"What is it?" asked Dawn worriedly.

Giles shook his head. Rubbed the paper to see a little more in the musty yellow. Blowed on it, and could finally manage to see the rest of what it was saying. Dawn handed the book and the paper over to him, as she was still holding it. A wrinkle appeared in her forehead as she tried to read what was on there. Reading upside down had never been an easy feat. The Watcher noticed her struggling to read it, and instructed her to go sit down.

Dawn clenched her teeth, gritting them slowly, and definitely not enjoying the feel of enamel rubbing off in little chunks. "I want to see it, Giles. If this is about my sister-turned-Vampire, then I have to know. Come on." She stared at him insistently.

He slowly started translating the old scarlet words in his head, pausing for just a moment to mull things over. How could he tell the girl? He'd have to know what she had done first.

"Dawn? What exactly did you do when you tried to resurrect Buffy?" Giles asked, trying to stay calm and not yell at the young girl. How could she have b- oh. Right. He would have done the same if he were her. After all, she was made from her sister, how could not have? How could he have left her with *Spike*, of all peo- Vampires, he corrected himself.

The brunette crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the wooden book shelves. Stared at her feet. "You'll get mad at me if I tell you everything that happened."

"I won't get mad. You have my word. But you have to tell me- because if you did what's in this book, then..." his voice trailed off, leaving Dawn to finish it for him in her head.

Her voice was shaky, and she just felt dizzy all around. "I put my blood in Buffy's wrist. I thought that if I had enough energy left to do this, then she'd have some energy. And it wasn't working and Spike told me to stop but I couldn't, Giles. And then Spike looked at her for a long, long time and started crying an-"

Giles stopped her suddenly, his mouth almost in an agape manner. "He did what?"

"He was crying. He was holding her hand and crying."
"Was it the hand that was cut?"
"Yes," Dawn replied shakily. "Is that bad?"
"Well, if he had just eaten, then yes. Were his tears bloody?"

"I don't know. I can't remember because I don't want to remember. Can we please just stake her?" Dawn asked urgently. She knew it was horrible to think that way, but she wouldn't be able to live with Buffy like that. Evil all the time, killing Willow and Tara and Xander and Giles and Anya and maybe even Spike. Buffy made her life a living hell before she was a vampire. And now....

Giles glanced down at the paper again. He pointed at it, telling Dawn, "That's not such a good idea. What this paper is saying is that this 'Triangle' is a balance between three- sort of a resurrection. One is a mediator- a balance between good and evil and can be both, at times. A gray, if you wish to call it that. One- is evil. Fights for the darkness. And one- is good and completely pure, is good to the core. And if these good and evil forces are combined in the Mediator- he/she/it will have a Split- meaning it shall have two faces- one good and one bad. The Mediator is used to balance out the Universe, and usually this sort of ritual is used before an Apocalypse, usually to prevent it."

"So who's good, who's bad, who's the Mediator?" asked Dawn, glad to be off the subject of her dead sister. She felt like she would burst into tears just thinking about it.

"Well, according to this, Buffy must be the Mediator. So Spike must have put some of his blood into Buffy accidentally. He is the evil one, you are the good one. That is the Balance, or the Triangle."

"Okay, no. I'm sorry, Giles, but I can't be part of a Triangle. I suck at geometry," Dawn said feebly. Oh god. Oh no. "I just resurrected my sister. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no," was all her brain could process.

Giles looked almost helpless. Why was he so sad? He was just her Watcher. Dawn stared at him for a moment, looking so lost in his bathrobe and slippers, standing by the bookcases. He looked older now, somehow much more weary. "I am not Buffy's Watcher anymore, Dawn. You know that."

Dawn nodded, softly, not quite understanding about what he was about to say. "Yeah. I'm not her sister anymore, either."

Giles shook his head, and placed a hand on her shoulder, looking deeply into her blue eyes. "You will always be her sister."

She looked into his eyes defiantly, her mouth pursed. "Then you will always be her Watcher. You won't get another Slayer, Giles. We have to pull everybody together in to help her. She's the only girl I have known to avert six Apocolyspses and live, but then fight a god and die. She shouldn't have died this way, Giles. Even if she died to save the world."

This was a first for Dawn. Usually she didn't tell people what to do, or what to say, or anything. She was easygoing, even though when Buffy ordered her to do something, she usually did. But now- she had to handle things. She was made out of Buffy, wasn't she? "I'm not going to slay, though," Dawn told him. "That's Buffy's job. My job is to get her back- her, not two split sides."

"You need to sleep," said Giles softly. He took her hand off her shoulder, looking so sad he made Dawn want to cry. "Do you want the couch or the bed?"

"What about Spike?" asked Dawn. She didn't want Spike to die because he told her to go to Giles. She didn't want to die. Everything was all wrong. Nothing would ever be the same. Death would be around everything- the air was permeated with it. "What if he can't handle her and he kills her and- she comes and gets us in our sleep?" Dawn's voice became frantic.

