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“They should have been back by now,” Spike growled for the umpteenth time, pacing back and forth like a caged animal.

The others looked up at him.

“Spike, man, chill,” Xander chimed in. ”I’m sure Buff and the bad ass brigade can handle anything that gets thrown at them,” the man reassured, though he was getting antsy himself.

“Yeah,” Anya commented, “I mean, who cares if they’ve entered a labyrinth of death ruled by vampires who control the living dead and easily outnumber them?” She shrugged. “It’s not like they’re dying hideous painful deaths as we speak.”

Everyone turned to glare at her and Spike snarled before continuing pacing.

“What?” Anya demanded.

“Honey? Don’t help,” Xander instructed.

Anya frowned and folded her arms.

“Someone’s coming!” a sentry cried out.

The others rushed to their feet and ran towards the entrance, peering out into the dark. Four shapes could be seen hobbling and lurching towards them. Faith grabbed a flashlight and pointed.

Angel and Willow were supporting Buffy, Alec was walking in front of them; he shielded his eyes from the bright beam.

“A little help?” he called out.

The group rushed forward. Giles and Faith took the wounded Buffy from Angel and Willow. Angel gasped and sank against the wall in fatigue before Xander wrapped an arm around him, holding him up,

“Okay, Deadboy, you’ve had enough excitement for one night,” he commented dryly as the group re-entered the hideout.

Buffy groaned as she was placed in a seat, Giles gave her wounds a cursory glace.

“I need bandages, poultice, and a bowl of clean hot water,” the Watcher demanded.

DeGanon nodded.

“I will bring herbs to disinfect the wound,” he assured the concerned Watcher turning to another gypsy and barking out orders.

Giles returned his attentions to his ward.

“Buffy, are you all right?” he asked anxiously.

The Slayer smiled weakly and, with a grunt, slammed the Everstone down onto the table. Giles took off his glasses and peered at the gem.

“You got it,” he breathed.

Buffy nodded and replied, “Damn skippy.”

The gypsies returned with the medicine and bandages, and gently carried the Slayer to a makeshift infirmary. Spike followed close behind.

“Good job, baby,” he whispered, kissing her head. She smiled at him and held his hand tightly as they were led away.

Alec smiled and sighed, exhausted.

“He needs blood and bed rest.” he said, gesturing to Angel.

Faith walked over, concerned.

“You okay?” she asked.

Angel sighed and nodded as Faith helped him over to an overstuffed chair and gently set him down.

Xander walked over to Alec.

“What happened man?” he asked.

Alec sighed, and began counting off on his fingers.

“Buffy almost had her soul stolen by a vampire necromancer. Angel began to rot. Willow died and was raised from the grave, and I was buried alive,” he replied matter-of-factly.

Xander blanched and rushed over to Willow.

“Will, you died?!” he asked askance.

His childhood friend shrugged.

“It was only for a little while,” she assured, “then Buffy raised me from the dead.”

Xander shot a stunned look at the Slayer.

“I had a little help,” she admitted.

“Willing or otherwise,” Alec commented quietly.

Xander said nothing as he turned to Willow and frowned. He touched her hair.

“What’s this Will?” he asked, taking a lock of the Wiccan’s hair in his hand.

Alec frowned and walked over to inspect his lover. His eyes widened.

“Whoa,” he whispered.

Willow was looking back and forth between Xander and Alec.

“What? What is it?” she asked.

Xander handed her a mirror from the table, she brought it up to her face and gasped. A lock of hair, from its roots all the way to her bangs, was not its normal vibrant red - it was a snowy white.

“Huh,” Willow muttered, looking at the bright white lock of hair growing on her head, then she shrugged. “Well, I guess it could be worse.”

Xander and Alec looked back at each other and sighed.

“Okay, well-”

Alec was caught off guard as a small female form plowed into him, knocking him into a chair while hugging him tightly.

“Alec!” Dawn cried, embracing him with crushing strength. Her face was wet with tears of relief.

Alec smiled and stroked her hair.

“Miss me petite?” he asked wryly.

Dawn just looked up and nodded her head before going back to hugging him. He smiled and looked up at Xander,

“Xander, stay with Willow and make sure she gets some rest. I want to make sure there are no other surprises from the spell,” he instructed. Willow opened her mouth to protest, but Alec cut her off with a finger. “No buts. Scram!”

Willow smiled and then headed towards the door with Xander, who started to chat with his friend.

“Come on, I can tell you some paramitsha.”

“Huh?” Willow frowned up at Xander.

Xander smiled.

“DeGanon’s been teaching me some gypsy-speak, paramitsha means ‘ghost stories.” After shrugging he continued. “He figured we should learn some, now that we’re all part of the kumpania.”

“Huh?” Willow repeated.

“Tribe,” Xander explained.

“Oh,” she said wearily. “Xander, if you want ghost stories, then I have got a couple for you.”

The pair of friends walked away. Anya began to follow.

“Anyanka.”

The voice was soft, sibilant, and she knew it all too well. With a resigned sigh, she slowly turned around.

D’Hoffryn stood before here, looking imperious and regal as always, and he seemed irritated.

“What is happening, Anyanka? He is still alive.”

Anya looked around. She already knew what she’d see - everything around her was washed out and in muted shades of gray, her friends only flowing indistinguishable shades of the same color.

Anya and D’Hoffryn had side-stepped - been taken out of the flow of time by just a split second, out of the current dimension just enough to remain unobserved by everyone else around them. It was neither cheap nor easy to do, and it was reserved for the very motivated or the very powerful.

D’Hoffryn was both and that boded ill for Anya.

