Chapter 2: Afterlife
October 2, 2001 – Tuesday
Summers Home
Willow entered hers and Tara's bedroom to find Tara in her nightgown, brushing her hair. She wore a gentle, loving smile as she looked at her partner. "Hey," Willow said softly, her voice carrying a hint of exhaustion from the day's events.
"Did you get through to London?" Tara wondered, her eyes filled with concern and curiosity, her fingers delicately combing through her hair.
"Yeah," Willow said, her tone tinged with a mixture of relief and uncertainty. "Giles is going to head back as soon as he can. Probably… I'm not sure, maybe a couple of days."
Tara's eyes searched Willow's face, searching for the hidden emotions behind her words. "How'd he take it?" Tara asked, her voice gentle, her love for Willow evident in every word.
Willow shrugged, her shoulders carrying a heavy weight of guilt and uncertainty. "Um. I'm not sure. Glad, but ... kind of weirded out, you know? Which I get. Lots of 'dear lords… I think I actually heard him cleaning his glasses." She sat on the bed as Tara looked at her, her expression a mix of understanding and empathy.
"Are you worried?" Tara wondered, her voice filled with compassion and a desire to share in Willow's burdens.
"Worried? Tara, it worked fine. It's all good," Willow said, her words trying to project confidence, but her eyes betraying a vulnerability that only Tara could see.
Tara reached out and gently touched Willow's cheek, her touch conveying comfort and reassurance. "Hey, Will," Tara said tenderly. "This is me. It doesn't all have to be 'good' and 'fine.' This is the room where you don't have to be brave, and I still love you. If you're worried, you can be worried." She turned out the light and got into bed next to Willow, her actions speaking of unwavering support and love.
"I'm not ... unworried," Willow admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, as she snuggled closer to Tara, seeking solace in her embrace. "We know years passed for her. She got married and is pregnant with his child. I ripped her from her happily ever after."
"Do you think taking her from there could have caused her harm?" Tara asked, her voice filled with genuine concern, her eyes reflecting the worry she felt for both their friend and Willow.
"I don't know," Willow said, her tone heavy with sadness, her heart aching with the weight of uncertainty. "She made a life there. She's now pregnant with a child. I stole her away from a family that she had made there. I know she said she was okay with it, that they had gone back to their home before I pulled her out. But is she, really?"
Tara tightened her embrace around Willow, offering comfort and understanding. "We didn't have many choices, Will. We had to bring her back, for the greater good. You did what you thought was right, and she trusted you. That has to count for something."
Willow nodded, her tears glistening in the dim light of their room. She buried her face in Tara's shoulder, seeking solace in her love. "I just hope she's truly okay and that we haven't caused her any pain."
Tara held her even closer, their hearts beating in unison, the warmth of their love cocooning them in a comforting embrace. "We'll be here for her, no matter what," Tara whispered, her voice filled with unwavering support, "and if she isn't happy, we'll do everything we can to help her find her way back to happiness. Together."
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Buffy walked into her bedroom, her gaze sweeping over the room that held so many memories. For Dawn, Willow, Xander, and everyone else she cared about, only five months had passed since she had sacrificed herself by jumping from Glory's tower to save her sister. But for Buffy, it had been nearly thirty years since she had seen this room.
Her eyes settled on the framed photograph on the dresser: a picture of her, Willow, and Xander, frozen in a moment of laughter and happiness. Next to it was another framed photo: a picture of her and Dawn, captured in a loving embrace. Buffy's heart ached as she reached out to touch the picture of her and Dawn, her fingers trembling as she softly traced the line of Dawn's face.
But then, in a chilling twist, the faces in both framed photos changed before her eyes. They morphed into something horrifying—a nightmarish vision. The faces became decayed, skeletal, and empty-eyed, a grotesque distortion of the people she loved. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked up at the other photos taped to her mirror, and there, the same eerie transformation was happening in each of them.
Within moments the pictures had returned to normal. "Welcome home, Buffy," she said to herself, her voice a mixture of resignation and determination. "I guess the Slayer is back on duty."
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Later that night, Willow and Tara's bedroom was bathed in a dim, eerie moonlight as the two women peacefully slumbered. Then, suddenly, a candle in a glass holder was hurled against the wall above their heads, shattering with a deafening crash. Shards of glass rained down on them, and Tara screamed in terror, jolting awake, her heart racing.
As they sat up, disoriented and trembling, they were met with the sight of Buffy, her presence ominous and her expression filled with anger and accusation.
"Buffy?" Willow ventured hesitantly, her voice quivering with fear.
"What did you do?" Buffy demanded; her voice laced with fury. "Do you know what you did? You're like children! Your hands smell of death! Bitches! Filthy little bitches, rattling the bones. Did you cut a throat? Did you pat its head?" She grabbed a crystal ball off the dresser and hurled it at them with a forceful throw.
Willow and Tara managed to duck just in time as the crystal ball shattered against the wall, its pieces scattering across the floor.
"The blood dried on your hands, didn't it? You were stained," Buffy accused them, her words cutting like a knife. "You still are."
Tara's voice quivered with fear as she whispered, "Oh God, oh God, oh God."
"I know what you did!" Buffy continued, her tone accusing and filled with rage.
With a surge of determination, Willow jumped out of bed and switched on the lights, casting a revealing glow on their surroundings. But Buffy had vanished into thin air, leaving them bewildered and terrified.
Tara, trembling, looked over at the table that had held the candle and the crystal ball, and to their relief, both items were exactly where they should be.
Tara glanced around the bed, panic still coursing through her. "No glass. There's no glass."
"I'm going to check on Buffy," Willow said as she and Tara hurried out of the room and down the hall, their footsteps hushed in the quiet of the night. Willow gently cracked Buffy's door open, and they peered inside. To their astonishment, their friend lay sound asleep in her pajamas, her peaceful slumber undisturbed.
Willow and Tara exchanged bewildered glances, their faces a mixture of confusion and fear. Willow closed Buffy's bedroom door with a soft click, and they both retreated to their own room. As Willow closed the door behind them, she couldn't contain her bewilderment any longer. "Okay, what in the frilly heck is going on?"
Tara considered the possibilities, her brow furrowed in thought. "Maybe we dreamed it."
Willow hesitated for a moment, trying to make sense of their inexplicable encounter. "Right. Right," she said but then realization struck her. "Wrong." She pointed at their heads. "Different brains."
Tara nodded in agreement, acknowledging the impossibility of it being a shared dream. "Oh, yeah." They both fell into a thoughtful silence, pondering the bizarre encounter. Tara finally broke the silence with a question. "What was it talking about? Did you understand it?"
