The trio stepped out from the shade of lone tree and stood in the middle of a dirt path, soaking it the warm sun. For a moment ignoring the fact that regardless of the packaging, it was still hell.
"So, now what?" asked Anya, breaking the silence.
"We find the others," said Willow. "And then we get out of here."
"Let's start with the latter," suggested Ethan
Anya opened her mouth to give Ethan what-for when Willow caught her eye, shaking her head slightly. Willow turned toward him, giving him her best guileless smile. "So which way would be out, Ethan?"
He shrugged his shoulders, "How should I know?"
Anya huffed and rolled her eyes. "You picked out this dimension; you should have some idea of how it operates."
Rayne shook his head, trying to clear it. Then the corners of his mouth turned up slightly. "Well, if only…" he said, running his thumb and forefinger along the now imperfect crease of his pants. Then he brushed his pant leg, looked up and sighed. "No, I shan't indulge in what is not available."
"What is it?" Willow asked. "Maybe we can manage it. Together we got out of the Heights of Hell." Her eyebrows arched in optimism.
"The blonde said you were a witch."
"My name is Anya, thank you very much."
Ethan gave her an indulging smile. "So noted. Anya said you were a witch. But you weren't the one to open the portal, so I am assuming you are not nearly as powerful as that mousy girl."
"Her name's Tara and I'm quite a powerful witch!" protested Willow. Then with a tone of resignation tinged with bitterness she added, "Or at least I was until I had to give it up."
A cloud passed in front of the sun and Ethan gave her a look of understanding. "Ah, that is a tough break. You try so hard to burn bright, only to be outshone by someone with… Now how did that demon guide put it? With 'a purity of intention, of character, of soul.'" Ethan took in the pensive look on Willow's face and continued. "Even tougher when it's someone you love. You end up hating yourself for being jealous because true love shouldn't have any room for jealousy, should it?"
"What would you know about it? Let's pick a direction and go," snapped Willow.
He shrugged. "Oh, I might know a little bit about loving a serious, stuttering, duty-driven talent. Someone with such a goodness of spirit that you're haunted by the certainty that someday soon they'll see through you and leave you, not even bothering to hide their disgust."
On the horizon, clouds began to rolled and darken. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and began to worry it.
*****
"It wasn't funny the first time." Xander blew gently and moaned as he cradled his nose. "Pig eating, VD, bug munching, and now punching bag. My life is complete."
"Come on now, boy. Saved your skin didn't it?" Spike's voice held tones of laughter.
Harshly, Xander bit out, "Who asked you? Why are you here anyway? Nobody asked you, dead man."
Spike pulled out a cigarette, lit it and gazed at Xander through exhaled smoke. "I decided that my life wasn't enough of a situation comedy. Thought I needed a bunch of friends who just drop by and ask me to help investigate wacky adventures. I've been sitting around asking: Why don't my demon friends demonstrate heartfelt concern for my well being when I have problems? And then it hit me, who better than the infamous Scooby Gang? I could come to your rescue here in England and then you'd all be in my debt and I'd have myself a real bunch of genuine mates." He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head daringly at Xander.
Quietly Dawn asked, "Why did you come Spike?"
Spike turned to face Dawn and found himself stilled into contemplation. Why had he come? Part of what he said to Xander was true, he hated being on the outside, hated being in stasis. The other part, the part he couldn't mention, was that he loved her. The old cliché of wanting what was worst for you: A vampire loving The Slayer. He should just stake himself where he stood, it'd be easier. He looked at Dawn's face; young, soft, doe-eyed, smudged with drying blood and found it impossible to lie. Softly he said, "I guess that when it comes to you and your sis, Bit, I get a little daft."
Xander made a snuffling, gurgling sound and groaned again, "Remind me not to snort when my nose is broke."
Dawn rounded on Xander and punched him again, this time in the ear.
"Ow! What was that for?" He clutched his ear with his free hand, looking like a bloodied third-base coach.
"He only saved the woman you love and this is the thanks you give him? Ridicule and spite? You're better than that Alexander Harris."
Xander's eyes widened at her in disbelief. This enraged woman standing before him, hands on hips, fire in her eyes was not the whiny teen he knew as Dawn Summers. He looked to Spike, who looked as shocked as he felt, and back to Dawn's angry face.
"I… I… I just… he's Spike." As if that was all the explanation necessary.
Enunciating each word she spoke with vigor, "Not good enough Xander. He took care of me when Buffy died, and he helped watch over Sunnydale before you brought her back. He stopped her from dancing herself to a cinder, and he saved Anya from Drusilla. I think at the very least a 'thank-you' and a cease-fire are in order."
Spike and Xander looked at each other and then back at the self-possessed, adamant young woman.
"If I do, will you promise not to hit me ever again?"
*****
Dawn turned and headed for the tunnel, not bothering to see if the two walking testicles were following her. Walking through the arch, she was surprised to find an open cavern instead of the passageway where they had been chased by the demons. More surprising was finding Tara and Skip standing in the middle of it.
Dawn ran straight for them shouting, "Tara! Tara!" and then she slammed violently backwards into the floor five feet from her goal. Xander dashed to her side as she tried to regain her breath and shook her head to clear it of all the pretty colors. Xander checked gingerly for obvious signs of damage while Spike hung back, surveying the situation.
Reassuring himself first, Xander whispered, "She's all right." Then while awkwardly patting her forehead he told Dawn, "You're all right." And finally, loudly, "She's all right."
"Good," was Spike's terse reply as he cautiously approached the duo and whatever had stopped Dawn's sprint.
Tara and Skip had begun what seemed to be a serious conversation as Tara shook her head and covered her face with her hands. Skip's shoulders visibly drooped and one large, armored arm patted her awkwardly on the back. They were apparently oblivious of the mysterious boundary and the happenings on the other side of it.
