Resurrection

by Something Evil

Shortly after Buffy gives her life to save that of her sister and the world, the Scooby Gang must find a way to keep going. Set after "The Gift". (Please Review!)

2. Deliver Us From Evil

Part Two: "Deliver Us From Evil"

Xander was pretty sure that the horrified look on both his and Spike's face was the first thing that the two of them had ever really shared. Both men merely sat there by the gravestone, staring at the redhead as though she was out of her mind. Judging by what she had just said, Xander wagered, losing her mind might be a good alibi. Xander gaped, open mouthed, while Spike's brow furrowed. Willow just stood there, waiting for either or both to give any indication that what she had just said registered in their minds. Willow's face was full of hope, and Xander could almost feel her eagerness to win some support for this cause. He had known Willow his entire life, and never once had he seen her with this look on her face. It was a look of grief mixed with something else: desperation. She had worn a similar look when Oz left, but it hadn't been anything like this. Oz leaving had hurt, Xander remembered. He couldn't even begin to imagine how much Buffy's death was hurting her. For a moment, Xander had to rip his eyes from his best friend. He just couldn't bear to look at her anymore. He glanced down at his hands, calloused and hardened by construction work and carpentry. He examined the slight unravel in his jeans just above the knee. Anything but looking at Willow was good, he decided.

"It's a little bit out of your league, don't you think, Red?" It was Spike who finally spoke. Xander glanced up at Willow. Xander didn't really know if Spike was right, and perhaps he didn't want to know.

"Out of my league?" Willow raised an eyebrow. "This is out of the league of any witch or wizard in history. It's never been done. But look what we have to work with...two Wiccans, an ex-Vengeance demon, a mystical Key..."

"Please," Spike said. "I saw you hesitate there. You didn't tell your little girlfriend, did you? Or the Watcher, or the Niblet. I'd wager that me and Xander are the first to know." Spike lit a cigarette, and stared at the witch. "And I'm also willing to bet something like this is dangerous."

"Well, it's not all kittens and blueberry muffins, but it's not that bad," Willow said.

"And what exactly does it entail?" Spike asked her. "Still-beating heart of a virgin, eye of California condor, drinking of poisonous Kool Aid?" Spike chuckled as he stood on wobbly legs. "This is...bloody madness. To think I sat and listened to this when I could be passing out in a perfectly good alleyway...bugger." Spike began stumbling away.

"Tell me you don't miss her," Willow called after him. Spike stopped. "Tell me your every thought doesn't revolve around her. Tell me you don't think about what would have happened if you wouldn't have fallen off that platform. What would have happened if you saved her." Spike blinked a few times, and he didn't want to admit how much Willow's words hurt. He swallowed, wanting to say something, but something wouldn't allow him to turn around. "This is your second chance to save her, Spike."

"Will, you're talking about raising the dead," Xander said from his spot on the ground from which he had not moved. "Something like this would be...huge. I don't even think Giles would want this done. It's dangerous."

"Then we leave him out of it," Willow said defiantly, but not angrily. "We don't need him. The spell is very specific, but I think between me and Tara, we can manage it. It just calls for a few things that we might not have lying around..." By this point, Spike was standing near Willow, listening. Xander was now listening intently as well. "...but I think we can manage, if we get a little help from Anya and the Magic Box. Without Giles knowing it, of course."

"I'm thinking Giles won't be noticing much in the next few weeks," Xander said, not really believing his own words.

Dawn found herself sitting alone on the front porch of her home, feeling oddly out of place but with nowhere else to go. It was one of those times that was less difficult than some of the others, but she knew that the pain would return full force once it occurred to her again that Buffy was really gone. The wounds on her body had begun to heal, but inside, she was still screaming in pain. Tucking her legs beneath her, Dawn remembered how her friend Janic had tried to call her earlier in the day. She'd made Tara lie and say that she was asleep. Willow, Dawn knew, had been working to get the Buffybot back in order, and as soon as this was done, no one would have to know that the Slayer, Buffy Summers, was dead. This made it harder on Dawn: she couldn't talk to anyone about her sister's death outside of the Scooby Gang. Her isister/i. It was a word that made Dawn shudder to think about it. For all intensive purposes, Buffy was her sister. But some part of Dawn now grieved that. If Buffy had just realized that Dawn wasn't really her sister, just a mystical glowing ball of energy, she would still be alive. She would have allowed Dawn to jump, and saved herself.

But that wasn't the type of person Buffy was. Dawn remembered when she was little how she and Buffy used to tease each other. Dawn remembered how they used to fight, but the minute that Dawn would fall and hurt herself, it was Buffy who made it to her well before Hank or Joyce. Of course, Dawn thought bitterly, those weren't real memories at all. Just another fun side effect of being made into a human by some monks trying to save the world from a goddess. But those memories, in spite of everything Dawn knew, were all she had anymore. She remembered Buffy telling her that she was the Slayer. She remembered Buffy running away. She remembered Buffy losing Riley. Buffy, Dawn decided, had done more in a few short years than most people did in a lifetime. She also lived several more years than any Slayer was supposed to, but that was another issue entirely. And now, Dawn missed her sister. She had cried and cried at first, but she now found herself in a sort of shock in which she felt like it was all a dream. She kept telling herself, as she had with her mother's death, that she'd wake up at any moment, and Buffy would be sitting in the kitchen having tea with Giles while going over bills. It was a grim bit of hope that she clung to with all within her that was still able to.

Dawn's thoughts were interrupted when a car pulled up to the Summers driveway. It was a car that Dawn didn't recognize, a dark Jeep of some sort. Dawn stood, a sort of strange panic consuming her. Usually, she'd just run and tell Buffy that someone was there. But now, Buffy was gone. All that was left inside the house was Tara, who was busy cooking some sort of dinner. Fighting back the urge to run inside, Dawn waited. The door opened on the passenger side, and out stepped Faith. Dawn found herself seized with panic again, but it diminished when she saw the look on Faith's face: it was a solemn look, but not an angry one like she usually wore. Dawn watched as a young man climbed out from behind the wheel, and tossed a duffel bag over his shoulder. Faith said something to him, and he shook his head.

Dawn remembered Faith from many of her "memories". She remembered the first time she had met Faith, and how cool she had instantly thought the new Slayer was. Faith had been lively and enjoyed life, and had seemed at the time a lot cooler than Buffy to Dawn. But Dawn remembered soonafter that Faith began to live a bit dangerously, and that eventually someone had gotten hurt. And then, Faith had gone to the side of Mayor Wilkins, and had eventually been put into a coma by Buffy, only to wake up and wreak more havoc later before finally turning herself in to the cops in Los Angeles. And now, here she was, free. Faith saw Dawn, and for a moment there was a glimmer of something strange in her eye. Dawn realized that Angel must have told Faith everything, about the key and everything else, and she was just now registering that Dawn wasn't "real". Faith approached slowly, stranger following close behind her.

She looked upon Dawn with a look of discomfort, and she glanced down at her feet for a moment before speaking: "Uh, hey, Dawn." Dawn stared at her, unsure of what to say to this.