Willow shook her head, her expression troubled. "I understood the words, but… no."
Tara's gasp cut through the stillness of the room, and both women turned their attention to the source of her alarm. They watched in dread as a shadowy distortion rippled across the wall, its eerie presence sending shivers down their spines.
Willow turned to Tara, her eyes wide with fear. "What was that?" she asked, her voice trembling.
Tara's voice quivered as she replied, "There's, there's something in the house."
The thought of an unknown entity lurking in their home sent a surge of panic through Willow. "What is it?" she asked, her concern for Buffy and her unborn baby paramount in her mind. "Could it hurt Buffy and her baby?"
Tara shook her head, her uncertainty mirrored in her eyes. "I don't know."
Determined to take action, Willow made up her mind. "I'm gonna call," she said, moving to the phone to dial Xander's number.
October 3, 2001 – Wednesday
The next morning, Buffy sat down with Dawn, her eyes distant yet filled with a mix of wonder and sorrow. She took a deep breath and began recounting the extraordinary tale of her journey to Narnia.
"Okay, Dawn, you won't believe what happened after I jumped into that portal. I was falling, feeling like I was being pulled in all directions, and then suddenly, I was in a snowy forest, trees covered in glistening frost." As Buffy spoke, her voice trembled with emotion, remembering the adventures she had in Narnia, a land unlike any other. "I found myself in Narnia, a magical world ruled by a wicked White Witch who had plunged the land into eternal winter, but never Christmas. Standing around me were four teenagers, the Pevensies. There was Peter, the eldest brother, all responsible and heroic; Edmund, the younger brother, and a bit of a troublemaker; Susan, the eldest sister, who was always the sensible one, and Lucy, the youngest sister, but also the bravest. They later told me there was this magical wardrobe that brought them from their time to Narnia.
"Their time?" Dawn asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.
"They were from our past, the 1940s. Narnia must exist out of our concept of time for them and I to be there at the same time," Buffy explained. "The first thing we did was look for a faun that Lucy had befriended her first time in Narnia. Sadly, he had been captured by the White Witch. It was then that a robin led us to the Beavers. Mr. and Mrs. Beaver told us about Aslan and this prophecy about five sons and daughters of Adam and Eve sitting on the five thrones of Cair Paravel. But during that time, Edmund had slipped away unnoticed. It was then that we learned from Lucy that Edmund too had been to Narnia once before and he had met the White Witch."
Dawn's curiosity deepened as she listened intently. "What happened to him?" she wondered.
"I'll get to that," Buffy said patiently, knowing that there was much more to the story. "I didn't want to leave Edmund behind, and neither did his brother and sisters. But the Beavers persuaded us that the only way to save Edmund was with the help of Aslan. So, we took what supplies we carried and headed out. On our way, we stopped and took shelter in a cave. I was standing guard outside the following morning when I heard sleigh bells."
"Sleigh bells?" Dawn asked, her confusion evident in her furrowed brow.
Buffy smiled, relishing the chance to share her incredible adventure. "At first, I thought maybe the White Witch had found us. But Lucy, who had come to check on me, had gotten Mr. Beaver. He came out and confirmed it wasn't her. You remember how I said it was eternal winter, but never Christmas?"
"Yeah," Dawn replied, her interest piqued.
"Well, I guess the five of us had set in motion events that caused the White Witch to lose her grip on the land, as it began to thaw. So, on that day when I heard the sleigh bells…" Buffy began.
Dawn's eyes went wide in surprise as she completed her sister's thought, her voice filled with wonder, "Are you saying Santa Claus is real?"
"I am," Buffy replied, her eyes twinkling with the magic of the memory. "Except in that land, he goes by the name of Father Christmas. He gave each of us a gift that would be used when we fought the White Witch and her army. He also gave Peter a special gift to be given to me only when he thought it was the right time."
"What gift?" Dawn wondered; her curiosity piqued.
Buffy held up the diamond ring that adorned her ring finger, its facets glinting in the light. "I will tell you about that ring in a little bit and how I got it. Well, after that, we made the journey to meet Aslan, who is a Lion, by the way. It was then that events were set in motion for Edmund's return. He was retrieved from the White Witch, who came claiming Edmund's life because he was deemed a traitor and was hers to take. Aslan made a deal with the White Witch, and he went in Edmund's place."
"He did for Edmund what you did for me?" Dawn asked, her voice filled with understanding.
"Yes," Buffy replied, her gaze distant as she remembered the sacrifice. "He gave his life for Edmund. He was killed on this stone table, and if the White Witch had known, she would not have killed him there. For there was an inscription that stated someone who died for another would come back from the dead. So, after Aslan was killed by the White Witch, he was resurrected because death held no sway over him. Susan, Lucy, and I went with Aslan to get reinforcements from the people the White Witch had turned to stone. Aslan used his powers to turn everyone back, and then we rushed back to Peter and Edmund. We defeated the White Witch then."
"We were taken to Cair Paravel, where Peter, Edmund, Susan, and Lucy were crowned. I was about to be crowned when Peter dropped to one knee and pulled out the ring and he proposed."
Dawn's eyes widened in surprise. "He proposed?" she asked, her disbelief evident in her voice. "How old was he?"
Buffy's face lit up with a wistful smile as she remembered that magical moment. "Nineteen," she answered, her tone carrying a hint of youthful innocence. "A year younger than I was. We were then married by Aslan himself shortly before I was crowned. I wish you could have been there, Dawn. It was a beautiful ceremony."
Dawn's heart swelled with a mixture of regret and curiosity as she listened to Buffy's story. "I wish I could have been there too," she said softly. "So, you lived with him for… what, a few months before coming…"
Buffy's hand gently caressed her pregnant belly as she spoke, a sense of maternal warmth radiating from her. "Years, Dawnie," she corrected, her voice filled with deep affection. "I was in my forties when I got pregnant. Then Mr. Tumnus had come to tell Peter, Edmund, Susan, and Lucy about this White Stag, that if anyone caught it would grant their wishes. Well, they went to hunt the stag and found their way back home to the 1940s. It was at that point that Willow's spell pulled me out of Narnia."
Dawn couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder at the incredible journey her sister had experienced, a journey that had spanned decades in a magical world. She realized how much she had missed of her sister's life, but there was also a deep sense of love and connection between them, transcending time and distance.
"There is something else, Dawn," Buffy said, her tone serious and contemplative. "When Edmund was reunited with Peter, Susan, and Lucy, I saw how they forgave him. And it made me realize something. Edmund and Faith had tread similar paths. If they can forgive Edmund, I can forgive Faith."
