The Third Antichrist Series

by Tales From The Script

*Episode 4 Now UP! and FIXED!!* Spike is the Slayer, and Buffy is the vampire hoplessly in love with him. Roles are Reversed and secrets are revealed in Sunnydale. S/B and X/A. Please Read and Review.

2. The Third Antichrist Narritive

Buffy the Vampire Slayer 7.01-The Third Antichrist

By ScarletNicky



For those who responded that they didn't like reading scripts, here is a re- write of the first episode in story form. We aim to please. This is ScarletNicky's first attempt at narrative, so please R & R.

TEASER

We begin in the park at night, with two kids who were young, but old enough to know better.

Alex Glass, sixteen, and his ten year-old brother Benny were walking rapidly, as scared kids do. They didn't want to run. No, that would have been pussy. But they did want to get home fast.

"Hurry up," Alex urged. "We're supposed to be back by now. Mom and Dad are so gonna kick my ass for not getting you back home before dark."

It sucks being the older brother sometimes. Having to be responsible.

"Well, if they really wanted me home before dark, they'd buy a Playstation so I didn't have to go to Michael's to play," Benny reasoned.

"Somehow I don't think that logic will mean much to them," his older brother correctly surmised.

"What's the big deal, anyway?"

Doesn't he get it? Doesn't he know where we live? "The big deal is you know how things are around here. People go missing. Especially kids. And-"

But Benny was no longer listening. Something else had captivated his attention. "Aww, look Alex."

Alex heard a little whimper and turned around to see what Benny had already noticed. There was a dog behind them. Benny was closest to it. As it approached, Alex could see that it had an injured leg it was holding up. It stopped and looked at Benny, it's eyes begging. It licked at the injured leg and whined again. Benny went over to it.

"Don't be afraid, doggy. I'll help you," he promised in an innocent, childish voice.

He slowly reached his hand out to the dog. It started to lick. Its eyes gradually became less friendly, but Benny didn't see this. The eyes became yellow. Suddenly, Benny screamed and pulled his hand back. It was burned.

"Benny, get away from that thing!" Alex commanded, way too late.

The thing was no longer a dog at all. Alex couldn't say exactly what it was. It seemed to be changing shape, and its saliva burned steaming holes in the ground. The form grew taller, the head becoming serpentine, the rest a lump of writhing tissue.

You have to give Alex Glass credit. He didn't freeze in terror as many kids his age would have. He tried to run to his brother's aid, tried to protect him, but it all happened too fast. As he neared Benny, all he could see was a blur of talons, teeth and fire. All he heard was screaming. The screams became louder, and Alex realized that was because he had added his own screams to those of little Benny. Their screams merged into one.

Blackout.



ACT I

Buffy was in a dark place, struggling with something, her face wrenched. "Aaahhh!" she groaned out in anguish.

Some kind of dark, syrupy liquid spat on her face, coming from the monster she was fighting. More of it, globs, continued to pour on her face.

She could hear the voice of a potential rescuer, but she couldn't see him down in the dark.

"Hang on, I've got you!"

It was Xander Harris, who grabbed her legs and pulled her out of danger...from under her car. She was covered in oil and holding a wrench in her hand. Looking about as stupid as she felt.

"I think it's time we had that talk," Xander began paternally, putting a fatherly hand on her shoulder, "about what the oil pan is for."

Buffy slumped as she made her way back into her house. Xander walked with her.

Minutes later, Buffy came into her bedroom, wearing a bathrobe, her hair still wet. Xander cut on the stereo as she walked in. It played some forgettable nineties grunge tune about how the world sucked and the singer wished he were dead. He rolled it down. Buffy collapsed across the bed, and Xander sat down next to her.

"Why are you looking so droopy and defeated?" Xander asked.

"Because I'm droopy and defeated." Sometimes the simplest explanations were the best.

"Ah, the terrifying villains of automotive repair," Xander sympathized.

"Give me an mm'cookies demon any day."

"Why didn't you just call me?" he asked.

"I'm tired of bothering you to fix every little thing around here. You've got plenty going on with your company. Y'know, doing jobs for clients that can actually pay money."

"The company's going great," Xander reassured her. "I can pay the bills. Speaking of which..."

Xander tossed a stack of letters and such onto Buffy's bed. She sighed and winced.

"The mailman says hello. Well, actually, he asked me if you'd died," he amended. "He also said he didn't have room to stick one more piece of mail in the box. Care to explain?"

"Oh yes. There's a simple explanation. I haven't been to the mailbox in a few days..." She continued, but in a smaller voice: "...weeks."

Xander looked back at her patiently. "And why haven't you been to the mailbox?"

Buffy sat up, answering in her best pitiful voice. "I don't like the mailbox. It scares me. I'm afraid something awful and horrifying and festered might be waiting in there for me."

"Like what?" he asked.

"Like bills."

Xander surveyed the pile of mail. Leafed through it. "I don't know how to tell you this, but it looks like your worst fears are realized."

Buffy flopped back on the bed again, defeated. "Ohhh...see? If I don't go to the mailbox, then I don't have as many bills to pay."

"Uh, no. You have just as many bills to pay, only now you owe late charges with them," Xander explained.

"You're using logic again. Knock it off. That has no place in this conversation."

Xander thought about this. He knew Buffy doesn't want to be a burden, but he wanted her to let him help.

"Why don't you let me help you with those bills? I can afford it now, and I seem to be all out of women to spend money on at the moment."

Buffy sat up again, looking at him with exaggerated suggestiveness. "You're wanting to be my sugar daddy?"

Xander was a little uncomfortable at this. She was joking, obviously, but it hit a little close to home. After all, there was a time when he...

Either you feel a thing or you-

No, those were days gone by. If that were going to happen, it would have already.

"Don't worry," he laughed, "I'm not expecting the sugar. I just want to help. I don't like to see you stressed out about money. Slaying's stressful enough as it is."

Buffy was tired of talking about her failure. Time to concentrate on his success. "In contrast to me, you look far less droopy these days. What's the big secret of your success?"

He pondered about this and considered how to answer.

"I don't know. I mean, on the outside it looks like things have never been worse for me. My best friend is in depression over trying to end the world, and me and Anya still haven't been able to work things out. But inside...things are better. I feel like I've finally beaten my personal demons. The things that caused me to fail in the past. I've always doubted myself. And wondered if I belonged."

His words took Buffy back to a time when she used to try to keep him out of danger. Yes, they had underestimated him a few times. She thought that was long past, but to him, those memories must still be fresh.

"Xander, how could you think you didn't belong?" she asked.

"Well, think about it. You're the Slayer. Anya has demon powers. Willow and Tara were witches. Dawn's a mystical ball of energy. I'm just me."

He said the words matter-of-factly, not in a self-pitying way. But Buffy still felt the need to set the record straight.

"Just you is pretty special, Xander. You face the same things the rest of us do, and without super powers. Things that would make all those jocks we went to high school with crap their pants and run. And you never lost heart. You never quit."

It was then that Xander realized a difference he hadn't noticed before. He had always seen love and affection for him when looking into Buffy's eyes. Now he saw something else, something just as important: respect. She looked at him as an equal now.

"Thanks," he said, meaning it. "Maybe that's why I've learned to have faith in myself."

Buffy put her arm around him in a mock guy-buddy, chummy gesture. "Ah, saving the world does that for you. Take it from one who knows."

He pondered this. Maybe for the first time. "Saving the world? I wasn't trying to do that. I was just trying to save Willow."

"Well, you certainly tried a novel approach," she responded. "Love. Who woulda thought that would work? And why didn't I think of--? Oh yeah, I forgot. Love and tenderness aren't my style. I'm all about the kicking of the ass."

Now her personal demons were the issue. He tried to reassure her. "None of us have ever doubted your ability to love, Buffy."

She looked at him doubtfully, then changed the subject. "So what about Willow, anyway? Fill me in."

He took a deep breath before tackling this one. "You know what worries me? The rest of us were trying to deal, to put last year behind us. She wasn't. Just sitting in that room over at my apartment. Staring blankly."

He thought back to that horrible Summer. Willow, withdrawn, living in some world no one else could see, barely eating. Was it some kind of paradise she imagined, where she and Tara lived, untouched by tragedy or bullets or Warren or anything? Or was it a hell, where she relived the death over and over, and her reaction to it. Where she was tormented by Dark Willow, and all the things she'd said and done to her friends, to herself? Willow had never said, and Xander had never asked.

"Well, Giles said she's going off to some house in the woods," said Buffy, bringing him mercifully back into the present. "Something about some powerful witch training her on using magic responsibly."

"And she agreed to go," Xander replied. "That's progress, I guess. But did you hear who arranged it?"

Buffy shook her head.

"Amy. In fact, it's Amy's grandmother they're going to see."

Buffy wasn't thrilled. "Enabler Amy?"

"The very same. Supposedly, she's decided to kick, too. Or at least find more constructive magical outlets."

Amy. When Willow had finally managed to de-rat Amy Madison after three years, the young witch had seemed remarkably unaffected. But soon Amy was encouraging Willow to abuse magic. It was Amy who had taken her to Rack's.

"I don't like it, though. Can Willow really get over going nuts by hanging out with someone who's...?"

"Gone nuts?" Buffy finished.

"Yeah."

Buffy contemplated Amy's strange existence for a moment.

"Must have been all that running on the wheel, never getting anywhere."

Xander gave her a funny look. Wasn't he supposed to be the one with the inappropriately timed semi-humorous lines?

A thought occurred to Buffy. "Wait a minute. Mom's side?"

"Oh yes," Xander confirmed. "The woman who gave birth to that witch that tried to banish you to the cornfield back in tenth grade."

Boy, didn't that take Buffy back? Catherine Madison had stolen Amy's body and tried to reclaim her lost youth. She'd been willing to murder and maim to relive her glory as...a cheerleader. Aim high. In the end, Catherine had cast a spell to ban Buffy forever to, as they say in the wrestling business, 'parts unknown.' But it had failed. Buffy had managed to get a mirror between herself and Amy's mom, and Catherine had wound up...? Well, actually, they'd never found out where Catherine had wound up.

"Amy says her grandma's a good witch, though," Xander continued, sounding like a man trying to convince himself. "I just wish I knew what was going on with them. They should be getting there about now."

But at that moment, if they could have peeked into the mind of Willow Rosenberg, they would have seen that she was far from there, or anywhere else that made sense.

In fact, Willow was lying out in the sun on a very hot summer day. She was wearing a pink and yellow bikini (you're welcome, fans) and lying on a beach towel out in her parents' yard, as if she had never moved out. She raised up as if from a dream. She must have been asleep, she reasoned. She looked around, a little confused. She gazed at the trees beyond a nearby yard. A large black bird was perched atop the tallest one. It looked like a vulture. It was staring at her.

She looked next door. Everything normal. A girl even younger than Dawn was coming back from the mailbox, walking toward her house. But further down the street, there was something else. Something that didn't quite belong.