“I contacted the Lazarene vampires before the four of them set out,” Anya explained.

D’Hoffryn waved away a clawed hand. “Yes, yes, the trap was lain in wait for them when they arrived. It very nearly succeeded.”

“Well, then what do you want from me?”

D’Hoffryn smiled a spider’s smile and removed an object from the bilious sleeves of his robe.

“Something a bit more direct,” he explained.

Anya looked down at what the demon lord brandished and gasped audibly.

“That’s-“

“The Dagger of Acathla, yes.” He smiled thinly. “The companion piece to the sword the knight used to pierce the demon’s heart and seal the gate to Hell.” D’Hoffryn gestured with it to one of the spectral shapes surrounding them. “I understand the Slayer and the vampire already have quite a history with Acathla.”

Anya very hesitantly took the dagger from D’Hoffryn, regarding it like a venomous snake.

“What do you want me to do with it?” she asked.

“I thought it would look lovely on your coffee table when you and your young man get a place of your own,” D’Hoffryn replied deadpan.

“What do you think I want you to do with it? Take it, and use it on the Keeper Demon. A single drop of blood, shed with this weapon, will send the victim straight to Hell. No judge, no jury, ‘do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars’,” he quipped.

“But Alec hasn’t actually, well, done anything yet to warrant damnation,” she protested.

That was as far as she got in her argument. With a choked gurgle, Anya was hauled up off her feet as D’Hoffryn grabbed her by the throat and hoisted her into the air.

“Understand this, Anyanka - someone is going to be Acathla’s guest in Hell for the next ten thousand years. Now, it’ll be either that young man or your young man. Do you comprehend?”

Anya gasped and kicked, but nodded, and D’Hoffryn dumped her to the ground with a thud.

The demon king reached over and plucked the knife from her hands. “I’ll put this in a safe place for you to find later. Fail me again, Anya, and I promise you that the only bridal gift you’ll receive is a front-row seat to your own widowhood!”

With that, D’Hoffryn vanished and time snapped back into place.

“Hey, hon, you all right?” Xander asked with a hand on her shoulder.

Anya blinked back tears and then looked up, startled, before smiling.

“Yes, I’m fine, I was just thinking about sex and money,” she said matter of factly.

Xander laughed and Willow rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, that sounds like on par for my Ahn. C’mon, babe, help me get Willow to bed and we can talk more about these thoughts you’re having.”

“Oh joy,” Willow muttered as the three of them left the room.



Meanwhile, amongst the others, Angel got to his feet, only to fall backwards and land heavily against the wall.

“Angel!”

Buffy and Faith said in unison, then stopped and looked at each other. For a moment, tension hung heavy in the air. The two Slayers looked at each other carefully for a moment while Spike observed them both.

Then Buffy smiled slightly.

“Faith, do me a favor, help Angel to his bed and find him some blood. DeGanon might have leftovers from the feast or know where to get some.”

The younger Slayer smiled and nodded. “I got it wired, Buffy,” she replied solemnly.

Carefully, she bent down and supported Angel, helping him hobble away.



A few minutes later, they pushed open the door to Angel’s room. Faith was acutely aware of the cool press of Angel’s body against her own. Whenever they had fought it was something that always commanded attention, to the point of distraction. The most noticeable thing, though, had been the sense of strength, like a jungle cat poised to strike, which always seemed present in his body.

Except now; it seemed as if there was no strength at all left in his body. He felt like a rag doll in her arms and it frightened Faith a great deal.

Gently, as if he were a broken baby bird, she laid him down onto the bed on his back. Taking his face in her hands she leaned over him.

“Angel, can you hear me?” she whispered.

Angel swallowed thickly and coughed with a sudden spasm. Faith nearly leapt out her flesh. Vampires don’t breathe and they certainly shouldn’t cough.

What the hell happened down there? she thought to herself as she worked to get his shirt off. She finished unbuttoning the shirt, peeled it back, and stifled a cry of dismay.

Angel’s chest was a patchy gray, like the flesh of a corpse. It had a slick sheen of sweat on it that smelled like slow death; like malaria and nightmares. In the center of the wound was a handprint burnt into his chest.

“Angel…” she whispered.

Faith Lehane had never really cared for anyone; she never had a need to. No one had ever cared for her.

Except for Angel. It was Angel who had redeemed her, Angel who had saved her from herself, Angel who had protected her from Buffy, and Angel who had championed her no matter what the cost to himself.

And now it was Angel who looked like he was going to die.

“Screw that,” Faith muttered.

Gently, she took Angel’s head in her hands and lifted it up.

“Angel, I don’t know if you can hear me or not, but I’m right here. I’m going to take care of you, no matter what. Okay?”

Angel didn’t say anything, he just swallowed and coughed again. Quickly, Faith pulled off the rest of his clothing and wrapped him up in the blankets. Parts of him felt cold, while other parts were feverishly hot, and, honestly, she didn’t know which to be more worried about.

“I’ll be right back, Angel. I’m just going to go find you some food.”

She squeezed his hand… and then felt a small thrill as his fingers slowly curled around her own and squeezed back ever so gently. Moments later, she returned with a mug of blood,

“Here you go,” she whispered.

Holding the mug, she gradually fed it to him, stroking his hair back. Angel swallowed gratefully and drained the mug.

She went back and forth like that over and over again, until the man that managed the kitchen told her that that was all the pigs’ blood they had. Blood was usually stockpiled as bait against the Khulghaani and they had a goodly amount of it, but still Angel had taken it all and had not yet truly recovered.

