Equinoxium: Chapter 2
by Lisette

Legalese: See Chapter 1 for disclaimers and ratings.

As the red sun lifted above the far horizon, it cast its warm rays down upon the heads of the three weary travelers. Day had come only minutes before, but already the sun set about the task of removing the fell shadows from the earth and casting the world into light. For much of this world, it was a light that in past years had never been quite bright enough, the golden rays never reaching far into the thick wood that they traveled. It made no matter that Mirkwood, once known far and wide as Greenwood the Great, was once home to a mighty elven realm, for once the dark shadow had descended upon the southern reaches of the vast forest, not even the light of the elves had been enough to cast away the dark. Now, nine years since the War of the Ring in which the Dark Lord Sauron had been cast from his throne and peace had begun to reign once more, the shadows still grappled with the light. In some ways, Prince Legolas, the youngest son of King Thranduil of Mirkwood, member of the famed Fellowship of the Ring and Lord of Southern Ithilien, the last remaining bastion of the elves of Middle-earth... in some ways the prince knew that the darkness would never quite leave his beloved forest.

"My Lord?"

Sighing softly, Legolas felt his horse shift beneath him as his chin lifted, brilliant blue eyes taking in the sight of the palace that had been his home for over five hundred years - a home that was now deserted and devoid of life. It had been over nine years since he had left this palace on a mission of great importance and even greater shame. He had been tasked to travel to Imladris, the elven stronghold known also as Rivendell, so that he could inform Lord Elrond of his failings and of the loss of the being known as Gollum. The task was only meant to take him but a few months, but in the end he had been swept up in a journey for which the entire fate of Middle-earth had rested upon its outcome - the sole representative for all of elven kind. Once the war had ended, Legolas had returned to his father's realm only briefly, for despite the hero's welcome of his people, Aragorn, king now of Gondor, had already asked his help in restoring the forests of Ithilien to their glory. The forest had been dark and polluted by the nearness of Mordor, its song weak and mournful, and it was a challenge that Legolas had eagerly accepted. At the time, he had no idea of what he was truly beginning.

"My Lord?"

Shaking away his troubled thoughts, Legolas turned and finally acknowledged the two elves that had made the long trip with him to his father's old realm. "Peace, my friends," he stated, brushing away their wary concern as he turned his eyes back to the trees that surrounded them. A soft wind lifted his pale tresses, and Legolas smiled softly as the trees shifted and swayed beneath a cloudless blue sky. Their young prince had returned and the forest sang its welcome. For Legolas, the song was bittersweet, for he knew that he was only temporarily staying the forest's grief at the departure of the elves that had long inhabited their wood. "Go see to your tasks," he stated, gesturing to the open wood around them. "I think that we shall not have reason to tarry here, no matter what our heart's desires," he murmured, his voice dying to a whisper as the two elves shared a brief glance before nodding as one.

"As you bid, my Lord," Thoron stated before dismounting from his elven steed, releasing the animal to his own endeavors as his companion did the same.

Smiling softly, Legolas slowly slid from his mount, Sador, and landed lightly on the rich, leaf-strewn earth below. "Stray not far, my friend, for I shall have need of you soon," he murmured before releasing the beast to his own devices. His gaze drifted over the wood, once filled with the voices and song of his kin, and now silent save for the sad song of the trees of his birth.

Even before the War of the Ring, the elves of Middle-earth had already begun to drift from its shores. For some, the sea called to them and beckoned them to make haste over the waters and sail to the Undying Lands. To others, it was simply a matter of acceptance: the time of the Elves was over and the Eldar were leaving these shores. It was now the Fourth Age, the age of Men, and within a few years of the war both Imladris and Lothlrien were deserted, the firstborn of the elven realms following Lord Elrond and Lady Galadriel, and later, Lord Celeborn as well, as they traveled west to the Havens and across the sea. Those that did not wish to depart stayed in the few remaining outposts of elves, tarrying in Middle-earth until whatever bound them to this place released them to their fates - to the fate of all elves. Even Legolas. In time, the only elves that remained in Middle-earth were those of his father's realm and the elves that had fallen under Legolas' unwilling rule. Yet even time could not prevent that last great realm from following their brethren.

