Spike arrived at sunset, just as Leo was orbing back from Victor's house. After much deliberation, Phoebe decided to ask him to take Ben to her father's house, under the very convenient excuse that she needed to talk to Anya before the summoning of Henrietta. Her father still didn't know about the consequences of his bitter words, and she didn't feel like confronting him just yet. As for Cole, he had his mind set on postponing that talk for as long as humanly possible.

"So?" Cole asked, looking from Anya to Phoebe as the two girls entered the living room, coming back from the solarium.

"I'm not sure," Phoebe admitted," but if the curse brought up either the worst memories or the greatest fears of each of us, I'd say that what Anya saw that night was just the representation of the anxiety she feels towards her wedding day. Something to which I can totally relate," she added, giving Anya a sympathetic smile.

"You had good reason to be anxious about our wedding day," Cole reminded her.

"I know," Phoebe said, placing her hand on his arm. "And that's why I'm not willing to dismiss Anya's experience as just a regular case of cold feet. But that doesn't mean that it couldn't very well be just that," she reasoned. "Especially when you think of all the heartache Anya has witnessed during the last thousand years."

"Anyway," she added, "whatever it is, it's about the wedding day, and we'll be there, four witches and one Whitelighter, paying extra attention to anything unusual."

"Yeah, between vengeance demons, a bleached vampire and a green and blue elf, I'm sure anything unusual will jump to the eyes," Cole sighed.

"Don't forget to tell Sarsour that he's supposed to give us a wedding gift," Anya reminded him, the irony lost on her.

"I will," Cole said, smiling.

"And tell your mother..." she started to say.

"That even a city like Sunnydale isn't open-minded enough to overlook the presence of an upper level demon of her caliber," Cole finished the sentence for her, nodding mindfully. He had tried to explain to Anya that he and his mother weren't on the best of terms now that they were fighting on opposite sides, and it had earned him a twenty-minute lecture about filial respect.

"I will," he said. "I'm sure she'll understand, and she'll wish you all the best even so."

"Tell her that she can send her gift through you."

"Sure," Cole said, innerly flinching at the idea of buying two wedding gifts.

"I think we're ready for Henrietta," Phoebe said before Anya thought of someone else who could send their gift through Cole. "I say we start it now so that we can put it behind us before dinner."

"Everything we need is already in the attic," Piper told her. "Is everyone ready?" she asked, turning to the others.

When everyone nodded their agreements, Leo took her hand and orbed out, while the others headed to the stairs.

"I thought we were going to do it at Phoebe and Cole's," Willow said to Paige as they walked up the stairs.

"We decided to give the fish a break," Paige told her with a smile.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

When they arrived in the attic, Leo had already moved the Book of Shadows and its pedestal to the corner of the room. He had placed a small table in the middle of the room, and Paige took the chain off her neck, slid the pendant off it and gingerly placed the pendant on the table.

"What are you gonna use?" Cole asked when Paige gave the chain back to Buffy and went join her sisters across the room. "Potion or spell?"

"The potion would have to be poured over Henrietta's bones," Piper explained. "I don't think there's anything left of them, even if we knew where to find them. So, spell it is."

"Uh, honey, the spell must be said by a ghost," Phoebe reminded her, arching her eyebrows.

"Actually, the Book of Shadows doesn't say 'ghost'," Piper said, drawing the piece of paper containing the spell out of the pocket of her sweatpants. "It says 'dead person'," she said, thrusting the piece of paper into Spike's hand.

"What!" Spike yelped, giving her a shocked look that was matched to different degrees by the looks on the faces of everyone else bar Paige, Willow and Leo, who had discussed the idea earlier that afternoon.

"This spell must be said by a dead person," Piper calmly told the vampire. "You're a dead person, thus you say the spell."

"No bloody way!" he exclaimed, trying to give the paper back to her. "I am not saying a spell!"

"Yes, you are," Piper said, firmly. "We hope it won't come to this but, if it's necessary, you'll say the spell, because you're the only one who can."