Faith didn’t know what to do, but knew she had to do something. She searched around the room before she found what she was looking for - an old beer bottle; probably tossed in there by Spike. With careful aim, she smashed the bottle on the corner of the room’s small end table. Hours of practice in prison paid off as the bottle broke exactly as she needed it to, giving her a serviceable shiv with a solid cutting edge.

Tugging down one strap of her tank top, she drew the shiv slowly and deeply across her shoulder. Blood, thick and red, welled up and out of the wound as she tried not to gasp in pain. Angling her arm, the brunette Slayer let the blood run down it until it pooled in her palm where she then dumped it into the mug. She repeated this process until that wound ceased to bleed, as well as the four others that followed.

Payback for poisoning you that time, she thought wryly to herself.

Drained, she took Angel into her arms and, cradling him like a child, slowly and with great care fed her blood to him. When it was over, the cup fell from her numb fingers; she had lost all feeling in that arm and was feeling pretty light-headed to boot. For a long time, she watched him. There was nothing else to do now.

No. No, that wasn’t true. There was one, last thing she could do.

Slowly, she got to one knee and reached under her collar and removed a small plain rosary: her most private and personal possession, and, clasping it in both hands, she began to pray.

“Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee; blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners,” she prayed quietly, counting off beads as she did this.

“I’ve never heard you pray before,” a voice rasped from off to her to side.

“Angel!” Faith cried out and dashed to his side clasping his hands in hers. However his next words froze in her throat.

“Buffy.” the vampire whispered, smiling weakly at her.

The scarred Slayer’s heart dropped, even as the pieces came together in her mind - her blood, Slayer’s blood, had indeed sped up the healing process, but he was by no means healed. Buffy had told him that it had been her blood that Angel had been coerced into consuming in order to cure him of the poison Faith had shot into him; those memories were now clouding his senses, causing him to mistake one Slayer for another.

Faith blinked back tears but smiled at Angel. “Yeah, yeah, it’s me - Buffy,” she assured him, trying hard to adopt the other Slayer’s mannerisms and tone of voice. “You miss me?”

Angel nodded. “Yeah. What happened?”

“You got hurt. But you’re going to be okay.”

For a second, Angel tensed.

“What about you, are you all right?” he asked worriedly.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay,” she soothed him.

He calmed after that and settled back against the blankets.

“I love you,” he said simply.

Faith closed her eyes, squeezing them hard.

“I love you,” she whispered intently.

“You do?” he sounded very surprised for a moment.

“I think so, yeah.”

Angel licked his lips. “There’s something in my coat pocket. Inside pocket.”

Faith nodded and went over to where his jacket lay, tossed in a heap on the ground, and fished around the inside pocket. Her fingers closed around something small and metallic. After pulling it out she gasped.

It was a small ring, made of silver and designed in the shape of two hands holding a heart with a crown.

“I found it… after Acathla,” he rasped, “and I’ve always been meaning to give it back to you.”

Faith knew what this was instantly - the Claddagh ring Angel had given Buffy just before he had reverted to Angelus and then sent to Hell. Buffy had talked about it a little before things between them had gone bad. Growing up Irish-Catholic in South Boston, Faith had seen rings like this before and privately always yearned to have someone do something like that for her.

And now, suddenly, here it was. Except it wasn’t really meant for her.

“Angel, I can’t-“

“Please, please, just… just take it. I don’t… want anything from you that you don’t want to give me. It’s enough to just know how you feel,” he said fervently.

Reluctantly, Faith held the ring up under the light, studying how it shined. Or maybe it just seemed to shine, she couldn’t be sure. Her heart was ready to burst and she didn’t know what to do.

“Buffy will kill me if she catches me with this,” she said quietly to herself.

“Buffy? Did you say something?” Angel asked quietly.

“Just commenting on how some things are worth dying for,” she commented quietly.

Then, very deliberately, she untied her rosary and added the ring to the string of beads, allowing it to rest against the crucifix at the end. Quickly, she tied the string back together and placed the whole thing back under her shirt, next to her heart.

“Do you remember how it’s meant to be worn, Buffy?” Angel asked.

I can’t do this, I can’t, this is just too much, Faith thought to herself even as she smiled as memories from growing up in Boston provided the answer.

Fingering the ring, she replied. “Of course. With the heart pointed in, it means you belong to someone.”



Faith jerked her head up suddenly as she heard a noise, then realized that she had fallen asleep in the chair next to Angel’s bed. The noise she heard was Angel, up on his feet and getting dressed. He turned to look at her.

“Hey, you’re up,” he said quietly as he shrugged on his shirt. “How are you feeling?”

Faith shrugged and rubbed her eyes, looking a little embarrassed.

“Apparently, I was feeling tired. Didn’t even realize I’d nodded off.”

Angel nodded and finished dressing, then walked over to where she was stretching in her chair, working the kinks out of her back.

“Thanks for taking care of me, I won’t forget it.”

“Five by five, no worries.”

Faith’s expression then turned tentative. “Exactly how much do you remember?”

Angel shrugged. “Not a lot. We made it back from the Deadlands after fighting the Lazaraens and you stayed up all night feeding me pigs’ blood.”

“And that’s it?”

“That’s it. Why, what’s wrong?”

Faith hesitated a moment then shook her head.

“Nothing. You were babbling in your sleep a little, that’s all. Sounded like you were dreaming or something.”

Angel snorted softly at that. “Was it a good dream?”

His back was turned to her so he could not see the expression on her face.

“Yeah, it was,” she sighed. “So, what are you going to do now?”

Angel pulled on his jacket and turned back to face her.

