"I think you need to slay her,"Anya declared in a resentful tone. She was sitting on the couch beside Xander, one arm cradling her sore, bruised stomach. His arms were around her, holding her, both of them deeply troubled and shaken by their encounter with the former Slayer.

Dawn sat on the coffee table facing them, her young face uncertain and afraid. She may have been thrust into being the Slayer, but she had no idea yet how to go about it.

As if she had read her thoughts, Anya went on, "You're the Slayer, now, right? And she's – she's obviously not Buffy anymore!"

"She said – she said Buffy is dead," Xander inserted, his voice trembling over the words, painful to speak.

Dawn drew in a sharp, involuntary breath, the words hitting her like a physical blow. Spike had been standing in the doorway, listening to the conversation, but not joining it. Now, he went to stand behind Dawn, placing his hands gently on her shoulders. She leaned back against him, grateful for his steady strength.

"So now she's a – a vampire vampire-slayer," Anya observed suddenly. "And if you slayer her, you'll be the vampire vampire-slayer slayer. Unless you lose and she turns you, and then you'll be…"

"Ahn!" Xander said sharply, his eyes focused on Dawn's pale, stricken face.

"What?" She was surprised and hurt by the edge in his voice. He looked into her eyes and relented slightly. When Anya was nervous, she talked. That was just her way. And at the moment, it was clear in her eyes that she was terrified.

Xander put his hands on her arms and drew her in closer to him, saying in a softer voice, "Dawn doesn't need this right now."

"Maybe I do," Dawn broke in, her voice determined despite its trembling, though her eyes were filled with tears. "This is what Buffy had to do – isn't it?" she realized aloud, sudden clarity in her eyes as she looked at her sister's friends, now her friends. "Make decisions that hurt, like this. Like when she had to kill Angel."

"You're not going to have to kill her, pet," Spike assured her, though he was not sure himself. "She's still got some of herself left. Or she wouldn't have been able to come in here the other night. We'll help her, Bit."

"It may be too late for that," Xander said softly, and Spike silently cursed the whelp's oafish insensitivity to Dawn's needs of the moment, shooting him a venomous glare over Dawn's head.

"Well, he's right!" Anya spoke up in Xander's defense when she saw the look on Spike's face. "You didn't see her at the Magic Box! She hurt me, and threatened Xander – and she was so strong! She's dangerous, Spike. Very dangerous."

Spike was irritated; neither of them was catching on at all. He was very much aware that it could be too late to help Buffy. If she had let the evil take her over, as it was beginning to seem that she had, there could be nothing left but to slay her. Still, he wanted to try to protect Dawn's fragile, vulnerable emotions as long as he could. He looked to Tara in frustration.

She sat in the armchair, her arms folded loosely over her chest, her head down slightly, also just taking in the conversation without getting too involved in it. But Spike could see the worry in her eyes when they rose to meet his.

Their timing's terrible but they could be right, she spoke to him alone, in the privacy of his mind. Dawn may have to kill her sister.

Spike shook his head, so slightly that it was almost imperceptible to all but Tara, whose grey eyes were focused on his. That will never happen. I won't let it, he told her with grim determination.

She frowned up at him for a moment, not understanding. Then her eyes widened as she realized what he was saying, just before he confirmed it.

I'll do it myself before I'll let her have to do it.

Tara looked away, upset, not so much by his words as by the situation itself. Never mind the fact that physically even Spike was probably no match for this new super-vampire that Buffy had become. No matter how things played out, someone she loved was going to end up hurt.

She shared Spike's sentiment that forcing Dawn to stake her own sister was an unspeakably cruel turn of fate. But she knew that it would be very difficult for him to do as well – physically and emotionally. Although she was secure in his love for her now, she knew that Buffy had once been his whole world; he had lived for her, and almost died for her, would have, surely, if Tara had not intervened. That deep love he had held for her, in combination with the trauma of the past few months, could make staking Buffy a devastating thing for him to have to do.

But no more devastating for him than it would be for Dawn.

Unless there was still some part of Buffy left in the deadly vampiress who now called herself "Elizabeth", Tara thought hopefully. If they could find a way to reach her…

Giles was just returning from the kitchen, where he had gone to get a cup of tea. "Anya," he broke into her animated re-telling of her ordeal. "You said she took several books. Which volumes were they?"

"They were…um…" Anya tried to remember.

Giles sighed in frustration.

"Hey, mister! I've been traumatized!" Anya snapped defensively. "Excuse me if I didn't write down the titles, authors and Dewey decimal numbers of the books she took while she was threatening my life!"

"Just…try, Anya," Giles said in a tired voice full of forced patience.

"One of them was the Text of Dordanelle," she recalled, frowning in concentration. "And one was an astronomy book of some kind, about alignments of the stars and all that," she went on eagerly as the memory came back to her. "I can't remember what the last one was," she frowned, shaking her head after a moment.

"Did you happen to notice, Xander?" the older man asked, frowning as he considered her words.

"Sorry. I was just trying to keep us from getting killed," Xander shook his head apologetically.

Giles looked thoughtful as he said, "The text of Dordanelle is a book of very dark magic. It's not rare, really – not among vampires. It contains many very potent spells and such, most of which could potentially be very dangerous – if a vampire actually had the power to carry them out. Fortunately, as they also require a great deal of mystical energy, they're generally considered mostly harmless. They require more power than most vampires could ever hope to possess."

