Track B in Track A 

Six days and three hours after Angel started, Sunnydale was his. Actually, six days and three hours after he started, Sunnydale, Cleveland, and the three other Hellmouths in the World – St. Petersburg, Berlin, and someplace in Sudan even he hadn’t heard of – were his. 

He was a great motivator. But then, he had a great reason to do so, and most vamps bowed to the strongest. Those who didn’t were now dust littering the Sunnydale streets. 

When word got out that Angelus was back and wasn’t playing around this time, when word got out that he’d turned the Slayer, when word got out that they were going to rule the world, demons flocked to Sunnydale. Expecting this, Angel had instructed Giles to send Joyce away on some buying trip he’d arranged for her, and told the rest of the now combined Scooby and AI gangs to stay indoors until he – and only he – said it was safe. 

Elizabeth didn’t want them harmed in any way, even if she didn’t understand most of them, even if she wasn’t sure how she felt about them. She didn’t want some random vampire to attack and kill them while she was busy elsewhere. 

Fine with Angel, he didn’t care one way or the other. So long as she was happy, then that was fine. Besides, if they died, then the balance he was striving for would be destroyed as well. Angel was already working on an idea to get Faith out of jail to ensure that balance now that Elizabeth was his. She wasn’t too happy with that, having a jealous streak when it came to others that surpassed even Buffy’s. And Elizabeth wasn’t afraid to voice her…objections. 

“Faith is the Slayer,” Angel said as he watched Elizabeth gracefully rise from their bed, deliciously naked. “She carries the line through her now. In order to maintain the balance, she has to be free to do her duty.” 

“And are those the words,” Elizabeth snarled as she slipped her robe on, covering her lush body, “Of my lover who does not wish to be away from me? Or are those the words of the vampire with a soul who tried to help Faith?” 

Angel’s eyes snapped golden. “You know better than that, lover,” he said, voice low and sinful, the underlying anger there for only her to hear. 

“Right. And I’m sure Buffy did, too,” she snapped, tightening the robe’s belt on her slender waist. 

“Elizabeth,” he said, rising from the bed, all predator elegance and hunger. “She means nothing more to me than a means to an end. If we’re to maintain the balance, she needs to do her job. At least she knows the score, knows whose side we’re all on, and knows that it’s better to stay out of our way.” 

“Somehow,” Elizabeth said in a quiet voice, “I don’t think she wants to stay out of your way. Somehow,” she told him in a frank voice, eyes direct and piercing, “I think she wants to be as in your way as she can be.”

Puzzled he asked, “What makes you say that?” He knew Faith wanted him, even without the enhanced senses he possessed he’d have to be blind to her blatant come-ons. He never saw her like that, not even when he was pretending to be Angelus. She was too…obvious, too needy, too much…period, for him to care. The only reason he had, the only reason he tried to help was because of Buffy. 

When that hadn’t worked, when Buffy had put Faith in a coma, Angel hadn’t given her another thought until she showed up at his now destroyed apartment. Then he wanted to help her – and the thought nauseated him now – because he wanted to do something right with his life. He’d fucked up so much of it already, fucked up all the Buffy parts, that he thought if he could only help Faith… 

Yeah, that hadn’t worked. 

“Cordelia told me,” Elizabeth was saying now, bringing Angel back to the present. “She told me about the,” her lips twitched here, “The ‘floozy’ who tried unsuccessfully to seduce you. And how she then tried to kill you.” Jade green eyes hardened at that thought and Elizabeth growled in anger. She’d never met Faith, knew only what others had told her and what she knew of the Slayer power. It didn’t stop Elizabeth from hating her with a fire that burned brightly. 

“Elizabeth,” Angel said and gathered her in his arms. “Baby, don’t even think it. Faith is too obvious in her dubious charms, and I never wanted her.” 

“Hmm,” she mumbled, but relaxed in Angel’s embrace. She wasn’t sure where the jealously was coming from anyway. Knowing Angel was hers – all of him, every last drop and any persona he was – didn’t change the fact that she was intensely jealous of him with anyone but her. 

“You do more than look at her,” she threatened, voice deadly in its sincerity, “You breath, smile, touch, or think about her, and I’ll torture you for days until you can’t even remember your own name.” 

Angel smiled, sin and love, and kissed her. Hard, deep, commanding. Possessing. “I love you,” he said, opening her robe. The tone of her voice, her words, the look in her eye, all rolled into Elizabeth, had Angel hard and ready for his lover. His Mate. 