It had always been said that the elves of Mirkwood carried a deeper connection to Middle-earth than any of their Sindarin or Noldor kin, yet even for his people the call of the sea could not be ignored. They stayed in Middle-earth for as long as they desired, but when King Thranduil finally heard the cry of the sea, the rest of the realm quickly followed their king. His family had stayed with him in Southern Ithilien for two months, two months in which his brothers and his father had worked relentlessly to convince him to come with them now. Having now experienced the sea-longing that tormented many of his people, they could not understand the ties that continued to bind Legolas to Middle-earth. In the end, his father had finally given his youngest son his grudging blessing. After all, father and son both knew that Legolas was merely delaying the inevitable. The sea-longing couldn't be ignored forever, and instead Legolas struggled to fight it as long as he could.

So he remained in a world in which his kind was quickly fading into myth, never aging while his mortal friends followed the heeding of their mortal bodies. In his heart, he knew that once the last of his friends gave up this life, Middle-earth could bind him no longer. He would leave these shores, as all elves faded from this world. The only question remained whether he would abandon this life and sail to the Undying Lands, rejoining his kind until the ends of time, or whether he would die from grief and travel to the Halls of Mandos where he would await the comings of his kin or the ends of the world by the side of his mother and eldest brother. His father had obviously feared the latter.

"Legolas, you will heed your father and king! You must not ignore the callings of the sea and tarry here with these mortals. They will be your undoing. Our kind is not meant to dwell with mortals, for it is not our way. Can you survive time's irreproachable march towards its final ending? For if you cannot, then you must come with us now before it is too late for you. I will not have another of my sons fade from grief. I will not lose you."

Sighing softly, Legolas slowly tilted his head back and allowed the sun's warm rays to caress his pale features, dappled as they were by the leafy branches that towered above him. In the end, his father had finally understood that his youngest son had truly inherited his stubbornness and could not be convinced to forsake his friends. Thus, King Thranduil had left Middle-earth, taking with him his remaining two sons and virtually every elf of the woodland realm, save his closest advisor and highest captain of his personal guard. Thoron had stayed behind and since then had made it abundantly clear that he did so on the bidding of his king. King Thranduil had acceded to his son's wishes, but he did have the final say when he bid his most trusted of warriors to remain behind as his son's keeper and guard. His own personal bodyguard.

Shaking his head ruefully, Legolas made his way into the trees that towered above him, gracefully leaping from limb to limb as the trees sensed his movements and shifted their branches to aid him. Legolas was a prince of Mirkwood, a warrior of renown and a hero known throughout Middle-earth - a Lord unto his own right - and yet his father had left him with a bodyguard. If Legolas hadn't found the idea so vastly amusing, he probably would have been irritated by his father's presumptions that he was somehow unfit to care for himself. Even now when their world celebrated a peace that this generation of man had never before seen, Thoron still shadowed Legolas' movements when outside their own woodland realm. The more mischievous side of the prince had half a mind to pay Gimli a visit on their return trip to Ithilien, if for no other reason than to test the limits of Thoron's desire to trail him. Perhaps when faced with the idea of entering a dwarven stronghold the elder elf would rethink his need to follow the price's every step.

Sighing, the young elf, a contradiction in and of itself, slowly shook his head as he paused mid-branch. Not even he was quite sure why he had made this trip to his father's realm. It had been years since he had set foot within the boundaries of Mirkwood, and even though his heart had ached for the familiar trees, his work in Ithilien had kept him far too busy to fulfill idle fantasies. As it was, Legolas didn't have the time to see as much of his dear friends as he desired - an amusing irony that wasn't lost on the immortal elf. With the remaining hobbits back in the Shire, Gimli Lord of his own realm, omer in Rohan, and Aragorn and Arwen ruling all of Gondor, Lord Faramir and the Lady owyn were the sole two companions that he was able to see the most, and that was merely because of their joint efforts in Ithilien. Then again, too many weeks of the same disturbing dream were too much for even him to ignore.

