"Elysium" By Dana Woods © 2003

Disclaimer: The characters/concepts of BtVS belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and everyone else who makes money from the show. The rest is mine. Ooh, I bet Joss is jealous.

***

Part 7

Spike's jaw dropped open when he saw Dawn on the other side of the door. Her eyes widened and she tossed the door open wide, causing it to slam against the wall and everyone who was in the living room turned their way.

"What are you doing here?" Spike demanded at the same time that an excited squeal of "Spike!" flew from her lips.

She noticed Tara then, and her face fell, becoming young and jaded in a way he hadn't seen since she'd been living with her father. Bloody hell. When he found out who'd told her it would be okay to visit, they were going to get an earful.

"Nothing to worry about," he said quickly, smiling and stepping inside. Faith, Olson, Josh and Giles were all standing in the middle of the room, looking more than a little dumbfounded at his sudden appearance and Tara's condition. Books were scattered everywhere and the tension was just rolling off of everyone in waves.

Giles pulled his glasses from his face, hard eyes settling on Spike. "What happened to her?" he asked, his voice clipped.

Spike shrugged and heard the door close behind him. He shifted so that Dawn wasn't at his back, closed out of what was going on. "Got into a bit of trouble in Tuscany," Spike said offhandedly, then looked at Dawn. "Don't you have school?"

"Spring break," she reminded him, her voice catching somewhere in the middle. Her arms were wrapped around her waist and her lip was trembling. She moved closer and slowly reached out to touch Tara's hair. "Is...is she all right?"

"A little sore, but good," he replied lightly. "Damn knackered, though. Won't give herself a break."

"We were worried," Olson said. Spike raised a brow. "You haven't called since Tuscany and we didn't know what had happened."

Giles slid his glasses back on his face and took a deep breath. "That was incredibly inconsiderate, Spike."

Faith's jaw tightened and Josh glared openly at Giles. Olson clenched his hands into fists and sat stiffly at the kitchen table.

More office politics. It was going to be the death of him. "I'm going to bring her upstairs," he announced, pointing his chin at Tara. He turned to Dawn and grinned. "Come on. You can help me get her settled, if you want."

Dawn's face relaxed slightly and she nodded. Her hair slithered along as she did, and he realized she'd cut it since the last time he'd seen her. It fell to just below her shoulders and shined in the light. She was turning into a heart-breaker, he admitted as they started upstairs. The past months had graced her with yet another growth spurt, and with her long arms and legs, she was almost colt-like in her appearance and movements. All awkward stumbles that promised to coalesce into stunning grace. Her face had lengthened somewhat, as well, taking away some of the babyness of her features and making her saucer sized eyes seem even larger.

The jeans she had on were a hell of a lot lower than waist level, and even though her long sleeved shirt covered her modestly, the way the material clung to her was not modest in the least. He imagined Buffy would have had been having a fit at Dawn's style choices lately, even if it would have been more than a bit hypocritical.

Dawn went directly to his room and turned on the light before hurrying to the bed and turning the covers down. Spike frowned as he set Tara down and brought a sheet over her, taking the paper bag in hand as he did so. He never made his bed, and why wasn't he walking on his wardrobe? He looked around at the neatened room more than a little suspiciously, and Dawn shrugged uneasily.

"I've been spending a bunch of time up here, to get away from them, and I was bored, so..."

"It's fine, platelet," he assured her, glancing back at Tara. She seemed as peaceful as she could be, giving the circumstances. Before standing up, he smoothed her hair from her forehead.

"Have they been pains in the arse?" he asked Dawn bluntly. The eyebrow she raised in response told him everything he needed to know. "Bloody hell. What about you?" She frowned. "You think like Giles does?"

Dawn took a breath and then moved past him to sit on the bed next to Tara. "I thought I did," she said uncertainly. "But when I see her and the others? Without Giles? They're pretty smooth. They've got it together. I mean, don't get me wrong; I still hate the skanky ho," she added quickly and Spike laughed. He sat next to her and slung an arm across her shoulders. "And Olson reminds me a whole bunch of Wesley before he got all hardcore." She leaned against him and sighed. "It sucks--everything about it sucks--but they're doing it. That counts for something, doesn't it?" she asked hesitantly.

Spike realized then that Dawn had grown up a lot more than he'd thought. Maybe because he'd only been seeing her in normal settings of late, and hadn't been able to see her in the middle of what her life used to be like. "Counts for everything," he answered. "And it's all right to hate her." She giggled a little and he touched her shorn locks. "Like the 'do, Bit," he commented.

Dawn shook the shorter waves of hair and grinned impishly. "Now it bounces," she told him.

"That it does," he said, smiling. "You mind staying with Tara while I get interrogated?"

"Nope." She grimaced. "Organizing your sock drawer is on my agenda tonight. Nonstop arguing is annoying. Sure, it's interesting at first. Like a movie. But then you get yelled at for munching on popcorn and then it's no fun."

Spike shook his head, laughing. "Thanks for the warning. Wouldn't want to waste perfectly good popcorn." He got to his feet and went to the door. "You call if either of you need anything, all right?"

Dawn nodded, and he went downstairs to face the firing squad. Halfway down the steps he stopped and had to admit that Dawn was right; it *was* rather like watching a movie and he now had a sudden craving for popcorn.

Faith and Josh were on the sofa, both of them looking furiously at Giles, who was standing in front of Olson at the kitchen table, glaring at the other Watcher.

Spike continued down the steps and dropped the bag on the coffee table before collapsing onto the loveseat. If his intention had been to get Giles' wrath focused on him, then he'd succeeded.

"What the hell has been going on?" Giles bit out. "You broke contact with us and just disappeared, and somewhere along the way you managed to get Tara beaten."

"Sod off," Spike muttered. "The only reason I didn't call was that we were doing our best to keep going and get the hell back here. As for Tara, I didn't 'get her beaten' you bloody ponce."

"What happened to her?" Olson interjected.

"Florence vamps got a hold of her," Spike said negligently, propping his feet up on the coffee table. "Took care of them, but not before she got a little knocked around. Hospital said she'll be fine in a week or so, 'cept for the ribs."

Giles peered down at him. "You should have returned directly after that, but you didn't," he said suspiciously.

"We had to swing by Paris again," Spike explained.

"Paris?" Faith repeated, speaking for the first time since Spike had arrived. "Thought you took care of that before you found her?"

"Yeah, I did," Spike conceded. "But it turns out that the person who's going to do the ritual has to get everything for it. So we went back to Paris and Tara had to take a dip in Willow's blood, brains and skull for the Onyx Heart." There was utter silence from the peanut gallery and Spike stifled a satisfied smirk. Let them chew on that for a while. "Speaking of which, I'm starving."

They all looked a little green as Spike got to his feet and padded into the kitchen. Truth be told, he wasn't hungry. Hadn't been since Paris. But he needed to eat, so he kept his thoughts shut off as he warmed a packet of blood and drank it down.

"You know, I can't wait to meet Tara," Josh said suddenly into the quiet. Spike raised a brow and he shrugged. "Got to be a tough bitch."

Faith laughed then. "Not that you'd notice," she said dryly. "Looks all soft and sweet, like a shadow would scare her." She tilted her head to the side and caught Spike's eyes. He saw the considering look in them and turned away to put his mug in the sink. "But maybe she's got depth or some shit like that."

Giles frowned disapprovingly. "I'm sure it was unsettling for Tara to have to--"

"Actually," Spike interrupted, heading back to the loveseat. "She was fine with it. Was over in less than five minutes and she kept her chin up through it all." His lips twisted as he stared at the Watcher. "Josh is right; she's damned tough."

"Or still bonkers," Faith drawled.

Spike shrugged. "A little of both."

"Have a little respect," Giles hissed. "That girl has been through hell of late and there is far too much casual disregard from all of you."

He narrowed his eyes at Giles. "I was there for *every* bit of hell she went through," he ground out, "from the time Glory got to her until now." The Watcher flushed a little and looked away at the reminder of his alcohol vacation the previous summer. "So don't try to tell me what I think, or how I should speak. You don't have that right, not when it comes to Tara."

The sound of Dawn screaming put an end to the "conversation". Spike and Faith reached the steps at the same time, but Spike spun around at Josh's surprised, "Holy shit."

Tara was in a Passageway, and the last of her had just caught up to the first of her. She was face to face with Josh and her eyes went wide. Faith was on the second step and she gaped at Tara. Both Watchers just looked like Christmas had come early.

Dawn came pounding down the steps, frantic and worried. "Spike!" she shouted. "Something happened to--" She came a jerky stop on the fourth step, her eyes on the witch. "--Tara," she finished with confusion.

"Hell," Spike muttered. It was like an effin' farce.

"Oh," Tara exclaimed. She blinked and looked around the room, smiling a little when she saw Spike at the foot of the stairs. "I, uh, didn't know where I was. When I woke up. I got scared."

"You all right?" Spike asked, going to her side. She seemed to be shrinking in on herself under everyone's scrutiny.

"Um," she murmured. "Yeah. It works on people," she added incongruously, and Spike raised a brow. "I told it to bring me to you. And it did."

"Jolly wonderful," he drawled sarcastically. "Bit, why don't you come down here and say hello."

Dawn squeezed around Faith and bounded down the steps, her movement becoming hesitant as she got closer to Tara. "Tara?" she said hopefully, her eyes running over the witch.

Tara smiled at the teenager. "Hi, Dawnie. I'm sorry I scared you."

Dawn's face split into a wide grin and she threw herself at Tara, hugging the witch to her. "Careful of her ribs," Spike cautioned when Tara winced slightly. Dawn adjusted her grip and Tara slowly raised her good arm and wrapped it around Dawn's back. It didn't stay there very long, and Tara seemed to be trying to creep away from the teenager.

"God, I missed you," Dawn mumbled.

"Missed you too," Tara said thickly. She pushed back and smiled softly. "Oh, wow. Your hair looks lovely."

"Yours too!" Dawn chirped. "It's almost as long as mine was. We're swapping hair! And how did you just disappear like that?" she tacked on, her tone demanding.

Giles cleared his throat. "Er, Dawn, I think perhaps Tara should...have a seat."

"Oh! Yeah. Here, we can sit on the loveseat," she said, taking Tara's hand and dragging the witch along with her. Dawn fell onto the cushions, curling her legs under her and sitting so that her back was braced on the arm. Tara sat more slowly, trying not to make her ribs flare up. "So can I keep the mark you gave me?" Dawn asked. "'Cause it's really cool, and my dad won't let me get a tattoo, and Spike pretty much said he'd cut it off me if I got one anyway, and this is probably the closest I'll get."

Tara was officially overwhelmed. Spike saw it in the way her eyes went distant and her head ducked. "You can't keep it and your whining is getting old, Bit," Spike said irritably. "You'll be eighteen before you know it and then you can scar yourself however you want."

"Yeah, right," Dawn scoffed. "Like you'll stop being all over-protective just because I'm legal. Please." She glared at him. "I know you weren't just 'in the neighborhood' when I went out with Jimmy Henson, you jerk." She turned to Tara, long-suffering and pouting. "He jumped out of the bushes when Jimmy was going to kiss me goodnight, all snaggly toothed and yellow eyed."

"Hey!" Spike protested indignantly. "My teeth aren't snaggly. I'll have you know they're considered great chompers, all right?"