“I need to go take care of something.”

“What?”

“I need to talk to Buffy. About some things that are long overdue.”

“Oh.”

“A friend of mine gave me some good advice the other night - ‘love without fear’,” Angel quoted. “And after what happened down there, I realized that, even for a vampire; life is short.” He turned away from Faith to finish adjusting his clothing. “I don’t want to spend all my time in regret, wondering ‘what if’.”

“You don’t say,” Faith commented acidly, gritting her teeth.

Angel frowned at her tone and turned back once again to face her.

“You all right?” he asked.

Faith nodded. “Yeah, no biggie. My shoulder hurts, that’s all.”

Angel gently pushed aside one of her tank top straps and saw the long cuts she had inflicted on herself to feed him.

“What happened?” he asked intently.

Faith shrugged. “One of the fanged ‘Uncle Fester’ types from the other night got a piece of me; like I said, no big,” she lied.

She gave thanks secretly to the Slayers’ accelerated healing process. Because of it, the wounds looked like they could have been done during the Khulghaani attack and not just a few hours ago.

Still Angel looked dubious, but he nodded distractedly as thoughts of other things - and other people - took up most of his mind.

He stuck his hands in his pockets and then frowned. He began a hurried search of all his jacket pockets and then began looking around the room.

“Lose something?” Faith asked mildly.

“Yeah, have you seen a small silver ring?” he asked distractedly.

Faith felt the cool metal of it resting against her breast even as she frowned.

“No? Why, is it something for Buffy?”

Angel nodded. “Yeah, it’s… a long story, must have lost it in the Deadlands. Damn it!” he cursed and then sighed. “Forget it, it doesn’t matter.”

He gave the brown haired Slayer one of his rare, heart-melting smiles; the ones that barely tugged at his lips and yet managed to yank at Faith’s heartstrings whenever she saw it.

“Thanks again, Faith, I won’t forget this,” he promised her and headed out, leaving her alone.

“Oh,” she said to the empty room, “you’d be surprised.”



“You okay, princess?” Alec asked Dawn softly.

They were crashed out together on the couch and Dawn had not let him go since he had returned.

Dawn sniffled and released him, nodding.

“Yeah,” she replied, smiling and wiping her eyes, “I was just scared.”

Alec nodded. “Join the club,” he replied dryly.

He yawned loudly and Dawn looked up.

“Whoops, I’ll bet your really beat, huh?” she asked mildly.

Alec nodded. “Being buried alive can do that to you,” he replied.

Dawn’s eyes got as big around as saucers.

“You were buried ALIVE?” she asked, aghast.

Alec chuckled. “Trust me, I got off easy.”

He got to his feet and Dawn helped him up, her hands on his chest.

“Okay, well, let me help you,” she replied.

Alec chuckled. “Thanks. Guess it’s your turn to tuck me in, huh?” he commented wryly.

Dawn smiled, and then threw her arms around him, kissing his cheek with blazing intensity.

“I was really, really scared,” she repeated, whispering hoarsely.

Alec smiled and stroked her hair.

“Me, too, petite.” He kissed her hair. “Me, too.”

He yawned again as Dawn released him.

“Okay.” The girl’s voice got stern. “To bed with you!” she demanded, leading him away.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he replied, grinning.

Dawn led him to the straw mattress and pushed him down onto the bed. Tugging at his boots, she pulled them off, then frowned and turned them over, emptying a huge pile of sand onto the floor. She looked up at Alec, amazed.

“So that’s what that was,” he murmured as he stripped off his coat, tossing it on the floor.

Dawn sighed and took off the other boot, emptying a second miniature sand dune onto the concrete floor. She carefully put the boots in the corner and got up, collecting Alec’s duster from the floor and brushing it off with great care before hanging it up on a peg on the wall. She came back to the young man, who was still sitting upright, resting his head against the stone wall.

“Arms up!” she demanded.

Alec obliged, raising his arms obediently over his head. Dawn grabbed the bottom of his dirt-stained t-shirt and tugged it up over his head. She vainly attempted to brush off the many layers of dirt and grime from the shirt, before folding it up and placing it next to the boots. She turned back to Alec, who was, she now noticed, nude from the waist up. She started to stammer as her heart began pounding triple time.

“Um… lay down.” She tried to sound stern and confident.

Alec smirked and obliged as Dawn covered him up with the blanket. He flashed her a grateful look.

“Thanks for all your help, petite,” he quipped. “Those boots were awfully far away.”

Dawn smiled and leaned over to kiss his forehead.

“Not a problem Alec.” Her voice suddenly became stern once more. “Now, you get some rest. Don’t make me beat you up!” She leveled a warning finger at him.

Alec chuckled and shook his head.

“God forbid I enrage a Summers sister,” he replied wryly.

Closing his eyes, he quickly fell asleep. Dawn watched for a while as his chest rose and fell evenly with each breath. Gently, she leaned down and placed an ear to his chest, listening to his heartbeat. She closed her eyes and sighed contently, drifting off to sleep.



“Oh, this is not going to end well,” Buffy said quietly as she watched Dawn and Alec together from around the corner of the hallway.

The both of them were unconscious and, while she and Dawn had made peace amongst themselves and with Willow regarding their feelings towards Alec, Buffy had to strain not to grit her teeth at the sight now before her.

“Little idiot doesn’t know what she’s doing,” she growled.

“Taken up peeping, love? Next time let me know, I know a few local bits of crumpet that forget to draw their blinds when they change.”

Buffy whirled to see Spike casually leaning against the wall, smoking a cigarette.

