Life Hard

by Soulburnt

When you're trying to be better after decades of evil, a little encouragement can make all the difference. When Spike gets a nudge out of the crypt and toward Africa a few months early, it changes everything for the Scoobies, for Sunnydale, and for the world. Twice.

36. Break of Dawn

Break of Dawn

⸹

Sunnydale

January 2001

⸹

Winter solstice wasn't long past, so it was nearly dark at five in the afternoon when Buffy knocked on the door of the house were Luisa lived. After a moment of stillness that the Slayer read as surprise, she heard footsteps, and then the door opened. "Hi, Luisa," she chirped. "Do you have a few minutes?"

"Of course," Luisa said, nodding so deeply that it was almost a bow. Buffy came inside for the first time and looked around. The house was still mostly bare, but Luisa had hung two Dali prints on the walls Buffy could see.

"I have something for your computer," Buffy said, "and I thought I'd bring it by, give us a chance to start getting to know each other."

Luisa nodded. "It's in here." She led her to the kitchen. Instead of a dining room table, Luisa had put in a desk. The room was spotless and quiet. Apparently, she wasn't one of the vampires that still ate human food.

Buffy went to the desk and set her messenger bag on it long enough to find the little box inside. "It's a video camera," she said. Willow had walked her through the setup, so the Slayer looked confident as she plugged in the cable and popped the installation disk into the floppy drive. Luisa looked on in silence throughout the operation. "Here, you sit down," Buffy said, and she changed places so that the camera was pointing at Luisa and the vampire's image was on the screen.

As was true for most vampires, her image was novel to her. She turned her head side to side and lifted a hand to smooth her hair. "Oh." It was all she said, but there was surprise and some sadness in the word.

Buffy brought out the rest of her gift. "I thought this palette would suit you," she said. "I hope you like them." It was a blue mesh drawstring bag with a box of eyeshadows, a mascara, and a Clinique lipstick in Black Honey. "The lipstick will look too dark, but it won't be. It flatters everyone; all the best magazines say so."

Luisa was looking at her warily. "Why did you give me this?"

"I-I thought it might be nice to see yourself," Buffy said warily.

The vampire nodded at the makeup. "I am Spike's lieutenant," she said, shaking her head, "your husband's lieutenant."

"Oh." Buffy grinned. "Why would I want you to look good?'

Luisa nodded, then she raised a finger to indicate that she would be back in a moment. When she returned, she had a wingback chair for Buffy.

The Slayer sat down, too, and leaned forward. "Do you know why Spike is the Master – I mean, why he bothers to be the Master?" When the dark-haired woman shook her head, Buffy went on. "He's trying to help change Sunnydale into something other than the Hellmouth. Part of that is…" Buffy paused, trying to find words at the right level of English. "You know how magicians keep your focus here," she waved a hand frantically, "while they do their trick here?" She waggled the fingers of her other hand low and almost behind her knee. When Luisa nodded, she went on. "That's what Spike is doing. While he's making a lot of noise as Master, we're quietly trying to get the worst of the demons out of town."

"Vampires who kill rather than drink."

"Yes." Buffy squinched up her face. "Though Anya has a plan for that as well."

"Was the Count… just noise?"

Buffy didn't try to sugarcoat this. "All the decibels. But he chose to come here."

"I don't know if he wanted you as a Sister," Luisa said.

Buffy shrugged, not concerned by this. "Never happen. And even if it did, draining a Slayer is fatal to a vampire."

Luisa's eyes rounded. "I did not know this."

"Yeah, apparently our blood is supposed to be an aphrodisiac." She rolled her eyes. After a moment, she leaned forward. "Only one vampire ever lived through it," she said in a confidential voice.

She stared into Buffy's expectant face. "Spike." It wasn't a question.

"He says it changed him." Her demeanor was serious as she stared at the vampire. "Every other vampire either met the sun the next morning or was easy prey for her Watcher."

After a moment, a smile curved Luisa's lips. "So he came to Sunnydale to die."

Spike hadn't pried into the relationship his lieutenant had with the dusted Count, so Buffy didn't either. "That's the only reason to come to this town. We just have to get that message out to the rest of the evil population."

Luisa glanced at the makeup. "I still don't understand this."

"Almost all of what Spike does is to create an image. Mysterious and all-powerful. Alluring, so other vampires want to submit."

Luisa got it. "So, his lieutenant should also be alluring."

"A-as much as you want to be. I think he expects you to stand behind him, be both sexy and threatening, and not say much when he has to deal with demons."

"And then you don't have to," she said astutely.

"True. Although that threat is always going to be there, unstated." Buffy gave her a searching look. "Are you ready for this?"

"Yes. It is somewhat of my life with Dracula, more of the sexy than the threatening."

"You have patrol with Spike tonight. Are you ready for that?"

Luisa stared at the Slayer, finally understanding. What she really wanted to know, was whether she was up to the job of guarding the Master. The vampire stared past the other woman's shoulder for a moment, then held out one finger and waited. After a moment, Buffy touched her fingertip to Luisa's.

"I am only twenty-two," she said, almost apologetically. "I am not strong for a vampire. I am not especially fast. What I can do… I can understand other's emotions, which lets me know that they might be more likely to attack." She met Buffy's eyes frankly. "If I touch another, I can give them my emotions. Usually sadness." Tears welled up in Buffy's eyes. "Much stronger than that. I have left humans and demons on the ground, unable to move for many minutes." She drew her hand back to her, cradling it against her abdomen."

Buffy dashed her tears away with her own hand. "A touch. Through clothing or scales or armor?" At Luisa's nod, she went on. "Good. Have you staked another vampire before?"

Luisa nodded, her eyes shadowed. "The Sister I replaced."

"Well, make sure Spike lets you stake any vampires tonight," Buffy said. "Around here, you'll have to do that nightly."

The vampire shook her head. "I can't say I didn't choose this."

"I can." Buffy lifted her hand in the air.

Luisa seemed to jerk, as if someone had touched her shoulder and she realized she wasn't alone. "How old were you when you became the Slayer?"

"Fifteen."

So young. "I was nineteen when Dracula saw me."

"I'll turn twenty this month." Buffy had promised herself she wouldn't pry, but if Luisa had been a vampire for just twenty-two years… "Spike said you went to Girona after I slayed the Count?" Her voice was kind. "For your family?"

"Yes." Luisa looked away and fell silent. Just as Buffy was about to change the topic, she went on. "Both my parents died on the same day. I had no one to ask, so I went to the library to check old magazines," she shook her head once and corrected the word, "newspapers. Car accident in the early nineties. But I was really looking for Arnau."

Buffy reached over and touched her knee. "Your boyfriend?"

Luisa nodded. "I met him at university. He was the first… He was blind, so he never saw this," she waved at her lovely face with distaste. "All my life, I feel what others felt when they saw me. Arnau got to know me. He really loved me, and I loved him."

Buffy's eyes closed for a moment, thinking of Hemery. "I have had friends that I did not realize weren't true friends until they hurt me. I can understand how special that must have been." Luisa nodded, pressing her lips together. "Did you find him?" she asked gently.

"I did. He is married to a very nice woman. They seem happy. They have children."

Children that might have been hers. Buffy touched Luisa's knee again. "Are you glad that you found him?"

She nodded, then shrugged. "It was like I never dared to feel anything since I rose. Now, it is so… sharp." Luisa's voice had petered out. She took a fresh breath. "I am glad that he is happy. I am sad for myself."

"The best thing to do is keep busy. That's how I've made it through these last few months."

"How is your mother?"

"She doesn't get as tired now. And she hasn't had any… odd behavior since the surgery." Buffy gave a shrug, too. "We're hopeful. She goes back to Houston later this month."

"I hope to meet her eventually."

"She'll be at the meetings when she feels like it." The Slayer stood, and so did Luisa. "Speaking of Mom, I need to go see her." Now that her mother was doing better, she had fewer excuses to hang around the house. Joyce was asking her to run errands so guard duty over Dawn didn't seem so obvious.

"I am glad you came by."

"I am, too." Buffy gave her a smile. For a second, Luisa swayed toward her as if leaning in for a hug, but then stilled. "I hope everything goes well tonight."

"Buffy? A question."

"Okay."

"When the Master says, 'Lu,' does he mean my name or lieutenant?"

"Oh. Lu for Luisa. He had a little cousin named Lucinda that he called 'Lu,' too. But he is British. They do like their puns." They shared a smile.

The Slayer left the house and went out to her car. She liked Luisa, another soulless vampire. Giles had told her that he gave Luisa three years before she went off to get her soul, now that she was under Buffy's influence. Buffy teased him in return that it would probably be his time as a reward for the Three Sisters that would inspire Luisa to get her soul, because what evil was left after seducing a Watcher?

⸹

"The Council of Watchers is coming for a visit."

Spike froze and looked over the back of the couch at his wife. He had rented Withnail and I, since she had never seen the movie. He and Giles tended to quote from it. "When?"

"Just after you and Mom get back from Houston." Buffy was in the kitchen packing peanut butter into a stalk of celery.

"Well. S'pose we'll all get along."

"No 'suppose' about it. Giles asked them what they know about Glory."

"Oh." He waited until she came back to the couch and was safely cuddled against him. "That means I don't get to terrorize any of them." He stole a bit of peanut butter from her snack.

"No. I assume their assassins aren't going to be along for this trip."

"We haven't seen anything of Glory."

"No, but Giles says that the crazy people are still showing up at the hospital."

"We don't know that they're connected to Glory," he pointed out.

"Only that they started showing up about the same time she did. I don't believe in coincidence."

"You think she's fed off them, only not their blood."

Buffy nodded. "Slayer's intuition."

He gave her a squeeze in reassurance. "Well, I'm sure the Council will tell us what we need to know, and then you can kill her one final time."

⸹

Glory was a god.

Buffy kicked a forgotten coffee cup from the ground toward a trash barrel. It didn't go in. She was crossing campus to meet Willow for patrol. Hmm, coffee didn't sound like a bad idea. The temperature was in the forties, and she wished she'd worn gloves.