"Yes, as fascinating as all of this is," Giles snapped, "I believe now is not the time." His expressions softened as he looked at Tara. "It's good to see you again, Tara."

"Hi, Mr. Giles," she said shyly, not lifting her head.

Spike rolled his eyes. "Right, introductions. Think you already met Faith," he commented, pointing at the brunette.

"Yeah, hi," Faith said. She was still at the staircase, now sitting on one of the steps. "Sorry about when we first met. I was a little psycho for a while, but I guess you know how that goes."

"Faith," Giles hissed.

Tara waved and offered the Slayer a smile. "Um, not really. I was crazy, not psycho. Less violent," she clarified helpfully. Faith blinked, then shook her head, a surprised chuckle issuing forth. "It's, uh, nice to meet you, though. Spike says you're not annoying," she added sweetly.

Spike growled at her. "More of a brat than I thought," he snipped at her. "You also met Olson, over there. He's the one who pissed his pants on your first meeting. Never thanked you for that," he added, smirking when both of them blushed and glared at him. "The pretty young thing sprawled on the sofa is Josh. Don't tell him he's not as pretty as he thinks, because you'll be wasting your breath."

Josh winked at Tara. "So, what did Sexy Vamp say about me?" he asked insouciantly. "Did he comment on my stunning fashion sense? My daring lifestyle? Or did he simply go on and on about my tastefully muscled bod of hotness?"

Spike rolled his eyes and Dawn snickered quite loudly before making exaggerated gagging noises. "Sexy Vamp--um, Spike," Tara corrected when he glared at her, "said that you and Olson aren't entirely incompetent. That means he likes you."

"Yeah," Dawn chimed in. "It's code."

"So, what did I miss while I was, um, sleeping?" Tara asked uncomfortably.

"Arguments," Dawn answered immediately, apparently voting herself their spokesperson even though she'd been upstairs for most of the time. "That's all they've done since I've been here."

"I think that we missed more than you did," Olson said pointedly. Tara's head raised, her eyes seeking out Spike, and he shrugged.

"I'm going to do a last round of patrols," Faith announced, standing.

"Yeah, I think I'll head home," Josh said, glancing at Giles. "I'll leave the car for you, Eric," he told Olson. "Faith can walk me." Olson nodded his agreement and Josh met Faith by the door.

"Er, Dawn," Giles began. "Perhaps you should go with them. You *are* staying with Josh and Eric."

"But Tara just got back!" Dawn protested. "And Spike!"

"Dawnie," Tara said, "I'm not going to be much company. I'll probably be going back to sleep once we fill the Watchers in. We can, uh, hang out tomorrow okay? Catch up."

"Off with you, Bit," Spike said firmly. "Tara needs rest and you expend enough energy to vicariously drain the rest of us."

"Fine," she pouted. "But I'm coming over early tomorrow."

The three left and Giles sat next to Tara while Spike took up residence on the sofa Josh had vacated. "What did we just see, Tara?" he asked softly.

"Well," she began, tucking her hair behind her ears. "In Tuscany? The woman who looks out for the pomegranate, um, gave us some extra. To thank us for rescuing her."

Giles and Olson shared a confused look. "What does it have to do with what you did?" Olson asked for them both.

Tara looked like a deer caught in the headlights, so Spike gave them the details of what Marianna had told them, which both Watchers just found *intriguing* to say the least.

"And you say that it worked not just with locations?" Olson asked with interest. "You wanted to go to Spike and you were able to?"

Tara nodded.

"Extraordinary," Giles breathed. "Just extraordinary." But then the Watcher shook his head and shifted to better see Tara, and Spike knew what was coming. "Tara, this ritual is dangerous," he began. "Please reconsider. There are other options."

Tara looked at him for a moment, fighting back the exhaustion and pain. Spike let her at it. His words certainly weren't going to convince Giles of anything. "No, there aren't," Tara said eventually. "Um, maybe we can get rid of the Arcepts, but there will be others. W-w-w-illow had a lot of power," she admitted quietly. "More than she knew, I think. The transfer isn't a natural thing. If the magic was still in Willow, and she was alive, there would be less interest. But it's unstable now, vulnerable."

Giles sat back and studied her. "Tara, how do you know all of this? And how can you be sure the power has been transferred?"

"Willow told me about the transfer," Tara admitted. "I didn't know...I didn't know she was thinking about using it. She kind of, um, found it during a research session. She thought it was--interesting."

"During research, you say?" Giles pounced. "I went through every book I brought back to England with me, and then we searched through the texts that I left behind. There was nothing in any of them."

Tara shrugged. "Maybe she, um, took it?" she offered. "I only know that she told me about the transfer and the Cerno. After the Arcept guy came to the hospital, I went to this store. In L.A. They had a copy of 'Veneficus Ritus' or 'Ritus Veneficus' or...well, something like that. The Cerno is in between two pages, and you need a, um, specific revealing spell to see it."

"Let me guess," Giles said with a sigh. "Willow told you what it is." Tara nodded and he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I suppose it would be pointless to comment on Willow's...poor decisions. So instead I shall ask what makes you sure that she did indeed transfer it."

"I...I can feel it, still," she answered quietly. "I know her magic is still here."

"Feel it?" Olson echoed, looking to Giles for an explanation.

"Willow and Tara performed many, er, spells together," Giles said haltingly, and Spike snickered. "Would you be able to...to track it? Back to the source?" he asked Tara.

Tara looked at him, steadily and directly. "What would that accomplish?"

"Yeah, what *would* that accomplish?" Spike repeated. "Because you have yet to tell us. Come on, and make it good."

"Do shut up," Giles snapped at him. "You've been no help whatsoever, other than in getting Tara injured."

"You're wrong," Tara countered, sitting up straight and lifting her head. "He's done nothing but help me since that...since that night." She took a deep breath. "What have you done?"

Giles was shocked. Spike shared a small grin with Olson. "Well, I've been looking into other alternatives," he stammered self-consciously.

"But Spike told you this is what I was going to do," Tara reminded him. "Did you look into the ritual at all?"

"Well, no--"

"We have," Olson interrupted. They all turned to him. "Our research indicates that only someone of white magic stands a chance of success with the Cerno. We've been pouring through every recorded instance of the ritual being attempted in an effort to find...commonalities for failure. So far that's what we've come up with." He tilted his head to the side. "It's quite like a logic game from one of those puzzle books."

"Wow," Tara whispered. "Thank you. The, um, Guntry said the Onyx Heart was key, as well, even though it's not used."

Olson nodded thoughtfully. "So it's *not* superfluous. We'd wondered about that."

"Which means we need to know all there is to know about it," Spike pointed out. "Guntry said something about it offering the right state of mind."

Giles was quiet, almost like he was feeling superfluous himself. Good. Might teach him that they were more capable than he thought they were.

"I'm kind of tired," Tara said then, yawning delicately behind her hand.

Olson got to his feet and smiled down at her. "We'll start looking into it first thing in the morning," he informed her. She glanced at her watch and he shrugged good-naturedly. "Later in the morning. If you feel up to joining us, I can pick you up when I get Faith," he offered. "Around ten or so?"

"I'd like that," Tara agreed. She shifted forward on the cushion, in preparation of standing, and Spike got up to take her good hand and help her stand. "I think I'd also like one of those pills," she muttered to Spike.

"Right, I'll get the luggage. Rupes, you can haul your arse back to wherever you're staying," he commented, motioning at the Watcher.

"I was hoping to--," he started to say, but Spike spun around and pointed a finger at him.

"It can wait," Spike said clearly.

Giles' eyes flickered from Tara, who was swaying lightly on her feet, to Spike. "Yes, of course," he said slowly. "We can talk later."

Or not at all, Spike finished silently. "Let's go, then. Try to stay on your feet for another couple of minutes, luv," he told Tara. "I'll be back before you know it."

She nodded absently and waved weakly at the Watchers.

They walked through the courtyard to the street and Olson went right for his SUV without a word to either of them. Spike didn't really blame him. Giles hesitated while Spike popped the trunk and pulled out his and Tara's bags.

"What are you still here for, Giles?" Spike asked negligently, slamming the trunk closed. "If you need a ride, you're shit out of luck."

Giles shook himself. "No, no, I don't need a ride," he said quietly. "I know we have our differences, Spike, but Tara seems to listen to you. No one has been able perform this ritual without dying."

"Listen up, because I'm only going to say this once," Spike said, looking towards the flat. "She's doing it, no matter what you, me, or anyone says. Getting on her case? Trying to bully her around?" He shook his head. "It's not going to do anything but upset and confuse her, and I'm guessing she needs to be calm and centered for the ritual." He shrugged and shifted the bags. "From what we've learned, she's got a chance. A good chance. You want to help make it a better chance, then come by the shop tomorrow and help us. If not, go back home."

He left the man on the sidewalk and dumped the bags by the door in the living room. Tara was having trouble keeping her eyes open, so he dug out the bottle of pills and grabbed the paper bag, then took her arm and lead her up the stairs.

"Your room is really...neat," she commented with surprise.

Spike snorted. "Niblet went to town." He smirked suggestively. "Luckily, we keep all the kinky stuff in the Slayer's room."

Tara smiled and lay down, kicking her sandals off and pushing them from the bed with one foot. She sighed as her head hit the pillow. Spike brought her some water and she missed the glass when she tried to take it from him.

"Open up," he said gruffly, and set a pill on her tongue when she complied. She lifted her head to take a sip of the water he held for her, and swallowed the pill. Spike turned off the overhead light and stripped to the waist, then climbed over her, taking the dreaded spot next to the wall.

"There's so much anger," she said a short while later. She was draped across his chest, the position awkward and probably uncomfortable for her ribs.

"Yeah, there is," he acknowledged, thinking about the group that had been gathered in the living room.

"It's so exhausting. Anger, I mean." She yawned. "How do they do it?"

"It's not like that at first," he answered. "In the beginning, it's like an adrenaline rush. Before you know it, you're drained. Humans anyway," he clarified. "Vamps get off on it." He paused. "How is it for you?"

She stiffened. "Oh. Well. Kind of...somewhere in between, I guess." She sighed. "I just want this to end."

He pressed a kiss on her hair and listened to her breathing even out when she fell asleep two minutes later. It wasn't going to be as easy as Tara thought, really. The Cerno wasn't the answer to anything except the Arcepts.

***

When Faith pounded on his bedroom door, it felt like only a few minutes had passed since he'd fallen asleep. When he squinted at the clock, it showed that several hours had passed and it was now nine in the morning. Tara groaned and brought a hand to her head.

"What?" he snarled at Faith.

She threw the door open and her eyes widened in surprise when she saw Tara untangling herself from Spike's arms. She stayed at the doorway, hair tussled and an army green tank top bunched at her waist above a pair of boxers.

"Wakey wakey," she said in a gravelly voice. "Olson's due in an hour."

Tara sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. "My tongue is furry," she mumbled with a moue of distaste. "And my head kind of hurts."

"It's the pills," Spike grunted. "Must have given you a bit of a hangover. Shower will fix you up."

"It's not really a shower when I can't wash my hair, or get wet above my neck," she complained. "More like a bath."

Spike sat up and carefully parted some of her hair, examining the stitches on her scalp before checking the other two wounds. "No sign of infection," he said with satisfaction. "Those antibiotics are working. You still in pain?"

She nodded. "Yeah, but it's not as bad."

"You can have the bathroom first," Faith commented, her eyes bleary. "I'm still trying to wake up."