"He's dead, too!" Spike said, pointing at Leo.

"You're deader," Paige said. "Leo breathes, and his heart beats."

"Whatever," Spike said stubbornly, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "I'm not doing it."

"Actually, I think Leo should be the one saying the spell," Buffy piped in.

"Exactly," Spike said, promptly putting the piece of paper on Buffy's waiting hand.

"Buffy..." Piper started to say, but Buffy was already turning to Leo.

"Spike can't do this," she said, handing the piece of paper to him. "It'll take someone with real powers, not just a vampire."

"Exac... What!?!"

"Spike, you have no powers," Buffy said bluntly. "Being a living dead isn't a power."

"I have no..." -- Spike huffed and stalked across the room, snatching the paper from Leo's hand.

"I have no powers! Yeah, right," he grunted to himself as he went back to Piper's side. "I'll show her no powers."

"So," he said to Piper, oblivious to her amusement, "what's the drill? You Powerpuff Girls summon the lovelorn ghost, I read the spell and she's history?"

"No," Piper said, frowning. "We summon Henrietta and we try and talk to her. When and if everything else fails, we say the word and you read the spell. But only when we tell you so: you'd better get this straight, Spike, otherwise I'll keep you frozen until it's time to say the spell."

"Yeah, fine..." Spike muttered sullenly, willing to show Buffy that he was perfectly capable of casting the spell.

"Right," Piper said, smiling at Buffy behind Spike's back. "Let's summon her, then."

She and her sisters turned toward the table and together they started to chant, focusing on the woman whose essence was trapped in the pendant.

Slowly, the pendant started to irradiate a soft red light, the air wavering mildly around it as the words of the spell were said; the air felt thick and heavy, making it hard to breath.

"Is it... is it bleeding?" Willow said in a nervous voice, staring at the droplets of blood on the table. She winced and rubbed her temples; suddenly she wanted to be home, she wanted it so badly. She needed to see Tara. Tara who was alone in Sunnydale, with the Hellmouth. Tara was hurt, hurt, hurt... "Stop it!" she mentally ordered herself. "Tara is fine, it's just the curse playing games with your head."

"Are you sure this is working?" Cole said, wiping the cold sweat off his forehead. His stomach churned, yet he just couldn't take his eyes off of the pendant, which was now surrounded by a thick red fog.

None shall live.

The words were floating in the air, swirling around them.

Never go for the kill when you can go for the pain.

Whispering.

Let evil make you strong again, give into it.

Moaning.

Begging now! Make it stop!

Crying.

Hear me! Keeper of darkness!

"Again," Leo instructed as the girls finished the spell.

He leaned on the wall for support, anxiously watching Piper's pale face. The red fog now engulfed the entire table, slowly swirling around it.

Paige gasped and missed a verse when Spike vamped and threw his head back, letting out a long, suffering howl, like a wounded animal.

"Chant," Leo insisted.

Phoebe's voice faltered, and Cole quickly moved to her side and put his arms around her. She gratefully leaned back against him, and he added his voice to hers, reading the words of the spell along with her and her sisters. The air around the pendant fluttered wildly and the table shook while the two different magics tried to adjust to each other. Then, as they found balance, the table settled down, and a column of bright red smoke rose from the floor to the ceiling, surrounding the table.

"Dawn!" Buffy shrieked, staring at her sister. Dawn was standing by Anya's side, only the white of her eyes showing and her hair standing on ends. She uttered a few guttural words and Buffy took a step towards her, but Leo stopped her:

"I'll take care of her. They may need you here."

"She's..." Buffy started to say.

"The Key," he said, nodding. "I know."

With one last worried look to Piper, Leo hurried towards Dawn and, taking the girl's hand, orbed her to the safety of the first floor, away from the curse's influence. The red column in the middle of the room wavered and flickered wildly, pulling in all directions, as if there were two opposite powers, one trying to set Henrietta free while the other fought to restrain her.