The visit from Council of Watchers had gone great until Quentin Travers had said those words. They had tried to make her friends seem like a liability. Xander had mentioned he'd be testing for his black belt in judo later in the year, and Willow had kindled a momentary flame in her hand without saying a word. Giles cleared his throat and notified Travers that they had the encyclopedic knowledge of a thousand-year-old demon on hand. Buffy's retort had been that her husband had recently taken Dracula's remaining bride into his service. Travers had never once acknowledged the black-clad blond at her side. Scoobies, all the points; Watchers, zero.

Glory was a god.

The Council rehired Giles as her Watcher, with back pay, since he'd never stopped doing that job. They had access to so many more resources now. Another Watcher, a very old, very portly man named Aubrey Willingham, was going to stay in Sunnydale to help with research. Giles both liked him and was impressed with him.

A little smile crossed her face at the memory of one of the female Watchers. She had done her thesis on William the Bloody, and she could never manage to keep her fascinated gaze away from Spike for more than ten seconds. Buffy thought it was cute and also a little irritating. But she'd never said a word to him, either.

"Buffy!" Willow raised a hand from where she was standing in front of the library.

"Hey, Wil." They hugged and fell into step beside each other. "What do you think about getting coffee?"

"Um, as long as it's decaf. I have an early class tomorrow."

"How does it look this semester?"

"Not too bad. I'm carrying nineteen hours, so I can't get behind, but it should be manageable. How about you?"

"Okay. I finished my math requirement last semester, so it's all good from now on. I've got a French class that will take care of the language requirement. Pretty soon, I'm going to have to declare a major."

"Oh, I know. I still don't know what I want to do."

"Whatever it is, you don't have to do it here at UC-Sunnydale."

Willow gave her a look. "If I didn't know you loved me, I'd think you were trying to get rid of me."

"Instead of just wanting the best for you?" Buffy gave her a look right back.

"You sound like my mother."

"I know for a fact that I don't sound like your mother." So, of course, she had to try. "I just know what's best for you."

"You did a pretty good imitation," Willow said, sounding impressed. They walked through the first of the cemeteries, falling silent as they went, but saw and heard nothing. At the gate, they turned right toward the Expresso Pump. "So, you know what you're wearing to Anya's inauguration?"

"Yes. A suit. It's like a bridesmaid dress; I will never wear it anywhere else. It's kind of… staid."

"You'll make it look good," Willow assured her.

Buffy shook her head in absolute negation. "What are you wearing?"

"Just a dress with a long coat over it."

"Oh. I wish I'd thought of that."

"How's Dawn doing?"

"Ecstatic that she has a friend elected mayor because of civics. She's done all her reports on the campaign."

"I mean… about the, you know?"

"Oh. Still safely in the dark. Mom is the best. She hasn't changed even a little toward her."

"Xander had a hard time with it, at first."

"You and Tara have been great. And I think Anya just doesn't care, as long as Xander isn't in any extra danger."

"Yeah, all of her family is found, I guess."

They waited in line at the Expresso Pump, and then took their coffees back into the cold streets. "Shady View next?"

"Sure."

"Speaking of family, how is Tara doing? She seemed kind of down at Christmas."

"She was, at first. Oz helped." Willow took a cautious sip. "She misses her family."

"I thought so. In the good way, like missing the flu or ringworm?"

"It's harder than that."

"I know." Buffy looked ahead to the gates of the Shady View. "I still miss Dad."

Willow recognized the signs. "Here," she said, holding out her hand for Buffy's coffee. In a couple of minutes, the Slayer was back, tucking her stake up her sleeve. She took her coffee back as they both went into the graveyard. "Two of them?" When Buffy nodded, she shook her head. "I remember when that would have taken a while. You've gotten so good."

"Practice makes perfect," she said dryly. "So, to change the subject, how are the Dingoes doing on tour?"

"Oz says the crowds are good. He texts us every day. I think he's lonely, though."

"Aren't you guys going to go see them next month?"

"Mm," Willow said, touching her hand to her mouth. She'd tripped on a root while taking a drink. "We are. They're playing the Hollywood Bowl, the biggest venue so far. It's on a Friday, so we're going down for the weekend."

"It's your first road trip, isn't it?"

Willow nodded. "There's so much Tara has never done, just because she's never had money before, but there's a ton of stuff I've never done that she has. And, there's all this stuff that we haven't done together."

"You guys are coming up on your first anniversary," Buffy mused.

Willow grinned. "I know." She started to say something else, but instead put her coffee on a flat tombstone. "Incoming." She got a stake from her coat pocket and fell into her place behind the Slayer.

"Girl's night at Mom's house this weekend." Buffy gave the invitation with a sigh. "We're never getting caught up otherwise."

⸹

"Hey, Mom," Buffy said. She went behind the gallery counter and gave her mother a kiss on the cheek. "How are you?"

"It's a good day," Joyce said, but there was something cool in her voice.

"I invited Willow and probably Tara to your place this weekend," she began, but Joyce cut her off.

"Come with me." Joyce turned on her heel and went through the door to her office.

Buffy followed, her brow drawn. "What's wrong?"

"You paid my bills."

"You asked me to."

"Buffy, don't give me that." Joyce had asked Buffy to write checks to keep her accounts current while she was ill. "Yesterday, I got notice that my mortgage was paid off. I was too mad to even talk to you."

"Mom –"

"I never asked you to do that."

Buffy held up her hand. "Listen to me." She waited a moment to see what Joyce would do. When her mother put her jaw out to a stubborn angle but didn't say anything, she went on. "I have money enough to do this for you, for Dawn. You let me pay for camp for her last summer."

"That's different."

Buffy's voice got louder. "This summer, you can pay for it, because all your money won't be going to cover bills. Mom, I don't know how you've done it these past few years." She moved closer and put her hand on her mother's arm. "I saw your check register… I mean, I knew I couldn't just go buy whatever shoes I wanted, but… It's like we've been eating this amazing toast, but I never knew how thin you had to spread the butter."

Tears came to Joyce's eyes. "I never wanted you to know how… close it was, sometimes."

"Now it doesn't have to be. You know those athletes who go pro and buy their mom a new house? All I did was pay off yours. I'll admit it; this is something I've wanted to do for months. I-I just didn't know how to bring it up."

"I never wanted you to do it." Joyce put both hands to her sternum. "It's my job to take care of you."

Buffy took her hands. "You always do. You always have. But I hate that no one takes care of you." Both of the Summers women teared up. "So I did. And, anyway, you can't get the mortgage back."

"I can pay you back."

"No." There was command in her voice. "You put that money in Dawn's college fund or something."

"Buffy…" Joyce looked down.

"Mom, you're going to have doctor bills and trips to M.D. Anderson and other expenses for," Buffy closed her eyes, "at least a year." The imaging had been clear when Joyce had her checkup, but there would be many more visits before they would pronounce her cured. "Dawn's gonna need all kinds of money for extra things, just like I did – prom dresses, dance squad uniforms. It isn't like you're going to have all this extra money to, I don't know, hire a hot pool boy to ogle."

"We don't have a pool."

"I know that. Hence the unnecessary expense for a pool boy." She saw the humor in Joyce's eye and relaxed. The argument might not be over, but she'd won.

"What does your husband think about –"

Buffy shook her head. "Spike would gladly have all of us installed in a mansion with a hundred servants at our beck and call. Two pool boys, probably."

Joyce gave Buffy a considering look. "He tries to… cosset you?"

"Huh-uh," Buffy said. "You will not get me to complain, then say, 'oh, that's how I feel.' I know all your tricks, Mom."

"I doubt it," Joyce said dryly. Then she pulled Buffy into a fierce hug. "I love you. I just wish you weren't too old for a spanking."

"You don't believe in spanking."

"Maybe I was wrong about that."

⸹

"Oh!" Willow yelped in surprise and let go of Tara's hands.

Tara did the same. The both stumbled and sat ungracefully. She put out a hand to Willow. "Oh, sweetie. Your nose is bleeding." Then she looked around, realizing where they were. "We did it."

Beneath the blood, a slow smile spread over Willow's face. "We did, didn't we? We totally teleported."

The two of them had been working on teleporting in the back room of the Magic Box. Now they were on the small balcony at the top wall of the store, which was really just a railed catwalk in front of shelves. Tara had put up a couple of vases of dried flowers for color, but the shelves mostly held books of dark magic that Giles had asked them to keep. The two witches looked at each other and grinned.

"We did it!"

"We're awesome!"

"We're… stuck."

"What?" Willow said sharply.

"No ladder."

"We'll just teleport back," Willow said. She held out her hands for Tara again. Two minutes later, she pulled away, swaying a bit to the right. "Okay," she sighed. "Refractory period."

Tara snorted and fished her phone from her pocket. "So, who do you want to call to bring us the ladder?"

"Gotta be Anya, right? She's been not so patiently waiting for this."

"Plus she isn't far away. I'd hate for a customer to come in right now." Tara leaned forward and gave her a hug and a kiss. "I'm so proud of you, sweetie."

"Proud of us," Willow corrected.

⸹

"Hey, Alvin," Xander said. It was only in the fifties today, and a cold breeze was coming off the ocean. He was glad to get inside the heated trailer, even if it was to talk to his boss.

"Xander!" Alvin pushed away from the little desk and turned to the counter behind him. "Coffee?"

"Sure."

"Great. Cup for you," he said, handing over the Styrofoam cup, "and one for me. Now, what did you want to talk about?"

Xander took off his hard hat and sat down, resting it on his knee. "Something difficult," he admitted, grimacing. "I'm going to have to quit." He saw the surprise on Alvin's face. "You've been really good to me," he said quickly, "and I really love my job. But I can't stay."

"Xander," Alvin said slowly, "I was ready to offer you a raise. Ten thousand. I think I can swing fifteen. I'd really like you to stay."

