Gravity

A muffled scream rings outside the castle. I sleepily shake my head.

It’s Dawn.

I wonder what it is this time. Maybe she grew another head? Nah. It’s only one scream. If she had, there’d be two.

Well, she wanted attention.

What with the thrice in the wise, this is bound to be a triple feature. But Will couldn’t say how it’d go. The centaur thing was enough for me. I had to leave. I kinda hoped after all that, the cure would be a cure.

Totally wishful thinking. It wasn’t. The best we could do is make things go quicker. Turns out, a curse really is a curse, it doesn’t much matter what you do.

How could she have been so dumb? It’s not like we didn’t warn her. I mean, I wasn’t sure exactly what the deal was. I just knew it was bad news.

She deserves this.

Oh! It could be spots. Or she might’ve turned blue? The Smurf jokes alone—

Or maybe her two beady little eyes became one big eye in the middle? Now that’d be funny.

Go figure. I was comfy.

Another scream resonates over hers. Male voice and all, this one sure isn’t Dawn.

Xander? You didn’t stay out there with Ms. Ed did you?

As I leap out of bed, Dawn shrieks his name.

Yeah, yeah, he did.

But why?

And why would Dawn want him to stay? I wouldn’t want an audience.

Willow catches my attention. I thought she was—

Weird.

She meets my gaze and says, “We need to get down there.” There’s a no-nonsense sorta edge to her voice. She has this really worried look on her face. So, why am I still tweaking? And when did she get out of bed? I didn’t even feel her move.

My gut tells me to bolt for the door. She’s right. We need to be there. Like, now would be good. I jerk, fighting the impulse. She wants me to come. I’m not sure which way to go. I freeze and just stare her.

’Kay, so…I’m not feeling any smarter.

Another cry echoes outside.

Uh, jeez! It may actually be the eye thing.

It sounds bad. It isn’t Dawn, but it’s definitely a girl—one of the girls. I need to—

Move!

Ignoring my instincts—yeah, that usually ends well. I trust Will, so I do.

“Hold onto me,” she directs.

I stare at her like she’s lost her mind. I can’t help it. She’s hurt. Like really, really hurt. The only way I’m holding on is if it’s to help.

And that worked about as well as—

Oh!

Hell!

No!

Holding on!

Clinging to her neck, I look at the ground. We’re only about fortyish feet up. No big, right?

It’s a huge big! A massive, gianormous, big! We’re seriously moving! Not just a little bit moving…the grass is all blurry. Next time I get dragged out a window, I wanna be the one doing the dragging.

I’m wigging.

It wouldn’t be so bad if she’d just fly upright, but no…she’s gotta play SuperWill. And with me hugging…hanging on to her neck, her hanging onto my waist. Hanging’s right…more like dangling. At least half of me is, anyway. She’s totally getting leotards and a cape when I have time.

I tear my attention from the lawn whooshing underneath us. Of course, I have to shake my head to get the hair immediately plastering my face to behave. It only half works. And it’s not like I can use my hands. Eventually, I see her face. The corners of her mouth are curled just a smidge, like she’s fighting a grin.

She’s enjoying this!

Unbelievable!

I roll my eyes.

Lifting my legs, I wrap them around her. It’s better, but a little weird. Way contactier than I’m comfortable with. Especially after yesterday.

Or was that today?

Clueless.

It’s one of those days, in a string of fuzzy days that all run together into one long day since Will turned up. I do get that most of it was spent in my bed. Not that there’s anything—

She was hurt and I helped. That was the only thing, except that other thing. But that other thing was nothing.

…Or maybe it was everything.

It was nothing. At least nothing I have time for. Self analysis later, now…

I crane my head around to look down. Thank God! We’re landing.

When we get within ten feet of the ground, I let go, hit the grass and roll to my feet. Will touches down just a little too gracefully next to me, but I barely notice her. I’m way more interested in Xander and Satsu.

Why aren’t they moving?

More importantly, why do they look like they sprayed a can of that fake snow on before they dressed?

And y’know, it’d be just great if that was it. But no, this is the kind of nightmarish image that just keeps getting better the longer you look.

Xander has his back to me. Satsu stands a few feet away, sorta half facing him. She’s turned just enough that I can just see the side of her face. Her chiseled white expression says agony. But that’s not the wigsome part. If that was it, the trauma—

Dawn’s behind them with her back to us. Her arms are folded across her chest. Her hip’s kinda cocked to the side. She hangs her head. It’s that super-sulky pose she gets when she’s totally ticked off.

The green skin’s not so much surprising. I knew there’d be something like that, but…I’m seeing way more of it than I want to. Way more than I’ve seen since she was in diapers.

And she could care less! She acts like we’re not even here. How could she possibly miss my pointless landing? I mean, I could see her missing Will, what with the three points, but me…?

Umm, yeah…

What the hell is her malfunction? And what’s wrong with Satsu and Xander? Did she do that to them? Did they see her and just—? Oh, God! I hope they didn’t see her. I mean, it’s totally bad that they’re—but it’d be truly humiliating if this was because of that.

Why isn’t she moving? That pose says tantrum brewing. Maybe it’s not done brewing and she’ll—

Oh, no!

Please, don’t move!

Just don’t turn around!

My head hurts enough.

Why didn’t I grab my bathrobe? It was right there. I could’ve brought it and maybe—

Between my jammies and Will’s jammies, we don’t have enough jammies to go around. There’s no more jammies, no more nothing…

Will?

Why isn’t she doing anything? I mean witch, right? Will, please put something on her to lessen the trauma—my trauma—when I kick her sorry, drama-loving butt all the way back to Berkley!

Somewhere in the jumble, I realize I actually mumbled, “Will.” It’s not the name I meant to say, just what slipped out. And by slipped out, I mean just barely. It didn’t sound much like Will, more like a croak.

“Yeah, Buff?” she replies. She sounds pretty bad too. I have to look. Tearing my eyes from something I totally want to unsee—

Why is that hard? Clueless, but it’s painful and extremely icky.

I meet her gaze. She’s already looking at me. Well, at least…

Uh, no…it’s bad. We’re both just kinda lost.

When the castle flood lights flip on, lighting the grizzly scene, Dawn finally blows. “I can’t believe you two!”

I shut her out and plead, “Will, do something?” I don’t want to hear shit from Dawn. The others are coming. I mean, lights, right? Just dress her. It’s all I ask.

And If I actually asked, it might be helpful. “Do something, please?” I mumble.

Oh, yeah…that should make my meaning much clearer. Of course, it doesn’t. She just stares at me.

I snap and turn on Dawn. She still has her back to me. I stomp across the lawn, fuming, “What the hell is wrong with you?” as I weave between Xander and Satsu. They’re totally—

Why?

Dawn’s hair, it’s green and wiggly, like worms or sna—

My foot snags. Before I register just how screwed I am, I hit the ground face first. The wind rushes out of me. I choke and wheeze, struggling for breath. My vision goes murky. Then everything fades to black. Well, at least that means—

It means something hit me. I roll around, trying to get up. All I see is a big inky nothing. My feet are really heavy, but I clamber to my knees.

“Buffy, don’t!” Will snaps.

I freeze.

Dawn giggles. “Thanks, Will.” Moving closer, she fumes, “Can’t you see?” This must be really amusing ’cause it makes her laugh even harder. I’m personally failing to see the funny. “No, of course you can’t. But then, even when you aren’t blind, you still don’t see. You’re so wrapped up in your own bullshit that you totally miss the obvious.”

What the—?

This is weird as hell. Is she laughing or crying?

Or both?

Huh?

Will shouts, “Dawn, no!”

A crunching sound right next to me gives Dawn away. In spite of the weight, I sweep my leg and plant her right on her bare rump. I want to kill her, but…

“What do—?” I stammer, not quite completing the statement before the pieces fall into place. It’s not Dawn. Turning in Will’s general direction, I seethe, “Let! Me! Go!”

Will responds, “She’s a gorgon.” Her tone’s flat, totally deadpan. Like that answer is somehow supposed to make it all better.

What the hell is she talking about? “A gor-what?” Mid-stammer my confusion turns to rage and I snap, “You attacked me!”

“Medusa,” she prompts helpfully.

Oh!

Oh!

Oh, shit! Xander and Satsu are—

Rustling next to me makes me flinch. The weight lifts as I scramble away. Oh, hell! “And you didn’t know this would happen? How could you not know?” I rant.

She cuts me off. “How could I know? You expect me to know everything. There’re some things I just can’t know.” She bites the last few words off and makes this grumpy sound, kind of a groan, but almost a growl. That’s it. All the anger she has for the moment.

I want to throw something. Of course, being able to see would make aiming and hitting so much easier. And there’s the tiny issue of finding something to throw. Being blind just ticks me off. This feels like one of those stupid Council tests.

I point out the obvious. “But Will, she’s a monster!”

She finally loses her cool. “And what exactly do you think a giantess is…or a kentauride? She’s been a monster!” But she can’t just lose it. She has to make me feel dumb too.

“A what?”

“A female centaur,” she responds dryly.

Ah, the female ones have a special name? Good to know. Shame, I’ve forgotten it already. Why couldn’t she just say centaur? And since when are centaur’s monsters? I mean, pretty…monsters aren’t pretty, are they?

She explains, “Look, Buffy, the curse of the Thricewise is a penance malediction. There’s no way of knowing what will happen because the cursee creates the effect. The curser and the curse itself have nothing to do with it. It’s totally unpredictable.” Oh, goody, back to the dispassionate bluntness. Almost as an afterthought, she adds, “Remember what happened to me with Kennedy?”

I don’t give the afterthought a second thought. My brain’s already spinning at the news.

Uh…

Oh, fuck! “You did this?” I snap at Dawn.

No answer.

No nothing, in fact. No breathing. No movement. No Dawn. She bailed.

The fog gradually thins. Will’s sitting a few feet from me between Satsu and Xander. I meet her gaze through the thick black murk and fume, “Dammit! Why didn’t you let me do something, or—here’s a crazy idea—maybe do something yourself?”

Her face draws into a harsh scowl.

Uh-boy.

Nice. Really nice.

The fog falls to the ground like soot. It covers us. I have no clue what it is. I shake it off my arms and instantly find sympathy for Pigpen. Hell with it. I shake the whole me and hold my breath waiting for the cloud to dissipate. Then I meet her eyes again. Nothing’s changed. Well, something has changed. Somehow, she’s totally clean. Me, I’m still a wreck.

Of course, she makes me wait. And with the waiting comes an examination. When she finally answers, her voice is chilling—quiet, almost passive, but angry—angry in ways screaming just can’t convey. “I did.” And her answer, it’s a little less than satisfying.

I open my mouth, not even sure what to say, but she gets there first. “I can’t fix everything for you. You may think I can, but I can’t. I can’t do it all.”

We’re surrounded by slayers. The entire team’s out here with us and a bunch of the trainees. They stand behind Will at the edge of the sooty mess. I look around, taking in all of their faces. Each one holds a question, but none of them speak. Instead, they listen to her. “Gorgon’s are highly resistant to magic. If I had done something, there’s no telling what my something would’ve done. It would’ve been fun in that flopped spell, unpredictable consequence, everything goes flooey kinda way.”

She takes a deep breath. Some of her anger fades. It doesn’t matter. I still feel like I’m five. “I did what I could. And what I could do was to stop anyone else from ending up like them.” She makes a subtle gesture to indicate the two statues on either side of her.

Gingerly rising to her feet, she offers me a hand up. I accept, though touching her is the last thing I want. The glare she’s giving me is pretty hard to ignore, but I manage. As she pulls me to my feet, I play avoidy and guilty all at once by glancing at Xander. Who says I can’t multitask? Go figure, it turns around to bite my ass. There’s an unmistakable bulge in his jeans, just level with my field of vision. I can’t miss it. No matter how much I want to.

My mouth falls open. I clamp it shut and let go, landing on my butt.

Another cloud billows up. I blink, praying that this—all of this—is just some huge mistake. I’m seeing things, right?

Wrong.

As the dust settles, cementing the nightmare in my mind, I expect to hear laughter. I want it so much, it’s almost there.

Xander didn’t just catch the show…

This feels good. Lying down, all comfy…

At least there’s something that does. If only my stupid brain would shut up, I might even be able to relax.

No such luck.

I turn onto my side, propping my head in my hand and stare at Will’s back. She’s seated at my desk pouring over the usual pile of musty old books. I don’t see how she does it, but somehow, she always manages.

I guess it beats wallowing.

Maybe…

Thing is, I think I’m due a good wallow. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with it. The only problem is, I don’t know where to start.

My attention drifts to the picture above my desk. Refusing to blink, I stare at it until it blurs.

Why can’t things be as simple as they were then? Not that they were all that simple, but none of us were bad effigies of our former selves, injured or missing. And Dawn…she was still away at college. Normal-sized, not forty feet tall. There were no hooves, manes, scales or other snake parts. She was just Dawn.

Now she’s all monstery and missing.

Worse, she’s gonna turn back to plain old Dawn in a few hours. If she’s somewhere a gorgon might find comfy, odds are it’ll be somewhere that Dawn, the nearly naked girl, won’t. We have to find her and the standard locator spells won’t work. Will’s already tried.

Aside from the obvious wig, I’m not even sure how to feel about any of this. Best guess, my head may explode. But that might actually be better than—

Shitty.

Shitty’s the first thing that comes to mind. I feel shitty. But somehow, shitty fails to be shitty enough.

Even if I never say a word, it doesn’t matter. I need to be more specific about what I wish. Rationally, I get that it’s not my fault. But rational doesn’t even enter into this. I still blame myself because I didn’t want Dawn here.

There’s no question. I do love her. I miss her when she’s not around. But missing her is easier…and better for both of us.

Because when she’s here, she’s just—

She’s frustrating as hell!

I can’t stand her most of the time. I don’t know what to do. She drives me nuts. She’s so clueless. She wants to be treated like an adult. Yet, for some unknown, totally mysterious reason, she thinks that whining like a five-year-old is how you earn the privilege.

It makes no sense.

None of that really matters. I don’t have to like her to love her. It’s not a requirement. And truth is, protecting her is still way more than a whacky obsession for me.

I just want her somewhere safe, somewhere away from all this crap…

…And somewhere away from me.

I let go of the breath I was holding and blink. The letting go makes this sound that’s somewhere between a sigh and a growl.

Will glances over her shoulder and I plaster on a sheepish grin. Whoops! Thankfully, she just returns to her books. I scrunch my eyes closed and rub them. Without thinking, I turn back to the all too familiar picture, but something else catches my eye mid-turn. I stare at my helmet. She set it off to the side, on top of my weapons trunk.

I want to go for a ride. Maybe I could fix my issues, away from all of this…and away from her. I can’t think straight with her around.

That is, when she even lets me think. The narcolepsy is getting more than a little old.

I can’t.

Even if I could leave, I can’t leave like this. I’m way too upset. I’d just do something stupid.

…Or probably several somethings.

Those somethings would feel really good, but—

I can wait, I guess. I mean, I guess I have to wait. Besides, venting on a bunch of demons, or monsters, or whatever they are, can be just as good.