"Are you evil?" Faith glanced up, surprised at Dawn's words. " 'Cuz, I mean, you tried to kill my sister and all on various occasions. So, are you evil?"

Before Faith could speak, David spoke up: "I hardly think she'd be here to help if she were evil."

Dawn looked at David with a weary eye, and realized that this young man obviously didn't have a clue of what Faith was capable of. She turned to him: "And what are you supposed to be, Mini Giles?" And without a word, Dawn turned and went inside the house, leaving Faith and David standing on the lawn, perplexed for a moment.

"So was that an invitation inside, or a 'shove it up your ass'?" Faith wondered aloud. "Girl's gotten a 'tude since the last time I..." Faith paused, realizing how weird this whole thing was turning out so far. "...saw her." She finished. Without another word, she walked slowly and lazily into the Summers house as well. David followed after a moment of his own thoughts.

Xander and Willow said nothing as they walked up Revello Drive toward the Summers home. They hadn't spoken a word since they left Spike standing in the graveyard, obviously deep in thought about what had been said. Xander wasn't fond of the plan, but he was desperate: he wanted Buffy back. Life wasn't turning out to be much fun without her, and it had only been a few days since she had died. Still, there was a lot of trickery involved in this plan, and it was this that Xander didn't like. Giles wasn't to be involved at all, and neither was Dawn. Tara would have to be convinced, and Anya would do whatever Xander asked. Spike was in, and Xander knew that as far as getting the tricky parts they needed was concerned, Willow was already halfway done. There were two more things she needed, both of which made up the last half of her potion. And that would be considerably harder, Xander knew. They walked up the driveway in silence, both noticing that there was a new and unfamiliar car in the driveway along with that of Giles, which was parked behind it. Climbing the steps to the front door, Willow stopped.

"Remember...not a word," she told him. "I'll talk to Tara, and you can tell Anya. But not now, and not here." Without giving Xander a chance to reply, Willow opened the door and stepped inside.

Inside, all seated in the living room, was a group of extremely uncomfortable looking people. The tension in the room was so strong that it could be cut with a knife. Tara was sitting on the couch with Anya, and both girls were looking anywhere but at the others. So mainly, the two were sitting and admiring the coffee table and each other's shoes. Dawn was standing near the fireplace, her arms crossed, glaring daggers at Faith, who was sitting in a chair not far from the fireplace itself. Seated alongside her was Giles. Hovering somewhere behind Giles was a young man that Willow and Xander had never seen before. The entire group was silent, and Giles was at the moment massaging his forehead with his hands while Faith glanced around uncomfortably.

"Hey, guys, what's with the crazy whirligig of fun? Don't leave us out!" Xander said awkwardly, laughing rather elaborately for a short time. Anya glanced at him with an expression of boredom, and Xander glanced away. "Giles? What's the what here?"

"It's quite simple," Giles said softly. "Faith is the Slayer. Angel thought it best that she come to Sunnydale, and aid us in our work. All of our work is, of course, unofficial, thanks to the fact that the Council tried to have Faith killed." Faith nodded in silent agreement. Giles removed his glasses, and began cleaning them. "I don't expect that this attempt will be their last. The Council will try their best to do away with her. And anyone who gets in their way."

"Oh, so we're all in danger for harboring a rogue Slayer. That's a relief. Say, maybe tomorrow we can slit our wrists and dangle them in front of Spike on the off chance that his chip malfunctions! And then, just for an edge, we can stick our heads in a gas oven," Anya said, speaking up. She glanced at Giles as she said this. "Now I don't know what exactly she's done, or who she's done..." Xander could feel Faith's eyes on him as she listened to Anya's tirade, and he didn't much like it. "...but it's obviously not safe for us now."

"Bluntness, thy name is Anya," Xander murmured. "I'm not exactly for harboring a vicious killer..."

"Hey! Sitting right here!" Faith spoke up. She knew she deserved every last thing that any of these people had to say about her. Hell, even Tara had reason to hate her, thanks to Faith's adventures in Buffy's body. But all of this was making Faith a bit angry. Though she no longer felt homicidal, she still got angry a bit too easily. And Anya's comments, no matter how numerous, cut her deeply. The others all turned their attention to Faith, who sat up in her chair. "I know I've...not exactly been a pal in the past."

"Especially when you threatened to kill me, and would've, had the giant crazy snake Mayor hadn't interrupted," Willow pointed out.

"Or when you tried to strangle me," Xander tossed out offhandedly.

"Or when you were going to kill my mother," Dawn sneered.

"Or when you said that Xander only lasts seven minutes during sex!" Anya piped up. Xander felt whatever manliness he had beginning to diminish. He was waiting for Faith to make a comment about this that would definitely cause problems between himself and Anya, but to his surprise, Faith sat back in her chair, taking this all in cool, calm stride.

"All right, all right!" The young man that no one in the room seemed familiar with spoke up now. He glanced around the room at the group of young faces, and he noticed that the youngest one, Buffy Summers's sister, was now rolling her eyes. "Obviously, you all have a history of run-ins with Faith. Who doesn't?"

"Oh, good. For a minute there I thought some defense was coming. You're really getting good at this verbal abuse thing, D. How long you think you can keep it up?" Faith snapped, glancing back at the young man. She was losing her patience, and it wasn't a single member of the Scoobies that was trying her.

"I'm sure you'd like to find out," David retorted.

"You wish," Faith said, standing. "Look...I'm only here because that's where Angel wants me. Angel says jump, I say 'How high?'. I owe him that. But what I don't owe him is being talked to like a dog by some guy that I've never met before in my life!" Faith glanced around the room. "Every single one of you have a reason to hate me." She turned back to the the young Watcher. "And for someone who was so eager to save my ass twenty-four hours ago, you sure are quick to run your mouth now."

"Saving you doesn't mean I like you, love." David turned to Giles. "Mr. Giles...I was made to understand that you have several volumes of text that are of interest to me?"

"Yes, on the table in the kitchen," Giles told him. "Just out that door, down the hall." Without another word, David was gone. Faith was looking almost murderous now, and she could feel that old rage seizing her slowly. In the old days, she would've cut this Cromwell guy open from end to end, and not given it a second thought. But now, she knew that it was out of the question. Because above all else, she couldn't let Angel down. Not like this, and not right now. Not when he needed a Slayer he could rely on to take care of what Buffy had left behind. Thinking of Buffy once again, this time in the presence of those that loved her, Faith felt her anger fading, and she slid back down into her chair. She glanced around to realize that the rest of the Scoobies were now staring at her.

"Guy just bugs me," Faith muttered.

"It's like Giles took some drugs, and then started doing scenes from Monty Python," Dawn said. It was her turn to be stared at by the group. Faith hid a smile, but just barely. She almost wished she'd come up with that one, but she was sure she'd use it later. The ride from LA had been a long one. Not a word had been said the entire time between Slayer and Watcher, and more than once Faith had fought back the urge to punch his lights out, dump him on the side of the road, and take his car anywhere she wanted. But something within her once again stopped her. Faith had officially adopted a now motto, one that pretty much helped, she found: "What Would Buffy Do?" So far, it had kept her from beating a guy senseless and stealing his car.

