A/N: Just two (probably short) chapters left. I can't believe I managed to wrap this entire story up so neatly (she said, ignoring a thousand plot holes she most likely failed to notice). But, the biggest problem I had was deciding exactly how I wanted to end this. I toyed around with three possible endings, but in the end I decided on the one that would leave readers that least emotionally damaged. But, since the other two endings are pretty damn good, I've decided when the story is properly finished, I'll write and post the alternate endings for the sadists who just love to watch their favorite characters writhe. Look for that coming soon...ish.

Also, thank you for the reviews I received on the last chapter. I got a little bummed at first that no one had any remarks, good or bad, to say about it. I thought was because I did a terrible, weak job on the writing. But, eventually I got some motivating reviews, so thank you for the positive comments- I really needed them!

In the blink of an eye, Sam ungracefully slammed against the wall, collapsing into a heap as he slumped to the floor, and Castiel's hand clamped onto Ruby's neck. As their eyes met, rage and darkness swirled inside Castiel's eyes and Ruby tried to fight. A white, searing light filled Willow, burning the demon from inside, much like Buffy had done to Lilith. As she felt her soul, or whatever demons had, fracture and corrode away, she lamented for the beautiful dark world she had fought to bring forth, and shed a tear that she would never walk in it.

Free of the demon, Willow fell to her knees at Castiel's feet as the others spilled into the room. Sliding to a full throttle stop on his knees, stopping at her side, Dean lifted Buffy into his hand to inspect the damage.

"We must leave," Cas interrupted, "It will begin shortly."

There were no heartfelt I love you's exchanged. No grandiose, time stopping movie-esque goodbye kiss. Just Buffy's limp form cradled in his arms, unresponsive despite his shaking and calling of her name. She was gone before he could even touch her skin, meet her eyes, kiss her lips. Eyes wide, mouth slack, he fought the pressure compounding in his chest and head from reeling emotion so that she could think straight. But, no matter how rational he tried to be, only one answer came to him. There was only one way to fix this.

"Bring her back," Dean said in a small, broken voice that scared them all more than any fierce outburst.

"Dean…" Castiel protested, urgency in his tone.

"I said… BRING HER BACK!" Dean's rage exploded at a nuclear level.

"I'm still very weak from the sigil, Dean. I can save Buffy, or I can get us to safety," Cas countered, "We must leave."

"Save her," Dean threatened darkly, using the only real leverage he had, "or, I'll say yes."

"Listen to reason you stupid, Son of a Bitch!" Bobby barked, grabbing Dean by his collar sternly, "Ain't no time. We gotta leave!"

The blood was forming recognizable patterns on the floor beneath their feet.

"Michael!" Dean shouted, straining against Bobby's grip, holding his head towards the ceiling.

"You left me no choice," Cas replied, and placed his hand on Dean's head.

"Dean Winchester says yuh…"

Fallling on top of Buffy, Cas knew he would suffer Dean's wrath when he returned to the land of the living. But, Cas had mere seconds before the inevitable, and the wrath of an angry Winchester brother was still less than that of Lucifer, even if only slightly.

"Keep hold of Dean," Cas instructed to Bobby, then spun around to speak to the others scattered about him, "Leave no one behind—everyone take someone's hand, help the incapacitated," people moved swiftly in all directions, lifting the dead weight of unconscious bodies, or quickly reaching for hands, and Cas directed his attention to Giles, "Moving this many will drain my grace—I will watch over her here. You need to return so that you may watch over her there. Make sure she understands what she must do."

Nodding, Giles indicated he understood, and glanced back to the collapsed forms of Dean and Buffy. Unconsciously, Dean had protectively draped himself over Buffy when he had fallen to the floor, and Giles knew what he had to ask of Buffy was going to be cruel. In the time it took the others to find each other, he had already faded into nothing without the notice of anyone.

"Dawn!" Xander shouted when his hand moved through open air behind him reaching out for his wife, "C'mon!"

Something had averted Dawn's eyes, "Wait!"

Just a few steps away, partially under a chair, the twinkle had captured her eye.