"That's incredible, Buffy," Dawn said, her voice filled with admiration. "You've been through so much, and it's amazing how you've grown and learned from your experiences. I think Faith will appreciate your forgiveness more than you know."
Buffy smiled, her eyes shimmering with a mix of emotions. "I hope so, Dawn. We all make mistakes, and sometimes it takes a journey, whether it's through a magical land like Narnia or just through life itself, to understand the power of forgiveness and second chances."
0 – 0 – 0 – 0 – 0
Outside, Willow, Tara, Xander, and Anya were gathered. Tara and Xander sat on the only two lawn chairs, their faces etched with worry and uncertainty. Anya tried to balance on the arm of Xander's chair, her expression curious and analytical, as though she was trying to make sense of the bizarre situation unfolding before her.
"It was very bad," Xander said, his voice tinged with a sense of unease. His words carried the weight of the disturbing encounter, and his tone hinted at the trauma he had experienced. "Very, very, very, very, very, very bad. Bad."
"He's all traumatized," Anya said matter-of-fact, her words devoid of empathy but filled with a stark observation of Xander's state.
"Well, whatever it is, it's not a traditional haunting, because it's not limited to one specific place and there's not, you know, a dead person," Willow said, her voice carrying a sense of rationality and logic in the face of the supernatural. Her brow furrowed in thought, revealing her determination to unravel the mystery.
"Not anymore," Tara added softly.
"I bet it's a hitchhiker," Anya chimed in, her words filled with a mixture of curiosity and intrigue.
"A hitchhiker?" Xander asked, his voice laced with skepticism and a hint of fear, his unease now amplified by the idea of a supernatural stowaway.
Anya nodded; her expression serious. "Standard way to travel between alternate dimensions. Some thing-ama-demon sees someone moving between worlds, and grabs on for the ride."
"You mean some Hell beastie rode back with Buffy. Like… we're responsible for this," Willow said, her tone filled with guilt and concern. Her brow furrowed deeper as she contemplated the implications of their actions.
"Assume crash positions," Tara said, her voice tinged with a touch of dark humor.
"What?" Xander asked, confusion evident in his voice as he tried to make sense of Tara's cryptic statement.
"Nothing," Tara replied, her voice softening.
"I think we shouldn't've brought Buffy back. Not only did we rip her from her happily ever after. But I knew it was going to go badly. I should've said something," Anya admitted, her voice filled with regret and self-blame, the weight of their actions heavy on her shoulders.
"Hey, you know what, yeah!" Willow said, her tone tinged with frustration as she turned to Anya. "You should've! At least you could've mentioned the 'hitchhikers' so we could stop 'em!"
"They're hitchhikers, not highjackers, and I thought you knew!" Anya replied, her words carrying a mix of exasperation and annoyance. "It's basic stuff! You're supposed to be the all-powerful witch, which—"
"Witch-witch?" Xander interjected, cutting off his girlfriend's scolding.
"Witch, which raises the question, why are you having us skulk around and meet in the backyard like… like conspiracy squirrels?" Anya asked, her frustration evident as she tried to find a comfortable position on the chair arm. "Sitting on this arm is making my buttocks hurt."
"Buffy's talking to Dawn," Willow said, her voice carrying a sense of urgency. "I think she's telling Dawn everything that happened in that other world."
"What are we going to do?" Xander asked, his voice filled with a mix of anxiety and determination. "I mean, I'm feeling the need for some vigorous doing, you know?"
"It's okay," Willow said, trying to infuse a sense of confidence into her words. "We kill the beastie and all is good, we're rolling in puppies!" Her attempt at humor was met with a heavy silence. "Right?"
"Can we do that?" Xander asked, his concern deepening. "Kill it?"
"Are we killing something?" Buffy's voice rang out as she walked out the back door, holding a mug of coffee. Her sudden appearance startled Willow and Tara, and they let out a surprised, "Yah!" before quickly regaining their composure.
"Buffy!" Willow exclaimed. "You're supposed to be talking to Dawn!"
"How are you feeling? Are you okay?" Tara asked, her voice filled with genuine concern for her friend.
Buffy smiled, her demeanor surprisingly calm in the face of the looming threat. "I'm fine, really. So, what are we killing?"
"A demon you brought back from the other…" Anya began, but Buffy interrupted with a correction.
"Narnia," Buffy said. "Where I was, it's called Narnia."
Anya nodded, acknowledging the correction. "…from Narnia with you."
"It's not like she's making it sound," Willow said, attempting to downplay the seriousness of the situation. "A little haunting-type stuff. Boo-scary, then everything's normal."
"You shouldn't worry about it," Tara added, her voice soft and reassuring as her gaze flickered to Buffy's pregnant belly, hinting at the unspoken concern for the safety of both Buffy and her unborn child.
Wait. Last night. Something happened," Buffy said, her voice tinged with concern. "The photographs. Of us… Of Dawn. They changed."
"How did they change?" Tara questioned; her curiosity piqued.
"They were dead. I mean, we were dead. Like dead bodies. Then they were okay. I thought maybe it was me. That I was going crazy," Buffy explained, her unease evident in her words.
"Maybe you are!" Anya blurted out, earning a glare from Willow. She quickly amended, "No," in a more subdued tone. "You're fine."
"You are. Buffy, we're so glad," Willow said, her voice filled with sincerity and relief.
"Yeah. This thing, this haunting thing, we'll fix it, and then we'll still have you back, which is… it's so important," Xander chimed in, his words reflecting the depth of their friendship.
"Yes," Willow agreed, her eyes brimming with emotion.
"It's wonderful," Tara added, her warm smile conveying a sense of hope in the face of adversity.
"Thanks, guys," Buffy said, her voice filled with genuine gratitude. "Really. While yes, there may be some stuff I have to work through because of losing my husband and my siblings-in-law, I'm happy to be back with you guys." She looked at Willow and Tara pointedly. "Really."
Willow and Tara exchanged a meaningful glance, realizing that Buffy had overheard their conversation from last night. Their expressions softened, and they nodded in understanding.
"That said, I'm still the Slayer, even though I'm five months pregnant. I still have a job to do," Buffy continued, her determination shining through. "So we should work and figure this thing out."
"Right," Willow agreed, her resolve matching Buffy's.
"Can we go somewhere with cushions?" Anya asked, her practicality shining through. "Let's go somewhere with cushions."
Uhm, why don't you all go on inside," Buffy said, her voice gentle but with a hint of seriousness. "I need to talk to Tara alone for a moment."
As Xander, Anya, and Willow headed inside, Tara hung back, her curiosity piqued by Buffy's request. She waited, her concern and anticipation mingling in the cool air as she wondered what Buffy needed to discuss with her in private.