Ilvatar had blessed his Firstborn children with many gifts - gifts that were unmatched in any of the other races of Arda. One such gift was the gift of foresight, as seen with Lady Galadriel and Lord Elrond. However, the gift of foresight was a gift that Legolas had never before possessed... until now. While at first he had been willing to write off the dream as nothing more than that, weeks of sleep that had been interrupted by the same vision had left him shaken and filled with an ill foreboding that he could no longer ignore. All he knew was that his desire to see his home, if even for the last time, was too much to ignore.

His dreams had drawn him to Mirkwood with a pull that weighed heavily upon his mind and spirit, and while he knew that he was perfectly capable of making the long journey on his own, Thoron and Mirdan, another elf of his father's realm, had insisted upon accompanying him. As Thoron loved to point out over and over again during their long travels, despite the fall of Sauron, his evil creatures were still present, fouling their world with their dark presence and hunted by those that would oppose them. Orcs still haunted the mountains and plagued the fields of Rohan, and while weakened and hunted themselves, such foul creatures would never miss the opportunity that was presented by a sole elf riding through their midst. And rather than cause a scene, Legolas had simply accepted their offers of company.

Shaking his head, he continued to climb higher in the trees, the comforting presence of his bow and quiver lying against his back as he allowed his inner turmoil to dissipate. His reasons for coming mattered not. Instead, he intended to make the most of this brief respite from ruling an odd assortment of elves from many different realms and enjoy the quiet. With Elrond's twin sons off roaming Middle-earth together, Legolas remained the last of the Eldar nobility upon Middle-earth. With this thought, the remaining elves, no matter where they originally hailed from, as such looked to him to guide them - and thus he became Lord... but here? Here amongst these familiar trees all of his titles and deeds were forgotten. Here, once more he could simply be Legolas, the youngest Prince of Mirkwood - a far easier burden to bear.

The silence that had fallen on the room at Buffy's declaration was absolute. Not Giles. The man that was standing with them wasn't Giles. It wasn't-

"I found you at the high school and you led me down into the darkness," the watcher murmured, his voice growing soft as he slowly stepped forward until he was standing a hair's breath before his slayer. "And then they came and stabbed me with a dagger while you watched," he added as his image rippled and melted until it was as though Buffy was looking into a mirror. "Just like you did to her," it continued, Buffy's own familiar lips pulling into a cruel smirk as it lifted one jean-clad arm and pointed a slender finger at the dark-haired slayer that was rooted to the floor by the couch.

"What the fuck?" Faith muttered, her eyes darting back and forth between the two Buffys as the rest of the girls scurried back from their leader and that which they had been fighting... fearing: the First Evil.

"And as his blood slowly drained onto the seal," the First continued as green eyes met green, "the only thing that he had left to say was..." she trailed off before the form stretched until Giles was once more standing before his slayer. Only this time, the watcher's lined forehead was creased and wet with perspiration, his eyes glazed as he pressed one hand against his abdomen as rivers of blood leaked past his stained fingers. "Not your fault," he gasped, his eyes locked on Buffy's stoic features. "Not your fault-" he repeated before disappearing and leaving the room in shambles.

Numb, Buffy found herself frozen in the middle of the room, her eyes seeing nothing as her mind tried to process what had just happened... as her mind tried to reconcile her heart to the fact that her watcher was dead. Giles was dead. The man that had entered her life seven years ago, mentored her, cared for and guided her... he was dead and gone forever, and the First Evil had worn the face of his beloved slayer as it bled him upon the seal... the seal that would now be open.

They would be coming.

Gasping, Buffy felt everything rush back as the panicked voices of the potential slayers mixed with Dawn's muffled sobs and the cries of her friends. Everyone was turning to her, questioning her, begging her for answers as to what they should do next. Giles was dead. Giles was gone and the Big Bad's deadly and practically invincible minions had been freed by her watcher's blood. They would be coming - and yet all of it was just background noise as Buffy stared at everyone in confusion. Giles was dead. Giles was-

"Because it wasn't. It wasn't her fault. It was ours. All ours."

Forcing the other voices to fade into the background, Buffy turned on her heel, her skirt swirling about her as she focused on the sole voice that had caught her attention. Green eyes narrowing into twin slits, Buffy watched as Anya stood alone and forgotten against the wall, her hands shaking as she continued to repeat her mantra to herself, over and over again.

"Our fault. Our fault they're dead. Our fault."