Neither do you, a voice inside told Willow, but she ignored it. Willow strained to make out the shape. It started to become clearer. It was a man, standing near the end of the street, next to the stop sign. A man, or maybe a woman. From this distance, she couldn't tell.

The air began to turn misty and it grew inexplicably darker outside. The girl next door had gone in. The figure at the end of the street wore a long brown coat of some sort. No, not a coat. More like a cape. A hood covered the face. Wait. Wasn't it Summer?

A look back across Willow's street revealed dark clouds coming over the trees. The wind was blowing hard now. This cloud had come up impossibly fast. Everything was different. But the vulture was still there.

The vulture seemed to be closer to her, although neither of them had moved. It's eyes opened. They were red, like digital lights. It's mouth opened with a shriek.

She looked back down the street. The shape at the stop sign began to stalk toward her, not running, but with the purposeful gait of a Jason Voorhees or Michael Myers. Rain began to pour, making visibility low.

Scared, Willow stood up to run, but when she turned around, her house was no longer there. Instead, there was a misty forest. She ran into it, through some trees. Looking back frantically, she could see nothing but rain, blown into her face by the strong wind. No hooded figure following. But it was still back there. She could feel it. In the midst of the trees, she came upon a fairy-tale house. A mansion that slightly resembled a castle. She went to open its door, but it opened on its own before she could reach it. Willow looked inside, shocked at what she saw. TARA.

"There you are," Tara greeted her, as if finding a lost Miss Kitty Fantastico. "Come in."

Willow turned around, still upset and confused, then back to Tara. Somehow, this didn't fit, but Willow couldn't quite remember why. Wasn't Tara--? No, don't think about it. You might remember something you want to forget.

"There's a-" Willow started, but Tara is already aware.

"Oh, I-I know," Tara assured in her characteristic stutter. "But you'll be safe here." Her look was comforting to Willow. She might be completely bewildered, but Tara seemed to have things under control.

Willow didn't question Tara. She just came inside and Tara closed the door behind her.

Reluctantly, Willow started to adjust to this world. Memories crept-(your shirt)-back.

"Baby...?" Willow implored sadly. Denial was nice while it lasted, but deep down she knew this couldn't be real. Tara was...

Tara smiled sadly at her, as if reading her mind. "Yes, this is a dream, Sweetie, but that doesn't mean it isn't real. I can still protect you. I want you to always remember that."

"You can protect me?"

"Yes," Tara nodded. "It'll be hard and confusing. There'll be trials. And a sorceress, and a girl, and a snake..."

"Like a fairy tale?" Willow asked.

"Yeah, kinda like that. Except real."

Willow tried to process Tara's cryptic responses as she looked past Tara at the huge dark living room behind her. There were stairs that went up, seemingly forever. It was a vast place. The kind of place that could swallow you. Where you could be lost for days. Where no one could find you. A scary thought. Or maybe a blissful one.

"I would show you more, but there isn't time. You're almost there," Tara said, going over to look out the window. She must have seen what she needed to see, for she looked satisfied as she turned back to Willow.

"You can go home now," she told Willow. "No one's really out there."

Willow looked for herself. She still saw the misty forest and the rain, not her sunny front yard. Tara must have been mistaken. Either that or they were surveying different realities.

"But that's not my yard."

"Oh, y-yes it is," Tara responded. "It's just a trick. See?"

Tara motioned for Willow to look again. She did so, but this time forest was gone. She could see her parents' yard again. Did Tara do it? Or had she not really seen the forest in the first place?

Tara looked at Willow seriously, lovingly. "I love you, Willow. But I won't say goodbye. Because we will see each other again. Soon."

Willow interpreted this: "I'm going to die," she stated, accepting.

Tara shook her head. "I'm pretty sure that's not what I meant."

Willow had a strange sense of déjà vu at those words. She had this odd feeling that they'd been spoken before, in another dream. But not to her and not by Tara. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but she was almost sure-

"Just promise me you won't believe in anything except yourself...and me. No matter how things look. No matter what you think is possible."

Willow would have made any promise, and kept it at any cost, to this woman. That's the one thing in this weird reality she was sure of.

"Okay," she whispered. "I promise."

Their eyes held one another. Willow wanted to stay, to fall into the oceans of those eyes and never return, never look back. But she couldn't. And it was almost over, the moment nearly past.

"I'll always be near you," Tara comforted. "And when you need me the most...that's when I'll be there."

Willow didn't follow. "How will I know--?"

"You'll know. Just close your eyes and think of me, and you'll see me."

Willow decided this was as much of an understanding as she was going to get. She opened the door and walked back into the bright sunshine and across the yard, leaving Tara, the misty forest and the old house behind. She saw her own body, lying asleep in the sun. There was never a storm.

She awoke. In a car that was moving down a winding, secluded road. She had been sleeping in the passenger seat. She looked over at her friend Amy Madison, who was driving.

Amy smiled back at her. "Glad you're awake, sleepy witch," she teased. "You missed your turn to drive."

"S-sorry."

"It's okay. We're there now. There's my grandmother's house."

Willow looked out the window as the house came into view amidst the trees. It was the same one from the dream. But then somehow she knew it would be, didn't she?

Amy was oblivious to Willow's worried look as she stopped the car at the iron security gate. The house loomed in the distance behind the gate, and Willow felt a pang of dread in her stomach as she looked up at it. Outside the car, Amy was talking into a phone at the post.

Soon, Amy climbed back in the car and put it back in drive. They pulled down the long driveway and stopped. Moments later, feeling small, Willow joined the other witch in walking from the car up to the door and inside. She felt as if the house had swallowed her.

Agatha Allen, Amy's grandmother, greeted them in the doorway, smiling.

"Hello, honey. Give your grandmother a hug. It's been years since she's had one."

She hugged Amy, and Willow felt a measure of relief. This lady wasn't that scary after all. Maybe dreams were just that. I'm not a Slayer, after all, she thought. It's just Buffy's dreams that mean something, right?

"Sorry, Grandma," Amy apologized. "But you know how Mom was. And then I was- "

"A rat," Agatha finished. "Yes, I heard about that."

The old lady's face turned regretful. "Your mother was my greatest failing. But now I have another chance."

Amy smiled proudly, but Agatha wasn't looking at her. She was looking at Willow.

"So you're the Willow Rosenberg," Agatha addressed her.

"Well, I don't know about the. Certainly a, though," Willow responded, self- consciously. This was Season 1-4 Willow here. She was small and young again in the presence of Agatha Allen.

"Now, no need to be modest. I heard you almost destroyed the world."

"Grandma!" Amy exclaimed, shocked.

Willow looked down, embarrassed.

"Just getting that awkward stage out of the way," Agatha continued, offering no apology. "The thing that everybody was scared would be brought up. Now it's up."

Willow was still staring down, and Agatha bent to look her in the eye.

"Deal with it. We're not here to dwell on the past," she said, looking back and forth at both girls. "No Satanic temples, no rats. This is about the future. I have a feeling it's going to be a good one. So welcome to my home, Willow Rosenberg," she exclaimed. "You girls...you make me feel..." She looked at Amy, "...young..." at Willow. "...and powerful again."

Willow felt that uncomfortable sensation again. Agatha was looking at her like Rack had when they first met. Like something juicy.

"Let me show you to your rooms."

A short time later, back in Sunnydale, Rupert Giles was instructing Dawn Summers in self-defense, or in her case, maybe it was offense. As Dawn punched and kicked the heavy bag in the training room of the Magic Box, Giles discovered it reminded him of an earlier time, when he'd had many such sessions with the teen's older sister.

Inside the commercial portion of the store, his pretty demon employee, Anya, shuffled inventory items. Anya heard someone enter through the front door and she spoke before looking up to see who it was.

"Sorry, we're clos-oh, it's you," she said, registering slight shock.

"Yeah, it's me," replied Xander Harris, his voice revealing that he wasn't sure what kind of reception to expect. "I just came to see how you were getting along."

"Well, I would answer you sincerely," Anya began with some irritation, "but I'm pretty certain this is one of those situations in which I am expected to lie and say whatever will be the least troublesome for the other person. So, to be polite, I'm fine."

"If I wanted polite, I wouldn't have even come to see - well now, that's just coming out all foolspeak."

"Your native tongue," she couldn't resist. "So how is Willow?"

Xander wasn't fooled by the question. Anya could care less how Willow was. In fact, it was more of an accusation, wasn't it? The implication being that Xander had spent so much of his Summer with Willow, and none of it on his knees, where he belonged, begging Anya's forgiveness. But he answered the question as if were a serious one.

"About the same. But there's hope. She's taken some sort of sabbatical...with Amy."

"The rat? That should be therapeutic," Anya quipped.

"Yeah, I have misgivings about that, too," Xander admitted. "So do Giles and Buffy. But we're glad to see she's at least being proactive."

Anya nodded.

"Well, I'm so glad she's trying to get better. After all, we must love and accept Willow unconditionally. I mean, what's a little murder and mayhem if someone's been your friend since-"

"You're STILL jealous of Willow?" Xander asked in disbelief. "I can't believe you could still envy her after what she's been through. You know, it's pointless to wish tragedy on Willow. She's already been hurt as much as anyone can be. She was almost destroyed."

"I was almost destroyed, Xander!" Anya shouted. "And YOU were! And Buffy and Dawn and Giles. My shop! Willow was the DESTROYER!"

"That wasn't really Willow-"

She knew someone was going to say that. Now she blows her top for real. "Is THAT what you're telling yourself? Is that the official Scooby Party line? It wasn't really Willow? God! It most certainly WAS her, Xander. You're being an idiot if you won't let yourself see it."

Tired, Xander tried to explain, though he figured it was a hopeless cause. "You don't understand-"

"Yes, I do understand," she corrected, cutting him off again. "She's human and your friend, therefore if she does evil, then it's not really her. I, on the other hand, am a demon, so even if do good, it doesn't count. I'm starting to understand really well, Xander!"

And that was the root of the problem, after all. As usual, Anya had forced painful honesty to the forefront. There had been reasons they hadn't gotten married, but wasn't that the main one? The one all others stemmed from? Anya was beautiful, Anya was sexy, Anya was fun and exciting, and Anya had loved Xander Harris more than any woman ever had. But Anya was also a demon. And Xander Harris didn't trust demons, no matter what they looked like.

"That's not they way I think of you, Anya," Xander told her, trying to argue against the thoughts in his own head. "Stop putting words in my mouth."

"Just answer me this, then. And I need the truth this time," Anya challenged, calmer. "When we were together, were you settling? Did you ever wish you were with Buffy or Willow instead?"

Xander thought about it. He searched his heart and came up with an honest answer, one she deserved to hear. Xander walked over to her, meeting her face to face, looking her in the eyes, taking both of her hands in his.

"Anya, I swear to you that every minute I spent with you, I was with the one person on this earth I most wanted to be with. And I won't ever regret a single one of those minutes."

She was touched, threatening to tear up. It was the truth, and she knew it. The ending may have been messy, but for nearly three years, he'd given her his best. Whatever happened now, she was relieved at least to know that. He'd loved her. But...

