"I have to say Buffy, despite the perilous nature of our situation, you have a certain glow about you today," Willow remarked as the two of them walked towards Xander's home. "I also can't help but notice that you didn't need a ride this afternoon … was it possible that the Angelmobile was conveniently parked outside your townhouse when you awoke, and that Angel was perhaps conveniently there to drive you?"

Buffy groaned and made sure that Angel was not within earshot before she replied, "Please promise me that you won't make a big thing out of me and the boyfriend patching things up."

"Of course not," Willow promised as a knowing smirk appeared on her face. "And I certainly won't remind you that I told you so."

"You know," Buffy said in a manner that she felt did not quite reach the level of snippy, "Everyone's interest in my love life really didn't help the situation."

Willow smiled, reached out and gently tapped her shoulder with a closed fist, and in a cheery voice said, "Well, it all worked out in the end."

It would be nice if the details of my private life ever remained private …

That last evening and the morning that followed, admittedly, had been exceedingly pleasant. When her eyelids peeled open, she had been greeted by the comforting glow of the afternoon sun and for one moment … one glorious, resplendent, blissful moment … she had forgotten about the latest apocalypse. Angel's arms were wrapped around her, she could hear the birds twittering with slayer-enhanced ears, and she could feel the threads of the blankets rustle across her skin in a way she hadn't since the Shard had destroyed her powers. The afterglow of her and Angel reconnecting enveloped her, and she felt at peace.

Reconnecting … such a polite way of saying that we went at it like teenagers.

Her muscles had worked as they should, her reflexes and resiliency had returned, and as she stretched beneath the blankets, she felt truly happy for the first time in a long time … then a few seconds later she remembered that a soulless, dead thing threatened the entirety of existence, and that Faith, Spike, her younger self, Dana, and Jess were gone forever.

She and Angel had dressed, he had draped his arms around her waist while she tied back her hair and put on just the right amount of makeup to make it look like she wasn't wearing makeup, then she'd patted at his arms, thanked him for the sweet embrace, and reminded him that they had a job to do which would require them to leave the bathroom.

She did allow herself, however, a few extra seconds to stare at her now mid-twenties-appearing face. It had been so long since she'd looked into a mirror and not seen crow's feet or lines of worry and grief etched across her brow that she scarcely recognized the person looking back at her.

"Everyone, I have an announcement to make," Willow called out as soon as the two of them had walked through Xander's front door. Her voice was loud and strident, enthusiasm dripped from every word, and before Buffy could stop her, she continued, "Buffy and Angel are officially back together. This long national nightmare is over."

"Oh, thank heavens," Giles said as he turned his gaze towards the ceiling, issued a deep sigh, and leaned away from the dining room table.

A broad smile erupted on Dawn's face, and from her perch on the couch she squealed, "Yay!"

"About time," Xander called out from his slumped position next to Dawn. Dawn looked down at him with a frown, then resumed smiling at Buffy.

Connor and Colleen, both of whom were rather notorious night owls, mumbled a series of congratulations from the far side of the couch.

"Thanks, Will," Buffy said through gritted teeth. "I really appreciate you keeping your promise to not make a big thing out of my and Angel's relationship status."

"Don't mention it," Willow replied as she once again tapped her fist against Buffy's shoulder.

"What did I miss?" Angel said as he appeared in the doorway.

Giles removed his glasses, rubbed the bridge of his nose, and glanced around the room. "It's a few hours past noon, we've all had a good night's rest … at least most of us have," he shot pointed looks at Buffy and at Dawn, "and as soon as everyone else is here, we need to …" Giles's voice trailed off, and his face grew drawn and his expression pained.

Giles forgot that no one else is coming.

Buffy walked over, put her arms around Giles's shoulders, and gave him a hug. He resisted at first, then he leaned his head against her arm and tried to smile. "I miss them, too," she whispered to him. The room seemed half empty without Faith, the other Buffy, and Spike. Even the loss of Dana and Jess, with whom she'd never gotten along, had left behind a hole in their lives.

Giles cleared his throat as if to speak, then he slid his glasses back over his nose, hung his head, and remained silent. Buffy tightened her hug for a moment, then sat down next to him. Dawn, whose unkempt hair was tousled and mussed, rose to join them at the dining room table. Despite the grim reality of their situation, Buffy noticed that her sister seemed to have a rather satisfied aura about her. She tried to place her sister's change in mood, then a notion occurred to her. She pointedly glanced at Xander, then turned to stare at Dawn with a raised eyebrow and a questioning look.