In two quick strides the small slayer crossed the cluttered living room and paused only when she was standing before the ex-demon, the young woman's startled eyes lifting from her trembling hands. "What do you mean?" she demanded, her voice finally breaking through Anya's incessant mumblings as the taller girl tried to turn away - which was when Buffy's hold finally, truly snapped. "What do you mean?" she repeated, her voice carrying above all others as she surged forward, one hand wrapping around Anya's slender throat and snapping her back against the wall.

"Buffy! Let her go!" Xander protested as he appeared at Buffy's side, his larger hand trying to pry his ex-fiance free, only to be bodily shoved to the floor by the small slayer as she tightened her grip on the ex-demon's neck. Grunting as he plowed into a group of Potentials, Xander watched as Willow and Spike uncertainly started forward, only to quickly fall back as Faith moved in behind Buffy in a position that let everyone know in no uncertain terms that she would prevent any of them from stopping this - especially as the rogue slayer withdrew a wickedly curved knife from the waistband of her dirty blue pants.

"What are you talking about?" Buffy repeated, her voice low and icy, as her gaze remained locked on Anya's wide, unblinking eyes. "What's not my fault?"

"I can't," Anya began as she tried to still her frightened breathing, memories rising unbidden of a similar encounter between the demon and slayer only months ago... weeks ago. But that encounter had been a fight between a demon and a slayer. This time was different. This time she was human and deep down, she knew that Buffy would never truly strike at a human.... she wouldn't...

...would she? "Giles made me promise that I wouldn't-"

"Giles is dead," Buffy interrupted, her voice flat and betraying none of the pain that was splitting her heart in two.

Hearing these words and feeling them like a blow to her abdomen, Faiths hand faltered as she quickly turned to her fellow slayer. She didn't know what the hell was going on here, she didn't know what that thing was that was wearing Giles' face, and she had no idea why her fellow slayer was suddenly attacking her own friends, but she did know that Buffy had never been wrong before. Buffy had never faltered and if she thought that this was the route that they needed to take, the hell if Faith was going to say otherwise. Sighing, she quickly slipped her knife into the strap at the small of her back as she gently dropped a light hand on the smaller slayer's tensed shoulder. "B, we don't know that for sure. He-"

"He'd dead," Buffy countered, ignoring the blinding turmoil that caused everything to be spinning around her far too quickly. "The First can only take the form of those who are dead," she explained, her eyes never once straying from Anya's pale features.

"Yeah, well it sure as hell didn't seem to have a problem taking yours," Faith quickly bit back, a flare of her old anger causing her short temper to simmer as Buffy finally drew her gaze away from Anya - and forced the dark-haired slayer to meet the deadest, most pain-filled eyes that she had ever seen.

"That's because I was dead, remember? I was in the ground for five months," Buffy stated impassively as she pointedly turned away, dismissing the other slayer without another word. Yet before she could fully turn away, Buffy reached forward so fast that her hand was a blur as it wrapped around the hilt of Faith's knife and drew it from its sheath. Turning, she then leveled the sharp blade against the soft flesh of Anya's neck. "Tell me what you know," Buffy stated, feeling the tension in the room beginning to mount as she purposefully ignored everyone but the young woman that she was holding captive before her. The one that seemed to hold the information that she had been seeking for so long. The one who had willingly kept the knowledge from her all along.

"Y-you wouldn't," Anya stammered, her veins filling with ice as she looked into Buffy's hard eyes - the eyes of a stranger.

For a moment, Buffy felt the entire world fall away as her grip became slick on the hilt of the knife. Anya was her friend, one of the Scoobies - someone who was fighting on their side. Yet Buffy had tried to kill her just a few months back when Anya had once more become Anyanka and had unleashed her vengeance upon a house full of fraternity boys. Had the ex-demon really already forgotten the sword that Buffy had driven into her heart? Because Buffy certainly hadn't. She hadn't forgotten Anya's blood as it had stained her hands. She hadn't forgotten the resignation or the understanding that shone in the hurting girl's eyes. And she certainly hadn't forgotten how Xander had pleaded with her to see reason - to see that she was trying to destroy one of their friends. But what Xander hadn't understood was that her calling as the Slayer had truly lifted her beyond the bounds of friendship - lifted her above everything.