I shake my head and turn to our picture.

It’s really dumb, but part of me wishes...

Uh…

I don’t know. I just, I—

I wish she wasn’t here.

Is that really it? Is that what I want?

Maybe.

Things might’ve been—

No.

That’s not even remotely sensey.

…Or fair.

None of this is her fault. She sure didn’t ask for Amy to show. Actually, Will kept the Amy trauma to a minimum. Unless you count what happened to her. Then there was lots of trauma. I wish she hadn’t. Her being hurt is just—

It’s so much easier when it’s me. With me, it’s expected. It’s part of the job. When it’s her, I always feel like she’s hurt because of me. And that’s—

It’s awful.

Really, she did the same thing with Dawn. The damage control, not the getting hurt. Will stopped it. She kept anyone else from getting hurt. Things could’ve turned out so much worse. If she hadn’t been here and that had happened, Slayer Central might’ve turned into a rock garden before anyone clued.

It’s just…

Her being here is seriously messing with me. That’s the problem. I need her here. But I don’t want her here because—

Umm…

Because with her around, I’m not sure of anything. She’s so distracting…and things are so complicated.

Honestly, I just don’t want her to get hurt again. Everyone around me gets hurt. Away from me, she might actually be safe.

…Or safer.

I stare at the picture of her smiling face. It’s all I’ve had for so long. Now I’ve got the real thing and it’s totally freaking me out.

I draw in a deep, even breath. She looks so pretty. That smile’s just—

Once you fall for Willow…

I sigh.

When I said that, I never imagined I’d be talking about myself. Well, I did, but not in that context. It’s no mystery I’ve always had a thing for her. I’d have to be pretty clueless to not see it. But I didn’t get what kind of a thing. I thought I just missed her. That’s all.

Uh, yeah…

And I needed a stupid demon to point it out to me. What is it with me and demons? First it’s Spike. I’m not sure how I feel, but he’s got it all figured. Next it’s a succubus showing me more of Will than—

I have no clue what to do about it. There’s just no part of in love with your best friend that ends well.

Is that really it?

Am I really in love?

I sigh.

I have no idea. I’m totally attached in an I can’t imagine being without her again sorta way. The idea scares me. But I’m not sure which is worse, having her here or not. I’m sorta damned if I do—

It always goes that way with me. I like my swords double-edged.

Thing is, there’s nothing really new. I’ve always loved her. The question is, how I love her? And what does it mean?

Could I see myself naked? Umm…

I mean, us naked? Like us together, naked, doing what—?

She clears her throat and turns a page of her book. Talk about timing. Thank God she’s not looking because my face instantly flushes. I cover it with my hand, trying to rub the heat away.

Maybe that was a good thing. A weird thing, but maybe it was good because I really don’t need to think about that.

It’s strange. I used to know exactly what right was. There wasn’t any question. Now questions are all I have. And I don’t even know how to begin to get that back. It’s like I’ve lost a part of myself. The part of me that was certain.

I’m not certain of anything now.

Well, I’m certain that I’m miserable. That’s about it.

Back then, I wouldn’t have given this a moment’s thought. Not without knowing. And that’s the problem. I don’t know. She won’t tell me anything. All I know is that things between Will and Kennedy aren’t the same. Something happened.

And it was something really bad.

It’s not like Will to make flippant comments about death. But she did. And then she clammed up. I brushed it off to make it easier on her.

Later, when I asked…

I guess they’re still together, but not really together, together. She said something about needing a break.

Thing is, it was like she was blowing me off.

Anyway, there’s a lot more there.

Like that’s a new story. That’s how everything is with Will now.

Partial, incomplete…

It’s hard to believe that I used to know her better than I knew anyone else. Now I don’t know her at all.

I want to.

And me…

I have to wonder if I’m feeling what I’m feeling because I really feel that way, or if it’s just because I’m lonely. If I’m grabbing hold of the first big thing...someone I have really strong feelings for.

Gravity.

I’m falling and I grab on.

If that’s all this is, then I’m stupid. I’m stupid for even entertaining the idea.

I close my eyes and somewhere in the mess I see her face again. Dawn, Xander, Faith, Kennedy, all of them. They’re looking at me like I’m crazy. It’s that night at the house when it all fell apart. They acted like I was trying to get them killed. I was just doing what everyone else was doing. I was trying to find a way clear. It’s not like there were tons of choices.

And I was jealous.

Me!

The realization…or admission—more like an admission—almost makes me laugh. I choke it down. That’s just bad.

Actually, why I even jumped there’s a mystery. As logic leaps go…

I guess it’s ’cause that was the last time we were really together. But we weren’t together at all. Not till the end.

And y’know, that’s so not what I wanted. I just couldn’t believe that of all people, I ended up with Spike. Our world’s falling apart and he was the only one that cared enough to stick around.

I was grateful for that. For him. For the comfort. Comfort was all I really needed.

I just couldn’t figure out why she sided with them. Why she stayed with Kennedy. It’s not like she said much. She thought I was tired.

Duh.

Yeah, I was in pretty bad shape. We all were. I still sorta am.

And she thought I might not be thinking straight. None of them did.

I think what it comes down to is loss. We had all lost so much. But Will…Will had lost more than—

More than anyone ever should. More than any of us had before Xander.

And it was all because of me.

I guess, she couldn’t make that kind of choice again. The who didn’t so much matter. Just the potential was enough.

That’s not something I can ask. And I can’t really blame either. I just have to accept. She either wanted to be with me or she wanted to be with someone she barely knew.

She made her choice.

And I got over it.

…Or I got over it as much as I could. It still hurts, but the brutal truth is that all of the smart rats had already abandoned ship. I was doomed along with anyone that chose to stay. The fact that anyone did—

The fact that she stayed and did exactly what I asked her to do…it shows undoubtedly how she feels. Nothing else matters.

I just wish it had been her holding me. That’s all I really wanted. The other stuff…?

I’m not sure what I want. All I’m really sure of is that I want it to be her holding me next time things get that bad. Like it used to be. Things would fall apart and it’d be us.

Just us.

I open my eyes. Lazily, I look up. Her smile—that same ol’, familiar happy face—it just seems wrong now.

This is normally a question of attraction. Asking if I’m attracted is just stupid, not to mention pointless. I’ve been attracted and I’m still attracted. I was attracted back when the last thing she felt was attractive.

It’s not like I really even had a chance to think. This isn’t something that’d just occur to me, especially when one of us was with someone. And it was always one or the other of us. The vacancy would open and get filled without any thought to—

It was just sort of expected. She was totally not an option. She’s my best friend. How could I even consider…?

The one time it did come up, I made a total fool of myself. I acted like such an idiot. God, was that embarrassing. She told me about Tara and I just lost it. I couldn’t even think straight. I told myself I was just shocked. It was a bombshell. I reacted badly. But if I’m honest, I freaked out because her admission meant that things—

It seriously complicated things between us. Or at least it did for me. Something that had been completely off limits was suddenly possible. I could consider it. There were times when I even did. The walls in Mom’s house were really thin.

But she was with Tara and there was no way. I’d never. They were in love. Like, really in love. Standing in the way of that—

I felt so guilty even being able to hear them. I just bailed. I couldn’t take it.

I put it out of my mind. She wasn’t an option.

And after…

After that, we both—

It got so much worse. It was so bad that I was pretty sure I’d never see her again.

Yet here she is.

I sigh.

I’d say that counts as curious. Yeah…curious is a good word. But not because of sex. I mean, not really. I’m totally curious about it…and completely clueless, with a side of absolutely wigged by the idea. Even if it wasn’t Will, I’d still be wigged. Add her and the wig pretty much doubles.

But what I’m really curious about has nothing to do with the physical stuff. What’s there is so much more than that. There’s so much I’m not even sure…

I’m absolutely certain of one thing, I do love her. There’s no question. Being able to express that…I sorta know how it’d be.

That was such a long time ago. And things were so awful after.

Maybe this wouldn’t be awful. It’s not like Will’s gonna lose her soul over me.

That doesn’t mean it wouldn’t be awful. It could still be awful. Yeah, it’d probably be awful. We are talking about me. I can pretty much make anything awful. It’s a gift.

My track record sort of speaks for itself. The Catholic Church could use my love life as a standard to recruit nuns. One of those this could be you kinda campaigns.

Really, all any of this means is that I have something else to stress me out. Like I need another something. I have plenty of other somethings.

I can’t.

Even if I am in love with her—and right now, I’m not sure—but if I get sure, I could lose her, so I can’t—

Yeah.

That made lots of sense.

Really it did, in an overly complex, completely butchered by my worthless brain sorta way.

I need to just get over it and move on. It’s stupid to even consider. Unrequited love can be oodles of fun, right?

Who am I kidding?

I doubt she’s ever even seen any potential in us. And seriously, if I’m smart, that’s where I should be.

Smart?

Well, there’s always a first.

At the very least, I’ve had enough abject humiliation for one night.

Maybe tomorrow.

Stupid demon.

My shoulders ache. I’ve been ignoring them, but they’re way past the ignoring. I roll onto my back, turning to face my desk, the picture and the source of my bonus angst.

As bonuses go, it’s almost as good as moving granite Xander. Satsu wasn’t terrible, but Xander—the guy weighs a ton. Sorta literally, now. Even with help, I thought I might end up in traction when we loaded him onto the truck. At least they’re not out in plain view anymore. Maybe it’ll limit the scandal and after the damage control, this will all just blow over.

Out of sight, out of mind.

Uh, yeah…I still live with over two-hundred teenage girls. I’ll be amazed if he doesn’t end up stripped and standing in the main hall by morning.

And there are just certain pranks that should carry a death sentence.

I’m so horrible. I really, really wanted to accidentally snap part of him off. It’s not like it was a big part or anything. He’d barely miss it.

A smirk pulls at the corners of my mouth. And it’d totally limit my trauma. But Will gave me this disapproving glare. I swear there are times I think she’s channeling Mom.

Yeah. That’s not even funny. If we ever get him back, he’d bleed to death.

If.

That’s the current big. Or one of many. Apparently, there’s no cure. Once you become a rock, you get to stay a rock, or so the legend says. But Will’s not convinced, or at least she’s not willing to accept.

And I’m right there with her. There’s no way that’s an option. I’m not gonna settle—

She glances over her shoulder and says, “I think I may’ve found something.”

I climb out of bed and lean over her to look. I love the way she smells. I missed this smell. Uh, yeah…’kay, so…stopping now…

I’m hopeless.

She gives me a look. Before I make a complete ass of myself, I focus on the passage she’s pointing at. ‘A gorgon’s lament will be her means of amends.’

Through another sigh, I say, “So?” thinking better of it a second too late.

Yeah, really smooth. You’ve already pissed her off once tonight. Keep going and maybe you’ll—

“Yeah, I know it’s not much,” she admits.

I stifle a sigh of relief. I’m being way hypersensitive. It’s not like me. Actually, it’s kinda the opposite of me. I guess that’s another thing for the pile.

I really need to go for a ride and get my head together. This is just getting—

She prompts me to pay attention by asking, “You do get how this works, right?”

I confess, “Not really. I mean, not so much.” I’m probably missing something important. Scratch the probably, make that a definitely.

She turns to face me and I move away, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. Being close to her really isn’t helping.

When I’m settled in, I make eye contact and she goes on. “There’s no cure. That’s what they say. But people are inclined to say something doesn’t exist if it seems impossible.”

I nod. She’s totally right. The impossible typically is. Or at least, it’s damned painful and potentially life-endy—normally both.

“I think it’s a hint. Maybe not from someone who absolutely knew, but like an educated guess. There are some universal truths—things that work pretty much across the board. One of them is the use of the heart to cure poison. We’ve seen that one enough times.”

I think I see where she’s going. Oh, that’d suck!

She smiles. I glance at the picture. It’s that same smile, an actual happy smile. There’s nothing false about it. She looks so drained, but it doesn’t matter. Her smile lights up the room. How I feel doesn’t matter much either. I have to smile too because she has hope.

“Tears, Buffy,” she says through that beautiful smile. “Getting your hands on gorgon tears would be impossible. But we have an ace in the hole.”

“Finding her is still an issue,” I point out.

She stands and I feel this overwhelming need to protect her again. It’s obvious she’s not moving well. And I get the feeling we’re about to do something monumentally stupid. Like that’s anything new. Moving toward the door, she remarks, “I have an idea where to look, but I need to get started. Even with help, it’s gonna take a while to open the portal.”

No matter how much I want to, I can’t protect her. All I can do is help. I stand and follow her out.

When Will tried to describe this, I just knew it’d be truly bizarre. But bizarre doesn’t begin to cover it. It’s lots weirder than I ever would’ve imagined.

Actually, I think it’s one of the most messed up things she’s ever done to me.

And I was engaged to Spike because of her.

I close my eyes. Not that it helps. Not that I expect it to help. I still see.

But see isn’t right. It’s not really seeing. I want it to be seeing, so I try to make it seeing. But it’s more like sensing. Or…

I have no clue. It’s just not.

The blindfold itches. It’s annoying. I get the why, but it’d be nice if it wasn’t itchy. Avoiding the whole magical superglue thing would’ve been even better. I see the point, but I can’t help thinking that I’m gonna end up looking like Whoopi Goldberg when she takes it off.

And that’s just one tiny thing, one insignificant thing in a heap of other things that are way more disturbing. Like, it wouldn’t be so bad if it was me actually doing the seeing.

I’m not.

It’s totally not me. Everything I see is from Will’s perspective.

Total mind job, I’m part of the view. And I actually even sorta look like me. So much for creative license.

The funny…the girls are way more wigged than I am. Leigh’s looking around, like it might change something. And Ro’s doing something that looks sort of like a sobriety test. I nonchalantly twirl the scythe as I stifle a giggle. Kinda cool. All those years of pretending are paying major dividends. I look completely at ease. The other two are behind me, so it’s hard to tell what’s up with them. I’m sure they’re having fun. I know I am.

Will said this is sort of like sonar. She’s sharing what she sees with us. There’s no way anyone not witchy could do this, but she can share. It’d be nice if we could, but we can’t, so she’s our eyes. As long as we all stick together, we should be okay.

I mean, I guess we’ll be okay. I hope we will…

Nah, it’ll be fine. There’s really no sense wigging over it. I’ll do what I always do. Take it as it comes and do the best I can.

It doesn’t matter that there are tons of problems besides the obvious. Minor details, like I know if I look over my shoulder what I’ll see is nothing. Where there’s something blocking Will, like one of us, the image fades. She can’t see what’s on the other side, so we can’t. If we stay huddled like this, anything moving at us from the outside of our circle isn’t gonna show up. We’re still gonna have to rely on sensing rather than seeing…or sorta seeing. There may be traces of movement, but—

It beats the alternatives.

A strange glow comes from in front of the bookcase near Will and Leigh. They step away. It’s just weird, kinda pretty, but weird. I guess it’s the portal. I mean, what else could it be? Maybe this is how portals look to Will? The colors are dazzling, all of them. It looks like rainbow concentrate. And here I thought portals just looked like shiny white blobs. In the middle of the strange, pretty light is nothing. It looks like a swirling void. Like the sorta thing you get sucked into and squished.