Who needed to control the world when ruling the hotspots was enough to ensure an eternity with his woman?
~~~~~~~~~~
Track B in Track A 

Xander waited in Giles living room as he had the day before. 

And the day before that, and the day before that. In fact, he had spent more time in Giles’ living room in the past few months than he had in the three years before blowing up Sunnydale High. Actually, he spent more time in Giles’ living room than he had any other single place – with the exception of his bed – in his life. 

And now, Giles wasn’t even here! 

“I so need a life,” he mumbled to no one in particular. 

“I’ve been saying that since the first grade,” Cordelia said in a bored voice that showed how little interest she now had in verbally sparing with Xander. From her position at the breakfast bar, where she lounged and flipped through the latest issue of People, Cordelia looked like nothing so much as the jaded rich girl she once was. “But no one ever listens to me.” 

They ignored her just as they had Xander. Anya was filing her nails, torn between her burgeoning feelings for Xander – and the many and creative things he could do while fornicating – and her sense of pride. That pride was coupled with boredom. She wasn’t sure how she got caught up with this whole Slayer business, but she didn't like it. All she’d wanted was Xander. And now… 

Now she was wishing she’d done anything – or anyone – to get her amulet back. This humanity stuff was for the birds. Whatever that meant. Humans, maybe in this case. Whatever. 

The point was that she detested Willow and her selfishness tunnel vision. She hated that Giles couldn’t decide if he wanted Elizabeth to stay or go, and wasn’t sure what his own feelings were on her being Turned. Personally, Anya envied Elizabeth. The ex-vengeance demon missed being immortal. Plus, she was tired of Xander’s constant whining over Riley. It made Anya wonder if he hid some homosexual tendencies – and thought that Riley was at least a decent choice, body-wise, if Xander was. 

Which led to thoughts of a ménage. She wasn’t sure Xander would go for it. 

Then there was Tara. Tara who wanted to spend time with Elizabeth but wasn’t strong-willed enough to openly defy her obsessed-crazy girlfriend. Tara who seemed to want the power and the promise that Elizabeth held. Tara who looked at Angel and Elizabeth with more and more wistfulness than Anya thought wise. She wasn’t going to say anything, it wasn’t her place. 

If Tara wanted to be Turned, then that was her business. All Anya wanted was…well, she wasn’t sure what she wanted. 

She wanted power and prestige in the demon community again. She wanted to be the talk and toast of their parties with her inventive wish granting ways. She wanted… 

“What I don’t understand,” Xander was now saying, staring into the moonless night. “Is Spike.” 

“The peroxide,” Anya said as she wandered to Cordelia’s seat, looking over her shoulder at the glossy pictures. “It’s gone to his head.” 

“But that’s just it,” Xander insisted. “Can he really hunt? Isn’t he still all chipped and whatever?” 

“Mind over matter,” Tara said quietly but Anya nodded in agreement. “I think Dru had something to do with it.”

“What makes you say that?” Willow asked from where she was obsessively reading over passage after passage in the hopes of finding a way to return Buffy. Their Buffy. 

“Well,” Tara said as she looked at her hands. “You said she had the power of suggestion, right, Willow?” At the redhead’s nod, Tara continued. “If she has that, then maybe she found a way to…I don’t know, hypnotize Spike into thinking that he’s just as he was before.” 