"Hey, Tara," Buffy began, her voice hesitant. "Can I ask you something? Do you have a driver's license?"
Tara blinked in surprise but nodded. "Yes, I do. Why do you ask?"
Buffy hesitated for a moment before she revealed her request. "Well, Tara, I was wondering if you could drive me to Los Angeles."
Tara's curiosity deepened as she asked, "Why do you want to go to Los Angeles?"
Buffy took a deep breath before admitting her reason. "I want to visit Faith in prison."
"Why wouldn't you ask Xander?" Tara asked, her confusion evident. She knew that Xander had a driver's license and a car, making him a more conventional choice for such a trip.
Buffy sighed, her eyes reflecting a mix of emotions. "I know you only met Faith once, and that was during the body swap," she explained. "So, you don't know her well enough to hold a grudge or anything. But Xander and Willow do know her. They would likely try to talk me out of this. I want to go to L.A. and apologize for turning my back on her. For giving up on her. I want to ask for her forgiveness and tell her I forgive her for everything that went down." Buffy's voice held a hint of vulnerability as she shared her deeply personal reasons for wanting to make the journey.
Tara nodded in understanding, her empathy for Buffy evident in her gentle expression. "I see," she said softly, her voice filled with compassion. "It sounds like you have some important things to say to her."
Buffy offered a small, appreciative smile. "Yeah, I do. I just hope she's willing to listen."
Tara reached out and placed a reassuring hand on Buffy's arm. "I'm sure she will, Buffy. You're taking a big step by wanting to make amends. I'll be happy to drive you to Los Angeles."
Buffy's eyes softened as she looked at Tara with gratitude. "Thank you, Tara. I really appreciate it. And... thanks for not questioning my decision too much."
Tara smiled warmly. "Sometimes, we just need to follow our hearts, Buffy. I understand that."
The Magic Box
Buffy, Xander, Anya, Willow, and Tara sat around the table in the Magic Box, engrossed in their research. Buffy flipped through a dusty old book as Dawn leaned over her shoulder, curiosity evident on her face. "What are you researching?" Dawn asked, her interest piqued.
"Possible hitchhikers," Anya replied matter-of-factly.
"Demons that might have come out of Narnia at the same time Buffy did," Xander added, his tone serious.
Dawn's eyes wandered over to the notepad beside Tara, where she read out loud, "Skaggmore demons, Trellbane demons, Skitterers, Large and Small Bone-Eaters…" She paused for dramatic effect. "If we get to pick, I say we go with the Small Bone-Eaters."
Anya chimed in, "That just means they prefer eating things with little bones, like you."
Willow interjected, "That's just what we have so far," her voice filled with determination. "Five species of demons that have been known to move transdimensionally. Two of them may be invisible in this dimension and two others can perform spells to alter perception."
"That's four. What's the other one like?" Anya questioned; her curiosity unabated.
Tara thought for a moment before responding, "Kind of like the others, only dripping with viscous fluid."
"Eww," Dawn exclaimed, her reaction mirroring the sentiment of the group.
"So, should we concentrate on how to kill those, or should we try to find more?" Xander asked, bringing the conversation back to the task at hand.
"I'm not sure," Willow said, her mind racing with possibilities. "I guess… Maybe some of us could keep going, finding more, and the others—"
"I miss Giles," Buffy interjected, her voice filled with a sense of longing and nostalgia.
"Oh. He's coming back," Willow said, her words carrying a note of relief. "I talked to him. I know I'm a kind of poor substitute, but until then, we'll get it done…"
Buffy stood up; her restlessness evident. "I think I should patrol," she said, her voice filled with a restless energy.
Willow flinched a little, interpreting Buffy's decision as a lack of faith in her research. "I know we'll find something soon!"
"Will, I trust you," Buffy reassured her, noting Willow's reaction. "I'm just antsy." She glanced over at Dawn. "Hey, how would you like to come with?"
Dawn's eyes widened in surprise. "You want to take me on patrol?"
"I think it's time I start training you," Buffy said, her voice carrying a sense of responsibility. "Go grab a couple swords out of the training room."
Dawn's face lit up with excitement as she hurried into the training room.
Restfield Cemetery
In the dimly lit cemetery, Buffy and Dawn stood facing each other, each holding a sword. The moonlight cast eerie shadows among the gravestones, creating a haunting atmosphere. Buffy had a determined look on her face, while Dawn was a mix of excitement and nervousness.
"Okay, Dawn," Buffy began, her voice calm and reassuring. "The key to sword fighting is balance and control. You need to keep your stance steady and your movements precise."
Dawn nodded, trying to absorb Buffy's instructions. She gripped her sword with both hands, mirroring Buffy's stance as closely as she could.
Buffy demonstrated a few basic moves, her sword gliding through the air with grace. "Like this," she said, emphasizing the fluidity of her motions. "It's all about anticipating your opponent's moves and reacting quickly."
Dawn watched attentively; her eyes focused on Buffy's every move. She tried to mimic her sister's actions, but her initial attempts were a bit clumsy.
Buffy smiled encouragingly. "Don't worry, Dawn. It takes time to get the hang of it. Let's start with some simple strikes and blocks."
For the next hour, they practiced under the moonlit sky, the sound of clashing swords filling the air. Buffy patiently guided Dawn through the motions, offering tips and corrections along the way. Dawn's confidence grew with each passing minute, and she began to move with more precision and control.
As they continued to spar, Buffy couldn't help but feel a sense of pride in her sister's determination and progress. Dawn was proving to be a quick learner, and Buffy knew that with time and practice, she could become a skilled duelist.
Finally, they paused to catch their breath, their swords lowered. Dawn's face was flushed with exertion, but she wore a satisfied grin.
"Wow, Buffy, that was amazing!" Dawn exclaimed, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm.
Buffy returned the smile, feeling a sense of accomplishment. "You did great, Dawn. Remember, this is just the beginning. We'll keep practicing, and soon you'll be able to handle yourself out here."
"Can I ask, why did you want to train me?" Dawn questioned causing Buffy to reflect on her decision. Memories of her time in Narnia as the High Queen flooded her mind, and she contemplated how that experience had shaped her perspective.
Finally, she spoke, her voice filled with sincerity. "Dawn, when I was in Narnia, I saw the importance of standing up for what's right and protecting those who can't protect themselves. Being a leader there taught me the value of being strong, not just physically, but in character and courage."
She looked into Dawn's eyes, her expression earnest. "I want to train you because I want you to be able to defend yourself and the people you care about. I want you to have the skills and the confidence to face the challenges that come your way. And most importantly, I want you to be prepared, no matter what."