"But you didn't believe in me," she realized sadly. It must have been that.

"Oh, I did, Anya. I did," he promised. "I just didn't believe in me."

"I did. I believed in you. But you hurt me."

Now it came. The overwhelming guilt he knew he couldn't keep down for long. "Ahn..." This was too painful. Why couldn't she just let it be?

"Oh yes, I forgot," she said sarcastically. "Humans hate honesty at a time like this."

He considered, and on this rare occasion, decided her way was right. "You're right. Maybe now's the time for honesty."

Suddenly, she wasn't so sure that was what she wanted, after all. That look. He was going to say something bad, wasn't he?

"Okay, Xander," she started shakily. "What do want to say...honestly?"

He chose his words carefully, deliberately. This was not the time to lapse back into foolspeak.

"I know without a doubt our love was real, Anya. More real than anything in my whole life."

But?...It was coming and she closed her eyes against it.

"But I don't know if we can get that back. Or if we should," he added.

Silence. She tried to compose herself. It appeared to be ending, spiraling down the toilet with unforeseen swiftness, and she wanted to preserve some dignity. She wanted it to be mutual, not just a dumping.

"I still love you, Xander. But I hate you, too, in an approximately equal measure."

It was the best counter-punch she could muster against this man who had become her world. A world that was crumbling and burning before her.

"Well, I don't hate you," Xander responded with a sad laugh. "But I don't think I'm in love with you anymore, either."

Anya turned around to hide her tears. That was the most devastating thing he could have said.

"But I'm sorry. I wish I could take back all the hurt I've caused you."

Her back remained turned to him as she leaned against the Magic Box's counter, choking back sobs. He realized her position, and decided to leave quietly, sparing her dignity.

He made it to the door, and she heard the bell jingle as it opened. She turned around, despite showing him her tears.

"Xander?"

He turned back to her.

"Thanks for saving the world." She offered a sad smile through the tears.

Xander looked into her face and saw pride there: pride in him.

"I had to," he said. "You were in it."

Then mercifully he left, and she broke down into the sobs she'd been holding back.

Outside the door of the Magic Box, Xander could hear her crying inside. He winced at the thought of causing her more pain and his inability to do anything for it. But he couldn't. Not without making more promises that would only lead to greater hurt in the future. The pain was inevitable. There was no going back.

Inside, Anya heard Dawn coming out of the back room, sweating after her workout. Anya turned back to some paperwork in the store, not wanting to let on how upset she was. Quickly, she erected a cheerful façade in preparation for what she figured would be the usual small talk with the youngest Summers.

"Hello, Dawn," she opened, trying to sound as okay as she could. "How was your session?"

"Great," enthused Dawn. "I kicked hella ass, as usual."

"That's nice. I haven't heard hella in years."

"Heard it on South Park," Dawn explained, and other thoughts came to mind.

Kyle's mom is a big fat bitch she's the biggest bitch in the whole wide-

"Among other things," she added. "Was somebody here? I thought I heard you talking to someone."

"Uh, it was just a customer," Anya lied, poorly.

Dawn frowned. "Isn't it past closing time?"

Anya came back falsely perky. "Yes, but you know me. I never pass up a chance at revenue."

Dawn looked at her skeptically, noticing for the first time the redness in her eyes. But wisely (yeah, I'm as shocked as you), she said nothing. Instead, she changed the subject.

"My training with Giles is going great. I feel just like Buffy must have all those years ago."

Dawn sat down in one of the chairs and got pensive. She decided to bring up the thing that had been weighing on her mind.

"I'm afraid he's thinking about going back to England again," she spilled. "All he'll say when I mention the future is 'we'll see.' He doesn't seem to be making any plans that have to do with, you know, here. And he's acting restless."

"Well, Buffy's getting back to her spunky little self," Anya reasoned. "I guess he figures." she trailed off.

"I don't want him to go," Dawn blurted. "He kinda feels like my Watcher now, too." A dumbass idea occurred. "Do you think if I made a wish that he wouldn't go away, you could-?"

Anya looked at her incredulously. "Have you already forgotten your sister's marathon birthday party?"

That brought Dawn back to earth. "Oh yeah. Well, I just meant the country, not the house," she added weakly.

"I've learned my lesson, Dawn," Anya pronounced. "The last wish I granted caused an evil Willow to show up. And you know as well as I do how bad those can be."

It's time you went back to being a little energy ball.

"I'll say," Dawn shuddered. "You know, the rest of them just want to sweep all that under the rug like nothing ever happened. Well, I can't. I can't forget how she said everybody'd be better off if I just went back to being a little green ball of energy."

Even Anya was surprised at that level of malice from Willow. "She said that?"

"Yeah," Dawn nodded. "She said that. And then she tried to make it happen."

Anya could feel the hurt coming through in Dawn's words. She'd loved Willow. Thought Willow had loved her. What a torture it must have been when Willow had mocked her, tried to hurt her, to erase her. Wait. Is this empathy?

"Well, I know as well as anyone how the desire for vengeance can consume you," Anya tried to explain.

"I guess so."

Dawn sat quietly for a beat. She was ready to change the subject. "Speaking of vengeance, I'm surprised you passed it up after that wedding fiasco. Well, I know there was that thing with Spike, but I kinda expected Xander's nutsack to blow up or something," she joked.

Anya looked thoughtfully into space. Now, there was an idea. "No, Dawn. Castration won't heal a broken heart," she said deadpan. "However deserved and entertaining it can sometimes be. And anyway, I've decided vengeance is overrated. I got my chance to hurt Xander back."

She shook her head against the images that came. She and Spike in the Magic Box. Xander finding out. That nasty little scene with herself, Buffy, Spike and Xander outside the building.

"It didn't feel nearly as good as I thought it would." That was an understatement.

Dawn considered Anya's situation. "A vengeance demon who thinks vengeance is overrated. What a crisis of faith that must be," she smiled.

Giles entered the front of the shop and Dawn abruptly arose to leave.

"Oh, well, gotta book. Bye, Giles!"

Anya wondered why Dawn was suddenly in such a hurry. Dawn leaned over to her before leaving. "Talk him into staying," she whispered confidentially.

Anya smiled back.

"Goodbye, Dawn," said Giles. "Excellent progress today."

Dawn smiled at him, murmured 'thanks' and exited.

Giles and Anya stood there a minute to a soundtrack of loud, awkward silence. Finally, Anya broke it.

"So, Giles. Don't leave!"

He tried to catch up to a conversation that had already left him at the gate. "I-I beg your pardon?"

Her face showed slight frustration. "Oh, I'm no good with subtlety. Dawn's afraid you're going to leave town. She wants you to stay. She said for me to talk you into it. How'm I doing?"

Giles chuckled softly. "Wonderfully, Anya. Nice segue, incidentally."

"Thanks," Anya said with a big smile. That was a compliment, wasn't it?

"What makes her think I'm leaving?" he asked. "I didn't say that."

"So you're not going back to England?"

"I didn't say that, either," he frowned. "I suppose I will at some point."

So is he leaving or not? Anya wondered. "When is some point? Is it when Buffy is in the Slayer retirement home and Dawn is married with two-point- four energy blobs and Xander is...sitting around by himself, and I'm...sitting around by myself, or is it...?

"It may be sooner than that," he clarified.

Anya looked disappointed. "Why?"

"For the same reasons as before," Giles tried to explain.

"But nobody ever really understood those reasons," Anya pointed out. "And you saw how things fell apart without you."

Giles considered this. Things had fallen apart without him, and at an alarming rate. That much wasn't debatable.

"Yes, but that was because no one was willing to accept responsibility," he argued. "Least of all Buffy. But I believe that is changing. Anyway, I thought you would want me to go. As I recall, last year you were practically ushering me through the door."

Anya was a little embarrassed at that being brought up. "That was then," she explained. "I was being narrow-minded and self- centered. Which seemed perfectly reasonable at the time."

He couldn't help but smile. "You seem to have changed a lot. I've seen the difference. Especially when I was injured. You've matured so much."

Anya couldn't help but smile back a little at this. She tried on modesty, to see if it fit. "Well, it was about time, I figured. After several thousand years, you know. Even a vengeance demon has to grow up sometime."

Her shoulders did that little bounce. Giles was bringing her out of it.

"Perhaps your demon status is only a technicality," he proposed. "What you do with that power is what's important. You haven't really been a demon for quite a while now, Anya. And you should be very proud of the woman you're becoming."

Now Anya was blushing like Fred.

"Wow. I'm not used to people saying nice things like that to me. Unless it's someone who's expecting to have sex with me. You aren't expecting to have sex with me, are you?"

"Heavens, no, Anya! All I-"

"That was a joke, Giles."

Giles relaxed, a little embarrassed. He'd just underestimated her again.

"Oh, I see. Well, I must be going. I'll be assembling the entire group here later tonight. There's a matter of urgency I have to bring before you all."

"Okay. See you then..." she responded, still touched by his kindness. "And thanks for what you said."

He studied her and felt a surprising wave of empathy. "Of course."

He turned and opened the door, but her voice stopped him on his way out. "Don't leave, Rupert," she repeated, this time quietly and with sincerity.

He just studied her face, thinking.

Fadeout.



ACT II

It was night, and the whole gang was assembled inside the Magic Box. Anya, Buffy, Dawn, Giles and Xander. Giles stood, the others sat at the table.

"I assume you all have some idea why I summoned you here," Giles began.

Xander launched into wise-crack voice. "Well, Giles, we have alcohol in the fridge, several attractive people of both sexes, and I'm pretty sure I've seen some playing cards and a Twister board around here somewhere, so do I even have to state the obvious?" He eyed Giles with an exaggerated knowing look. Grins all around.

"Maybe next time, Xander."

"The child murders?" Buffy guessed.

"Oh well, there's that," Xander reasoned absently. Then, huh? "Wait, what child murders?"

I've got their attention now at least, Giles thought. "Last night two young children were found slaughtered. The police have virtually no leads, but it sounds similar to the murder of the little boy a few days ago."

"His brother's in my class," Dawn said. "I don't know him very well, but they say he's taking it really hard. I think he was with him when it happened."

"He was?" Giles asked. "Then he must have seen the killer."

"He told some kind of tale, but nobody believed it," Dawn added. "I heard it was pretty wild. They said he was delusional and in shock and must have imagined some of it."

Ain't that what they always say?

"I need you to talk to him, Dawn," Giles urged. "Find out what he saw."

"Okay. That'll be easy enough," she said, smiling at something she'd just thought of. "He's always staring at my legs, so I'm sure he'll-"

"Wear lots of clothes when you talk to him, Dawn," Buffy interjected.

"Sure thing," Dawn smiled. Damn, it was cool to be the sex symbol for once. "But why children?"

"Oh, lots of ritual sacrifices involve the slaughtering of young children. It's probably just one of those," Anya theorized, in an off-hand, uncaring way.

They looked dismayed at her lack of concern. She catches it. Oops.

"O-okay," Dawn recovered. "So you want me to talk to Alex and find out what's doing this so we can stop it? Check."