Cheery.

As usual, the waiting was mind numbingly horrible. Drooling was almost an issue. Now here we are and I’m not sure we’re ready. But I’m pretty sure that even another hour of trying to see things through someone else’s magical bat eyes wouldn’t help. That and Will made it pretty plain that just doing this was going to be hard on her. She can only keep it up for so long. Once she’s done, we’re totally blind, so…

We may as well get moving. What’s the worst thing that could happen?

Motioning for the others to follow, I walk over to portal and say, “Let’s go.” Navigating is gonna take some getting used to, but I pull it off without running into anyone…or tripping over my own feet.

Yup, things are just peachy.

I enter the portal and everything goes black. My grip tightens on the scythe. After the standard whooshy, crushing badness, I come out shaken and shaking on the other side. Blind is bad enough, but blind and alone in a place that sets off all my warning flags?

And I expected…?

I take a breath and choke. The air’s thick and acrid. And it’s hot. Not just a little hot, like an afternoon in Riverside during August hot. More like next to an active volcano hot.

Well, I expected to be able to breathe. Wigging might actually be the right answer. But it’s so not gonna happen. The others are right behind me. And we have a job to do.

I step away to give them room. Good thing there’s nothing to trip over ’cause that’d just be stylish, even for me.

It doesn’t take Will long to join me…and with her, my eyes. This place doesn’t look near as bad as it smells. Or at least, my sense of pattern recognition makes it look sorta normal. There are pieces of broken marble columns littering the ground. And plants, lots and lots of plants. It’s an overgrown tropical garden in the center of some ruins. Greek stuff. Like a little slice of Acropolis meets reruns of Gilligan’s Island.

And here we are, just me and the Professor. I had such a thing for him…

When I was five.

I think he reminded me of Dad. Little girls and their fathers, it’s so cliché…and kind of embarrassing.

Yeah…and that turned out well.

But really, Will’s more like Mary Ann, or maybe a mix of the two, the answer person, problem solver and the naïve, small town girl. That’s how she was when we met. Post Buffy, she’s more like a Mary Ann who miraculously survived being left to fend on the streets of Beirut.

Destroying the people I love—just a little hobby of mine.

Whatever…

I really need to get my head in the game.

The others appear one at a time. As Will lifts into the air, the view gets even stranger…if that’s possible. She holds position directly overhead. It’s good, though. We’ll have to adjust a little, but it clears up any line of sight issues.

When the team’s all with me, I whisper, “Stay close.” I don’t need to tell them much. If they weren’t with the program, they wouldn’t be with me.

We’ll be fine.

There’s a tower up ahead. It’s not very big, but it’s the only thing standing, so I guess that’s our goal. It’s as good a goal as any. The view’s still pretty crappy, even with Will overhead. There’s lots of thick cover between here and there. I’m not sure whether that’s a good thing or not. But just standing here seems stupid.

As I pick past the overgrown plants and broken bits of former building, cautiously moving toward the little tower, I notice something that’s pretty cool. We’re in a huge cavern. Light or dark shouldn’t really matter, but it looks like its broad daylight in here. The light source according to Willowvision is a bunch of jagged rock formations on the ceiling. I’m not sure how she gets that, or why I see it, but they shimmer like crazy.

I want to think its pretty, but that’s usually a mistake. The second I start enjoying the view, things turn ugly. It’s a standard.

The ferns ahead of us rustle and I freeze.

I just had to think it.

Good job.

Thing is, I didn’t see anything move, just the plants.

Without a thought, I prepare. My posture naturally changes. I clutch the scythe with both hands, wringing it in my grip.

It’s really funny. I have to think about pretty much everything else except this. Out of all the stuff in my life, there are only a handful of things I just do. They come naturally, sort of like breathing. Not that that’s getting any easier.

But I think if I could just do this, I’d be fine.

I can’t.

And that might be one of the dumber things—

Right on cue, everything goes straight to hell. A blinding, fiery light erupts all around me, followed by inky darkness.

I dive to escape, but I never hit the ground. Something pulls, jerking me. Panicked screams ring out as I sail through the air.

I reach out, trying to find something to hold onto. My hand catches a branch, but it’s ripped away.

Something’s not right. There should be pressure and noise. There’s no other noise, just the screaming. Where’s the big boom…and the heat? I saw fire.

My skin burns, but it’s not hot. There’s no heat. No more than there was. It’s like being stung. I swing at whatever, hitting myself instead.

I have no clue.

It makes no sense.

‘Buffy, please stop!’

The scythe hits something, not me, and there’s a whimper.

Will?

‘Stop!’

I go limp. Her arms are around me. She’s holding me so tight.

This is exactly what I wanted. It figures, I’m losing it.

I put my arms around her waist. She winces when I touch her lower back.

I hit her. The scythe, that’s what—

‘I’m fine. Please settle down, Buffy. I need your help.’

But you’re hurt. I hurt you. Uh, I mean, yeah…are you okay?

‘Yeah, I’m fine.’

I’m sorry.

I rest my cheek against her shoulder. My skin feels like it’s been sanded. It hurts, but at the same time it’s good. I calm enough to actually think.

I touched something. Something brushed the leg of my jeans. Then the plant moved. Next was the explosion, but—

No. It wasn’t an explosion. It was like all the plants blew apart. They disintegrated.

She helps it make sense by showing me. The plants became a swarm. Or maybe it was a swarm on the plants not in the plants. I can’t tell. But there’s no fire, just tons of little blackish-green specks, sorta like bugs. The fire was me. Me and lots of creative license. Spielberg would be proud.

I tense up. The girls! I forgot about—

‘They’re fine.’

The swarm attacks us and we go flying, but while I soar away with her, the girls are thrown back the way we came. When the last one’s inside the portal, it vanishes.

There’s a shield around us. Outside it, the swarm tries to get through. I’m not blind, but it’s dark in here. That’s how things are now. We’re trapped here and they’re—

“Give us the slayer and we may let you live.”

Uh-boy.

I roll my eyes.

I sorta missed the obvious. The strange voice clears that up for me. We’ve got company. Lots of company. Looks like we found exactly what we were looking for. And they want the usual thing.

It’s nice to feel appreciated.

Well, not really.

‘Can you sense Dawn?’

Will replies frankly, “The slayer’s mine. You’ll have to fight me for her. And I don’t think you want that.” There’s a hint of a smile in her voice.

I thought you couldn’t fight them?

‘I can’t. Not directly. But I can make life pretty interesting for them.’

“You know better, witch. Your kind can’t touch us.” The gorgon, whoever she is, sounds way more amused than Will.

‘Dawn?’

Oh! Yeah, umm…it’s weird hearing her voice, but not hearing it. It’s not new, but still weird. I think—

My skin goes all tingly and warm. The pain eases and my head starts to swim just a little.

It’s okay. It’s just Will.

As I search, trying to give her what she wants, angry cries sound out below us. The interesting must’ve started. “You’ll pay for this!” the gorgon rages. Yeah, that would be the interesting. I wonder what she’s doing to them.

“Put it on my tab,” she snarks. ‘Annoying bitches.’

Will, shame on you.

I can’t help it, I have to snicker. It’s almost funny. I wish I could see what’s happening. But from the rumbling sounds, I’d guess that she’s redecorating.

‘Uh, sorry…but they are. Y’know, anytime now would be good.’

Huh?

‘Dawn, remember? Sweet girl, kinda tall. Sometimes taller. Y’know, your sister?’

Oh...’kay, so…sarcasm not really helpful…but nine o’clock maybe?

‘Yeah, that’s what I thought too. I need you to turn around. Don’t worry, I won’t let you fall.’

It feels kinda weird, but I do. I think I see where she’s going with this. I grab and we bail. How we’re gonna bail—

‘Just trust me. When you have her, knock her out.’

You want me to hit Dawn?

‘Yeah, you have any better ideas?’

Nope. I really wish I did. I’ll probably never hear the end of this.

‘Wrap your legs around mine.’

This was already too—

She has her right hand on my shoulder. Her forearm’s between my breasts. Her other hand clings to my tummy. Our clothes are all sweaty and stuck to our skin. It’s—

And I so shouldn’t be thinking about this!

‘Focus, please.’

My cheeks flush. Like I need more heat. I’m already dying. I do what she asks, hooking my legs around hers.

‘I’m really sorry, but this is gonna hurt.’

What happened to pep talks? Remember those? Nice, fluffy little platitudes—

Oh hell!

I hate it when she does this!

The acceleration is—

It’s scary, but in a really cool way.

And being blind again or still, all I can do is hope, or pray. One of those, maybe two…

Two gees, maybe three. Something just short of passing out—something that makes Bernadine look like a pathetic toy. I stiffen against the force.

She’d look really cute in—

And suddenly, I see. It’s strange, what I see is Dawn. No green skin, nothing weird, just my little sister. And I can’t take my eyes off her. She’s right below us.

I reach down and snatch her raised hand, holding on for all I’m worth.

My arm snaps tight. It hurts like hell, but I can’t let go. I won’t let go.

None of this matters. I do my job. If being ripped from a standstill to whatever—if that isn’t enough to make her black out, I thump her over the head for good measure. She goes limp.

As we climb, almost straight up, I get dizzy.

I think I’m gonna be sick.

“Shush, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”

Her voice is soft and soothing. It’s so warm here. I’m all tingly.

She smiles. Exactly that smile. The same smile from my picture. It’s that day, every last detail. I think everyone should have one perfect day.

We stroll through the park, just us Scoobies. Children play and birds sing. It’s a little chilly, but sunny and the air smells good. This definitely isn’t California. It’s weird that my one perfect day didn’t happen there.

A little boy calls out to his friends. The sound of children playing is pretty much the same everywhere in the world, until someone speaks. I picked up enough French in high school to almost carry on a conversation with a six-year-old. He wants to see the ball. Or I think that’s it. It was that or something about a bowl. Another little boy tosses a big red ball overhead with both arms. It’s about all he can manage. He nearly lands on his butt. Yup, that was it.

I giggle and turn to Will. She looks so pretty. All of the stress she normally carries is gone. She swings her arms as she walks, like she doesn’t have a care in the world. Strange…but comforting.

And Xander seems better…or he’s acting like he’s better. The great big, gaping holes Sunnydale left are in the past. He’s laughing and smiling…and of course, cracking silly jokes.

Weirder still, it’s my birthday. Maybe it really was just the Hellmouth making my life a nightmare. Since I’ve been here, at least that much has normaled up.

It could be that the sunset guy was actually cutting me some slack. It’s unlikely, but maybe. Maybe he likes birthdays.

I think we all tried to make this day perfect just so we’d have something to hold onto. I did. After everything that happened, when we were finally together again, I just had to. I had to make them smile. I had to smile even if it was the last thing I felt like doing. I forced it. And by forcing it, because they were happy, they made me happy.

Understanding that what we have is fleeting changes you. You make the best of what you have.

This one day…I could live here. But I can’t. I’m not awake…or not entirely awake. Everything’s kinda fuzzy. I’m clinging to the last remnants of sleep.

I get that.

But maybe I can. Nothing says I have to wake up. That might be the answer. I could just stay here. There has to be a way to do that. There are ways to do almost everything else. Even stuff that people think is impossible, like returning from the grave.

I could play Groundhog Day until this all blows over. But I wouldn’t need to change anything. I could just hang out and be with the people I love.

It’s not a bad idea, but the pain tells me something entirely different. Somewhere, not here, I hurt. I’m still way too hot and every inch of me stings or aches. My head’s all murky and throbby. I may have a concussion. That’d explain this.

One thing’s for sure, I’m gonna have one monster headache. Moving fast is a really bad idea. Moving at all may just suck.

If it wasn’t for the smell, I might wig. But the smell is too, umm…mediciney, maybe too herbaly? It has to be something Will cooked up.

It doesn’t matter. I don’t want to open my eyes. How I got here, where here is—total mystery. One I’m in no hurry to solve. I want this to last as long as possible. This is probably the only break I’m gonna get. The one or two brain cells I have left that haven’t been bruised are enough to tell me that.

Besides, there’s nothing indicating that I’m in danger, so…

Actually, I think it’s kinda the opposite. I’m in a bathtub. Where the bathtub is doesn’t matter.

The last thing I remember, we stopped. It’s not falling or flying that kills, it’s that sudden stop. All the fluids and other goodies in your body just keep going. That’s what makes fighter pilots black out. Why I know that—equally clueless. Too much Discovery Channel I guess.

The real mystery is how she stopped like that and stayed conscious. I mean, she’d have to, what with the fall and the monsters. If one didn’t kill us, the other would. It’s just a fact. So, me, here, now…

I’d say I’m not dead. I’m in too much pain to be dead.

It’s pretty bad when the pain tells you—

“Get off of me!”

My eyes snap open. It’s Will. She’s in trouble.

I reach forward, grabbing onto the tub to leap out. My shoulder pulls and tears. It nearly pops as I let go and fall backwards in agony.

Another voice cuts through the blurry white flashes of light. “What’s wrong with you?”

My stomach clenches. I bite down, scraping for control.

Is that Satsu? Why would she be freaked out by Will?

I open my eyes and stare into the tub. The water’s red. It looks a little like Jell-O—like when you’re making Jell-O—but it’s not as dark red. The color scares me.

“Get off! Let me go!” Will’s frantic cries take my mind off the Jell-O bath. I try again, this time with my left arm. The right one’s dislocated. It’s been set, but it’s still extremely tender.

“Will, are you oh…?” Crashing comes from the other room, cutting Satsu off. I jump out of the bath as she begs, “Willow! No, please stop!” Sliding, I catch myself on the vanity. “Willow?” A door slams.

I have no clue what’s wrong with me. It looks a little like they left me to exsanguinate in the bathtub. I obviously didn’t, but—

When I move, I leave behind red handprints on the counter. They’re like something out of a b horror movie. I look down. There are footprints too. Same story.

It’s not blood. The color’s off and texture’s totally wrong. Blood’s more opaque and sticky. This stuff’s clearer and slimy. It’s sticky too, but not the same. Well, whatever it is, I’m covered in it. I part my fingers and that weird, viscous, webby thing happens.

I’ve been slimed.

I’m really faint and I hurt in fun new ways, but it doesn’t matter. I’m still able to move. I go for the robe hanging on the door and put it on. As I tie it closed, I look down. Everywhere I touch, the white terrycloth turns red. My right hand’s the worst of it. At least I think it is. I hope it is. It’s raw looking, like it’s been partially flayed.

Using my left hand, I open the bathroom door and peek out. I’m in the room where we put the statues. Granite Xander stands across from me, looking terrified…and horny. What a truly twisted combo.

Rowena and Satsu are between him and the door, whispering back and forth. They notice me and Satsu’s expression changes. In a heartbeat, she goes from perfectly fine to disbelieving, stopping somewhere around abject horror. She screams, “No!” Pushing Ro aside, she charges. The look in her eyes says I’m the enemy. She’s totally out of her mind!