“Hey, hon,” she said melting into a semi-defensive smile. “It’s not what you think.”

Spike chuckled wryly. “If you’re going to jump out of your skin, love, you might want to wait until your knee gets better.”

Buffy laughed. “Yeah, well, you know how it is…”

Her words trailed off as she peeked around the corner, again, to peer at Alec and Dawn.

Spike caught the look and frowned.

“What are you looking at?” he asked.

Buffy snorted as she lolled her head back around to look over at Spike, rolling her eyes.

“My kid sister being an idiot,” she replied scornfully.

“The kid’s in love, Buffy; this isn’t a crush. This is passionate, all-consuming obsession; this is blood screaming at her to work its will.” He smiled slightly. “Kind of like a vampire dating the Slayer. Logic says it shouldn’t have a chance, but well…” He grinned. “I’ve always said ‘sod all’ as far as logic goes.”

Buffy shook her head. “She’s just a kid!” she exclaimed.

Spike shook his head. “Not anymore, princess, she’s come face-to-face with death a couple of times and come out alive.”

“Yeah, because of me,” Buffy snorted.

Spike arched an eyebrow.

“Really? Then why was I playing parasite flambé on Giles junior’s back instead of yours? Couldn’t be that ninja-man couldn’t get out of the way fast enough, which leaves us with one alternative - he put himself in the way to protect Dawn. After all, he certainly didn’t need to protect you, did he?” He looked up at Buffy. “That sounds like Alec saving the kid’s life, not you.”

Buffy’s eyes narrowed. “Are you implying…?”

Spike held up a hand.

“Implying, no. Flat out telling you, that, what started off as your mission to protect Dawn, the Key, has become Alec’s. And, no offense, love, but the boy seems to take it a tad more seriously than you do.”

Buffy glared at him. “Can I help it if I’m just a little too busy…?”

She stopped, her eyes widening as understanding hit her like a thunderclap.

“Too busy saving the world to worry about little things like your kid sister’s survival?” Spike finished. “Because, deep down, you’ve always been resentful of these monk blokes saddling you with a responsibility you never wanted?”

Buffy just shook her head in denial.

“No, it’s not that, she just can’t…” She struggled for words.

“…Be considered your problem because, inside, you really don’t consider her to be your sister?” Spike asked.

Buffy looked up at him, stunned. “That’s not true,” she whispered.

Spike snorted derisively.

“Yeah? Correct me if I’m wrong here, but who’s wracked up more scar tissue in the protection of your sister: you or him? Can you remember that being an issue before you got clued in to the fact that your sister contained artificial ingredients?” he asked point blank.

Buffy just stood there, locked in shock.

Spike continued. “Bottom line, love - you don’t consider Dawn to be a person, you consider her a thing, a creature, and you consider her an unwanted burden.” He smiled slightly. “Something that, in the old days, you probably would have cured with a sewing needle,” he commented.

Buffy’s face had gone from white to ashen gray.

“Alec doesn’t.” The vampire jerked his head, gesturing to the sleeping man. “Whatever soft spot the guy might have for the kid, it really isn’t important. The point is, he’s taken your duty, and made it his, and he’s done it without complaint or question and has gotten his ass kicked twice to fulfill it.”

He turned back to Buffy.

“So let Dawn have her ‘hearts and harps’ for the guy. Because her only other choice of person to love is a sister that really never wanted her around in the first place.”

He finished the cigarette and tossed it to the ground, stamping it out he turned to go.

“Here endeth the lesson,” he called back at her.

“You’re wrong,” Buffy whispered hoarsely.

Spike turned his head slightly to regard the slayer.

“Yeah? Prove it,” he replied before stepping out of the room.

Buffy just stood there, hearing Spike’s damning words ringing over and over in her head, echoing, driving her mad, as she walked hurriedly away, trying to find some solitude.

Because he was right.

“Isn’t it enough?” Buffy cried out to the air. “I’ve pulled my share! I sent Angel to Hell, I’ve forgiven Faith, I’ve died! Now I’ve got to protect a person that isn’t even really my sister!”

She snarled, slamming her fist into the stone wall, ignoring the pain that it caused.

“I’m the Slayer! I’m responsible for the whole friggin’ world! Why can’t that be enough?” she shrieked and sank against the stone wall.

“Because it’s our duty,” a voice like silver bells called out.

Buffy jerked her head up and peered around in confusion.

“Huh?” she hastily wiped at her eyes and scanned the room.

It was empty.

“Over here,” the voice called out again.

Buffy turned and faced a large puddle on the floor; she peered into the water and gasped when she saw the face on the other side.

“Marlena!” Buffy cried, gaping at the silver-haired Slayer’s image in the pool. “How…?”

Marlena’s image held up a hand.

“It’s a trick I know. I came to congratulate you. Sasha told me you found the Everstone.” She shook her head wryly. “And also that you and DeGanon are working together now.” she chuckled. “Strange bedfellows.” She grew serious. “But I also just witnessed the altercation between you and your paramour, and, I must say, I’m concerned.”

Buffy sighed and hung her head as Marlena continued.

“The Slayer’s duty is to the world, yes, but a Slayer can’t be so wrapped in matters of great worldly importance that it interferes with her concern for individual people,” she smiled slightly, “or individual siblings,” she finished wryly.

Buffy began to speak. “But Dawn’s not even…”

Marlena held up a hand.

“She is, or she would have been, if you had not been chosen as the Slayer,” Marlena quietly informed the woman.

Buffy’s eyes widened. “What?” she asked breathlessly.

Marlena nodded.

