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12:16 p.m.

It was too simple to say that William’s throat was dry. His throat felt as though it had been slashed open and collecting dust for the better part of the day. Since that was the truth, he felt compelled to drink liters and liters of water.

He was miffed about the coat, and about being dead long enough to let Angel get his mitts on Buffy and his as-yet unmentioned unborn. Otherwise, he had recovered reasonably for being recently deceased. Enough so to be annoyed that the Scoobies were going so bloody slow about their rescue efforts. He paced like a caged cat while Andrew scryed repeatedly over his twenty-quid tourist map of London.

“I can’t find her,” Andrew whimpered. “Oh, God... does that mean?”

“She’s not,” William said. “I’d feel it.”

Giles looked anxious in his doubtfulness. He and Xander hovered, fretting silently over how little each could actually contribute. Giles was still groggy from his draining encounter with the Priestess, and Xander was, well, Xander. After William filled them in on Anya’s spectral presence in their kitchen, Xander had lapsed into an uneasy fit of not so helpful restlessness.

“Keep trying,” Dawn urged. “Try the northwest quadrant again. I think we noticed a tug there.”

Maya kept her eyes on the map. She gnawed on a tag of skin around her thumbnail while Andrew searched. She turned to Willow and Xander, exasperated.

“I have an idea,” she said. “Not only how to find her. But maybe to bring her back as well.”

“Well, speak up, Sweet Potato,” Lorne said. “Watching Mr. Potter here play Marauder's Map is driving me bats.”

“I’ll second that,” Giles said. “What’s your idea?”

The sudden added attention made Maya squirm. She backed up until she bumped the arm of the nearest sofa. She had hidden the Looking Glass in the cushioned corner of the couch, just in case they might need it.

Maya reached behind her. She pulled the Glass into her lap and unwound the dishrags to reveal its glimmering surface.

“Hey!” Willow said. “We can use it to find Buffy. That’s wonderful.”

“But it won’t help us if she’s,” Maya stopped herself. She cleared her throat. “It won’t be so easy as bringing William back, if she has... That is to say, William was dead, but not really dead and if Buffy is…”

William pounded his hands on the table, sending Andrew’s scrying crystal skittering. “I said, she’s not.”

Once again, they were all staring at her as if they expected her to explain something. Maya’s throat constricted. It suddenly seemed to her that there were fifty people in the room, all of them watching her with austere scrutiny. Her palms grew sweaty under the weight of the Glass. Her eyes flicked to Xander’s.
He was concerned, but nodded to her to continue.

She drew in a quick breath and said, “Freddie’s Grammy once told me that people used Looking Glasses like this one to travel from place to place. She said the spells for that kind of travel were lost, as was most of her people’s magic. But if we can find Buffy, we can form a pathway – a kind of spiritual conduit – to bring her to us,” Maya told them. “But it’s tricky, because I have no idea how to make it work. I don’t even know where to begin...”

“I do,” Willow said. She reached for the Glass. “Do you mind if I have a look?”

“Not at all,” Maya said. She happily relinquished it.

Willow balanced the globe evenly between her hands. Everyone in the room leaned in to watch over Willow’s shoulders.

“Show me Buffy,” Willow commanded.

Mist formed then swirled like a colorless anemone within the heart of the Glass.

“I don’t see anything,” Andrew said, quietly.

“Shh,” Dawn said.

Buffy appeared, a ghostlike shape huddled in a pool of nebulous light. Even from their point of view outside of the sphere, it was a cramped and dismal place. They watched her as she attempted to push her way through the metal grate.

“Oh God,” Dawn said. “Where is she?”

“Not the bloody Land of Oz,” William said, grimly. He rubbed his hands together nervously. “Tell me you have a plan, Red.”

Willow glanced from him to Giles, then back to Maya. A place behind her ear began to itch with infuriating persistence. She ignored it, keeping her eyes and hands trained on the globe in front of her. With all of them looking at her, she got a taste of how Maya had felt a few seconds before.

“I could try astral projection,” Willow said, talking through her thoughts. “That gets me there, but not back. And not with Buffy. But at least we would know she’s okay, and she would know we’re looking for her.”