"Only a Summers woman would tell me to wait for them while a wormhole to hell opens under my feet!" Xander shouted to the ceiling, hoping the growing roar of the portal would drown him out.

"I heard th-" she started, fumbling under the chair, closing her hand around the chain just as she felt a firm hand grip her shoulder, and then vertigo as her sentence cut short.

The strange push and pull of this place made her uneasy. She had returned to the ethereal vacuum the Fates had pulled her into earlier, but it did not look like a bunch of nothingness. Instead, they had recreated the living room of her Sunnydale home, right down to the archaeological knickknacks and the dozen times replaced picture window. Seriously, how many times had Xander fixed that window? But, the Fates had not joined her this time. Instead, there was a familiar cast of characters seated around her, and the faces that were looking back on her were heartwarming and heartbreaking at the same time.

"Did I miss a memo?" she quipped only to stop herself from bursting into tears, "No one told me that the amulet was a Deathly Hallow."

"Wonderful to see that your latest death has not dampened your affinity for pop culture references," Giles nodded, a half smile playing on his lips.

That did it.

Unable to hold any more emotion inside, Buffy launched towards Giles, jumping slightly to link her arms around his neck, "I missed your big words…" her breath hitched, "…so freaking much."

Running his hands across her back, soothing her turbulent mixture of delight and sorrow, he pressed a kiss to the top of her head lovingly, adding in his humorously dry way, "Yes, yes, I harbor fondness for you as well."

Her voice filtered through where it was buried into his chest with muffled resonance, "Could you be any more British?"

"How about a little love for the one who birthed you?" Joyce rolled her eyes, fighting a smirk, "Glad to see some things never change."

Jolting her head towards her mother, red faced and blotchy from her tears, she attacked her mother just as fervently.

"I'm sorry, mom!" she apologized, wrapping her arms around her mom's back, "I promis,e I miss you too! Do you feel how tight I'm squeezing you?"

"Yes," Joyce's voice was a bit strangled.

"Well, if squeezing you was missing you, it still wouldn't be enough!" she promised, adding a kiss to her mother's cheek for emphasis.

The others stood behind, each waiting patiently with wide smiles to receive their turn for acknowledgement and love . Tara, Jenny Calendar, Anya—her friends, her family that had been taken from the world before their time thanks to an angel who could teach Regina George a thing or two about manipulation, with a raging hard on for power and…

…fuck, one alternative lifetime with him, and she was already starting to sound like Dean.

"Where are the Moirae?" Buffy asked, shaking away the momentary thought of Dean, but unable to shake the pain that lingered with it.

"In hiding," Tara replied quickly, then backtracked, "Well, I mean, not that their scared, but Atropos believes that Zachariah will put a price on their heads. The Apocolypse might have started, but Dean still has to say yes, and until he does that…," Tara was still as adorable and awkward as the day Buffy had met her, "…which I'm sure he won't! ...I know he won't! But, the Fates still have a chance to fix this as long as he denies Michael."

"The Fates brought you here because they fear that Zachariah won't allow you to leave heaven again if you return," Jenny stated, "He was going to use us against you, like he planned to do with Giles, so they pulled us out of heaven and brought us here the moment Sam sank that blade into your ribs."

"Well, I don't know why I'm here," Anya huffed, crossing her arms, "I'd like to see Zachariah and his army of nancy little angels march into Valhalla making demands."

"Yes, Anya, for the sixth time, we are aware that you were in Valhalla…" Giles sighed, taking his glasses off in a frustrated swipe to rub his eyes, "You have covered it extensively."

"Well, it's very exclusive! Not just anybody gets to go…"

Fighting a giggle, Buffy threw up a hand silencing Anya mid-sentence, "Are we in purgatory?"

"No. The Moirae inhabit a space parallel to the ethereal and physical planes, so that they might operate without influence from other beings," Giles explained.

"Think of this as an indefinite layover before your connecting flight back to Earth," Tara chimed in, smiling in her innocent way that almost made Buffy think this would be more like a sleepover and less like being in solitary confinement for your own protection.

"If I'm going back… again…" she mumbled the last bit under her breath, "why the welcome committee? Why not just send me right back?"