"Um, well." Giles pushed his glasses up on his nose as he spoke. "Like it or not, Sunnydale is Faith's home. She is to remain, as is the, ah, New Watcher." Faith rolled her eyes, but said nothing. "Faith, you will stay here. You will not leave this house unless it is to patrol, and even then you must be accompanied by one of us." Faith glanced at Giles, and didn't say anything as he gave his orders. "You will work out sleeping and eating arrangements with Willow and Tara."

"Mmkay. And what about my new best buddy?" Faith asked, nodding toward the kitchen.

"He's made prior arrangements, I understand," Giles told her.

"Darn. I was really hoping he'd sleep here. He looks like he could use a good roll in the sack," Faith said, smiling softly to herself. The others in the room stared at her, perplexed. "Kidding! We all know I'd kill him in his sleep if I had the chance." This didn't draw any smiles either. "Okay, so maybe I'm not funny." Faith stood, shrugging. "Where do I sleep?"

"So! Anya...there's that thing at home. That thing that we were working on. The...jigsaw puzzle. With lots of pieces. We should get going, get to work on that," Xander said. He knew it was lame and a pathetic excuse not to be around anymore, but he didn't want to be here anymore. It creeped him out having a Slayer around again, and more, Willow's plan was still fresh in his mind. Anya stood, and Xander could tell she had been looking for an excuse to leave.

"That means we're going to have sex," Anya told the group. And without another word, she and Xander were gone. Giles leaned back in his chair for a moment, and finally stood. Without a word to the women of the house that remained, he wandered into the kitchen to pour himself some tea. Faith looked uncomfortably at Willow and Tara, who were now sliding down onto the couch. Dawn was now moving from her spot in the corner to the chair where Giles had been sitting.

"Is someone gonna tell me where I can sleep, or do I have to sleep in the chair?" Faith asked finally. Willow and Tara exchanged a glance.

The door to Buffy's room was closed. Faith stopped outside of it for a moment, and frowned. She didn't like this. Not at all. Standing there like this, she remembered the last time she had been in Buffy's bedroom. She had been in Buffy's body, she recalled, having the time of her life. But now, Buffy was gone, and the one enemy she had never truly defeated was about to sleep in her bed. Faith hesitated as she touched the doorknob, and finally found the courage to open it. She wasn't sure what she was expecting to be different, but whatever it was, it was not there. The bedroom was much the same. Weapons trunk, posters of Los Angeles, dresser with makeup and jewelry, all there. The blinds were drawn shut, and the room was lit only by moonlight for a few short moments, casting an eerie glow over the entire room. Faith shivered, and flipped the lightswitch as she entered the room. Duffel bag in hand, she slid down onto the edge of the bed, and glanced around. There was a picture of Buffy, Willow, and Xander on her nightstand, one obviously taken at the beach. All were smiling, all were happy. Chilled, Faith reached over to turn the picture down, but drew her hand back after a few seconds. This was Buffy's room...not hers. Sighing, Faith went to change her clothes for bed.

Giles tried his best to ignore the whispering of Willow and Tara from the living room now. Dawn had retired to bed a short while ago as well, and it had been nearly an hour since Faith had gone to bed. Giles stirred his tea thoughtfully as he slid down at the kitchen island, eyeing the young Watcher that sat across from him silently.

"So it's you, then," Giles said softly after a few moments, cocking his head slightly to the side, for the moment an old bloodhound picking up a vaguely familiar scent. "I mean, it's really you."

"Really," David said, glancing back down at the book in front of him. "That's what the Council said when I got to Faith first, I suppose. One step ahead this time."

"How have you been?" Giles asked.

"Some days are more difficult than others." David glanced up, closing his book. "The girl...Faith...she still needs some work. She has a problem with authority, doesn't she?"

"To the contrary. She just seems to have a problem with you." Giles managed a weak smile, but barely. David chuckled softly. "Honestly, you might try showing her some tolerance. You don't know that it was her fault."

"No," David said thoughtfully, "I don't."

Tara climbed the stairs to the bedroom that she and Willow shared silently, not looking back over her shoulder at her red-haired lover that still sat in the living room. Fleeing from a conversation with Willow wasn't something Tara did often, but now she felt that it was absolutely necessary. The first warning sign should have been Willow feeling the need to whisper because Giles was present. And then, without hesitation, Willow revealed her plan. Tara had sat there, listening patiently and quietly, and hadn't batted an eye at Willow's words in spite of the inner shock that she was feeling. What Willow was talking about wasn't just bringing someone back from the dead: it was toying with magick older and more deadly than anything either of them had ever encountered. Tara had learned long ago that any ritual involving blood wasn't a good thing, and this one seemed to require more than its fair share. And then, as quickly as the discussion ended, the argument began.

Tara still wasn't sure whose fault it was, and she didn't really care. Willow had asked her what she thought, and Tara had looked at her and merely said, "I think you could get someone hurt." And that was all Tara remembered before she and Willow were quietly bickering back and forth. Closing the door to the bedroom that they shared, Tara slid down onto the edge of the bed. Willow had told her that they needed Buffy back; Tara pointed out that Faith was there, and seemed to be a bit more reliable than her former self. Willow said that Buffy would want them to do it; Tara told her that they couldn't really know what Buffy wanted. Willow said that it was for the best; Tara argued that it wasn't up to her to decide what was best. And so it had ended with Tara leaving the conversation. When she and Willow argued (which was rare), it made her almost physically ill. What made her feel even worse was the topic of the fight itself.

Laying back across the bed, Tara's mind was full of thoughts. Most of them were frightening, as she knew that Willow would fight tooth and nail to go through with this. Tara came to understand that Xander and Spike were also aware of and supporting the plan, an idea that she didn't like. What unnerved her most, though, was Willow's desire to keep this plan a secret from Giles and Dawn. In Tara's mind, if Willow was going to hide something, then she knew that something was blatantly wrong with what they were doing.

"Tara?" Willow's voice came from outside the door, and Tara said nothing. She didn't even move to sit up. A moment later, the door opened, and Willow stepped inside. Her expression was grave. Tara said nothing as Willow slid down onto the edge of the bed. "You're right. It's not my place to decide what's right, or what Buffy would have wanted. And we do have a Slayer here." Tara glanced at Willow, but still said nothing. "But I want her back."

"We all do," Tara said softly. "We all miss her, Willow. But that doesn't mean that it's right to toy with things like this. You're talking about breaking mystical laws that have existed longer than humanity. Do you think you have that kind of power?"

"I don't know," Willow admitted. "But I think I can make it work."

"You're really going to go through with this, aren't you." Tara's words were more of an observation than a question, an observation that was causing her great pain for the moment. She didn't want any part of this...she didn't want to know what Willow was going to do.

"I am," Willow said finally, nodding her head.