“It’s safe to say she knows that,” Giles interrupted. “We would always come looking for her.”

“Yeah, but, what if she thinks we don’t know something’s wrong,” Xander said. “She left the hospital this morning with Angel. Maybe she didn’t know Angel had shish-ka’ed Spike. I mean, until you three found his body, we didn’t know for ourselves that Angel had boarded the crazy train.”

“He hasn’t done that,” Connor said.

“Is that right?” William said. “The dagger he jabbed between my ribs suggests otherwise.”

Connor looked miserably pale. “We don’t know that he’s... in control of himself. Maybe Wolfram & Hart figured out a way to make him not him anymore.”

“Maybe he lost his soul,” Andrew suggested.

Xander choked. All present, with the exception of Maya, avoided looking at everyone else. Maya turned her wide and curious eyes to William.

“What happens if he loses his soul?” she asked, innocence brimming.

“He didn’t,” William said, flatly.

After a moment’s palpable silence, Xander said, “It would explain...”

The muscles in William’s jaw flexed. The tension in him seemed to buzz like high voltage current. “No,” he said, indignant. “Buffy wouldn’t. I know her. You call her your friend? I should pound you for even suggesting...”

“No. No,” Giles said, bringing his hands up. “Nighna said that Angel needs his soul to fulfill the Shanshu. Whatever it is he’s doing and why, it is safe to assume that Angel still has it.”

“Nighna?” Andrew asked, all shrill.

“Guys,” Dawn snapped. “Look.”

“Oh,” Willow breathed.

They observed the Looking Glass Buffy slide out of a dark recess and land, fight-ready, several feet in front of Angel.

“What are they saying?” Dawn asked, sounding panicked.

“No volume,” Maya explained. “I learned to lip-read.”

“Look at him,” Dawn said. “Have you ever seen him look so mean and angry?”

“Yeparoo,” Lorne said.

“Once,” Giles said.

“So have I,” William added. “Willow, if you’ve got any tricks in your top hat, now might be a good time.”

“I’m thinking,” Willow said. A strangled, worried sound escaped her throat. “Okay. Maya, Dawn and Andrew – form a circle around me. I’m gonna link our minds.”

“Ooh,” Andrew said. “Very Vulcan.”

“Contain your geekness,” Dawn cautioned. She reached for his hand. Maya, on the opposite side, joined hands to link them around Willow.

Willow’s eyelids fluttered closed as she sent out little tendrils of telepathy to each of them.

'Can you feel me?' She asked. Each nodded that they could.

“Now what?” Andrew asked.

Dawn and Willow shushed him. He frowned.

Now came the tricksy part. Willow sensed that if this went wrong, they could all end up trapped in the flip side just like Freddie. Maya was the most powerful natural witch Willow had ever encountered, but she lacked training. Willow knew from experience how dangerous that could be.

“I’m making contact now with the Glass itself,” Willow said. “When I do, I’ll need you three–” she nodded once each to Dawn, Andrew and Maya, “–to keep the conduit open. William, get directly behind Angel. When the gateway opens – if the gateway opens – get him. And we’ll get our Buffy.”


Buffy was tired. Tired of hiding in shadows. Tired of running, of being three steps behind her enemy. Tired of seeing her family and friends haggard and hungry and scared. When she dropped from the cave in front of Angel, she meant to end it. She did not allow herself to think that it was Angel standing opposite of her. He was the enemy – just another vampire. And she was The Slayer.

“I have to admit, I’m surprised,” Angel said, without a trace of humor in his voice. “I expected you to pull one of your trademark Houdini escapes.”

“I am not giving you the chance to just keeping taking from us,” Buffy said. The more he talked, the easier it would be to find him in the near total darkness. She kept her back to the wall and remained alert.

She heard him take a mincing step toward her. “I don’t see you have much choice, Buffy,” he said. “You’re alone in the dark. You’re defenseless. If memory serves, you need a weapon of some sort to kill me. I’m the only one in this cave with one of those.”

“I can kill you dead enough with my hands,” she said, but her voice lacked conviction.

