One by one, each member of the group stood in his own tense daze, wandering off to prepare or rest elsewhere in the house and leaving Willow and Buffy on the couch.

"You didn't put yourself closest to me just because you're the strongest, to protect me, did you?" said Willow softly, "I mean, there'll be the barrier."

Buffy answered with a stoic glance.

"Buffy," said Willow, "I know you know this, but, if something happens… If I… If I can't handle it and I go dark? I need you to stop me. Whatever it takes. And I know you will—I trust you. And Faith might try to stop you, but you gotta. Don't let me hurt anyone, Buff. Don't you dare. Okay?"

Buffy placed a comforting, resolute hand on her friend's shoulder, "I won't, Will."

Willow paced anxiously around the house for a while, tidying up for no reason other than to calm her nerves. She found Xander in the kitchen, not packing weapons or whittling stakes, but filling a bag with snacks and electrolytes to keep their energy up during the battle.

"Hey Xand," she said.

"Hey Wills," said Xander, unwrapping a protein bar for himself, "So you're the front-page story this apocalypse. You excited?"

"I thought I was the front-page story last apocalypse," said Willow.

"Yeah, but that was one of those tabloids."

He took a bite of his energy bar and offered another to Willow, who declined with a wave of her hand. She held her stomach and grimaced.

"Okay, so you're nervous," said Xander, "Don't worry, though. You're not gonna go bad again."

"How do you know?"

"'Cause been there, done that." Xander shrugged, "I mean, it'd just be kinda repetitive, plot-wise."

"Xand," said Willow, "You know we don't live in a TV show, right?"

"But doesn't it help a little to imagine we do? Seriously, though. You're gonna be fine, because you're Willow. You're monster-fighting, computer-hacking, soul-restoring, deer-saving, impossible-doing Willow, and I love you."

Willow could do nothing, then, but embrace him and mumble, "I love you, too."

The door to Dawn's room was open, and as Willow passed by it she saw the teenager flipping, focused, through pages of a large, old grimoire—one that Willow herself was only vaguely familiar with.

"Whatcha doing?" said Willow, stepping into the room. She was awkward about it, cautious, like a vampire who was unsure of her invitation status.

"Trying to memorize as many demons as I can," said Dawn. She pointed at various illustrations, "This guy dies by fire, this guy's a knife to the chest. This one? Decapitation."

"You can memorize all that?" said Willow.

"Kinda," said Dawn.

Willow covered the open page of the book with her arm, "Sinistro Demon?"

"Cut off the left hand, very specific."

Willow uncovered the page and checked her work, "Huh."

Dawn tapped her head, "Steel trap."

"I think the word is eidetic."

"I think the word is genius," Dawn laughed, "Kidding. But maybe if you guys'd've let me help sooner. You're not the only one who can do the research gal thing, y'know?" She stood to look Willow in the eyes, "Hey. Thanks for convincing Buffy to start giving me a chance."

"I didn't want you to end up like me," said Willow, "I didn't want them to hide you from all this, like Giles tried to hide magick from me. Sometimes I wonder… Well, I wonder what would have happened if Giles had encouraged it, or if Ms. Calendar had never been killed and she trained me to use magick the right way. Maybe none of this woulda happened. Maybe Tara would still be alive."

"Will, you are talking to a teenager who is actually a three-year-old mystical key that, among other things, got her own sister killed. I'm well-acquainted with the 'what-if' line of thinking, and it really goes nowhere." She took Willow's hand in her own, "Whatever got us here, we have you. And we need you to stop the Hellmouth— No, we need you, period. All of us. And that's what counts. And Tara would think so, too. So promise me you won't get hurt tonight, okay?"

"Only if you promise, too," said Willow, "Show Buffy what you're made of, but don't get hurt. Alright?"

"Deal," said Dawn.

Later, Willow sat at the dining table, eyes glued to her laptop screen. She scrolled through the amateurish webpage, reading up on alternate dimensions and different planes of existence. It wasn't much she hadn't read before, and what material she could find seemed focused only on scientific theory. There weren't any details about how to channel that kind of power magically, and consensus on the witchcraft forums she used to frequent seemed to be that doing so on a regular basis was too tough for even some of the message board's most experienced witches. Despite the lack of information, however, Willow felt the need to at least try to fill in the gaps of what Ms. Calendar had told her through rigorous research.