Tara fought back sniffles of both pain and anger now. As much as she loved Willow, she hated this. Willow could get hurt, and hurt everyone else involved as well. And more importantly, there was no guarantee that the spell would work. Tara fought back tears of anger as she said quietly, "Then you'll do it without me." And without another word about the matter, Tara climbed to her feet and went to get ready for bed. Willow sat there for a long while, her thoughts much louder than the sound of Tara's shower. She wasn't fond of Tara not being there with her to help her. But at the same time, she knew that it probably would be up to her in the end to resurrect the fallen Slayer.

iA bright light flashed in the distance, and thunder crackled threateningly over head. Buffy trembled as she stood in the middle of the street that she knew as her home, and closed her arms protectively around herself. Her clothing was thin, looking much like a hospital gown, and it gave her little shelter from the cold that engulfed her. The trees lining the usually friendly-looking street were bare, their rake-like fingers seeming to reach up toward the tumultuous, darkened sky. Thunder rumbled again over head, and Buffy whimpered softly as she surveyed the barren and deserted street. A few cold raindrops fell to the ground around her, and Buffy glanced down slowly to survey her bare and bloody feet against the cold, wet pavement. For what felt like days there had been the painful tearing of the thorns that ripped open her flesh and made her bleed...her feet bore these wounds, thousands of tiny pinpricks accented by thousands of matching tiny blood trails. Her legs were dirty, and accented by several deep gashes that pained her to the bone as she walked. Her arms bore dozens of shallow cuts which itched and burned often. Her hair was matted and gnarled, and her face was bruised. Each inch of her skin pained her, each muscle exhausted.

She had been fighting a non-stop battle for three days now.

Demons of every kind would come at her. Sometimes, they came in some sort of disguise. On the first day the demon had been the Master, and Buffy had realized this instantly and managed to dispatch him. Later, as she wandered aimlessly through the neverending maze of thorns and blazing heat, Willow had come to her. As Buffy went to her friend, Willow had moved to strangle her friend. Buffy had dispatched her as well. The demons had then come to her as Giles, and on the previous day, as Buffy had wondered sobbing through a sandy and freezing terrain, one had come to her as Angel. For the second time in her life, Buffy had found herself killing her lover.

And now, she was here, on Revello Drive. Her home. Yet she felt no comfort, instead engulfed in a mind-numbing sort of fear that she couldn't accurately comprehend. Her mind was a jumble of thoughts, having seen such horrors in the previous days, that only one thing had she been able to discern: this was Hell. Trembling and weak, a ferocious hunger gnawing away at her insides, Buffy took a painful step forward. Her feet shook violently as she moved, and she groaned as she forced herself to continue onward. Her house was in plain sight now, and she felt a moment of relief at the sight of it. She willed herself forward slowly, and she stumbled but did not fall as she limped desperately toward her home.

The grass of the lawn soothed Buffy as she slid down to her knees on the ground. She felt her legs buckle beneath her, and she allowed herself to fall against the soft and reassuring grass. Her bleeding and sore feet were for the moment soothed: for the first time in three days, she was completely alone and able to rest. She stayed like this for what felt like forever, and eventually she forced herself to scramble back to her feet. She could see lights on inside the Summers home, and as this occurred to her, a hopeful feeling rose from within her. She lumbered painfully up the front steps and onto the porch, and she found herself forcing the door open quickly. When she stepped inside, she rushed for the living room.

Joyce Summers lay on the couch, her eyes wide and cold with the serenity of death inherent in her eyes. Buffy gasped a shocked breath of air as she beheld her mother staring up at the ceiling dead, much as she had been when Buffy found her those few short months ago. Buffy took a step back from her mother after a moment, and forced herself to look away. Tears were stinging at her eyes.

"Buffy!" Buffy whirled as she heard Dawn's cry from upstairs. With a renewed determination, Buffy struggled to pull herself up the stairs toward the sound of her sister's voice. Buffy stopped as she made it to the top of the stairs, for she was barely able to behold the sight which greeted her there. Dawn lay crumpled on the floor against the wall, a bloody mess surrounding her. Her body was riddled with holes, tiny but each bleeding in a way similar to Buffy's feet. Dawn's eyes were open and staring straight ahead, and Buffy stifled a scream as she slid down against the opposite wall, mouth covered with a single trembling hand. Tears flooded over as she surveyed her sister, now no more than a body lying on the floor. Buffy buried her face in her hands and sobbed, but only for a moment, because movement then caught the Slayer's attention. Down the hall in her own bedroom, someone was moving. Sniffling and defeated, Buffy carefully avoided Dawn's body as she moved down the hall toward her bedroom. Buffy stopped as she made her way into her room as something hard blocked her way. Glancing down, Buffy cried out again as she surveyed what had once been Faith lying in the doorway, one bloody and raw mass which had once been her hand extended out of the door and into the hall. Her fingers seemed to claw at the carpet, and Buffy realized suddenly that Faith had been dragging herself from the room. There were bloody slide-marks beginning near her bed and going to the door. Suddenly, Buffy understood: Faith had been trying to get to Dawn.

Forcing herself to look away from what remained of Faith, Buffy slid into her room. Willow and Xander were neatly laid out across Buffy's bed, hands bound, throats slit. Xander's eyes were gouged out, and Willow had a still fresh teardrop on her cheek. Buffy backed slowly away, going numb. Her body was trembling frantically, and a hysterical sob was threatening at the back of her throat.

"You don't belong here," a soft voice said as Buffy fled back down the stairs. The voice seemed to come from somewhere above her, and as Buffy reached the kitchen, she found Tara standing in the doorway, her face full of sadness. "You shouldn't be here," Tara said quietly. "But she isn't going to listen to me, and now she's going to bring you out. And this is what will happen," Tara said, nodding to Giles, who lay with a broken neck across the floor. Anya was lying near him, a horrid gash ripped across her throat. "She'll take the chance so that you might live. And then she'll have killed us all."

"But you're not in my dream," Buffy muttered quietly, eyeing Tara.

"I was borrowed," Tara whispered. Buffy ran from the house, and broke down sobbing on the lawn./i

Faith was startled from sleep by a strange sensation overtaking her body. Groaning softly, she bolted upright. Sunlight streamed in through the windows of the Summers household. Putting one hand gently to her face, Faith felt moisture there. After a moment, she understood. She had been crying in her sleep. Quickly wiping the rogue tears away, Faith glanced around. Buffy's room was much as it had been the previous night, only it seemed different in the daylight somehow. Pushing it from her mind, Faith went to take a shower.

Wrapping a towel around herself, Faith glanced in the slightly fogged mirror of Buffy's bathroom. She had been here before, only last time she had been in Buffy's body, she dimly recalled. But then, she remembered suddenly that Buffy's body was currently somewhere in the ground rotting. It was a crude and terrible thought, but one that struck her without much realization. Buffy was gone. This was her job now. Yet something bothered face about this scenario, which left her sleeping in Buffy's bed, using her bathroom, and spending time amongst her family and friends. Faith shivered suddenly as she glanced in the mirror. Her skin was pale, and her hair hung in wet, dark tendrils around her face. Yet she looked like the same old Faith, the Faith she had always seen when she looked in the mirror. iYou can trust me, Faith/i. Buffy's words suddenly echoed in her mind. She had almost reached out to Buffy that day, had almost let it all out. She would told Buffy everything had that tiny voice in the back of her mind not stopped. Faith couldn't help but wonder sometimes what would have happened had she put her trust in Buffy rather than in herself. After all, it seemed to have worked for everyone else around the other Slayer, so why not? In the end, Faith knew that she probably would have found another way to screw things up, and she probably would have gone to jail all the same.