"You have no idea what she's going through," Xander protested as he frantically worked to stop his best friend from destroying the woman that a part of him would never stop loving.

"I don't care what she's going through!" Buffy protested as she pulled away from Xander, physically as well as emotionally.

"No, of course not. You think we haven't seen all this before? The part where you just cut us all out? Just step away from everything human and act like you're the law? If you knew what I felt-"

"I killed Angel!" Buffy broke in, the tears shining in her green eyes. "Do you even remember that?" she asked, her voice growing soft... and then growing hard once more. "I would have given up everything I had to be with - I loved him more than I will ever love anything in this life. And I put a sword through his heart because I had to."

"This is different-"

"Its always different! It's always complicated. And at some point someone has to draw the line, and that's always going to be me. You get down on me for cutting myself off, but in the end the slayer is always cut off. There's no mystical guidebook. No all-knowing council. Human rules don't apply. There's only me. I am the law."

She was the law, and the law was cold and impassive this night. It was hurting and it was in pain and it was unforgiving. "Didn't you hear what I just said?" Buffy whispered, her eyes softening for the briefest of moments as she slowly shook her head, her hand tightening around the hilt of the sharp knife. "None of us are so important that I wouldn't sacrifice any of us to see it done. None of us."

"Not even yourself?"

Stunned by the anger that flashed in the ex-demon's eyes, Buffy slowly released her hold on Anya's neck and backed a step away. "What-"

"Are you willing to sacrifice yourself?" Anya continued as she lifted one trembling hand to massage her bruised throat. "Because apparently that was the one person that Giles refused to sacrifice. Not again," she stated, her eyes narrowing as she pointedly stepped to the side so that she was back amongst the relative safety of the others in the room.

"What are you on about?" Spike demanded, his blue eyes flashing as he moved past Faith's stunned form until he was standing beside Buffy in a silent show of support, even as his eyes surreptitiously darted to take in her trembling form. While the crazy bint wasn't making any sense to him, or to any of the others in the room, if one could judge by their baffled expressions, it seemed as though Buffy knew what would be coming next as her face paled.

"No one ever asked us where we went the night that you fought against the Turok-Han," Anya continued, her eyes darting accusingly around the room.

"Well, we kind of had our hands full with the whole not dying," Xander retorted in the group's defense as Anya turned from the small slayer to unleash her anger upon her ex-fianc and the witch that had moved to stand beside him.

"We visited Beljoxa's Eye that night," she stated, her voice cold and hard, "and it told us that the First Evil is only able to attack the balance because there is no balance. We ruined it when we brought Buffy back. We destroyed the balance and it's because of us that all this has happened!" she cried, her voice rising until it was at a fever pitch, both Xander and Willow recoiling as though they had been slapped. "Giles knew this and he made me promise not to tell anyone," she continued, the tears pooling in her eyes as she belatedly realized that it no longer mattered what Giles had made her promise. Giles was dead and she would never be able to make him another promise again.

Sighing, Anya angrily scrubbed the tears from her cheeks as she turned back to Buffy to find the small slayer standing before her with her head downcast and her shoulders sloped as though she shouldered a great weight, the wickedly-curved knife held loosely by her side. She looked defeated. "He made me promise not to tell you because he wasn't willing to lose you. Not again."

"Giles is dead," Buffy returned, her voice a lost whisper as she lifted her pale, tear-streaked face towards the ex-vengeance demon. Towards her friend.

"And are you willing to sacrifice yourself to see the balance restored?" Anya asked, repeating her earlier question as she defiantly lifted her chin.

For a moment, Buffy was utterly silent as Anya's question echoed within her mind. Was she willing to see it done? Closing her eyes, Buffy wanted to laugh aloud at the irony of it. A year ago, she would have been dancing for the chance that was now being offered to her, for a year ago, she had wanted nothing more than to return to wherever Willow and the others had torn her from. But that had been a year ago. Now, she realized with a rueful smile, all she wanted was to live. Death was inevitable and it would come for her again someday, and luck holding, she would have her chance to return to that place where only peace existed. But Buffy wasn't ready for that moment to be now. Then again, since when did she ever really have a say in her life? When did what she want ever matter?