The words on the screen were just starting to blur when Willow was flung from her daze by a white envelope falling over her keyboard. She picked it up, bewildered, "What's this?"

It was Anya who stood on the other side of her laptop, "A bonus."

"A bonus?" said Willow, opening the envelope, "Anya, I don't work for you." She found a check inside and looked back at the demon, who grinned expectantly. Willow sighed and pulled out the check, eyes bulging when she read the amount, "Anya, where the hell did this come from?"

"The website you made is doing splendidly," said Anya, "I daresay I have more capital than I did before, and now I don't even have to pay rent on the storefront! Online shopping is the way of the future, I can tell you that. I wanted to show you my appreciation for your help before we all die fiery deaths."

"Oh," said Willow, "Uh, thanks." She held the check back out to the other woman, "Listen, just give this straight to Buffy. Consider it back-rent."

"Buffy doesn't make you pay rent," said Anya.

"Well, I wanna," said Willow.

"You want to have less money? Do you also send money to those sad dogs in the commercials and starving kids in third-world countries? That doesn't seem like a very responsible investment."

"Oh Anya," said Willow, rolling her eyes, "Always with a heart of gold. Seriously, give it to Buffy." She tapped her fingers nervously on her keyboard, averting her gaze, "And, um, my will still leaves everything to Tara; I never had a chance to change it. But, um, if I don't make it out of there, 'cause I might not, just, uh, make sure whatever I have goes to Buffy and Dawn, okay?"

Anya was going to say something about how she should be included in Willow's verbal will, because, after all, she was a great friend, and they'd known each other for nearly five years, and they'd done spells together before Willow even met Tara, but one look at the witch's eyes told her this was more serious than an ill-mannered quip about her capitalist ideology. "Yeah," said Anya, "Okay."

Willow knew she wouldn't be able to use magick to fight, would have to save her power, so she decided to take a moment to brush up on her physical combat skills with the dummy in the training range out back.

But Faith was already there, punching away. And there was something in her eyes besides the usual anger and lust for the kill: it was focus, control. It was a little strange, like that kind of discipline didn't belong on the dark Slayer's face.

"Oh," said Faith, halting her attack once she noticed Willow. She gestured towards the dummy, "Did you wanna?"

"That's okay," said Willow, turning quickly to head back the way she came, "I'll train later."

"No," said Faith, stepping away from the dummy and undoing the boxing wraps from one of her hands, "Don't worry about it. I'll get outta your hair."

"Really, Faith. It's okay." Willow threw up her hands dismissively.

"No it's not," said Faith, words hasty and jumbled, "I mean, you're the one who really needs to train. You know, 'cause I'm a Slayer, I've got built-in pummel-powers. But you? Even though you've got all that voodoo in you, you're still just a person. I think everyone forgets sometimes, I forget, that you're a person. So you have to train, right, so you don't get hurt, because you're just a normal person. You break easily. You can get hurt. So that's why it's not okay."

Willow sucked in a breath and furrowed her brows, "I think we're talking about something else."

"I know you're sick of 'sorry'," muttered Faith, "But I know I was wrong."

Willow smiled softly, though it didn't quite reach her eyes, "Okay." She glanced down at Faith's hand as the Slayer unwrapped it, "Goddess, your hand—"

Faith looked at the scarred tissue on her palm, "Oh. Don't worry, it doesn't hurt anymore or nothing. Anyway, you don't gotta forgive me or anything like that. I just wanted you to know that I know it was wrong."

"'Forgive' is a stupid word," said Willow. "What's to give? Like the forgiver has to give something up, like it's their job to look past whatever the forgivee screwed up. But, like, it's not their job to give away their forgiveness. It's my job to earn it. Y'know?"

"Maybe that's why the two of us are walking into the apocalypse and staring Hell in the face tonight," said Faith, "To earn forgiveness."

"Maybe," said Willow. She stepped towards Faith, and the Slayer flinched, "Gimme your hand, Faith."

Tentatively, Faith held her hand out and Willow took it.

The witch shut her eyes and breathed deep, power trickling elegantly from her fingers.

"Hey, what are you doing?" said Faith as her scars started to fade before her eyes, "I thought you had to save your magick for the fight."