Reflex takes over. She kicks. I turn out of her attack. She just misses my face. It leaves her completely off balance. I thought she knew better than this. As she stumbles past me, I sweep my foot and take out her other leg. She topples backward.

I hate to do it.

She lands, kicks off and springs up. This part’s totally fluid. She’s still Satsu. A really wigged, maybe-psychotic Satsu, but definitely Satsu.

And I’m still me. I use her inertia against her. She flips forward and I put everything I have into one brutal uppercut. It connects, throwing her onto her back. As she slides away, my hand explains in explicit terms why that was a truly awful idea. Clutching it, I drop to my knees.

Yup, still me…dumb as a post.

While I was dealing with Satsu, butchering my hand and maybe re-dislocating my shoulder, Ro crossed the room. All I can do is hope she doesn’t want to hurt me too. She stoops to look at Satsu first and informs me, “She’s doon.”

Thanks for the news flash. I think it’s safe to say that Ro isn’t gonna wig on me too. That much is news.

I look up. Y’know, I know I’m not exactly shower fresh, but is it really all that bad? Her expression says yes.

I brush it off and mutter through clenched teeth, “You think maybe we could get Satsu to her room and—?” Folding over, I choke and mop my face. It’s useless. Everything, all of me, is covered with this shit. I give up and try to finish my thought. “I dunno, maybe tie her up or something, before she actually kills someone?”

“Yeah, nu prublem. Boot I tink she’s joost sceered,” Ro replies.

Oh, come on. I get the want to protect your friends, but really…just scared? That’s exactly what makes her a threat. I give Ro a stern glare and my opinion. “Maybe so, but she seems pretty dangerous to me.” There’s an order in there. If she’s smart, she’ll follow it.

I still need to find Will. No wonder she bolted. I struggle to rise and Ro tries to help. It might actually be comical if it didn’t hurt so damned much. Somehow, I make it to my feet. Now all I have to do is stay here. Every step is an adventure, but I manage to cross the room. It’s like my skin’s too tight or something. With every move, it pulls and burns.

At the doorway, I turn back and look at Dawn. She’s lying in bed, covered up to her neck. It’s funny, she looks so cozy. This might be anytime. Me poking my nose in her room to make sure she’s okay. Trouble is, her skin’s still a sickly, powder green. Nothing’s changed. I sorta hoped it had. But that’d just be too convenient…or maybe inconvenient, considering.

It’s really funny, she’s wearing dark glasses. They look totally out of place. I crack a grin despite myself.

“We shouldn’t leave her alone,” I remark as I open the door. “Would you call ops and see if they’ll send someone?”

“Yees, ma’am.”

That’s all I need to hear. I take off down the hall. Best I’ve got is a guess. Will would want out of here. I head for the front door. She’s got at least five minutes on me. The truth is, she could be anywhere on the planet by now. All I have is hope.

Just my luck, it’s what…probably mid-morning considering the hall traffic. Everyone steers clear. Shocked glances are the norm. Some of the girls are even dumb enough to stop and openly stare.

I lock eyes with one of the gawkers. She wigs and looks away as I grumble, “Oh, come on. I get that I look like Carrie after prom night. But really…is all of this attention necessary? A couple of nights ago we had zombies climbing the walls. This stuff should be totally passé by now.” The gripe takes me all the way into the main hall. More importantly, it takes my mind off the signals my body’s sending. It’s not happy in a big way.

I make a beeline for the exit. I hope that when I get outside something will come to me—some inspiration. I push the door open and nothing. It’s a nice sunny day and a lot of the girls are out here. Joy. But that’s the only new thing I learn.

Ignoring them, I follow my nose. Of course, all that my nose knows is pungent herbal badness. I smell like one of those Asian homeopathic medicine shops.

I make it to the stable, completely on autopilot and turn around. I shake my head. The sun’s in the western sky. It’s mid-afternoon, not mid-morning. I’m totally lost.

Clueless.

This is useless.

It’s not like Will to leave a job half done. Maybe if I go in and get cleaned up, she’ll show.

I trudge back the way I came. The forty-five stairs that lay between me and my soft bed were never harder. Despite the warmth outside, in here it’s chilly and damp. I shiver as I climb. Finally, I make it to my room and nearly turn around. I don’t have the key. I try it anyway. It surprises me when the door swings open.

Will sits on the edge of my bed. Without even looking up, she says, “Close the door.”

I shake my head and follow her completely unnecessary instructions. There’s a large bowl on my nightstand and towels on the bed. I take the hint and lay down.

Reaching into the bowl, she fishes out a washcloth and wrings it. When she turns to me, I ask, “What happened?”

She meets my eyes. Raising the cloth to my face, she gently wipes my forehead clean as she says. “You’ve been cut by a blade of grass, right?” The cloth’s really warm. It feels good. And whatever’s on it smells sweet and kinda floral. It’s a pretty smell. The weird part is that it mixes with the other smell. The two things actually smell good together.

That might’ve been a rhetorical question, but I close my eyes and mumble, “Yeah, when I was little.” I think we all were. It was part of growing up. I just had to know if it worked. Mom wasn’t impressed.

Will finishes up my face and rinses the cloth. My neck is next on the list. I get how this is gonna go. And honestly, I don’t care. She can do whatever. I’ll just be happy to be clean.

Uh, yeah, just keep telling yourself that. It’ll help. Of course, it won’t change the fact that she’s extremely gentle and a little too attentive. It won’t make her hands stop trembling. Or block her breath from your skin. And it really won’t change the fact that it’s been over two years since anyone’s touched—

But this isn’t that.

This is me making this more than it is. The only saving grace is the pain. And even that’s—

I’m so attention starved. It’s easy to read more in.

She’s just taking care of you. This is nothing new.

The shaking—it’s nothing. It means nothing. She has lots of other reasons to wig…besides you. Like take the fact that she bailed on one of her best friends. Xander’s still—but she’s here with you.

And it makes no sense.

I can’t ask. There’s no way she wouldn’t flip out.

It feels like a blessing when she starts to speak. “I’ve never seen anything like this. I think the plants produce some sort of natural anti-coagulant.” Her tone is so straight forward. It’s like she’s giving a report. I close my eyes. Just focusing on the sound takes my mind off what she’s doing and makes everything easier. “You were bleeding so badly. This was the only thing I could think to do. It works sort of like that liquid bandage stuff, but it’s better for you. This is the second part. It seals the skin. The first part stops the bleeding and cleans the wounds.”

I open my eyes when she laughs. A smile brightens her face. She comments, “I’ve just never had to use so much of it,” looking positively amused.

“It figures it’d be me,” I reply with a snicker. “I’m good for research and testing.” Her smile’s still infectious. I grin and I shut my eyes.

Water trickles into the bowl. She turns to face me and whispers, “Yeah, you do keep me on my toes.”

When she runs out of bare skin, I reach for the belt of my robe, but she gently moves my hands away and takes over.

I really hope she finds something else to say.

One glance in the mirror is all it takes. I understand why with perfect clarity.

And I really don’t want to.

One glance should be enough. I start to turn away, but I have to look again.

She says it’ll get better. I know she’s right. But that doesn’t change this.

I should just walk away. That’d be smart. But stupid me, I lean in to get a better look. I’ve never seen anything like this.

She said the exact same thing.

I tug the front of my undershirt down. My chest is the same. I lift my undershirt up and look at my tummy. It’s the same. I place my foot on the vanity and push up my sweats. My leg is exactly the same.

Fine scars crisscross my skin, each one no more than a centimeter long. They’re just tiny little scars, but there are so many.

Thousands?

Maybe tens of thousands. One thing’s for sure, I’m not gonna count.

It’s okay. They’ll fade. All of my scars fade. There are only three that haven’t and they were really deep. These aren’t.

There are a few spots that were spared, but not many. Not nearly enough. Tight clothing mostly kept them out, so…

At least I didn’t have to suffer through that. Her touching my thighs was bad enough. I would’ve died if—

But I understand now. I get why she reacted the way she did. Why she had to look so closely. No wonder she was worried about me bleeding to death.

So, foundation?

I reach for the basket with all my makeup and sort through it until I find the right stuff. Yeah, this should do. This stuff was pretty much designed to hide a tragedy. Things like Mount Vesuvius sized zits and birth marks that cover half your face. A plethora of tiny scars shouldn’t be a problem.

My right hand just sucks. It’s mostly covered in gauze. She left my index and middle fingers free, along with my thumb. Good thing too, ’cause if she hadn’t this Boris Karloff fashion statement would be history. As it is, the sling just had to go.

I’ll be fine.

After rubbing some moisturizer into my face, I open the lid of the heavy mineral oil foundation and remove the brush. Funny, I’ve barely used it. That’s seriously gonna change. It takes a few minutes, but I manage to layer on enough to make my skin look smooth.

There’s one thing that really worries me. My skin’s numb to the touch. I have to press to feel anything at all. And when I do all I feel is icky and prickly. I noticed it when Will was—

I don’t know if that’ll go away. I hope it does. But those three spots, the scars that actually stuck. All of them feel like this.

At least the blindfold saved my eyes. It could’ve been so much worse.

I stare at my reflection, meticulously painting on the face I need to see. It still feels weird, but I’m starting to look like me.

I’m really glad she went to sleep. She was exhausted. And there wasn’t anything left for us to say.

What could I possibly say?

No one’s touched me—I want to think like that, but that isn’t right at all. The only one who’s ever touched me like that is her. It wasn’t the way she touched me, but where. No one’s touched me there since Spike. And the last time he touched me like that, he tried to rape me.

I’m not sure she gets that. How much trust it takes.

I forgave him.

But that doesn’t matter.

None of them can understand why.

The forgiveness is meaningless…to this, at least. It’s a separate thing.

There’s still a part of me that’ll always remember how that felt. That’s not something you just forget. You move on. You try to get your life back. But you never forget.

That was my wake up call.

I heard it. And I almost listened.

That’s why I forgave him, because he was the bigger person. He actually listened. He tried to change. In fact, he tried so hard it almost killed him.

And he did change.

Not much has changed with me. Well, everything’s changed. But me, the person I am—

No giant leaps forward here. Progress is overrated.

Thing is, the change didn’t matter. He was right. I still can’t love him. The part of me that remembers won’t allow it.

I finish up my mascara and toss all of my makeup in the basket, then push it back where it belongs.

I look like me. That’s all I needed. I flip off the light and exit the bathroom.

Will’s still asleep. I walk over to the bed and sit down. She makes a couple of silly, incoherent sounds before wrapping her arm around my tummy. Smiling, I take her hand and wait. I need to figure this out before it gets too late. And I’d like her to think I’ve been here all along.

People forget how to lie when they’re asleep. There’s no pretense. What you see is actually the truth.

She cares.

That much is true.

As I caress the back of her hand with my thumb, her arm grows heavier. When I’m sure she’s good and conked, I slip free and silently leave the room.

I can’t believe she lied to me! Why’d she bother? She’s terrible at it. And she knows it. Now I need to know why. And there’s only one way to find out.

I walk down the hallway to Satsu’s room and tap on the door. I’m so not looking forward to this. There’s only one explanation for how she reacted. She’s hallucinating. Me covered in bloody slime wouldn’t freak her out like that. It’d be bad, but a different kind of bad. It’d take something worse—something different—to make her attack me. And I have to know what.

Whatever it is, Will lied to me about it. She said it was nothing. That Satsu was just delirious. But Will wouldn’t react that way either. Not without a reason. She’s the nurturing type. She’d want to help. The two things just aren’t meshy. If I know the truth about one, I can probably figure out the other.

When Ro opens the door, I ask, “How is she?”

“Joos fine,” she says with a smile.

Cutting straight to the chase, I announce, “I need to see her.” Then I motion for Ro to move aside as I ask, “Would you mind?” It’s not a question.

She sneaks past me into the hall as I step through the doorway and turn to face her. She looks concerned. And that’s totally fair. So am I. I offer a reassuring smile and say, “I won’t be long. Take ten. Grab a snack,” but she doesn’t budge.

My expression hardens. She doesn’t look away. Instead she replies, “If you dun’t meend, ma’am, I’d like tu vate.” I nod and shut the door.

That wasn’t about me. Well, not really. I don’t take it personally. Ro’s one of those girls that doesn’t have a lot. Her family’s pretty shitty, so we became her family. She’s protecting us. And I can totally respect that. Besides, backup—if this goes like everything else has today—not a bad thing.

I face Satsu. She’s got the same crazy, saucer-eyed expression. It might not be as bad. At least she’s not losing it—trying to break the ropes or anything. Not yet. Give it time.

I ask, “What do you see?” I have to figure the direct approach is gonna be best. I’ve been there. And reason isn’t something you immediately see.

She locks eyes with me and stammers, “Yu-you’re dead.”

Surprised, but not really, I say, “Oh.” I can’t help grinning. “Huh.” Well, that’s not new. “You mean like flesh-eating zombie dead? ’Cause that’d make total sense.” I really should be ashamed of myself, but the question just sorta pops out. And as usual, me opening my mouth, it makes things worse. She tweaks.

I give her a few to cool down. Then I raise my hands and very slowly, inch toward the bed. I think I can fix this. As I move, I explain what I’m doing, “Look, I get that you’re scared. But if I really am what you think, I won’t have a pulse. I’m gonna let you check. Okay?”

She’s not been catatonic, so that sorta rules out the full sensory head trip. This is like I-MAX. Everything you see is really real and lots of fun, but it’s all smoke and mirrors. With any luck, I can, uh…make her see that.

And that I know so much about this proves just how truly screwed up my life’s been.

I rest my left wrist in the palm of her hand. It’s really weird seeing her like this. But I’ve already smacked her down once. Now she’s sort of helpless and alone with me again. All I can do is try to put her at ease. She can’t really move much, so I help position her fingers. She feels my skin and some of her tension fades. When she locates my pulse, things get even better.

I take her hand and say, “I’m really sorry about this.” I want that to be an apology. But I really can’t apologize for doing what’s right. If she wasn’t tied down, I’d have to put her down. I can’t let her walk around like this. Who knows who else she’d attack. I just hope this passes.

She tries to make eye contact. It doesn’t work. She turns away. I don’t blame her. And I don’t want to stress her out any more than I have to. So, again, I get right to the point. “Look, I need to know something. You don’t see the same thing when you look at different people. That much is obvious. What’d you see when you looked at Will?”

Satsu mumbles, “Light.”

’Kay, that’s not very helpful. I give her a sec, hoping she has more to offer. Finally, I run short on patience and ask, “What kind of light? Was she like a big glowy ball?”

“No, she was beautiful.”

An annoying little niggle of jealousy accompanies her statement. Yeah, I’m seriously losing patience with this. One more time. I ask, “Would you mind describing exactly what you saw?” I can’t make it any plainer. It might be easier for me to talk to Ro. She was alone with Satsu for hours. You’d sorta think they’d talk.

Huh, imagine that. I may be firming up.

Satsu whispers, “Her hair was white and her skin was pale, like a porcelain doll. She shimmered in the light.” Her voice has this dreamy quality. Honestly, if I wasn’t irritated before— “The light, it was in her eyes. But I blinked and she changed. There was nothing. The light was gone and her hair was black.”