"The Fates can't send you back, Buffy. They only have the power to determine your fate, not enact it," Joyce spoke softly in the tone, long since forgotten by Buffy, of the comforting mother, "They have to wait for someone with the power to resurrect you."

"What happened to Castiel?" Buffy's eyes went wide with concern.

"Cas is a weak nancy angel," Anya replied, "and, he ran out of power ups."

"Castiel had to make a tough choice," Jenny restated, ignoring Anya, "After Lilith possessed you, Zachariah had Dean and Giles confined, and Castiel had to use an angel sigil to help them escape. It left him very weak. He only had enough juice left to bring you back, or get the others out of Dodge, but not both."

Though she heard Jenny's words, she did not react. A collection of pictures on the wall behind Jenny stole her attention. Up until that moment, she had no other reason to think this was her old living room, recreated from her memories. But, the photographs clustered in groups around the room told another story—one including the Winchesters. Scattered throughout photos she knew well from her past, Dean and Sam appeared like they had been Photoshopped into place. This was her living room, but the one that existed in the other life, the real life that she had been denied.

"Don't worry, Buffy," Tara squeezed her shoulder when she did not respond, "You'll be home soon. He just has to rest."

Catching her reflection in the mirror, her eyes directed to the necklace she saw around her neck. It was not one of her usual crosses, but instead a silver locket with curling filigree. Slipping the edge of her painted nail under the lip of the locket, she popped the cover from the back. Inside was a photo of Dean and her, sharing a deep kiss.

"Actually," Buffy directed her eyes back to Tara, her eyes clouded with worry, "If hell's breaking loose down there, I think for once I prefer to be out of the crossfire."

"—at, smart-ass."

The end of Dawn's sentence echoed throughout the large empty space where they had landed. They had left the danger of the chapel, and were in another building—an abandoned one if she had her guess. Everything was dark, and the furniture she could make out in the dim light was covered in white sheets. The air was cold and there was a prevalent veneer of dust on everything stationary.

They were scattered around the room in groups, each conscious person responsible for an unconscious one. Bobby and Cas shouldered Dean to an old fashioned looking office chair. Angel propped Sam and Willow against the wall having dragged them through the jump. In the middle of the disoriented mass Spike was standing completely still, absently holding Buffy's lifeless body, wearing a look of absolute uselessness.

"Bring her here," Castiel motioned, and a single light came on over a long, mahogany conference table.

Laying her out, the crowd slowly enclosed around her, and though there was silence, the room was pregnant with unspoken remarks.

"Where's Giles?" Xander asked.

"I sent him to be with Buffy," Cas replied.

"Your not going to bring her back?" Dawn asked, dropping the amulet next to Buffy under the bleaching light of the lone florescent bulb.

"I have not received word as to whether I am to resurrect her or not."

"Then, allow me. Do it!" Spike growled, the tone of his voice challenging anyone to question him that they should not immediately bring her back.

"Trust me when I say I would, gladly, but my hands are tied until I receive word from the Moirae," Castiel argued in his unintentional, passive-aggressive manner, "Regardless of my own convictions, I could not raise her without first resting. I must go for now. I will return when I have news."

With the sound of air moving against feathers, Castiel was gone, leaving them in this unknown place, alone and in the dark.

"Never send an Angel to do a Demon's job," a British accent not belonging to their recently departed librarian startled them all, "No stamina."

The sound of bullets clicking into barrels resounded in the empty darkness.

"Oh, relax," Crowley snorted, putting up his hands in mock surrender, "You lot act like you've got the Devil on your back," he deadpanned, taking in their blank, unamused faces, "What? Too soon?"

"Is this jack-ass with us?" Bobby asked of anyone who might know, trigger finger itching as he raised the barrel of his shot gun.

"I'm with Thing One and Thing Two," Crowley pointed to Spike and Angel.

"This is my look of not surprise," Xander pointed at his own face, glowering at the vampires.

"Don't worry," Crowley assured them as he approached the table, "Their contract with me terminated the moment the Slayer dropped dead," he circled the table, eying Buffy like he was selecting a cut of meat, "but, their loss is now your fortunate opportunity."