“If you had not been the Slayer, then, when you were six or so, Dawn would have been born perfectly naturally.” She gestured to the Slayer. “You would have been a big sister, one way or the other. This way was just a tad more drastic.”

“But the monks said that all the memories mom and I had of Dawn were made up,” Buffy exclaimed.

Marlena sighed.

“I think this should be something we discuss in person. Stand back, please.”

Buffy frowned and did so. The puddle of water began to bubble and froth and, with an explosion of water, Marlena calmly stepped out of the puddle, shaking her dress dry.

“That’s better. Now,” she turned to face a stunned Buffy, “do you remember when your witchy friend’s double showed up a few years back?”

Buffy nodded, still pretty blown away by the other woman’s entrance.

“Yeah, sure. Hey, how did you know about that?” Buffy asked.

The older woman smiled. “Oh, I’ve been keeping tabs on you for quite some time.”

Buffy frowned. “But, back at the Estate you acted like you’d never met me,” she protested.

“Did I?” Marlena smiled and waved a hand dismissively. “Be that as it may, you remember how the other Willow came from a different world?”

Buffy nodded. “She said it was a world where the Master had risen,” she replied.

Marlena nodded.

“Heinrich, yes. Because you never came to Sunnydale, he was freed and things turned ugly in a really bad sort of way.” She held up a finger. “That was ONE reality, and a particularly grim one at that.” She held up a second finger. “Another reality is one where you were never chosen as the Slayer at all. You stayed in Los Angeles, were generally well-behaved, your parents never divorced and when you were six…”

“…they wound up with Dawn,” Buffy finished stunned.

Marlena nodded.

“That’s another reality; all the monks did was take all the memories you and your mother had of Dawn and whoosh!” she made a sweeping gesture with her hand, “brought them to this reality.”

“So, those memories I have of Dawn, they’re real?” Buffy asked.

“Very much so, just in another reality.”

Buffy sagged against the wall, feeling more than a little sandbagged by the revelation.

“So, you see? Dawn really is your sister,” she placed a hand on Buffy’s shoulder, “and I can tell you right now, that in that reality, you and her are very, very close.”

Buffy snorted lightly. “This is like a bad episode of ‘The Twilight Zone’,” she commented.

Marlena grinned. “I was always an ‘Outer Limits’ girl myself,” she commented wryly. “Anyhow, you’ve got the Everstone, that’s great. What’s more, you’ve bonded with Kendra’s soul temporarily.”

Buffy frowned. “Huh?”

Marlena elaborated.

“During the fight with Mercurio, her soul jumped out of his body into yours briefly, which is what let you summon the stake to your hand and what allowed you to cast that spell. Kendra wasn’t kidding when she said she spent all of her free time studying. The Jamaican people have always had a real knack for things like voodoo and Loa magic.”

“Loa?”

“Spirit magic. The conjuring up of spirits of ancestors through dance and prayer,” she explained.

“I always thought that was a stereotype,” Buffy interjected.

Marlena looked abashed.

“Well, I’m not saying all Jamaicans spend their free time sacrificing chickens or any of that stereotypical nonsense, just that the people come from a culture very rich in the supernatural, and Kendra, being the Slayer and all, was more in tune with that power than most.”

“So, when Kendra jumped into me…” Buffy began.

Marlena threw her head back and laughed.

“What did you think the Awakening was? Turning into a giant snake?” She calmed down and grinned. “When the Slayer awakens, she acquires all the knowledge and lore from all Slayers past. Along with one or two helpful tricks.”

“Like magic?” Buffy asked.

“Magic, other languages, new abilities. It’s like Christmas, except every gift has something you want in it.” She chuckled and placed a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve tasted it twice now, once against Adam, and now against Mercurio. Both times, your life was in mortal peril, and both times it granted you access to powers that you’d normally have not a clue how to access, much less use effectively.” She smiled slightly. “Granted, a stake flying into your hand isn’t quite as dramatic as suddenly becoming Trinity on speed against that cybernetic spawn of Frankenstein, but pretty handy, huh?”

Buffy nodded and grinned. “You saw ‘The Matrix’, huh?”

Marlena grinned.

“What, you think I only use scrying to deliver cryptic warnings? Please! A girl’s got to have a hobby, and, besides, I save a fortune in ticket fees.” Marlena chuckled and even Buffy laughed at that. Then Marlena grew serious again.

“The point is, Dawn’s your sister, honestly and truly. Dawn is Dawn first, the Key second. Just like you’re Buffy first and the Slayer second. That’ll change once you awaken, though,” Marlena commented.

Buffy frowned.

“You mean I won’t be me anymore?” she asked sounding frightened.

Marlena grinned.

“Not at all, child. You’ll always be you, you’ll just happen to be more than just you,” she replied cryptically.

She winked and stepped back into the puddle.

“Now, go make nice with your man and stop treating Dawn like some kind of precious artifact that just needs to be protected against the evils of the world. She’s a young woman with thoughts and feelings and a powerfully strong heart,” Marlena gave Buffy a wry look, “not unlike her sister.”

Giving the Slayer a jaunty wave, she took a deep breath and, folding over at the waist, dove headfirst into the one-inch deep puddle. Buffy gasped in surprise and limped over to the puddle, feeling around.

There was nothing there.

Buffy removed her hand and shook her head in awe.

“Gotta get her to teach me THAT one,” Buffy muttered before hobbling away.



“Muh…?”

Dawn said groggily, lifting her head up from Alec’s chest. She looked up blearily at her sister, who was standing over her with a smile.

“C’mon, kiddo. We need to go have some girl talk,” Buffy said simply.