“But the chip doesn’t work like that,” Willow argued, her eyes frazzled with the strain of the last weeks. This wasn’t what she needed. Even if it was a good point. A scary point, but a good one nonetheless. “The chip works on intent, when Spike feeds, his intent is to…but then,” she said, wondering. “If his intent isn’t to harm, if he doesn’t want to kill, then…” She trailed off, the horror of what they were suggesting enough to have her wonder if Spike just killing his victims outright was better. More…humane. 

“Maybe that’s it,” Anya agreed. “If Spike doesn’t plan on killing or harming, then he can do pretty much whatever he wants.” 

“I liked it better,” Xander said in a mournful voice. “When I didn’t ask the question.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Willow hadn’t realized she’d fallen asleep until she woke up. 

Except she wasn’t sure she was awake. No, she had the distinct impression she was dreaming. In really vivid nothingness with sounds that hurt her ears and sights that made her want to close her eyes. She didn’t, wanting to see and absorb everything she could of wherever she was at. 

‘You aren’t anywhere,’ a voice said off to her left. Familiar but not, as if Willow should know the voice, or had, some other time, but now it was just another voice. ‘You’re where you were, and where we want you to be.’ 

“That makes no sense,” Willow said with conviction. Except her mouth didn’t open and she couldn’t hear her voice. Panic was beginning to seep in. 

Laughter surrounded her. Light and airy and unthreatening, and familiar with that annoyingness that had Willow straining to remember. Which scared her more than she was willing to admit. Swallowing – and wondering if it was actually she that was doing this not some strange mind fuck. But she didn’t do drugs and as far as she knew, she was still in Giles’ living room. So she opened her mouth to ask something else. 

‘You seek the book,’ that eerie voice said in its allness and nothingness that was beginning to freak Willow out. Seriously freaking her out. ‘You seek the book with the wrong tools.’ 

“What tools do I need?” Willow didn’t ask, wondering why she even wondered about tools she was unfamiliar with. 

‘You need the tools to find the book, and the key to open it, and the power to use it.’ 

“And where do I find this book?” Her heart was pounding and her breath was coming in short pants that made her hope there was oxygen in this whatever and, man, she was terrified. 

‘It’s already there.’ That disembodied voice told her. ‘It’s there because now you know of it. But remember. Only the right tools will work.’ 

Jerking awake, Willow wondered just what the hell was in those donuts Xander had brought. Because that had to be it. There had to be some kind of drug in the food. Or else she was spending too much time reading arcane magick tomes. Standing, Willow blinked herself awake and tried to remember what her dream had been about. 

The only clear picture that she had was of nothing and everything, and really, maybe she was obsessing too much over this. Still, she had to get to the Magick Box. She’d been meaning to for some time, wanting to see if they’d received anything in the last few weeks that could help her retrieve Buffy. Now seemed as good a time as any. 

Without speaking to the remaining people in Giles’ home – Xander and Anya – Willow left. She had to, had to, visit the Magick Box. She just wasn’t sure why.
~~~~~~~~~~
It was something that Giles wasn’t looking forward to doing. He’d hoped that he wouldn’t have to, that the whole thing would somehow be resolved before he needed to. Because frankly, he was scared. Scared of her response and her subsequent reactions. Scared to witness what she was going to do to him once she found out. 