Slowly shaking her head, Buffy turned away from the ex-demon and sought out her sister's wide hazel eyes from the sea of so many others - all those whose lives were at stake because of her existence - and with a watery smile, she had her answer. "Yes," she stated simply as she resolutely lifted the knife and drove it towards her heart, only to have the knife torn from her grasp and into Willow's outstretched hand, the redhead's eyes two liquid pools of black as both Xander and Spike tackled the small slayer to the ground.

Grunting, Buffy became lost in the moment as she wrestled with Xander and Spike on the living room floor as a swarm of potentials launched themselves at Faith and tried in vain to keep the other slayer away from Willow - and through it all, Dawn watched everything through horrified, tear-stained eyes. Everything was happening too fast and everything was becoming too jumbled. Buffy was screaming at Xander and Spike to let her go so that she could kill herself as Faith was swearing at the girls that were preventing her from getting to Willow, who was busy trying to get to Anya who was trying to hide behind Andrew. It was complete pandemonium - a roar of voices and pained grunts that echoed throughout the house and drew the attention of the other potentials that had been gathered in the basement, oblivious to the drama that was unfolding upstairs. And with each screamed plea, with each cry of pain, with each bewildered question and shouted accusation, Dawn felt everything build within her until she felt it all pour forth in an explosion of temper that she hadn't displayed in over a year. "STOP IT! EVERYONE STOP IT!!"

Silence descended upon the room, thick, cloying and uncomfortable as all eyes turned to the slender teen. She stood amidst it all with her hands pressed against her ears and her eyes pinched shut against the sight of her sister in a tangle of limbs on the floor before her.

Panting from her place against the living room wall, Willow shifted in Faith's fisted grip as her tired green eyes swept past Kennedy and the other potentials that were sprawled behind the slayer, until they finally located Buffy in the mess of strewn bodies. "It... it won't work that way," she panted, her voice wavering as Faith slowly began to loosen her hold on the bunched cloth of Willow's shirt. "Buffy, just take a moment to think about it. If it did, why would the First be trying to kill you at each and every opportunity?" she persisted as Faith backed off enough for her to shake free of the girl's grip. Sagging against the wall, Willow watched as Xander tentatively unwrapped his legs from around Buffy's as Spike slowly began to loosen his hold on her torso. "Killing yourself won't restore the balance."

Closing her eyes, Buffy tiredly allowed her head to fall back upon the plush carpeting beneath her before she slowly pushed herself to her feet. Feeling everyone's eyes upon her, she resolutely moved around Dawn's trembling frame, pushed through the potentials, and then gently took Faith's place before her red-haired best friend. "What will?" she asked, her question so very simple as she held her friend's gaze.

Yet instead of a response, Willow merely stood in silence. Her large green eyes filled with tears as she slowly lifted one hand and gently ran her fingers over a scratch that trailed a line of blood over Buffy's cheek. It was the blood of her best friend, the friend that she had selfishly convinced the others to help her pull out of Heaven. After all, that really was where her friend had been resting, at peace - and if Willow was completely honest with herself, she had to admit that it was where, deep down, she had always known Buffy to be.

"Willow," Buffy sighed, her hand lifting until it gently covered the one that tenderly cupped her cheek, "I was willing to let you all go this time in order to do what was right. Now you need to make things right. You know this."

For a moment more, silence settled over the room as twin trails of tears poured down Willow's pale cheeks. She had done this. She was responsible for it all. "I don't know how," she murmured, her eyes never once leaving Buffy's.

"Yes you do. You've always known."

Started for the second time that night by yet another familiar voice that had no place being there, Buffy turned and stared at the man who stood in the open archway behind her. "Whistler," she murmured, her green eyes taking in the man's familiar, gaudy suit and the large bowler hat that was perched jauntily above his thinning hair, not looking a day older than the time she had first met him close to five years ago. "What, is this an episode of 'This Is Your Life'?" she snapped. "Are any other unexpected guests going to be dropping by? Maybe my kindergarten teacher?" she continued as she turned and crossed her arms across her chest, a small scowl pulling at her lips.