“Alright, I get it,” I interject, hoping she’ll just stop. Me dead and Will with black hair. That much is ringing a bell. She’s seeing our pasts.

She turns really quickly to face me. It hurts her to look at me, but she doesn’t give in. Glaring, she asks incredulously, “Do you?” I gape at her, not knowing what to expect. “Ro told me some things. I get what this is. It’s not about the past or the future. Not really. It’s about the person. This is the truth.”

Huh?

“How’d you die, Buffy?”

Again, I say, huh?

Which time? I guess she means the one that should’ve stuck.

She knows this. They all know this. It’s practically required reading. Not that I want it to be.

I respond dryly, “I fell.” That’s not all of it, but I’m not gonna explain. I shouldn’t have to. I fell…and haven’t stopped falling.

“Then why’s there a knife in your back?”

“What?”

“There’s a knife in your back, right between your shoulder blades. It looks like something a Klingon might carry.”

“A cling on? Clinging to what? You mean like static?”

“Star Trek?”

I just stare.

Clueless.

Oh! That’s that stupid show Xander likes. Klingons are the guys with cheap fake tans, Grecian Formula hair and paste-on goatees. There are Muppets with better hair. And those clothes! They wear those awful black and silver polyester jumpsuits.

I shudder.

Knives? They had knives? There may’ve been a letter opener, but I don’t remember any knives.

While I’m trying to decipher Satsu’s cleverly encrypted geek code, she gets all serious on me. I think we have enough geeks. I’m gonna vote that she never become one of them. They can’t have her.

That is, if there’s even a vote. There’s never a vote.

Finally, she explains why she’s so serious. “This means something. Either someone’s going to try to kill you or maybe they’ll betray you? Or maybe they did betray you. It has to be something like that.”

And here I was looking for answers. Silly me, I should’ve expected more questions. Maybe if I asked for questions someone would actually give me answers?

Nah, that’s too easy. It’d never work.

I should go check on Dawn. If Will’s up when I get back, I’ll be able to tell her the truth. Or part of it, instead of just outright lying. She needs to learn that trick.

Besides, I should. I need to know Dawn’s okay and hopefully they’ve made some headway with Xander.

I excuse myself. “Thanks. I need to bail, but one more thing. If you knew what this was, then why’d you flip out?”

“Have you seen yourself?” Satsu asks, immediately thinking better of it. “No, I guess you haven’t.” She anxiously looks away. “Sorry. It was just a hunch. I didn’t know for sure.”

I head for the door, turning back to say, “It’s okay. Fair enough.” As I open it, curiosity strikes. Ro’s standing just down the hallway, but I have to ask, “What about Ro? What do you see with her?” Guilt takes over and I give Ro a nervous glance. “Umm…I mean, if it’s alright to ask.”

“Blood.”

Yeah, I should’ve known better.

I was dreaming.

I have no idea why I’m awake, whether it was the dream that woke me or something else.

Moonlight pours in through my window, creating a pool on the floor. I peer into it and try to remember.

There was an angel. Or I think she was an angel.

A few minutes drift lazily by. I can’t piece it together. It’s like a bunch of broken fragments. And they’re fading. What’s left doesn’t make any sense at all.

Movement in the hallway grabs my attention. I sit up and look around. I’m alone and it’s almost midnight. Will went to sleep around six. That’s plenty of time. It’s probably just her.

Her and a herd of hippos in pink tutus. Now there’s a funny image.

This isn’t funny.

Do I or do I not live with over two-hundred other slayers? It’s probably just a patrol. But it doesn’t sound right. The girls move lighter. And they always chatter to pass the time.

Quick, but quiet, I slide across my bed. I want the scythe. It’s propped in the corner next to my weapon’s chest. I’m not even sure how it got there, but—

Who cares? It’s there and I snatch it up. The feel good doesn’t last. My first impulse makes me feel like I’m five. Not to mention, slightly paranoid. I follow it anyway. Dropping to the floor, I join the litter of dust bunnies under my bed. I never did clean under here. It’s just plain gross. That and this is so obvious, it’s barely worth the ick-factor. But it’s also the best idea I have.

The door, rattles, makes a popping noise and swings open. A strange female voice purrs, “Ms. Summers, it’s time for your medicine.”

Medicine? Oh, please.

Back to the two-hundred slayers I live with. Where are they? How did these freaks get past the patrols?

Oh, and scratch paranoid. It doesn’t even apply. That label should only be used to describe people who don’t have military organizations hunting them. But that’s just the cherry on this sundae of evil.

Do they make evil sundaes?

I bet someone does. We’ve seen evil chocolate bars. Why not evil sundaes?

Yeah, that’s exactly what this is. Every demon, vamp and even the occasional god wants me dead. And my own people wanting to prick with me…it’s just a garnish on a yummy treat.

Shadows move on the floor at the foot of my bed. There are at least five of them, maybe more.

I’m screwed.

But they aren’t my own people. My people are here. These people are just from the same country I am. I suppose, it’s safer to say my own government, ’cause that’s really what this is. The government of my home country wants me dead or in a cage.

Peachy.

As they enter my room, I have an idea. It’s crazy, but in the good way. Careful to not give myself away, I lay the scythe down and glance at the foot of my bed. They’re all still there.

I give my mattress and box spring a hard shove. The whole heavy, awkward thing flips up. But it’s not quite enough. I spring up, hit it again and dive for the scythe.

The bad guys are really noisy. Well, them and the mattresses. Crashing, thudding, grunting…the usual stuff.

Bet they didn’t see that coming.

And go figure, it pisses them off. Gunfire rings out. As I roll away from what’s left of my bed, bullets tear through my mattresses. A couple hit a little too close for comfort. But there’s no pattern, except I count eight. The person shooting’s all over the place. Good thing there are only eight bullets. And there’s only one gun. But one’s enough.

Plenty!

Too much!

God, I hate guns!

The pause gives me time to get up and get gone. I’m in a bad spot. As I sprint to the right of the door, a metallic scrape and click tells me that the one with the gun just reloaded.

What’s left of my mattress and box springs lay at an angle, propped against the door. They shudder and go bouncing across the footboard when the men force their way in. Now, I’m on their blindside and my mattresses are an obstacle. Both things are better for me. The gun still sucks, but I may be okay.

The first guy stands in the half-opened door. I kick it closed. He yelps when his right arm gets smashed in the doorframe. He pushes the door open. Or maybe he falls against it. It’s hard to say, but it opens again.

Y’know, I’ve had dreams like this. Armed men dressed in the latest paramilitary eveningwear busting into my room. They never end well. You’d think there might be the potential for naughty fun, what with the Riley inference, but silly me, I always miss the hunky honey and go straight to the bad place. I guess it’s because Mr. Iowa wasn’t really about naughty fun. He was about trying to find something normal.

That turned out well.

The woman says, “This is all very amusing, but I’ve got your witch. Why don’t you just come out before I get frustrated and do something we’ll both regret?”

And so did this.

Y’know, a little cavalry action wouldn’t hurt right about now. But there’s no one to bail me out. Where are all the girls? My whole team’s down this hall.

I call out, “Alright, just don’t hurt her.” What else can I do? It’s hard for me to believe that they overpowered Will. But no cavalry isn’t the best sign. This place should be crawling with slayers.

I step over the bed rail, holding the scythe low and hopefully out of view. As I move, I prop it in the corner of the bed frame. They don’t seem to notice. That much is good.

Raising my hands, I step into view and lock eyes with—

Unbelievable!

Well, no, not really. It’s just my luck.

That bitch from the video stands in my doorway. And she’s not lying. Or at least, I don’t think she is. The woman in her arms is slumped forward unconscious. It looks like Will. I’m not really sure when she bleached her hair, but—

While her new hair might be, uh…interesting—hell, it may even be cute—it takes a big fat second place to the gun pointed at her head.

That nasty, skanky slut! What’s her name? Will said it. Rilah? No, that’s not it.

Riah? Yeah, I think that’s right, but it doesn’t matter. Well, it may matter, but only to the guy engraving her headstone.

I cock my hip and ask, “Now what?”

“Don’t worry, Blondie, the fun’s just getting started,” the dead woman replies.

Okay, so…enough bullshit. Time to get real. What do I know?

Well, first thing, this is a rerun. And the last time she went all Doctor Mengele. Odds are, she wants to finish the job.

But I’m gonna kill her first.

There are a few other fun factoids working in my favor here. The first is that what’s-her-face will try to shoot me. She’ll forget about Will entirely. But it’ll take her a sec to get it together. She’s just not that comfortable with a gun. The rest…it’s there plain as day on her face: she hates me. Fun factoid number two: the guy with the gimpy arm is to her right and looking really pissy. He hates me too. But his hand’s puffy. It doesn’t matter that his finger’s on the trigger, he’s gonna be Slow Draw McGraw.

Those two are blocking the others. They can’t shoot without hitting their own, so they probably won’t.

I actually have a chance. I may be crazy, but I take it.

Giving Riah my best smile, I whisper, “You’re right.”

Her eyes narrow, but I don’t give her pea brain time to catch up. There’s maybe five feet between me and Mr. Gimpy. Putting a slight spin on my lunge, I make it evaporate before he can blink.

When he fires, I’m on his right side facing him. A bolt of electricity arcs from the rifle. I grab it and turn him to face his boss.

She’s trying to aim at me. It doesn’t go well for either of them. He shoots her. She shoots him.

See. Let that be a lesson to you. Guns are just bad.

My only real worry is Will—I should be worried about the other five guys—but she gets zapped. The bitch fumbles her and I intercept.

As the others open fire, I step into my room and slam the door.

This is nuts, but I’m out of options. I heave Will over my shoulder, grab the scythe and sprint for the window. It’s our best bet. They’d be crazy to follow us.

I hold the scythe out. It breaks the glass. Better it than me. The soldiers burst into my room as we go out the window.

We hang in midair. I know that’s not it, but it feels that way. We’re just moving fast enough there’s a nice gradual arch at first.

And that’s totally rational. But what just happened catches up.

I hear my heart pounding.

Maybe I am crazy? Cold and crazy.

There are white puffy clouds below us. I can’t see the ground.

I thrash around, looking for something to grab onto.

There’s nothing. It’s pitch dark.

There’s no pretty glow.

I’m falling.

I’m still falling.

Think, Buffy! If we land like this—

I throw Will.

My knees buckle. I crumple forward. My hip hits the ground, then my shoulder. I roll, tumble and stop.

I can’t breathe.

I wheeze, desperate for air.

It’s cool. Fine, really. I’ll be fine. I just got the wind knocked out me for uh…about the millionth time. This is nothing. I just have to relax. Take shallow breaths.

Finally, I draw in a painful, shaky breath.

Y’know it’s bad when it hurts to breathe. But then everything hurts, so why not my lungs. A groan slips out. I sound pathetic.

I flop over onto my back and peer blankly into nothing. A glow appears.

I blink.

Am I seeing things?

Jagged lines cut through the poofy white. As they create a spider web over my head, my skin tingles. It’s pretty.

I feel so light. Am I still falling? No, I hurt too much to be falling.

It was sunny. Such a beautiful day. I think—maybe…it rained. I heard rain in my dream. Now it’s so cold. My sleep shorts and tee-shirt are soaked. They stick to me. I might as well be naked. My teeth chatter. This is just fog. Really thick fog.

A second pulse of light ripples through the fog. Mesmerized by it, I stare. It’s so beautiful.

There a buzzing noise. It grows louder.

The back of my neck prickles.

This is bad.

I tense.

A lightning bolt touches down. It hits the scythe, just inches from my head.

I jerk away.

There’s no loud boom. Just sizzling and popping.

Rolling, I put some distance between myself and whatever that is.

Do you hear thunder when you’re this close?

I stare at scythe. Electricity crackles around it. It flows over my wet skin.

Yeah, yeah, you would. If you were still conscious, it’d be instantaneous.

It feels a little like static in those spots that actually still feel.

This isn’t that. It’s not that powerful.

Oh my god! It’s those stupid Taser rifles! The crackling stops and I reach for the scythe. I half expect to get shocked, but I don’t. I snatch it up and flee.

I have to find Will. I think I threw her this way. But I can’t see anything. The fog’s just too thick. And I can’t stand up, not with them—not that it would do any good. I crawl through the thick wet grass, avoiding the lights as I search.

Finally, I stumble across her. It feels like pure dumb luck. But the happiness doesn’t last. There’s something wrong. I know it.

I touch her. She should move. Or groan. Or something. There’s always something. I shake her, hoping…

Nothing.

I put my hand to her mouth. She’s not breathing! I search for a pulse. There isn’t one!

Damn it, Will! Don’t do this to me!

Tears cloud my eyes. Everything looks milky.

I tilt her head back, pitch her nose and breathe into her mouth. Two puffs, then I compress her chest.

Two sets and I check for a pulse.

Nothing.

She’s dead.

No, she can’t be.

No, that’s just crazy. It’s wrong!

It hasn’t been that long. I have to keep trying.

Truth is, I have no idea how long it’s been. Doesn’t matter. I can’t stop. I won’t give up.

I press my lips to hers. They’re chilly and limp. The impulse is insane. Way less sane than charging six armed soldiers and a slayer. But I can’t help it. Between breaths, I kiss her.

It works in fairytales: I love her, I kiss her, she wakes up.

Nothing.

You can’t leave me. I won’t allow it!

Holding back, I pound on her chest. I remember Mom. I—

I was too rough. There was a crack and—

Not Will. She’s gonna come back. I’m gonna make her. She’s young and healthy. There’s no reason for this.

And I’m not gonna let her go. I refuse.

I hit her again. It’s a little too hard.

As I pull back, shaking so hard I can’t continue, she gasps. I touch her. Her stomach muscles are tight. She’s trying to sit up.

Maybe? I dunno.

She chokes.

I touch her face to turn her head. A breath caresses my trembling hand. It feels so good.

I smile.

We need to go. The lights are still—

We have to go now.

I whisper, “I’m sorry,” as I grab the scythe and gently scoop her up.

I scramble to my feet. The castle wall lights up. There are three men crushed into my window, firing into the fog. They haven’t seen us. I turn away, trying to figure out where we should go. When the tree line comes into view, I bolt. We’ll be safe there.

But when we reach the trees, I don’t stop. I weave between them, moving deeper into the darkness.

Something digs into my foot. But I’m so cold and numb. I barely feel it. It’s not until it gives out that I get how badly I’m hurt. I stumble. But somehow I stay up.

I don’t want to stop, but I have no choice.

As I drop to my knees, the fog rises up around us. It’s thinner here. Sort of wispy. For the first time I really get a look at her. This can’t be right. I blink, but nothing changes.

Alright, that does it! This day just can’t get any more fucked up!

Satsu told me about this. I ignored her.

Stupid me.

This isn’t Willow. Or it is, but it isn’t. This isn’t the person I remember. It’s what Satsu described.

As I gape at Will, it hits me. The Guardian, she was like this. It was like she’d been touched by something. Something bigger. Something really old and powerful. The resemblance is uncanny. But Will’s lots younger and, umm…cuter.