Knocking on the door of the Summers’ home, Giles waited while Joyce answered the door. The sun shone brightly outside, timing he’d done on purpose. He didn’t want her storming out in the dead of night when more than the average burglar could grab her. 

“Joyce,” he said as soon as she opened the door, smiling in greeting. “I’m afraid we have to talk.” 

Frowning, Joyce let her daughter’s mentor in. She wasn’t going to like this, she just knew she wasn’t. The sinking feeling she’d had in the pit of her stomach for weeks again made itself known. That and the fact that the last time Rupert Giles had visited her with that particular expression on his face, she learned that her daughter had run away from home.
~~~~~~~~~~
Standing outside the mansion she’d entered only once, Joyce Summers wondered just when her life had become so much like a soap opera. 

Unreal, surreal even. And slightly hard to swallow. Her daughter wasn’t here? Wasn’t in this world? But a Buffy that was, wasn’t her daughter? She still didn’t understand it, but she was determined to. 

She knocked on the door, sun shining brightly against her back. Almost immediately, Angel was there, opening the door. She gave him a tight smile, wondering why he looked different. Even to her. 

“Joyce,” he said, voice neutral and even. “Come in.”

Angel eyed the woman, wondering why she was here. Rupert had to have told her, there was no other way she’d have heard about Elizabeth. Well, he supposed he could understand Rupert’s reasons, but Angel didn’t like them. Not at all. 

“I want to see her,” Joyce began without preamble. “Where’s my daughter?” 

Elizabeth walked into the room just then. The sun weakened her, but she did her best not to show it. She didn’t want that weakness, didn’t want to be caught in such a deep sleep that she wouldn’t ever know if someone had snuck into her house, her room. Not that Angel would ever let that happen, but it was still something Elizabeth worked on. 

“Oh, my God, my baby. My baby,” she walked to Elizabeth, cupping her face with trembling hands, tears in her eyes. Turning a mother’s glare onto Angel Joyce demanded, “What did you do to her you monster?” 

Elizabeth grabbed her wrists, forcing her hands away from her face. She hadn’t felt a mother’s touch in so long, but had wanted it for her entire life. And now that she did, now that Joyce was before her, all but weeping for her, Elizabeth didn’t want it. This wasn’t her mother. This was a Joyce Summers who didn’t understand her daughter, one who had no idea what it was like, who she was. For an instant Elizabeth felt a flash of resentment shoot through her. But no, her mother would understand. If they had lived, her parents would have understood. 

“No. I'm not your daughter.” 

Joyce still refused to believe. “Buffy, stop playing!” She said sharply, a thread of fear in her voice. “If you wanted to be with Angel, I don’t think lying to your mother is the way to go.” 

Both Joyce and Angel noticed Elizabeth’s instinctual wince at the name she hadn’t used in years. “I’m not Buffy,” she whispered, though her heart yearned to hear her mother say it again. Just once more. “I haven’t been Buffy in a long, long time…mama.” There were tears in her voice, emotions that she forced away to be dealt with later. 

Angel quickly crossed the foyer to Elizabeth’s side, one of his hands wrapping around hers in support. His eyes flashed golden and a growl rumbled in his chest. He didn’t want her upset, and yet maybe this was good for her. Not Joyce upsetting her, but Elizabeth seeing that things weren’t the same in this world. 

“Joyce,” Angel said flatly, “She isn’t Buffy. She goes by Elizabeth and if you know she’s here, then I’m sure Rupert told you everything.” 

“Damn it, Buffy,” Joyce said, her temper – much like her daughter’s – on a thin strand when it came to matters of the heart. And family. 

“I’m not Buffy,” Elizabeth said more forcefully. “I go by Elizabeth, I have since my parents were killed when I was a child. No one calls me Buffy anymore.” 

She took a deep breath she didn’t need and tried to explain to not-her mom. It was disconcerting to see her there, alive and well. Older than she remembered her being, but Elizabeth supposed that was to be expected. People aged. But her parents were dead. This wasn’t her mother. 

“I don’t know you; I am not your daughter. You are not my mother and from what I'm seeing,” Elizabeth said in a mocking voice, putting together what she’d heard from Buffy’s friends, from the few things Angel had said. “I wouldn’t want you to be. I was brought here by the same force that took your daughter. Deal with it,” she demanded, holding onto the thought, the childhood knowledge, that her mother, hers would have understood. 

“Deal with it because the sooner you do, the sooner you accept I have no intentions of playing daughter to you, the sooner you can get on with your life. Elsewhere...” 

“Buffy,” Joyce said that stopped herself. “Elizabeth,” she corrected. “I don’t understand. I don’t…” again she trailed off. “You’re not my daughter?” But she already knew the answer to that. What she didn’t know was…too much. She was out of the loop, she didn’t know too much about her own daughter to have a hope of understanding this one. 

“I don’t want to leave you,” Joyce whispered. “I don’t care what name you go by, I don’t want to leave you here, alone.” 

Something passed over Elizabeth’s face, understanding, appreciation, love. “It’s no longer your choice,” she said softly, all previous animosity gone. “I belong here. Here in Sunnydale with Angel. I’m not leaving. You,” she paused, unsure how to address the woman before her. “Mama,” Elizabeth settled on. “You need to leave. This isn’t a good place for you.” 

Joyce said nothing for long, long minutes.  Eventually nodding, she took a step back. Distancing herself from the daughter she never knew – Buffy or Elizabeth. “If that’s what you want,” she said finally. 

Elizabeth nodded. “It’s safest.” 

Joyce’s hand brushed Elizabeth’s cheek once before she turned and left. She didn’t want anyone to see the tears in her eyes, didn’t want anyone to see the distress that weighed heavily in her heart. It didn’t matter if this was the girl she’d raised or not, this was her daughter. And she loved her.
~~~~~~~~~~
Tara stepped out of the shadows and looked at the vampire couple before her. 

Envy streaked through her. She wanted what they had, the love and devotion, the power. Tara had never before thought herself so power hungry, but dating Willow had taught her otherwise. Had taught her that there was a lot of power out there, and it was hers for the taking. Before, she’d been frightened, frightened of it and herself. Now, that Willow had spent time with her, showing her the way it could be, Tara found herself wanting more.

