waning at random intervals, so she wasn't the most reliable source at the moment. "Good. Then we can get to work."
"One more thing," Giles said. "Xander. Do you think Dawn would be able to help us?"
"You mean, is she up for looking things up on a computer 24 hours after her sister died for the fourth time?" Xander asked acidly. "Wait a minute, I'll go check."
Giles held up a hand. "Never mind. I should have realized --"
"Giles, I'm barely up for this right now myself, and I've had years more experience than she has. I'm sure you're having trouble holding yourself together --"
"I am," Giles said.
"Then let's not stress anything further than it needs to be. Even the strongest steel has a breaking point."
"Speaking of which," Giles said. "Has anyone seen Andrew?"
"He hasn't come out since he's been here," Angel said. "He's still alive, though from everything I've heard I bet he's not liking that fact very much right now."
"Yeah," Xander said. "Dawn and I didn't have a whole hell of a lot of patience for his 'I should be dead' routine.' She may have taken the harsh a bit too far when she said she wished he'd died. But at this point I have bigger things to worry about than whether his feelings are hurt. And so does she."
Giles couldn't say anything to that. Andrew hadn't cut and run, and he'd gotten them some much-needed medical supplies, but the former villain's path to redemption wasn't especially high on his list of things to care about that day either. He wished things would be different, but as long as Andrew wasn't in imminent danger of killing himself Giles had to admit Xander was right: There were more important things to worry about at the moment.
"So, point me to a book, Giles. Let's see what we can do to help Willow and Kennedy."
Angel said, "Give me a second. I'll bring out what we still have. Wes, if you could call Fred?"
"Certainly," Wesley said.
Giles looked at the Scythe, then out at the Lobby. Kennedy was still clinging to Willow as though she represented her hope of Heaven; Willow was lovingly stroking the younger woman's hair, showing the tenderness and caring that seemed to be coming out nowhere else.
Dawn was nowhere in sight.
X X X X X
Dawn had better hearing than anyone ever gave her credit for. So, even though it didn't seem like she was listening to the conversation behind the desk, she was.
She appreciated Xander coming to her defense. If they asked her, for Willow, she'd help. If they didn't, she wouldn't volunteer.
She'd lost Buffy. Again. And this time it was forever, and there were no 'bots, no spells, no nothing, that was going to make it better again.
And this time, Spike and Anya had also died. Both of them left a hole in her that would never be filled. All the Potentials -- Amanda, Rona, Vi -- she came to know all of them to some extent. Hell, even Faith's death made her sad.
And then Angel mentioned Andrew.
She felt bad for what she'd said to him yesterday. He hadn't deserved. It wasn't his fault that everyone had died, and yet they were all treating him like it was.
So, while everyone was arguing, she went upstairs and knocked on the door to his room.
"Go away," came a muffled voice from inside.
"Andrew?" she said. "It's Dawn. I want to apologize."
A tromp of footsteps from inside the room, and then the door opened. God, Andrew looked like he'd been drinking for three days. He certainly hadn't slept. "You don't have to apologize," he said. "Because you're right. I don't blame you for wishing I was dead. I should be.
Dawn sighed. "I don't wish you'd died. I wish everyone else had lived."
"If you had the chance to trade my life for Buffy's, would you do it?" he asked. "Don't bother. I know the answer. I know I've never been anyone's favorite person."
"You're not. But you're not dead and I don't wish you were," Dawn said. "That's all I came to say, Except that you might want to eat something at some point. And bathe. You don't have to come out if you don't want to. But Willow and Kennedy are having some kind of trouble. Kennedy's seeing the ghosts of all the Slayers who died." Dawn didn't think Willow's problems were as severe.
Andrew closed his eyes for a second and said, "I'm coming down," he said. "If the Earth-2 Superman can get back up and battle the Anti-Monitor after his whole world had died, I can help the lovely Willow and Kennedy with their problems."
"I wasn't asking.--"
Andrew said, "I know you weren't. Just tell them I'll do what I can." Then he gently shut the door.
For the first time since they'd all looked back at Sunnydale and seen the big hole, Dawn actually felt good about herself.
For at least thirty seconds.
Then reality set back in and she trudged back down to the lobby.