She opens her eyes and it’s all I can do to not drop her. It’s not what I pictured at all. Satsu said light. It is, but only sort of. Really, it’s like there’s too much color. Her eyes glisten in the dark. And her skin, she’s deathly pale, but her skin shimmers. And that’s not bleach. Her hair’s white, like snow.

I want to look away. I have to fight not to.

An angel.

I get it.

But I blink again and it all goes away. It was an illusion.

Quite possibly a delusion.

My Willow lies in my arms. Red hair, hazel green eyes and freckles. Lots and lots of freckles.

I smile. She still looks bad. But I’m so happy to have her back, I think she looks gorgeous.

She says, “We need to get to ops.” Her voice is really frail. It scares me, but she’s absolutely right.

I lay her on the forest floor and roll onto one thigh, then fold my legs in front of me. My foot’s a bloody mess.

Dammit! I sound like Spike. But it is. Maybe this is what he meant when he said that.

I swear, if anything went right—

Shit!

The problem’s glaringly obvious when I run my finger over the wound. I grasp the splinter with my nails and pull. It comes out okay. It’s not really that long, only about an inch. Okay, that’s long. And it hurts like a bitch.

It’s good. I’ll be fine. Clean it out, wrap it up, add it to the list of shit that needs to heal.

I pick up the scythe, take her in my arms and stand. She’s right. The castle’s under attack. We should be in ops.

After retracing my steps back to where we entered the forest, I skirt its edge, keeping the castle in view. At the north east corner, I sprint across the lawn. There’s a service entrance here with two huge doors. We use it as a garage for the Jeeps. Dawn even stayed here for a while. She just barely fit. But it was the only place she was gonna fit.

I go to the console to the right of the doors. I have to kind of shift Will a little, but I manage to type in my access code. She doesn’t even stir. It worries me. I lift her up until I feel her breath on my neck. She’s fine, just passed out.

The display flickers and Molly appears. She looks worried. I guess I look like hell. It’d figure. She asks, “Are you okay?”

“No.” I’m not gonna lie to her. I’m anything but okay. “Sound the alarm. Intruder alert, third floor, north east wing, section Alpha.” I look down at Will. “Open the door and wake a medic. We’ll come to you.”

She replies, “Okay.” But her tone gives her away. She’s stunned.

The locks clunk and the doors slowly swing open. Turning to leave, I ask, “Have all the patrols checked in?”

“Patrol E hasn’t, not in the last thirty minutes. I woke up Patrol C and sent them to look into it.”

We can compare notes later. I’ve wasted enough time. “’Kay, we’ll be there in a few,” I reply and take off around the huge steel door. The alarm sounds as I ascend the stairs. I have to jostle Will again to get a hand free to open the inner door. Still nothing. She’s out cold. Shifting her weight, I sprint down the hall.

I round a corner. I think I know where I am. The stairs to the first floor should be just down this hall, off to the right. I hate it down here. Getting anywhere is like trying to find the cheese.

Actually, I was a little thrown when Molly said thirty minutes. I guess everything takes forever when you’re in hell. It’s good it hasn’t been that long. Maybe there’s still a chance to recover.

I reach what I think is the right intersection and find out I’m wrong. Crap. This is just what I needed. Lost in a labyrinth. That’d be a really embarrassing way to die. Especially for me.

’Kay, so…every intersection looks pretty much the same. But it’s gotta be around here somewhere. I follow my nose. It says left.

This place isn’t that much different than the Sunnydale sewers. I should feel right at home.

I don’t.

Not even remotely.

Nostalgia for sewers is where I draw the line. At least these creepy tunnels are slightly less inviting to vamps. Maybe it’s the upstairs neighbors that turn them off?

At the next intersection, I glance right. A sigh of relief slips out. The stairs! Or just some stairs. Who cares where they go. Up’s all that matters. I run up them and lift Will a little so I can reach the lever to open the door.

My nose wrinkles. I step into the library, not even sure at first where I am. How did I get here? A bookcase stands open like a door behind me. It’s like something from Clue. Miss Scarlet in the library with a candlestick. There’s even a book tilted out from the shelf. This is just awful. It seriously dings my cliché meter.

I shake my head and rush out the door. Almost there, Ops is just down the hall.

When I reach the doors, Molly pushes one of them open and motions me inside. She’s set up a couple cots in the corner and Amber—I think that’s her name. Anyway, she’s worked on me before and she’s good. She stands by, waiting for her patients. I think they thought I’d be one of them. Chances are they like surprises about as much as I do.

I place Will on the first cot and make eye contact with Amber. “She was shot with a Taser. I got her heart going again, but—”

But—

I want to stay with her more than anything. But I can’t. My team’s up there with those assholes.

She nods. Her expression says, sit down, you’re next. Sorry, no time.

Maybe later.

I brush Will’s hair out of her face, pausing to caress her cheek. Her face is warmer. That’s a good sign. I stand up. My foot hurts. But it doesn’t matter. I mumble, “Take care of her.” It’s completely unnecessary. I just need to say it.

Molly moves to stop me. She takes one look at my face and backs down. I grab a headset off of Xander’s desk and head for the door. “Look, anything you need to say…” I put the headset on “…say it here. I’m going back. Have Patrol C meet me on the stairs.” I shove the door open.

As I sprint down the hall toward the main lobby, Molly says over the headset, “Be careful.”

“You know it,” I mumble. But she knows better. They all do.

No surprise. The main hall’s empty. I turn, push through the door and run up the stairs. At the top of the third flight, I just keep going. It’s not my fault they weren’t quick enough. They can catch up.

Truth is, I really don’t want them around. I just said that to get Molly off my back. I was serious about killing Riah. If she’s still here—

It’d be nice not to give the girls any real reasons to fear me.

I head straight for my room. It’s a total wreck, but no one’s here. I shake my head and turn around.

I guess, technically, that’d make me a murderer. It’s about as premeditated as something like this gets. But is it really murder if you’re protecting your family?

The ethics debate can come later.

As I cross the hall, three young girls run toward me. Patrol C, I assume. They look like they’re twelve. When they reach me, I smile and say, “Stick together. Start opening doors. Yell if you find anything.”

They won’t.

“Yes, ma’am,” they chime and turn back the way they came. It’s just a little too Stepford for comfort. I watch them open the first door.

Ethics debates are pointless. There’s no one here but us chickens. This hallway’s dead quiet. It’s creepy, like a morgue.

I poke my nose into Leigh’s room. She’s on the floor unconscious. “We’re gonna need medics up here too.” I stoop over her and feel for a pulse. She’s fine.

“I’m sending someone,” Molly replies.

I head for Satsu’s room next. It worries me that she was tied up. When I open the door, she freaks. I put my hands up and say, “It’s just me. Remember?”

She nods, still looking pretty distraught.

Ro’s on the floor. Same story. I check for a pulse. She’s fine too.

How in the hell did these assholes knock my entire team out without—?

I dunno.

But does it really matter? Fact is, they did. They just waltzed in here and took out Will and eight trained slayers like they were nothing. I got lucky. That’s the only reason Will and me aren’t in numbered cages.

I poke my nose out the door. One of the girls notices me and I motion her over. “Patrol E?” I ask.

“Yeah, they’re here in the first room on the right,” she replies.

I shake my head and say, “Okay, thanks. Just wait for the medics. I’ll be in here.” There’s not much left to do. Just recover and be glad that no one else was hurt.

When the girl nods, I shut the door. Facing Satsu, I ask, “What happened?”

“There were men,” she says as I limp over to her bedside. “They forced the door open and shot Ro.” That’s exactly what I expected her to say.

“Buffy,” Molly says over my headset. I gesture to it, so Satsu gets what’s going on. “Willow’s awake. She’d like you to pack a bag.” There’s a pause. I hear Will’s voice in the background, but I can’t make out what she says. Finally, Molly speaks again, “She wants you to bring Satsu with you when you come downstairs.”

“Huh…why?”

“I don’t know. She says she has a job for her.”

I don’t like it. Satsu’s a loose cannon until this wears off. What kind of a job could Will possibly have for her? But there’s no real sense arguing over the headset. It can wait.

“Okay…well, I guess you’re coming with me,” I comment with shrug and lay the scythe down to untie the ropes. Once Satsu’s free, she sits up and rubs her wrists.

Picking up the scythe, I turn away to leave, offering on my way out, “I’m gonna go get dressed. You should do the same.”

Her bed creaks. I half anticipate an attack, but all she does is say, “Okay.” I suppose it’ll be fine. I really should give her a little more credit. Seeing things is awful, but once you get that you are, your reactions can be controlled. Actually, if anything, it might make her reflexes a little slower. That’s not much reason to worry. Monsters still act like monsters, even the human ones.

The hallway’s empty, but there’s movement and voices coming from Leigh’s room. It’s okay. It’s just the girls.

I duck into my room and look around again. I need a bag and clothes. As I pick my way through the debris, Molly says, “Don’t pack the whole room.” She giggles. “That was Willow. Don’t slay the messenger.”

I laugh and open my closet door. “Alright, but ask if half’s okay.”

Molly relays my message verbatim as I grab a large backpack and carry it to the couch.

“I think you should take the eye roll as a negative. Might be best to pack light,” she informs me, like I needed the help. At least we’re kind of kidding around.

Taking one of the few pairs of jeans left in the closet, I pick my way across my room. I have to watch where I step. There’s lots of broken glass. It looks like they tossed my room looking for something before they left. Probably the scythe. My clothes are all over the place. I grab the first pair of panties and bra I see. They don’t match, but anything’s better than what I have on.

“Any idea where we’re going?” I ask and turn for the bathroom.

“None. She won’t say.”

That’s probably best. With us gone, hopefully they’ll leave the others alone. We appear to be the targets. “Tell her I hope it’s Disneyland. I still haven’t been.”

I make it halfway to the bathroom and locate a shirt before the light banter continues. “She wants to know how you guessed.”

I mumble, “Just lucky sometimes.” My mind’s not even on this. Just tiptoeing through the rubble is enough to keep me on my toes…literally. Uh, yeah…it’s nice of Molly to try.

I close the bathroom door. It’s a wreck in here too. All the stuff from the cabinets is strewn all over the floor, mixed in with my dirty clothes. I strip and just add what I’m wearing to the mess. Getting cleaned up is pointless. I couldn’t do that here anyway. I just dress, ignoring the bloody footprints I’m leaving on my clothes. There are more clothes. An excuse to shop will be good. Like I even need one.

When I exit the bathroom, Satsu’s in my room. She’s dressed for fight, but for some unfathomable reason she’s decided to help me pack. She brought some other woman with her I don’t even recognize. A medic judging by her bag. Gesturing to the couch, she says, “Sit. I’ll handle this. Someone needs to deal with that foot. You’re making a mess.” She looks up from folding one of my shirts and grins.

“Yeah, it’s totally tragic,” I snark and hobble to the couch. I’m not gonna refuse the help. At least she’s wearing shoes. Boots actually. I don’t get why she’s in drop gear, but—

Whatever.

I flop back onto the couch and put my foot up on the unbroken end of my coffee table. The medic comes over. I close my eyes and let her work. My grip on the scythe tightens the moment she touches me. This is gonna be one of those.

I sigh.

After a few minutes of the medic digging in my foot and me gnawing the inside of my mouth, Satsu asks, “What was the deal with that jerk in the leather jacket?” It’s good to hear her voice. Something to take my mind off the butchery might be nice. But I have no clue what she means. Jerk is usually a male thing. The only one in leather was Riah.

“You mean the woman?” I mutter through clenched teeth. This just sucks. I open my eyes and glare at the medic. “Look, either give me something or just stop.”

Satsu lets the medic go first. “I really can’t. Not if you want to walk.”

I shake my head, roll my eyes and grumble, “Whatever. Just make it quick.”

When my eyes are closed again, Satsu answers, “That wasn’t a woman. At least I don’t think he was. And he sure didn’t look like the gender change type. Kind of the opposite. He was a misogynistic prick.”

Huh?

The butcher took the hint. The pain’s not half as bad. At least I can think straight. I say, “Describe him,” wondering where Satsu’s going with this.

“Umm…about five-eight to five-ten, heavy build, but not really fat.” She crosses the room before saying more. “Well, maybe a little, but not grossly so.” It sounds like she’s adding stuff as it occurs to her. “Short dark hair, big nose, beady eyes.” She picks up a piece of clothing and shakes it out. “His nose might’ve been broken once.” Glass crunches under her boot. “Sideburns.” She returns to the couch and lays a pile of clothing down. Picking up the first item to fold, she reflects, “I don’t know. He was a pretty average guy.”

He sounds pretty average. I’m drawing a blank. One thing’s for sure, Riah knew me and I’ve never seen her before in my life. But she was the only one in leather.

This is just weird. I need to talk to Will. I’m not sure it’s even possible.

When Satsu finishes folding and packing the pile, she goes back to the scavenger hunt. I knew it’d be bad. Grateful begins to describe how I feel. I’m not sure I could’ve done it.

“He kicked the door open and made a snide comment. Something like…” she changes her voice, mocking a cocky man “…‘Whoa, ladies, I’m not interrupting anything, am I?’ Then he told us to go on. Like we were doing anything except talking.” I grin. The impression’s just too funny. It almost makes me forget that Leatherface is still working on my foot. “When Ro moved, the soldier with him shot her. But our guy wasn’t a soldier. Of that much I’m certain. Why he was with them is anyone’s guess.”

Carrying another stack of clothes to the couch, Satsu unzips my bag and starts to pack as she goes on. “It wasn’t really what he said, though. It was how he looked at us.”

“Yeah, I know the type. He sounds like a real pig,” I mutter. The last person I dealt with like that was Caleb. But he’s kinda dead. Besides, he would’ve drawn the same inference and called them dirty girls. There was Warren. The description matches and the behavior definitely matches, but he’s dead too.

I tilt my head and consider the facts. Technically, I’m dead. What Satsu sees is zombie me. If it was Warren, it’d track that she’d see the dead version too. “Was there anything else?” I prompt, almost feeling like I’m getting somewhere. Getting my hopes up is stupid, especially about this. If I’m right, it actually makes things worse.

She replies, “Nothing much.” She puts the rest of my stuff in the pack and picks it up before continuing. “Well, when he entered my room he didn’t have any skin.”

Shit!

I was right. I hate being right. But, like it or not, Riah’s Warren.

How in the hell did he survive? I watched Will kill him. I didn’t know what to think. I was scared for her, but I was never sorry he was gone.

Now we have Warren and Amy popping out of the woodwork…and soldiers working with them. This is bad.

I had my fill of the Initiative the first time around. Seeing Riley again was an overdose. I don’t need any more.

Warren jacked a slayer’s body? Did he have to kill the slayer? I can’t really see him as the sharing type. Would it really matter? To me, yeah. Lots actually. But it wouldn’t mean anything to him.

I really need to see Will. But Satsu’s still talking. I should listen. “…thought I was just seeing things again, that the version with the skin was the real guy.”

She gives me an expectant look. I should say something.