Her sister bit her lower lip to keep from smiling, nodded, and Buffy stretched her hand under the table and patted her on the knee.

Good for you, Dawn. Now, since the Summers sisters seem to have repaired their sex lives, how about we try to save the universe? Or universes … or whatever.

Despite it being well into the afternoon, Xander circulated steaming coffee mugs filled near-to-the-brim as they all settled around the dining room table. Buffy had just opened her mouth to speak when Connor interrupted. "What about Illyria, shouldn't she be here?" He hesitated a second, then continued, "Or is it Fred now?" He glanced over at Willow. "How is she doing? Any issues with her shacking up with you?"

Willow spluttered for a moment as she sipped at her coffee, then she set down the mug and replied, "Other than my having to give her a few pointers on respecting personal space and boundaries, Illyria seems to be fine … if a bit distracted." Willow rubbed at her temples for a moment. "Honestly, I thought that once the demonic essence had been destroyed, it would be more like having Fred back, but that doesn't seem to be the case."

"Angelus may be dead, but the memories of every horrible thing he did are still here," Angel said as he tapped at his temple. "I imagine it's much the same way with Illyria … whatever might be left of Winifred Burkle, she's trapped beneath the weight of eons of supernatural recollections."

Xander raised a hand and asked, "Can't we get rid of those Old One memories?"

Willow and Giles glanced at each other.

"I'm not sure we would know where to start," Giles admitted. "There was so little of Fred left to begin with, who knows what now remains."

"But we'll look into it," Buffy assured everyone. "Just as soon as we deal with the First. Again." Buffy noticed that Xander was staring at her with a glazed, almost mesmerized look in his eyes. "What?" she finally asked as she glanced down at her jeans and simple long-sleeved, cream-colored top. "Did I spill something?"

Xander grinned. "It's been so long since I saw you all swirling with the white and red slayer magic, I'd forgotten what it looked like." His smile intensified. "It's good to have you back, Buff." He gestured towards her face. "Hell, you even look pretty much like you did when Sunnydale was still around."

Pretty much?

Similar sentiments were expressed by all assembled, and Buffy found that her eyes were growing moist. Showers, some sleep, and it was as though the horrors of the past few days were already fading from memory as they geared up to face the next calamity. Perhaps her resiliency should bother her, after all, there was nothing wrong with experiencing natural grief and sorrow, but they'd been down this road before and she couldn't help but look forward.

Of course, if they didn't stop the First, there wouldn't be anything to look forward to.

"Thank you for the kind words, it means a lot" she said as she put her hands on the table and refocused. Everyone was staring at her with expectant eyes, and with a sense of déjà vu, she gathered herself to speak. Angel reached out, put his hand on hers, and she began, "Cordelia said the First had become corporeal once before and was defeated."

"True," Giles replied, "but Buffy, Cordelia also said that the Powers don't know how the First was defeated."

"And they can't find the people responsible for that victory," Willow added as her forehead crinkled with concern. "Which makes me kind of worried about all of us."

Xander rapped the table and nodded. "I agree with that sentiment."

Buffy cleared her throat, then replied, "I'm pretty sure I know why the Powers can't find them." She hardened the set of her jaw and stared in turn at everyone at the table. "If we make the same mistake they did, the same thing will happen to us."

I don't think I'd enjoy being the First's slave for all eternity.

"What's the plan, Buff?" Xander asked. "Cut the First in two? Maybe find another one of those talismans?"

Buffy shook her head, reached into her pocket, and pulled out several folded sheets of paper. She'd written hurriedly, but she hoped legibly, during the drive to Xander's.

"Is that the plan, Buffy?" Colleen asked as she stifled a yawn. "I wasn't expecting to have to read anything today."

Buffy nodded, then laid the pages on the table. "It is the plan, but for it to work, I need to confirm something first." In a loud, shrill voice that generated flinches from everyone at the table, she yelled out, "Cordelia! We need you! CORDY!"

Cordelia's voice rang throughout the room, "Who do you think I am, Lassie? Don't yell for me like that and expect me to show up."

"But … you did come when Buffy called," Xander pointed out.

The room seemed to grow very still and quiet.

"I'll shut up now," Xander muttered.

"You've been listening to our conversation, right Cordy?" Buffy asked.

Cordelia's disembodied voice called out again, "Yes."

"Cordy, is there a reason why you're speaking to us like you're a ghost?" Angel asked. "Just … poof down here so we can talk to you face to face."