Willow, however, wasn’t sharing. She was more concerned with finding a way – any way – to return Buffy than she was in anything else. And that was fine, Tara understood that. But she was so fanatical about it, ignoring everyone and everything else, even her girlfriend. So concerned that Willow hadn’t even bothered to get to know Elizabeth. Just because things were different in the other world, that there was no Willow there, not that Elizabeth knew about, at least, didn’t mean anything. 

Except Willow still couldn’t give Elizabeth the benefit. 

“Sorry, Tara,” Angel said now as he slowly turned to face the young witch. Elizabeth was still in his arms, eyes closed as if warding off emotions she didn’t want to face. Tara couldn’t blame her. 

“I didn't mean to intrude,” the blonde said quietly, eyes focused on Elizabeth. “I just wanted to…” was she breaking a confidence here? No, because Willow hadn’t told her anything. Willow hadn’t told her anything in a long time, not in the months since Buffy disappeared and Elizabeth appeared.

“Willow left earlier, heading out to find something she said. I don’t think she realized I was there,” Tara admitted. “I was just outside Mr. Giles’ door when she came out. She looked dazed, like she was in a trance or something. I followed her to the Magick Box downtown.” 

Tara fidgeted. That wasn’t the only reason she was here and they all probably knew it. Still, she didn’t say anything to that. Not that she was attracted to Elizabeth, not that she wanted to spend time with her, with her and her new family. Not that she wanted to know more about Elizabeth’s world, the world where she and her mother were these great powerful beings. 

“I don’t know why,” Tara told them, fear and acceptance in her eyes. “But I think that Willow found a way to send you back, Elizabeth. And this time, I don’t think it’s voluntary.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Elizabeth eyed her friend as the other blonde twitched and fidgeted up one side of the room and back again. The sun was just beginning to set, a brilliant summer array of colors and scents that tried to burn its way into her. 

Tara was nervous, extremely so. That much was obvious to anyone, supernatural or not. The way she moved, the way she avoided eye contact with Elizabeth, even the way she couldn’t catch her breath. But there was something more, too. What, Elizabeth couldn’t tell. 

“I want to stay with you,” Tara blurted out, heart pounding, eyes downcast, fingers folding and unfolding around each other with her nerves. 

“You’re more than welcome,” Elizabeth said smoothly, finally having an inkling of what Tara wanted. Well, wasn’t that interesting. And advantageous. “To stay as long as you like. You know that, Tara.” Her voice was soft, comforting, the easy friendship they’d built up over the many weeks Elizabeth had been here clear in her voice. She carefully kept any and all pride, gloating, and sheer glee hidden. 

“I know,” Tara was nodding rapidly and Elizabeth was afraid her head might fall off with the force of her movements. 

“I know I am. But I want….” She paused, swallowed, tried again. Her heart was beating so quickly she thought it was going to beat right out of her chest. Her breath alternated between harsh pants and gasping need, and only exacerbated her nervousness. Oh, God, what was she asking? To become like those things she’d just learned of? To become a soulless creature, needing to hunt, to kill, to destroy?

“It’s not like that,” Elizabeth said as if reading her mind. She walked closer, a graceful movement that spoke of power and confidence. Her voice was pitched low, not to entice, though there was a faint spark in her eyes, but to ensure privacy. “I don’t kill,” she confided. 

“I don’t drain them dry, I take just enough to live. I don’t want to kill,” she continued, that soft voice capturing Tara’s attention completely. “I’ve spent too much of my life protecting to kill those I was born to protect. Tara,” Elizabeth’s gentle fingers smoothed back a lock of her friend’s hair. “It’s so much more than that. If you chose, you can chose not to become like them, but to become more. So much more than they can ever dream of becoming.”

Tara swallowed, her body in turmoil, yet her mind clear. She wanted to stay here; here, where she was accepted and wanted. Here where her powers and her wisdom were needed. Here where they wanted her – not like her family. Where they didn’t hide her – not like Willow. Where they weren’t ashamed of her. Here, with Elizabeth and Angel. 

“I want to chose,” Tara whispered. “And I chose to be like you.” 

Elizabeth smiled, pleased with her friend’s decision. More than pleased, actually. This was going to prove useful. Very useful in Angel’s plans on ruling the Hellmouths. Because when one ruled the gateways to Hell, one ruled all. 

As Tara sighed in relief at Elizabeth’s words. Her eyes closed in acceptance of her choice, and so missed Elizabeth’s eyes seeking out her lover. Angel stood in the shadow of the hallway, watching with that predatory look on his face that said Elizabeth wasn’t the only one who wanted this, who saw the potential. Tara was a great asset, and once she learned more of her powers, she was going to be a magnificent witch. 