"Oh." Xander looked down. "Oh, man. Alvin, I'm sorry. I asked Anya to marry me. She said yes. That means I'm going to cause you lots of conflicts of interest."

"Mayor Harris, huh?" Alvin gave him a happy smile. "Congratulations!"

"Thanks."

"Doesn't mean you have to quit. We don't have to bid –"

The younger man held up a hand. "I do. There's going to be a conflict of interest when I ask you to be the builder on the old school site."

"Builder? For what?"

"Luxury apartments." When Alvin looked at him blankly, he shrugged. "A couple of friends of mine have money. They want to buy the old high school so a new one can't be built there. It should never be rebuilt."

Alvin looked at him for a long moment. "Like it's cursed ground or something."

"Yeah." Their eyes met for a moment of truth, though nothing was spoken.

"Then why would these friends of yours want to put up housing there?"

"Part of the plan is to build a memorial to the class of '99," Xander said, avoiding the actual answer. The coven was going to do a lot of work. "If they win the bid for the site."

"Lot of ifs," Alvin pointed out. "You don't have to quit now."

"I didn't plan on leaving until we're done here," Xander said, tilting his head toward the door to indicate the bank branch they were constructing. "Or maybe not until we finish the Olsen duplex."

Alvin bit his lip. "I've had a lot of young men working for me, but there hasn't been any other that I thought might become my '& c.'"

"You…" Xander felt rather numb. "You want me to be a partner?"

Alvin lifted a shoulder. "Once you started being project manager, I've been able to take on twice as much work. You're smart, capable, and don't pretend you know something when you don't. The men respect you." He looked past Xander into middle distance, in the manner of men. "I've thought about it. Hoped."

"Thanks. I mean, really. Thank you. I don't know what to say."

"You are right about Anya being mayor, though." Alvin grimaced.

"She's not Wilkins," he offered. "I mean, she won't be mayor forever." Going into business with Alvin wasn't something he'd thought about, but he was already in business with Giles and his friends. "After she moves on to her next job, maybe you'd consider letting me buy into N & C?"

"I would at that," Alvin agreed, reaching across the desk to shake his hand.

⸹

Joyce felt the airplane finish a long bank and leaned against Spike's shoulder, relaxing. All of her tests and images had been fine, and she was delighted to be leaving Houston and headed home. Exhausted, but delighted.

"Want anything to drink, Joyce?" Spike asked.

She jerked a little. "Did I fall asleep?"

"Just a little nap."

Joyce focused on the steward leaning over their seats. "Tomato juice, please, and a cup of ice." She checked her watch. Just twenty minutes of nap, it seemed. Her hands went automatically to fluff her curls, then stilled. It still felt odd to have such short hair.

"What are you smiling about, then?"

"Oh." Joyce looked down for a moment, a little flustered. "I think my new style must make me look younger. When you went to get water for me, one of the nurses asked if you were my husband. I think she was disappointed that you were my son-in-law. She thought I was a cougar."

"Yeah, might not want to try to be one of those."

She laughed. The pleasant sound felt natural, though emotions sometimes didn't. Joyce felt like she was always monitoring herself, checking if everything felt like it used to.

"It suits you. The hair, I mean. And if you don't like it, it's growing right quick."

"I don't feel old," she said, knowing the conversation wasn't quite on track. "I mean, I'll be going back to work full time next week, and I've got a foxy British boyfriend."

It was Spike's turn to laugh. "Please call Rupes 'foxy' in front of Dawn. I'm begging you."

She poked him with her elbow. "I think I want him to come with me in March." That was her next appointment with the specialists.

He turned to examine her, pleased to find the reason seemed to be confidence. "Yeah? Won't stand in the way of you having your fox in your hen – er, to yourself."

This time, she swatted his arm, blushing.

⸹

"I, Anya Jenkins, affirm that I will faithfully and impartially perform the duties of this office to the best of my abilities." She waited, her right hand upraised, for the camera flashes to die away. Then she lowered her arm and turned to smile at the crowd and the cameras.

Behind her were her friends, her fiancé, and several local business owners, including Joyce. Anya pulled Xander forward, making sure to rest her left hand on his arm so that her diamond engagement ring would be in the photograph. She changed her orientation, trying not to favor any news organization, also to have the Master in the frame behind her. Xander gave her a light kiss and propelled her forward for interviews.

"That hardly took any time," Dawn was complaining when he rejoined his friends. "But, hey, I got out of my last two classes."

Buffy, wearing the business suit bought for the occasion, had been hiding behind Spike, her mother, or basically anyone taller than her. The navy suit was boxy, hid all her curves, and somehow was a shade of blue that made her look washed out. She hoped no one had really seen her in it. Now she looked around at the other people in the room. Most everyone was eyeing Anya speculatively, which made sense. Sunnydale elected a mayor every four years; the council members were elected every two. Anya had more power and was an unknown factor for these people. She didn't like – the Slayer didn't like some of the looks given to the new mayor.

"Nice suit," Dawn said, suddenly at her elbow.

Her sister wasn't taller than she was, but Buffy could still use her as a shield. She moved so the wall was behind her. "I hated it in the store. Why did I buy it?"

"Because you're a dork," Dawn said, only half of her attention on the insult. "How do you know who is a demon, anyway?" she asked in a low voice.

"What?"

"Anya said about half the chamber of commerce are demons. I don't see horns or anything."

"Let's change topics," Buffy said through gritted teeth. "Anya will probably have enough problems without you insulting someone by asking where their tail is."

Dawn ignored this. She leaned closer. "Do you think any of these people might make trouble for Anya? Because she isn't a bad guy like the last mayor?"

Buffy stared at her. It was obvious Dawn got the brains in the family. "No," she lied, "I'm sure she's going to be fine."

After the celebratory dinner at Jake's, the nicest restaurant in Sunnydale, Buffy and Spike had a moment alone in the Bentley. She peeled out of the jacket. "Yeah, this is going straight to Goodwill."

Spike gave her a wolfish smile. "Or you could buy a pair of reading glasses, and we'll play Watcher captured by evil vampire." He moved halfway across the console, eyes roaming over her. "I never have had the chance to cut clothing off your hot, lush, little body."

"Oh, Mr. the Bloody," she said with a breathy British accent, "I've written a whole thesis on you without ever truly understanding the… lengths you'll go to for your dashed evil."

He laughed and leaned in for a kiss. "Mmm. Yeah, that woke up the Arrogant Prick. You think Anya's in any real danger?"

Buffy put a hand against his shoulder, holding him away from her. "Yes. Even Dawn thought of it, asked me if Anya would be all right."

He sighed and slid back into the driver's seat. "Well, let's go off and be bodyguards, then." He watched her slide a sweater over her head, waiting until she was looking back at him. "Keep that suit, though."

Four hours later, Anya yawned. "I'm sleepy. I shouldn't have had fettucine Alfredo."

"I think it's the office, too," Buffy said, finding her yawn contagious. "It's seriously boring."

"And I only get $500 to redecorate," Anya groused. "I mean, could this be any more mid-century American businessman?"

Spike was frowning. "Someone coming up from hidden entrance number two," he said quietly.

They took their positions. Anya sat in the big chair, slid into a pair of Louboutin heels, put her feet on the desk, and opened up a humidor for a cigar. Spike slouched in the chair in front of the desk. Buffy, pausing only long enough to plump her cleavage perched on his thigh. After a number of footfalls on the other side of the panel made it obvious they had company, the polite knock almost made Buffy giggle.

"Come in," Anya said.

Three demons in business suits came in, accompanied by five Fyarl demons. The security detail took up positions around the room, everywhere but behind Anya's desk. One of the demons, a slim, tallish man with feline features, stepped forward. "Anyanka of Arashmaharr," he began.

"It's just Anya Jenkins now," she interrupted.

He paused, then went on. "I am unworthy to be the representative for the great Girash. This good sir represents –"

Anya's voice was loud. "The great Girash sends his congratulations on my election?"

Her interruptions were beginning to upset him. "I'm here to ask when tribute from Sunnydale will resume."

"What about you two?" Anya asked. "Same question from your lords?" They looked at each other, then nodded in assent. "Well, I'm sorry you made the trip for nothing."

"What?" the cat-faced demon asked.

"Sunnydale is ours now," Spike said.

"Who are you?"

"Master of the Order of Aurelius. Sunnydale is Anya's. She's already made her pact. This is hunting ground for vampires under my protection. That's all."

The representative for the great Girash gave him a muddy look. "You're nothing. Nothing. Vampires aren't worthy to –"

"Here, pet," Spike said, giving Buffy's thigh a squeeze until she stood up. Bagsy on the Fyarl. I brought a silver knife anyway.

Cat dude has to go. You care which of the others plays messenger boy?

Lady's choice.

Once Buffy was standing to his left, Spike squared off against the three suited demons. "Yeah, Girash would be, what, half-Girash on his mother's side? Don't go spouting about being a true demon. That's rot, and I can smell it."

All three stood speechless for a moment. The talkative one growled. Buffy realized it must have been a command in Fyarl, because Spike broke to the right, a flash of silver catching her eye for a moment. She brought up the gladius from behind their chair and beheaded Girash's agent and one of the other two with a single stroke of the short sword. She stopped the blade just short of the last demon's neck. The drops of blood on the blade did not stop, spattering across his face.

"Thank you, Sp– uh, the Master. Thank you, Slayer," Anya said coolly, as if her office walls and floors weren't splashed with blood and other fluids. She took her feet from the desk and stood up, glad to lean against her desk. The heels were pretty but uncomfortable. "You take both those heads back to whoever sent them. Tell their lords and yours that Sunnydale doesn't pay any tribute to anyone. Those deals died with Wilkins."

The remaining demon did a double-blink and swallowed. He bent to pick up the heads and bowed his way back to the entrance to the sewers. After about forty seconds of listening, Anya sat down.

"Ow. I can feel my tendons getting shorter."