"I can't poof down there at the moment," Cordelia replied. "The Powers are worried that the First is beginning to spread across dimensions, and every time one of us Mary Poppins onto your plane of existence we might be making the situation worse."

"But you can still help, right?" Buffy asked, and it was a struggle to keep desperation from leaking into her voice. If the Powers couldn't help, they were doomed. "Cordy, there's no way that Giles and Willow are going to be able to make all of the portals we're going to need."

Giles and Willow stared at each other and mouthed the word portals.

"Transportation, the Powers can arrange," Cordelia said after a moment. "You can have all the portals you want … just so long as you're using them to defeat the First and not to sightsee, or anything."

"Then we can win," Buffy announced. "I know we can."

Though Cordelia had no body for them to view, somehow Buffy could imagine her frowning in thought. "How? Cordelia asked. "Once the First has a toehold in reality, it shouldn't be possible to defeat it."

"We don't need to defeat it," Buffy said.

Everyone stared at her with puzzled looks.

Cordelia's voice rang out through the room once more, "Come again?"

Buffy took a deep breath and began handing out the sheets of paper. "None of you are going to like this," she warned them.

"When do we ever?" Willow asked as she picked up her page and began to read. Everyone followed suit, and soon the room was filled with the sound of paper rustling. Buffy did her best to ignore the wrinkled brows, questioning looks, and pursed lips, though she had to suppress a smile as she imagined that those dearest to her were going through a familiar ritual of searching for weaknesses in her idea.

Any second now they'll begin telling me that I'm being idiotically reckless.

It was Giles who, after a few minutes, spoke first. He set down his page, stared at her, and said, "Buffy, this is an exceedingly dangerous and likely terrible idea."

"I wasn't going to be the first to say it," Cordelia called out. "Kind of putting all your eggs in one basket, aren't you?"

With the exception of Colleen, who voiced questions instead of protests, a cacophony of concerns, bewilderment, doubt, and consternation filled the air. With every comment a grin grew wider on Buffy's face, and after a few moments she found herself near tears at the comforting familiarity of the conversation.

Sure, the world might be ending, but that happened with some regularity … what mattered was that they were still fighting and still together. There'd been losses, there'd been grief that they had no time to heal from, but they were here. Eventually, everybody realized that instead of replying, she was fixing them with eyes that were moist with unshed tears. One by one they fell silent and stared at her with looks halfway between confusion and concern.

"Buffy, are you alright?" Angel asked when the room had grown quiet.

She nodded, forced the grin from her face, cleared her throat, and said, "This past year, with the fighting and all of us together, it's kind of felt like it used to … and I know that it's been horrible, and there's been losses that are so fresh that the wounds are still bleeding, but I want you all to know that I love you. If we're going to face the end of everything, and it sounds like we are, you're who I would want to face it with. If I haven't said that enough, if I've taken for granted over this past year that you would always be there, I'm sorry."

She waved off hugs, fought back tears at the heartfelt replies voiced in response to what she had said, and when everyone had said their piece, she steepled her hands on the table and announced, "Now, let's talk about my idea."

Colleen tentatively raised a hand, all eyes turned towards her, and in a halting, hesitant manner, she said, "I know I'm the new gal on the block when it comes to apocalypses, but isn't this plan too simple?" She glanced about. "If it was this straight-forward, why wouldn't the Powers do it?"

"I think the Powers have a blind spot," Buffy explained. She watched as expressions indicating varying degrees of skepticism appeared on everyone's faces, then hurried to explain further, "The same way that the First couldn't possibly understand something like love, I don't think the Powers are capable of envisioning how you deal with a monster that can be anywhere and infect anything. Trying to fight the First head-on won't work … we have to do something different, something that the Powers would consider unthinkable."

"She has a point," Cordelia's disembodied voice admitted. "The Powers could never do what Buffy suggests because it's the exact opposite of our purpose for being."

"This could work," Willow announced in a tone so begrudging that Buffy wondered if she should feel insulted, "if the power doesn't rip you, Giles and me, apart … but Buff, you're going to assemble an army of mystics, demons, wizards, and creeply-crawlies, all of whom hate each other, and hope they don't kill each other just long enough?"

"Even with Willow and I sharing the strain to keep our hearts from stopping, a spell of this magnitude cannot be maintained for more than a few minutes," Giles informed her.

Colleen glanced up from her page of instructions. "Buffy is going to get us killed, isn't she?"

Connor cracked the knuckles on his right hand, then rubbed at the bandages covering the stumps of the pinkie and ring finger of his left hand. "She hasn't yet."