"Yes, we must stop this evil demonic killer before more precious small humans die!" Anya loudly overcompensated.

They all gave her another WTF? look.

"What? I'm being empathetic!" she insisted. Geez, what did they want?

"Not that the deaths of children aren't terrible enough, but I'm afraid they may be a harbinger of something even more dreadful to come," Giles surmised.

"What do you mean?" Dawn asked.

It was time to let them know the gravity of the situation, Giles figured. "There was a symbol left on the ground near the bodies. Like a calling card. It matches one found at the Glass child's murder scene. Only this time, there are bite marks on the victims. This makes me think a cult of vampires may be involved."

Giles opened one of the old books laid out on the table. The place had already been marked, and he quickly flipped to it.

"Although it's not an exact match, I believe I've identified the symbol."

Giles held up the page for all to see. Next, he held the newspaper up, with the Glass kid's death as the large, bold headline. Monsters not involved, announced the sub-header. There was also an artist's rendering of the symbol. It sort of looked like a dragon.

"Okay, what does the symbol mean?" asked Buffy, afraid Giles was going somewhere end-of-the-worldy with this. Nothing else got him this excited. Unless you counted the Bay City Rollers.

"It was used to identify a being known as Mabus," Giles continued. "His name has appeared occasionally in ancient writings over the past few centuries, although the tales are mostly legend. There is no compelling evidence that he even existed at all."

"Maybe he didn't," Buffy added, hopefully. "Maybe this vampire cult just needed a symbol and adopted his."

"I would like to think you're right," Giles responded. "But something else has come to light that makes me take the Mabus legend more seriously. He also features prominently in the writings of Nostradamus."

"The guy who predicted the end of the world?" Xander asked.

"The same," answered Giles. "Nostradamus was a French seer with an amazing track record. He named Mabus his third antichrist. The first two were Napoleon and Hitler, and they both came to pass."

Another more optimistic possibility occurred to Buffy. "So, does that mean he's human, since they were?"

"It's possible he will appear as a man," Giles considered. "but he will likely be possessed by a demon. I have come to recognize some unsettling similarities between the writings referring to Mabus and an unnamed threat discussed in the Codex. And if I'm correct, then Mabus' time may have arrived."

"What makes you think?" Dawn asked.

"The Codex says that 'in the days of the Reborn, the Formless Evil, the thing that should not be, but is, shall return to claim its source."

"Reborn? Is that a reference to Buffy being brought back from the dead?" Xander guessed.

"Yes, I believe so," Giles agreed. "That is what drew me to the passage. But there's more. The Codex goes on to describe some event called the Transfiguration. Somehow, the acquisition of this 'source' will allow this being to perform this Transfiguration, although there is no discussion of what it entails."

"And why do you think this has anything to do with this Mabus character?" Buffy inquired.

"Because the same symbol appears in the Codex, connected with the Formless One."

She thought about this. Unfortunately, Giles was right. This was too much for coincidence. Well, Buffy was a woman of action. Time to move on to the battle plan.

"Let me guess. When he performs the Transmutation-" "Transfiguration." "-Whatever. This is not of the good, right?"

"According to all my resources, it will make him God," Giles announced gravely.

"A god? Like Glory?" Buffy asked misunderstanding. "Great. I had to die to stop her. I'm not the Catwoman, Giles. I'm gonna run of out lives here pretty soon."

"Not 'god' with a small g, Buffy. 'God' with a big G."

Xander tried to get some clarification on this. "As in 'Let there be light?'" he asked.

Giles shook his head. "As in 'Let there be darkness.' Eternally. And suffering and pain. If Mabus completes his Transfiguration, it will mean the end of the world as we understand it. And the beginning of the world as he wants it to be. Which is not a world I wish to live in. But at least we have a little to go on," he added hopefully. "We have the coordinates of the source's location, as well as a description of the setting in which he will first encounter it."

"Bet I won't need three guesses to figure out which town it's in," Xander predicted.

"One should suffice," said Giles.

Xander leaned back in his chair, completely unsurprised at how bad things sucked once again. "At least when you live on a Hellmouth, you never have to travel to an 'away' apocalypse," he said.

"Get to the important part," Dawn implored. "How do we stop it?"

"To perform his ritual, Mabus must first gain possession of this 'energy source,' within which his power is stored," Giles explained. "He will then siphon the source's energy and use it to become omnipotent."

That wasn't what Anya was listening to hear. "I think I missed the stopping it part. I'm sure it was in there somewhere."

Giles prepared himself to say the next part. The part he didn't want to tell them. "According to the Codex, we won't."

Silence descended on the Magic Box for a few moments as dread sank in and settled.

Suddenly, Buffy leaned over the table, her fingers stabbing excitedly in Giles' direction. "But the Codex has been wrong before-sort of."

"Yes!" Xander exclaimed, snapping his fingers. "Like when it said Buffy was going to be killed by the Master!" Oh yeah, I forgot, she was. "Well, technically, she was, but after I revived her, she went on to slay him," he remembered, hopefully.

"I agree, Xander," said Giles, without matching the younger man's optimism. "We might as well proceed with the assumption that there is still some hope of stopping him. Our best course of action would be to prevent Mabus from acquiring this source."

Buffy mentally went over her options. They weren't good ones. "So all I have to do is find some object I won't recognize and keep it away from a creature that I won't be able to identify?" she asked snarkily.

"Well.y-yes," Giles agreed, embarrassed at his inability to come up with more.

"I'll get right on it," Buffy responded. You do the best you can with what you've got. Buffy's mastered this technique over the years.

They all started to get up and leave.

"Maybe I'll be able to help with the 'what the creature looks like' part," Dawn said. "I'll talk to Alex Glass tomorrow at school."

"I'll give you a ride," Xander offered.

"Wear lots of clothes!" Buffy charged, suddenly remembering what she'd heard earlier about Alex Glass and what he liked to look at.

Anya came over and whispered privately to Dawn, "I'm not ready for the world to end. Wear a thong."

Dawn laughed.

A thought suddenly occurred to Buffy, and she voiced it to Giles. "Oh, didn't you say it tells us the setting where this Mabus will find his source? Well, since we don't know what it looks like, maybe we can just wait for him to show up looking for it."

"I'm afraid that might be our only recourse," Giles reluctantly agreed. "But you won't enjoy waiting for him there."

But before we find out what he meant by that statement, we must rejoin Dawn Summers the following afternoon. She was coming out of the high school, carrying her books. She saw her target, Alex Glass, and hurried over to him. She wore a short skirt for maximum effect on poor Dawn-struck Alex.

"Hey-it's Alex, right?"

He turned, startled. "Uh, yeah." He looked surprised she was talking to him. Like he half expected this was a part of some embarrassing set-up to make him look foolish.

"Um, I want to talk to you," she continued.

"Okay. About what?"

"Well, it's hard for me to say," she said, trying to think of a way to ease him into a discussion about his brother's murder with a virtual stranger. Hey, look at my legs, baby. And by the way, could you tell me about that thing that ripped up Benny?

He looked at her expectantly. Hard for her to say? Wasn't that the kind of thing a girl said when she was about to admit a crush? And didn't she look nervous? Was this possible?

"Well, hey, just go ahead. I mean, you can say anything to me." That was stupid. Don't be overeager, Alex. Act like this has happened before...even though it hasn't. "Well, what I meant was-"

"It's about your brother."

The pin pierced the proverbial balloon with a nearly audible pop.

Dawn saw that Alex looked disappointed. And a little pissed. He was hoping for something else, clearly. And she had kinda known he would. Counted on it, even. Now she had to try to recover. She'd started this out wrong.

"Oh. I should have known," he said bitterly. "I don't want to talk about it anymore. How many times do I have to say it? I told the truth and nobody believes me!"

"I'll believe you," she assured him.

"Why would you believe me?"

She thought about how to go about this. Deception hadn't worked. Let's go with honesty. "Let's just say I'm pretty hard to surprise. I know about this town, and I've seen a lot of things."

"This town," he began, with the resignation of a kid who'd been forced into adulthood too fast. "Yeah. There's always been something weird about this place. But this...this was..."

"Was what, Alex?"

"Why does it matter?" he dismissed. "Why do you want to know?"

"Because somebody needs to do something about it. And I might know somebody who can."

Alex studied her, trying to size up her credibility. "Okay. Here it is. Take it or leave it," he offered flatly, not sure why he had any confidence in this girl, who seconds ago was just some hot-looking babe, a little out of the reach of guys like him, and had become, in two sentences...what? Someone of substance? Someone who could offer hope? Just maybe?

"We were walking and Benny was just a few steps behind me," he said, calling upon images he'd rather bury forever. "I'm supposed to keep him close, especially after dark. Because even though the grown-ups never talk about it, I think deep down they know something's wrong in Sunnydale, too. You know?"

He looked up to see Dawn nodding. Yeah, she got it. Lots of kids did. The denial ran much deeper in the adults. If they saw something that didn't fit into the world they'd conceptualized, they'd just turn their heads, duck inside their homes, and go back to reading their sanitized newspapers and watching their dumbed-down, highly-rated television programs about caring doctors, jaded cops and divorced fathers. They didn't try to explain away the high mortality rate in Sunnydale to runaways, the hot weather making people crazy, or any other flimsy excuse like you might think. No. They just didn't talk about it at all.

"And anyway, he turned back because there was a dog," Alex continued. "Benny loved animals.and somehow I think it knew that. I think it was reading his mind."

Alex's lip was quivering now. This was hard for him, and Dawn took his hand reassuringly.

"It was hurt, and he went over to help it...but then it changed."

"Changed?" Dawn asked. "How?"

He searched for the words to describe it, but none came. None that were satisfactory. How to describe the unthinkable?

"It changed into something else. Something that wasn't a dog at all. Wasn't anything I'd ever seen before," was the best he could do. His face evinced anguish at the memory. "I told him not to touch it," he insisted, as if still trying to convince himself that he hadn't been partially responsible. That he'd done all he could to protect Benny. "but he was too close, and it touched him. It was like it was cutting him and burning him at the same time."

Dawn was thrown by that. This had turned out to be an even weirder story than she was anticipating. She had been expecting him to try to shock her with a tale of some vampire cult. Which, of course, wouldn't have shocked her at all. But even she hadn't been ready for the tale he'd told.

"And what do you think it was?" she asked.

"I don't know. It was like a combination of things...or people...or...I dunno," he admitted. He raised his head and looked up at her again, anger taking over now, clenching his fists. "But I want to kill it. Somehow, I want to pay it back."

There were no pentagrams or Wiccan symbols present. Just three women, sitting on a barren floor. Amy and Willow faced Agatha in a spacious living room in the elder sorceress's home. Everyone was quiet, concentrating. Amy and Willow were tired, having had a full day of Agatha's challenging tasks in the proper uses of magic. There had been much frustration, but much accomplishment, as well. Agatha sensed that the time to close the session was near, but she had one final lesson to impart. In fact, though neither of the girls would realize it, this final lesson was the only one of the day's activities Agatha truly deemed important.