"She can't get in, Dawn. And Spike is quite capable of handling a Slayer, he's proved it to us many times," he said, trying to reassure her.

"But he hasn't handled Buffy as a vampire before! What- what if they-"

"What about Spike?" asked Dawn. She didn't want Spike to die because he told her to go to Giles. She had done too much, had been so much trouble. "What if he can't handle her and he kills her and- she comes and gets us in our sleep? Oh, God, Giles, I don't want to die! I'm just one girl, not an army... How am I- how am I going to do this? " Dawn's voice became frantic, her face flushed and her words hurried.

"She can't get in, Dawn. And Spike is quite capable of handling a Slayer, he's proved it to us many times," he said, trying to reassure her. Giles wanted to help so much, but he knew deep down, and this early, that it would most likely be useless.

"But he hasn't handled Buffy as a vampire before! What- what if they-"

Giles was suddenly struck with an obscene mental picture of the two. He shook his head trying to clear it. "They won't."

"Are you-" started Dawn, looking so lost and nervous, trying not to start crying again. So scared. A little tremor kept on fluttering in her stomach, and it felt like someone kept pushing a pencil on the back of her throat, the pressure there binding and making her feel dizzy. The room shifted a bit, fragmenting in her mind, her blue eyes storming over with silver clouds. "Sure?"

The older man looked very tired, standing at the foot of the stairs, only in his bathrobe and slippers. His eyes opened half-way towards Dawn, who sat down quietly and primly on his green leather couch, not facing him anymore. She had apparantly decided to take the couch. He stared at her back helplessly, and smiled thinly, almost a frown, really. "Yes. You need to sleep, Dawn. We all have to. We can't do anything about it right now, love. In any other situation, we would. This isn't your sister anymore, you must remember that. Spike will take care of her, in her pure and her evil form, neither of them your sister. This- is not Buffy."

Dawn gave a slight half-nod, not believing it. 'It is Buffy. It's Spike and my blood. It is Buffy,' she thought angrily to herself, angry at Giles, angry at the sound of his steps as he shuffled his slippers up the wooden stairs. 'What does Giles know? He's not Buffy's damn sister, he's not made of her, he's just her Watcher. Nothing else. He hasn't a fake life full of memories of Buffy- that's what he thinks they are. But they're real. I know they're real. It's happened, and everybody thinks so. Even Angel thinks it.'

She slowly laid down on the slippery couch, pulling a peagreen cashmere throw over her body, leaning her head against a velvet pillow. The tiny individual threads on it rubbed against her fevered cheek as she pulled the chain of the lamp. The room became dim, the only light coming from a small window above the door. It let in a round patch of light, beaming right on Dawn's face. She didn't move.

Laid on her side, not thinking.

Still not moving.

Clock flashed 3:05 AM angrily in her eyes, burning them to their ocean core. It hurt.

Shadow drifted across room. Only a car zooming past, moving quickly like a ghost. It might've been Buffy in that car. Or Mom. Mom was in that car, driving away from Revello Drive, and passing by Giles's street to leave a ghost in the house.

"Hi, Mommy," whispered Dawn so quietly under her breath. "I miss you." She waved at the long-gone shadow.

Another car passed by, the other way, and she knew it was Mommy waving back.

_____________________

It was late. It was really late, and Xander and Willow hadn't moved from their positions in the training room. The room was dark, and the air was so still. Willow still laid upon Xander's chest, her arms encircling his neck below her. Xander's hands splayed across her back, still binding her to him. The titian haired witch didn't know what time it was. She didn't care. Xander only knew it was late, some time that didn't matter to him. Nothing mattered right now.

Just their comforting weight, doubled when together. Just them together, together, together, and nobody else.

There wasn't any Anya thoughts, or Tara thoughts, or Giles thoughts. There were just Willow and Xander's bodies, warm and comfy. Their presences together were subtle, and together they didn't have to speak. They knew what each other was thinking, they knew what they were feeling, because they united in a way nobody else really understood.

There weren't any witchy telepsathic thoughts, or any sexy Xander undertones. It was just two human bodies and minds together as if they'd never been separated. Both their eyes were pressed shut, the tear tracks visible on their faces. They hadn't spoken since they'd arrived there.

"Xander." Willow stated, not really asking a question, just saying his name. It was comforting. "Alexander Harris." It was weird talking. Unnatural to her in this dazed state. She raised her head off his wonderful chest, and looked at him. His beautiful brown green eyes were open now, and in the moonlight they glazed over the ceiling like beautiful swirly green marbles. He was silent, and did not look back at her.

"I-" she choked a little on her words, "miss Buffy. It- oh goddess, it hurts. Does it hurt you?"

Xander just nodded slightly, pained to hear his best friend in the entire world talk about their other best friend. It hurt right in *there*, that clicheed place where people hurt when something happened. "We can't do anything about it, Will... You know that. Even if you could, something would go wrong. It's only been a day. Two days. I don't know. But it's too early even if we could."