Xander smacked at the table, and everyone jumped. "I love this plan and I'm proud to be a part of it."

Angel was breathing heavily, beads of sweat had appeared on his protruding brow, and Buffy braced herself for the onslaught of fear-for-her-disguised-as-concern she knew was coming. "I don't like this," he announced. She allowed the hint of a frown to settle onto her features, and Angel hurriedly added, "I mean, I don't like this at a level far beyond my usual amount of worrying. Even if it works perfectly, we might leave someone hung out to dry in the most biblical sense possible." His words were rushed and tumbled each over as he added, "Why does it have to be Buffy?" Buffy's eyes narrowed, she inhaled sharply, and Angel held up a hand in a mollifying gesture. "I just mean, wouldn't Willow be a better choice for a fight involving magic?"

"I don't think a non-slayer would survive," Willow replied. Then, in a worried, scarcely audible voice, she continued, "It isn't guaranteed a slayer would either, but if it works, Buffy won't need me to fight for her."

Buffy considered whether she should be angry at Angel … after all, they had only just worked through some very serious issues on the overprotectiveness front. After a few deep breaths, she decided that on this particular issue, her boyfriend was right to have some doubts.

That was a fair question, and if I get mad every time Angel is worried about me, I'll be angry for the rest of my life.

Buffy with a shrug said, "I warned you that you wouldn't like my idea, and if anyone has a better one, I'm all ears." She looked around the table. "Hearing no other options, we're going with my plan."

Dawn, who had been peeking at Xander's sheet of instructions, raised a hand. "Buffy, what about me?"

Oh, Dawn … I am so sorry.

"Moral support?" Buffy suggested with an apologetic look on her face.

Dawn frowned, narrowed her eyes, and fixed Buffy with a flinty gaze.

"Okay, then," Buffy said as she turned away from Dawn's stare of disapproval. "Let's talk timing." She gestured towards Xander. "How long will it take you to fix the pentacle?"

"Rebuilding that gas line is going to be a week, at least … and that's assuming nobody figures out I'm falsifying the permits," Xander replied as he scratched at the stubble that had grown on his chin over the past few days. "Just how important is repairing Arach's creepy construction project?"

"We're going to need it," Willow said. "All of Buffy's theoretical army will have to be inside a pentagram for the spell to work, and trying to build an entirely new one that's big enough would take too long."

"Alright then," Buffy said as she stood and leaned forward with her hands on the table. "Colleen and Connor, guard Xander's back while he's on contracting detail."

"And here I thought I was retired," Xander muttered.

Buffy turned towards the mystics in their ranks. "Will, Giles, you guys are in charge of recruiting the wizards, sorcerers, witches … basically anyone who can pull a rabbit out of their hat."

"Yay," Willow replied in a notably unenthusiastic manner while Giles nodded.

She patted Angel on the shoulder. "The boytoy and I are going to be visiting the not-so-pleasant people and organizations we've crossed paths with over the years. Nobody likes to die, so I'm sure they'll see reason and cooperate."

"Hopefully," Giles muttered.

Angel stood, straightened his shoulders, and growled, "Let's get to work."

Buffy's mouth hung open as she put her hands on her hips and fixed Angel with an irritated glare.

Hey! I was going to say that!

. . . . . . . . .

Willow hung her keys on a hook by the door and draped her knee-length, fuzzy wool coat on the back of the brown, polyester-upholstered easy chair that she hated, but Oz loved. The walk from the parking lot through the apartment building had been difficult, unlocking the door and swinging it open had almost brought a tear to her eye, and she had to steel herself before she could step inside. The empty bassinet, the silence … it had only been days, but the time apart from Oz and Ellie was already becoming excruciating.

It wasn't until the aroma of tomatoes and garlic wafted into her nostrils that she remembered that she had a houseguest.

What is Illyria doing?

She kicked off her flats and snuggled her toes into wool-lined slippers perched on the edge of a nearby rug.

"Illyria?" she called out as she eyed the entryway to her and Oz's small kitchen. "Is everything okay?"

Illyria poked her head around the yellow-painted wall, smiled … actually smiled … and in a cheery, bright voice said, "Absolutely. I figured you'd be hungry when you got back, and since I'm cooped up in here, I thought I might as well make my famous pasta pomodoro. I warn you, it's been a while since I've cooked anything, so I hope I remember what I'm doing." She ducked her head back around, then a second later her smiling face reappeared. "Don't worry, it's a meat-free recipe … not that you keep any meat in the fridge." She disappeared again.