Spike knocked on the door. Luisa, their security in case someone came through the building, opened the door. "Ready for the first bin," he told her. After a moment, she trundled in an enormous plastic garbage can on wheels. She and the Master made four of the bodies fit in it, then she went for the next trashcan.

Buffy opened a drop cloth like the kind painters use and gingerly put the Fyarl heads on it. Spike had plans to decorate the other end of the sewer entrance to the mayor's office much as barbarian kings once had. "So," she said, wiping her hands on the sides of her pants, "how many more do you think will come tonight?"

Anya had found a ledger in a hidden compartment in the office that showed when tribute was due to various supernatural entities. There were over one hundred entries, but less than twenty seemed to be ongoing. "Maybe five more tonight. Once word gets out, I'd say three more will show up. After that… It should be safe to start redecorating without having to worry about stains."

Buffy heard the elevator bell ding, then the sound of trash bins rolled into the car. "An? You're a size seven, right? Can I try on the Louboutins?"

"Sure. Sit on my desk and look all vapid and sexy, though, in case someone teleports in. I can't wait until Xander can collapse that passage and nail the door shut." Anya gestured at the other secret passageway, which led out to the street. "That one, too." She leaned down and brought up the shoes in one hand. "How did Wilkins ever get any work done with this kind of open-door policy?"

⸹

"So… how is number eight suiting you, love?"

"Mmm…" Buffy's noncommittal reply was throaty. "Not sure yet."

"Well, you're the birthday girl. Take as much time as – oh, sweet fuck!"

"I think… eight is okay."

They were in Los Angeles in cabin nine of their usual, sad motel, the weekend after Buffy's birthday. It was their first weekend away since learning Dawn was the Key. Spike's gift to Buffy was her choice of new positions, one for every year, and a selection of books with detailed illustrations to help her choose.

Right now, they were facing each other, belly to belly, her thighs over his, so close that they could hardly move. Buffy smiled. Well, he couldn't. He stared at her, his eyes wide, looking shocked and fey and so damned beautiful.

Spike took in a couple of ragged breaths. "Didn't know you could do anything like that."

Buffy let her head fall back, her eyes half-closed. "I can, in number eight, apparently." Late last fall, she'd had a cold and sneezed once while they were making love, simply… expelling Spike. It had been funny, but hadn't really made the idea of deliberately squeezing down on him appealing. This position, though… he wasn't going anywhere. "Now, hush. I'm concentrating. Need reps to get… muscle memory."

He gazed at her, at the sleepy, self-satisfied, confident smile curving her mouth. Somehow, his wife was more gorgeous now than he'd ever seen her before. "Sweet goddess of light, my body is yours, my instrument of worship – oh, fuck, Buffy!"

Number eight put a pause in the list. Spike lay on his back, one leg off the bed. "Remember when I said you could play with your birthday present as much as you liked, that you wouldn't break me?"

"Mm-hmm?" Her voice sounded like a purr as she sprawled across his chest.

"I think you broke me."

"Better not be broken. You know what number nine is."

He groaned. "The fig tree."

"You're smarter than you look."

"You know we're never going to make it to twenty."

"Yes, we will." She lifted her head to give him a challenging look. "And one to grow on."

⸹

February 2001

⸹

Xander kicked off his work boots and left them on the boot tray by the door. He shed his coat and hung it on the hooks above his boots. Wiggling his sock-covered toes, he breathed deeply. Their apartment smelled of warmth and baking food. It was nothing like his parents' house.

"Hun?" He didn't hear anything. Anya's little Mercedes coupe was in its place, and she usually didn't go anywhere by herself this close to dark. "An? You here?"

"In the kitchen."

His brows were drawn together as he leaned over where she sat at the table. Xander wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hair. "What's wrong?"

She jabbed at the papers on the table in front of her. "I had to do a bunch of training today."

He put out a hand and fanned through the stapled booklets. There was a lot of clip art of people shaking hands, and the word 'ethics' popped up continually. "Just something you have to do, right? It's good, Anya. You only have to do this because you won."

"No! It isn't good." She put her hand out and pulled one of the pamphlets closer.

"You, uh, didn't pass or something?" The title was 'Sexual Harassment in the Municipal Setting.'

"Oh, I passed. It's just, Xander," she twisted to look up at him, "apparently it isn't just boastful to talk about sex. It can be criminal!"

"Yes, to strangers and other people in the workplace, it can be. But you've gotten so good about knowing when you can and can't say things about your orgasms."

"I won't have a thing to talk about." She pulled free and stood up to pace. "Everyone knows best way to break the ice is to ask how someone is doing, orgasm-wise."

"That is true," he agreed, even as his tone hedged on it. "Ice can be completely shattered."

"I mean, I've kind of been out of the habit of making small talk, since asking for votes has been of greater importance, but now –"

"Anya," he said loudly. "Three things."

"What three things?" she asked, puzzled.

"Ask people if they have children. Ask if they play golf. Ask about their car."

She frowned. "I'm not interested in the first two at all."

Xander smiled and pulled her into his arms. "All right, it doesn't have to be those three. Here's two more. Ask about the last time they went to Sunnydale's lovely beaches." He took her hand and raised it, his eyes on her large, shiny engagement ring. "Ask about their wedding."

Anya nodded reluctantly. "Okay. But cars and beaches are nowhere near as good as sex."

He smiled down at her. "But weddings are?"

"If it leads to discussion of our wedding," she admitted grudgingly.

"There you go. You will once again be master of small talk."

"Mistress," she corrected. A private smile slid into place. "Speaking of… Dinner won't come out of the oven for another half hour. Want an appointment with Mistress Anya?"

"If she can fit me in," he agreed.

"Ooh," she breathed. "Excellent use of suggestive language."

⸹

"What about a spell?"

"I don't know, Wil." Buffy ran a hand through her hair. "How can that be ethical?"

"J-just a tracking spell," she said quickly. "Like a location spell. We've done those."

"But active all the time?" They were sitting on a couch in the back room of the Magic Box. Behind them, Tara was gathering herbs, books, and other things that needed restocking. She pushed her cart from between two shelves and leaned out so she could see them.

"Active all the t-time, b-but not m-monitored all the time."

"Oh." Buffy considered this as she picked at the remnants of her fast food. "I don't know. We don't know what kind of effect it might have on her – I mean, with something supernatural."

Tara looked thoughtful. "She's n-not." Making a check on her list, she rolled the cart into the open floor, pointing it toward the door.

Buffy stopped tracing the stub of a French fry through a blob of ketchup and looked over the couch to stare directly at her. "You can see?"

Tara looked down. "S-sometimes I can't not see. Green, mostly," she supplied.

Buffy nodded, remembering that the presence of green in an aura meant growth. That made sense for a teenager. "Still, I think in-person monitoring is safest."

"But hard to explain than magical tracking," Willow pointed out.

"I know," Buffy said glumly.

"Dawn!" Michael called from the counter at the front of the door. "Ask Tara if a special order for Teresa Quinn is in."

After a beat, the door opened. Dawn had a determined smile on her face. "Hey, guys. Tara, Michael…."

"I heard," Tara said dryly. She went back between the shelves and came out with a box. As she walked past Dawn with the special order, she gave her a little squeeze on the shoulder.

"Dawn Michelle Summers, were you eavesdropping?" Buffy asked. Then she frowned. "Why aren't you at dance practice?"

"I just got here," Dawn said defensively. "We waited around for, like, ten minutes, then Ms. Paul texted us that she was at the vet with her cat." She came in and snagged a French fry. "These are cold," she complained.

Buffy went still, realizing the time. "Crap." She grabbed her purse and checked her phone. "I gotta book. Class." She grabbed her bookbag, gathered up her wrappers, gave Willow a quick hug, then turned on Dawn. "You should have called."

"Uh." Dawn spread her arms and sounded put out. "It's all of two blocks from school, if you cut through the alleys. I could be here before I could finish calling. It's broad daylight. And I did text Mom that I was coming here."

Her sister gave her a hard look. "We'll talk."

"You'll talk," Dawn said sullenly. She met Willow's eyes. "Like she ever lets me talk."

"She'll listen," Willow said.

"Who are you going to track?" Dawn asked.

"Not eavesdropping, huh?" Willow looked nervous.

"It's Luisa, isn't it? Buffy doesn't trust that skank around her husband."

"Luisa isn't a skank," Willow said, grateful for the tangent.

"Huh," Dawn said with a good measure of disbelief. "She used to boink Dracula."

"Dawnie, how much choice do you think she had?"

The girl went still. "Oh."

"The first thing she did when Buffy killed him, was go back to Spain and see what had happened to her family and her boyfriend."

Dawn scooted closer. "Did she find them?"

"No."

"Or she wouldn't have come back here. Duh." Dawn added the self-directed insult.

"Come on," Willow said, standing up. "You must be starved. I know I always was after school. We'll walk over to the Expresso Pump and get a muffin or something."

"I can't," Dawn said glumly. "Mom made me promise to stay here until she closes the gallery."

"That's at six?" When Dawn nodded, she reached out and stroked her hair. "I'll go. You want anything to drink?"

Thirty minutes later, full of chocolate chip muffin, Dawn had turned one of the easy chairs to the wall so she could prop her feet on the wainscoting, read more of The Catcher in the Rye for English, and reach the cappuccino on the floor beside her. Willow, Tara, and Michael were in the front of the store. The door to the alley rattled, but Dawn could already hear British accents. She didn't bother moving, just threw an annoyed look at the door and scrunched down.

"…identify the Key, then we could remove it from Sunnydale." Aubrey Willingham was huffing a little as he followed Giles inside.

The younger Brit turned to check that the door had locked behind him. "Yes, well, it would be in just as much danger from Glory anywhere else."

"But, I'm telling you, man, there is a time constraint to this. We just identify it and keep it on the move until the time passes, Bob's your uncle. And if we don't, the Knights of Byzantium will show up, sooner or later."

The two men paused by the door into the shop. "And it's this May?"

"Yes, sometime in May. The calendars are terrifically confusing, but solidly in May. Early June, if my initial calculations are off, but I don't think they are."