"I think I should lighten the mood. Maybe tell you girls a story," Agatha announced, as if the idea had just occurred to her. "This is a story about hope. Or maybe it's about despair. I used to think I knew which, but now I can't be sure. This story is true. I know because I made it up myself and I'm no liar."

As Amy and Willow looked at each other curiously, the world around them dissolved. Their surroundings were replaced by swirling mists. Agatha's hands reached below her, into what should have been the floor, emerging with: A PICTURE BOOK. The title was STRAWBERRY, and it had a pretty red-haired girl on the cover. She turned a few pages and held the book out to the two younger women.

"A long time ago in another dimension much like our own, there was a beautiful princess..." Agatha began.

She held the book open to the first two pages of the story. Amy and Willow looked at the illustrations. The Princess was drawn to look a lot like Buffy, Willow noticed. She was dressed as a knight, however, and was shown battling a great dragon. Others were with her: a handsome man wearing glasses, dressed like Merlin the Magician. There was a teenage boy and a teenage girl. There was also a young man dressed as a jester, and another all in black with blonde hair. A witch was also present, with red hair and a scarlet robe. Most of them looked unsettlingly familiar.

"But don't think this is your ordinary story," assured Agatha. "Oh, no. This princess needed no knights to save her. In fact, she was the greatest warrior in her kingdom. She fought off invading armies and slew beasts. But one day, she angered even the gods themselves..."

She showed them another illustration. The Princess was facing off against an angry disembodied head in the sky. It looked to Willow like Glory.

"And the brave Princess defeated the evil goddess," Agatha said, turning a couple of pages at once, skipping over material she apparently considered extraneous. "but the victory came with a price, as the princess herself died in the effort."

Next page: The Princess was drawn lying amidst wreckage, her friends all crying around her. It looked just like the scene at the foot of Glory's tower when they'd found Buffy's lifeless body, except for the medieval costumes.

"And the entire kingdom mourned for her," Agatha sadly intoned. "But there were some who decided mourning wasn't enough. The Fool, who was really no fool at all, and his friend The Witch, whose name was Strawberry, decided to bargain with the Fates for the Princess' return."

Another page. Now there were three people sitting around a wooden table, discussing something. Strawberry held a cat, stroking it. The Fool was there, as well. Next to him was a creature that looked a lot like Anya, except she was veiny, more like Anyanka.

"But of course whenever one does business with the Fates, there is a price to be paid," Agatha warned.

She turned another page in the fairy tale book. Willow leaned in to examine it closely. Strawberry looked to the sky, holding out her arms, as if offering to the heavens. She was standing in a pasture filled with cows, horses, goats, chickens and other assorted animals.

"Strawberry offered the gods their choice of her finest animals as a sacrifice," Agatha explained. "She asked them which they wanted. She would butcher any of them if it would bring back The Princess."

She turned the page again. Everyone was jubilant, standing around the Princess's death-bed. The Princess had awakened. The people were all laughing and smiling (except the Princess herself, who only looked confused). Agatha continued her narrative.

"The gods answered her prayer even before she had finished praying it-"

Willow's mind flashed immediately back to the Hellions' interruption of her ceremony to return Buffy before she had completed it.

"-and the life flowed back into the body of the Princess. Strawberry was happy and proud at her accomplishment, and the people all hailed her as a hero."

On the following page, the witch was smiling, surveying her animals.

"Then when Strawberry realized that not a single one of her animals was missing, she praised the Goddess for Her kindness and mercy. But then when she returned to her home..."

Agatha turned the page. The girls saw Strawberry crying, holding the cat. "...she found that her pet housecat, the one thing she loved even more than the Princess, even more than life itself, was dead."

Amy's face registered shock that her grandmother would tell this story to Willow. Willow was also stunned, visibly upset and confused, on the verge of tears. Agatha met her eyes, not backing down, her voice quiet, but steady and determined.

"She never considered that the Fates might take away the animal that was least valuable in trade, but most valuable in her heart."

Another page was turned and Strawberry was raging at the sky, power crackling off her. "Now the young Witch cursed the Goddess and the Fates, declaring that she would worship the devil!" said Agatha, her voice growing louder.

On the next page, The Witch was firing lightning bolts and the people were fleeing in terror. A bolt had even struck the Princess, who had fallen, her body smoking and unconscious. The castle was on fire, wreckage everywhere. Fairy-tale Armageddon.

"She grew to resent the Princess, even trying to destroy the very kingdom itself. And she would have succeeded, too. But only the Fool was wise enough to figure out how to stop her, for he was not really a fool at all," Agatha reminded them.

The Fool was drawn kneeling at the Witch's feet, badly injured. Still, he wrapped his arms around her legs in a gesture of love. Strawberry had lost her fury, now looking sad and beaten.

Agatha's wrinkled hands turned the page. Now Willow could see the Fool and The Witch embraced, sobbing together, as she and Xander had done four months earlier.

Agatha closed the book. Here endeth the lesson.

"Grandmother.?" Amy asked, hoping there was some point to this other than cruelty. She had brought her friend here to help her put all this behind her, and now Amy's own grandmother had taunted her with it.

"And what was the point of telling me that story?" Willow demanded angrily. "Are you saying I killed Tara? That she was punished for me bringing back Buffy? Why do you call me the same name Rack did? And where did you get that BOOK?

If she expected direct answers, she was disappointed.

"The point is that magic always has consequences. Always," she repeated emphatically. "You must never forget that. And as far as the book goes..."

Agatha fanned the pages so both girls could see that the story was far from finished. "well, as you can see, there are many more pages," she said with wonderment. "And I have read them all. And tomorrow, I will read more of them to you."

She smiled maternally now, seemingly convinced she had defused the tension in the room. Not so.

"I don't think I want to hear them," Willow muttered.

"Oh, yes you do, child," Agatha disagreed. "The most exciting chapters are yet to be come. There is more love, another beautiful girl, there's also a snake, maybe a mermaid. And lots and lots of magic and triumph. You won't want to miss it."

Agatha decided the book had been sufficiently pimped. Besides, she had a captive audience for it, after all. With more than a little effort, she got up off the floor.

"Well, I must retire for now. When you're my age, you have to go to bed several times a day...and pray you can fall asleep before you need to pee again," she said, lapsing back into Grandma mode again.

The girls got up too, figuring story time must be over. The mists had receded, the room normal again. Amy and Willow exchanged nervous looks. On her way out of the room, Agatha turned back to Willow, as if with an afterthought.

"Did you ever wonder why we so rarely find our happy endings?" she posed. "It's because our expectations seldom resemble reality. And we never realize the important moments of our lives while they are happening, or our greatest gifts when they are offered to us." She paused to allow them to contemplate her words, then continued. "There's a reason for that, too. It's the story of how stories began. I've heard it said that all our lives were planned out in advance. Scripted eons before we were born."

Amy and Willow looked to Agatha, hooked again despite themselves.

"A young angel was dispatched to carry all the pages of all those stories to earth. If she had succeeded in her task, I suspect our lives would have all had storybook endings." Agatha placed a hand on her chin, as if just now considering this.

"But unfortunately, she fell during her descent, and the pages scattered to the winds." Agatha threw her hands outward, as if acting out the action of the story. "She frantically tried to put them back in order, but the pages weren't numbered, for this was before the days of numbers."

Another pregnant pause, then she resumed, this time without the hand gestures, this time with seriousness.

"And she reassembled all the pages, but unfortunately, some of the pages from one story would get mixed up with the pages of another, and vice versa. And some of the characters got merged with others. Who knows which ones, but I get the feeling maybe the beautiful girl in the red cape and the Wicked Witch got mixed together. Maybe the Princess rejected her prince because he looked too much like a demon. Maybe one of the princes got mixed up with the Big Bad Wolf."

Willow wasn't sure about the analogies, but knew they were meant for her, or those she loved. Was she talking about Buffy and Angel?...or Spike? And was Spike the Big Bad Wolf? He called himself the "Big Bad," didn't he? Wolf? Might that be Oz?

Agatha fixed Willow with a disturbing glare, freezing her in mid-thought.

"Yes...I'm quite certain that is what happened," she finished. "Goodnight, girls."

Agatha left a bewildered Amy and Willow as she turned and started up the extended stairway.

Fade to Black.





ACT III

Buffy and Dawn waited for Mabus to arrive. It was night. They were standing on what they expected to be the final battlefield, either for themselves or for the thing that would be God. Standing in the midst of discarded appliances, paper products and food. Standing in the trash. The fate of the Universe was about to be decided with the city dump as the backdrop.

"Wow," Buffy said, her nose wrinkling against the aroma of spoiled food. "Your friend Alex's story does sound pretty crazy. Must be true," she reasoned.

"Of course," Dawn agreed brightly, using the Hellmouth logic that had served them well in the past.

"Battle-scarred Sunnydale veterans like us'll believe about anything, I guess," Buffy added.

"Yeah. But why did he have to pick the smelliest place in town for the big confrontation?" Dawn wondered.

"I guess this is where the source is," Buffy assumed. "Anyway, this is just the kind of place those sickening behemoths always hang out. It could have been worse. It could have been the sewer."

"I guess," Dawn shrugged. "Wonder which piece of garbage is the source?"

They surveyed the piles of trash.

"Search me. This has to be the stinkiest apocalypse ever," Buffy observed. "I still can't believe I let you come here to face the hideous cut-and-burn monster. Some well-meaning social worker should hang me from one of those trees over there," Buffy decided, pointing at the woods nearby.

"Buffy, we've been through this," Dawn countered, tired of the endless continuations of this argument. "You said you wanted to show me the world, not hide me away from it. Well, this is our world."

Buffy looked around at the trash dump. "What a depressing thought."

They looked at each other in a moment of bonding. Buffy wasn't a normal girl, and neither was her sister. Not really. That was just the way it is. And at that moment, at least, Buffy was all right with that.

"Y'know, I can see your point," Dawn laughed. "This is the kind of place where you just expect an evil disgusting thing to pop up at any minute."

"Hi, Pet! Had a feeling you might show up here,"

They recognized the voice and the footsteps before they even saw him. At least he knows his cue, Buffy thought briefly. When he emerged from the shadows, into the nightlights of the trash heap, neither of them knew how to react. They were both stunned.

"Spike? You're back??" Dawn shouted, open-mouthed.

Buffy was shocked, too. It was him all right. Looking exactly as she remembered. Short, slicked hair, almost white. Black shirt, black jeans, black duster. (Duster? Something seems wrong about that. Why is that?) Buffy groaned internally. There was so much to sort out with him, but this wasn't the time.

"I so don't have time to deal with you right now, Spike. So whatever you're doing here, do it someplace else."

Spike had never been one to be dismissed easily, but this time he surprised her. "Fair enough. Soon as I take what's mine."

One thing came immediately to mind. She blurted it without thinking. "You already tried that, remember?"

If the words stung, he didn't show it. The trademark cockiness was evident as always. "Always think it's about you, don't you, Slayer?"