Dawn nodded, her eyes reflecting understanding and appreciation for Buffy's words. She knew that her sister's experiences in Narnia had deeply impacted her, and she was grateful for the opportunity to learn from her.
"I'm glad you're teaching me, Buffy," Dawn said, her voice filled with determination. "I want to be ready, too."
Magic Box
It was very late, and the exhaustion was evident on the faces of Willow, Tara, and Xander as they continued their research. Their heads rested heavily on their hands, and weariness hung in the air like a heavy fog.
Anya walked through the front door, her arrival bringing a glimmer of hope as she carried take-out cups of coffee. "I found a 24-hour place for coffee. Remember that bookstore? Well, they became one of those books-and-coffee places, and now they're just coffee. It's like evolution only without the getting-better part." She set the drinks out on the counter. "Coffee, coffee, and coffee."
Tara's head whipped toward Anya, her eyes startling white as her expression twisted in a sudden burst of anger. "Idiot." Her voice was harsh and accusing as she addressed Willow and Xander. "All of you did it. Stupid children, did you think the blood wouldn't reach you? I smell the death on you, LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE!"
Fear gripped Willow, Xander, and Anya as Tara's outburst intensified. Suddenly, fire erupted from her mouth, sending them diving to the side in a desperate attempt to avoid the flames. The fire quickly caught some of the books on the table, and they began to burn.
Tara then collapsed to the floor, unconscious, leaving Willow in a state of panic. "Tara!" she cried worriedly for her girlfriend.
Xander sprang into action, realizing the danger of the spreading flames. "Fire, fire, fire," he shouted. He grabbed a cushion from Anya's chair and used it to smother the flames, doing his best to contain the fire.
"Oh my God, oh my God," Willow sobbed as she rushed over to Tara, her heart pounding with fear and concern. She knelt beside her unconscious girlfriend, desperate to find a way to help her.
Anya watched with a hint of melancholy as Xander put out the last of the fire with the now-singed cushion. "I liked that cushion," she said sadly, her priorities slightly askew even in the midst of the chaos.
Willow contemplated what had just occurred. "That was it. Like Buffy," she said, her voice filled with a sense of realization. "Only with fire."
Xander's attention shifted from the cushion to Tara. "Is she okay?" he asked, his concern for her evident.
Anya couldn't resist chiming in, her tone candid as ever. "Did I look like that? I hope I didn't look like that."
Willow couldn't help but add a touch of humor to the situation. "No, I'm sure you looked really glamorous cutting up your face."
Tara slowly opened her eyes. "What happened? What's going on?" she asked, her confusion apparent as she tried to make sense of the recent events.
"You'll be okay," Willow assured Tara, pulling her into a comforting embrace.
"I bet you experienced some dry-mouth," Anya chimed in. When Tara gave her a blank look, Anya clarified, "Fire."
Tara's gaze shifted to Willow. "So did the demon…" she said, her voice filled with concern as she remembered the fiery outburst.
"It did," Willow confirmed, her words comforting. "But you're okay now."
"Yeah. It's gone," Xander added, his voice filled with relief.
"Yes. But where did it go? I mean, evil things have plans. They have things to do," Anya said, her practicality kicking in as she considered the implications of the demon's disappearance.
Spike's crypt
Spike was in the lower level of his crypt. It was decorated like an apartment with chairs, tables, and dimly lit by a single flickering candle. His leather coat billowed and snapped as he paced back and forth, the heavy atmosphere of the underground chamber mirroring his inner turmoil.
Without warning, he spun toward the wall and delivered a powerful punch, the impact resonating with the weight of his frustration. "Dammit!" he exclaimed, his hand now scraped and bleeding from the brutal encounter with the unyielding stone. He stared at his wounded hand, a sound escaping him—a mixture of anguish and despair. It was a sob, raw and unexpected. But then, as if the pent-up emotions had found an escape route, he began to laugh, a manic and cathartic release.
Suddenly, a noise from upstairs shattered the fragile peace of the crypt. Spike tensed, his senses on high alert. With a swift, almost predatory grace, he grabbed a nasty-looking knife from a wall-mounted collection of arms. With the blade gleaming menacingly in the dim light, he headed for the ladder, determination etched on his face.
Spike emerged at the top of the ladder, his cold, blue eyes scanning the room. And there she was, Buffy, standing with her back to him, surveying the eerie decor. He approached her, silently, his presence looming like a shadow.
"Buffy?" he whispered softly, his voice a fragile thread in the heavy silence that enveloped them.
Buffy turned around, her hazel eyes meeting his intense gaze, and she couldn't help but notice the knife clenched in his hand, a weapon poised for protection.
"You should be careful," Spike said gently, his voice laced with an emotion he couldn't quite hide. "Never know what kind of villain's got a knife at your back."
Buffy's gaze dropped from the knife to his hand, and her concern was evident. "Your hand is hurt," she observed, her voice filled with a mixture of empathy and worry, as she noticed the scraped and bleeding appendage.
Spike gently placed the knife on a nearby surface, his tense posture gradually relaxing as he spoke. "Willow's getting pretty strong, isn't she? Bringing you back. Hard to get a good night's death 'round here."
Buffy contemplated his words, her thoughts lingering on the surreal nature of her return. "Funny," she mused, a faint smile touching her lips. "Given I'm not sure I was actually dead or not. I mean I spent decades in Narnia, yet here I was dead. So…"
Spike nodded, acknowledging the bizarre circumstances that surrounded her resurrection. He gestured toward a chair. "You can sit, if you want. Got furniture. You should see the downstairs, too. Quite posh." Buffy obliged and settled into the chair while Spike took a seat opposite her.
"I do remember what I said. The promise. To protect her. If I'd done that… even if I didn't make it, you wouldn't've had to jump," Spike admitted, his voice tinged with remorse.
Buffy, now gently rubbing her pregnant belly, looked at him with a warm and understanding gaze. "Spike, it's okay," she reassured him, her voice soft and filled with gratitude. "If you had, I would not have met the most loving husband I will likely ever have. And I wouldn't have the privilege of being a mother now."
Spike met her eyes, a mixture of emotions flickering across his face, from regret to something deeper and more complex. "Still," he replied, his voice sincere, "if I had it to do over again, I would have done everything I could to save you."
A small, tender smile graced Buffy's lips. "I know," she said, her voice filled with affection. "And I appreciate that."
October 4, 2001 – Thursday
The Magic Box
Dawn lay her head on the table, her soft breathing accompanied by the faint rustle of pages. The dimly lit room was a sanctuary of quietude, its occupants lost in slumber. Even Anya, known for her perpetual alertness, had succumbed to the embrace of dreams.