"Look, I'm gonna to take a stab in the dark here, but I'm pretty sure I can speak on behalf of all of us conscious folk when I say not interested," Bobby was still griping his gun.

"Fine, have it your way," Crowley wiped his hands together like he was washing his hands of them, "I usually prefer for slayers to stay dead anyway, but I thought hey, why not make an exception…" he shrugged his shoulders, holding his fingers ready to snap him away, "Especially if she and Winchester had a hand in stopping Lucifer."

"Crowley, Wait!" Angel's voice boomed in the echo chamber, "I'll give you my soul for Buffy."

"What?!" rang out from more than one shocked persons lips.

"Sold to the brooding vampire with the over-styled fringe!" Crowley smiled wickedly.

"What are you doing, mate?" Spike grabbed him, pulling Angel to where they could speak in hushed voices, "This is no time for thrillin' heroics that a better man might confuse for stupidity."

Closing his eyes, conjuring up the nerve to say out loud what needed to be said, he meekly answered in the only words that ever seemed to precede his irrational actions, "It's Buffy. What wouldn't you do for her?" he swallowed, "What wouldn't you do to make things right?"

Deep down, Spike did not know whether Angel meant the fractured universe, or more specifically, the fact he had snapped Giles neck while under the influence of Twilight, taking away the most important person in Buffy's life. Angel's words rang in Spike's head—I'm sick of being the walking time bomb. Angel had fought for redemption, but forgiveness for his sins was never in the cards. That only left one way of truly finding atonement.

Spike let go of Angel's arm, nodding, asking, "What should I tell her?"

"Tell her…" Angel paused, thoughtfully processing his words, heavy with the realization they would be his last, "Tell her I'm glad she found someone to walk with in the sunlight."

"Seriously?" Spike snorted, but not in his usual biting sarcasm, "How do you expect me to tell her that, and not choke up?"

"I'm on a rather tight schedule boys," Crowley's voice tore their attention from each other.

"I'm sure you'll find a way of looking like a cold-hearted badass," Angel reached out his hand to shake Spike's, "I never said it… but, you were always the better man, William," Spike thought he might properly cry— like, a sniveling little girl kind of cry. The kind of crying he would have followed with terrible poetry in another lifetime. Angel smiled, and winked at Spike, "Take care of our girl."

A wave of dizziness struck her and she stumbled, catching herself on the coffee table.

"Buffy, they're pulling you back, so you have to listen!" Giles took her by the shoulders, holding her upright and looking into her eyes, "Dean's going to ask for your assistance in stopping Lucifer, but you must say no."

"What? Why?"

"It's not your fight, Buffy," Joyce added, "You're too important to lose again, and next time Zachariah may be faster than the Fates."

"We need you to lock down Hell, Buffy," Jenny argued.

"We need you to make sure our deaths meant something," Tara finished.

"But, Dean helps me close the gates. Why can't I help him?"

"Buffy, you have to promise you will say no," Giles was firm, "Everything depends on it."

"He won't understand!"

"He will when the time is right."

This was wrong. Dean and her were a team, she knew that now. What they were capable of accomplishing together was astonishing. When the Boogeyman went to bed, he checked his closet for Dean Winchester, and under his bed for Buffy Summers. She did not understand Giles request, but she also trusted her Watcher more than any other being in the universe. She knew he would not ask this of her if it was not incredible important. It broke Buffy inside to do it, but she obliged him.

"Fine… I… I promise."

"It will all be worth it, my darling girl, I swear. Your burden is the greatest gift anyone could give to the world," Giles embraced her one last time, and whispered, "I'll be waiting on the other side."

"Give my love to Dawn," Joyce kissed her forehead.

"Tell Willow I forgive her," Tara spoke, her eyes pleading, and Buffy nodded with tears rimmed her eyes.

"Oh, right! There's something really important I want you to tell Xander," Anya reached for her shoulder.

Buffy turned, a knowing look in her eyes, "He knows you just wanted him to be happy," Buffy smiled, and took her hand.