And now, she was deeply troubled. Not once in her entire twenty years had she ever awakened from sleep crying. What was more troubling was that in spite of her tears, she had no recollection of what she had been dreaming about. Shaking this from her mind, Faith turned and walked back into the bedroom to get dressed.

Xander sat silently alone at the kitchen table at what had once been Buffy's home. What had happened three days ago felt like it had happened three years ago, but the grief and pain were still fresh in Xander's mind. He sat oddly still, the dull aching in his heart panging every time the organ beat. Anya had opted to stay at home today, as she was strangely distant after Xander had told her what Willow was proposing. He had told her on the ride home, and she had been silent the entire time. She had been silent long after that, and had fallen asleep not in Xander's arms, but turned away from him as he lay on his back, staring at the ceiling and feeling absolutely miserable. Buffy's house felt oddly different now, almost alien, without Buffy. Xander sighed softly. Five years ago he had befriended Buffy Summers, and he had instantly been completely and totally in love with her. For nearly three years he had pursued her, and each subtle advance had been greeted with defeat. Always because Buffy was with someone else. Xander didn't feel that same contempt for Angel now, because he could imagine what the vampire was now going through. Xander sometimes wondered if somewhere deep down he still loved Buffy, and each time he found himself more confused than when he began. He hadn't considered this since Riley left. It pained him, but Xander had let her go: he had sent her to chase after Riley. But still, Xander had Anya. Anya, whom he had proposed to only three days ago. Forgotten now was all of this, for Anya had said not a word about it. Xander supposed she was wondering how long was proper enough to wait before asking him about it. He hoped it would be a while. But he did love her; marriage just seemed like an awful topic in times such as these.

Xander marveled now at how many times he had been to Buffy's house. It all felt different now that she was gone. Many nights had been spent here in high school, with Willow, Buffy, and Xander all lying across Buffy's bed watching television because they had no money to go to the Bronze. Joyce had always brought them food, and had regarded the three of them with an affectionate eye roll or a head shake. They had been inseparable then, when Willow was still shy and mousy, Buffy was still pining for Angel, and Xander was still pining for Buffy while necking in a closet with Cordelia Chase. Sometimes, as he surveyed what was happening around him, he missed those days.

As he had stood in the Magic Box listening to Giles and Buffy argue about Dawn's fate at the hands of Glory, he had been wishing for times of fish monsters on the swim team and egg demons taking over the student body. As he had met Buffy at the hospital the day Joyce died, he had been wishing for prom night, where Buffy had been honored by her classmates as Class Protector. As he surveyed Buffy's broken body lying on the ground as Spike wept bitterly behind him, he had wished for anything other than that: graduation with the giant snake mayor, the incident with the band candy, Buffy reading people's minds, ianything/i but death. Buffy had always saved the day, and now, it had cost her everything.

"Bad time?" Faith entered the kitchen looking uncomfortable. Xander noted with a bit of sad amusement that Faith was obviously borrowing clothes from Cordelia, as she was wearing a blue tank top with a baby chick in its center. Faith looked much improved from the last time Xander had seen her: she now wore a bit of makeup, and no longer had the tired and weary look that she had worn previously. But still, she seemed different somehow.

"There's a good time?" Xander asked. "Where do I sign up for that?"

"Tell me about it," Faith muttered, sliding down at the table across from Xander.

"I don't think I realized until now how much this group centered around Buffy." Xander's voice was hushed and sad. Faith glanced at him. "She held us all together, even when things were down. I'd forgotten how much she did that." Faith looked down at her hands, not saying anything but knowing what Xander said was true. Buffy had been the glue of the Scooby Gang, the core. And now, the center wouldn't hold without her.

"What happens now? Things fall apart?" Faith wondered aloud. "I can't...I'm not Buffy. I can walk the walk and talk the talk, and Angel seems to think this is where I need to be. But I can't do the things that she did. I can't be that person that she was."

Xander and Faith shared a comfortable yet sad silence now, obviously both deep in thought about what had been said. Faith yawned and rested arms and head against the table. Xander could only sit and drown himself in deep thoughts once again.

It was a chilly night as Faith wondered through the graveyard in silence, albeit alongside her new "Watcher". Faith shoved her hands into her pockets as they walked, both aware of the uncomfortable silence between them. It hadn't been dark long, and at the Summers residence Tara was making her, as Xander called it, "now famous call to the pizza place". It was more tragic than funny because, as Giles had pointed out, no one felt much like cooking anymore. He had stopped by early in the day to check up on everyone, yet he had been short on words. Xander had sworn that he detected a hint of alcohol on the old Watcher's breath, but he had said nothing of it. He had left rather quickly, leaving Willow to sit in her bedroom pouring over spellbooks while Tara tidied up the house with Xander's help, and Dawn to make pancakes while Faith sat in the kitchen watching silently.

Faith, if nothing else, was glad to be free of the confines of the house. She felt incredibly out of place amongst Buffy's friends. It wasn't so much how they acted toward her...no, some of them were almost friendly. But what bothered her was the look of grief stretched across every single face, and she realized that seeing her was just a reminder that Buffy was gone. So when her obnoxiously chipper new Watcher had shown up near dusk and ordered her to patrol with him, she had done just that. If anything, she figured, she could let a vampire wail on him for a while and then claim that she had been busy with another. It was a mean thought, but one that kept her entertained. For nearly an hour they had been walking the streets of Sunnydale, and now they were trouncing through the graveyard. They had yet to see a single vampire.

"For a town situated above a Hellmouth, it's awfully quiet tonight," Cromwell commented after a long while. Faith glanced at him, not sure of how to respond.

"Yeah, well, funny thing about vampires," Faith said in a not unkind way, "they tend to run when they see someone walking around carrying stakes and crossbows." The silence resumed, and they continued to walk. They were almost to the center of the cemetery when Faith sensed it...a vampire, and one that had been following them for quite some time. She paused suddenly, and Cromwell halted as well. "We're being followed," she said softly, and the Watcher's stance straightened. Faith turned slowly to see a shady figure moving to crouch behind a tombstone in the distance. Sighing, she turned back around and found herself staring into the face of a grinning and snarling vampire. She cursed aloud as the vampire swung at her, and she stumbled back. Dealing a sharp punch to the creature's head, she spun and kicked it to the ground quickly, producing a stake as she dropped to one knee and plunged the stake into the vampire's heart. He exploded with a scream, and tiny flecks of dust sprinkled to the ground. Faith stood smoothly, and pushed a piece of her hair back from her face.

"Impressive," the Watcher said, and Faith detected for the first time a slight touch of approval in his voice. But more than that, she was reeling. She hadn't killed a vampire in years, and she had long forgotten that once beloved rush of adrenaline that she got every time she plunged that stake down. The sudden spot of violence excited her, and for the first time since arriving in Sunnydale, she felt a bit of strange relief.