Spike reached out to test the area where Dawn had met with resistance and found… nothing. However, he was a bit unnerved to find that his hand and part of his forearm had disappeared. He jerked his hand back and was relieved to see it still intact at the end of his duster. He flexed it and found no nasty after effects. He scanned the barrier again. Invisible from both sides? It was from this side anyway. He looked at the other side; Beauty and the Beast couldn't see them, so… he stepped through.
*****
Tara was weeping quietly into her hands as Skip tried to do something, anything to get her to stop. He really wasn't good with weeping women. His own wife drove him to distraction when she turned on the tears… of course her tears were made of fire, so a little more hazardous and alarming than these human tears. "It'll be much better… soon… I'm sure. We'll catch up with everyone, and find our way out and…" Skip trailed off as he sensed someone else in the vicinity. Looking up, he saw the vampire who had associated himself with this unlikely band of crusaders.
"What's wrong with the skirt? Someone take her magic wand?" Spike swaggered up to the couple.
Tara's head rose suddenly and she made a few quick swipes at her eyes between sniffs. "Where did you come from?"
Pointing in the direction he came, Spike said, "Walked through the wall."
"You what?" Skip and Tara voiced their disbelief simultaneously.
"I... walked… through… the… wall." Spike emphasized each word as if speaking to three year olds.
Skip walked over to the seemingly solid stone face, and tentatively reached out to it. His hand encountered no stone surface, just more air. He was a bit disconcerted by the tips of his finger disappearing and jerked his hand back quickly. "Weirdness always starts at home… damn hell dimensions."
Lighting another cigarette, Spike exhaled, "Bit and the boy are on the other side. Dawn tried to run to you when she saw you, but encountered a blockade. Funny thing, I went right through, and so did Skip. Maybe you've got to be a demon…"
"But that means they're trapped over there!" Tara's voice held an edge of panic.
"No, I've got an idea. Come here, girl." Skip motioned for Tara to join him by the wall.
When she arrived, Skip picked her up, eliciting a quiet squeak of shock and walked through the stone with her. Grinning, Spike followed.
*****
When Giles looked up from the corner of the chamber he'd been taking refuge in, he knew better than to react to the approaching figure. Occasionally a genuine demon would attack him, but usually they were just apparitions sent to torment him, all in the form of people he knew. He knew they were modeled from his memories, as they looked exactly as they did when he pictured them for himself. The only way he could still tell the difference was the expressions on them: Leering, mocking, laughing. Damned unoriginal, he thought, but they wore him down anyway: His father, chiding him for his rebelliousness; Jenny, always at the head of all those he had been unable to save; Joyce, berating him for taking her daughter away from her; Ethan... Ethan! He was sure he was behind all this, and found himself grateful for his appearances. The anger it roused in him was the only thing that kept him from hopelessness.
This was no demon, but it wasn't the face of anyone he knew. Strange, he thought, it looks so much like... but, no, he knew her apparition well. It was bitter, rebuking him for leaving when she needed him, telling him all that had gone wrong in his absence. No, it wasn't her. This woman was older. Yet it didn't approach him as the others did. It walked toward him slowly, tentatively. As he tried to focus, he could see she was trembling with emotion, tears streaming down her face. She was upon him now, reaching for him, and as she put her arms around him, he could feel her begin to sob. Was it possible? He pulled himself back so he could see her face, and he knew it wasn't a wish or demonic delusion.
"Buffy?"
"Giles! Giles, are you OK?" Strong arms wrapped around him, threatening to cut off his breathing but he didn't care.
"Buffy," he wheezed, "is that really you?"
"All me and only me." She released her hold on him, and saw the worry and doubt. "Wassup, doc?"
Giles studied her face, then abruptly turned away. "No, no you can't be her! You're another one of those bloody apparitions they send to torture me!"
"No, Giles it is me." She grabbed his face, trying to make him look at her. "I know what they've done to you. I've been through those rooms."
He still refused to meet her gaze. That she saw those rooms, all those scenes of his loss and despair..."No, you can't have seen them," he whispered, "You couldn't understand..."
"No, you don't understand," she said. "I don't mean those rooms down here, I mean the originals. I've been through those rooms, too, that is, my own version."
Giles turned to look at her. She hesitated. "That's why you left. I understand that now, too. You knew I had to go through it alone."
"But I was wrong!" he said. "We can't fight these things on our own. Look at me. I'm trapped here. I need help..."
Buffy shook her head. "Monsters, demons, hell dimensions, there's lots of things we need help with. But some stuff you can only get through by figuring it out for yourself."
"But I could have been there for you, I could have helped..."
"Maybe. But it wouldn't have been any easier."
Giles managed a faint smile, both proud and tender. "Buffy, it is you, isn't it?"
Buffy flashed a grin. "Damn straight it's me. And don't go arguing with me when I'm the one giving you the lesson." Buffy glared down at him and spoke in a mock-British accent. "Listen, young lady, you have a duty to do, a sacred job like none other..." She whipped off an imaginary pair of glasses, and they both convulsed laughter, the sound Hell hates most. "Otherwise, the next time you're sucked into Hell I might not come to get you out." She looked around the room. "Assuming we can get out. C'mon, let's find the others."
"Others?" Giles asked. "Who else is here?"
Buffy held him up as they walked down a quiet hallway. "The whole gang - Will, Xander, Tara, Spike, Anya..." She looked a little sheepish and said quietly, "Dawn." At the look on his face, she protested, "I didn't want to but she had to come. She was the Key," Buffy placed extra emphasis on the word, "to our getting in. "Oh, and I almost forgot. The whole reason we're all here. Your buddy Ethan. He's here too. Somewhere."
She looked at what seemed a likely door and punched it open. It was not the right door.