Angel said, “Doubt it. Even before Thellian’s supercharge, you could never kill one of us with your bare hands.”

“So you’re one of an ‘us’ now? What happened to the singular vampire with a soul? What would Connor think if you knew what you’re doing?”

“Don’t you know what’s happening?” Angel asked. He uttered a rusty laugh. “It’s over, Buffy. Thellian has already won.”

“So, what? You give up the good fight as soon as you think the tide has turned?” Buffy said. A sickened feeling curled into her abdomen. He wasn’t taunting or jeering at her in the way that delighted Angelus. “This isn’t you, Angel. The Angel I remember was not a coward. The Angel I knew took on all of the Black Thorn Circle not because he thought he could win, but because it was right. I look at you now, all I feel is disappointment and regret,” she said.

“That’s enough talk now, Buffy,” Angel said. He stepped forward again, moving from darkness into the sprinkling of light that shone down from the cave. He held the D’Ganti Blade out in front of him. Buffy instinctively touched the open gash on her temple where he had sliced her before. She waited for him to move four inches closer. Just a little closer and she would strike.

“No good forestalling,” Angel was saying. He inched forward, careful and slow. “No one’s called the cavalry because there is no cavalry to call. Besides, I can’t kill you here. I need your blood on the Circle.”

In the next second, several things happened at once.
Angel raised the blade in a high arc above Buffy’s head. She charged at his midsection, hoping to topple him. She never connected, though, because at that moment, a wild burst of light exploded around them. It drove Buffy backward against the stone wall so hard she bit her tongue. Angel wheeled, arms flailing to keep his balance. He collided with William, who seized Angel’s arms and gripped them tightly to restrain him.

“Surprise,” William said.

“Will!” Buffy said. She blinked, disbelieving. A pale green sphere of luminescence filled the sewer tunnel, encompassing the three of them. Willow stepped out of the air on Buffy’s right.

“We did it,” Willow shouted. “Buffy, are you okay?”

Buffy didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. She turned to Angel. Nearly managing a smirk, she said, “Guess I do have my back up.”

Angel attempted to wrest himself free from William. He held on to him, but just barely.

“Time to fly, little bird,” William said, forcing a strained smile.

Willow gripped Buffy’s hand. She dragged her along to the center of the sphere of light.

Buffy understood. It was doorway back. They had found her. They were safe.

“It’s a dream,” Buffy said. “It must be a dream.”

“It’s not,” Willow said. “Let’s go.” She pushed Buffy in front of her, into the place where the light seemed denser and more solid. Buffy heard voices beyond, familiar voices calling to her, beckoning her to join them.

But before she could leave the sewer tunnel, Buffy recalled the dagger and its gory purpose.

“The knife,” she called back over her shoulder. “William, get the knife.”

Angel heard her, of course. He dropped his shoulders and slipped neatly through William’s fingers. Knowing he was beaten, Angel darted back up the path in the direction he had come.

“Dad!” Connor yelled after him.

Angel skidded to a stop and turned. Connor read a fleeting glimmer of remorse in his father’s eyes. Angel lingered, hovering on the brink of indecision, before he turned to flee deeper into the cave.

The sphere of light was irising shut. Willow shoved Buffy through a kind of membranous wall. Buffy stumbled into the center of their Circle. Dawn and Andrew stood on either side of her, with Connor and Lorne flanking them. Willow, Maya, Giles and Xander were directly behind her. She could hear them all holding their collective breath, waiting for her to speak.

And William, quite impossibly, was right in front of her.
Buffy covered her face with her hands. Dawn and William moved forward at almost the same time. They each got their shoulders under Buffy’s arms and helped steer her toward the sofa. The rest streamed along, waiting tensely but saying nothing. Dawn eased her sister into the mammoth over-stuffed sofa. As she settled her weary body in the pliant cushions, William knelt with her. He bent his cool forehead to meet hers.
Buffy pressed her lips to William’s ear.

“He knows,” she whispered. William’s head snapped up in alarm. Buffy brought her lips to touch his. “We have to tell them.”





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