"Where'd our other guy go?" Faith wondered, scanning the trees for the vampire that had been following them. Suddenly, he caught her eye as he desperately scampered toward a nearby crypt. Faith, without warning, bolted for him, leaving her Watcher standing over the new pile of dust, baffled. After a moment, he took off after Faith.

Faith found the vampire just past the crypt, kneeling in front of a fresh grave shaded by many trees, hidden from plain view. Silently she crept forward, her footsteps making no sounds against the cool, hard earth. Slightly out of breath, she moved forward, stake in hand, preparing to kill the vampire. She raised the stake silently, and prepared to bring it down into the vampire's back. In a flash, the vampire spun and launched itself at her, growling ferociously as it tackled the Slayer to the ground. Faith grunted as she hit the ground hard, vampire trying desperately to pin her arm as she struggled beneath it. Dealing the vampire a nasty headbutt, she flung him off of her, and threw herself to her feet. Her mind and heart were racing, and the vampire struggled to his feet, regarding her. The vampire charged at her again, only this time found himself being assaulted by a fury of fists and feet, punching and kicking so quickly that he could barely comprehend it all. Spinning and picking her stake up from the ground, Faith hurled it at the vampire, and panted as he exploded into dust.

"Man," she muttered, rubbing her back in an irritated way. "That guy had some spunk." Her Watcher now emerged from the other side of the crypt, and he said nothing. His eyes were focused on something else entirely, and Faith turned to see what he was staring so intently at. She gasped and took a step back as she understood. Directly behind her, where the vampire had been kneeling, was the a grave marked, "Buffy Summers, 1981-2001. Beloved sister, devoted friend. She saved the world alot." Faith stood there silently for a moment. "Oh," she muttered quietly. The earth of the grave was still freshly upturned, and smelled sickly sweet, as moist dirt often tends to. Lying on top of the grave was a single flower. Faith stood there for a long while, staring at the name on the headstone, and she found herself unable to move.

"Looks like our vampire left something behind," Cromwell said softly, picking up a shovel from nearby. Faith turned to him and realized what he meant.

"You mean he was going to..." Her voice trailed off, and the Watcher nodded silently. "But why?"

"I don't know," he told her.

Suddenly, a strange faintness came over Faith, and she closed her eyes momentarily. She found the world spinning beneath her, and she groaned softly as her vision grew fuzzy. Her head was pounding painfully, and she stumbled and sank to her knees suddenly. From what seemed like far away she heard Cromwell ask if she was all right, but she found herself unable to answer. The last thing she heard before she blacked out entirely was the sound of an owl hooting somewhere in the cemetery.

iFaith found herself standing in the library of Sunnydale High School, which for the moment was darkened almost entirely. Overcome with a sudden sense of cold, Faith shivered and pulled her jacket more tightly around her. Hearing distant voices, she walked from the library's doors and further inside, and as she moved in, she could see Buffy, Giles, and Angel standing there together. Buffy stood nearest to the doors, Giles standing close to his office. Angel was hovering a few feet away from Buffy. Buffy looked somewhat younger here than Faith knew her, and she appeared to be crying and extremely upset.

"Giles, I'm sixteen years old," Buffy said quietly, her voice broken with sobs, "I don't want to die." And without another word, Buffy ran from the library. Faith fan after her.

"Buffy! Buffy!" Faith called out after the girl. Buffy ran from the school before Faith could catch her.

"She can't hear you," a voice said softly. Faith turned to find herself staring at an older Buffy, more like the one Faith had come to know. Her hair was long and curly, absolutely beautiful. Her face had a glow to it, and her skin was healthy and rosey. Faith understood without words that this was how Buffy had looked when she died. Buffy came to the other Slayer's side quietly and with a fluid motion, and her face was sad. "It's strange. When I was called, I was told by my first Watcher that Slayers die young. But that day in Giles' office, that was the first time I really tasted death. That was the first time I understood what being a Slayer really meant. The First Slayer told me that death was my gift. But it's not a gift, because I understand it now. Death is my curse." Faith stared at Buffy. "But you know that, don't you."

"Am I dead?" Faith asked.

"Hardly." Buffy smiled softly. "At least one of us is living. But see, things are going to change soon."

Faith felt dizzy again suddenly, and she found herself standing in the old mansion where Angel had taken up residence. Buffy stood alongside her, arms folded, calm. She was glancing toward the mansion's fireplace, in front of which Faith saw a large stone sarcophagus, in front of which a small, golden vortex was beginning to swirl. Standing in front of the sarcophagus was Angel, who was now looking around as though he were a lost child. Buffy stood facing him, and Faith could tell that she was baffled and frightened. Once again Buffy was younger, and she had a strangely childlike quality to her that Faith had never really known.

"Close your eyes," Faith heard Younger Buffy whisper to Angel. And without warning, as Angel closed his eyes, Buffy thrust the sword that she held in her hand into Angel's stomach, and Angel cried out suddenly. Sobbing, Younger Buffy backed away, and Angel said her name softly.

"As I got older it made more sense," Older Buffy said as she watched her younger self stand there crying. "I understood my curse. I couldn't stop Angel from killing Ms. Calendar...it took her death to make me see what I had to do. And then, I killed him. I killed him and sent him to Hell. I killed the man I loved, because I wanted to save the world that had forced me to be its protector."

In a flash, Faith found herself standing alongside Older Buffy in the living room of the Summers household. Older Buffy was calmly watching as another version of herself yelled to Giles, "We're not supposed to move the body!" Faith noticed with horror that Joyce Summers was lying in a body bag on the floor of the living room, pale and lifeless, utterly and completely dead. Faith and Older Buffy watched as the other Buffy flung herself into Giles' arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Giles could only hold the girl, astonished.

"When my mother died, I finally understood," Older Buffy said, turning to Faith, who was still watching numbly. "Life is taken indiscriminately. One day, that higher power wakes up feeling bored, and has to completely and utterly rip apart some unsuspecting person's life. Someone who deserves more. I did nothing but protect the world for years, and then I come home to find my mother dead on the couch. Because no matter what you do, that's how it ends. Death. You understand that. You killed a man. And deep down, it pleased a part of you. It made you feel...raw. Powerful. Primal. Absolute power was in your hands. For a few seconds, you tasted the glory of the gods. That's what being a Slayer is all about...we pride ourselves in death and destruction. Absolute."

Faith blinked, and suddenly found herself standing high above the earth on a tower, the cold night winds whirling about her. Buffy stood alone on the edge of the tower's platform, her hair whipping around her face as she stood looking down at the ground far below her. The platform was wavering slightly with the wind, and Faith found herself going numb. Buffy stood there for a long while, unable to say anything. Faith saw that she appeared to be hypnotized by the ground that seemed so far away from her.

