For the next few days, Willow threw herself into research—or tried to, anyway. Now she sat on the couch with some rather vague volumes, cross-legged and surrounded by translation dictionaries, notebooks, and her laptop.

"Whoa," said Buffy as she descended the stairs, "What're you studying for?"

"The apocalypse," said Willow, "It's why I'm here, isn't it?"

"Right," said Buffy, "Giles says he's working on stuff in England—we've been a little lost in the research department without either of you. Dawn's been helping a bit but she's at school all day. We've barely made a dent in any of the texts we still…" Buffy winced a little as the words left her mouth, "...have…"

Willow winced too, biting her lip and casting her gaze back down to the book in her lap instead.

"Well, uh," Buffy cleared her throat, "How's it coming?"

Willow groaned in frustration. "Bad," she said, "These texts don't go into any depth. It's like, 'I Can Read' Demonology."

"Giles has more books at his place," said Buffy, "We haven't had a chance to go over there and look through them yet. Wouldn't even know what to look for. But if you are looking for grimoires above a fifth grade reading level, that might be the place to start."

Willow closed the book before her and placed it on the coffee table, "Okay, yeah. That's a good idea. I'll go to Giles', see what I can find over there. I think we might be dealing with a witch."

"Well hey," said Buffy, "That'd make it easy for us!" Willow cocked her head at her, and Buffy continued: "Y'know, 'cause we have the scariest, most badass witch around."

Willow was distressed at the description, and Buffy could tell.

"I just mean," Buffy added awkwardly, "Y'know, you know so much about it. Like, if it was a Vengeance Demon, Anya would really help us out. Or an evil carpenter, that would be Xander's wheelhouse."

"...Right," said Willow.

"Evil Slayer. Been there, done that," Buffy rambled, "Evil Giles? Ethan Rayne?"

"Buffy, it's okay," said Willow, "If I'm a scary, badass witch, we better flippin' use me, darn it!" Her shoulders straightened as she stood, grabbing her jacket from the hook by the door, "I'll go to Giles', and we'll figure out what demon or witch or evil carpenter is doing this. And then we'll kick the appropriate butt."

"Alright, Will," said Buffy, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a ring of keys. She tossed it to Willow, "Be careful."


When Willow got to Giles' house, she hesitated briefly at the door. It was the last place she'd seen of Sunnydale, after all, before her trip to England. It was all so foggy, how she was taken from Kingman's Bluff and ended up in Giles' care, how he spoke to her like she was a child, explained to her the gravity of what had happened, and how all she could pay attention to was the way the black and blue and red on his face stood out to her against a gray world.

And it wasn't all fatherly gentleness, either. Her magicks were haywire, her mood unpredictable. Glass shattering, electronics short-circuiting, the temperature of the air shifting unnaturally. He'd made her drink a potion, she vaguely recalled. Something to quiet her powers, though he hadn't told her what it was. And when she refused, out of stubborn confusion more than anything else, though something in the mind feared it was poison, he'd held her down—both were weak, but he'd always been physically stronger than her. He'd pinned her to the wall and pinched her nose, and when her mouth opened to take a breath he poured the vile-tasting potion violently down her throat, not stopping even as she gagged and sputtered.

The memory was so much clearer now than it had ever been—was it because she now stood before the home where it happened?

She almost turned away—the shame and embarrassment of the memories repelling her. But then she heard a sound, a light thud like something had fallen. She realized she sensed something; something felt wrong. Evil? No, evil wasn't right.

She opened the door, prepared to find… something. But, whatever something she expected, it was not the vengeance demon she spotted rifling through Giles' bookshelves.

"Anya?" Willow asked.

Anya whipped around, caught red-handed and cheeks just as rosey, "Willow! You're back!"
"Yeah," said Willow, "How'd you get in here?"

"Vengeance demon. Teleporting. Doors aren't really a problem for me."

"Right. Okay," said Willow, "Why are you here?"

"Same reason as you, probably," said Anya, "After you royally destroyed my place of business, Giles' apartment is the only source of any real meaty texts around town."

"What do you need texts for?" said Willow. Anya didn't respond, and Willow noticed she was wearing a robe. She glanced around the apartment—dirty dishes on the coffee table and women's clothes strewn across the couch, "Oh my Goddess. Anya, are you living here?"

"No!" said Anya, defensive, "Just… temporarily crashing. For three months."

"But why?" said Willow, "You're a demon! Don't you live… where demons live?"

"Hey!" said Anya, "I've become used to a certain… standard of living during my time as a human, and D'hoffryn's hell dimension just isn't gonna do it for me. Ever since you destroyed the Magick Box, I've had no work. No income!" She stifled a dramatic sob, "I don't wanna talk about it. Anyway, what was I supposed to do?"

"You should have just asked Giles," said Willow, "He would have said yes."