"Friend of yours, B?" Faith asked as she turned narrowed eyes upon the man. "'Cause while I know that I've been out of the game for some time now, I can still tell the difference between what's human and what's not. And this guy's definitely not."

Sighing, Buffy wearily shook her head as she lifted her small hands to massage her aching head, ignoring the frightened girls that quickly scurried away from the unexpected guest. "He's not," she muttered as she finally lifted her head to glare at the small man. "Whistler's a balance demon," she stated, and when everyone continued to look to her in confusion, Buffy curtly shook her head once more. "He works for the Powers That Be to keep the balance," she explained, frowning softly. "Which just begs the question: if everything's so out of whack, why didn't you come sooner?"

"Hey, don't look at me," Whistler quickly protested as he patted his hands against the front of his pea-green suit. "The witch and the watcher were given all the clues - they just refused to put it together."

"And how many innocent girls did you let die in the meantime?" Buffy snapped, her eyes narrowing upon the little man.

"We didn't intend for it to happen this way," he countered, his words soft.

"Yeah, apparently you guys don't intend for a lot of things to happen. Yet they always seem to happen, don't they?" Buffy muttered as she tried to ignore the memories of the last time that she had seen the balance demon. The first and last time - the day that he had told her that the Powers That Be had never intended for her and Angel to fall in love... and that because of that love, they had mucked up everything and allowed Angelus' return. It was the day that he had told her to kill her lover.

Ignoring her question, Whistler nodded towards the red-headed witch. "You were right - sort of," he stated before turning back towards the petite slayer. She looked so much older than the last time they had met... so much older and worn by time and the battles that she had fought. She had come a long way. Far further than anyone had intended for her to go. "Killing Buffy would send her back to where she was, but it won't restore the balance. To do that, you three need to undo what you've done," he continued as he included the dark-haired man and the slender ex-demon in his patient gaze.

"The Urn of Osiris is broken," Willow protested. "We can't-"

"It doesn't matter," Whistler cut in. "The spell can still be done."

"But I can't control where I'd be sending her!" Willow argued as she darted a quick glance at the small slayer.

"And you won't. We will."

Startled, Buffy quickly lifted her head and stared at the balance demon, a cold feeling beginning to twist her stomach. "You'd control where I'll go?" she demanded, her tongue darting out to moisten lips that were becoming painfully dry.

Sighing, Whistler sadly looked at the small slayer as he slowly shook his head. "Sorry kid, but you died and were out of the game. You were out of our hands. But Red and her sidekicks brought you back," he explained as he shrugged his rounded shoulders. "The Powers aren't about to let one of their best warriors get away again now that they have you back. All I know is that you'll go to where you're needed. Besides that, it's outta my hands."

Eyes slipping closed, Buffy felt a tremble ripple through her small frame as her mind tried to grasp what she was being told. They had to send her away to make things better. She had off-set the balance on their world, had tipped the scale towards the side of good and the First Evil had been able to compensate as it launched a war against the line of the Slayers. And she had to go away to.. to somewhere in order to restore the balance. She had to set things right.

Muscles tensing, Buffy opened her eyes and looked around her, seeing the faces of so many young, scared girls that had their watchers killed before their eyes, their families taken away, and had traveled around the world to find safety at her side. There were so many of them, and they would all die if she didn't do this. In that regard, there was no option at all. "It doesn't matter what happens to me," she stated as she pierced the short balance demon with her glare. "Will it restore the balance?"

"Yes," Whistler confirmed, a small, sad smile pulling at his lips as he watched the fiery spark return to the slayer's eyes. That spark was what made this small girl such a powerful asset to the Powers - an asset for which he had been sent down to this world to preserve for their use.

"Then let's do it," Buffy returned, her fiery gaze meeting Willows, holding her gaze - warring with it in a way that allowed no room for argument from the witch or any of her friends. The gaze lasted a moment, and then a moment more before the red-headed witch hesitantly nodded her agreement - and then the room once more slid towards chaos as Dawn's heart-rending shrieks began to echo above the din as she tried to rush towards her big sister, the potentials moving in to hold her back. Meanwhile, Willow turned to Xander and the others and began directing them to different areas of the house in order to gather the needed supplies, the young witch barking her orders as she took charge. And through it all, Buffy watched the chaos through saddened green eyes.