As Piper, Phoebe, Paige and Cole started to say the spell for the third time, Xander felt Anya lean heavily against him, and caught her just in time before she fell to the floor. He looked around, but Leo still hadn't come back and Paige was needed to say the spell, so he scooped Anya up and backed away from the pendant, putting as much distance as possible between Anya and it.

Willow looked anxiously from the column of red smoke to Piper, Phoebe, Paige and Cole; after a moment of hesitation, she held up her hand towards them and commanded:

"Amplificare!"

The four witches gasped as the power surged through them, and the red column exploded with the sound of shattering glass, while Willow collapsed onto a nearby chair, panting. Wood fragments from the table flew in all directions and they had to duck to avoid the deadly projectiles.

Phoebe screamed in pain and dug her fingernails on Cole's forearm when a sharp piece of wood pierced into her thigh, and Cole pulled her to behind a large trunk, covering her body with his. He cast a worried look towards Piper and Paige and was relieved to see Paige orb her sister across the room, where they both hid behind a wardrobe. In the meantime, Xander crawled towards a desk, still holding Anya in his arms; he crouched behind it, holding her tight as she buried her face on his chest. Across the room, Buffy helped a still groggy Willow to hide behind an old armchair; before she could do the same, though, a crimson spectre launched itself towards her with a roaring sound; she turned around just in time to see Spike jump on the way of the spectre, still wearing his game face. The vampire was thrown across the room and towards a bookcase, whose contents fell on top of him as he fell heavily to the floor, while Buffy was thrown in the opposite direction and crashed against the wall.

Spike sat up on the floor, barely acknowledging the pain as his eyes quickly scanned the room, looking for Buffy. At first he didn't understand what the hell Piper was yelling about:

"Spike, the spell!"

He struggled to get back to his feet while all hell broke loose in the attic. The armchair behind which Willow was hiding was pushed by an invisible force, making her scream in pain as she was crushed between it and the wall with a sound of broken bones.

"Read the damn spell!" Paige shouted before she left Piper's side and orbed towards Willow.

"Leo!" Cole called out as the window exploded and shattered glass rained down on Xander and Anya.

"The spell!" Spike repeated as the words sank in. "The spell, the spell," he muttered to himself as he crouched on the floor and started to frantically search for the piece of paper, browsing among the books.

"Sodding hell," he cursed angrily as a few more books fell from the bookcase. "Come on, come on!" he pleaded between clenched teeth.

Leo orbed in just in time to be hit across the chest by a stool and stumble to the floor.

"Spike, read the spell!" Cole screamed while he pulled Leo to behind the trunk just before an antique typing machine hit the floor on the very spot where the Whitelighter had been.

Spike cursed again, his hands working frantically among the books, millions of books, small books, large books, dictionaries, recipe books, poetry books...

"Bloody Nora!"

Spike's eyes widened and he scrambled back to his feet, game face off, unceremoniously kicking books out of his way.

"I know!" he exclaimed, transfixed, and the red spectre swirled away from Buffy and towards him.

"Spike, read the..." -- Buffy started to say, but he held up his hand to silence her.

"Shush, pet," he said, furrowing his brown in concentration, oblivious to the red shadow flying menacingly towards him.

"One word is too often profaned for me to profane it," Spike said, slowly. As the spectre halted, he added, still holding up his hand: "Wait. Wait, I know it."

He bit his lower lip, thinking furiously. One lamp exploded near him, but he didn't even flinch.

"One feeling is, uh... One feeling... Think, damn it, think!" he angrily muttered to himself, closing his eyes.

"Sp..." -- Buffy didn't finish the sentence as she had to dive under a desk to avoid the same typing machine that had almost hit Leo.

"One word is too often profaned for me to profane it," Spike said again, all tension suddenly leaving him as the words came back to him.

"One feeling too falsely disdain'd for thee to disdain it."

He tilted his head to the side, giving the spectre a curious look. It was now hovering in the middle of the room, and Spike proceeded, the words coming out of this mouth easily as he recalled the verses that young William had once loved:

"One hope is too like despair for prudence to smother,

And pity from thee more dear than that from another."