"Don't worry about that," said Willow, "I want to. I want to fix whatever I can; it might be my last chance." The scars were gone, and Willow sighed and removed her hands from Faith's, "Thank you for saving me last night even though I was being a jerk."

"You have every right to be a jerk after what I did," said Faith, "And of course I wasn't gonna let you get eaten out there. I wasn't gonna let anything happen to you, Will. I won't, I—"

"Yeah, I know," said Willow, "Anyway, seriously. You use the dummy, I can train later."

Faith bit her lip as Willow turned to leave, "Or…"

Willow whipped back around, "What?"

"We can, you know…" Faith eyed Willow's hands, suggestive.

But not in the way it would have been before. She was suggesting something else. "Train together?" said Willow, "Like, for real this time, right? Not as a lazy alibi to cover up gay sexy times?"

"I get it if you don't wanna," said Faith, "It's just, I know you like training with Buffy and you gotta be ready for tonight, and that way we can both train at the same time, and I've been really working on the control thing and I think it'll help be to have someone else to–" She was cut off by a foot flying at her face.

Her Slayer reflexes caught it, and she looked up to see Willow with her leg extended, fists at the ready.

"You sure?" said Faith.

"What? You scared, Slayer?"

And they fought, Willow impressed by Faith's control and Faith impressed by Willow's skill. Willow couldn't help but grin, forgetting for a moment about the apocalypse that waited for them that night.

Amy still preferred the dark, dank corners of the world. From Rack's den to the pits inside the Hellmouth, she considered that maybe it was leftover from her time as a rat, but then again there were also those days she spent hiding in closets as a kid, just to get away from her mom. But whatever the reason for her affinity for the dingy and cramped, it made sense that she was now in Buffy's basement, mixing potions and powders and studying scrolls.

She twitched, rather rodent-like, when she heard footsteps descending the stairs.

"I'm sorry about your mom," came a voice. Willow stepped into the basement, hair still wet from her post-workout shower.

"Don't be," said Amy, "She was bad even before the Sophomore year 'switch-craft'."

"Yeah, I know," said Willow, "I remember. But she's still your mom. You know, you're connected to her. Your magicks, your souls. Even I can feel something missing, a hole in the ether where her power used to be. I know you feel it too."

"It feels like a relief," said Amy, "Maybe that's why I was… the way I was. I think I knew she was still out there. Waiting, watching. I could feel her; I was terrified. I felt it in my gut, that she'd claw her way back here and come after me. I couldn't deal, I had to distract myself."

"Rack," said Willow.

"And you," said Amy.

Willow winced, "You're not in love with me too, are you?"

Amy quirked an eyebrow, "What?"

"Nothing."

"Not to go against the stereotype," said Amy, "But this sorceress is straight as a board. I just mean, you know, you were a good friend. You were there for me when we were kids and you were there for me when I finally recovered from the rat thing. Having you around, it made me feel like a normal girl with normal friends. I guess that's why I wouldn't let you go. I guess that's why I was so pissed off when everything happened."

"I get that," said Willow, "I, too, have been known to be the clingy type. And I'm really sorry it took me so long to change you back. I did try, you know, a couple of years ago, before Glory sucked Tara's mind. But it wasn't until I was all up in the black arts that it actually worked."

"I know," said Amy, "I'm sorry I tried to kill you."

"It was your mom," said Willow, "She manipulated you,"

"No she didn't," said Amy, "It wasn't my mom. It wasn't the magicks, or the Hellmouth. It was me. For once in my life I made one damn decision for myself, and I accept that and that's why I'm here. To make up for that decision, to make another decision, and to get more than one shitty year of post-rat existence on this stupid apocalypse-prone Earth."

"It's gonna be dark over there," said Willow, "Are you sure you'll be able to handle it?"

"I'll be fine," said Amy, "I don't have that much power, not enough for it to control me like that, and I'm used to all that Hellmouth energy 'cause I've been huffing it like there's no tomorrow."

"'Cept now there really might be no tomorrow," Willow muttered.

"Yeah," said Amy, "Are you gonna be okay? You'll be right there in the center of it. This stuff killed my mom, Will. We're not talking pretty little acid trips on Rack's ceiling."

"I won't go dark," said Willow, but she looked like she was trying to convince herself, too, "I won't go dark."

"It's not just about going dark. Don't get hurt either," said Amy, "This is the thing that took down Catherine the Great, and you'll be getting the purest dose possible. Just be careful."