"Didn't hear you come in," Spike commented. "Must've been late."

"Three hours ago," she admitted, rubbing her eyes.

Spike raised a brow. "Yeah? Must've been a hell of a last patrol, then, to keep you out until that time."

She gave him the finger and gestured behind her. "Brought your bags up. They're right out here."

"Thanks," Tara said, standing up and taking a breath. "I'll be quick as I can."

"Give a holler if you need a hand," Spike instructed her, and she slipped past Faith with a nod.

When the bathroom door closed, Faith dragged herself into the room and flopped down on his bed in the spot Tara had abandoned. "Fuck, I'm tired."

"No one to blame but yourself," he reminded her. "Grab my fags, would you?"

She dropped a hand over the side of the bed and he heard the sounds of leather on leather as she blindly rummaged through his duster and tossed the pack and lighter at him. While he lit one, and took an ashtray from the windowsill next to the bed, she tilted her head and looked at him through a tumble of sable hair.

"You two looked cozy there," she said, eyebrows raised. "Something going on?"

"Fuck off," he sighed, exhaling a cloud of smoke. Faith held out her hand and he passed her the cigarette. "She's firmly on your side of the fence, ducks, and even if she wasn't, it's not like that."

Faith inhaled and passed the cigarette back. "How'd it go after I left?"

"Oh, it was a blast," he snorted, handing her the cigarette again. "Giles tried to talk her out of it, but she put him in his place." He grimaced. "I'm sure he's rallied himself by now, though. Come up with new and improved arguments, a better line of reasoning."

"He hasn't found shit," Faith told him. Spike took the cigarette back and got a final hit off of it before putting it out. "Everyone he talks to tells him the same thing: the Cerno. But he won't accept it."

Spike narrowed his eyes on her. She wasn't an idiot. She had to know...but maybe she was too caught up in the arguments to think it through. "He doesn't want to bury another one," he told her quietly, and she flinched.

"Yeah, okay, I get that," she said, blowing out a frustrated breath.

"Tell me something, Slayer," he said casually. "Who told the Niblet she could come here?"

Faith held her hands up and shook her head. "No one told her anything, man. She just showed up. Walked into the Magic Box two days ago and said her father dropped her off for Spring Break."

"Bloody hell," he muttered, rubbing his face. "Refused to leave, didn't she?"

"Loudly," Faith said, grinning. "Pitched one hell of a fit when Giles ordered her to." Spike snorted. That must have been a sight, and he was sorry he'd missed it.

The bathroom door opened and closed, and then he heard Tara's footsteps as she came down the hall. A moment later, she was walking into the room, looking only slightly more presentable than before, and holding all the necessities for her ribs.

"Um, I think my ribs should be wrapped again," she said hesitantly, head ducked and her eyes skittering to Faith. She'd taken off the wrapping the hospital had sent her off with in Paris, just before going to get the Onyx.

"I can do that for you," Faith offered. "I've had to patch Olson up a few times."

"No," Tara said abruptly, taking a step back. "No. I'd...Spike? Can you...?"

"Sure thing, pet," he said quietly, and she visibly relaxed. He remembered when she'd shown him all those things at Willow's grave. The pain on her skin, inside and out. The fire that hurt and burned her. The way she'd shied away from touching everyone but him. He wondered if maybe it hadn't been just because she was coo-coo at the time. Because that night at the grave, the thought of something cool soothing the burn had gone through her head.

"Why don't you hit the shower, Slayer?" Spike said idly. "You're ripe with some poor slop's stench. Hope you went easy on him."

"Fuck off," Faith snapped, getting to her feet.

***

Giles, Dawn and Josh were already at the Magic Box when they arrived. Josh seemed sullen and pouty. So did Dawn. Spike had the feeling it was going to be a long morning of research.

"We brought breakfast," Dawn informed them limply. Tara went directly to the plate of bagels and snatched one, not bothering to cut it and eating it dry. She spotted several containers of orange juice, took one for herself, then swallowed and mumbled a sheepish hello to the room at large.

"It was supposed to be catch up time, not research time," Dawn said to Tara, eyes hurt and angry. Tara flinched and took a step back.

"That's enough of that," Spike told Dawn, his voice cool. "Not any more fun for her--or any of us--than it is for you."

"I'm sorry," Dawn sighed. "I just...I forgot how it's an all the time thing that doesn't hold off because you have better things to do. I forgot how much it sucks."

Spike didn't know if there was anything left in him at this point, and he stared at Dawn for a long while, the rest of the room astoundingly quiet, until Tara's soft words sounded. "One time? I forgot to put pants on before leaving the house," she told Dawn.

It was such an absurd statement, so incongruous, that Dawn laughed. "Okay, so you win that," she chirped. "I didn't mean to be a brat."

"You never *mean* to," Spike snarked with a smirk, and Dawn stuck her tongue out at him.

"So...where should we start?" Tara asked, looking around at everyone.

"I thought," Olson said slowly, "it would be best to give an overview of all that we've learned, since you and Spike have been well out of the loop."

"Sounds like a plan," Spike agreed, going to the counter and hopping on top of it. Tara and Dawn sat at the table, and Giles pulled a stool from behind the counter. Faith stayed near the food, leaning against the other table and spreading cream cheese onto a bagel. Olson nodded at Josh. The boy went into the back room and wheeled out a dry erase board whose surface had been divided into three sections by frighteningly straight marker lines.

"This is basically what we've learned about the Cerno's history, purpose and how it works; the snags are on the other side," Josh informed them all.

Spike glanced through the neatly written lists below each header and bit back a curse when Giles decided more than enough time had passed since he'd put in his two cents.

"How can you be sure that the ritual is firmly rooted in white magic?" he asked Olson.

Josh, however, was the one who retrieved a small stack of index cards from a shelf below the board. In a monotone, he recited several texts that backed up the very first fact written on the board. When he began to read off page and paragraph numbers, Olson stopped him.

"That can wait until after we've gone over the basics," he interrupted, clearing his throat. He moved in front of the board and motioned to a small notation. "As it states, the Cerno was created almost a thousand years ago by numerous sorcerers who saw a need to reverse the transfer ritual, which was a good deal older. I believe we're all aware, now at any rate," he expounded, "that the transfer is an erratic measure. The results are unpredictable and the magic never fully meshes with the recipient. Various side-effects include the inability to control the power, being consumed by the power--and I mean that literally; spontaneous combustion is not a joke-- and the most troublesome: an intrinsic mismatch between the individual and powers that makes the recipient vulnerable to more than a few lethal ways of being stripped of the power.

"In theory, the ritual is simple," he continued. "It starts with a standard ointment which opens the individual to magicks more fully. The ingredients are mixed in the Anointing Bowl, which amplifies the ointment's effects and increases the user's talent."

Josh took a step forward. "Next is the Immortal Essence," he explained, his tone serious. "This stuff is amazing. It can be used with certain spells or rituals to grant someone partial immortality. But in the Cerno, what it does it make the user impervious to Khentimentiu's knife. Historically, the knife is described as a talisman that summons Khentimentiu, but in reality what it does is kill you no matter what type of wound you receive. So, you get to meet the great Khentimentiu, but not in the way you thought."

"That is seriously fucked up," Faith interjected and Josh nodded in agreement.

"But with the Immortal Essence," Olson picked up, "one is able to withstand the cut of the blade and can call him as one means to. It's ingenious, really."

"After that, you've gotta eat the seeds," Faith told them all. "They let you interact with the dead the way you need to. The details are kinda sketchy, but the gist of it is that you have to ask the giver to take the power back with them to the land of the dead. And you have to be specific," she warned. "Just asking them to take it back could send it into the..." Her eyes flickered to Tara and she frowned.

"Back into the originator's remains," Olson finished gently, clearing his throat at the end. "Where it can still be accessed if the originator is powerful."

The unspoken, "Like Willow" hung in the air and Tara ducked her head again.

"The neatest thing about all of this," Josh exclaimed, changing topics and smiling widely, "is that everything is designed to retreat after the ritual is performed. The objects return to where they came from, and anything that's ingested is cancelled out of you. But that brings us to the tricky part: completing the ritual."

He spun the board, revealing the complications. Spike had to hand it to him; he was more than prepared and certainly knowledgeable.

"No one's been ever been able to finish it," Josh lectured them. "Originally, we only had a vague footnote about that, but we found a shitload of details later on." He pointed to the board. "We've grouped the failures into categories: Lack of Components, which is self-explanatory; User Error, again, self-explanatory; and Unknown, which is the largest. Eric told me about what Tara and Spike found out during the scavenger hunt, and it's already on here.

"I then broke down the unknowns a bit further. If we were able to hypothesize a reason for failure, we did so. If not, I delineated at what point in the ritual things go to Hell. There is a significant pattern of failure after the start but before Khentimentiu makes an appearance."

"Tara found out some other things, too," Spike announced.

Tara tore her eyes away from the whiteboard and blinked. "What? Oh. Yes. Um, the book where I found the Cerno said that there's more to it than performing it, and said that 'gathering the components is the first of many steps'. It didn't...say what the other steps were, but.... Now that I've gone out and gotten everything," she said slowly, thoughtfully, "I feel like there's some kind of, uh, weeding out process woven throughout everything. From gathering the components to performing the ritual." She frowned and shook her head. "At least, that's I think."

"Very possible," Josh said, nodding quickly. "The guys that put this together were uber-good guys. Totally particular and judgmental. And it would explain most of the unknowns. Still leaves us with the problem of not knowing what their standards were."

"But there *are* things we know for sure," Olson told the group. "Only someone of white magic stands a chance of success, all the ingredients must be present, and one will not survive if they stop the ritual once it's begun."

"Wait," Spike interrupted. "What was that last one?"

"It's all or nothing," Faith explained. "Falls into User Error. We found three instances of gruesome deaths for those who wussed out after they started."

"Really gruesome," Josh stressed seriously. "No matter why they stopped. Apparently, it's a big commitment."

"You neglected to mention the Onyx Heart," Giles said coolly, "which is a requirement for the Cerno that is not actually used. That was supposed to have been our focus today."

"And it will be," Josh snapped. "One of them, at least. With this many people there's no harm in dividing brainpower. Half of us continue looking into the Cerno, the other half look into the onyx." He curled his lip and raised a brow. "Does that meet with His Highness' approval?"

"Josh!" Olson ground out, garnering the boy's attention. "Why don't you separate our texts to accommodate the division of efforts?"

Josh opened his mouth, but thought better of it. "Yeah, why don't I," he muttered, going to the table.

Dawn raised a brow at Tara, as if to say, "See, I told you." Spike shook his head. Things were damn close to coming to a head on more than one front.

***

Many, many hours later Faith threw a book across the room. "I hate this shit," she said loudly.

She way lying on top of the counter by the register, her most recent settling place. Spike dodged the book on his way out of the back room, closing the door on Tara and Dawn, who had retreated there an hour earlier. Tara's head had begun hurting her with all of the reading, and she was still knackered. Olson had sent them out of the room, instructing Tara to make herself comfortable on the sofa in there while Dawn "researched" in a text that Spike was pretty sure was unimportant to their quest.

Giles, Olson and Josh all lifted their heads from various books at the table and blinked widely at Faith.

"None of it makes sense, damn it," she continued in frustration, sitting up and swinging her legs to the side so that they dangled above the floor. "And half of what I'm reading is telling me to look in other freaking books. It's like Hell or something."