Blowing him a kiss, eyes full of promise, Elizabeth guided Tara to the couch. Dru and Spike weren’t nearby, and yet Elizabeth had a feeling that they’d welcome the newest addition to their family. Dru especially; the vampiress had taken to cooing over Tara as if she were a lost lamb. Not a bad analogy, actually, but Elizabeth wasn’t inclined to wonder on Dru’s thoughts. 

If Angel and Spike couldn’t figure them out, then no one could. 

“Sit and relax, Tara,” Elizabeth instructed. “I promise everything will be just fine.”
~~~~~~~~~~
Giles’ living room was never going to recover from the months following Elizabeth’s arrival in this Sunnydale. 

Now, as Willow sprinkled sacred salt, red, white, and black, in two concentric circles, she wondered, in an abstract part of her mind, if maybe she should have done this someplace else. Giles wasn’t going to appreciate what she did – and was about to do – to his carpet. Then again, once she returned with Buffy, he’d probably be so happy over her success it wouldn’t matter. 

Trying to calm herself, from both the anger that pumped through her and the anticipation of bringing Buffy back, Willow breathed deeply. The scented herbs that she spread around the circles were pleasing to the nose as well as important to the spell. It wasn’t working.

“Damn him,” she muttered. “Always going on about love and devotion and what happened? First sign of trouble and he left. And sure, probably for the best in the long run, two different worlds and all.” She turned back to the kitchen island and mixed the next ingredients. Lavender for home, ladybugs for friendship, and the root of an ash tree for stability – had to have a magickal anchor. 

“But that’s not the point. If it was supposed to be forever, then why wasn’t it? If all that drivel about always was supposed to be true, then what happened? Wasn’t that the whole point of those poets and songwriters?” Willow stopped her mutterings; not because she was talking to herself, but because she suddenly realized something and she didn’t like it. She wasn’t sure if she was talking about Buffy and Angel…or her and Oz. 

“Bastard,” she snarled, teeth bared in anger and remembered pain. Her eyes flashed black, though she did not know that. A surge of magickal anger rose hot and fast within her, and Willow’s fists clenched on the counter, her teeth grinding together. Breathing deeply, once more trying to calm herself, Willow focused on Elizabeth. “I don’t like her,” she told the empty condo.  

“She’s not my Buffy.” The fact that she never gave Elizabeth a chance meant very little to Willow. “Different worlds, whatever. I’m sure I was in that world,” Willow continued, her anger over the whole thing unabated in the weeks since Elizabeth appeared in town. “Bitch just never bothered to find me.” 

Actually, she’d never asked Elizabeth. Never had a conversation with her, and never cared enough to want to know. If she’d have asked Anya – shudder at the thought – Cordelia – over her dead and burned corpse – or Tara – the traitor – then Willow would have learned just what happened in that world. The fact that after Angelus and his Queen – not Buffy, Willow refused to believe that – disappeared, many of their followers rampaged through Europe. Grief and anger spurning their murderous streaks. 

Her ancestors, and Xander’s, too, were probably killed before they could even make it to America. And if they did make it, too much was changed for their worlds to be the same. Similar, yes, but not exactly the same. 

Willow didn’t care. Soon enough Buffy would be back, soon enough it wouldn’t matter. Soon enough she could send that bitch Elizabeth back to where she came from. 

All she needed now was to wait for the rising moon, and she could perform the spell. Willow would have felt better if Xander was there, but her childhood friend had wandered off in a fit of despair when Anya had gone to visit Cordelia at the mansion. Apparently, the two had formed some sort of bond when everyone else was trying to get Buffy back. 

Watching the sun set, a beautiful display of colors, Willow waited impatiently for the moon to rise. She forced herself to calm and go over the words to the spell once more. ‘Find the one who is lost to me; guide me to her, she who is lost. Let me, her closest friend, bring her back, here, where she belongs. As a true friend, let me bring her back to those who love her above all else, those who need her. Let me bring her back to those who are her family.’ 

Willow smiled, feeling confident and ready for whatever came next. She could bring Buffy back; her friend didn't belong in that world. She belonged here, with them. Finally, the moon rose, bright and beckoning. Standing in one of the circles, Willow began. The second circle was for Buffy, so that she had a place to anchor her once she returned to where she belonged. 