"And then I'm told that death is my gift," Buffy said finally, her voice calm and frightened. "I knew what I had to do to save my sister. Because I didn't do it for the world. When my mother died, I understood how unfair the world is. I no longer cared. Dawn became all that mattered, and if the world ended, it didn't matter. I just didn't want my sister to die. So I jumped, and I died. I died for her. My friends probably think I died for the world." Buffy laughed. "It was more selfish than that." Buffy laughed again. "But now I'm paying for it. All of it." Buffy held up her hands, revealing a gash in each palm, deep and bloody. In a matter of seconds, her hair became tattered and bloody, and her clothes were ripped, muddy, and splotched with blood. Her skin bruised, and tiny cuts appeared all over her body. In a matter of moments, she transformed entirely. "You have to help me, Faith. Please."

And without another word, Buffy turned, and neatly dove off the top of the tower. Faith screamed, and shot forward, and jumped after Buffy, who was already sailing down toward the ground. The cold wind sting Faith's eyes, flinging her about as she plummetered toward the ground./i

Lying unconscious in Buffy's bed, Faith woke with a scream that ripped through the house. Without warning she bolted upright, and and gasped for air, suddenly unable to beat back the feeling that she was being suffocated. She was covered in sweat, and her mind was still full of fear and terror at what she had just seen. The look in Buffy's eyes...so gaunt and hopeless, so angry and cold...it was all fresh and terrifying. Only now did she notice Willow sitting quietly alongside the bed, at a safe distance far away from where Faith lay. Willow was silent and watched the Slayer closely as Faith surveyed the room around her. She could hear the sound of thunder in the distance, and downstairs she could hear voices as well. After a moment Faith heard someone coming up the stairs, and was relieved to see Giles climbing the stairs silently, Cromwell in tow. Both men appeared grave. Faith, in clothes now dirty from her patrolling effort, was horribly at a loss.

"What's going on?" she asked Willow quietly.

"We don't really know. The new Watcher guy says you freaked out on patrol after you staked a vampire. He says you took one look at Buffy's grave and lost it," Willow said. Her big eyes were sad at the mention of her best friend's grave. Faith turned her attention to Giles and Cromwell, who were now entering the room. Giles removed his glasses, and cleaned them in silence.

"You were talking in your sleep," Giles said quietly to the Slayer. Faith said nothing to this, for she couldn't get Buffy's haunted face out of her mind. He examined Faith as she sat there, searching her face for some clue as to what had happened. "What did you see, Faith?"

Faith paused for a few moments to look around the room. Finally, she spoke: "I don't remember." Her voice wavered as she spoke, and Giles looked down at the floor. "What was I saying, Giles?" Giles didn't answer. Instead, he left the room hastily, followed quickly by Willow. Faith was left alone with her new Watcher, who was staring gravely at her with a look that she had never seen before. "What's going on? Everyone's being all...weird."

"You spoke to Willow." Cromwell walked over and slid down in the chair that Willow had now abandoned. "You spoke to her as though you were Buffy Summers." Faith could only stare at him. "You possessed knowledge of Buffy that you could not. You spoke to Willow of things that you have no knowledge." Cromwell took another pause. "You...she...begged for help."

"Can I tell you something?" Faith said suddenly, abruptly. Her Watcher stared at her, and nodded finally. "I saw her. She told me...that she was angry. That death was her...gift. And she begged for my help." Faith trembled suddenly. "I think she's in Hell."

It was well after midnight when Spike showed up at the Summers residence. Even after much thought, he was still uneasy about Willow's plan. It hadn't seemed too safe when she had first told him about it, and now he trusted this idea even less. But at the same time was alive within him a hope that he could see Buffy again. He wanted her alive, he wanted her with him. And he knew that Willow could pull it off. Which was why, he supposed, that he had gone to the cemetery earlier in the night, just to sit and talk to Buffy. He knew it was ridiculous, and that she probably couldn't hear him, but it was something he needed to do. Also, Willow had asked him to stop and take a bit of dirt from Buffy's grave, something that to Spike seemed horribly out of place. But all the same he knew that Willow needed it for some reason, and he was happy to oblige. When he entered the house, the lights were all dimmed. In the living room sat Willow, Anya, Xander, and Faith. All wore grave and miserable expressions.

The ride to the sight of Buffy's death was a long and silent one.

Willow stood uncomfortable on the spot where a few days ago, her best friend had lay dead. Sitting in a circle around the area were a group of candles, each of which Anya was carefully lighting with a match. Spike was hovering at a distance, having delivered the necessary ingredient to Willow. Xander was standing near Spike, a shifty and frightened expression on his face. Faith stood apart from the others, surveying the tower fearfully. It was a cool night, and being in this place made it all the more colder. Faith had been told little about what was happening. After Giles and Cromwell had departed, Faith had confessed her entire vision to Willow, which gave the witch all that she needed to convince the others that Buffy had to be brought back. And now, with the full moon, was her opportunity. Willow glanced skyward, and the moon's brilliant beams shone down upon all. She smiled sadly...it would have to be tonight. It would have to be now.

"All right," Willow said finally. Carefully, she sprinkled the dirt from Buffy's grave around the circle of candles. "Listen, and listen closely. We don't have a lot of time. And if we screw this up, we won't be getting another full moon for a while, so tonight has to be the night. This isn't going to exactly be safe, which is why we need someone who can take what's going to be thrown at them." For a moment, Willow turned to Faith, who was still glancing around. After a moment, Willow turned away from her. "Spike, it's going to have to be you."

"What?" Xander asked, frowning. "Why can't it be me? Or Anya? Or even Faith?"

"Because I don't know what exactly this spell is going to do to the...vessel. That vessel may be comforted by kittens, or they may be subjected to blinding physical pain that could kill them. But it's hard to kill something that's already dead." Willow turned to Spike.

"You make it sound so noble, Red," he told her, a ghost of a smile etching into his features. After a moment, he threw down his cigarette and stomped it out. "But I want her back. We all do. I guess I can take one more for the team."

The group glanced around at one another, and Spike nodded, staring down at his feet. He couldn't recall the last time he had been scared. He imagined that it had been the moment that Dawn had begun to bleed, and he understood that he had failed in his promise to Buffy. But now, Spike saw that he had a way to make it up to her. To make amends for his failure before. Without another word, the vampire joined Willow in the circle. Without a word, Willow slid down onto the ground cross-legged, a picture of Buffy in front of her. Spike stood facing Willow.

"Give me your hand," Willow said, pulling a small dagger from her pocket. Kneeling, Spike extended an upturned palm to Willow, who calmly cut his hand open. Setting the knife aside, she turned Spike's palm over, and a few small drops of blood fell to the pavement left open between them. "I don't know what you're about to experience. All I know is that you'll have to find Buffy. Once you find her, I'll know it. And I'll open a portal...that's when you'll, well, y'know." Willow said to Spike. "Faith, Xander, I want you guys to head to the cemetery. You'll need to be ready when Buffy...er, comes back. Make sure you've got shovels."

"Oh, God," Xander muttered as he realized what the shovels were actually for. "We're going to dig her up." Faith glanced at him, but said nothing. Without a word, she and Xander walked toward his car.

Willow turned to Anya. "If something goes wrong...anything...then rip up the picture. I don't know what's going to happen. But...just in case."

"Uh, Red?" Spike murmured, a strange sensation now overtaking him. Glancing down at his feet, he saw that the ground inside the designated circle was now glowing a brilliant color, not unlike the effect Dawn's blood had had over the night sky. His blood was flowing more freely now.