She'd actually lasted a lot longer than Spike had expected. As a rule, Faith tended to become impatient with research, not because she didn't see the point, but because it worked in a way that was contrary to her. She was direct, linear. Research was...not. It was hard for her to wrap her head around it, but she'd been going for six hours strong and it was impressive.

"Stick a fork in me, because I am done," she informed them, rubbing her forehead and tousling her hand in her hair when she lowered it. "I'm gonna do something nice and simple, like patrol. Call when something happens."

Giles removed his glasses and stared at her. "Faith, I really don't believe that's what you should be doing at this moment," he noted. "With Tara...incapacitated, and Dawn distracted, we need your eyes. Get to work on the Gorjian Journals," he ordered her, resetting his glasses on his face and looking back down at his own book.

Faith stiffened and straightened up. "Excuse me?" she asked quietly.

"You heard me," Giles said without looking up. "You no longer have the luxury of opting out of the parts you don't like."

Spike stepped further into the room, then moved to the right to lean against a display case. One thing was about to get worked through.

"Opting out?" Faith repeated dangerously low.

"Faith, go on patrol," Olson said firmly, leaning back in his seat, jaw tight.

Giles' head snapped up again. "Eric, she should--"

"What you think she should or should not be doing is unimportant," Olson said calmly. "I am her Watcher, and I think that we could do without her for two hours while she performs another of her duties."

"Well, of course you do," Giles exclaimed, getting to his feet. He tossed his hands in the air and shrugged. "Because it's what Faith wants, isn't it? And heaven forbid Faith not be indulged in all ways."

The door to the backroom opened, and Tara hesitantly stepped out. Spike raised a brow, and she shook her head and mouthed "bathroom". He nodded and turned back to the floor show.

"That accusation is completely unfounded," Olson hissed, also standing. "Faith's performance has been exemplary in all ways."

"The hell it has," Giles almost shouted. "She runs wild and you have been remiss in every one of your responsibilities by letting her."

Spike traded a look with Josh, who seemed quite smug. You could give Faith all the crap you wanted about her, and you could criticize Olson to his face without a problem. But saying something to one about the other didn't go over well. And Giles was about to learn just how protective they were of each other.

"Wow, judgments and criticism," Faith drawled in a hard voice and slid off the counter. "How unusual." Giles glared at her and she smiled, but it was sharp around the edges. "Why the hell are you here, Giles?" "I'm here to help," he bit out. "Well when is that going to start?" she asked smartly. "Because so far you haven't done a damn thing we couldn't have done on our own." Giles leveled a disgusted look at Olson. "Perhaps if you spent less time mooning over the boy you've dragged into something he should have never been involved in, your Slayer would have her priorities straight." Olson straightened to his full height, a solid three inches more than Giles. "There is nothing wrong with Faith's priorities." Giles snorted. "No, of course not. She's just living with a vampire and doing whatever the Hell she wants. I have half a mind to relieve you of--" And Faith was in his face, her eyes shuttered. Spike rubbed his forehead and watched her force Giles back a few steps. "Oh, and you were never guilty of dragging young kids into this drama, were you, Giles?" she asked silkily. "Naw, not you. And *your* Slayer never fraternized with the vamps. Nope." "That was different," he protested. "Different," Faith repeated slowly, "Yeah, you weren't fucking any of the kids, and they were a hell of a lot younger than Josh is. Oh, and Angel had a soul...but I heard it was kinda slippery there for a while. And you *never* trusted Spike." Giles went still and leveled a scathing look at the Slayer. "If you think that trusting Spike shows your good sense, then you are mistaken. He--" "Has no soul and is only being kept in check by the soddin' chip," Faith finished for him in a sing-song voice. "Captain Obvious is in the house." "Trusting him will cause you nothing but trouble." "You trusted him," Faith reminded Giles bluntly, her eyes narrowed. "Trusted him in your house. Trusted him to protect the Hellmouth. Trusted him with Dawn and Tara."

The color faded from Giles' face. "Look," Faith said quietly. "I'm sorry that it kills you inside that I'm still alive, and B's not." She paused and shook her head. "But I don't deserve the way you look at me--not anymore.

"As for Olson," she said, shaking her head again in disbelief, "Damn, I remember when Wesley came to town. I remember how he criticized *every* choice you'd ever made, and had a better idea of how to do everything. Never thought that you'd do the same thing, since you know what it's like to be on the receiving end of it."

Giles' jaw clenched, but Faith kept going. "I trust Spike as far as I can thrown him, and that's pretty fucking far. But it's not total trust, because I'm not a fucking idiot. Whether you like it or not, Giles, you don't have the right to come riding in here on your high horse and making us feel like we're incompetent. We're not. I know where it's coming from, and I sympathize, but you either have to deal or find someone else willing to come check up on us."

Utter silence fell upon the room and Spike frowned. As good as all of this was, something was bothering him. Something was...wrong. Very, very wrong. He just couldn't put his finger on it.

"Be that as it may--" Giles began, but the door to the back room opened again, and Spike realized what was wrong. There was a heartbeat missing.

"Where's Tara?" Dawn asked, closing the door behind her.

"Shit, shit, shit," Spike muttered, pushing away from the display case and bolting past Dawn to the bathroom. It was empty, and the back door leading out to the alley was blocked by two large boxes of inventory that had been delivered earlier in the day.

"Did something take her?" Faith asked as soon as he appeared in the shop area again. Josh and Olson were behind the counter, passing her various weapons which she was stashing all over her person. Giles was rubbing the back of his neck and looking in dire need of a drink. Dawn's eyes were filled with tears.

"No, nothing took her," Spike ground out, running a hand through his hair. "She bloody left. Through the soddin' passageways, if my guess is right. Hell."

"But...why?" Dawn sniffled, coming to his side.

And that was the question. Why had she snuck off and then slipped into a passageway? Why had she run away from them? He closed his eyes and dropped his head to his chest, an awful thought occurring to him.

"Bring me that book you were looking in, Niblet," he said carefully, head still lowered.

"There shouldn't have been anything in there," Olson said quickly when Dawn was out of earshot.

Maybe not, but Spike had the feeling something damn well was in there, and that it had sent Tara off on her own, just like the visit from the Arcept had. Dawn came hurrying back, holding out the book. "We were talking," she explained as he took it from her and set it on the table. "Just about...things, and she was flipping through it. Not really paying attention. Then she said--she said she had to pee and that she'd be right back."

Spike ground his teeth together and forced himself to take a breath. "Show me where she was flipping, " he asked.

The others came to stand around him as Dawn shuffled through the pages, a picture getting her attention. She passed through two more pages and then stopped. "Here."

He bent over the book, scanning through the Latin without much problem. With a growl of frustration at not finding anything, he started to look away.

That's when he noticed it. A small notation at the bottom of the page, whose size detracted not at all from its import.

He slammed his hands on the table and turned to the others. "She's gone to do the Cerno," he informed them grimly.

"Bloody Hell," Giles exclaimed.

"What have we found out about the Onyx Heart?" Spike demanded of Olson.

"Not much," the Watcher admitted, rifling his hands through his hair. "There are no mystical abilities associated with it. It's just an...onyx."

Spike ground his teeth together. "Just an onyx," he repeated. "What do we know about onyx in general then?"

Josh reached for a pad and flipped through it. "It grounds negativity," he read, "and aids in letting go of stress. It is soothing and helps to focus, to banish grief and old habits, protecting the bearer and encouraging happiness and good fortune."

That made Spike blink as he thought about what he'd just read, and what the Guntry had told them about the "right state of mind". Oh, hell, it made all kinds of sense, but there was still too much that wasn't known. They needed more time before Tara attempted the Cerno and she'd just stopped the clock and gone ahead.

"Spike, what is in that book that caused Tara to run off?" Giles asked dangerously.

Going still, Spike met the Watcher's hard eyes and, without looking away, he tore the offending page from the book and shoved it into his duster. "Let's go get her," he suggested icily.

***

Dawn had insisted on coming, not backing down even when Spike had slipped into gameface in anger at her stubbornness. She'd said she would just follow them, and he knew she would. So she'd ridden in Giles' rental car with Spike while Olson had driven Josh and Faith.

For his part, Spike had absolutely refused to tell any of them what he'd found in the book.

At the cemetery, they poured out of the cars and then Spike was tearing through the graveyard so quickly that only Faith was able to keep up with him. They burst through the clearing near Willow's grave and Spike noticed the small piles of sand that scattered the area. Tara had obviously interrupted some Arcepts trying to get at the grave when she'd arrived.

"Goddamn it, Tara," he shouted at her.

She jerked around to face him, eyes empty and visage blank. "Go away, Spike," she said flatly. "And take them with you," she added when the others joined him and Faith.

"Like hell I will," he snarled, and rushed towards her, only to bounce off of a barrier. Tara looked away, and bent down to pick up the paper bag of components.

"She's started the preparations," Josh said, gasping as he caught his breath. "She cast the circle."

Spike slammed his palms against the barrier and growled at her. "Let. Me. Through," he bit out. "If you don't, I will toss myself against this thing until it tears me apart."

She looked up, her eyes pleading. "Spike..."

"Don't Spike me," he snapped. "Let me through this soddin' thing. Now!"

He didn't look away and eventually she winced and waved her hand, and he burst through the barrier without problem and ran to her, grabbing her wrist and dragging her away from the bag. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he asked her, tightening his grip and shaking her. "What is going on in that bloody messed up head of yours?"

Tara remained stubbornly silent, her eyes sliding away from his. He reached into his pocket with his free hand and brought out the crumpled page from the book, waving it under her nose. "Is it about this?" he demanded.

Her head snapped up. "Did you--"

"No, I didn't tell anyone," he answered furiously. "But that's not the bleedin' point, you idiot. Do you really think doing this now is a smart idea?" He let go of her wrist and she stumbled back. "Do you have a death wish?" he asked with frustration. "Because if you do, then slitting your wrists is a hell of a lot easier."

She stiffened and glared at him. "We're running out of time," she insisted, ignoring what he'd said. "The sigils can't hold up much longer."

Spike arched a brow. "Won't hold up for twenty-four more hours? Just another day?"

Looking away, she shrugged. "I'm doing it now."

"Damn it," he growled, hands running through his hair. "You're in no shape to do this. You're too tense, and too upset."

"I know, but I don't have a choice," she whispered. Her arm stretched out, her hand turned palm up and shaking. Spike briefly closed his eyes, then took her hand and yanked her to his chest.

"One more day," he said lowly. "Just hold off one more day."

"I can't," she mumbled. "I can't hold on another day. It's too much."

"Then you need to center yourself or something, because you're all over the place right now," he instructed her. "Take a couple of minutes to meditate or whatever."

She was quiet for a moment, then she whispered, "All right."

Pushing away from him, she sat in front of Willow's headstone, cross-legged and wretched looking. She took a deep breath, then closed her eyes. Spike rubbed his forehead and stepped back to give her some room. At the barrier, Giles was glaring at him.

"Don't let her do this, Spike," the Watcher hissed.

"What the hell do you expect me to do?" Spike asked, resigned. "I've seen her like this, and she's not changing her mind."

"Take the components," Giles whispered. "Take them and she won't be able to do it."

"And what if the passageways work for objects, too?" Spike bit out. "Even if they don't, after what she went through to get this shit to begin with, hiding it isn't going to deter her."

"Spike, we don't know enough," Olson said, worried.