"Perhaps if Buffy 'kills' her twice more…" Giles frowned, thinking of the amount of time it had taken Glory to show up between encounters with the Slayer.

"But wouldn't it be easier to deal with whatever the Key was transformed into, rather than with a mad god?"

"I'm not a betting man," Giles said acerbically.

There was a moment of silence. "If you know, Giles…."

"I've told you everything I can."

The careful wording didn't fool the other Watcher. "I can keep a secret," he said with dignity. "Even from the Council."

Giles rubbed at his forehead. "I trust you, Willingham. I respect you. I cannot tell you how relieved I am to have you here. If and when I have anything I can tell you, please believe that I will."

Willingham sniffed, a noise that somehow sounded both hurt and annoyed. "Does it have anything to do with that vampire?"

Giles sighed. "Nothing to do with Spike. Honestly, if you'd spend even a half hour with him –"

"And risk coming under his influence? I should say not."

From her unobserved spot, Dawn heard the door into the shop open, then close. She smiled a little; Mr. Willingham was skittish around Spike, which was just silly. She hadn't been afraid of Spike even when she was a little girl.

All of them were worried about Glory. She had really hurt Buffy at the reptile house; it had taken her sister almost four days to heal. And why would anyone need to steal a snake, anyway? Dawn checked her phone, frowned because no one had texted her for a couple of hours, and then started packing away her stuff. It was almost six; Mom would be here soon. She wondered what they would do for dinner. They didn't eat at the table as much as when Buffy lived at home.

Sometimes she missed her sister. Well, raiding her closet, mostly, but it was different now that she was married. Spike was different, too. Her mom said it was because they had a circle of shared experience or something, and told Dawn that it was like her friendship with Janice. No one else understood why the two of them were so tight.

She kind of got that. Her friends from the dance squad thought Janice was sort of a ho-bag; her art class friends never thought of Janice at all. Joyce thought she was a bad influence. But she and Janice had exactly the same sense of humor and spent most of their time cackling. When they were together, everything was funny. She felt more comfortable with Janice than anyone.

Or she had. Lately, Janice was not just talking about boys; she was spending time with boys. Kissing them, letting them touch her. Dawn hadn't been an equal the past couple of times she'd stayed all night with Janice. In a way, it was like being the little sister again.

Dawn's mouth tightened, and she hefted her bookbag and went into the shop. "Mom here yet?" she asked.

Giles froze, staring at her. "Dawn? Have you been here all along?"

"Uh, yeah." Why was he acting so weird?

"Hullo, dear," Mr. Willingham said. "And how was school today."

She gave him a little curtsy. "Very good, kind sir." She didn't try an English accent, just leaned on the politeness.

The old man beamed at her. "Would you like a butterscotch?"

"Sure." It killed her; he was an old man offering candy to kids. He had not one clue.

"Hey." Joyce came through the door, setting off the chime, and blinked a couple of times. "So this is where everyone is."

"No c-customers, either?" Tara asked.

Joyce grimaced and shook her head. "I'm putting romantic art in the windows for Valentine's Day tomorrow."

"I have t-too m-many classes tomorrow," Tara said, "but the day after, it's all red hearts."

Joyce took another step inside so she could put her arm around Dawn. "You hungry, sweetie?"

"A little." No way was she going to mention the muffin. She shot a reassuring look at Willow.

Giles came forward to give Joyce a light kiss goodbye, with a guilty glance toward Willingham. Joyce had a bake-at-home pizza in the Jeep already, so they headed to Revello Drive. Dawn told her mother what she knew about the veterinarian emergency that caused dance practice to be cancelled.

"I hope her cat is okay," Joyce said.

"Me, too."

"Giles is really worried about this Glory and Key stuff," Dawn said. She had gone from thinking of a cat in bandages to thinking of how badly Buffy had been hurt in her last fight with Glory.

"What?" Joyce turned to stare at her so sharply that she swerved the Jeep. She corrected smoothly, glanced at Dawn again, and said, "I mean, Rupert talked to you about that?"

Dawn's brows drew together. "No. I just overheard him talking to Mr. Willingham."

"What were they saying?"

"Nothing. They're just worried, is all."

Another troubled glance. "They shouldn't talk about… Slayer stuff in front of you."

"I knew she was the Slayer way before you did."

"I know, and I'm still not happy about that. I just want to spare you from the sort of things she's seen. That's all."

"Jeez, Mom, I wish you'd never found out Buffy is the Slayer. You know that the parent is supposed to let up on the youngest kid, right? You guys practically have me locked in a tower."

"We just worry, Dawn." She shot another look at her daughter. "I know what's out there now."

Half an hour later, Dawn was standing in front of the oven, watching the timer count off the last twenty seconds. "Pizza's done!" she called.

"Is your homework done?" Joyce winced, coming into the kitchen.

"Oh. Sorry. I thought you were upstairs." Dawn pushed the 'off' button, slid the pizza onto a large plate, and deftly got it to the counter. "Yup, all done. I read more Salinger this afternoon, so I'm ahead there."

"Your report isn't due until the end of the month?"

Dawn nodded, then turned to get a dinner plate for each of them. "Giles eating with Mr. Willingham again?" When her mother nodded, she scoffed. "Jake's, then. Must be nice, having an expense account."

"Rupert says that Aubrey is a creature of habit, that if there was a pub in Sunnydale, he would eat there every night."

"If we had an In-And-Out here in Sunnydale, I'd be a creature of habit, too."

After dinner, she and Joyce watched Gilmore Girls together on the couch. All the really good shows came on tomorrow; maybe she'd go over to Melinda's house to watch Boy Meets World.

It was after midnight when Dawn woke up and went to the bathroom. She was stumbling back to her room when she saw her mother's bedroom door was open. A chill of fear traced up her spine. "Mom?" she whispered, pushing the door all the way open. Joyce wasn't there.

She went downstairs. Joyce hadn't slept well before surgery, but she'd been almost normal since coming home. Maybe she was raiding the fridge. Dawn pushed open the kitchen door. As she was reaching for the light switch, she heard a murmur of voices. Her mom was on the back porch with… Giles?

Dawn left the light off and went forward on bare, silent feet. She leaned against the side of the door, listening. She didn't know why she wanted to eavesdrop, or why she so often did. Maybe it went back to those loud, frightening days before the divorce, checking to see what kind of mood her parents were in.

"…over by May or early June at the latest."

"You don't mean… she'll just disappear?" Dawn frowned; Glory just disappearing would be about the best thing that could happen. Why would Joyce be upset about that?

"No, of course not. I never even thought – She's real."

"Yes, she is," Joyce said fiercely.

"I wouldn't have mentioned this if I'd thought it through," Giles said. "I never want to upset you."

Joyce sniffled. "But there won't be a threat, after June?"

"I-I worry that there will always be a threat. Especially if Buffy can't defeat her, once and for all."

"My little girl can't fight a god, Rupert."

"She shouldn't be able to – she shouldn't have to – but she has, Joyce. Twice. Buffy's extraordinary. I haven't read all the Watcher Diaries, but I've yet to find any Slayer who has done even a fraction of what she's managed to accomplish. No wonder they sent her to us."

Joyce's voice was small. "But look at the cost. Something inside me just broke when Xander told me about the Master." She sniffled again. "I can't lose either of them."

"We'll find a way. We always do. And Buffy isn't alone. She couldn't have a more powerful, more dedicated team of bodyguards."

"She hates it, you know."

Giles sighed. "And I guess this is my cue to ask permission to put a tracking spell on her. Willow's idea. N-not to monitor all the time, but… just in case."

After a long time, Joyce sighed. "Okay."

Rupert pulled her close and kissed her brow. "You aren't a bad mum, Joyce. I know what you're thinking, but you most certainly are not."

Cold and afraid, Dawn turned and left the kitchen. Back in her bed, she curled into a ball under the covers. Dread had congealed like stone in her chest, much as it had when her mom was so sick. Words you could never say – is my mom going to die? – in case saying them gave them power.

The question was a different one now: were you talking about me?

Friday passed in a haze. The Razorbacks were already out of the basketball playoffs, and the dance squad didn't have another performance until opening day of baseball. She turned down her friends' offers to hang. Dawn told them she wasn't feeling very good, and they believed her.

Back in her room, she stared at herself in the mirror of her little vanity. Mom thought she looked a little ill, had felt her forehead. Maybe that was it, maybe this was all a fever dream. Because it was crazy.

She'll just disappear? She's real. No wonder they sent her to us. Permission to put a tracking spell on her. The way her Mom had nearly driven off the road when she mentioned Glory and the Key.

It was crazy to think that it had anything to do with her.

Unless your sister was the Slayer and vampires were real and you lived on a Hellmouth.

Dawn stared into her blue eyes, not blinking, for a long time.

On Saturday, she was good as gold, sunny and sweet. Mom made waffles, getting out the waffle iron that flipped over, squeezing fresh orange juice for them both. Her mother loved her. She went to the Magic Box and helped Tara decorate the store. She pinned hearts to the window and her helper both. Tara loved her. Willow was there as well. Every time the door chimed, the fingers of her right hand stiffened, and the person who came in got a careful examination. Willow loved her.

Anya and Xander came by with lunch. Xander, who had been acting sort of strange last month, was his usual self, goofing around with her, imitating Dracula by tucking two French fries into his upper lip and speaking in a bad Transylvanian accent. Xander loved her. Anya spent most of the visit talking with Tara and referring to her notebook. Anya might not love her, but she was fond of her.

The afternoon belonged to Spike. He rolled in, gliding like a predator, lifted her with casual vampire strength and spun them both around in a circle until she felt she would throw up from either laughter or centrifugal force. He'd insisted that she learn how to defend herself, and had been giving her personal lessons for three months now. Today he taught her how to step, to never lunge and get off balance. Then he pulled her onto one of the couches, pulled her against his chest, and asked how her week had been. She'd nearly lost the mask then. Spike loved her.