"To a Vengeance Demon bunking in his house? I don't know," said Anya.

"Come on," Willow said, "You guys got close eventually. Right?"

"I mean," Anya said, "I did stay with him when he was on the brink of death after you sucked out all of his magicks."

That sent anxiety to Willow's chest, but she ignored it, "Sorry I mind-controlled you and then knocked you out. And also destroyed the Magick Box."

"Apology not accepted," said Anya quite bluntly, "Yet."

"I won't tell Giles you're staying here," said Willow.

"Tell him if you want," Anya said, "If he wants me to leave he'll have to fly back here and make me leave himself. And he won't be able to. Because I'm a vengeance demon."

"Right," Willow said.

"So why are you here?" asked Anya.

"Just like you said, I needed some books," Willow said, "I'm sure you've noticed the big scary earthquakes and the big 'ole holes opening up across town?"

"End of the world, right?"

"Yeah," Willow said, "I think a witch might be doing it. Wanted to see if Giles had some books that could help us out."

"Because you destroyed the rest of them."

"I know what I did, Anya," Willow said, "You don't have to keep reminding me."

"Yes I do," said Anya, "You don't get to just forget when the rest of us are still dealing with the consequences. People are dead because of you. You destroyed my livelihood. You did terrible things."

Willow looked down in shame, but then her expression shifted to anger, "What about all the junk you've done, Anya? Big evil wishes, killing people and all that? You got to become a better person."

"Guess what?" Anya said, "I don't care about any of that. Remind me all you want. Vengeance is what I do, and I'll do it again. But if you're gonna be all guilty about everything, your suffering brings me mild joy."

"Wow," said Willow, "I never liked you, Anya. And I'm glad you and Xander aren't together."

"Right," Anya scoffed, "'Cause now you can have him all to yourself. I heard all about it. He told the story over and over again to anyone who would listen. I know all about how he saved the world by telling you how much he loves you."

"He's not mine! Still gay, remember?"

"I don't care if he loves you as a friend or as a partner or as a goddamned zumba instructor. When it was time to declare his unconditional love for me he ran away, but even when you were veiny and evil, about to destroy the world, he could still say it to you. And I hate that."

"I'm sorry, Anya," Willow said, "If it helps, I beat him up a little while he did it."

"It doesn't help," Anya said, "But thanks for trying."

Willow sighed and sat on the couch.

"What about the books?" Anya asked.

"Nevermind them. I don't want to think about magick right now."

"Oh," said Anya, "Don't play that with me. I know what it's like to have power. You're always thinking about magick. Have to, or else you'll lose control."

"You got me pegged, Anya," said Willow.

Anya pulled out a book, "This one is about dimensional magick," she said, "Could be useful. Since we are dealing with the Hellmouth. Hell dimensions."

"Heh," Willow snickered sadly, "That was one of the things that forced us apart. Dimensional magick. I was using it all willy-nilly."

Anya knew she was talking about Tara, "It's powerful stuff."

"Do you remember…" Willow said, "Do you remember when we met? That spell you had me do?"

"The dimensional fold," said Anya, "Yeah. It was my last chance to get my powers back."

"One of my first spells-gone-awry," said Willow, "Doing that, transporting vampire-me from a whole other dimension… seeing that darkness and coming out the other side… I think that's part of how it started. You know, messing with powerful magicks, not being afraid of the darkness."

"Are you blaming me, now?" asked Anya, "For your insanity?"

"No!" said Willow, "I guess I'm just always trying to figure out where it all went wrong."

"How'd you get started on the magick anyhow?"

"Oh, you know," said Willow, "First I re-ensouled Buffy's ex, Angel. And then, you know, I started reading up more on it but I don't think I ever really understood it. That summer I tried to contact the spirit world—hello dimensional magick again—and it was totally freaky. Blew the power on the block. But I don't think I cared, though. There were always these warning signs. That, and the thing with vampire me, and Giles was always hiding books from me, telling me not to mess with it… Remember the haunted house? My big fear was literally my magick getting out of control. It's like the universe kept screaming at me to stop, and I just never listened. Why have I always just ignored everything? I was never meant to do magick."

"Look," said Anya, "You could have gone your whole life without ever casting. You could have just been a normal girl with no idea about your latent abilities. Hell, I've thought the same thing about myself! But there's no 'meant to', okay? You make your own damn path. That's why we are the badass broads we are, right? No offense to Buffy, but she let a buncha men decide her destiny. You and me gave ourselves power, and don't you dare feel guilty about that."

"Wow, Anya," said Willow, "That was weirdly motivational."

"I know," said Anya, "Now. Would you take your books and go? I've got chores to do."

"Okay, okay," said Willow, "Thanks, Anya."

"One last thing," Anya muttered, "Don't, uh, tell Xander about this? You know, me living here. I want him to think I'm a big hot shot living it up in Hell."

"You got it, Anya."