Tara and Willow, the diligent researchers, continued to page through their tomes, their fingers tracing the words of hidden knowledge. Xander, however, had turned his gaze to the window, where the first hints of dawn painted the sky with delicate hues of pink and orange.
As the first rays of sunlight pierced through the curtains, Tara noticed the subtle transformation in the world outside. She walked over to Xander, her footsteps barely making a sound on the old, creaky floor. Her presence brought a modicum of comfort to the otherwise tense atmosphere.
Xander's voice, gentle as the morning light, broke the silence, his words filled with a sense of anticipation. "It's getting light out. Buffy's probably on her way home, finishing off what she started with Dawn."
Tara couldn't help but find solace in the emerging day, although her perspective was unique. Her voice was soft, carrying the weight of her introspection. "I like sunrise better when I'm getting up early than when I'm staying up late, you know? It's like I'm seeing it from the wrong side."
Amidst the stillness of the room, their voices whispered like secrets shared between friends. Xander leaned in, the gravity of his words demanding privacy. "Hey, Tara. This is probably crazy, but I was talking to Spike…"
Tara responded with a warm, knowing smile that danced in her eyes. "Really? You two mix about as well as Satyrion seed and powdered turtledove."
Xander acknowledged her jest with a soft chuckle. "But thing is, Spike made me think. The spell we did. It's having consequences, isn't it? I mean, it sure seems like it. And I was wondering... did you know this might happen?"
Tara's reply came with a sense of urgency, her voice carrying a trace of anxiety. "No!"
Xander turned his attention back to Willow, who remained engrossed in the pages before her. His worry was palpable, and he couldn't help but voice his concerns. "Do you think… could someone have known?"
Tara's unwavering faith in her girlfriend showed in her response. She looked over at Willow, a mixture of love and concern in her eyes. "Willow's a talented witch, and she'd never do anything to hurt anyone."
Xander nodded, understanding the importance of trust, but still, his apprehension lingered. "I know, I know. Backing off quickly, see, hands in the air, I just mean—"
Just as the conversation reached a critical juncture, Willow's voice interjected with a sudden, dramatic revelation. The room seemed to hold its breath as the atmosphere shifted, and even Xander and Tara were taken by surprise.
"Thaumogenesis!" Willow exclaimed.
The abrupt exclamation startled Xander, his eyes widening in disbelief as he tried to grasp the implications of the word. Tara's concern deepened, and she instinctively moved closer to Willow.
Dawn and Anya, abruptly awakened by the unexpected outburst, added to the chaos. Panic swept through the room as Anya, her voice fraught with fear, blurted out, "She's possessed!"
"Thaumogenesis," Willow repeated, her voice tinged with a mix of fascination and concern.
Dawn, ever the quick learner, nodded in agreement Anya's assessment. "You're right."
Willow, her voice trembling with the weight of her revelation, sought to clarify the dire situation. "I'm not possessed. It's just, I think I figured it out. This isn't a demon we let out. This is a demon we made."
The room seemed to collectively gasp at this revelation. Xander's self-deprecating humor took a more somber tone. "We made a demon? Bad us."
Willow continued to explain, her words measured and deliberate. "Thaumogenesis is when doing a spell actually creates a being. In this case, it was, like, a side-effect, I guess. Like a price."
Dawn's expression mirrored her confusion as she sought clarification. "What?"
Willow's explanation continued, the room's atmosphere growing increasingly charged with apprehension. "Think of it like, the world doesn't like you getting something for free. We asked for this huge gift — Buffy — and the world said, fine. If you get that, you have to take this too… and it made the demon."
Anya, always practical in her thinking, chimed in with her unique perspective. "Technically, that's not a price. That's a gift with purchase."
Dawn, eager to understand the situation, raised a pertinent question. "If you made a demon, how come we don't see it? I mean, we just see us, doing stuff."
Willow's explanation was laced with a sense of unease. "I think it's out of phase with this dimension. Its consciousness is here, but its body is caught in the ether between existing and not existing."
Tara, who had been observing the unfolding conversation with rapt attention, spoke softly, her voice carrying the weight of realization. "It doesn't have a body… so it's borrowing ours… It borrowed mine and Anya…"
Willow nodded in agreement, her words revealing the disturbing truth. "Or it's manifesting copies of them, like it did when Buffy came at us…"
Tara affirmed their understanding of the situation. "It's using them to do stuff. To scare us, attack us."
Xander, ever pragmatic, sought a solution. "So, we need to uncreate it, right? Get it the rest of the way out of our world."
Anya, in her own inimitable way, summed up their predicament metaphorically. "He's right. Return the unwanted gift. Metaphorically it works out exactly right."
Willow, the bearer of unsettling truths, scanned through the books, her expression grave. "Uh-huh. Except... it's linked to the spell. When we send it away, it's like the spell doesn't exist. Like it never happened."
Dawn, who had hoped for the impossible, was faced with the heartbreaking reality. "Like it never brought Buffy back."
Willow's response was somber and final, her words echoing the gravity of their decision. "Yes."
Dawn's voice was a silent storm, demanding attention and understanding from those around her. She fixed her gaze on Willow, her eyes filled with a mix of desperation and anger. "You can't do that. You can't think for a second that you're going to do that."
Anya began to respond, "Dawn—"
Dawn didn't waver, keeping her gaze locked on Willow. "If you think you can not only give Buffy back to me but allow me the hope that I'm going to be an aunt and then take them away again... No. That's worse than if you'd never brought Buffy back. You can't mess with people's lives this way! What about what would happen to her? You'd send her back to Narnia where she would be alone. Her husband and siblings-in-law would be gone. Where she would be the only remaining Royal. She'd be alone with only her loyal subjects as company."
Willow, understanding the gravity of Dawn's pain, offered reassurance. "No, Dawn. We're not going to do it that way."
Dawn turned to the others, seeking support from her surrogate family. Her voice cracked as she appealed to them, tears welling in her eyes. "How can you let her do this? How can you even talk about letting them go? I thought you loved her too!"
Tara, compassionate and understanding, tried to calm Dawn's fears. "We do. Honey, you're not listening. She said we'll find another way."
Xander nodded in agreement, his voice sincere. "We will."
Dawn, her emotional turmoil laid bare, implored them all. "Then do it! I want to see her bring my niece or nephew into the world. I want to be there alongside my sister, helping her to raise them."
Willow, immersed in her research, had an epiphany that brought a smile to her face. "Wait. Dawn. Everyone hold on."