He nodded. "I know. She doesn't want to hear it."

"But, she'll pull it off, right?" Dawn pleaded tremulously. "She'll do it."

Spike caught a movement out of the corner of his eyes, and turned his head to see Tara getting to her feet. Dawn wanted him to lie, but staring at the pale witch just a few feet away, the woman riddled with grief and guilt and pain, he didn't think he could do it.

"Let's hope so, Bit," he murmured, walking back to Tara.

***

Tara watched him approach as she set about mixing the ointment. She must have used the passageways to go somewhere to get the herbs she needed. Probably to the house on Revello, since that's where he'd stored all of her and Willow's stuff.

"About the onyx," Spike ventured. Tara raised her brows and waited for him to continue. "Couldn't find anything special about it at all. Just a really big onyx. Josh said that onyx is used to--"

"I know what it's used for," she said shortly, still mixing the ingredients for the ointment. Once it was done, Tara dipped her fingers into it, bringing her hand to her face and pausing for a long moment while she stared at Spike.

"Good luck," he simply said.

She nodded, then spread the stuff across her forehead and lips. She pulled her shirt aside and touched it to her heart before rubbing the remainder along her hands and arms.

There was suddenly a charge in the air, like electricity. Spike remembered something similar when Marianna had entered the room with the pomegranate. Tara's eyes seemed to glow then, growing brighter and brighter until they were shining in the dark.

"With magic mine and not mine," Tara said loudly, "I enter into the Cerno of my own volition. Let my actions be noted, my words heeded and my will sanctioned by those I call upon."

Her eyes flared brightly again before returning to normal, and she shook her head as if dazed, then reached onto the headstone to pick up the Essence of Immortality.

"Give me not endurance of death," Tara said as she opened the vial, "but proof against a single wound that would be my death. Strengthen my transience, fortify my mortality."

She drank the contents of the vial and was reaching for Khentimentiu's knife when there was a soft exhalation of the wind. Spike's eyes widened at the same time that Tara's did.

Willow had appeared in front of Tara, vaporous and wraithlike. The light of the moon and the dim lamps in the cemetery shone right through her. Tara's hand, reaching for the knife, trembled.

"Tara, baby, why are you doing this?" Willow asked, confused.

"Willow," Tara choked out, her face lit with grief stricken awe. "I-I-I-I miss you. So much."

The apparition that was Willow smiled sadly. "Oh, baby, I miss you too. But you have to stop this. Now."

Spike frowned. "She stops and she dies," he said carefully, staring at Willow. "That what you want?"

"I want things the way they are," Willow answered, glaring at him. "I chose to give my power away. Why are you doing this?"

"I have to," Tara sobbed. "There's so much trouble, Will. So much danger. It's the only way."

Willow shook her head. "No, it's not! You can bring us back. There's a spell...I can tell you were it is. You can bring us back and Buffy can kill this demon, and--"

"Stop!" Spike growled. He stepped behind Tara and held her steady. Whatever this thing in front of them was, he didn't think it was Willow. "You get your after-life rocks off like this?" he asked dangerously, gesturing at Tara's sobbing form.

"Shut up," Willow shouted. "You're confusing her."

Spike ignored her and leaned forward, pressing his head against Tara's. "Listen, pet. If you stop, you'll die. That simple. Won't even be a chance to do that spell."

Tara turned and looked at him, eyes troubled and uncertain.

"He's wrong," the Willow ghost insisted. "Don't listen to him."

"Finish the ritual," Spike said tightly.

"I don't know if I can," Tara admitted. "What...what if she's right? What if I can--"

"Not your place to make those kind of decisions now is it?" Spike interrupted harshly. "And as much as I'd give my life to see her again, Buffy's paid her dues. It's time for her to rest. For all of them to rest."

"But, Willow!" she cried out, grabbing his biceps. "I could have Willow back!"

Spike raised a brow. "And that'd make things right for you?" he asked cynically. "Take the pain away?"

"Yes," Tara replied, nodding. "Because she'll be alive and it'll be right again."

He took hold of her waist and dragged her closer so that he could glare down at her. "Just because she'll be alive again," he said coldly, "won't mean that she never died. And let me say, *yet again*," he went on sarcastically, "that you won't have a chance to do it, because *you'll* die if you don't finish the ritual."

Her eyes slid away and he released her abruptly. "I get it," he said slowly, nodding his head. "You've made your choice, then."

She frowned "I don't want to die," she said, but her voice shook. "I just want Willow back."

"Bullshit," he snapped, stepping back some more. "You want the hurt to go away, but it won't ever. Not completely. It'll always be there, even fifty years from now, 'cause you loved her. And you know that," he added, chuckling darkly. "If you want to die, I'm not helping you. You can do it on your own."

"It's okay, baby," he heard Willow say as he walked away. "We'll be together again; don't listen to him.

He crossed the circle with a tight jaw and tense muscles.

"Go back," Giles snarled at him, grabbing the front of his shirt. "Go back and make her see reason."

Faith pulled the Watcher off of him and Spike shook his head. "It's up to her. Can't force someone to want to live."

He faced the grave again. Willow was smiling, and laughing, and babbling a mile a minute. Tara reached out to her, but her hand passed through Willow like nothing was there, and a frown came to her face.

"How did you get here?" Tara asked, interrupting Willow's monologue about what they'd do once she was alive again.

The wraith frowned and her smile slipped a notch. "What do you mean, honey? It's part of the ritual. I need to give you my permission to...poof my magic."

Tara nodded slowly. "I know. But...I, uh, haven't gotten to that part yet."

Spike's eyes widened, and he heard the others gasp. "Shit," Josh muttered. "Shit. She's right. Willow shouldn't even be here until after Tara calls on Khentimentiu."

A small smile pulled at Spike's lips. "That's a girl," he murmured, watching the scene carefully.

Willow started rambling again, doing her best to convince Tara it was really her, but Tara was looking sadder by the word. "The crone told me," Tara interrupted suddenly. "She said...she said that there would be other chances. For me to lose it. She said I would be my own worst hurdle." She looked at the empty vial of Immortal Essence. "You're not Willow," she said flatly.

The apparition looked horrified. "How can you say that?" it cried out. "I chose you over Oz! I brought you an extra flamey candle and--"

"Tell me about the time Spike kidnapped you," Tara interrupted once again.

"He took me and Xander," the non-Willow said hesitantly. "He wanted me to do a spell and I said I would. He left us alone and then Oz and Cordy rescued us."

Tara stared at the ground. "And?"

The apparition frowned. "And, what?"

"And there had to be more to it," Tara pushed on, her body shaking. "More...details."

"Well, yeah, but I don't remember all the details."

"How about just one." Tara lifted sorrowful and hard eyes. "A single detail."

"It was so long ago," the vision said sadly, "and, well, I'm *dead* and it's hard to remember things."

Tara nodded. "I understand. You can only tell me things that I already know," she whispered. "Because you're not Willow." She took a deep breath. "You're a hurdle, and I am my own worst hurdle."

The apparition was silent for a long moment, and then it shifted until it became Tara for just a second, and then it faded away. It took effort on Spike's part to stay on his side of the circle, but he did it. This was Tara's show, and she was ahead of the game so far.

Tara spent a minute shaking and crying before she wiped her eyes and finally retrieved Khentimentiu's knife from the gravestone. "Hear me, he who rules the destiny of those who have passed," she intoned through her tears. "With this talisman I do call you. Hear my call and appear before me." She brought the tip of the knife to her palm and pressed it to her skin until blood was drawn.

There was a flash of light, and the barrier was visible for a second, and then the light drew together just in front of Tara, drew together until a form became recognizable to Spike. "Khentimentiu," he breathed, blinking.

"You have called and I have answered," Khentimentiu said formally. "What is it you ask of me?"

Tara dropped to her knees and forced her hand into the burrow she'd dug out months ago. When she pulled it out almost immediately, Spike saw the clump of dirt in her hand. She got to her feet again, head lowered submissively and hand held out. "With the earth of her grave, I ask that Willow Rosenburg be brought here, made corporeal and true."

Spike felt himself tense when Khentimentiu didn't respond immediately. Tara's eyes lifted, questions in them as she looked at the god.

"You have come with a true purpose," Khentimentiu finally boomed. "And I will honor your request." He held his hand under Tara's, and she opened her fist so that the dirt fell to his palm. "With the earth of her grave, I call Willow Rosenburg from the realm of the dead to the realm of the living.

He closed his hand into a fist and even through the circle, Spike could feel the tingle of magic that came from Khentimentiu as he absorbed the dirt into his skin. Then the god took a step back, seeming to be pulling himself away from something that now stood where he had, and when he finished moving, Spike saw a blank-faced Willow in his place.

Tara looked away and picked up the seeds. "This sustenance from the Underworld I take knowingly," she recited, and it appeared that all her will power was being focused on not looking at Willow. She placed the seeds on her tongue and swallowed. "Let it bind me to the dead. Let it make us seen and heard by one another." A ripple spread across the area encased by the circle, Willow and Tara at its center.

Tara closed her eyes and took a breath, her words coming in a rush of almost indecipherable syllables. "Willow Rosenburg, will you take your power back and bring it with you when you return to the land of the dead?"

There was no answer.

Tara frowned and spoke again. "Willow Rosenburg, will you take your power back and bring it with you when you return to the land of the dead?" There was still no answer, and Tara opened her eyes and looked accusingly at Khentimentiu. "You said you'd help me," she said angrily.

"I'm sorry, but there's only so much I can do. You can't speak with her," Khentimentiu replied, sounding regretful.

Tara's hands twitched. "Why are you doing this?" she asked, confused and hurt. Spike gave up the sidelines gig and crossed the space between them in four long strides.

Khentimentiu looked meaningfully at Spike's hand on her arm, then stared patiently at Tara until she looked away from the blank-faced Willow. "You have come here with the answers to the questions you had about yourself, and those answers let you get this far. But you haven't taken what those answers have offered."

Spike's eyes widened, and for some reason he turned his head, seeing Olson, Giles, Dawn, Josh and Faith standing just ten feet away. Tara drew his attention back when she yanked her arm away from him. She advanced on Khentimentiu, that closeted rage brimming under the surface. The god stood calmly before her simmering emotions, giving her no reaction.

"I have," she hissed. "I've taken every miserable crumb that they left to replace the huge pieces they took."

Spike found himself staring at the others again, and then his mind felt like it was stretching out, reaching and finally taking hold of something that had been well within reach.

*the guys that put this together were uber-good guys*

*it's about intent*

*this lying they each did all the while each knowing the truth*

*it's a journey*

*it is soothing and helps to focus, to banish grief*

"No," Spike said slowly. Tara spun on her heel and glared at him, eyes glittering violently. "No," he said again, shaking his head.

"How dare you!" she shouted at him. "You know I have. You were with me the entire time and you forced--"

He laid his hand across her mouth, holding the back of his head with his other hand so that she couldn't pull away. "Listen to me," he bit out. She stilled in his grip, but her eyes were shutting him out. He leaned forward and bored into them with his own, putting every bit of the ruthless, immutable tosser that he was in the look. "*Hear* what I'm about to say, pet," he said icily. "Understand it and believe it, because you are going to be *screwed* if you don't."

She was like a rabbit that had just turned a corner and come face to face with a wolf. All frozen muscles and pounding heart and rolling fear. Good. Perfect. There were scuffling leaves and shouts from where the others stood, but out of the corner of his eye, Spike saw Khentimentiu approach them, one hand held out.