The room was now silent except for the vampire's voice; Piper warily peered around the wardrobe and Buffy crawled from under the desk and stood up, leaning on it; Phoebe sat up with Cole's help, ignoring the pain in her leg as she watched Spike from behind the trunk.

"I can give not what men call love," Spike said, "but wilt thou accept not..."

"... the worship the heart lifts above," a female voice coming from the red spectre finished the sentence for him, "and the heavens reject not?"

"The desire of the moth for the star," he said quietly, "of the night for the morrow?"

"The devotion to something afar," the voice finished, "from the sphere of our sorrow?"

Willow and Paige, sitting side by side on the floor, gaped at the scene before them, the vampire and the ghost of the short brunette that slowly appeared before him, her shoulders slumping as she said in a whisper:

"Percy Shelley. We used to read it together."

Her British accent was stronger than Spike's, with a different cadence that went back to the late 19th century. Her translucid feet barely touched the floor, a ghostly visage with sorrowful eyes.

"Not a bad choice," he said conversationally. "Although I personally prefer the works of Francis Palgrave."

Then he cleared his throat, suddenly self-conscious, and, avoiding the dumbfounded looks turned towards him, swirled on his heels and walked straight to the door. Buffy opened her mouth to speak as he walked past her, but he cut her off before she could say a word.

"I'll go see how the Niblet is doing," he said without looking back at her, in an unusually sober voice.

Buffy watched as he walked through the door and down the stairs, and then almost unwillingly turned her attention back to the ghost still standing in the middle of the attic.

"Henrietta?" Piper called tentatively.

"Why have you brought me back?" she asked, turning to Piper with accusing eyes. "Why can't you just leave me alone?"

"We want to help you," Phoebe said, standing up. There was a large bloodstain on the right leg of her jeans, slowly growing around the wood piece that was still stuck into her thigh.

"You are too late," Henrietta said bitterly, while Cole gently but firmly made Phoebe sit on the trunk so that Leo could heal her leg. "I am beyond help."

"You'd be surprised," Cole said, a small smile on his lips as he fondled Phoebe's hand.

"Are you mocking my pain?" she lashed out, turning angrily to him.

"You're holding on to the wrong things, Henrietta," Phoebe said. "Your pain isn't what will help you through this."

"You know nothing about me," Henrietta hissed. "My pain is all I have."

"What about your love?" Piper asked, warily walking around the wardrobe.

"Love," Henrietta snorted. "Love is but a beautiful word in the mouth of poets."

"It..." Piper started to say but Henrietta cut her off.

"It carries hope of brighter times and new beginnings," she said. "And sometimes it may even live up to its promises. But sometimes," she said grimly, "sometimes love just is not enough."

"Don't say that," Phoebe said as she stood up. "Don't say that. Ever."

Henrietta opened her mouth to reply, but Phoebe proceeded:

"Don't say that, Henrietta. Infatuation is not enough. Passion, chemistry, desire are not enough. But love..." -- her voice cracked just a little, love bursting from her eyes as she glanced at Cole -- "Love is enough. Always. At the end of the day, love is all that matters. It's the one thing that will help you through it all."

"It was not enough for us," Henrietta insisted. "It did not prevent us from being shattered."

"Love won't prevent you from being hurt," Cole said quietly, placing his arm around Phoebe's waist. "But it's what will heal you."

"It is too late," Henrietta said, shaking her head. "My love is gone. Forever. I should have seen him; we should have talked. Now it is too late and there is so much I will never be able to tell him." -- her voice wavered as she said the last words, and she looked away.

"Death," Piper said, the hand resting on her stomach instinctively finding the spot where she could feel the baby's head pressing against her lower abdomen, "is hardly the end."

Henrietta narrowed her eyes, giving her a suspicious look, and Piper said gently:

"We can help you find closure. We're witches, too; let us help you, Henrietta."

"You are powerful witches," Henrietta acknowledged in a whisper. "I could feel your power."