What should I say?

Uh…

The truth works. “I think I know who it is.” I glance at my foot. Thank God, the butcher’s bandaging it.

I wipe the tears from my eyes. I really need to blow my nose. It can wait. “Do you always see zombie me?” I ask purely out of curiosity.

“Not always.”

“What else do you see?”

“Uh, it’s hard to describe,” she mumbles and goes to my closet. Sitting on her heel, she looks through my shoes. “I guess it’s fair to say that you and Willow have a lot in common.”

She takes out a pair of thongs and some tennis shoes. Returning to the couch, she passes me the thongs and sets my bag down. As she opens it, I try a good ol’ fashioned leading question. “That’s really not an answer. You sure there isn’t more?” Sometimes they actually work. Not often, but it’s worth a shot.

After packing my shoes, she walks to the door and says, “Look, Buffy, if you really want to know the truth about yourself, you know where to look. I’m not some sort of fortune cookie.”

And sometimes they piss people off.

Stunned by her bluntness, I turn just in time to see her leave.

She pauses in the doorway and mumbles, “I hope it works out.”

Huh?

What the hell’s that about?

I give up.

Her voice echoes from the hallway. “I’ll be in Ops.”

The second Bloody Mary finishes, I slip on my sandals and bail. On my way out, I glance over my shoulder and offer an almost sincere, “Thanks.” The scary thing is, my foot feels better. I bet I didn’t get all the splinter out. I’m way better at breaking than fixing. It’s a thing.

Running still sucks, but I need to be in Ops. For all the good it did me, I should’ve never left. I think I’m actually more clueless about what’s up. It’s weird because I know more now. Thing is, none of its sensey. Maybe it’s that I don’t want it to make sense. Warren and Amy working with the Initiative is just plain dangerous. And that’s exactly why it makes sense.

But how do they fit in with sunset guy? With any luck they don’t. That’d just be bad.

Bad or not, my best guess, they probably work for him. The men we found—the one’s the demons offed—they weren’t dressed like soldiers, but there was a military vibe. Their weapons were military issue. And that force-field generator—that was an Initiative toy if I’ve ever seen one. The two things are linked.

So, sunset guy is using Amy and Warren to gather intel about us. That’s just beautiful. Will’s right. I can’t think of a better reason to bail.

The fact that Warren isn’t Warren now really doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a detail, but I’d like to know how he did it. Probably his usual tricks: technology mixed with a little hocus pocus.

And Will’s another issue entirely. There’s something there that I’m seriously missing.

I burst through the doors to Ops and call out, “Will,” sounding just a little too excited. She hears her name and looks up. I dunno what Amber did, but she looks lots better. I smile, but I can’t make it last. I have to tell her. “That slayer—the one who kidnapped you—”

She says, “It’s Warren,” totally cutting me off…and stealing my thunder.

Why am I always the last one to know?

I roll my eyes and look around. Molly grins at me. She looks totally amused.

The other witches are here, working with Will. But Satsu’s M.I.A. She said she’d be here. I have to ask. “Where’s Satsu?”

Will gives me a glance and replies, “She’s with Dawn.”

I huff and shake my head. Of all the—

“Buffy, if anyone can help Dawn now, it’s Satsu. The cure makes her immune to the gorgon’s curse,” she explains. When did she figure this out? I guess it was while I was sleeping. “She’s going to take Dawn somewhere safe and work on helping Xander. It’s the best hope we have.”

Well, she’s right about one thing, getting Dawn out of here is a good plan. They always come at me through my family. “What makes you think Satsu can get anything out of Dawn? She’s been…”

Will interjects, “I’m sorry, Buffy, but I really don’t have time for this.”

I finish my thought by mumbling under my breath, “…a real pain in my ass,” while Will talks over me, “We need to leave too.”

She combs her fingers through her hair, probably searching for patience. Then she actually answers my question. “Honestly, I don’t know that she can. All I’ve got are hunches, just like you. But I do know that if anyone’s going to get through to Dawn, it probably won’t be either of us. And she likes Satsu, so it’s worth a try.”

“What if Dawn pulls another disappearing act?” I feel bad asking, but I have to. The last thing I want is another visit with the gorgons. I need to know that she’s thought this through.

Who am I kidding? All Will does is think things through. I just need the details. Call it for peace of mind.

“She won’t.” She sounds so certain. I don’t see how, but I don’t butt in. I let her explain. “Not unless she feels threatened. That was defensive. Her gorgon self took over and she went where her instincts told her it was safe. That happened because of us.”

When she says us, I hear me. Dawn flipped out because of me.

Will shrugs as if to say, it’s no big. But I’m just glad no one else got hurt. It’d be my fault if they had.

I don’t get why, but suddenly she looks amused. I’m not. Not even a little. “Besides, I told Satsu to knock her out if she gets upset.” Her expression turns sympathetic. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine. Dawn won’t leave if she’s having a good time. She won’t have any reason to. And if something does go wrong, we’ll know about it.”

She’s right.

Okay, one more question. “The other gorgons, is that something we should worry about?” The last thing I want is to add them to my list of problems. My list is fine without them.

She laughs and says, “Uh, no…if we stay on our side of the fence, they should stay on theirs. We’ll try to keep the dog off their lawn from now on.”

That made no sense, but she helps the slow kid out. “They have their own realm, sorta like the world without shrimp only with shrimp and gorgons too. There’s lots of other nasty stuff there. It’s not a nice place, even for a quick visit. But you got that.”

Oh…’kay…so, it’s a demon dimension. I wish she’d just say that.

Crossing the room, I take a seat in the circle next to her and lay the scythe across my lap. “Let’s get outta here,” I say, offering her my hand. “Whatever you need.” I have no clue where we’re headed, but it really doesn’t matter. Not if the others are safe. Or even just a little safer without us.

Molly walks over and hands me my backpack. As I hitch it over my shoulder, she says, “Have a nice vacation. Say hi to Mickey for me.”

I grin and the room goes blurry. I can’t keep my eyes open. I feel all tingly and warm. I’m so nice and comfy, I could go to sleep.

Gradually, the comfy fades and I open my eyes. I’m sitting alone on the floor of a living room. The place has a really homey feel, like Mom’s did, but different. It’s not at all what I expected. I’m not even sure what I expected, but it wasn’t this. I thought we were running off to somewhere remote, not moving into the suburbs.

A refrigerator opens in the next room and Will calls out, “Want anything to drink?” She shouldn’t be waiting on me. Surely Amber told her to take it easy for a little while.

“No, I’m fine,” I reply as I look around the room. The stuff here’s way more, umm…artsy than Mom’s was. That’s kind of a funny thing to think. Mom ran an art gallery. But I dunno, it’s just got a really different feel. Less classic, more modern. Airy and uncluttered. I like it.

Will passes through the dining room. I lose sight of her when she rounds the far end of a large glass table. But I can still hear her. She’s climbing a flight of stairs.

The real weirdness is the tree trunk that grows up through the floor between the living room and dining room. The house was built around it. I stand up to get a better look and see that it supports a second story loft. That’s really nifty. And it explains the high ceiling.

This is her place. It didn’t occur to me that she’d actually have a home. I’m not sure what I thought. I feel a little stupid.

She turns on a faucet upstairs. The sound is amplified by the acoustics of the rooms.

Where are we? Rounding the sectional couch, I go to one of the bay windows at the far end of the living room and pull back the sheer curtains. There’s a large deck. But other than that all I see are tree limbs. We must be on the second story. I wonder what’s below. Maybe a garage? That’d make sense.

Retracing my steps, I pass through an archway next to her entertainment center and into the foyer. I set the scythe and my pack next to the front door and step outside.

The tree limbs sway in the breeze, brushing the edges of the deck. Small breaks in the canopy let rays of sunshine through. And there are butterflies fluttering around. It’s almost too much.

Except for the limbs, forest noises and bird song, it’s ungodly quiet here. Too quiet. The air’s crisp and clean. One thing’s for sure, we’re nowhere near a city.

A prickle runs down my spine, telling me something’s wrong. I can’t see what. This place is almost ideal. There’s even a cedar hot tub built into the other end of the deck. What could possibly be wrong with that?

When I turn to go back inside, something bites my arm. I swat at it and a tiny voice cries out in pain.

I gasp and look around. My hand…there’s a fine violet powder on it. It looks like pollen. Whatever it was, I hurt it.

When I look up, swirling color’s all I see. Every color of the rainbow. A fluttering sound fills my ears. The air around me’s thick with butterflies. Frantic, they weave around me, flowing in and out. It’s beautiful, but—

I’m in trouble. That was no butterfly. But it’s impossible to make out what they are. Fairies, nymphs, pixies…is there any difference?

My arm stings, first one spot, then another and another. So fast.

I don’t want to hurt them. But I don’t know what to do.

I swing, batting the air, trying to make it stop.

My arms, hands, neck and face burn.

No!

The door’s here somewhere. Groping, I turn around, desperate to find it. But I find Will instead. I pull her close and she snaps, “Stop!”

Stunned, I release her, but she doesn’t let go of me. I crack my eyes open. A flurry of brilliant color encircles both of us.

My skin feels like it’s on fire. It’s like bad déjà vu. I tremble. Wrapping my arms around her, I look into her eyes. She’s angry, but so…she’s so beautiful.

My head swims with all the movement. I feel giddy. The burning fades, turning to tingling. She meets my gaze and growls, “I said stop and I meant it.” But she’s not talking to me.

As we stare into each other’s eyes, her expression softens. It’s clear, for the first time maybe, just how much she cares. She loves me. It’s written plainly all over her face.

The impulse terrifies me, but I have to listen. I don’t want to screw this up.

Moving closer, I tentatively search her face, giving her time to withdraw. I close my eyes when our lips meet. She doesn’t resist. I gently caress her lips with mine. It’s wonderful. So soft and warm. Delicate. She doesn’t push me away. My confidence builds. Harder, greedy for more, I trace the edges of her lips with my tongue.

She shoves me and I stumble back. Her face fills with disbelief. She snaps, “What are you doing?”

I hang my head. I can’t look. Peels of shrill laughter fill the air. And shame fills me. I mumble, “I’m sorry. I—” I struggle to find an excuse. There isn’t one. I was wrong. Tiny wings brush my skin. I want there to be pain, but it doesn’t come.

She shakes her head and snickers. But when she speaks her actions and voice don’t match. She’s angry again. “Y’know, this is just like you. I get that you’re confused. But you can’t just latch onto the first thing you see and expect it to make things better. It doesn’t work that way.”

That’s not what this is and she knows it. She’s the one that’s scared. Exasperated, I meet her eyes and fume, “That’s not even what this is about. I saw—”

She snarls, “You saw what?” cutting me off again. I’m getting sick of this. She thinks—

A gust blows the fairies away. They tumble as the wind circles around her, swirling into vortex. Closing her eyes, she whispers, “You only see what I want you to see.” All I hear is the wind. I see her lips move, but her voice cuts into my mind.

As she combs her fingers through the part of her hair, the skin beneath her hand turns pale. Fine, dark veins rise up. In the wake of her hand, her hair turns black. She opens her eyes. I expect them to be black too, but they aren’t even there. Dark voids swirl in the spaces where they should be.

She bows her head. When she looks up, there’s a smile on her face. She looks exactly like she did in my picture. She asks, “Is this better?” But it’s clear that she’s mocking me.

I clamp my mouth shut and grit my teeth. You fucking bitch!

Her smile fades. As she becomes the Willow from the fog last night, I rant, “If this is all I mean to you, then why?” I ignore her and ask something I’ve wanted to for years. I’ve never really understood this. “Why do you always have to save me? Why can’t you just let me go? ’Cause I’ve been looking for a reason and I can’t find one. I have no idea why I’m still here.”

Her expression’s completely impassive. She’s the ice queen from some fairytale.

And I don’t give a shit. I’m gonna speak my mind. “I don’t get it. You don’t want me, but you can’t let me go. Make me understand why!”

She hisses, “If you just need to experiment,” growing madder by the second. “If you have to have some sort of Sapphic conquest to add to your list, there’s this little Asian girl who’s—”

Totally stunned, I exclaim, “Oh, my God,” biting each word off like curse. So, that’s what that was about? I hope it works out.

Shit!

Satsu’s in love with me. And from the sound of that, probably jealous of Will. Just what I needed. More drama.

I take a sec to get my head together. That’s just messed up. But I don’t love Satsu. I mean, yeah, I could have some fling. But I don’t want another fling. I want something real.

Finally, I say, “That’s what you think this is about? I could care less about that. I mean, I’m curious, yeah…but you don’t know shit.” It’s my turn to play with my hair. I’m afraid I can’t put on some impressive show with mine. I sweep it out of my eyes. Making a fist, I pull just to feel the pain. It helps me focus. “If that’s what you think, you don’t know me at all. I love you, Will.”

She changes again. I’m not sure what to believe. She’s right. She only shows me what she wants me to see. This time it’s sorrow. She opens her mouth to speak and it’s so weird. All she says is, “I can’t.” The white hair and pale skin make her look like some Hollywood impression of an elf or something. The sullen act just doesn’t match.

She mumbles, “I’m so tired, Buffy.” And I almost don’t hear her. It doesn’t matter what she says. I reel to catch up.

But that’s it! That’s really it!

Oh! My! God!

Again!

She—

Shit!

The thing with Satsu’s weird. But maybe Will picked something up. Maybe she noticed something I didn’t. She never was good at that stuff, but maybe she learned something new. You never know.

But the picture? There’s just no way. She couldn’t know about that unless—

‘Unless I could read your mind?’

Fuck!

You knew!

Unbelievable!

You listened to all that and you—?

‘You think I wanted to? You think I didn’t try not to? You know what this is like.’

My knees feel weak. I sink onto the deck and pull my legs up to my chest. I can’t even bring myself to look at her. I stare at my feet instead.

Everything I thought was—

‘I see the moon and the moon sees me.’

How could you possibly know how I felt and say that shit?

‘The moon sees the somebody I’d like to see.’

She slumps onto the deck facing me. I find the strength to look at her face and it just pisses me off. That’s a mask. It’s not who she really is. Turn back! I’m sick of that face.

‘Goddess bless the moon and Goddess bless me.’

You say it doesn’t matter. That you show me the face you want me to see. Well, show me another.

‘Goddess bless the—’

“Stop it!” I rage. “I don’t know what’s up with that stupid rhyme, but I’m sick of it! I’m sick of the games! And the bullshit! And the lies!”

Tears flow down her cheeks as she mumbles, “I’m tired.”

What do you mean you’re tired?

She whispers, “I’m tired of pretending. I’m tired of being what you need me to be.”

Let me guess. You got in over your head and this was the price you paid? You talk about me like I’m so predictable. You’re just as guilty. Give you a little power and you abuse it.

‘You’re right. That’s exactly what happened.’

My eyes narrow. “What’d you do?” I hiss, twitching with fury.

Three little words are all she says. “I loved you.” And all she needs to say to completely disarm me.

Huh?

I hate it when she does that!

But the four that follow are just too much. “I still love you.” They completely piss me off.