"That's because where you're concerned, it always is. I'm serious, Spike. I don't have time."

"Meeting someone? What's he look like?" he baited. "What's his name?"

"Jealous?" Buffy retorted. They'd quickly reverted to the usual routine. Just like she remembered it.

"Are you sure you'd know him even if he was standing right in front of you?" Spike posed with a look that said he had information she wasn't privy to.

"What are you getting at?" she asked, beginning to get a little nervous. Something was slightly off about this. "Why are you here? Are you stalking me again?"

"You picked the place," he responded, as if she'd chosen something as mundane as a restaurant for the three of them to eat dinner at. "I'm just here to retrieve my source."

Now Buffy was even further confused.

"Huh? You're claiming to be Formless Thing or whatever? That's ridiculous. How do you even know about him?"

"Went on a walkabout," Spike leered. "Met someone. He showed me some things. Demons have souls, too, pet. Just not human ones."



Souls? What's he on about souls for?

"Mine's very old," he continued. "Been passed down through several bodies before this one. Centuries. I was once very powerful. No love's bitch. No Slayer's lapdog. Now I'm reclaiming my power. Becoming what I once was. And then you'll get what you deserve...bitch."

She didn't know what the hell he was going on about, but now she was pissed.

"All right then," Buffy agreed, "let's do it."

She went into fighting stance. He circled her, the leer even more pronounced. This was "School Hard" Spike. Somewhere during his travels, he must have gotten his rocks back. "Are we dancing again, luv, or is it for real this time?"

"This is the last dance, Spike."

"We better make it memorable, then," he goaded, opening his arms in an inviting gesture. "C'mon, Slayer, give it to me good this time."

"You want me, here I am. And this time I won't have any problem doing what I should have done a long time ago."

"Neither will I. Not after what you did. Not now that I know what you are!" Dawn interjected. They'd pretty much forgotten about her. "I can't believe I ever thought you were my friend," she spat, the hurt raw and alive in her voice.

"But again, why here?" Buffy asked.

"Again, because this is where the source of my power is," he explained, as if to a special ed student. "You chose the place."

"But I'm just here because that's where the Codex said the enemy would be," Buffy said with confusion.

Both looked puzzled at this. Their brains spun. She was beginning to feel like Beer Bad Buffy. He was here because she was here; she was here because she knew he'd be-ah, screw it.

"Hmm. Well...self-fulfilling prophecy, I guess," Spike shrugged.

"Whatever," Buffy accepted, not really wanting to forced to think about it any more. That was Giles' job. "So where and what is this source, so I can go ahead and kick your ass and take it home?"

"Where is it?" Spike posed rhetorically with a here-comes-the-best-part pause. "Why, you were nice enough to bring it to me FROM home."

???

"What are you...?"

Realization finally hit her. She and Dawn looked at each other. "Dawn," Buffy said, her voice dropping with dread.

"B-but I'm not a source," Dawn pleaded. "I'm not the key anymore, remember?" she argued, hoping she was reaching him.

"You're not Glory's key anymore," he corrected. "But that doesn't mean you can't be mine."

"Have you forgotten, Spike? You can't beat me," Buffy stated. "And even if you could, you can't hurt Dawn. The chip, remember?" She pointed to her head.

Drusilla emerged from the shadows. "Hasn't our boy told you, yet? Shame, Spike, leaving out such important and glorious details," she cooed giddily.

"Ah yes," said Spike. "About the chip. I don't think that's gonna to be a problem anymore. After-effect of my little jaunt, it seems. And anyway, I've got Dru to take care of the platelet. So I'm all yours, lucky girl."

Dawn vs. Dru? Buffy didn't like those odds. She lunged at Spike, trying to take him out quickly, but he spun around behind her and grabbed her in a chokehold. Buffy fought to free herself.

That's right. Struggle," he taunted her. "I like that. Think the Nibblet's doing any better with Dru? I'm through being your willing slave, Slayer. And after I've drained the source and claimed my power, I'll make you mine."

At that thought, and for Dawn's sake, Buffy gained strength. She elbowed Spike in the head and turned around to face him, delivering a powerful roundhouse punch. Knocked off his feet, Spike flew backward.

The other Summers, however, was beaten before she began. Dru was hypnotizing Dawn with her fingers, just as she'd done to Kendra years earlier. Dawn had slipped easily under Dru's spell and into a trance. Buffy was running out of time.

"I'll never be your slave, Spike! I'll never be your anything."

"You'll do whatever I want," he countered. "After my transformation, I'll be omnipotent."

"After the transformation I'm going to give you, you'll be impotent!" she quipped.

They mixed it up again, tackling each other simultaneously. Rolling them over, Buffy came out on top, but just as she prepared to stake Spike, she was stopped by Dawn's voice.

"Buffy!!!!" Buffy turned to find Drusilla behind Dawn, holding her, a blade-like nail against the terrified girl's throat.

"Uh-uh, Slayer," Drusilla admonished. "Mummy's changing the rules. New game, it is."

Buffy froze. What could she do? Spike realized the hopelessness of her situation and laughed in triumph as he got back to his feet.

"I have my key and I'm gonna rule this world, Slayer, and nobody can prevent it."

He seemed to have a pretty strong argument at this point, but she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction.

"Somehow I'll stop you, Spike," she vowed. "I don't know how yet, but when this Transfiguration comes, I'll stand against you."

"Then you'll be standing in your grave," he warned, his voice full of edge.

Suddenly, he lifted the remains of an old discarded piano (wait, he can't lift that) and tossed it at Buffy. She tried to shield herself, but it crashed down on her, pinning her. He then piled various heavy objects painfully, noisily down on top of her. She started trying to dig out from the rubble as he stood back, satisfied, arms folded, watching her struggle.

"Well, isn't this appropriate?" he figured. "I seem to remember you dropped a musical instrument on me once, as well."

"Spike, no. Please," Buffy responded weakly. She wouldn't plead, not for herself. But Dawn's life, that was worth any degradation. "I'm the one that humiliated you. Do what you want to me, but Dawn's innocent. Don't hurt her!"

"Looks like I overestimated you. Again," he said, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "Like when I said you weren't the begging type. This makes the second time I've heard you beg."

The cruelest taunt imaginable served as his parting shot.

And Spike and Drusilla left, carrying a squealing Dawn with them. Buffy tried to rise and go after them, but she couldn't. Almost as an afterthought, Spike turned back to her.

"And Buffy...I wouldn't want you to miss my big show. Be at the mansion at midnight," he ordered. "You know the one. You and the Great Poofter spent many a night there, I'd wager. Do it for me, pet. It just wouldn't be the same without you."

"Dawn," Buffy cried in frustration and failure, "...no."

"He's back? It was really him?"

Giles was in utter disbelief. It didn't surprise him that Spike would one day return to Sunnydale. In fact, if the truth were told, he'd always felt deep down that Spike's involvement with his life, and Buffy's, was far from over, despite the vampire's extended absence. But never had he imagined that the next encounter would be so contentious. So unbelievably horrible. Spike had seemed to be on some kind of journey, but apparently it had taken a turn Rupert Giles would never have anticipated.

"It was him, without a doubt," Buffy assured. "And he's back just like he was when we first met him. Cocky and evil. Except he's even stronger. He could have never picked up that piano before. And now he's got Dawn."

"He's not back like that, Buffy," Xander corrected, "he's always been like that. It's your attraction to him that kept you from seeing it."

Buffy just looked down, pondering this. Could that be true? Could she have read Spike's feelings for her so wrong? Was Xander right that it was just a sick obsession, that there were no genuine feelings at all other than the desire to possess? The evidence was there, wasn't it? Hadn't those questions been answered amongst the refuse earlier tonight? She just didn't like the answers. Buffy decided that she may never know exactly what Spike, who could sometimes be so gentle, at least with her and Dawn, but sometimes more frightening than anyone she'd ever met, had really felt about her. But he had apparently made a decision after that horrifying night in the bathroom. Either this was the path he'd wanted to take, or he had decided it was the only one left available to him. That she'd shut all other doors in his face. Whatever his reasons, they weren't important now. Saving Dawn. That's all that mattered.

"You're right," she finally admitted. "I should have killed him a long time ago. If I had, he wouldn't have Dawn now. It's my fault. They're going to kill her and it's my fault."

Buffy sounded hopeless, defeated. Xander gave her a gentle hug, feeling no triumph in having his views vindicated at Buffy and Dawn's expense.

"I'm sorry, Buffy," he said sincerely. "The last thing I want to do is to lay blame or make you feel worse. And I'm sorry I was right about Spike."

She looked up at him appreciatively. "But you were right about him. And I won't be confused about that again."

Thank God for that at least, Xander thought. That Buffy would never again put herself at risk by being vulnerable around Spike, by giving him an opening.

"Regardless of who is right about whom, it is clear that we'll have to find some course of action," said Giles, steering the conversation toward strategy. "He may already be performing the Transfiguration. If so, it will be too late for Dawn, and maybe for all of us. When he completes it, he will be unstoppable. Godlike."

"He's not doing it yet," Buffy declared, remembering an important detail. "It happens at midnight."

"And he just told you this?" Xander asked, surprised.

"Yeah, he did."

"What exactly did he say?" Anya asked her. She'd had sex with Spike just months ago, he'd said such comforting things, and now...?

"He said he plans to use Dawn to perform his so-called transfiguration in the mansion where Angel used to live. He's going to kill her unless we walk into a trap," Buffy stated flatly.

"So...?" Anya followed.

"So we walk into a trap."

"But why would Spike tell you where and when he's performing the ritual?" Anya asked, bothered by how illogical that would be. "He knows we'll try to stop him."

Buffy had already considered this and come to a conclusion. "He wants us to. He thinks we can't stop him and he wants us to have to watch. It makes it...better for him. He's bitter. He says he wants to give me what I deserve."

And then you'll get what you deserve...bitch.

"Well, I say we go give HIM what HE deserves," Xander responded, ready to quit with the talking and start with the staking. But Giles was still annoyed by the missing pieces of this puzzle.

"But here's the part I can't reconcile," he pondered aloud. "How does this mesh with the story the Glass boy told Dawn?"

Buffy's thoughtful frown showed she'd forgotten all about that.

"It doesn't. I guess he was just in shock when he saw vampires. Remembered it wrong."

Giles didn't quite buy it. "Perhaps..."

"It doesn't matter," Buffy dismissed. "We have to play Spike's game. We have no choice."

Barely an hour later, Anya, Buffy, Giles and Xander arrived at the mansion where another vampire lover of Buffy's once lived. Angel's former home. They walked up to the door.

"So this is the place?" Xander asked doubtfully. It looked deserted. Dark.

"He said the mansion where Angel used to live," Buffy restated. "Look, it's even got his dooflatchy on it."

They looked at the side of the mansion. The dragon-like symbol was painted there, very large. Couldn't miss it. Yep, this must be the place. But Giles was still uncomfortable with the information at hand.