"Since when do you care about my wellbeing, Amy?"

"I don't have a lot left in my life," said Amy, "You're the closest thing I still have to a friend."

Exhausted and needing to rest before the battle, Willow dragged herself to her room. But she was surprised by what she found there: just like he had been in England all those months ago when he'd told her that it was time to return home, now Giles was sitting on Willow's bed, grave, eyes glazed and a little teary, staring at the wall.

"Shouldn't you be prepping?" said Willow, "Or resting?"

Giles just sighed and stared. Willow could sense his distress, figured she knew what this was about. She came and sat next to him.

"You…" he struggled to get the words out, "You saw Jenny?"

"We talked," said Willow, "I guess… I guess I'm, like, connected to her or something."

"Connected to her?" said Giles. There was a tiny bit of hope in his voice.

"Connected to everything," Willow explained with a shrug, "She said I'm special, that living on the Hellmouth turned me into some kinda inter-dimensional powerhouse. I'm connected to everything, in every universe, all the time. Apparently."

"Like Dawn?" said Giles.

Willow thought for a moment, "Dawn's the key. The Hellmouth's a door. I'm…" She cocked her head, "I guess the thing about me is that I don't need a key. Or a door. Uh, something like that." She chuckled, "If Glory had known…"

"It's incredible," said Giles, "How does it feel?"

"It just feels like me," said Willow, "How do the rest of you feel?"

"Blind in comparison, I can only imagine," said Giles. He paused, "How is she? Jenny."

"She misses you," said Willow, "And she said she's proud of us, and that you've done a great job. She didn't say with what, though."

"With all of you, I'm sure," said Giles, "Though I can't help but feel I've made some horrendous mistakes along the way."

"Well, it brought us here," said Willow, echoing Dawn's sentiments, "And we have exactly what we need to stop the Hellmouth, so I guess something happened right, even if a lot of it happened wrong."

"I haven't heard you so optimistic in years," said Giles.

"Inside I'm spazzing out," said Willow, "This is gonna be hard."

"You can do it," said Giles.

Willow turned away, "You know, Miss Harkness—"

"I know," said Giles, "One of the other witches called me. A seer had a vision about you."

"You know?" said Willow, "And you're still alright with me doing this?"

"We don't have a choice," said Giles, "And, more than that: I believe in you, Willow. You gave me my powers back; you did the right thing on impulse, without even trying. I know you can do this."

Tears welled in Willow's eyes and she collapsed into him in a hug that lasted too long.

"I ought to get some rest," said Giles, "We'll likely be fighting all night long."

Willow reluctantly ended the embrace as Giles stood. With another hopeful, prideful, tearful glance at his pupil, he turned and left, shutting the door behind him.

Willow sat for a moment, lost in lack-of-thought. She stared at her closet, and felt compelled to approach it. She went into the suitcase she'd brought from England and pulled out the one thing she'd never unpacked.

It was the Doll's Eye Crystal. Her mind flashed to her awful dream and she flinched at the memory. But that thought was quickly replaced with more pleasant ones as she investigated the stone's glassy surface, turning it over nervously in her hands and remembering the woman that gave it to her.

"Tara…" she said.

She stared at the rock for a long time, not really having much to say but wanting to feel her near. She frowned.

"Ms. Calendar says that I'm connected to everything," said Willow, "Like, everything-everything. Like every universe and every plane of existence, every version of myself and my friends and, and every chocolate chip cookie and every bagel…" She grinned cheekily, imagined Tara doing the same.

"Isn't that whacky?" Willow continued, "Little ol' me. All with the power and the trans-dimensional badassery. But you always knew, didn't you? When I met you, and you gave me this pretty rock, and you told me how powerful I was. I thought you were just being nice but… you could always see it, couldn't you? Even if you didn't know what you were seeing. When you looked at me, and saw the… the flow of my energy and stuff, like how you knew that Buffy wasn't Buffy and all that. You really knew, and that's why you were so scared of me.

"I finally get it. I'm scared of me, too. But, Tare, and I get it if you don't want to, but if I'm connected to everything, everywhere… Well, just tonight, it would really help if… if I could be connected to you, too. Just for a sec. I… I need your light."

Suddenly, the ground shook again, and Willow cried out in surprise. She dropped the stone, and it shattered like glass on the floor.