“Kay…” Dawn said, a little warily. She started to pull away from Alec and then hesitated, looking back at him worriedly.

Buffy caught the look and smirked.

“Don’t worry so much kiddo, he’s safe as he’s ever gonna be.”

“Oh, yeah that’s great to hear.”

Buffy led Dawn away from her sleeping brother and into the kitchen.

Dawn smiled faintly, remembering the last time she was here: sharing a bowl of cereal with Alec and Willow.

There were two cups and a thermos of coffee on the table. Buffy took the thermos and filled the cups, handing one to Dawn.

Dawn took it with a frown.

“Okay, this is new. Last time I attempted to delve into the land of caffeinated beverages, you said I wasn’t old enough.”

“Okay, one, you were trying to mooch my mocha latte,” Buffy replied defensively, “and two…” she sighed and shrugged, “…well, maybe you’re older than I’ve been giving you credit for.”

Dawn’s look of puzzlement deepened as she sipped the coffee. “Okay, now I’m afraid,” she said sardonically.

“I just wanted to let you know that I love you, and that I’m proud of you. You know, for being so cool and all,” Buffy said, trying hard to make it sound sincere.

Dawn looked at her thoughtfully.

“Boy, I never thought it would happen to me: I have finally met the world’s worst liar.”

Buffy threw her hands up in exasperation.

“Okay, you want to know how I really feel? You’re a pain in the ass! You never do what you’re told, you’re always getting into trouble, and you embarrass me constantly in front of my friends!” Buffy exhaled hard, getting her temper under control; this was not how this conversation needed to be going.

Dawn looked really upset.

“BUT, despite all that, you’re my sister. You. Are. My. Sister,” Buffy said slowly, enunciating each word. She made herself really, truly believe and accept it, maybe for the first time in her life.

“Yeah, so I keep getting told,” Dawn said, looking very perplexed and irritated. “What’s your point?”

“The point is that I haven’t been a very good big sister lately. I’ve been so wrapped up in myself that I failed to notice that you may be having a rough time.” She looked back at Dawn. “I was only a little older than you when I was told that I was going to be the defender of the world. I didn’t take it well.”

Dawn nodded. “Yeah, I know. You were, like, all depressed for a whole week; I thought you were just getting your period or something.”

“No, and ew!” Buffy made a face and continued. “The point was that you’re younger than I was and you’ve already had to see some pretty awful things - being kidnapped by vampires, sludge monsters coming out of the kitchen sink, floating demon eyeballs, warlocks, sewer vampires… you’ve seen a lot.” She smiled at Dawn. “And, against all normal Earth logic, I’m kind of proud of you.”

Dawn’s face began to brighten. “You are?” she asked.

“Don’t get me wrong, you’re STILL a tremendous pain-in-the-ass,” Buffy retorted. She wrapped an arm around Dawn’s shoulder and leaned against her. “But you’re MY pain-in-the-ass, and I need to start treating you better,” she sighed.

“What about Alec?” Dawn whispered quietly.

Buffy sighed again.

“Alec has been doing my job; he’s been protector and friend to you when I should have been. He’s always tried to be there for you and, like you said, he treats you like an equal.” She looked down at Dawn. “I guess that goes a long way when you feel all alone.”

Dawn nodded. “Yeah, it does.” Her voice was thick with emotion.

Buffy turned and leaned back to regard her sister.

“You really have a thing for the guy, don’t you?” she asked.

Dawn sniffled and nodded.

“Yeah, I think I do,” she replied. “Faith and I talked on the camper and I told her about it. She said that it sounded like I had it bad.” She looked down. “She said it sounded like I was in lov- in love with him.” She stuttered over the word, saying it aloud for the first time.

“Are you?” Buffy asked gently.

Dawn looked up at her and couldn’t speak, just nodded.

“Are you sure? Cause, once upon a time you would come running whenever Xander came to the door-”

“I’m sure,” Dawn interrupted quietly. She looked up at Buffy, her face taut with emotion. “Every time Alec goes out with you guys, I’m so scared that he’s not going to come back,” she hung her head, “and when I think about that it… it feels like I’m going to die,” she whispered.

Buffy exhaled hard.

“Oh, boy. Yeah, you’re in love,” she replied sympathetically. “But, he’s, like, nine years older than you,” she commented.

Dawn glared at her.

“So? How many hundred years is Spike, or Angel, older than you?” she retorted angrily, punching her sister in the arm.

Buffy looked indignant as she rubbed the spot her younger sister had struck her at. “That’s different,” she replied curtly.

“HOW!?” Dawn screamed at her. “How is it any different? I love him! I love him so much that every time he looks at me I feel like I can do anything in the world! I love him more every day and it’s driving me crazy that I can never be with him!”

Buffy sighed and looked down. “Yeah, I know how that feels,” she replied.

Dawn began to cry again and Buffy wrapped her arms around the girl with a sigh of resignation.

“You’re right, it isn’t different. Not at all, and it must hurt like hell.”

Dawn nodded. “It’s horrible…” she sobbed.

Buffy stroked her hair and kissed it.

“I know, but you don’t want to lose it, do you?” Dawn shook her head.

“No,” she whispered. “Not for anything.”

Buffy breathed a heavy breath and held her. “Then, all we can do is wait and see what happens.” She looked down at Dawn. “Do you want me to talk to him?” she asked gently.

Dawn shook her head. “No! Please, no, I don’t want him to know, I don’t want him to act weird around me.” She sniffled. “Besides, he loves Willow,” she whispered forlornly.