"Something doesn't fit. I still don't see how Spike could be Mabus. That entity is at least hundreds of years old, if not thousands. And grand plans of world domination have never interested him before."

"He said he'd been on some vision quest. Found his calling. He's been resurrected lots of times. Something like that," said Buffy, in an unconcerned tone. "Anyway, who cares? Let's just kill him and get Dawn."

"You make it sound so simple," a scared Anya observed.

"Simple. Yeah. Things have finally gotten simple for me where Spike is concerned," Buffy decided. "He's the vampire. I'm the Slayer. How could I have forgotten? All right. Here goes."

Suddenly, someone ran up to them, shotgun in hand. Anya saw the gun and screamed. Xander simply yanked the gun out of his hands.

"Who are you, kid?" Xander asked, trying to intimidate the boy into seeking a safer hang-out this night.

"I'm-I'm Alex," the boy stuttered, sufficiently intimidated. "Where's Dawn?"

"She's inside," Buffy answered. "Now what are you doing here?"

"I've been following you," he admitted.

"I would ask why, but I'm far too busy," said Giles, patting him pedantically. "Go home, son. We're doing something that doesn't concern you."

"It does concern me," Alex insisted. "And I'm not going home. I know what you're doing. You're gonna face it."

Buffy faced him. "You have no idea what's on the other side of that door."

"Yes, I do! I'm the only one that does! It killed my brother!"

"So you must be Alex," said Anya, over-acting, "I'm so sorry for your loss."

Buffy skipped the pleasantries. "No. You don't know, Alex. Dawn told me that story of yours. Well, it wasn't like that. It wasn't a slouching, hulking, steaming thing. Just some guy I know. But he's a guy you don't want to meet. And he might have friends with him."

"I'm going-"

The door opened on its own. The lights were out. Forgetting about sending Alex home, they all crept inside, Xander leading the way. He pointed a flashlight with one hand, the shotgun in the other. Nothing. Tension builds.

Suddenly, flamed lanterns ignited all over the building. Xander could see now, although the light was dim. Weapons hung all over the mansion's walls. Vamps everywhere.

Vampires came flooding toward them. Buffy faced them, a stake in each hand. The old Buffy was back, fighting vamps and staking left and right with abandon. Ashes filled the air around her as she staked, punched and kicked furiously.

Xander fired the shotgun a couple of times, then had it knocked from his grasp.

Buffy was about to be blindsided, when Giles hit her would-be attacker from behind. The vampire turned around pissed, but Giles shut its growl with a quick staking.

Another vampire went down as Xander punched him. He kicked down yet another and bent to apply the staking. Xander was fighting like soldier-Xander now.

Giles staked another vamp, then turned to pull one off of Anya.

Alex tried to throw a punch, but he was clearly terrified, in over his head. One vamp took him out with a jab to the nose. Another picked him up, but did not bite him.

The tide was turning, and not for the better. Giles was double-teamed and tackled by two vampires. They pounded away and he disappeared under a hail of blows.

As she was engaged with an opponent in front of her, someone struck Buffy in the back of the head with something heavy. Dazed, she tried to turn and fight, but a fist connected with her face. Her world became dreamy, slo-mo. She saw her stake flying through the air. Buffy fell to the floor with a heavy crash. Nearly out of it, she tried to raise her head. She saw only Spike looking down at her, smiling.

"Let me lend a hand, luv," Spike's fist flew toward her face, and upon impact, her world went...

Black.



ACT IV

Buffy came slowly around to a world of blurry. Gradually, it slipped into focus, and Buffy began to realize that she was chained to the wall of the mansion, just as she had been years earlier. Except then, she hadn't really been chained. It had been a ruse, part of the plan she and Angel had devised to trick Faith into revealing Mayor Wilkins' plans for his Ascension. She tested the restraints and found that this time they were securely fastened. Not only that, but whoever had chosen them had made sure to find strong enough steel to hold even a Slayer. A look around revealed to Buffy that she wasn't the only one. Alex, Anya, Giles and Xander were each chained to the walls of the expansive room.

Dawn lay on a table in the middle of the room, tied down, looking like a virgin sacrifice from a Satanic horror movie. Spike and Drusilla stood next to Dawn and in front of Buffy, flanked by their vampire henchmen.

"I know how things ended with us," Buffy said. "But Spike, how could you do this to me? How could you do this to Dawn?" She wasn't trying to reason with him anymore. She just wanted to understand.

Drusilla's body snaked around Spike suggestively, her hands caressing him. "You rejected our boy," the vampiress explained, "Now he's back where he belongs."

"I sure am, my princess," he agreed lovingly, sinking back into her embrace. "Back to stay."

"Then it was all a lie? You never loved me?" Buffy asked. "Guess I was right about you! I knew you couldn't love!"

"'S not about love, my sweet," Drusilla explained patiently, savoring a moment she must have been dreaming of for the nearly two years since Spike had rejected her, saving the blonde Slayer from her clutches when she had tried to reclaim his love. "'S about forgiveness. You could never forgive our poor boy for being bad. But I can forgive him for being good." She turned to Spike darkly. "As long as it NEVER happens again. Or mummy would be very cross, indeed."

"Never again, ducks," he promised, and they kissed garishly, making Buffy grimace. Dawn just cried in despair at his betrayal. Finally pulling free from Dru's cool lips, Spike walked over to Dawn and placed his hands above her in a grandiose manner. He appeared ready to perform the ritual, whatever it was. Inexplicably, steam began to rise off of Spike as he pulled out a crystal object. Some sort of sphere.

Against another wall, Buffy could hear Alex Glass, whose whimpers were becoming louder. "We're all gonna die, aren't we?" he asked, fearing he already knew the answer. "We're gonna die just like my brother."

"Well, you just had to come," reminded Anya, who was chained next to him. Here she was with the power of teleportation, but her hands were bound and she could not touch her amulet. She was just as helpless as the humans.

"Ahh, yes, the key's power seeks me out," Spike breathed, almost rapturous, orgasmic. "draws me toward it."

He didn't sound like Spike at all, Buffy thought, and at that instant, she finally realized what had been bugging her earlier. She voiced it aloud to no one in particular, not even sure why it mattered.

"Spike! He's wearing his duster! But that's impossible! He left it at my house."

That was how Xander had known Spike had been with her that last fateful night she had seen him. After she had thwarted his desperate attempts to force himself on her, they had both seemed equally shaken at the realization of what he had tried to do. He had run out (in fear? self- disgust? humiliation?) quickly, never thinking about the coat over the banister, and then had left town without ever retrieving it. Now, he was wearing it, which was-

"Buffy!!!" Dawn screamed in vain, shocking Buffy out of her line of thought before she could reach its conclusion.

"Go ahead. Prove my point," Xander dared, trying to think of something, anything to say to buy Dawn just a few more seconds. A few more seconds for Buffy or someone to do...something. "I always told them you were nothing but a filthy animal."

Spike turned back around to address this. "Sorry, but reverse psychology doesn't work on psychopaths," he explained, suddenly sounding like Spike again. "At least not now that I've embraced my inner Big Bad."

"Listen to me, Spike," Buffy commanded, quiet and determined. "Because no matter what happens, I want you to know this. You are the most disgusting creature I've ever met in my life. That I ever believed any differently is the stupidest thing I've ever thought. Letting you touch me is the most loathsome thing I've ever done. You are a sick, demented coward. A rapist and a murderer. And the worst mistake I ever made is not putting you down years ago like the mad dog you are."

Suddenly, the Spike that was threatening Dawn BURST INTO ASHES. Drusilla and the other vamps stood, mouths agape. They turned to face...ANOTHER SPIKE? He held a long jagged piece of wood. A look at Buffy, Dawn and the Scoobies showed that they were just as surprised. The sphere lay on the floor, unbroken and unnoticed.

"Can't disagree with a word you said, love," Spike said regretfully, then turned his attention to the vampires. "All right, wankers. You've had your best shot. Now it's my turn."

"Sp-Spike? What's going on?!" Buffy asked.

"Yes, Dru," added Spike. "What is going on? And who was that bloke who was almost as good-looking as me?"

The other vampires were backing away a bit, suddenly not so confident without their seemingly invincible master, who was now smoldering ashes on the floor. But Dru stood firm. Her agenda was different, after all. She had known much more than the lackeys, and had in fact counted on this happening.

"Just a substitute.until I could get the real thing back," she said, devotion in her eyes. "And now you're here!"

She moved to embrace him, but he shoved her away. Her lips quivered. No, it wasn't supposed to be like this. He had told her that Spike had done something unforgivable in Buffy's eyes. That his bridges were burned with that wretched Slayer and her contemptible friends forever. That this plan would bring him back somehow, and that he would have no other option than to join with them, become a family again. Why was he still helping Buffy?

"Angel's place??" wondered Spike, looking around, speaking loudly and to everyone. "You thought I'd move into that blighter's house? What a pisser!"

The dumbest vamp in the room's wheels were turning. "But I thought you...?"

"Yeah, well, don't hurt yourself," Spike advised the slow-witted henchman. "I can see thinking it'n your strong suit."

"He must be destroyed!" decreed a female vamp who had recovered from the shock better than most of the room.

"I have been, doll," Spike said sadly. "Don't you fret about that."

Following the female vamp, who had emerged as the only willing leader, the vampires attacked Spike. He whirled through them, fists flying, eyes blazing, vamp bodies and dust flying.

Dawn looked hopefully up from the table, wanting to believe, but still not sure she dared to. "Is it you, Spike??"

Spike tried to answer while he was busy fighting. "It's complicated, Nibblet!" was all he could come up with.

Spike was down to one attacker now. They grappled, the vamp holding Spike's arm to keep the stake away. It would be easy, Spike thought, except he had lost so much strength over the last four months. Time to change tactics. Spike leaned over and bit into the other vampire's throat. He'd always prided himself on being the dirtiest player in the game. The other vamp fell to his knees, then on down, face-first, his hand going limp around Spike's wrist. Spike applied the stake, then turned around. He was in vamp- face, blood pouring out of his open mouth and down his chin. He grinned, enjoying the kill. He looked to the entire room a truly a monstrous sight.

"I've changed," he said. "Can't anyone see the difference?" Everyone on both sides stared at him as if looking at a space alien.

The remaining handful of vamps backed away, afraid to take him on. This group had been spectators since their leader's demise, anyway. Drusilla edged closer, though.

"You wouldn't hurt mummy, would you, Spike?" she appealed.

"Well, not usually, no. But if that bleeder weren't me, then I'd wager you aren't Drusilla. So, mummy, let's have at it, then."

For the first time, she was afraid of him. She had to make him understand. "It is me, Spike. He promised if I joined him, he'd bring you home to me. And in a way, he did. Now you're here. It can be like it once was. You can be what you used to be."

Her eyes pleaded for him to accept her invitation. She had saved him from a life of hopeless mediocrity once. No matter what changes he'd gone through, she was sure she could do it again if given the chance. She had to make him see. But Spike took her words a different way, reflecting on the recent choice he'd made. One he'd thought would absolve him, erase his past failings, but had instead only magnified them.

