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The first clue Buffy had that it had worked was the warmth of the night air. The West Coast in mid summer was nice and balmy; she’d forgotten… recently it had been so cold and grim. Global warming – another gift from the souled vamp that kept on giving. Giving her and all her loved ones nightmares that was! Buffy grunted as she tried to take a deep breath and her ribs twinged, reminding her that human bodies versus Mother Earth equalled a legion of ouches.

She rolled over onto her side and frowned at the blood-stained rose quartz orb Ethan had been holding. It lay on the dew damp grass of the cemetery, a testament to his bravery and sacrifice. The once evil chaos worshipper had really come through for them; he’d got them all here safely, but at the cost of his own life.

Buffy firmed her lips, unwilling to cry but failed. Tears escaped her eyes and ran silently down her cheeks; she sniffled to herself quietly, not wanting to say a word. If she said it out loud that Ethan was dead then it would be real and another friend would be gone from her life. Buffy curled up in a small ball and stared sightlessly at the crystal ball. She was so very tired of it all; her body was aching from the trip back. It felt like she had been put in a spin dryer and left on full for an hour.

All she could hear in her mind was the mantra that Spike was alive in this time, in a wheelchair and all bad moody, but undusty. She would see him soon; most of her being cowered at the thought and another part was excited beyond words. But he would probably want to bite her and not in a good way. She also craved seeing his face and yet another part of her quailed at the thought of his rejection; as far as he was concerned, she was just another slayer to notch on his well worn belt. She needed to see him and she hated herself for that neediness.

Buffy sighed and pressed one hand to her stomach and the other to her heart. Slowly her befuddled brain registered the stickiness on her shirt; Ethan’s blood. Bile rose up her throat and she swallowed convulsively.

Yeah, her stomach was still spinning from the trip back in time, but she was the Slayer. It was time to get the show on the road.

She squinted out of her swollen eyes and espied Willow, Gwen, Robin, the Burkles and Roger all in varying states of unconsciousness. She could hear Robin and Julian cussing a blue streak behind her; everyone had arrived except for Mr Chase. She pushed herself up on her hands and looked around, and then she gagged violently. Buffy staggered to her feet and stared in shock at the scene in front of them.

“God!” She staggered forward.

They had materialised in Restfield. She had picked the location in a moment of nostalgia, a real connection with Spike. A place long since destroyed when he had single handedly saved the world by sealing the Hellmouth against the First.

"Oh! Goddess..." Willow ran over to the tree and grabbed hold of Cordelia's father's lax hands and pulled. But her hand passed through his, the laws of physics and nature had fused in a way that had saved the middle-aged man’s life. He was flickering in between time, unable to take form due to his position within the tree.

"Wills, don't." Buffy came up and lead the distraught Wicca away. She spared the macabre sight a brief moment of prayer and then refocused on the mission. If they succeeded, if they did this right, if they killed one being then it would all be over. Then the entire planet would be saved from the hellish nightmare they had just jumped back in time from.

"Dear God." Roger Wyndham-Price stared at the massive tree and tried not to vomit. The man was caught between moments in time, partially materialised within the tree. His fate was uncertain, his face and body hidden inside the trunk. All that could be seen were his hands reaching for a freedom that he so far hadn’t been able to find in this lifetime.

"Oh lordy, what can we do?" The Burkles stared aghast at their friend's hands.

Gwen eyed the thick trunk, searching intently for a knot, a weak point, anything she could use. "There," she muttered under her breath. Yanking off a glove, she sent a bolt of electricity at the spot and prayed it would work. The tree shuddered. The scent of burnt bark filled the air and for a breathless moment there was nothing, then a deep cracking sound emanated from within the ancient tree. It split in half, releasing what they believed was a dead body. Robin stepped forward and lifted the man into his arms.

“We can’t just leave him out here, it wouldn’t be right.” He looked down at his friend and comrade-in-arms. The man might have been middle-aged but he had fought strongly beside them all for so long.

Buffy looked around, trying to get her bearings. Then she saw the familiar white marble crypt with the heavy wooden door, unmarred by petite boot marks. Those were to come in a few years, when Spike moved in and she took to kicking the door open to get his undivided attentions. “Over there,” she murmured. “We can lay him to rest in there.”