She set her jaw slightly against his firm chest. "I want to do something. A spell. I'm not supposed to- no witches are supposed to- but what if she's suffering? Xander, she could be in a Hell dimension like Angel's... Eternal torment. If Buffy's going to die, she's gonna die of something natural, like-like- tuberculosis or something human."

"You're not supposed to," Xander replied gruffly, shaking his head. They were both fully awake- and aware of everything now. "You said so- think about it. You know I'm all for the breaking of the rules, especially when it comes to Buffy. But she is dead and raising her would maybe make things worse."

"Maybe, Xander. Maybe. You said maybe," Willow told him softly, mumbling into his chest looking so hopeless.

"Yeah."
"Maybe can always make a difference."
"Maybe not."
"Maybe yeah."

"Xander," whispered Willow hoarsely, changing the subject. "Shouldn't we go back home?" She looked up at him from the comfortable circle on his chest. His eyes closed, he responded just as softly.

"Don't wanna."

"Tara and Anya are going to worry," she said quietly.

"Let them," he said, opening his eyes just a hair to see Willow staring at him with an intense look on her face, her sea eyes glassy.

"Okay."

They were silent then. The room became just a fog again in the dim 3 o'clock morn, no beautiful sunset or dawn like when Buffy fell to her glowing doom. The bodies became Willow and Xander again, their past conversation forgotten, their breathing slowing down, their heart rates a steady drum. Then, suddenly, Xander pulled Willow up to a straddling position on his chest, looking into her eyes quickly as he placed her hands on his shoulders.

His strong hands encircled her pale little wrists freckled with dots of sun that were gripping his shoulders. For some odd reason, his heartbeat quickened a pace, and he felt... Felt like doing something other than crying. He didn't have to go home to Anya. He didn't have to think about Buffy right now.

Willow peered down at him wonderingly, into his strong jawline and soft black hair and his comfortable sweater and her- rather unusual position on his chest that was rubbing in certain places between her thighs. It was making her a little- well, stimulated. Her face flushed a hot red, feeling it creep down into her stomach and cause little tinkerbells to fly around, glowing her up.

Then, Xander placed his wood weathered hands on each side of Willow's face and sat up a little more, so that now Willow slid down to his lap, her back supported by his bent legs, her own legs on each side of his back, straddling him tightly, her skirt riding up a little. But it was enough to take an extra breath of air, his pink lips parted. Willow licked her lips eagerly, forgetting the earlier sorrow.

Xander tipped her chin up to look into her eyes swiftly before capturing her mouth was his, their lips now firmly pressed to each other, their chests rising and falling in the same rhythym, gasping for air as they came up for air in the fastest kiss Willow and Xander had each experienced. Xander placed his arms around Willow's middle as she leaned back slightly on his bent knees, her legs contracting around his middle as he attempted to get closer to her, her body squirming slightly as it got hotter. A second passed as they looked at each other in disbelief, then, smashed their mouths to the others once again.

Lips parted and opened, gasping for breath each time they did. Oh goddddd... Soooo... Goooodd... Feeling... thought Willow, right as Xander slipped his velvety tongue into her mouth, right over her own tongue. She slid her own pink little tongue into his mouth, which made him groan. Really, really loudly. "Uhhhhnnnnnnnn... Will," moaned Xander, as he continued kissing her back. Oh god.... Willow. So good, don't stop, Willow, oh, don't.... Xander thought desperately as their tongues slipped together, making a delicious wetness. Her mouth tasted like strawberries with sugar and whipped cream. Each time her tongue rubbed against his and their lips brushed together, it sent little wrigging sparks down the front of his body, which she was rubbing against, desperate for more contact.

Willow made a tiny little noise, coming from the back of her throat- which made Xander forget all thoughts about the stopping of the kissing because he had a girrrrrrrrrlfriend. The girl part was droned out in his thoughts as Willow placed her hands around the back of his neck, and started combing her fingers unconsciously through the soft and tiny little hairs that covered the hot space. She raked her teeth over his tongue softly, which caused him to moan again in pure delight. "Willlllll," he groaned softly. "Good..." Xander took in a big gulp of breath before returning to her tasty strawberry mouth, "spot..."

The red haired girl was then even more determined to make Xander make that sound again, which was making shooting thunderbolts of desire go down to that-that place that was also uncannily a good spot. She snaked a hand down between them to press upon the crotch of Xander's baggy khakis- where then, she found him extremely happy. He broke apart from her mouth suddenly to take in another gulp of air and look down to see her tiny hand pressing down on his-his other parts, making it stand up even more to attention, if that was possible.

Then, a loud knock on the steel door brought more than his happy stick to attention.

"Xanderrrrrrrrr! Willooowwwww!" bellowed a familiar voice. "Are you guys all right?"

It was Anya.

__________________________

Muwahaha! Xander and Willow! Sorry it took so long for me to stick in this chapter. More to come soon. This is why (and some other spots) it's rated R.