He drew her closer and tilted her head back. "This damn ritual isn't benign, and the White Hat gits that put it together knew what could be done with it. There is only one bloody condition," he bit out sharply. He let a pause drag out, then said, "If your motives seem shady, it doesn't work. That's why it fails." Just in case she didn't get it, he said it a little differently, "If you're not honest, then your motives look shady, and you. Will. Fail."

There was no need to look away when her face seemed to crumble in a mass of confusion; no way in hell he was going to cave on this. He clenched his hand in her hair, and when she made a pained noise he relaxed his hand and pushed her away.

Pale blue eyes went blank as she tried to figure out what he was saying. But she already knew. The little bit of color in her face bled away, and she stumbled back against the headstone, scattering the components.

"Are you choosing to end the ritual now?" Khentimentiu asked.

Spike jerked his head around so sharply that it hurt, and stared at the god, who made a gesture with his hand. Then, Spike could feel death in the air. The stench of it gathered around Tara. Clinging to her and settling down for a good long stay. It came with sounds--screeches and wails and maniacal laughter.

The noise was deafening, and Tara reached for him at the same time that he reached for her. Their hands stopped just a short distance apart, and they stared at one another for a long, drawn out moment until Spike took a step back, and another, and another, until he was standing with the others.

"No, I'm not ending it," Tara said firmly.

Even on the other side of the circle, Spike felt the air clear around Tara. The others were staring at him, their eyes confused and worried. "Just watch," Spike told them. "Watch."

At the headstone, Tara leaned down and picked up the onyx, holding it tightly in her hand. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Khentimentiu raised a brow, and she took a deep breath. This time, the words came.

"I killed Willow," she said lowly.

Giles and Dawn gasped, horrified little sounds that faded into sighs as they realized the clues had been there all along, if only they'd paid attention.

"Oh god," Dawn muttered. Spike drew her to him and she leaned her back against his chest as they watched Tara steady herself once again.

"Glory...Glory knew she was going to die," the blond went on thickly. "So she told me to do it. She wanted to take out as many of us as possible. And I did it. I picked up the pipe and looked for my Willow. I came up behind her, and she turned around. She turned around and she saw me, and she knew what was going to happen. She smiled and told me that she loved me, and I hit her. Over and over again.

"Then...everything went away. *I* went away. When I came back, I didn't...I couldn't tell what had been real. I saw Willow and the pipe and I still didn't know that I'd done it. And Spike made me say goodbye and then he took me away. It was...I don't know how long until I realized."

She looked at Spike and he lifted a tired shoulder. "Was 'bout a week, pet," he answered. "The first night you went wandering."

Nodding slowly, she took a breath. "I still tried to deny it, tried to pretend it was a...wrong memory. But her magic was in me, and it was real.

She broke off then, unable to continue speaking due to the force of the sobs that were now wracking her body. Spike wanted to go to her, like he had so often, but he knew that what they'd been doing--the silence they'd been getting from each other--had no place there anymore.

"How did you know?" Giles rasped. Spike turned to the Watcher.

He lifted a shoulder. "Dozen little ways," Spike said lowly. "She didn't recover the way she should have, and all of a sudden her magic was a lot stronger than it had ever been."

Dawn shifted in his arms, her face pressed against his chest. "Why didn't you say anything?" she whispered against his shirt. "We would have helped her. It wasn't her fault and we wouldn't have blamed her. God, Spike. She needed us--"

"No, she didn't," Giles said suddenly, his tone knowing. "It would have made it worse for her, wouldn't it? To have us know."

"Yeah," Spike agreed.

"*Nefer*," Khentimentiu was saying. "You have to ask now."

But Tara didn't hear him. The god studied her for a moment, then cut his eyes to the patient Willow. He moved in front of the redhead and put his hands on either side of her head. There was a subtle flash of white, then his hands lowered and Spike sucked in a breath. His desperate eyes fell on Josh and he spun on his heel, turning his back to the scene, Dawn still in his arms. "Take her back to the shop," Spike ground out. "Now."

"I don't want to go," Dawn argued, hiccupping. "Why do I have to leave? Tara's upset."

Spike stared down at her. "Because it's about to get bad, Bit," he said honestly. "And there's no need for you to get put through the wringer again."

She seemed like she wanted to argue, but she really had grown up. A tired and weary look came into her eyes and she nodded. She kept her head down when she turned away so that she wouldn't see anything. Josh put an arm around her shoulder and they hurried away.

Faith was staring, wide-eyed, at the figures at the grave. "That's--that's Willow," she breathed. "Really Willow. Not a ghost or something. Willow."

Tara was oblivious to it all, lost in finally letting the emotions--the true emotions--out. Willow looked up at Khentimentiu, her eyes asking permission, and he nodded. She took two steps and then sank to her knees in front of Tara. "Baby, it's all right. Shhh."

Willow wrapped her arms around Tara and gently rocked her. When Tara finally realized who was holding her, she pushed away and gaped. "W-W-W- Willow?" she asked tremulously. "Is it--is it you?"

That wide grin of Willow's was plastered all over her face. "Yep, in the flesh and blood." She tilted her head. "Well, kind of. I mean, I am flesh and blood, but it's not like I can stay this way and it's only because Khentimentiu is letting me, but for now I am--"

Spike couldn't help but smile. That babbling finally got through to Tara and she launched herself at Willow, the pair tumbling onto the ground, laughter and crying being carried to Spike on a breeze.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Tara kept repeated, though the tears and through the laughter, just a constant mantra that Willow kissed away.

"Hey, knock it off, missy," the redhead finally said. She sat up and pulled Tara along with her. "You're not going to waste the teensy amount of time we have by telling me stuff that I already know. Of course, some stuff I already know would be nice to hear, but that's not one of them."

"I miss you, Will," Tara whispered, touching the other girl's face. "So much."

Willow's happy expression softened. "That's more like it. I know, baby. I miss you, too." She sighed and pushed Tara's hair from her face. "It's a big old mess, isn't it?"

"Pretty much," Tara agreed, sniffling. "But--but we're going to fix it now, aren't we?"

"Yeah, we are. But I'm stealing a few minutes here before I do the official agreeing." She pulled Tara close to her and kissed the top of your head. "How've you been? 'Cause there's not like a monitor or something where I can see you."

"Not good," the blond admitted. "But...I think that I'm kind of where I should be now."

Willow grinned. "Good."

"What--what about you?" Tara asked softly, clasping one of Willow's hands in hers.

"It's peaceful, Tara," Willow said gently. "I don't think it's a place, just a state of being, I guess. And nothing and everything matters, but it's all good and right."

"There's only so much of a delay I can allow," Khentimentiu informed them.

The women nodded, and Tara's face cracked a little but it should have, and she didn't force it back together this time, just felt it. Spike knew then that it was going to be all right for her, that she wouldn't be running back to Wildwind.

"Baby, I love you. I loved you from almost the moment I knew you," Willow said, her voice thick with emotion. "I loved you when Oz came back, and when your family tried to take you away, and when Glory hurt you." She used her free hand to wipe the tears from Tara's cheek. "And I loved you with my dying breath. I never stopped loving you."

"I know," Tara croaked. "I saw your eyes, and I know. Oh, Will, I love you. Like no one else."

Willow smiled softly. "I don't hate you or blame you. That wasn't you, that wasn't my Tara."

Tara took a deep breath. "I get that now," she confessed. "I didn't for a while, but I do now. It'll always hurt. In here." She pressed their joined hands against her heart. "And I'll always feel bad, but I get it now."

"You have to ask me now, honey," Willow whispered. "You have to ask me."

Blond hair cascaded around Tara's face as she ducked her head. "Will you take your power back and bring it with you when you return to the land of the dead?"

Willow touched her fingers to Tara's chin and lifted her head. "Yes, I will." And she lowered her head and her lips met Tara's. The kiss was chaste, just the brushing of lips, but when Willow pulled back, Tara sighed, and from her mouth came a mist that slid into Willow's with a gentle sigh of sound.

"Love you," they whispered simultaneously.

Then Willow got to her feet and Khentimentiu held out his hand. Willow took it and he pulled her forward, closer and closer, until there was nowhere else to go, but she kept going. Kept moving forward into him until there was nothing left.

He nodded his head at Tara. "It has been an honor, *nefer*."

"Thank you," she said simply. "For everything."

He smiled. "Think nothing of it. I should be leaving now."

She smiled with gratitude and pulled her knees to her chest, staring thoughtfully at Willow's headstone. Khentimentiu didn't disappear the way he'd appeared. Instead, Spike saw him coming directly towards him, and he frowned.

"Spike," he said graciously. "You did an admirable job of understanding the hint I gave you. You got her here and ready for this."

He shrugged and looked away from Khentimentiu's intense gaze, and the searching stares of the others. "Yeah, well, she would have been able to do it herself."

"No, she wouldn't have," he denied. "Alone, she would have kept herself distant from everything she was supposed to learn." Khentimentiu nodded once more to the assembled group before slipping out of sight.

**

The barrier stayed in place for half an hour. Spike and the others remained silent, watching Tara gather herself on Willow's grave. When she stood, there was a slight exhalation of air around them, and Olson reached out a tentative hand to find the barrier gone.

Tara came their way slowly, her eyes on Spike. She stopped a foot away, and stared up at him with the clearest eyes he'd seen in months. It was Tara there, for now and for good.

They stared at one another while the others watched with confusion. Things were different now. The silence they had sought with each other, the peace of understanding...they didn't need it. Tara frowned, tilted her head to the side as she tried to figure it out.

And Spike grinned at her, relaxing for the first time in months, and raised a brow at her. She blinked, then looked down at herself before looking back at him. There was awe in her eyes, and he knew that his face reflected it. Things just settled on their own sometimes.

"Pulled it off, did you?" he teased her, and she smiled shyly, her head ducking in that familiar manner of hers. He wasn't just talking about the Cerno.

"Yeah, and so did you," she replied easily, and she wasn't just talking about the Cerno either.

There were answers and explanations that were being demanded, and Tara smiled quizzically at the two Watchers and the Slayer. "Hi," she said, as though just seeing them all for the first time, and they all got real quiet, real fast.

Giles stammered and stuttered, suggesting they go back to the magic shop for the inquisition, but Tara shook her head. "We've, uh, got to do something first," she averred, motioning at Spike.

He frowned at her, but she just raised a brow and he understood. "Yeah," he said to the others, "we'll meet you back there."

Giles started arguing, but Tara and Spike simply started down the path at the foot of Willow's grave and wound their way through the cemetery until they were on the sidewalk. They walked side by side, and for a block they kicked a rock between them until Tara's aim got screwy and it went shooting off into the night.

She shrugged philosophically and they turned onto a dark street that led to one of the older cemeteries in Sunnydale. The most recent official burial there had taken place about eighty years before. Unofficially, it had only been a year since he and Giles had dug six feet into the earth with Dawn and Tara watching.

Tara stayed back as he approached the grave. The headstone made him smile somewhat condescendingly. He hadn't been here since they'd set Buffy's body down and then covered it with dirt. Coming here would have constituted a hell of a lot of thinking, so instead he'd gone to the house of Revello, where scents evoked memories that had required no thought.

Maybe he'd come back again, have something to say at that time. Because he didn't have anything to say now. Tara smiled at him and held out a hand, which he took, and then they started walking.