But she kept calm and asked how his week had been, how many hours of flight time he lacked, where the Scooby meeting would be tonight, what Buffy was up to this afternoon. A little later, Spike looked up and said that Buffy was there. She watched him go, hearing the chime of the door as her sister arrived, but not seeing it. Dawn was too busy hiding a tape recorder under the couch. The Scooby meeting was going to be right here.

Buffy was with Giles, but she wanted to go to get coffee and doughnuts. Dawn asked to go with her. They walked by the gallery and knocked on one of the big front windows, making Joyce jump and laugh at them. On the way back, Buffy carrying the coffees and Dawn carrying the doughnuts, her sister asked why Dawn hadn't been hanging with Janice much. Dawn told her. Buffy explained that sometimes friends didn't stay as close, that it was natural and normal to drift away from some friends and grow closer to different people. She also said that both Dawn and Janice were too young for anything but kissing. Buffy used the Voice of Experience, much the same way she had went she told Dawn it was okay not to win homecoming princess as a freshman, that it was better to win as a sophomore.

Her sister loved her.

Giles took the doughnuts from her and gave her a distracted smile. He pilfered through the cups until he found the simple black coffee he'd ordered, then went back to the book he was reading. A few minutes later, when Dawn looked over at him, he was staring at her with a haunted expression on his face. He quickly made it into a reassuring one. She could tell he was worried. Giles loved her.

So she moaned about missing out on everything because she was trapped with her stupid family, took both of the chocolate-covered, cream-filled doughnuts, and made a disparaging remark about Willow's sweater. She didn't want to overdo the sunny Dawn act.

Joyce was there just a few minutes past six, the gallery closed for the night. She pulled Dawn close and suggested Chinese food tonight. Dawn told her mother that sounded fine, she just needed to get her purse. She went into the back room to get it, turning on the old-fashioned tape recorder as she bent over. The tape would hold 120 minutes, but without her being there to flip it over, it would only get an hour. She hoped it was enough.

Thirty seconds after Joyce's Jeep pulled away from the curb, the group of people slumped. Spike went to the couch and came back with the tape recorder. He clicked it off. "Does she know or just suspect?"

Buffy closed her eyes, near tears. "I've always said she got the brains in the family." She took his hand gratefully when Spike came to her.

"We have to tell her," Giles said.

"H-how c-could anyone wr-wrap their head around that?" Tara asked helplessly.

"We'll just have to be there for her." Xander was hunched in on himself, though. He hated emotional scenes.

"With any luck," Anya said, putting a hand on Xander's sleeve, "she'll have a good dose of demon practicality."

"She isn't a demon," Giles snapped. "She's just a little girl."

"Anya didn't mean it that way," Spike said.

"Let's give them time to eat," Buffy said, picking up the burden of command. "We'll go over and tell her after. Anybody want to patrol instead?"

"No." Willow looked around at everyone else. "She'll need all of us, needs to know we all love her, no matter what."

"I agree." The Slayer wiped her palms down the side of her pants. "Giles, would you get the results of the DNA and blood tests? I-it might help."

It did not help, and the end of the secrecy could hardly have gone worse. Dawn went up the stairs at a gallop, the slamming of her bedroom door punctuating her parting, "I don't care if you love me! It's not real! I don't love any of you!"

The group of stunned Scoobies stayed where she left them. Xander slumped back against the couch cushions, his hand covering his eyes. Anya moved close to him, nearly wrapping herself around him. Giles crouched down next to Joyce's chair, both of them with wet faces.

"Sh-she n-needs time alone." Tara wiped her face.

Willow, who had held her more than once last fall as she worked through who she was without her family, leaned in and gave her a kiss. "Tara's right."

Joyce stood up. "I'll go check on her in a few minutes." She sniffed and daubed at her eyes. When she tried to hand the handkerchief back to Giles, he gave her a watery smile and shook his head.

Buffy and Spike were both on the floor, sitting near the spot Dawn had been. Now the Slayer stood up. "Thanks for coming, guys. I know we all hoped it would end with a big group hug…" She trailed off.

Anya, her arm still around Xander, stood up, pulling him with her. "I think we'll head home. See you guys tomorrow."

Willow's eyes were on her best friend. Xander wasn't even trying to hide behind a joke. Buffy's family was the most functional one they knew, much warmer than her own family. She tugged on Tara's hand, and they followed them to the porch.

Buffy went to her mother, holding out her arms. Giles took a couple of steps away, realized where he was, and propped an elbow on the mantelpiece. Spike joined him.

"I have a cousin who was adopted," Giles said. His voice was rough. "His parents never told him, and he found out when he was eighteen." He shook his head at the memory. "It took him four or five years before he wanted to see them again. All those lost years, and there never was a reason for secrecy." He shook his head. "The monks should have built in… this knowledge."

Spike shook his head. "They were going for secrecy."

Giles' clenched his teeth. "This has hurt her so much."

Spike watched his eyes bounce upward, toward Dawn's room. If he hadn't already loved the man, this would have done it. "This will be the last time," he rasped, putting his hand behind Giles' neck and bringing their foreheads together, "anything ever hurts our girl."

"Damn right," the Watcher managed, pulling away and wiping his face.

Spike's phone went off. "Bugger," he muttered. He pulled it from his jeans pocket and checked the number. "Go."

"I'm following Buffy's sister."

Spike's eyes went to the same place on the ceiling Giles had focused on. "How long?"

"A minute ago."

"You couldn't stop her?"

"Not without using force, sir." There was the noise of movement as Luisa jumped from one building to another. "She is feeling a lot of pain."

"Yeah, bad night here at her mum's."

"I'll let you know where she goes."

"Keep her safe. Stay on the line, keep me updated on location."

"Yes, sir."

Spike lowered his phone, shaking his head. "Joyce? Buffy?" Once he had their attention, he turned back to Giles. "Dawn went out the window. Luisa is tailing her."

"Oh, no," Joyce breathed.

Several emotions crossed the Slayer's face, then smoothed into businesslike calm. "Let's go." She met her husband's eyes. It had been long enough since Buffy beheaded the god for her to regenerate, based on the absence after the factory collapsed on her.

Anya and Xander were already gone, but Willow and Tara were just getting into Willow's Camry. Buffy told them the news. Giles didn't waste time, just went to Joyce's Jeep and maneuvered around the other cars in the driveway, waiting for the Summers at the curb.

"Bit know anyone who lives on Memorial?" Spike asked, lowering the phone a couple of minutes later.

Joyce shook her head. "There's no stores out that way." She turned to look at the two warriors in the back seat. "There's the hospital. Do you think she's hurt?"

Spike shook his head, reassuringly. "Lu would have said."

"She's going to the hospital," Buffy stated.

Spike watched his wife close her eyes. "Why would she go there?"

"The crazy people. Remember, they saw that she isn't…" She couldn't finish the sentence. Giles goosed the accelerator. Joyce called Tara's number; the witches were following in Willow's car.

"Basement," Buffy said, opening her door before Giles finished parking.

Spike followed her, leaving the humans to keep up as well as they could. Buffy hurdled a shape on the floor on the central basement corridor. Spike realized it was Luisa; did not stop.

"What's wrong with you?" They heard Dawn's sharp question in a room at the end of the hall.

"Let go of my sister!" Buffy never stopped, just plowed into Glory. At her heels, Spike grabbed Dawn and shoved her gently as he could toward the door. "Run!" he urged, meeting her eyes for a half-second. He turned to snatch the god from the floor, holding her up by an arm and slamming her head into a locker.

Buffy was back on her feet and took the opportunity to get several solid hits in. Spike took a glancing kick from Glory to his shin. "Thought you were supposed to be tough," he sneered.

Glory got one foot on the floor and pushed away from him, righting herself against the dented lockers. Her fist shot out, and Spike went flying into the opposite wall headfirst. Glory brushed her dress into place and shifted to face the Slayer. "Tell your boyfriend to watch his mouth."

"Stay," Buffy jabbed her left fist into Glory's eye, "away," followed by her right, "from my," an uppercut that had ended fights with Thanoss demons, "family!"

Glory caught the last punch in the combination, a left cross. She twisted her hand, and Buffy went down to keep her wrist from snapping. Before Glory could say or do anything else, Tara darted forward and blew a powder toward Glory, coating her side in it.

"Uhh," Glory said, disgusted, letting go of the Slayer to swat at her dress.

Tara turned, her hands meeting Willow's, and a burst of magic blew outward from them. The god disappeared. For a moment, the locker room was so quiet, they could hear a drip from the nearby showers.

Buffy got to her feet, going to her husband without taking her eyes from the place Glory had been. "What did you do?"

Tara was supporting Willow, whose nose was bleeding profusely. "We teleported her," the redhead said weakly.

"Where?" Giles asked, going to squat next to Buffy. In the doorway, Joyce took Dawn into her arms.

"Uh…" Tara shrugged.

"Somewhere that's else." Willow tilted her head backwards.

"Good," Giles said. He spared a look over his shoulder at Dawn and Joyce, then turned his attention back to the witches. "Excellent work, both of you."

Buffy was staring fixedly at her husband. After a moment, his eyelashes fluttered. She let out a breath. "There you are."

"Hey." The word was heavy and slurred. Then Spike's eyes flew open. "Dawn." He began pushing his body upright.

"She's fine," Giles said. "Joyce has her."

"I was so worried," Joyce whispered. Her cheek was pressed against Dawn's head, but her shocked eyes roamed the locker room. She heard stories, but never really saw the aftermath of her daughter's fights.

"I'm sorry," Dawn said, muffled by Joyce's blouse and her own sobs.

Buffy helped Spike to his feet. There was a smudge of blood on the circle of crushed cinderblock behind him. The Slayer said a silent prayer of thanks for the Gem of Amara as she slid an arm around his waist.

"Why did you run off like that? You know you're in danger, honey."

"I'm sorry," she said again. "I just wanted... The crazy people, they… They saw what I am, Mom."

