The grunting sounded vulgar and sexual at first, but then Buffy heard a pain-filled scream. Willow was in pain, so Buffy burst through the door. But the redhead didn't look like Willow. Buffy saw a demon with skin that looked like lightbulb glass, and eyes that were deep pools drawing her into colorful lightning, making heat flow to her groin. Then sunglasses broke the spell, and it was Willow standing there.

"Didn't expect you to get nostalgic for this old place, Slayer." Spike used his cast aside shirt to wipe off some of the dirt on his chest and face.

"Tell me it isn't true!" Buffy tried to get close to Willow, but it was like she'd drown in the demon so she stepped away. Her shoulders tensed when no denial came, and tears threatened. "Please tell me you didn't bring me back from the dead. Tell me you didn't rip me out of heaven."

"Slayer." Spike put on his shirt and stepped in front of her. Now that he had her attention, he said more gently, "Buffy, we thought you were in hell. Glory wanted to go back to her dimension, one of the badder hell dimensions." He glanced at the frown on Willow's face. "No one meant to hurt you. We thought we were helping you." He whispered reaching out for her.

Buffy let him hold her trembling shoulders. "I don't know what's real. Did that demon make me hallucinate or should I be in one of those other worlds? Should I be with Mom and Dad? Or should I be in a violent relationship instead? Is this real? Or am I stuck in a different unreality? This can't be real. Willow wouldn't do that. She's supposed to be my best friend. She'd never do that. How could she do that?"

Buffy collapsed on the dusty floor, and Spike followed her down. He held her while she sobbed, and he heard Willow leave. He'd have to talk to demon Red about this later. If she did this on purpose, then he'd hurt her, but he had a hard time believing she would.

In the end, Buffy cried herself to sleep, and he had to carry her home. He found her room easily enough. Willow had made it as close to Buffy's old room as possible, minus the posters. He lay Buffy down, took off her boots, and covered her up. When he heard the front door, he hoped it was Willow. He wanted that confrontation over with, but it was only Xander stumbling in drunk.

Spike walked down the stairs and found Dawn still in the library. "Any luck, Bit?"

"Wouldn't know. Without Buffy to confirm, it could be any of these or none of them." She gestured to the array of books open to woodcuts, lithographs, sketches, and photos of a variety of Ediths.

One caught his attention. "Hmm."

"What?"

"Just looks vaguely familiar is all." He sat down and kept the trend of playing things straight with the girl. "We need to talk."

"What's wrong?" Dawn saw by the set of his shoulders and the way his jaw twitched that he wasn't giving her good news.

"Buffy knows, and I doubt you'll see Willow for a while." Spike tried to hold her hand but she got up and wrapped her arms around herself.

"Why does everyone leave? Dad left. Mom died. Buffy died. Tara and Anya may never come back from that quest. Xander's always drunk. Willow won't be coming around. Giles can't even glance at me without being on the verge of tears. All my friends are dead or left town. Buffy's back, but she doesn't seem all the way here either. And I know it's not me, but it feels like it is." Her eyeliner and mascara streaked down her cheeks.

Spike got up and wrapped his arms around her. His job was taking care of the Scoobies these days. And whoever heaped that responsibility on him needed their head examined. He stroked Dawn's hair while he sang some old jazz song to her. That one she listened to over and over when she tried to comfort herself, Night and Day.

From the next room, Giles listened to it all. He didn't know what he could do for the children when his phantom leg hurt so much. And even when he managed to ignore that, his face hurt. And every now and again, his arm demanded his attention. What help was he to them when he couldn't even read a book? He found the scotch Willow had left for him and retired to his room with it. After a swig used to wash his pain killers down, his limbs loosened.

Looking at his stump, he sighed. He pulled the business card a nurse gave him out of his wallet and put it on the nightstand. He'd call about a prosthetic and physical therapy in the morning. He needed to take care of his child soldiers to the best of his ability, and he couldn't do that on crutches and blind. They needed him, and he promised himself he'd be up to the task.

The rock skidded down the street passing two stop signs after Willow kicked it. As if the not sleeping needed to suck even more, Willow's stomach gnawed, refusing her a moment of peace… Buffy knew. Willow was guilty enough after she found out that her coin toss came out tails, and she'd taken Buffy from heaven. But now Buffy either already knew or would know soon that Willow had made this huge sacrifice to do it. She never wanted to do that to her best friend. But after the bone eater attack, her mind focused on Riley dying, and he'd died saving Tara. Without that extra help, what if something worse came along? What if Tara got hurt? Or worse killed? Or even worse than that? There was always worse. The pit of worsedom never had a bottom and it would never get one either.

She knew why Tara had been pulling away. After Glory took her sanity, Willow knew that some part of Tara resented being in Glory's line of fire. Willow didn't want to push Tara, so she gave her space But after four months it looked like there was no such thing as enough of it. Between the inevitable event of Tara leaving her, and worrying about Tara's safety, she made the decision. And no matter how awful things were for Buffy, Willow would do it again.

The only difference would be, she'd go on that quest instead of Tara. By the time Willow knew where Tara and Anya had gone, it was too late. Those that take the first step of a quest were the ones that had to see it to the end. There was no tagging someone else in. Terrified that Tara wouldn't make it, Willow's eyes burned as they stained her cheeks blue.

"There's gotta be some kind of fitting punishment." Something to make her feel better, feel some kind of atonement, or better yet nothing at all.

Oh, Goddess how she wanted sleep.

For the last eight hours, Tara and Anya had slept just outside the entrance to Clay's cave. But they woke with the first rays of the sun. Tara whispered to Anya, "It's time."

"I know." Anya got up and rolled their sleeping bags up while Tara stuffed their supplies into their packs. They stashed them behind a prickly bush. With one look they held hands and entered the cave.

"Anyanka, you seek me out after castration? What makes you think I'll entertain your request?" The voice echoed off the walls and Tara swallowed her fear. Her gaze glued to the green glowing eyes in front of them while Anya just looked annoyed.

"Because if you want to keep your hold here, you'll keep up with your end of the bargain you made with the higher powers. You can't turn away a request unless they fail your trials. So the sooner we start, the sooner it'll be over."

"Your request has been made." His voice faded as the glowing eyes disappeared.

Anya and Tara turned when they heard footsteps behind them. A large shadow loomed but a body never came into view. The two women whipped their heads around as the shadow and the footsteps switched to the other side of them. Then Anya groaned in even more annoyance. "It's a Hannish demon."

After picking up a handful of dust, Anya blew it at the shadow, and it disappeared just as it punched Tara in the stomach.

"Oh, well that was easier than I thought." Tara smiled as she held her stomach.

"That was just the first of the trials."

"How many are there?"

"Don't know anyone who's survived to be able to answer that." Anya kept her guard up while Tara's fear ratcheted up to near heart attack levels.

Then they got blindsided with a hurricane.