She watched warily as the five candles were placed in a circle on the floor and Piper, Phoebe and Paige held hands and started to chant again:

"Hear my words, hear my cry,
Spirit from the other side.
Come to me, I summon thee,
Cross now the great divide."

Henrietta let out a strangled cry when a tall man with sandy hair appeared in the center of the circle formed by the candles.

"Lucas!" she breathed, raising her hand to her throat.

"Hettie," he said, smiling softly at her.

The others watched as the two lovers walked towards each other, their diaphanous hands blending into each another as they met in the middle of the attic.

"My love," she said tearfully. "Oh, love..."

"Ah, Hettie," he whispered. "Ah, love, it has been so long!..."

"It has been an eternity..." she sighed, closing her eyes.

"Not an eternity," Lucas said. He raised his hand, reaching out for her face, and she opened her eyes as if sensing the touch of his incorporeal hand. "Eternity lies ahead of us, Hettie."

"Not for me," she said, shaking her head. "For me there has been only the darkness; empty and cold, like hell should be." -- she bit her lower lip, giving him an hesitant look -- "Lucas, am I in hell?"

"You have been in a hell of your own making," he gently told her. "Hell is what is left when you give up on hope."

"You have lost hope, Hettie," he said when she lowered her head. "And love cannot exist where there is no hope."

"I never stopped loving you!" she exclaimed, her head jolting up to face him again. "I never, ever..."

"The beautiful love we shared was tainted when you let your heart fill with hatred," Lucas said.

Henrietta opened her mouth to protest, but he held up his hand to silence her.

"I know that you never stopped loving me, and I never stopped loving you, either. I have been waiting for you, love, hoping that some day you would be ready to move on."

He looked at her with eyes bursting with love as he pleaded:

"Before you cross, you must let go, Hettie. Let go of the hurt and the anger that have been poisoning your heart for so long."

"It has kept me alive," she said tearfully.

"No," Lucas said, shaking his head. "No, it has not. It has kept you from living. You cannot cross if you are not free, love, and you will not be free until you can forgive and forget."

There was a long silence as Henrietta lowered her head again, avoiding Lucas' eyes.

"Lucas, I am scared," she finally whispered.

"Don't be," he said softly. "You can do it, and I am here to help you."

He backed one step, still smiling encouragingly at her, and went back to the circle formed by the candles. Henrietta watched him without a word; her face was stricken as she relived in her mind the days that had preceded her death, the accusations and the hate that she had faced then. She took a hesitant step towards Lucas, but stopped short when the flame of the candles fluttered wildly.

"You can do it. Hettie," Lucas said. "You were wild and short tempered, and sometimes reckless, but you were always generous. That was your gift, love; if you lose it, evil will have won."

The others held their breaths as Henrietta closed her eyes, gathering the necessary serenity and strength. When she opened her eyes again, she looked at Lucas for support; he smiled at her, nodding his head, and she started to chant in a quiet but steady voice:

"Past offenses shall be past
Words of hate, not meant to last
Bless the one who once was curs'd
As the rancour bonds are burst."

As she said the words of the forgiveness blessing, and said them from her heart, Henrietta's expression softened, the tension leaving her shoulders as a the pendant started to glow with a soft golden light that lit up the entire room.

"So mote it be," Lucas said, smiling.

"So mote it be," Henrietta echoed, walking towards him.

She buried herself in Lucas' arms with a sigh, while the light slowly faded and the pendant stood still again.

"What now?" she quietly asked him.

"Now," he replied with a smile, "we fly back home."

Henrietta rested her head on his chest again and he placed a loving kiss on her forehead before raising his head to address the others for the first time.

"Thank you," he said. "Blessed be."

Henrietta's pulled slightly away from him to look at the people gathered in the attic.

"So much power," she whispered. "And there is more, much more to come; I see bloodshed, but I also see miracles."

Before anyone could question her, she added with a smile:

"Blessed be." Then turning to Lucas again: "Take me home, love."

And then he smiled back at her, and they faded away while the candles burned out, one by one.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

"How was it?" Dawn asked when she saw the others coming down the stairs.