Joyce shook her head. "I see what you are. You're my baby." They were both crying now.

"How can you say that?" Dawn pulled away, her eyes red and her face splotchy. "I mean, I'm not real."

"Yes, you are." Joyce smoothed hair from her brow.

"You and Dad never had any other kids besides Buffy. She's all you wanted." Behind them, Buffy turned her face away.

"I did want more children," Joyce said firmly. "After Celia died, we were too afraid." Dawn stared up at her mother. "I always wanted… you," Joyce finished, her voice breaking.

Spike slipped free from his wife and pushed her toward her family. Giles saw and offered his support in the Slayer's stead.

"Dawnie?" Buffy said, her voice thick with tears. "I think about how lonely it must have been for us, without you, just the two of us at holidays, or for Mom once I went to college. I'm glad you're here. I love you."

With another sob, Dawn went into her sister's arms, willing to accept this now in a way she hadn't at the house. Spike put a hand on Giles' chest, then walked away. He hugged Joyce as he went by, then knelt by Luisa. His lieutenant was still out cold. Tara and Willow had slipped out, too, wanting to give the Summers ladies some privacy.

"Tara? Reckon you can find where the blood bags are stored? If you could get three or four, I'd appreciate it."

"I'll just wait here," Willow said wanly. She'd found some napkins in the break room. Now she slid down the wall, pressing the makeshift compress to her nose.

Spike shifted his body between hers and Luisa's, in case she woke hungry. He had no link of family blood to rouse her and didn't want to move her without knowing how she'd been hit. While he waited, he looked over his shoulder. Giles had joined Joyce, taking her in a loose embrace, both of them watching over the two sisters. His Little Bit was going to be all right.

⸹

"Would you care for a butterscotch?" Aubrey asked, drawing a handful from his jacket pocket.

Dawn blinked back tears. For the past couple of days, almost any kindness or even a normal reaction to her presence had set her off. "Thank you, kind sir."

The portly man gave her a smile that wasn't at all absent. "How was your first day back at school?" Giles had told him everything on Sunday. Dawn had stayed at home on Monday, but gone to classes this morning.

"It was okay." She was subdued. "I didn't get behind or anything." She looked over at Buffy. "Ms. Paul's cat died."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Was it old?"

"Yeah, she said she'd had it since she was ten."

"Wow."

"We never had any pets, did we?" Dawn had started to double-check her memories.

"No," Buffy assured her.

"Because Dad has allergies."

Her sister nodded, then went to the door to check on where Tara and Willow were. The meeting was in the back room of the Magic Box, all hands on deck, everyone except the other members of the coven. While Willow and Tara trusted Michael and Jonathan, Andrew couldn't be trusted to be discreet, so they decided to keep out all the rest.

Spike and Luisa were the last to show up, coming in through the alley door. Preoccupied, Spike held the door for his lieutenant. Buffy's eyes sharpened. He was usually pretty good about performing his role as Master in public. She met his eyes as he came to sit next to her, and her shoulders slumped a little as he gave her the latest news.

Giles started the meeting. "Do we have enough chairs? Good, then." He let out a breath. "Thank you all for being here. Aubrey, Luisa, and, especially, Dawn, I know you've had a lot to absorb since the last meeting. As there truly is no one else who needs to know what we know about the Key, I ask that you keep this confidence." He turned to the female vampire. "First, Luisa, if you would tell what you saw at the hospital…?"

She had chosen the folding chair closest to the back door and was obviously uncomfortable. "I followed Dawn into the hospital, saw her go into a ward for the insane. She came out with a doctor she seemed to know. He mentioned calling her mother or sister, so I didn't intervene, just watched from the hallway. He made her hot chocolate in the break room, then he became a woman. I recognized her from the Slayer's description." Luisa's eyes went to the floor. "I failed to… separate her from Dawn." She sent a look toward the girl, sitting beside her mother and Giles. "I'm sorry."

Dawn shook her head. "It was my own fault for being there." She frowned. "Ben – that's the doctor – Ben became Glory?"

Luisa frowned for a moment – this had happened while Dawn watched – but she nodded. "It was, um…" she searched for an English word, "it was not hard for her to do. Very quick. She didn't like the clothes he wore and found a dress in one of the lockers. I do not know what happened to his body."

"I called the hospital to ask for Ben," Giles said, breaking the silence. "They said he wasn't there."

"No body," Willow said. "I checked the morgue records."

"Anything else?" Giles asked, ready to move on.

"Yes," she said, surprising him. "In the park on the south side, there is an encampment of eight knights."

"Legion Street Park," Spike supplied.

Aubrey let out a sigh. "The Knights of Byzantium."

"I take it that we're not having a Renaissance fair," Xander said.

"No," Giles said. He took a moment to reach behind Dawn's shoulders to touch Joyce. "The Knights of Byzantium are the opposite number, if you will, of the monks in the Order of Dagon. Instead of protecting the Key, they've sworn to destroy it."

Buffy went to the heart of the matter. "Humans?"

Giles nodded. "Humans. They wouldn't want anything supernatural to, er, pollute their crusade."

"Hard to take them seriously," Spike said. "We're talking state of the art armor and weaponry from the sixteenth century."

"Knights were incredible warriors," Aubrey warned, "but I have to agree that I would be warier of an enemy who kept up with the technology in their field."

Giles gave him a piercing look. "Enemy?"

Aubrey nodded. "Obviously."

The younger Watcher didn't smile at his declaration of loyalty, but the tension around his eyes eased. "Good, then." He turned to Buffy and Spike. "How would you like to deal with this?"

Buffy let out a breath. "They're human. Basically, I'd like to get them out of town somehow."

Luisa spoke up. "I listened enough to know that they are tracking the insane people." She nodded toward Dawn. "We should not have any contact with them, the ones in the hospital, I mean."

"I won't," the teenager promised. "They were kind of scary."

"Good." Spike caught his lieutenant's eye. "Keep an eye on the knights, four or five times a night." She nodded in reply.

Giles leaned forward and let out a sigh. "Anyone want more coffee? A break? Aubrey has the floor next."

"I could use one," Anya said.

Dawn took the opportunity to go to Luisa, thank her, and ask how she was feeling. She didn't stay long, because the lieutenant was just too beautiful and too vampiric for her to feel comfortable around her. She hadn't warmed up to Cordelia for a long time, either. Dawn supposed the monks had made her insecure.

"Hey, Bit. How are you doing?"

"All right. It's all weird, I guess." She snuggled against him, feeling safe with the familiar smell of bay rum soap and leather nearby. "I was just looking at myself in the mirror this weekend. I think I have your eyes."

"Do you, now?" Spike studied her. After a moment, he gave her a small, happy smile.

"Yuh-huh. No one else in the family has blue eyes. Dad's are brown."

"Okay, then." He gave her a one-armed hug, then propelled her toward her space by Joyce. "Looks like we're ready to start again."

It had taken remarkably little time for restroom stops and coffee refills before the group gathered on the chairs and couches again. "Right, then," Aubrey said, clearing his throat.

"Do all British people say that?" Xander asked Willow in a quiet voice.

She gave him a quick grin. "All of ours do."

"I've spent all my time since I've been in Sunnydale studying what little is known about Glorificus and the Key she's searching for. The last couple of days, I've turned my study to what is known of magical transformation or transmutation. I'll try to bring this together in as ordered a fashion as I can, but I fear there are too many unknowns. I have what I believe to be the correct narrative, given my extensive reading now and, really, throughout my career. I will, of course, be clear as to what is known and what is conjecture."

He harrumphed and took breath. "From the wreckage of the monastery after Glorificus, er, left, the Council obtained some remaining written records. The Order of Dagon was founded in the twelfth century with the purpose of protecting the Key. It isn't clear if the Key existed before then. I expect that it did, but I don't believe it existed on earth. This is conjecture, but… I don't believe the Key was made by humans, if it was in fact made at all. If humans had a way of going to another world using a Key, that would be in our fables. Finally, and this is complete conjecture… I think that some outsider used the Key to come here. That's how it came to earth." He looked around. "Questions? Suggestions?"

"What was going on in the eleven hundreds?" Giles asked.

"The Crusades began," Willow said immediately.

"Calculus was developed in India," Buffy said. "Do not ask me how I remember that."

"Oxford began, roughly," Spike said.

"How did you know that?" Aubrey asked, his voice sharp.

"Christ Church for history," Giles answered. Spike glared at him.

"S-southern Song dynasty in China and the first Shogun in Japan," Tara mused.

Willingham pulled his stunned gaze from the blond vampire. "Uh, yes, I actually did look to see if any 'great man' made his imprint, but nothing truly stands out." He nodded at the Slayer. "Unless it was Bhaskara, I don't really see anyone of genius."

"Saladin?" Luisa noted.

"Possible," he said grudgingly.

"What if I – I mean, what if the Key came here by itself?" Dawn asked. "I mean, this world is pretty cool."

Everyone fell silent. After a moment, Aubrey said, "Hmm. If you are all ready to move on…?" Where the old Watcher had addressed the group in general before, now he spoke to Dawn. "From the remnants of the Dagon records, the energy can be seen by people in altered states as green and glowing. No physical form, no indication of sentience. However, it was not stored in any kind of battery or glass case or ever transformed, though the monks worked through the centuries to perfect their spells. It seemed… content to remain at the monastery.

"From Bohemia to the Czech Republic, those lands saw a great deal of upheaval. Even for a Catholic institution, the monastery seems to have been remarkably immune to power struggles. There was a poem composed by a seventeenth century monk about the 'shield of green' that dwelled in the apple orchard."

"Are you saying that the Key… protected the monks?"

"I am not saying that," Aubrey said firmly, "because if it did happen, the Key was also protecting itself. The fact that it is here is testament that it needs protection."

"It may not have protected the monastery from a direct attack," Spike said, his words slow as he thought them out, "but it may have made the monastery… less of a target for accidental attack."