I shout, “Oh no! You don’t get to lay this off on me.”

Crossing her ankles, she pulls her knees to her chest and stares at her feet. “I’m not. You asked,” she whispers.

I look at her feet too. I wonder where she got her sandals. They’re cute. She’d think I was nuts if I asked.

But I guess I just did. She doesn’t bother to answer.

I glance at her and she’s changed again. Now she looks like she did freshman year. She probably did it to make things easier on me. I wish she wouldn’t.

She holds my gaze and asks, “Do you remember how this started?”

I’m not sure which this she means, so I just shake my head.

As she whispers, “It started when I ensouled Angel,” I return my attention to her feet. They haven’t changed. It’s sad, but they might just be the one real thing about Willow. She has pretty feet. She always has had pretty feet and hands. That’s really rare. She never talks about it. They just always are. With me, it’s a constant struggle. For her, it just comes naturally.

“Do you know why I did that?”

“Because you wanted me to be happy,” I answer by stating the simple truth. Like everything else that got turned all upside-down and backward.

“We went on. Every time there was a new problem, I tried to fix it. I did what I could. And when that wasn’t enough, I did more than I could. Do you understand what that is?”

It sounds crazy. But we both know that’s just how Sunnydale was. We all had to do more than we could.

“But I could’ve walked away. Do you understand why I didn’t?”

I think so.

“Oz understood,” she mumbles and takes my hand, extending my arm. It’s covered in little red welts. She looks them over while she whispers, “He knew that I loved him dearly. But he also understood that I love you too. He had to share me.” She stands up and helps me to my feet. Opening the door, she leads me inside. We walk through the other archway into the dining room and up the spiral stairs as she reflects, “But he thought it was different. He didn’t really know how I felt. He got the devotion, but there was other stuff—”

He couldn’t get his head around the idea of you as a lesbian. I know how that feels.

“Yeah, I kind of kept the naughty thoughts to myself,” she admits with a snicker.

As we slowly trudge up the stairs, I do the math.

Hey! That’s so not fair! You’ve been having naughty thoughts about me and I wasn’t—

She gives me a sidelong glance.

I mean, I didn’t get to share—

Umm…I mean, there was naughty thought having and I wasn’t—

Oh, I don’t know what I mean.

Yeah…that foot—the one that has a timeshare in my mouth—it needs a vacation.

We pass through her study. I think she has more books than I’ve ever seen. It’s a little intimidating. The mountain almost takes my mind off the pain.

“Then there was Tara. Oz finally got the picture when he found out about her.” I’m not quite sure why she continues to talk. She obviously doesn’t need to.

Now I, on the other hand, should really take a vow of silence. Not that it would help. And my brain should be quarantined. I may just need to face it. I’m not safe around telepaths. If I can’t be stupid in my own head, then where can I be stupid?

Uh…

Wait! Please don’t answer.

Thankfully, she ignores me. We walk without incident through her bedroom and into the bathroom. She gestures to a stool. I sit down and she turns away to go through the medicine cabinet as she says, “The day I came to tell you about her, I wasn’t in love with her. Love’s like that. It takes time, you know? You start with those warm fuzzy feelings and it just grows.”

Taking out a jar, she sits at my feet. “It was you. And you didn’t even notice me. I needed you to notice.” She removes the lid, setting the jar aside. But she holds onto the lid in her hand, gripping it loosely in her palm while she speaks. I stare at it, mostly because I can’t face her. “I don’t know what I thought. Maybe part of me hoped that I’d admit to having a thing for another girl. You’d say you had a thing too. And we’d go get Mexican.” She sets the lid down. “It was naïve. Like something from a stupid romantic comedy. I just missed you so much.”

Turning, she opens a drawer and reaches inside, pulling out a pair of scissors. She takes my right hand, cuts the bandage away and sets the scissors down. I couldn’t be happier to see something go. That bandage was filthy. Underneath it, there’s a layer of delicate new skin where the wounds were. It’s pink and raw. She touches it and it tingles. I have to stop myself to keep from pulling away.

“I was hurting and Tara saw me. She understood.” She moves to my wrist and dabs a little ointment on one of my lumps. “I told you how I felt. And you wigged. You couldn’t understand. So, I went to Tara and I’ll never regret that decision.” There are lots of lumps. I look like I was attacked by a swarm of hungry mosquitoes. She keeps going, putting a little ointment on each of them. “You were so busy chasing normalcy, you barely even saw me. But what I had to offer you was anything but normal. At least to us, at that point.”

As she turns my wrist, I whisper, “I’m so sorry.” But she should know that. I thought about this earlier. I wonder what else I thought about. It can’t be good. I bow my head as my face flushes hot. She doesn’t even notice me. My spots are way more interesting even if there are only a few. She treats the ones on my inner arm and releases my wrist.

Taking my left wrist, she whispers, “I didn’t. Not anymore than I could help. That’s what that nursery rhyme’s about. I repeat it so I don’t hear. It’s the only thing I’ve found that helps.”

I focus on our hands. We used to hold hands all the time. I don’t remember why we started or who was even first, but I missed it when it stopped. I still miss it.

I want to make her feel better. Meeting her gaze, I offer, “I remember how that was. I get why you wouldn’t want anyone to know.” But the truth slips out. “Even you treated me differently. It hurt.” And I’m not sure that helped.

She nods and goes back to working on my arm. I don’t see why. I really want a bath. I’m just gonna wash it off.

“It soaks in really quickly,” she says, pointing at the first spot she did. I touch it and my skin’s dry. “I want you to spend at least one hour a day in the hot tub. It’ll help. I’ll get you a suit when we’re done.”

I smile and say, “Well, it’s a hardship, but I’ll manage. That is, if your little friends will let me.”

“I’ll talk to them. It’ll be fine. They know you, or at least they know your name. They just didn’t understand who you were,” she says and moves on to my feet.

I slip off my sandals. Picking up the scissors, she lifts my foot and cuts the bandage away. “You asked me how this happened. Really our relationships have nothing to do with it. Well, except for the obvious.”

Her brow furrows when she looks at the bottom of my foot. Her expression says that she’s as happy with Bloody Mary’s work as I was.

She sighs and moves on to the lumps on my feet. “Things really started to fall apart right before you died. I was doing way more than I should’ve. Tara kept trying to warn me, but I wouldn’t listen. Not that I had much of a choice, considering…” She finishes my feet and moves on to my neck. “You were right, you know. I do abuse power. I always have. I’m an addict. Actually, I’m the worst kind of addict. The kind that can never be clean again.”

I look up and she dabs some of the ointment on my nose. My nose too? I wrinkle it and she says, “’Fraid so.” She takes my chin in her hand and works on my face. That’s just evil.

She grins and I ask, “How do you deal with that?”

“I try to make sure my motives are pure before I do anything. There’s not much else I can do. Magic’s a part of me now,” she replies and turns to leave. “I’ll get you a suit. Stay put.” A few moments later, she leans in the door and places a blue bikini on the counter. “There’s a robe on the door if you want it. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

I change as quickly as I can and put on her robe. After folding my clothes, I exit the bathroom and find my way downstairs. There are huge holes in her story and I’m anxious to hear the rest.

She meets me at the door wearing a robe. As she leads me outside, her story resumes, “When you died, part of me died too. My entire world fell apart. I was willing to do anything to get you back. There was no price too high. I was so selfish, but I didn’t see that until it was too late.”

Walking around the hot tub, she whispers, “And I got you back. But the price I paid…” trailing off as she slips into the water. Once she’s settled, she finishes her thought. “I lost you first. But when I lost myself, Tara finally gave up and I lost her too. We were trying to get that back when—” I’m glad that she falls flat. She doesn’t really need to explain. I was there.

As I lower myself into the water across from her, she says, “I know that I don’t need to tell you most of this. But what I do need you to see is that this was a progression. It didn’t happen overnight. It literally took years. Each time I stepped over the line, I moved further away from what I was.”

I ask, “And closer to…?” leaving her to fill in the blank.

“What I am now,” she replies. Her answer’s blunt, quick and cryptic. It doesn’t really tell me a damned thing. I think she’s trying to say less human. I have trouble imagining that. She’s still one of the most human people I know.

Well, that was eloquent. Good thing she helps me out. I need it. “It’s not about less or more humanity. There are just certain powers that people shouldn’t have.” That makes total sense.

The water smells really funny.

Leaning back, she closes her eyes and says, “It’s good for you. It’s a mineral bath, sort of like a hot spring.”

I wrinkle my nose and ask, “Is this like that tea?”

“Exactly like the tea. Only this is good for the outside, not so much the inside.”

I snicker, but she picks up like she never left off. “I saw something no human being was ever meant to see that spring. That was my fault. It was the end of a very long spiral.” When she falls silent, I wonder why I was smiling. Not just why, but how.

Her voice cracks as she says, “The only one who never lost faith was Xander…” tears leak from the corners of her eyes “…and I failed him when he needed me most. I was just so afraid that someone would find out what I am, I was willing to—”

I whisper, “It’s okay, Will.” Her eyes snap open and she glares at me. I backpedal, trying to make my meaning plain. “Well, not okay so much, but I understand. That’s a really tough choice.”

When she looks away, I feel like I’ve been pardoned. I close my eyes, try to clear my mind and just focus on the sound of her voice. “Remember when I came back from England? I tried to tell you. Even after six months of struggling to learn control, I could barely function. You should’ve noticed. But even my Houdini act wasn’t obvious enough for you.”

I’m sorry. I was just trying to keep us alive.

Ignoring me entirely, she asks, “Do you remember what happened?”

I scoop up some water and splash my face before I respond, “I asked you for more.” It still smells funny. But it does the job. The breeze cools it, taking some of the heat from my face. I feel horrible. But there were no other options. I didn’t have any choice.

“I know you didn’t,” she whispers. It’s cold comfort, but I’ll take it. “That’s why I gave you everything I had…” the glamour drops “…but this is what I am now.”

Even in the sunlight, her eyes are hard to look at. I force myself. She’s still beautiful, but it’s a really different kind of beautiful. The sort of thing stupid people call exotic because they have no idea what else to say. But she speaks and it’s the same old Willow. “I touched something that day that changed me. I’ve been using glamours to hide what I am ever since.”

I think I get it now. Why she talks. She does it to feel normal.

I have to ask. “So, even on the bus—?” She seemed fine. Relieved even, just like the rest of us.

Closing her eyes, she replies, “I was relieved…” leaning back in the tub “…but there was more. I could hear all of you. It scared me. I thought I was losing my mind. But I played along and prayed it would go away.”

I follow her example. The water feels good and I’m even getting used to the smell.

Her voice is soft and sluggish, but she continues to explain, “I cast the glamour and played the part before Kennedy even left the room. I knew she wouldn’t leave if she thought something was wrong and you needed her. She was the only one who ever saw me like this. She assumed I changed back. And I never gave her a reason to think anything different.”

I don’t want to push, but I wonder what happened to Kennedy.

“The same thing that was happening with you. She was suspicious. I can’t be that close to someone and not—”

I blow it by opening my big mouth and totally cutting her off. “But you said she died. Why would you say that?” Huge surprise, it doesn’t go over well.

The water sloshes when she sits up. I can’t bring myself to look. It’s obvious that she’s mad.

She takes a deep breath, slowly letting it go before she responds, “There are some things I’d like to keep to myself.” I swallow, feeling every bone and muscle move. When I look up, her expression’s completely neutral. She meets my eyes and says, “One day, maybe. I don’t even know why I said that. Everything was just so—”

I smile as much for myself as for her and whisper, “It’s okay. I get it.” I don’t want to give her sympathy. I know how that is. She wouldn’t want it. But I can show her some understanding. Maybe it’ll work out. I can help her now that I know.

“Don’t you see, Buffy?” she asks and looks away. “What kind of a relationship do you really think—” her voice cracks and she clears her throat “—we can have with no secrets?” She wipes her eyes. “You’re too late.”

She stops, but I hear the unspoken. There isn’t a person alive that she can get close to.

‘Demons.’

The word makes my jaw drops. That’s right. I remember now. It’s like the mirror.

She giggles, looking truly amused.

“What?” I ask through a smile. Still infectious, dammit. She just told me we can’t be together and I’m smiling like an idiot. What’s worse, she couldn’t come up with a better reason. I must be driving her crazy. All those absent thoughts—it’s like hell. No wonder she kept knocking me out. I would’ve done the same thing back then if I could’ve.

Umm…

Well, without the violence.

Thing is, now I know how she feels—

She stares at me while my mind wanders. But when I trip over that last bit her stare becomes a glare. “You’ll drop it,” she snaps. I look up, on the verge of tears and her expression loses its edge. She whispers, “Please, try to find someone that makes you happy. If you can’t do it for yourself, then do it for me. I need to see it. I need to know that you’re alright.”

I nod. But I can’t even think. I can’t…

“What was so funny?” I ask, praying we can change this. Maybe laugh again. It might be too much to ask. But I have to try.

She admits, “I actually tried to find a demon dimension I could be happy in.” Shaking her head, she rolls her eyes. “Pathetic, I know. The funny comes in when you use those words in the same sentence.”

I just can’t stand it. I look away. Desperate’s nowhere close to funny.

She whispers, “I know,” as I stare into the tree limbs. The fairies are gone or hiding. We’re alone.

Her voice finds strength. There’s almost a trace of a smile in it when she says, “It’s really desperate when you consider how most of them feel about me. They see me as every bit the monster that I see them. I created an army to destroy them.”

Really alone. The rest of the picture comes into view. She’s—

She murmurs, “I’m damned, Buffy.” Her voice has this silky quality that makes my spine tingle. She laughs, but there’s nothing happy about it. “All I can do is watch.”

I turn to face her. Her expression is cold. I’m not even sure what to say, but I try to keep her talking. Maybe it’ll help. “What do you mean?”

“Just what I said,” she responds. The wind blows her hair and she reaches up to sweep it back. “I can’t even take responsibility for what I’ve done.”

“So, you watch…?”

She shuts her eyes, clamping down. The muscles around them twitch. As she lets a little of the tension go, a harsh scowl hardens her face. “I watch you,” she admits.

Her eyes flutter open. She meets my gaze and memories of the graveyard return. That was so creepy. That can’t be what she means. I can’t imagine her ever making me feel that way. Unable to suppress the shock, I ask, “That was you?”

“Yes.”

I stammer, “But I don’t remember.” Scraping to make myself plain, I add, “There weren’t any times before that.”

Some of her sharpness gives way to worry as she replies, “There was something else.” Her brow furrows with concentration. “Someone else. I wasn’t alone.”

Oh, great! Well, that’s just peachy. Just my luck, I find out I’ve got a guardian angel. But she’s just as clueless as I am.

I roll my eyes and she says, “I tried. Every time I got close, they withdrew.”

’Kay, so…no less creepy…but I shouldn’t be surprised. I’m a celebrity in the underworld. You have figure there’s gonna be paparazzi. It’s my turn to scowl.

Anxious to change topics, I ask, “So, how’d you end up here?”

She whispers, “There are only so many places you can run.”

Yeah, I hate my life.