She was lying on the couch, and Spike was sitting on the coffee table before her. She tried to prop herself up to a sitting position on the couch, which earned her a frown from him.

"I'm fine!" she protested when he tried to make her lie back on the couch.

"Well, after Spike came join you..." Phoebe started to say, but Dawn cut her off, shaking her head.

"Before that," she said, shoving Spike's hand away and sitting on the couch. "I want to know how Spike stopped the ghost, but he won't tell me."

"Yeah, Spike," Xander said, sitting on an armchair opposite to them and pulling Anya to his knees. "What exactly was that? Poetry night of the living dead?"

"Poetry?!?" Dawn squealed. "Spike recited poetry and I missed it?"

"She had a premonition of how the ghost would be stopped," Spike said, rolling his eyes and pointing at Phoebe. "But since she only knew the first verse of the poem, and no one else had the necessary education, I had to step in."

He caught sight of Buffy's skeptical expression and said sourly:

"Hey, just because I'm a vampire it doesn't mean that I was some illiterate clodhopper when I was alive. My family was something in London," he added, and even as he said that he could see Cecily's face in his mind, the look in her eyes as she had turned him down because he was "beneath her".

"Unlike the Irish rabble," he remarked angrily, standing up and brushing away the humiliating memory.

"So, Dawnie," Willow hastily asked, willing to change the subject from the issues between Spike and Angel, "what was that that you said back in the attic?"

Dawn just shrugged, clueless, and Cole answered Willow's question:

"From beneath, it devours." The others looked at him and he explained. "It was a demonic language."

"Oh, please, not another magical riddle!..." Anya sighed, rolling her eyes.

All eyes turned to Spike, but the vampire huffed and dismissed them with a wave of his hand.

"We're closed for business," he said grouchily. "Come back tomorrow during business hours."

"Let's eat," Piper said conciliatorily. "I've made stuffed artichokes with smoked salmon salad, and I think we should open a few bottles of wine to celebrate this very eventful two-curses-for-the-price-of-one week."

As they were heading to the dining room, Paige placed her hand on Buffy's arm.

"Here," she said, handing the pendant to Buffy. "You forgot this in the attic; I think it's safe to wear it now that it's curse-free."

"Thank you," Buffy said, receiving the pendant.

She stayed behind while the others walked to the dining room, staring at the pendant in her hand with a thoughtful expression.

"Someday," she finally said in a whisper, as she gingerly put the pendant in her pocket and headed to the dining room to join the others.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

Later that night

As Spike rode his motorcycle back to Sunnydale, only half of his mind was on the road. And as his mind kept replaying the events of the past week, he only grew more and more perplexed. He was used to dealing with demons and ghosts, alright; but not with witches who treated him like he was... just another guy. They had liked him or disliked him for the way he had behaved among them, and not for being a vampire or for his evil past. They had scolded him for being nasty and thanked him for saving the little wicca bit, just like they would've done to one of their own kind.

There was a bus ahead of him, and he quickly checked the mirror before changing lanes and passing it. Just another guy, he thought again, chewing lightly on his lower lip. Just one of the guys. He could get used to that. He had never thought such a thing was possible. And yet... Spike sighed thoughtfully. Changing the present, since it was too late to change the past: the idea had a certain appeal. It would run against the general belief that any good the vampire might do wouldn't count because he was an evil dead thing.

He could definitely get used to that.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

The morning after

Buffy was extremely silent in the car during the trip back to Sunnydale. While the others talked about the week they had spent in San Francisco and of the task that awaited them in Sunnydale, she absently looked through the window, her mind miles away from there.

As the road flew before her eyes, Buffy thought of the three women she had met.

The Charmed Ones. They had a destiny, just like she had; protectors of the innocents, targeted by evil on a daily basis. Just like she was. They had been forced to make sacrifices, and they had lost people they loved. Just like she had.

Still, they were wives and mothers. With careers, and love, and dreams. They had lives.

Just like she could have, too.