"This has been a really depressing night," Tara commented. "Uplifting realizations aside."

Spike laughed. "You're a master of understatement, pet," he drawled.

***

The group at the Magic Box was uncommonly silent when he and Tara stepped inside. Dawn's eyes widened, and she started to move, but froze uncertainly. Tara let go of Spike's hand and went to the girl, smiling gently and wrapping her arms around Dawn.

Spike realized that this was the first time since Willow had died that Tara had initiated a touch with someone other than him. It took a huge weight from his shoulders.

"It's okay, Dawnie," Tara soothed when the teenager began to cry again. "Everything's good now, I swear."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Dawn choked out. "Is it like Giles said? Would it have made it harder for you?"

Tara briefly closed her eyes, tears starting to fall down her face as well. "Yeah, but...I didn't want it to be true, you know? And saying it would make it true." She made a small noise. "That doesn't make any sense, but I wasn't making any sense for a while."

"It makes perfect sense," Giles said gently, staring at Tara and Dawn. "I'm sorry that I was so difficult about everything. I didn't understand."

Tara pulled away from Dawn slowly, letting the touching drag on as long as possible, then crossed the room to Giles. "You don't have anything to be sorry for," she countered. "You couldn't have known."

Giles raised a brow. "Spike knew," he said, somewhat self-deprecatingly.

Tara looked at Spike, smiling. "Yes, well, he's not your average bear."

Spike saw Giles eyes fall on him. "How did you figure out the secret of the ritual?"

He sat at the table and leaned back, stretching his legs out in front of him. "The page I ripped out? Says that only the recipient can do the Cerno. Got me to thinking. Khentimentiu told me that gathering everything was a journey. First I thought he meant a figurative one, and he did," he acknowledged. "But there was more to it." He shrugged. "They were trials, and trials test worthiness. Tara had come through all of them with flying colors, and there was only one thing she hadn't done. I didn't think it made a difference until I thought about where the onyx fit into it all."

"I don't get it," Faith said, frowning. "What didn't she do?"

"I hadn't acknowledged that I...killed Willow," Tara answered, her eyes darkening. "Even though I'd had to face it a bunch of times. I was holding back."

Josh narrowed his eyes. "Oh," he breathed. "Onyx helps you move past grief."

Tara nodded, then looked from Dawn to Giles. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I just couldn't. It was so hard to deal with, and Willow's magic didn't help. It was, um, kind of pervasive and it didn't integrate very well. It...hurt, actually."

Olson frowned. "Was that why you didn't recover like the others did?" he ventured.

"I think so."

"But you're better now?" Dawn asked hopefully. "Sane and everything?"

"Mostly," Tara said, smiling again. "Just the normal stuff going on now."

Dawn launched herself at Tara, clinging to her as she had so often in the past, and this time Tara leaned into it instead of pulling back. "Good," Dawn whispered fervently. "Good."

***

It was almost dawn by the time they left the shop and went their separate ways. Giles agreed to drive Spike and Tara over to the apartment so that Spike wouldn't burst into flames.

"Gee, thanks," Spike drawled in return, nodding a goodbye to Josh, Olson and Dawn as they made their way to Olson's SUV.

There was still the matter of the Arcepts to deal with, but they didn't anticipate that being such a problem any longer. Tara had told them that the Arcepts would be aware of Willow's power disappearing, as it were, from this plane. Faith was going to head back to the grave, just in case they didn't get the message. Spike was of the opinion that she simply wanted to kill something. He understood that, but he was too damn exhausted to want to join her, and there was also the complication of the coming sunrise.

Faith was loping down the street, strides long and determined, muscles tensed and ready for anything. She raised an arm in parting, not looking around at any of them. That was a woman with a mission, and it made him grin ferally. However he'd felt for Buffy, he could associate with Faith on a different level. Killing made things better. No question about it.

The SUV stopped after Olson pulled away from the curb, and Dawn stuck her head out of the back window. "We're having normal time tomorrow," she said stubbornly. "I don't care what's going on."

Tara chuckled. "No matter what," she promised, waving as Olson drove on.

"Yes, well, my car is...right here," Giles said awkwardly, jingling his keys and gesturing at the sedan just in front of them. "Off we go."

Even though Tara sat in the front seat, thereby forcing Spike to take the non-position in the backseat, there was still a thick tension emanating from Giles as he drove. Spike didn't really care about it. Even with promises that had grown past their initial boundaries. The man had to come to grip with some things, and no one could help him with that. Buffy, Willow, Xander and Anya were gone. Faith, Olson and Josh now handled apocalypses and Slaying. He had to find his own way to accept it.

When they stopped in front of the building, Giles said nothing. Tara glanced from his tight face to Spike, then reached for the door handle. "Um, I'm going to go...inside. Now. Bye."

She scampered from the car as quickly as she could with the busted ribs, and Spike rolled his eyes and got out of the car as well. Giles did the same, and he paused, staring at the man.

"What?" he asked when Giles didn't say anything.

"Faith is right," Giles said lowly, posture stiff and eyes focused on the pavement between his feet. "I don't have the right to tell them what to do, or how to do it."

Spike shrugged. "That's up for debate," he said negligently. "You've got the experience, yeah?"

Giles leveled a scathing look at him. "Don't play dense, Spike; it doesn't suit you."

"Fine," he replied, tossing his hands up. "You're being an ass about it all. Is that what you want to hear? You're riding them so hard that they can't stand the sound of your voice, the sight of your face. " He smirked. "Damn proud of you, Giles. That's how I kept my minions in line, back in the day."

"Yes, and now you can't so much as think about biting someone," Giles retorted sharply. "Get to your point."

Spike glared at him, then forced a whoosh of air from his mouth. "You don't like me, and I don't like you. But you know what I made of that promise to Buffy." He waited until Giles nodded stiffly. "Faith isn't straying back to the other side," he told the Watcher reluctantly. "They can handle this. All of it. But they're not going to be doing it the same way that you and the others did. Can't expect them to."

"I do know that, Spike," Giles replied.

"Then start acting like it," Spike said harshly. "Go on with your bloody boring life and let them do what they have to do. You've been here, mate. You know how hard it is--how much it takes to stay together. They don't need the added fun of your nit-picking."

Giles started to respond, but Spike shook his head. "I'm not a bleeding counselor," he snapped. "And I need to get inside before I'm so much ash."

Once in the apartment, he found that Tara had changed and was getting settled on the couch with a blanket and some pillows. He raised a brow, and she shrugged. "Things aren't the same," she explained, and he knew she was right.

But he walked to the sofa, leaned down, and lifted her without saying a word. He could feel her eyes on him, knew they were wide and filled with questions that he wasn't going to answer. He heard her sigh as he reached the door to his room. "It's not the same," she told him again.

Spike held her over the bed for one long moment, catching her eyes, then let her drop gently. She didn't look away as he shed the duster and then pulled his t-shirt over his head.

"I'm not going to have sex with you," she told him seriously.

He gaped at her, but then he saw the mild amusement on her face, and he laughed. "Right, I'm all torn up about that," he drawled. "Had my mind all set on it." He pointed at her. "And if you keep on talking like that, going back to the loony bin won't be a voluntary choice this time."

Tara adjusted the sheet so that it was on top of her. "You're mean," she said somberly. "Mean like a soulless, evil vampire."

He smirked and turned off the light, then flopped down next to her. "Thanks, pet."

"...so, you don't want to have sex with me, then?"

In the dark, Spike grinned up at the ceiling. "I prefer women who know what to do with my...equipment."

"Hm, I understand that. That's why I stick with women, too."

"Brat."

***

He woke just after sunset to an apartment empty except for the Slayer and himself. He ran into her in the hallway, as she was coming out of the bathroom with her pajamas tucked under her arm. "Where's Tara?" he asked.

"Out with Dawn," Faith replied. "Giles called a meeting at the Magic Box, though, and they're going to be there for it."

Spike grunted. "A meeting?" he repeated. "For what?"

Faith shrugged. "Who the fuck knows? Maybe we're not breathing right. Anyway, it's in half an hour so you might want to get ready."

She turned away, and he asked, "What's the latest on the Arcepts?"

Only her head moved, inching to the left so that she peered at him through a curtain of dark hair, a satisfied smile on her face. "A couple of them showed up at Willow's grave and did some kind of spell, then had a conniption fit," she told him smugly. "Ran back to their leader, and I followed." She paused, the smile shifting into a smirk. "Don't think they'll be a problem anymore."

Spike returned the smirk. "Like your style," he said approvingly.

He took a shower and got dressed, and Faith was waiting impatiently for him in the living room. "Come on, let's get this over with," she groused, tossing him his duster before grabbing a denim jacket for herself.

"Can we recap?" Faith asked slowly after they'd gone several blocks. "Because I'm still a little confused, and I didn't want to slam Tara with questions."

Spike shrugged and pulled out his cigarettes. "I guess."

"Glory fucked with Tara's head, and the night she tried to break down the barriers between dimensions, she had Tara kill Willow?" Spike nodded. "And Willow--what? Very quickly did the spell for transferring her power?" she asked dubiously.

"Yes," Spike told her grimly. "Don't ask me why, because ferreting out what went on in Willow's head wasn't as easy as it sounds sometimes. Maybe she didn't look into it enough to know how bloody wrong it could go."

Faith snorted. "I don't know much about magic, but I'd think that setting that up would take more than a few seconds. How did she manage it?"

Spike came to a halt, and Faith went a few more steps before realizing. She stared at him curiously and he narrowed his eyes. "Don't think you get how powerful she was at the end," he told her carefully. "Got seriously pissed after Glory got her hooks into Tara." He shook his head. "I don't know the details, but I do know that she somehow managed to go head to head with Glory and walk away. After that?" He shrugged and looked away. "Chit scared the hell out of *me* and I've seen a lot of mojo get flashed around."

There was silence for a moment, then Faith said, "Are we talking black magic here? Because--Willow? Never struck me as the type. Way goody goody."

But Spike knew that still waters ran deep, and even though no one had ever told him the details of Willow's run in with Glory, he'd seen Buffy give Anya a book of dark arts whose lock had been broken apart. The book had been stashed away in the shop safe and Anya had scowled anytime Willow was in its vicinity. Plus, there'd been a hardness in Willow at the end. Something chilling and off-putting. Not every second of the time, but enough that Spike had begun watching his words around her.

"Not saying that," Spike lied. "Just saying that I've seen the transfer spell, and it's damn possible she was able to do it that fast."

"All right," Faith said with a shrug. "So then Glory dies--and no one knows how that happened, apparently--and everyone goes back to normal. But not Tara, because Will's magic throws her out of whack. She doesn't tell anyone what happened, but you figure it out anyway and send her off to Bellevue."

"Wildwind," he corrected crossly. "It was a damn nice place. And I didn't send her off because she killed Willow. Two entirely unrelated facts, you hear?" Faith held her hands up in surrender, and Spike glared at her. "Right. Then the Arcepts came and she put the sigils on everyone and went off to get the stuff for the Cerno," he rattled off in a monotone. "Simple as that."

"Simple," Faith repeated disbelievingly. "I think you and I have totally different definitions of that word. Is Tara just suddenly...fine?"

"Not even close," Spike said immediately. "But she will be."

***

The first thing Spike noticed upon entering the Magic Box with Faith was that Dawn was conspicuously missing. "Where's the Niblet?" Spike asked suspiciously. Josh pointed to the training room and Spike relaxed.