Anya, ever direct, couldn't help but question the appropriateness of her smile. "What? Why are you smiling?" She then turned her gaze to Xander. "That's inappropriate."
Willow explained her revelation, her voice a mixture of relief and optimism. "Because it's temporary."
Xander, perplexed, sought clarification. "What is?"
Willow continued, revealing the lifeline they desperately needed. "The demon. It's going to dissipate. The only way it can survive on our plane is if it was to kill the subject of the original spell."
Tara sought further clarification; her concern evident. "It would live if it killed Buffy?"
Willow affirmed; her words filled with assurance. "Right, but that's not gonna—"
But Xander's response was abrupt and unexpected. "Thanks for the tip," he suddenly said. As their heads turned to him, they saw his eyes had gone white, a haunting sign that he was being possessed. Then, in an alarming turn of events, he collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
Summers Home
Buffy entered the house, exhaustion etched on her face. She had just returned from her patrol, and her steps were slow and deliberate. Her words carried a touch of wisdom and weariness as she issued a reminder to herself. "Reminder," she said, her voice tinged with experience, "When pregnant, patrolling not as easy and more physically tiring."
Unbeknownst to her, a swirling milky-white cloud began to manifest behind her, gradually taking form as it ascended the stairs. As it moved upward, it transitioned into the ethereal shape of a woman, still misty and elusive, yet distinctly present.
Buffy entered her room, her exhaustion weighing her down as she made her way toward the bed. Unbeknownst to her, the milky-white woman-demon launched a sudden and vicious attack. At first, it appeared as nothing more than a cloudy, ethereal arc that slammed into Buffy's chest, propelling her backward.
Desperation and fear filled Buffy's eyes as she struck at the misty assailant, her fists passing harmlessly through the ephemeral form. The demon, its watery voice echoing with haunting intensity, spoke with eerie determination. "You don't belong here."
A second arc projected from the mist, this time solidifying into a clenched white fist that struck Buffy's head with a force that whipped it around. The demon's words cut through the tension in the room. "Did they tell you that you belonged here? Did they say this was your home again? Did they say there would be room for you?"
Buffy, struggling against the relentless assault, reacted with a mix of defiance and strength. She managed to catch the demon in her grasp for a fleeting moment before it dissolved into mist once more.
The demon's mist swirled menacingly around Buffy, enveloping her in a chilling embrace. Two thin, ghostly arms formed, wrapping around her like a coiling snake, intent on crushing her. The demon's voice, still watery and eerie, continued to taunt Buffy. "Were you offered pretty lies, little girl?" it asked, its tone dripping with malevolence. "Or did they even give you a choice?"
Streets of Sunnydale
Xander was behind the wheel, with Anya in the passenger seat and Dawn in the back, their faces etched with worry and urgency.
Dawn's desperation rang in her voice as she pleaded, "Xander! Drive faster!"
Xander, his eyes locked on the road, replied with a sense of helplessness. "I can't."
Dawn, frustration mounting, retorted, "I could drive faster, and I can't even drive!"
Anya, never one to mince words, added her own colorful commentary. "She's right. You're like a snail. A snail that is driving a car very slowly."
Anya's tone shifted to urgency as the gravity of the situation weighed on her. "Come on! Give it the lead foot! We've got to help Buffy with that demon you sent after her!"
Xander, his focus on the road unwavering, corrected the record. "I did not send the demon — I was possessed! The demon used me to eavesdrop on our conversation—"
Anya, always pragmatic, didn't mince words. "Great. So now what? We can only talk in anti-demon secret code?"
"Good-gay idea-yay, An-ya-ay," Xander quipped in Pig Latin, a hint of humor amid the tension.
Dawn, her patience dwindling, urged him, "Stop talking in wrong Pig Latin and drive! My sister and unborn niece or nephew are in trouble!"
Xander reassured her, trying to quell her anxiety. "It's okay, Dawnie. Willow and Tara are doing a spell."
Dawn's concern was palpable as she questioned, "It's not gonna send Buffy away, is it?"
Xander shook his head vehemently. "No, of course not. It's just that she can't fight this thing while it's all… misty. So, they make it more solid, and then Buffy can kick its newly-corporeal ass."
Dawn sought one final reassurance. "You sure it'll work?"
With unwavering confidence, Xander replied, "You bet. Piece of cake."
Anya, ever the realist, added her own sense of urgency. "Right. Easy peasy." Then, under her breath and directed at Xander, she said, "Hurry." They were racing against time to save Buffy and her unborn child.
Magic Box
Willow and Tara, their voices hushed in the dimly lit room, sat on the floor with their hands joined. Their eyes held a solemn determination as they began their incantation, seeking to resolve the perilous situation they had unwittingly brought upon themselves.
"Child of words, hear thy makers," they chanted in unison. "Child of words, we entreat. With our actions did we make thee, to our voices wilt thou bend..."
Summers Home
Buffy, her determination unwavering, managed to break free from the misty, thin white arms that had been attempting to ensnare her. She swiftly turned to confront the half-formed demon, its appearance a disconcerting blend of solid limbs and swirling, cloud-like head and torso. The creature, though insubstantial in parts, emanated an aura of strength and menace.
The demon, with a sudden burst of power, delivered a powerful punch that sent Buffy sprawling to the ground. She landed awkwardly, one of her arms slipping beneath the bed, trapped by the demon's assault. As Buffy struggled to regain her footing, the demon took a menacing step toward her, its bare foot and bony white ankle further adding to its eerie, otherworldly presence.
Magic Box
Amidst the shadows and mystic ambiance of the dark magic shop, Tara and Willow continued their incantation. Their voices, united in purpose, held a resonance that reached into the supernatural realm.
"With our potions thou took motive, with our motions came to pass," they chanted, their words laden with both responsibility and resolve. "We rescind no past devotions, give thee substance, give thee mass. Child of words, hear thy makers…"
Summers Home
The demon continued its menacing advance, tendrils of dusty white smoke curling off its still-misty form as it drew nearer to Buffy. In response, Buffy managed to retrieve a battle-ax from under the bed, gripping it with determination.
With a swift, powerful swing, Buffy swept the ax through the demon's cloudy body. As the blade cut through the ethereal form, the demon emitted a female, bubbling, disembodied laugh. Its presence, though formidable, was unmistakably eerie and surreal.
"You're the one who's barely here," the demon taunted, its voice echoing with otherworldly disdain. "Set on this earth like a bubble."
Undeterred, Buffy continued to strike at the demon, each blow making the mist appear denser and more substantial, akin to oily smoke. But the demon's taunts persisted, its words cutting through the tension of the room. "You won't even disturb the air when you go."