Willow's jaw fell open as she hovered, entirely uncertain of what to do, in the living room.

Eventually, with hesitant footsteps, she walked into the kitchen and stopped to survey the signs of activity within. Salt, pepper, and assorted spice bottles lined the counter, atop a wooden carving board sat a knife along with remnants of minced garlic and onion, and a pot of water bubbled on the stove next to a frying pan filled with a light red sauce.

"Illyria …" Willow started to say, then she realized that the Old One, or more accurately, ex-Old One, was wearing only a thin white t-shirt and snug, figure-hugging black boyshorts. Illyria leaned on the counter, rose on her tiptoes, and reached up to grab a container of spaghetti from an upper shelf. The maneuver resulted in her t-shirt rising to expose her bare waist and lower back, and Willow averted her eyes and tried not to visualize Oz laughing hysterically if he was there. She kept her gaze somewhere besides the pert bottom on display in front of her as she continued, "We've talked about this, Illyria. Unless it's private time in the bathroom or bedroom you need to be wearing clothes, as in shorts, or pants, or a dress … not just underwear."

"Please don't call me that," Illyria said in a casual, yet strained, manner as she lowered her heels back down to the floor, set the box of spaghetti on the counter next to the stove, and with trembling hands reached towards the sink.

The warmth emanating from the stove contrasted with the nervous, cold tendrils that had wrapped themselves around Willow's spine. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"Willow," Illyria said as the shaking of her hands intensified, "you don't understand, I can only do this when she …"

When Illyria paused mid-sentence, Willow realized that the woman's entire body was vibrating as if it was being assaulted by an unseen force. She stepped forward, tried to think of what to say or do, and then Illyria's body went limp. She slumped first against the counter, then slid backwards toward the floor. Willow rushed forward in a crouch and barely managed to prevent Illyria's head from smashing against the white tile. She mentally thanked Giles for giving her a functioning lower body, then reached up, snatched a pair of oven mitts from the counter, and slid them beneath Illyria's head. Illyria's eyes had rotated back in the skull so that only the whites showed, and her limbs flopped against the floor while her entire body convulsed.

I tried every delving spell I could think of and there was no demonic essence left inside her … this isn't magic.

Willow had just begun to wonder if she should find something to jam between Illyria's teeth when the tremors ceased. Illyria inhaled deeply, blinked a few times, then she gazed upwards. Willow was struck by the beauty of the expressive, lively dark brown eyes staring at her, the smoothness of Illyria's skin, and the soft, delicate curves of her jaw and neck.

I'm married! Stop it, Will!

"I suspected that you desired to touch me, but this is not the manner that I envisioned," Illyria said, and her familiar flat, emotionless manner of speaking had returned. She reached out, grabbed the handle of a nearby cabinet, and with Willow's help levered herself upright. "Why have you placed me on the floor of this room?"

Willow helped Illyria to her feet, then muttered a few words in Sanskrit and passed her hand over Illyria's head. The Old One watched her with a neutral, unreadable expression.

Still no magic.

"Illyria," Willow said, "what's the last thing you remember?"

The other woman thought for a moment, then replied, "I was searching for clothes in the wooden item of furniture that you had informed me was intended for my use …." the woman narrowed her eyes in thought for a few seconds before she continued, "and then I woke up and found myself upon the floor of this room, in your embrace."

"There was no embracing!" Willow said as she waved her hands in front of her body in an energetic fashion. "Do you hear me? Not even the teensiest embrace! I was keeping you from hitting your head, that was it."

Illyria cocked her head to the side. "You have done me a service by providing me with both shelter and the protection of your wards, so I shall maintain this fiction that you have described … though I must admit to being perplexed."

Willow clenched her fists for a moment, then through gritted teeth asked, "Do you remember our conversation here in the kitchen just a few moments ago? You were talking to me about cooking spaghetti sauce."

Illyria shook her head. "No." She glanced down at her body and laid a hand on her stomach. "The sensation that earlier in the day you described as hunger has returned." She looked at Willow. "The weakness of this form and its constant needs represent a nuisance." She raised her hands and stared at them as though she didn't recognize them. "I feel as though I should be angry and filled with despair over what has been done to me, but I find that I am not." She lowered her arms. "This body is frail and weak. Earlier today, I attempted to pull open one of the slots in that item of furniture, and I was almost not able to accomplish the task. The condition that I have been reduced to should be intolerable, but instead I have a sensation of …" Illyria, clearly at a loss for words, gazed at Willow as if she expected her to finish the sentence.