"What?" Anya scrunched up her face, and looked at Buffy like her comment could not be more ridiculous, "No! Tell him he's a cradle robber," she deadpanned, "I mean, I know Dawn's your sister, and I love her, but seriously… emphasize the words cradle and robber," and, with that she sucked Buffy into a quick, forceful hug, a huge smiling spreading across her face,"Good luck with the whole martyr thing!"

"Cradle robber…" Buffy spoke as she bolted upright on the table, enclosed in a circle of her makeshift Scoobies.

That face- it was him. She froze with fear when she recognized him from the other place. What was his name? Crawford? No that wasn't it… what the hell was it? Crowley! That was it! The King of Hell. The Final Test to close the Gates of Hell forever. The Demon who must be brought forth for judgment in heaven.

Wait a minute… Did he just resurrect her?

"I hope you live up to the hype, love," Crowley smirked, non-chalantly adjusting the cuff of his suit sleeve, "You need to work on your parrying skill. Didn't the Ripper teach you to know your enemy?"

The eerie similarity of the question paralyzed her lungs—the same one he had menacingly asked in their vision as he had her pinned to the floor, convinced he was about to seize victory over the boy and the girl whose souls had been tethered together for the very purpose of ending the reign of Hell on Earth.

"I suppose you're going to need them around if you're going to be stopping Lucifer," Crowley shrugged, and Dean, Sam, and Willow all woke with a start.

Recognizing the Demon as well, Dean instinctively reached for his gun, pointing at Crowley's head.

"What is it with you lot, and firearms?" Crowley huffed, "There's no weapon left that can kill me, so save your bullets."

Remembering how they had incapacitated Crowley before, using the Demon's Trap bullet, Buffy and Dean fought the urge to laugh.

"Now, you two, listen up," Crowley pointed at Buffy and Dean, "I've spent a considerable amount of time and energy to become King of Hell, so needless to say, the return of Lucifer is going to put a considerable cramp in my style. I know for a fact the only reason Zach split you two crazy kids up is because you were the key to stopping the Apocalypse."

"Yep," Dean agreed, putting on his best confident smile, "That's our destiny- stop the Apocalypse."

It was so bizarre to them both. Here stood the very person who would stand in the way of their soul purpose for existing, and he was helping them. Clearly, he had no idea why the Fates had tethered them—that by raising Buffy he was abdicating his throne and signing his own death certificate.

"I'm going to be out of town for a while, if you get my meaning," Crowley replied, "So, if you would be so kind as to let me know when your done with the exterminating, I'd be very grateful," he turned to leave, then paused for a second, holding up a finger like had just remembered something important, and turned back to face Spike, "Oh, and one more thing before I forget."

Forming his finger into a gun, he clicked his tongue like he shooting Spike, and vanished in a snap of his fingers. But, to Spike, it felt like something actually hit him. An intense pain seared through Spike's entire body, bringing him to his knees. It felt like every bone in his body was breaking and reforming. He grasped his head as an overwhelming, pulsing noise throbbed in his head. This was even worse than the pain of having that blasted chip in his head.

"Oi, fuck, does anyone hear that?" he yelled.

The sound got worse, and the throbbing feeling pulsed through his entire body, ending in his chest. That's when Spike realized he was holding his breath, or rather that he even had breath to hold, and the deprivation of which was painfully evident.

"That's bleedin' impossible!" he gasped, smacking his chest several times in a mad panic that transformed into incandescent joy, "Oi, Little Bit! Feel this!"

Spike grabbed Dawn's hand and pressed it to his jugular vein.

"Oh my god, Spike!" Dawn exclaimed.

"Watch the hands!" Xander protested.

"Oh hell, Cyclops, here," he grabbed Xander's hand and pressed in the place Dawn's had been.

"Why do you have a pulse!?" Xander's voice cracked slightly at the realization that Spike's heart was beating.

"Don't know, don't care!" he laughed, unable to control his glee, despite the fact he knew exactly why he was alive again. This had been part of Angel's deal, and for that he owed the wanker. Smiling like an idiot, he shouted, "But, I'll tell you one thing—I can't wait to get a sun burn!"