Just then, Anya, Dawn, and Xander burst into the room. The demon turned its half-formed head to regard the newcomers, its presence an ominous specter in the darkened space.
Buffy, displaying her leadership, didn't hesitate to give orders. "Go!" she directed her friends. "Take Dawn out of here!"
Dawn, determined to stand her ground, refused to leave her sister's side. When Anya and Xander attempted to move her down the hall, she resisted, her voice filled with urgency. "I'm not leaving Buffy. Find me a weapon." She looked at Xander and added, "Now! Buffy was teaching me to use a sword last night when we patrolled."
Xander, understanding the gravity of the situation, hesitated for only a moment before dashing down the hall and downstairs to retrieve a weapon from Buffy's arsenal.
Magic Box
Willow and Tara continued their incantation in the dimly lit room, their voices melding together as they sought to resolve the supernatural threat. The words flowed from them like a mystic current, filled with intention and power.
But suddenly, Tara broke off from the incantation, gasping for breath. She stared in awe and disbelief as a radiant nimbus of light began to surround Willow, casting a warm, ethereal glow.
Willow's eyes, which had been closed, snapped open, revealing solid black irises. Her voice, filled with a sense of revelation, cut through the darkness. "Solid."
Xander rushed back upstairs, a sword in hand, a palpable tension hanging in the air. As he hesitantly held the weapon, Dawn wasted no time and stepped forward, her determination shining in her eyes.
"Give it here," Dawn insisted. "Buffy said I was a quick learner. Let's see if I can put what I learned last night to use."
Xander gazed at Dawn for a long, contemplative moment, recognizing the bravery in her eyes, and slowly handed her the sword. The weight of the moment was heavy on them all.
Dawn burst into her sister's room, brandishing the sword, just as the demon fully solidified. It was a gruesome sight, resembling a drowned woman, deathly white with a cracked surface, ghastly teeth, and deep, black-shadowed, gory eyes. Tangled, white hair framed its horrifying visage.
"I am here!" the demon declared triumphantly.
With synchronized determination, Dawn and Buffy swung their weapons at the exact same time. For the first time, the demon took a solid blow. Buffy, displaying her fierce strength and determination, lunged after it and unleashed a flurry of powerful kicks.
The demon, however, managed to knock Buffy back, and she struggled to retain her grip on the ax. But it was Dawn who seized the moment. Raising her sword high, she smiled with a mix of resolve and vengeance.
"This is for trying to take my sister and unborn niece or nephew from me," Dawn declared as she swung the sword with unwavering determination, decapitating the demon.
The room was suddenly filled with a profound silence as the remnants of the vanquished creature dissipated into nothingness. The threat was finally extinguished, and the tension that had gripped the room slowly began to ease.
As the misty remnants of the vanquished demon dissipated into nothingness, a profound silence descended upon the room. The overwhelming tension that had gripped them began to dissipate, replaced by a sense of relief and triumph.
Dawn, her chest heaving with the exertion of the battle, lowered the sword, her face a mix of weariness and victory. She had defended her sister and the unborn child, proving herself to be a formidable force in her own right.
Buffy, having regained her footing, stared at the spot where the demon had once stood. Her eyes were filled with pride and gratitude for her sister's courage.
October 8, 2001 – Monday
Summers Home
Dawn, backpack slung over her shoulder and ready for school, made her way toward the sidewalk just as Buffy, holding a brown lunch bag, hurried out of the house after her.
"Dawn!" Buffy called after her sister.
Dawn turned back, a hint of alarm in her expression. "What's wrong?"
Buffy held up the lunch bag with a warm smile. "Lunch."
Dawn, genuinely surprised, looked at the bag. "You made me lunch?"
Buffy nodded, her affection for her sister evident. She handed the bag to Dawn, who accepted it with a grateful smile. "Wow. Thanks."
With a final piece of advice, Buffy encouraged her sister. "You better go. You've been out since I... got back. Go catch up. You know what they say, those who fail history are doomed to repeat it in summer school," she quipped, the playful teasing a testament to their sisterly bond.
Dawn returned the smile and then embraced Buffy, appreciating the gesture more than the lunch itself. "Thank you."
"You're welcome, Dawnie," Buffy replied. "Remember when you get home. Homework first. Then we work on your swordsmanship."
Dawn's response was filled with enthusiasm as she looked back at her sister. "Looking forward to it." With a parting smile, she continued on her way, heading toward school with a renewed sense of determination and a sisterly bond that was stronger than ever.
Buffy watched her sister's retreating figure down the street, a mix of pride and concern in her eyes. Once Dawn was out of sight, she turned and headed back inside, making her way to the phone.
With a sense of determination, she picked up the receiver and dialed Angel's number. After a few rings, someone answered.
"Angel Investigations. We help the helpless!" came Cordelia Chase's voice from the other end of the line.
"Hey, Cordy, it's Buffy," Buffy said.
Cordelia's voice held surprise as she responded, "Buffy? But..."
Buffy interrupted, needing to get to the point. "Willow brought me back a couple of days ago. I need to speak to Angel. I need to ask a favor."
A few moments passed before Angel's familiar voice came on the phone. "Buffy?" he said, still clearly surprised. "Cordelia said that Willow..."
Buffy didn't waste any time, getting straight to the point. "Yeah," she confirmed. "I was in a magical land called Narnia while I was dead here. Willow brought me back. Anyways, I know this is a bit of a long shot, but I was wondering if you could help me out with something."
Angel, sensing the gravity in her voice, responded with unwavering support. "Of course, Buffy. What do you need?"
Buffy hesitated for a moment, her words carrying the weight of her emotions. "I want to visit Faith in prison when I drive down to Los Angeles. I need to talk to her, to make amends, and to apologize for turning my back on her. I know you see her regularly, and I was wondering if you could help me get in to see her."
There was a pause on the other end of the line as Angel considered Buffy's heartfelt request. He understood the significance of what she was asking. Finally, he replied, "Buffy, I can't make any promises, but I'll talk to the prison authorities and see if I can arrange a visit for you. It might take some time, and there are no guarantees, but I'll do my best."
Buffy's voice trembled with gratitude as she responded, "Thank you, Angel. I appreciate it more than you know. This means a lot to me."
Angel's voice conveyed understanding and a genuine desire to assist. "I understand, Buffy. I'll do what I can. Just let me know when you'll be in town, and I'll keep you updated on the progress."
Buffy expressed her gratitude once more, her tone filled with sincerity. "Thanks again, Angel. I owe you one."
Angel's response was equally sincere and filled with a sense of camaraderie. "You don't owe me anything, Buffy. We're all trying to do the right thing here."