"Relief?" Willow suggested.

"Perhaps," Illyria said with a nod. Willow watched with mounting alarm as a crimson rivulet of blood trickled from the woman's nose to spatter upon the floor of the kitchen.

Willow grabbed a paper towel off the counter and extended her hand. "Illyria, your nose is bleeding."

The woman ignored the paper towel, wiped at her nose, then stared at the blood smeared across the skin of her hand. She raised her eyes towards Willow. "I fear that something is wrong."

Willow grasped Illyria's upper arm and began tugging her towards the living room couches. "We're going to have you sit down," she said, "then I'm going to call my husband so I can talk to my daughter and hopefully not start crying, and finally I'm going to call Giles so that he and I can figure out what is wrong with you."

"I thought that you were assisting Angel and Buffy Summers," Illyria replied. "Will helping me not distract you from that purpose?"

Willow guided Illyria around Oz's horrid brown chair and eased her onto the couch. "I am, but Giles can work on defeating the First for a few hours without me."

"Your efforts are pointless," Illyria replied as sat with ramrod straightness on the cushions of the couch and placed her hands on her knees. "The First is corporeal and can no longer be fought."

"So, what do you propose?" Willow asked, and she couldn't help but allow a certain amount of snippiness to bleed into the question. "That we give up?"

Illyria shook her head. "Flee," she replied. "This world is doomed, and eventually all other worlds will share a similar fate, but the destruction will take time. You have magic at your disposal that allows you to traverse realities, and I advise you to use this power to stay ahead of the First."

"And then what?" Willow asked. "We just gallivant around and sightsee while creation is destroyed?"

"It cannot be prevented," Illyria explained as dispassionately as if she was stating what time of day it was.

"Buffy has a plan," Willow protested. "It's a little crazy, but when are her plans not crazy? We think we can win."

Illyria shook her head. "We are doomed."

. . . . . . . . .

"How's Xander doing?" Buffy asked as she smiled at her sister.

Dawn held a hand to her mouth giggled, and just for a moment, Buffy saw the ghost of the high schooler her sister had once been. "He's not very pleased about taking up contracting again, but other than that, he seems happier and more relaxed. He and I needed last night something fierce."

Buffy reached out and held Dawn's hand. "Did you give yourself enough time? You had the whammy on you for nearly two years, sis, so maybe take things slow?"

Dawn gave Buffy a quick hug. "As it turns out, I was more than ready." She winced, then said, "The timing wasn't exactly romantic though. Between the newest end-of-the-world crisis, and Faith, and everything, it felt a bit …"

"Awkward?" Buffy suggested.

Dawn nodded. "Exactly."

"Well," Buffy said with a resigned sigh, "if we Summers sisters ignored our libidos until we had perfect timing and peace on Earth we'd never get laid."

"True," Dawn agreed. "So, Buff, what's with this big mysterious mano a mano meeting?"

Buffy crossed her arms across her chest. "I wasn't exactly honest with you, and everyone else, in there, Dawn."

It felt as though the ruddy light of the setting sun grew dimmer and that a shadow had fallen across Xander's patio.

"What do you mean?" Dawn asked as she crossed her own arms.

"Just because I didn't have a set of hastily scribbled notes for you," Buffy replied, "doesn't mean that you aren't going to have a part to play. You do, Dawn … and here's the thing, I don't think anyone else can do it. You can't tell anyone … and I mean anyone … about this."

"Me?" Dawn asked as she blinked in confusion and drew back a step or two. "Buffy, I'm not the Key anymore, the Shard destroyed that, same as it did your slayer-ness and Angel and Spike's fang-iness. I can't fight, I don't know how to use a gun, and last night with Xander really drove home in embarrassing fashion just how out of shape I am. What could you possibly want me to do?"

Buffy explained, and as she explained Dawn's face grew pale and drawn.

"I know why you didn't tell anyone," Dawn said at the end as she tightened her arms across her chest and stared down at the wood of the patio. "You don't want Xander to know."

"He'd be very upset," Buffy admitted, "and then he might try to do everything he could to stop you, and Dawn, I really need your help."

"My help?" Dawn asked as she raised her eyes and gazed with a mournful expression at her big sister. "Do you have any idea what you're asking of me? This is one hell of a leap of faith, Buffy."

"I know," Buffy replied. "But Dawn, if this doesn't work, it won't matter if we live or die, because the First is coming for everyone and everything."