"Gods of the night sky and of the dark rivers, I call upon thee to allow our guide to pass into your nether realm," Willow said loudly. Spike found himself growing dizzy as Willow spoke the words. "Open your gates and allow our pilgrim to pass unharmed, for his quest is noble and just. Give him safe guidance along your roads of darkness, and..."

Spike blinked only once, yet found himself in a sudden whirlwind of sand, cold, and darkness. For a few moments he was spinning uncontrollably through time and space, unable to stop or comprehend what was happening around him. And finally, it all came to a screeching halt on the front lawn of the Summers home. Spike felt himself surrounded by blinding daylight, and he quickly overcame his urge to run for shade. It was a bright and sunny day, yet he found the street entirely deserted. It was a peaceful looking scene, one that felt familiar to him somehow. Yet along with this familiarity was a strong sense of dread, one that Spike simply could not ignore. Turning, he heard commotion within the Summers home, and he turned and ran inside.

As he bolted inside, he was stunned to find the body of Joyce Summers lying on the couch, her eyes open wide and fixed on the ceiling. From elsewhere he could hear screaming and crying, many different terrified voices all melting down into one big pile of noise. After a moment, Spike heard the specific sound of the very voice that he longed to hear. Huddled in a corner, bloody knees pulled close to her chest, was Buffy. Her face was hidden from his view, and Spike knew that if his heart would beat, it would be pounding out of his chest. Buffy made herself as small as possible as she huddled there, and Xander saw all over her body the horrible signs of what she had been going through.

"So this is Hell, then," he muttered, unable to express what he felt. This was Buffy's Hell. It all made sense...she hadn't been the same since her mother died, and the screams were those of her loved ones that she was now unable to protect. "Buffy." It was all he could find to say.

"You think you can trick me," Buffy whispered, her voice raspy and raw from what Spike guessed was much screaming and crying. "You think I'll believe you."

"Buffy, it's me," Spike muttered, sinking down to his knees before her. Buffy considered this for a moment, and lifted her head from her knees. Spike gasped, and his eyes went wide. Buffy's eyes were bruised, and one was swollen shut. Her face was cut and bruised, and her top lip was cut open entirely. All over her trembling hands were deep cuts, several of them apparently down to the bone. Buffy glanced up at him, her one usable eye cold and afraid. "Come on, we have to get you out of here." Buffy thought about this for a few moments, and finally allowed Spike to help her to her feet. Spike didn't know what hit him when it did. Before he could move or realize what was happening, Buffy was on him. In a flash he was on the ground on his back, and the Slayer was dropped down beside him, plunging a fireplace poker repeatedly into his chest. Spike screamed out in pain as the Slayer, wounded but still strong, continued to thrust her makeshift weapon into him. Spike could feel himself beginning to bleed, and he cried out again as Buffy brought the poker down across her forehead, breaking open the flesh there. Hot blood coursed down his face, and with a sudden flash of anger and determination, Spike kicked Buffy away.

She hit the wall hard, and slumped down against it, out cold. Realizing what he had done, Spike flung himself limply to his feet, bleeding now from nearly a dozen wounds on his chest and a now swelling eye, coupled with what was probably a brand new concussion. Buffy was breathing, yet it was decidedly shallow. Quickly, sensing that something was wrong, Spike scooped the now defunct Slayer into his arms, and turned to leave. As he did, an unearthly growling shook the Summers living room. A sudden and inhumanly piercing cry rattled his eardreams, and Spike turned and fled, carrying Buffy along with him. He ran from the house, and he could hear splintering and thundering sounds behind him. Something was coming. Yet at the end of the Summers' driveway, there shined a bright and swirling light: Willow's portal. Mustering the last of his strength, Spike sprinted for the light, and just as he felt himself lose consciousness, stumbled through the portal.

Buffy suddenly gasped. Opening her eyes, she found herself surrounded by darkness. It was unlike the darkness of death. Raising her hands suddenly, she realized that she was in a closed and dark space. After a moment, it registered: she was in a coffin. It took her a moment to realize that she couldn't breathe, and as this occurred to her, she began to scream. She screamed at the top of her lungs, terrified beyond all reason, as she suddenly realized that this wasn't real. This was all another torment, cooked up especially for her. She had killed the last demon, and now, the real torture began. Crying out in desperation and terror, Buffy pounded upon the lid of the coffin, and felt the wood break away as she did so. Using all of her strength and determination, she began to claw her way upward. As she moved through the layers of dirt, she began to hear muffled sounds above her. She swore that she could hear yelling, though her mouth, eyes, and ears were all filled with dirt. Exhausted and suffocating, Buffy began to give out. Just as the darkness of unconscious was creeping back in, a pair of hands grapped her around the shoulders, and yanked her upward.

Buffy hit the ground hard, and the rush of oxygen was a sweet relief to her. Blinded by dirt, Buffy coughed and choked as she struggled to breathe. Her hands now bloodied and numb, she desperately wiped at the dirt which caked her face, and after a moment, she opened her eyes. Faith stared back at her. With sudden realization, Buffy launched herself blindly at the other Slayer. Faith cried out as she toppled to the ground, a filthy and feral Buffy assailing her. Buffy could hear shouting around her, but nothing else mattered. She had learned her lesson now: the demons came for her in all guises. She had killed Angel. Willow. Xander. Her own mother. And now, she would kill Faith as well, and the demons would leave her for a spell, restoring that sense of false hope that she had come to know and loathe. Buffy dealt several brutal punches to Faith's face, and the other Slayer cried out for help. To prevent this, Buffy latched her hands around Faith's throat, and began strangling the life out of the other Slayer.

"Buffy!" So intent was she on killing Faith that Buffy was taken off guard when Xander and another pair of hands pulled her away from Faith, and back onto the ground. Scared and shocked, Buffy crawled away, and turned back to see a bloodied Spike and a frightened Xander glancing at her. Buffy glanced back and forth between her three assailants, and realized that this was the end. The demons had come for her. And she was going to lsoe.

"Do it quick," Buffy struggled to say. She knew that they were going to rip her to shreds, and that would be the end. No more fighting, no more pain. Or maybe, just maybe, it would start all over again.

"Buffy." Xander said her name again. Something changed this time. Buffy stopped suddenly, and her trembling ceased. Carefully, a sudden hope consuming her, she glanced up at this person that had once been her friend Xander. He was kneeling beside her now, his eyes locked with hers. In this moment, Buffy knew. This was no demon. This was Xander. His eyes spoke too much to be false, and this was the look of a young man who was seeing a lost loved one again. Buffy could only sit on the ground, stunned, staring at Xander for a moment. Without warning, she reached forward gently, and touched Xander's face. Her hands were as cold as death, but Xander refused to pull away. He understood what was happening. Spike limped forward, weak but joyous. Faith was now pulling herself up from the ground, hoping that another attack would not come. After a moment, Buffy took her hand away from Xander's face. Standing, Xander held out a hand to help Buffy up. Eyes brimming with tears, she took it and stood alongside him. The four stood together, knowing not what to say. It had worked.