"Hey, you sure about this?"

Turning, Buffy smiled at the dark-haired girl that stood before her. Faith. Her sister slayer. "Thank you for everything," she murmured, ignoring Faith's concerned question as she gently took the taller girl's hand in her own.

"Hey, no big," Faith quickly demurred as she allowed her hand to be squeezed once before quickly pulling it away.

"No, it is," Buffy countered, her smile slipping as she turned to look with wide, tired eyes at the girls that rushed around them. "This won't trigger a new slayer and you're going to be all the world has. Take care of them," she whispered, her eyes slipping back to Faith's as the other girl nodded once before quickly turning away and disappearing into the throng.

"This isn't right, you know?"

Smiling, Buffy turned around once more, this time coming face to face with Spike as he glowered down at her. "None of this is right," Buffy agreed as she shrugged her small shoulders. "Which is why we need to set it right."

"S'not what I meant, and you know it," Spike argued, a small scowl twisting his handsome features.

"I know," Buffy agreed as she gently moved onto the tips of her toes and pressed a soft kiss against the cool skin of his cheek. "But it's the way it has to be. You'll remember your promise, right?" she asked as she pulled away, gently reaching a hand up to brush away the tears that were beginning to trail a path towards his chin.

"To the end of the world and back," Spike promised, his eyes turning away to look to where Dawn continued to rage against the girls that were holding her back. "The Bit will never want for nothing."

"I know," Buffy sighed, her smile faltering as she followed his gaze, her heart breaking at the frantic, terrified expression that twisted her little sister's features. "I know," she murmured as she absently squeezed Spike's arm before slowly moving forward, the Potentials parting around her and finally releasing their hold on Dawn's arms. Yet instead of surging forward, Dawn instead began to pull back as Buffy drew closer until she could go no further, her back pressed against the wall.

"I-I never told you," Dawn stammered as she tilted her head down to look at her older sister. "I-I never told you what mom said that night when she came to me," she continued as the tears streaked down her pale cheeks. "She-she said that... that when it's bad, you wouldn't choose me."

"And she was right," Buffy admitted as she gently pulled her little sister into a tight embrace. "Dawnie, I can't let the world go again," she whispered as her sister clung to her, her sobs shaking them both as Buffy gently ran her fingers through her sister's long hair. "I love you, but I can't do it again. Do you understand?"

Sniffling, Dawn slowly pulled away, her hand never quite leaving her sister's shoulder as she tried to hang on for just a little bit longer. "I-I never realized that it meant this," she admitted as she ran her hand beneath her watery nose.

Sighing, Buffy slowly drew her sister close in another bone-crushing hug as she brushed a kiss against her bowed head. "It'll be better this time," she murmured, her words low and soothing - or so she hoped. "We've had more time together. You just need to stay with the others and be good. Dawnie, you're strong now - you can do this."

"I know," Dawn murmured, and to her surprise, she meant it. Slowly pulling away, she felt the tears dry on her cheeks as she looked at her sister through puffy brown eyes. "I know," she repeated as Willow called to Buffy from across the room.

Smiling, the slayer gently squeezed her sister's shoulder before moving to Willow's side as Xander joined them. "Have everything?"

"I-I think so," Willow stammered as she frantically looked over the different magical implements that were gathered in the arms of a few potentials. "I just.. I just don't want to-"

"Hey, we need to do this," Buffy cut in as she allowed Xander to pull them both in a fierce hug - the three original Scoobies, together for the last time. "I need to go," she continued as she gently pulled away. "You guys gave me two more years, but it's time for me to leave, for good this time."

Sniffling around her tears, Willow quickly nodded her head and forced herself to turn away. "We-we just need to g-go back. To the graveyard," she explained between hitching breaths as she began shepherding the girls towards the door.

Nodding, Buffy was about to follow when Faith tugged at her arm, her expression tense as her dark eyes darted around the rapidly-emptying room. "B, I can feel something.. something's coming," she whispered as she allowed Buffy to pull her towards the door, falling into step behind the impressively large group of girls.

Eyes narrowing, Buffy nodded her agreement. "It's the Uber-Vamps," she agreed as her pace began to quicken. "They're coming - go faster."