"Like, oh, say," Xander began with a sarcastic smile. "The power of a Slayer turned vampire?"

"Quite possibly," Giles nodded, his expression somber, and a little sick.

"Don't forget Angel…or I should say Angelus," Spike broke in quietly, with a brief pointed glance at Tara. "As I would say it's clear the great poof has somehow managed to lose his bloody soul again."

Giles nodded. "Otherwise he would not have been helping Buffy to terrorize her friends."

"He's a master vampire of the order of Aurelius," Spike went on, "and quite powerful in his own right."

"A few very powerful master vampires have managed to successfully complete a few of the simpler spells in the Dordanelle Text," Giles admitted. "Between Buffy and Angelus – we could have quite a problem on our hands. They just might have enough power, together, to perform some of the more dangerous rituals in the text." He paused.

"The astronomy book seems to indicate that whatever ritual she is planning to perform, must most likely be done at a specific time. It must require a specific alignment of the stars, or some such thing."

"Which means we're on a deadline here," Xander said darkly. "Except we don't know when it is."

"If we could just somehow get her contained, so we could talk to her," Tara said thoughtfully, rising to cross the room to Spike and Dawn – her little surrogate family. "I really feel like she must still be in there. I want to try and help her before we just start staking."

Dawn nodded slowly, hope showing in her huge sorrowful eyes again, in spite of her best efforts to hide it. Spike knew how she was feeling; it seemed easier to assume the worst than to be crushed by false hope again.

"Oh, that might not be so hard," Anya broke in. "She said she was planning on coming here." She looked at Spike. "To see you."

He felt his heart drop to the floor; his mouth went suddenly dry with fear, and he couldn't say a word. Immediately he felt Tara's soft, warm hand enclosing his, and her gentle voice in his head.

Steady, Baby. It's all right.

Just the sound of her voice had a calming effect on him; he squeezed her hand tight, desperately clinging to her, his lifeline in the midst of madness and terror.

If she comes and she's completely gone, Tara reasoned, slowly, calmly reassuring him, she won't be able to get in. And is she can get in – that means there's still a part of her that we can reach. And we will.

Dawn's hard voice startled them both as she said. "That – that thing tried to kill me. She hurt Anya. She isn't my sister anymore. If she tries to touch Spike – I will stake her."

Spike's hand on her shoulder tightened for a moment with affection. Her fierce loyalty to him was comforting and reassuring, but it troubled him to think of the terribly young, inexperienced Slayer attempting to take on such a dangerous enemy as this "Elizabeth" – especially if she was doing it to save him.

"Hopefully it won't come to that," Giles said softly, his eyes narrowed speculatively as he observed the dynamic between Dawn and the two people who stood protectively behind her.

One of them, Giles would not have technically even considered a "person" until recently. The things Tara had told him about the recent events had challenged his view of Spike as little more than an animal, capable of acting only on instinct and impulse, nothing more. It was not mere instinct that had driven him to risk his life to save Dawn on more than one occasion. And while a few of those times could have been attributed to his desire to impress Buffy, the recent ones could not.

What could account for his staying with Buffy for so long, in spite of the way she had abused him? His protecting and caring for Dawn, even after he had separated himself from Buffy? Giles had to admit that this particular vampire, at least, was subject to a vast complexity of very human thoughts and feelings.

"If she comes here," he began cautiously.

"When," Spike corrected quietly, his fear soothed for the moment by Tara's strong yet gentle presence. Now, there was only a grim resolve in his deep blue eyes.

"When she comes," Giles amended with a nod. "we should try if at all possible to restrain her without staking her. To see if it will be possible to reach her or not. If we can't…then we will have no other option but to – to eliminate the threat."

Sobered by the thought, the little group did not seem to have much to say after that. The meeting broke up shortly, with Xander and Anya going home to their apartment, and Giles returning to the hotel he was staying at.

Once they were alone, Spike, Tara, and Dawn talked a little more about what they would do when Buffy showed up. Spike and Dawn together had managed to make her back off before, though something told him that she would not be so easily discouraged this time around. Still, if they managed to catch her off guard, they just might be able to get her restrained. They decided that it would be safest for them all to sleep in the same room that night, so that Dawn and Spike would be together when Buffy showed up.

Dawn went upstairs to take a shower and get ready for bed before returning to the master bedroom, and Tara went down to the basement to find the set of manacles Buffy had kept there, the same set that had bound Spike twice – once only days before, when he had been Buffy's captive; and once years earlier, in Giles' bathtub.

He thought with a sad, ironic smile of how the tables had turned since then for him and Buffy. They were still mortal enemies, but their positions had been reversed, casting him in the ill-fitting role of hero, while she was the evil villain. He hoped against hope that that was not completely true.

He walked into the darkened master bedroom, not bothering to turn on the light. He could see as well as he needed to without it, due to his enhanced vampire senses. He crossed the room to the window, checking to be sure it was firmly locked. Buffy could easily break it and get in if she wanted to, but not without waking them, he thought with some satisfaction.

Before he could turn from the window, a strong arm slipped around him, pinning his arms to his sides, and another small, powerful hand covered his mouth tightly, silencing the cry that rose in his throat. A sick sense of déjà vu hit him, but he knew beyond all doubt that this was no dream, as he struggled against her, to no effect.

This was terrifyingly real.

As in his dream, he froze, paralyzed by the soft, familiar voice that had the power to strike such fear into his heart

"We need to talk," she whispered.