Giles was holding court, standing in the center of the room, Olson, Josh and Tara seated at the table. "Why don't you both have a seat," he said, gesturing to the table. Spike and Faith traded confused looks, then shrugged and did as he suggested. "Yes, well, I'm not going to belabor something that really needs to be put to rest, but I feel there are things I need to say."

"What the hell are you blathering on about?" Spike demanded. "Making about as much sense as you did when you were a Fyarl and all 'smash, grab, argh'."

Giles didn't rise to the bait, merely pinned stern eyes on Spike and sighed. "I've been giving some thought to what Faith said yesterday," Giles admitted. He took a moment to meet each person's eyes, and Spike had to admit the man had stones. Not many people would have been able to stand there and do that.

"Hey, look," Faith interrupted. "I know it's hard for you and I'm sorry I went into bitch mode."

"You shouldn't be," Giles said dryly. "It was well deserved, much as I am loathe to admit that. You have all lived up to your duties beyond reproach, going so far as to hold your tongues for months in deference to my feelings." His lips lifted, the smile not reaching his eyes. "The same can not be said for me, however. I don't pretend that everything's sorted now, but I think that perhaps monthly visits here aren't necessary any longer."

"Whatever you think is best, Giles," Faith said seriously. "I wasn't trying to scare you off, you know. Just make you take it down a notch."

"Yes, well, until I feel that I can do that," Giles said, looking away, "I will do my best to keep a distance."

"We appreciate that," Olson told the other Watcher, eyes kind. "Just as we've appreciated all of the assistance and guidance you've offered us."

"But it's time to let the bird leave the nest, no?" Giles finished sardonically.

Faith snickered and stared pointedly at Josh. "Well past time; we've already had baby birds of our own."

"Screw you," Josh grumbled, but he was more at ease than Spike had seem him in the last twenty-four hours.

Spike snorted. "Now that the After School Special is over and done, someone want to tell me why Dawn's in there alone?"

Tara raised her head. "Oh. She said she had some book to read over Break."

Spike didn't particularly believe that. Dawn had put off all of her Christmas break work until the night before school started up again. She'd called him at midnight, begging and pleading for help with a history paper. But maybe she'd learned her lesson and was applying it to Spring Break? He snorted. Not bloody likely.

Maybe she'd opted for sitting someplace where arguments weren't threatening, and the tension wasn't palpable? Yeah, that sounded right.

"What did you two do today?" he asked Tara.

The blond witch smiled happily. "We went out for brunch. "Then we, uh, sat at the Espresso Pump. Talking."

Josh rolled his eyes. "Talking? I bet you did most of the listening," he drawled sardonically. "The girl can talk."

Spike had to laugh. Josh wasn't known for his listening skills, either. Dawn and Josh together was probably a contest of who could talk over who the most.

"Yeah, I didn't get a chance to say much," Tara conceded with a chuckle. "But it was nice. Her talking like that? It means things are good."

"Quite," Giles agreed, leaning against the counter and giving them a small, genuine smile. "Her chattering level was how we measured just how...bad a situation was."

Spike went outside to have a cigarette when the others started shelving books and putting all the research materials away. Tara made do with stacking papers since she couldn't stretch up to put the books away. Five cigarettes later, everything had been put in its place, and Spike deemed it safe to head back in.

"Perfect timing, as usual," Olson commented drolly, wiping sweat from his forehead.

Spike grinned. "I pride myself on it." He started towards the back of the store. "Gonna check on Dawn."

In the training room, he could smell the tears, could hear the stifled sobs that Dawn was trying to hide. Her back was to him, and Spike closed the door with a click, staring at her. "What's the matter, Bit?" he asked cautiously.

"I'm stupid," she said midway between a laugh and a sniffle.

"What? Stupid? Not even close," he countered, trying to inject some cheer into his voice. He didn't quite make it. Something about this scene was making his stomach knot with apprehension.

Dawn turned around, her face blotchy from tears, and her eyes far older than her years. "If you got the chip out, you'd go back to this." She held up an old leather-bound book and he knew, just knew, what it was. "You'd kill and hurt people and I never realized it."

"Bit--Dawn--"

His words stopped when he saw her gaze flicker away. She was locking him out. God, no.

"I always thought Buffy was being unfair, you know?" she went on, her voice sad. "She trusted us with you."

"I never let her down," Spike quickly reminded her, stepping forward. Dawn took a step back and he froze, watching her wrap her arms around her waist and huddle in on herself.

"You didn't," Dawn acknowledged. She wiped her face and tossed the Watchers' Journal to the floor. "But for some reason, I thought that meant you had changed. And no one else thought that. Not Xander or Anya or Willow or Giles or Buffy." She winced. "Not even you." He couldn't think of a damned thing to say then, one single thing that would keep her from doing what he knew she was about to do. "But I believed it. Even Faith knows. She shares her home with you but she knows."

"Dawn, listen to me," he pleaded desperately, willing her to meet his eyes. "Chip or no chip, I'd never hurt you. You know that."

"I know, but that's not really the point, and I finally see that."

Someone might as well have reached down his throat and ripped his insides out. He'd hoped she'd never get to this point. Never see what she'd refused to see for so long.

"I've never denied what I've done, what I am, what I'd do," he said lowly. "Not even to you. Especially to you, actually."

A small nod and a twisted smile. Oh, it hurt to see that look on Dawn's face. "And that's why I'm stupid," she said bitterly. "Because I thought it wasn't the real you. I didn't understand. And I can't--I don't--"

"Dawn," he almost shouted, frantic and uncaring of anything but preventing her from saying what she was about to say.

"You're not going to need that apartment in Los Angeles anymore," she finally said, her voice thick with emotion. And steel. She had given this thought, had made the decision she didn't want to, and there would be no going back. Spike flinched as though she'd hit him. "I can't have you in my life," she sobbed. "I understand now, and I can't pretend that I don't."

He stood there, frozen to the floor as she approached him, and he blinked when she hugged him, and he closed his eyes when she kissed his cheek, and he curled his hands into fists when she walked away with a whispered, "I'm sorry."

Only a Summers could hurt him like this. Spike stumbled to the side, then leaned down and braced his hands on the table against the wall of the training room. It wasn't fair. Just wasn't fair that he'd shoved that other pain out of him, finally, just to have it replaced with this one.

The door opened, and he knew that the throat being cleared politely belonged to Giles before the other man even spoke. "Faith is going to bring Dawn home," he said quietly, closing the door. Spike stared down at his hands, still on the table, and didn't say anything. "I'm sure you don't care, but I'm sorry," Giles offered.

"You're right," Spike replied flatly. "I also don't believe you."

"Yes, well," Giles muttered, clearing his throat again. "Perhaps that wasn't truthful." A moment later, he continued. "For someone with such...insight into others, you can't be entirely ignorant of yourself, Spike. Whether you want to admit it to me or Dawn or anyone else, I certainly hope you admit to yourself that it's for the best."

Spike turned on his heel and glared at Giles. "I would never have hurt her in any way," he spat. "Whether *you* want to admit it to yourself or not, Rupert."

But Giles didn't back down. He stared at Spike blandly. "You wouldn't have meant to, no, but you would have. You can't relate to her, to what hurts her. You might understand it, but how long would it have been until that understanding--not tempered by the empathy of someone who is hurt in the same manner--led to you dismissing that pain as unimportant? As trivial?"

Spike realized he didn't have a comeback for that. Hell, he'd done that enough with Buffy, hadn't he? Chaining her up next to Dru to prove his love in a way she'd understand. Trying to connect with her over tales of Slayers killed, thinking she'd get it, get him. Only she hadn't, because he was a vampire and she was human, and understanding and connections weren't forged in the same manners.

If Dawn hadn't decided to cut him out of her life, what were the chances that he would never had made the same missteps with her that he had with her sister? Pretty much nil, he acknowledged to himself, laughing bitterly. And wouldn't that have been a kick in the arse, him hurting Dawn and failing Buffy in one fell swoop.

***

It wasn't difficult to leave without anyone knowing. Faith hit the streets the next night just after sunset for the first round of patrols, and Giles was already on a plane to England. Olson and Josh were taking Tara out to dinner, in an effort to get to know her and try to convince her to stay and add her talents to theirs. Spike already knew what her answer would be to that, but he didn't bother clueing the lovebirds in.

Despite knowing where she should have been, Spike wasn't at all surprised to see Tara leaning against the side of the Jeep when he stepped out onto the street. He and Tara had a knack, didn't they?

She smiled at him, a wide, bright smile that was barely sad. "So," she said teasingly, "know where you're going?"

Spike laughed and tossed his bag to the ground. "Yeah, I know," he answered, leaning next to her and unable to keep the smile from his face. Tara just nodded.

"So you told them you'd stay and begged off dinner," he drawled, and she chuckled, a melodic husky sound that wrapped around him and made him sigh.

She nudged him with her elbow. "They, um, really wanted to do dinner then, but I wanted to see you before you left."

"Did you tell them I was taking off?" Spike asked, staring down the street. She was silent, but he thought he could hear her roll her eyes. "No, no, you didn't."

"If you'd wanted them to know you were going to sort yourself out, you would have told them," Tara said eventually. "You don't need to distance yourself from them, you know. They're really, um, different than the others."

Spike slung his arm across her shoulders and pulled her to him. "I think you're slipping," he teased. "That's not why I'm leaving."

"Oh, I know that," she said with a nod. "I just meant...you should come back. No matter what. We'll all miss you."

Spike sighed. "Not everyone will."

"Dawn *will* miss you," Tara countered fervently. "Even if she thinks she won't. She's just upset."

"She's right," Spike put in tiredly.

"Well, that too," Tara agreed readily.

"Why don't you feel the same?" he asked before he could stop himself. Tara stepped in front of him and Spike waved his hands, trying to erase the words. "Never mind."

She looked at him for a good long while, gaze measuring and brow furrowed. "Call. When you're gone?" she finally said, and he had the feeling that she had been about to say something else. "So I know you're, um, not dust."

Spike nodded slowly, staring into her secret-ridden pale eyes and wondering for the first time if she'd somehow felt the emotions attached to his secrets too. "Sure," he murmured, then shook his head and pulled her to him for a hug. "Goodbye."

Her face softened and her eyes twinkled. "No," she denied. His lips twitched. "It's just...see you."

She watched with clear eyes as he took up his bag and got into the Jeep, and she waved when he pulled away.

***

~End Elysium~

The title for this story was taken from the D.H. Lawrence poem of the same name.

Mythical Notes: I've taken complete license with Khentimentiu. There is no record of him having been a shifter or a vampire or anything other than the ruler of the destiny of the dead. What that entails can be interpreted differently, but since there is a god of the dead, I chose to interpret his duties as governing what happens to people after death. Since vampires are kind of dead, I've also granted him some dominion over them, as well as knocked him down from god status to lackey to the Powers.

According to Roman and Greek mythology, it wasn't the pomegranate specifically that tied Proserpina--Persephone to the Greeks--to the Underworld. Historically, anything she might have eaten while there would have done the trick. I chose to bring the pomegranate itself up from the Underworld to act as the catalyst. I also expanded on what being bound to the Underworld means, and played fast and loose with how it works.

The Anointing Bowl, the Onyx Heart, the Crone, Khentimentiu's Keepers, Marianna, the Immortal Essence, the Passageways of the Dead and the Cerno Ritual are figments of my imagination.