"Funny," he said humorlessly. "That's exactly what I used to think. But I was wrong."

Spike pulled out a blade and walked to the table where Dawn lay strapped and helpless. She gasped at the knife, having no idea what he might be preparing to do. But he simply used it to sever Dawn's ties. She jumped up off the table and stared at him, indecision on her face. He pulled an axe down, one of the many weapons which had been hanging on the mansion wall, and handed it over to Dawn. She took it expressionlessly and she moved over to Buffy, starting to hack at the chains. His unbeating heart sank at Dawn's apprehension, but he couldn't say it was unexpected. If she'd used that axe to hack off his head, he wouldn't think it unjust.

"Don't blame you, Li'l Bit," he said, looking shamefully into eyes that still regarded him suspiciously. "I've given you good enough reason to hate me, I imagine."

Buffy, still chained, tried urgently to get Spike's attention. "Spiiiike! Behind you!"

Buffy, due to the direction she was facing, saw something Spike did not. He had presumed victory too soon. Behind him, the ashes that had been his doppelganger had started to regather, becoming another creature. He turned around to find...The Master.

"Note to self," began the Master's deep, reverberating voice, "hire more competent lackies. Well, no matter. This won't interfere with my fun. After all, they were just decoration. So, Spike, ready to play the hero? Save the humans? You heard what she thinks of you. Think she'll love you then? Maybe a grateful shag?

"What do you know of it?" Spike asked, not in the mood for these taunts.

"Oh, more than you think, William. Much more than you think."

Spike was suddenly uncomfortable. Who was this? Was he really the Master? And the way he'd said "William." Did he know?

"So you're the new Slayer," The Master noted, turning his attention to Buffy. "You're not as pretty as the last one."

"I was the last one, dumbass!" Buffy answered, offended.

"Oh, well," he said, with a dismissive flip of a gloved hand. "Sorry. Guess you've aged." He turned to his lackeys. "Okay, thralls! Fair fights are overrated! Seize them!!"

Dawn screamed as a couple of vamps grabbed her before she had finished chopping through Buffy's chains with the axe.

Here they come again, Spike thought, reinvigorated by their leader's resurrection. Spike jumped on a table to fight. He was punching and staking again, successful in the short run, but soon the numbers got to him and he was overwhelmed, pulled off the table. He struggled against them, but he was weakening. Buffy strained against her chains to no avail. Now The Master walked calmly over to Dawn, the plan having reached the stage of completion.

Spike fought even more desperately as The Master grabbed Dawn by the hair. The chained Scoobies yelled and screamed in frustration and fear. The Master deliberately pulled the sphere back out.

"You failed her before, didn't you?" he speaks softly to Spike. "Now, you've failed her again."

Dawn's desperate eyes looked at Spike with the same panicked expression he'd seen hundreds of times before, in nightmares that still came, even to this day. He would never be able to escape that terrifying moment that had passed between them when both had realized that Doc was going to throw him off that bridge. That he had failed this girl that he had sworn above all things to protect until the end of the world. I'm counting on you to protect her. Buffy had counted on him, Dawn had believed in him, and he had failed them when it had mattered the most. Failed the two people in the world he had most wanted to come through for, to have see him as something other than a demon. I know you'll never love me. Because I'm a monster. But you treat me like a man, and that's- But it was happening again. He was failing again and Buffy would die all over again because of it, and this time there'd be no saving the Nibblet either. That's when it occurred to Spike that maybe he hadn't survived the trials in Africa after all. Maybe he had failed, and died. Died and gone to Hell. And this was his Hell. Failing Buffy and Dawn, again and again, for all eternity. Seeing Dawn's eyes, begging him to save her. Never doing anything faster, more clever. Every night I save you. Failing eternally.

"Oh, God, Dawn! NO!!" he screamed with greater terror than he'd ever known.

Drusilla was failing, too. This was not going as she had been had promised. Although it looked like her accomplice was going to get what he came here for, she wasn't. She'd accepted she couldn't love a man who couldn't kill, didn't want to spend the rest of her days feeding scraps to a neutered vampire, especially one who was tainted by thoughts of Buffy Summers. Blood and sex, they were inseparable. When he had lost the ability to draw blood, his virility had diminished so greatly in her eyes, even more so than when he had been paralyzed. But if their four years apart had proven anything to her, it was that she had been right in what she'd said to Buffy when Spike had chained them both to the wall. Vampires can love, if not wisely. And she loved Spike, toothless or not, and had never come close to replacing what they'd had. Who really cared if this ogre found his source and completed his silly ritual or not? If it wouldn't bring her Spike back, then it was as worthless as a drained corpse. And worse, after the Slayer's little sister was killed, Spike would likely blame Drusilla for her part in it, wouldn't he? Then he might hate her forever. There might be no going back. She had to do something. Had to show him that, unlike that undeserving Slayer, he could count on her to always stand with him.

"NOOOOOOO!!!!!" Drusilla screamed, and ran over to the three vamps who were holding Spike. She jumped on the back of the nearest one, her long, sharp fingernails clawing his eyeballs. He screamed and lost his grip on Spike.

Spike made it count. With his right arm free, he reached out and grabbed one of the torches that had been providing the dim lighting. He slung it into the vampire behind him, setting him on fire. Then he punched the one next to him, knocking him off-balance.

Off to the side, Drusilla had her fingers buried into the eyes of the vamp she'd pulled off of Spike. He was screaming in agony. Her teeth ripped into his throat.

The Master just waited confidently as Spike charged him, stake poised to slay.

Buffy threw all her strength into breaking free of her chains, which had been weakened by Dawn's chopping with the axe. They shattered as she freed herself and ran for Dawn and The Master.

Spike got there first, but The Master was ready. He dropped Dawn and casually grabbed Spike, spinning him round and easily slamming him into the wall. Spike's stake dropped to the floor.

"Buffy.get.Dawn.go!" Spike struggled, barely able to form words. He screamed, and Buffy saw that it was because he was burning. Steaming drops of liquid seeped from the Master's body, dripping to the floor, causing the surface to dissolve. It was like acid. But Buffy didn't waver. She now had enough time to strike. She picked one of the weapons off the floor, broke it in half, and shoved it through the Master from behind.

He turned around, wood protruding from his chest. Buffy stood there stunned. The Master only smiled and backhanded her to the floor, steaming liquid burning the surface near her feet.

Buffy lay in a heap on the floor, looking up at the triumphant form of the Master, which now seemed to be dissolving, melting. Buffy looked around to see that Dawn had cut Xander free. Good.

"Okay. New plan," Buffy said to Xander. "We can't beat him. Take Dawn and go. I'll hold him off as long as I can. Then you take her to Willow."

Anya protested, "But Buffy, Willow nearly destroyed the-"

"Exactly," Buffy finished. "And that's the kind of power you'll need. And maybe it's like with Glory. Maybe if I hold him off long enough, he'll miss his time and-"

"No.Let me hold him off," argued Spike, through intense pain. "I can't ever put things right with you, Buffy. At least let me do this."

"Hold him off? You won't last five more seconds." The truth hurts.

The Master interrupted with laughter.

"So touching, all this self-sacrifice. But as much fun as your deaths would be, they would only delay the inevitable. And I really want ALL of you to witness the Great Transfiguration. That's why you were invited. It's truly an experience not to be missed. So we'll continue this at another time. I want to do it up right. But don't worry, I'll be around. In fact, you never know when I might be standing right next to you."

The last words he said like a storyteller trying to convince them to sit around the campfire and listen to his fun scary story.

Xander was now using the axe to cut free the rest of the Scoobies, starting with Giles.

The Master started to change again. He morphed quickly into Xander, then Dawn, then Giles, then Anya his body spinning in circles like a tornado, so fast he was mostly a blur, only holding each form for half a second or so.

Now he began to grow taller and wider, changing shape and color. The ground started to crack in the mansion and more of the acidic liquid poured off him, burning sizzling holes into the floor. The Scoobies, now free, started backing up. Buffy pulled the injured Spike away. Drusilla slunk back, unsure of her place here.

Everyone in the room stared in amazement at what they were witnessing. Their enemy had become some kind of hybrid of animals. It had a catlike body, with spots like a leopard. The feet were those of a bear. The head also took shape, resembling that of a lion, and it roared wrathfully. A column of ten horns began on top of the head and flowed down the creature's back.

Quickly, the features dissolved into the mass, then began to reform again. It became a dragon, or at least something resembling one. The eyes glowed red, the body now scarlet and reptilian. Seven dragon heads sprouted from the body. It was a sight of graceful deformity. Buffy was the closest, and she had to dodge back to avoid its swishing tail, which slammed into the walls, peeling plaster. It threatened to grow too large for the mansion.

Seven mouths opened and closed, maws of dripping death. Buffy stood firm. "Here's the part I don't get. Why the children? What did that have to do with your ritual?"

Mabus' mouths spoke with wet, raspy, inhuman voices. The different mouths alternated speaking the creature's words, one at a time, each word emanating from a different part of the room.

"Nothing, really. The death of a child just brings so much.anguish. Anguish, fear, dread...increase my power. I can feel yours now."

One of the long necks craned, stretching a menacing head toward Alex, who shrank back, his face contorting in fear. "And especially yours," it added.

Alex's anger at the creature's gloating suddenly overrode his terror. "You killed my brother, you son of a bitch! And I'm gonna kill you!" he vowed.

Dawn gave him a 'you gotta be kidding' look.

"Admire the large testicles, kid," Xander conceded, "but escaping this place with your life would be impressive enough."

"And how did you know to use Spike to...?" Buffy's found her own answer before finishing. "Alex was right, you were reading our minds, using our fears against us."

"What the hell are you...Mabus?" Giles demanded.

The monstrosity was amused. "Mabus? Are they still calling me by that name the crazy Frenchman gave me?" the seven heads asked alternately, writhing. "Want to know what I am? Over the years, I have assumed the role of Satan and other characters of man's mythology. But who and what am I really?"

It morphed again, the heads withdrawing, changing, becoming one. ADAM. No, not really Adam. Rather, what a part of Adam must have looked like when he was a man. Buffy had the unsettling feeling she'd seen this "human" Adam somewhere, but she couldn't recall where.

"Not a man among you remembers," the Adam-head spoke, a line Buffy was sure she'd heard him say before, although that would have been impossible.

Its dialogue finished, it continued to morph, the body as malleable as putty, until it was an unidentifiable mass. Then it faded, becoming intangible, just a giant void. A black hole in the room. It was a shadow in the shape of the dragon/lion/leopard/bear that had come before it. Then it dissipated, and was gone. Everyone stood motionless, stunned.

"Oh, God," said Xander.

"Unless we get lucky," Anya reminded.

Buffy suddenly remembered Spike. There were so many things she needed to ask him, to say to him.

"Spike, when did you--?"

But she looked around the room to find that he was gone. So was Drusilla.

"Was that the Devil?" an awed Alex asked.

Giles responded quietly, "Yes. I believe it was."

Blackout.