Aubrey looked uncomfortable. "Perhaps. It's possible that the Key may have opened a portal and displaced the monastery when armies threatened… but we don't have any indication of sentience."

"It wasn't restrained," Willow pointed out, "yet it stayed there, as if it understood that it was safe."

"Also possible." Willingham had a sip from his teacup. "The Key, of itself, is neither good nor evil."

"That's what Glory said." Everyone turned to Dawn when she spoke, making her press into her mother's side. "I asked."

"Oh, sweetie," Joyce said sorrowfully, kissing her brow.

"This is what is known," Aubrey said. "I'm going to move into conjecture again. While the Key isn't good or bad, I believe that it does not want to be used."

"Which implies sentience," Giles said.

Willingham lifted a hand. "Or resilience. 'The Key' is a dimensional key, not a unique... well, not an object, but an entity, perhaps, referenced in a few demon texts. They open portals between dimensions. Some openings they fit. Others, they do not fit… but they will open a portal… destroying the key in the process."

"Shit." No one added anything to Xander's short statement.

Sighing, Aubrey spoke directly to Dawn again. "What I'm about to say is not provable, but it's my sense of what seems most likely to be correct. I believe the Key came to earth and was content to remain hidden. I believe that Glorificus was banished here much more recently. The Key is not hers, was never hers, but she became aware of it. I don't think that she sensed the Key; there may be other players of whom we are unaware. And, there is a deadline for her to use the Key.

"Just a couple more things before I address that. The first is a quick introduction to dimensions, as I understand them. Dimensions should perhaps be called realities, because this has less to do with physics than metaphysics. So, philosophers and mathematicians believe there are untold numbers of realities." Buffy met Spike's eyes, and Giles was watching them. "Some would be very similar to our own – the classic example these days would be, what if the Axis won World War II?"

"The example I always use is the world without shrimp," Anya said. "Otherwise, it's just like this one."

Aubrey blinked, then went on. "Others would be close to earth but have different physical laws, allowing for gods and creatures that are mythical here. Others are hell dimensions, still understandable to us.

"Other realities are not connected to earth. I believe Glorificus comes from one that is not… nearby, not in distance, but perhaps in the physical sense, the laws of the universe. In May, our world and hers will be somehow close, I think."

"Will they be close again?" Willow asked.

The old man looked down, creating a double chin. "Yes. In several hundred years."

"So we need to take care of her now," Buffy said, "because I'm not getting any younger."

"Indeed." Giles shifted on the couch, easing his neck.

"T-trying to f-f-fit this K-key into Gl-gl-gl…" Tara grimaced and looked down, clearly upset.

Aubrey interrupted gently. "It would not be a good fit, I don't believe." He took a breath. "So, last thing, Miss Dawn, and the part I think you'll be most interested in." Aubrey shifted his bulk to reach for his teacup again.

"Transmutation using magic is permanent. It cannot be undone."

The statement had less of an impact than he expected. "I transform to and from vampire face," Luisa said, frowning.

"Yes, but that is different from transmutation. You remain you; your molecules are the same." He turned back to Dawn. "What the monks did in creating you is permanent. You will never be in the form of energy again."

"Th-that's good," Dawn said. Her tone almost made it a question.

"I do not know what it means," he said, shrugging and giving her a smile. "I do know that alchemists could transform material into gold, but it always reverted. That's where the myth of leprechaun gold comes from. Alchemists could transform but never transmute lead into gold. The monks worked, I believe, under the aegis of prophecy. They knew the Key would have to be transmuted into matter someday in order to keep it safe."

"Why not into a chair or something?" Anya asked.

Aubrey pointed a finger at her. "Excellent question. A pebble, for instance, would be indistinguishable from billions of other pebbles. But the monks did not do that."

Spike looked at Dawn. "They wanted to give the Key agency."

"I believe they did."

"What was the prophecy?" Giles voice was full of dread.

"There was nothing written down. There were no missing records. I think it was entirely an oral tradition, and now lost." Willingham shrugged. "Much as you have no more prophecies about your Slayer, Rupert."

"That's… overwhelming." He scrubbed his hands over his face.

Spike, however, was smiling, looking at Dawn. "They gave us another brilliant, stubborn Summers lady." Something in him had loosened when the old Watcher said the change was permanent.

Dawn shook her head. "I don't want to be prophecy girl."

"I don't want Dawn to be prophecy girl," Buffy said flatly, "known or unknown."

Willingham shook his head. "Don't you see? The monks probably could not have done this until the last few decades. They must have had biology and medical degrees as well as a solid understanding of magic and metaphysics. You are exactly who you think you are; only the fact that the monks wanted to do their very best by you kept you from being sent to your family before."

Giles looked away from the hopeful look on Dawn's face. She could never have been sent to the Summers before Buffy became the Slayer. Even the Council couldn't pinpoint which girl would be Chosen. And the Key went to the Slayer, not to Joyce.

Xander was smiling now. "The fact that they made Dawn instead of an anonymous pebble points toward Dawn having something to do after we end Glory. So… Dawn survives."

"I do tend to think her form is… reassuring," Aubrey agreed. "And, unstable though Glorificus is, she must surely understand that killing a living Key would destroy the Key. It's another layer of safety." He gave Dawn a kindly smile. "She wouldn't kill her chance to open a portal."

"It will never come to that." Buffy made the statement in a flat tone.

"Quite," the old Watcher said. He focused on her little sister. "There are all sorts of additional things – fables about gods changing mortals permanently into animals, Vilenkin's theory, Murgbad's journals – which I've referenced. If you ever want to know more, I will be happy to share what I've found."

Dawn nodded. She looked very young and made no move to get up.

"Are you exhausted, too?" Joyce asked.

She looked up at her mother. "I am. Can we go home now?"

"Let's." Joyce gave her a little smile and stood up.

Giles and Willow had patrol, and Anya and Xander were going to Los Angeles early the next day to try to lure businesses to Sunnydale at a restauranteur's convention. The group said their good nights. Spike asked Luisa to show him the knights, and Buffy promised Tara she would lock the back door so that, in the end, only she and Willingham were left.

"You have questions?" he guessed.

"I do. What happens to the Key if," she took a breath, "if Dawn dies?"

"It ceases to exist." He shrugged. "I am not an expert on belief about the afterlife. Possibly the power of the Key is entwined with her soul, so it could survive that way. But it won't leave her body like a-a parasite, because that's not how she was constructed. Again, transmutation is permanent."

Buffy nodded, finding this comforting. "What if Glory does… use the Key?"

He looked at her until he began speaking, then looked at the door behind her. "To use the Key now, in this form, for this purpose, I think that it would have to be a bloodletting. Even with a Key, to bridge the distance between our reality and her very alien world, the portal would have to be… ripped or slashed. I am not sure if it could be closed, or of how much of our world would be contaminated by the contact. Or perhaps a lot of worlds would have doorways opened, like shoving a pencil through a ream of paper."

"A bloodletting?" Buffy echoed, her voice a whisper, focusing on one word. It was always about blood.

"If it opened with the first drop," he said, putting a gentle hand on her shoulder, "it could only close with the last drop. Jamming a Key into the wrong door would break it, and until the last pieces of the Key were cleared from the lock, it couldn't shut again."

⸹

Willow waited until Tara finished rinsing her hair and pivoted in the shower to get the suds off her face. She slid her arms around her girlfriend's waist and buried her nose in the wet strands. Tara groped blindly for a towel to dry her eyes, then turned in Willow's arms, giving her a kiss.

It was late. They'd spent a languid hour in bed, talking and making love, before showering. Willow had an early class. She was sleepy and let Tara help shampoo her hair, feeling so relaxed that she wasn't sure she'd have enough energy to towel off.

She did, of course, was even awake enough to realize that Tara wasn't quiet because she was sleepy, too. "What's going on in there?" she murmured after they were back in bed. She stroked Tara's forehead.

"I k-keep thinking about those poor people in the basement at the hospital," she said, lifting a shoulder and giving a smile that was almost apologetic. "I wish there was s-something I could do for them, make them whole again."

"Buffy is pretty sure that Glory fed from them, somehow."

"Then whatever she took from them, mind or spirit, it's consumed."

"Maybe not." Willow hated to see Tara sad. "Maybe there's something still there. Or maybe it's something that can be… regrown." She smoothed Tara's damp hair. "I can see why you changed your major from nursing."

"I hate to see anything in pain," Tara acknowledged.

"I wish I was half the mensch you are."

"Well… mensch-ette, maybe." Before Willow could explain, she put a fingertip to her lips. "I know what you meant. But you're one, too." She replaced her finger with her lips for a kiss. "You're amazing, sweetheart."

"Yeah, but you just get people."

"I am so bad with other people," Tara disagreed.

"No. I mean, I know you're on my wavelength, and not everybody has that wavelength, but I mean… You just have so much love for other people."

"It's not so much me," Tara said, "as it is having magic."

Willow studied her, her brows drawing together. "I-I'm not sure what you mean."

"You know, how magic is life, springs from life. I'm part of the same… m-matrix or web or whatever, so I can have kindness for others, because they're part of me."

She could see that, see Tara bound by light to everyone and every living thing in the world, and Willow's lips parted. "You are incredibly beautiful," she breathed.

It was Tara's turn to have a drawn brow. "You don't feel that?"

Willow shook her head, a sad look on her face. "I wish I'd been born with magic, like you. Mine came – well, you know, late, from the spirit of a long-ago gypsy, as best I can tell. All the rest has been… study."

"What does your magic feel like to you?"

"Power," Willow said immediately. "Literally, like energy." She looked a little worried. "What about you?"

"Warmth," Tara said after a moment's thought. "Wh-which is also energy, just," she shrugged, "not as much as you." The light was out, and she could barely see her girlfriend. "Wil, if I research something for those people at the hospital, if I find something… Would you help me help them? I don't think I'd have enough magic."

"Of course I would," Willow said. "You and me, together… What can't we do?"

⸹

Next Chapter: Glory can take the Slayer's people at will, but the big problem is Ben.