Willow looked over to where Buffy was pointing and drew in a breath at the familiar sight of the crypt. “That’s a really good idea,” she agreed and laid a trembling hand on Buffy’s arm, giving it a squeeze of support.

“Holy Hell!” Robin gasped. He dropped his friend to the ground as he slowly came to consciousness with a groan.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy stared at the steamed up mirror of the Holiday Inn bathroom and reached up to wipe her hand across it. She grimaced at her face, and then looked down at the basin where her blood-stained clothes had been tossed. ‘Ethan…’

She could hear Willow talking to Gwen quietly in the other room. With a sigh the Slayer reached over for the hairdryer and began to dry her hair. Tossing her head forward she ran a brush over and over the long dark blonde mass.

“I can’t believe that you got him out of that tree; it was genius!” Willow grasped the tough ex-cat burglar’s hands in hers and squeezed them hard. “I was uber freaked, cos dad of Cordy and was all in the wood and hands of vapour…it was just all gahhhh!” She waved her hands around her head. Her long white hair curled around her shoulders, its colour belying her age, instead reflecting her power and purity of spirit.

“Was pure instinct. I just figured if the tree wasn’t there then he would be okay.” Gwen smirked at the Wicca; her full red lips parted, showing her even white teeth.

Buffy shook her head. All of them had been ready to write him off, assuming death, but Gwen had stepped outside of the box and saved the man. One less death staining their hands and consciences; instead of mourning they were celebrating. She glanced up at the mirror and ran a comb through her now dry hair and then began to braid the long tresses. As she reached into Willow’s make-up bag the Slayer noticed the pouch. Her fingers trembled as she reached in and pulled out the scarlet silk bag with Ethan’s initials embroidered on it.

“Buffy? What are you doing?” Willow’s voice startled the pensive blonde and she clutched the small bag in her fingers.

Risking a quick glance over her shoulder at Willow, Buffy took a deep breath. “Do you think it might work?”

Willow took the pouch and gently shook out the double-ended quartz crystal. She held it up to the light and examined it closely, her sharp eyes searching for a glimmer of light within the small wand.

“Well?” Gwen joined the two women and peeked over Willow’s shoulder. “Is it worth a shot?” A faint crackle of static lifted her hair as her emotions seeped out of her.

Buffy’s heart pounded hopefully, her fingers twitching. She was aching to pull it out of her oldest friend’s grasp and snap the crystal in half.

Before the wiccan could reply, a spark of light glimmered in the facets of the crystal and began to glow brightly. It grew till it filled the small bathroom with an ethereal light that offered hope to them all; it was a long shot but worth it.

“Try it girl, it might work!” Roger appeared in the doorway. His tired eyes brimming with anticipation and optimism, he nodded at Buffy. “You do the honours.”

Buffy reached out a shaking hand and took the enchanted crystal from Willow and with a whispered prayer she snapped it in half, releasing the light contained within. It flared brightly and then vanished.

“Well, I suppose all we can do is hope for a miracle.” The old watcher left the women and took up his post on his bed, and with a sigh, glanced over at his comatose friend.

Willow hugged Buffy. “I hope it worked.”

“Me too.” The Slayer tucked the broken pieces away in her jacket pocket before pulling out another three small bags. Handing one to each of the others she pocketed her own. “I’m going to get a soda. You guys need anything?” Her voice wobbled with suppressed emotion, she needed a moment to herself to regain her composure. Willow and Gwen nodded and gave her a reassuring smile. The door clicked shut behind Buffy as they sat back down on the battered couch.

Both the women glanced over at the open door and into the next room. Mr Chase lay sleeping on the single bed. Next to him on the other, Roger Wyndam-Pryce lay reading a book. He glanced over his glasses at them; a brief smile curled his lips as he gave them a reassuring nod, before going back to his research. It had been agreed that he would stay to watch over Mr Chase whilst the others had gone off to achieve the first part of their plan.

A desperate plan that would change the shape and destiny of the Aurelius Clan for all eternity and hopefully the fate of the entire world.





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