Buffy nodded. “Yes, yes, he does, but he also loves me and he loves his father.” She looked down at her sister. “And I get the feeling that maybe he loves you, too.”

Dawn jerked her head up suddenly.

“You do?” she whispered, her voice full of hope.

Buffy nodded. “It’s not like it is with Willow.” She smiled slightly. “Alec isn’t exactly striving to earn the title of ‘statutory rapist’-”

“Pfft! Like I wouldn’t jump his bones given half the chance.” Dawn said dismissively. “I’ve seen him naked now, remember?”

Buffy looked at her sister in wide-eyed, open-mouthed shock, and Dawn threw her head back and laughed.

“I loathe you,” Buffy finally said when she could find her voice.

“Totally worth it for the look on your face.”

Buffy rolled her eyes.

“All I was saying, before you filled my mind with horrors I’m going to need a gallon of Spike’s whiskey to blot out…,” she added with an askance look at her sister, who just smirked back at her, “…is that I see something between the two of you, some kind of connection.”

“Yeah, that would be my unrequited love,” Dawn shot back bitterly.

Buffy laughed.

“Bitter much? And, no, that’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about the look in his eyes I see when he looks at you.” She reached out and stroked her sister’s face. “There’s something there, you can tell he wants to protect you.” She smiled, remembering the obsessive drive she’d felt in her brother’s mind when she was busy digging him out of the earth. “He takes your safety pretty seriously.”

Dawn smiled slightly. “He’s my hero,” she replied, sounding for a moment like a little kid.

Buffy grinned. “ ‘Ferris Bueller, you’re my hero’ ” she quoted.

Dawn stuck her tongue out at her. “That movie sucked,” she sniffled.

Buffy looked shocked. “That movie so did NOT suck! Just because Freddy Prinze Junior wasn’t in it doesn’t mean the movie sucked,” she admonished her sister in mock outrage.

“Yeah, says you,” Dawn retorted.

Buffy smiled and tousled her sister’s hair.

“Come here, you little monster.” Smiling, Buffy gathered her sister in a strong hug.

Dawn held her tightly. “You’re really proud of me?” Dawn whispered.

Buffy nodded. “Mm-hmm,” she replied.

“Buffy?”

“Yeah, Dawn?”

“You’re bleeding on me.”

Buffy released her sister and leapt back, looking down at her bandaged shoulder, which had begun to bleed again. She blushed and looked up; there was a faint smear of blood on Dawn’s cheek.

“Whoops,” she said sheepishly.

Automatically, she dabbed her thumb with her tongue and reached out to clean Dawn’s face… then stopped. Smiling slightly, she handed Dawn a tissue from her purse, letting the young girl do it herself.

“Thanks,” Dawn replied, taking the tissue and wiping her cheek. “This is really gross,” she commented.

Buffy waved a hand.

“Trust me, be a Scooby long enough and you’ll get used to it,” she assured her.

Dawn snorted.

“Oh, yippee,” she commented dryly.

Buffy struggled to her feet. Dawn rushed over to help her up and Buffy sent her a grateful look.

“Thanks… sis,” she told her.

Dawn smiled slightly. “You’re welcome… brat,” she replied grinning.

Buffy laughed.

“Just out of curiosity, where did you learn to punch like that?” she asked her younger sister.

“I get it from my sister,” Dawn replied matter-of-factly as she walked away.

Buffy laughed again quietly as she sipped her coffee until the footfalls of her sister faded away, and then turned her head.

“So, how did you know how I like my coffee?”

“Well, love, I once tried one of those mocha lattes when you weren’t looking.” Spike came out of the darkness, making a face. “Bloody awful.”

The blond vampire came over to the table and plopped down into the chair opposite Buffy.

“And no, you can’t have any of my rotgut to help blot out the image of your artificial sister shagging your adopted brother.”

Buffy sent him a look. “Don’t call them that, please.”

“What - brother and sister?”

“No. Artificial and adopted.” Buffy sniffed disdainfully. “They are what they are.”

“Yeah, what’s that love?”

“Family.”

Spike grinned and took out his flask. “I’ll drink to that.” He toasted, taking a long pull and swallowing through gritted teeth.

“Yeah, so will I,” Buffy said.

“Say, what now?”

Buffy beckoned to Spike impatiently.

“C’mon, C’mon. Make with the hooch.”

Spike grinned and handed over the flask. “Be my guest, love.”

Buffy took the flask with a cocky grin.

“Hey, I’m the Chosen One, more powerful than any potent potable.”

“Yeah, well this potable may knock you on your Chosen One arse.”

Buffy grinned and swigged back a mouthful of the stuff.

She smiled triumphantly; Spike just smiled expectantly.

And with a volcanic eruption of saliva and whiskey, Buffy spewed the substance from her mouth, coating the entire table and portions of Spike. The vampire howled with laughter even as he was wiping frantically at his shirt.

“Careful, love! That stuff’s expensive!” Spike admonished her, looking down at his clothes. “And I’m pretty sure it’ll eat through my clothes.”

“What’s in this stuff?!” Buffy gasped, still coughing and sputtering. “I mean, is being a member of the walking dead necessary to drink it?”

Spike laughed again and dabbed at his clothes, chuckling.

“Want to go double or nothing?”

Buffy looked at him suspiciously.

“What do you mean?”

Spike gestured at the flask.

“I’ll bet you that I can make you spew just like that, again. Using only half that much whiskey. If you manage to keep it down, I’ll give up drinking until your next birthday.”

Buffy’s look slid from suspicious to dubious.

“Okay, and if I lose?”

“You have to say ‘yes’ to the next thing I ask from you.”





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