Willow chanted the words, felt their power flow through her, felt so much. It was exhilarating, this feeling. She threw her head back, the words coming stronger now. Her hands raised up, in supplication or command, Willow didn’t know. Didn’t care. This was as it was supposed to be. The power, the strength, the…it was hers. All hers. 

Words, foreign and not her own, echoed around the room, lending power to what she already felt. Not since resorting Angel’s soul had she felt such energy, such intensity. It was great. And addicting. Willow wanted more. 

Wind rushed around her, fast and furious, stronger than anything she’d ever felt. More than hurricane force winds, though Willow had never experienced a hurricane before. Around and around until Willow couldn’t tell which way was which and what was what and it was all too much and she couldn’t catch her breath because the wind was so strong and goddess protect her, help her compete her mission, help her find Buffy! 

“Buffy!” Someone screamed was it her? Willow didn’t know, but the voice was familiar, so probably. It sounded…she forced her eyes to open. 

There, right before her, was her friend. Buffy was dressed in long skirts, much like what she wore during the costume party so many weeks ago. Her hair was longer, though Willow wasn’t sure why she noticed something like that. Piled high on her head, neck bared, she looked regal and otherworldly as she stood in the pool of lamplight. Relief flooded through Willow, then unashamed pride. 

She knew she could do it. 

“Buffy!” She called, stepping towards her friend on shaky legs. She’d rest later. Once the spell wore off – which was soon. Once she and Buffy were back home, once she had her friend safe with her. Then Willow would rest. 

Buffy turned, looked at Willow in astonishment and then recognition. She took a step forward, unbelieving. “Willow?” 

“Yes,” Willow nodded frantically. She was so relieved at having found Buffy that she didn't bother with anything else. She didn’t look around her, didn’t pause to see where they were, who was there. “Buffy,” Willow said quickly striding towards her friend, hand outstretched. “We have to leave. I don’t have much time and then you’ll be stuck here.” 

“Willow,” Buffy began but then she felt it. Once Willow touched her, once her friend’s hand clasped her own, Buffy felt it. The tugging that was familiar and terrifying and never, never did Buffy want to experience that again. It was the same tugging that had brought her here. Now, she was deathly afraid that it was the same tugging that was going to force her to leave here. 

“No, Willow-” But she friend never gave her the chance to finish. Suddenly, Willow was chanting and the world was fading quickly. Buffy could barely see what was around her, it was mist and fog and it weighed heavily on her. It hurt, yet it was weightless. It was everything and yet Buffy knew it was nothing. 

She didn’t want to go, didn’t want to leave. She’d promised she wouldn’t, promised to always stay with him and now Willow wasn’t giving her the choice. Was taking that choice away from her because…damn it, Buffy knew why. Because Willow couldn’t let anything drop. 

It was the reason she found out about slaying in the first place and it was the reason she put her life in danger by staying in Sunnydale. It was the reason Buffy loved her and on the other hand, it was the reason Buffy hated it. Not Willow, but the choices she forced by doing what she did. 

This wasn’t her choice and Buffy was damned if she was leaving without a fight. 

“ANGELUS!” She screamed, once, before she couldn’t. Couldn’t move, couldn’t talk, couldn’t think. 

Angelus watched his love slowly disappear from him, fading from the street as the mist faded with the dawn. He screamed, a cry of loss, and lunged for her. “Buffy,” he shouted, panicked. 

Drusilla and William were suddenly beside him. And Richter, Buffy’s most trusted bodyguard. “Guard the goal,” Angelus instructed Richter as his hand clasped Buffy’s outstretched one, as he grasped his Mate. Drusilla, crying as she grabbed his arm, held William to her. If one was going back, they all were. 

And may heaven and hell help those who tried to separate Angelus from his Mate. 

“We’ll be back.” He told Richter, golden eyes locking with the younger vampire’s. Richter was strong, he was capable, and he was devoted. He’d hold everything together until they returned. 

With that, they were gone. And Richter was left to hold the factions together without their King and Queen. Somehow, he was sure they weren’t going to listen to him as they did his mistress. Didn’t matter, he’d do as his King instructed and he’d make sure that non knew they were gone until it was inevitable. 

And then he’d keep their memory – and their legacy – alive. 

Nothing. 

Blackness. 

Power. Screaming power that ripped and mended and wanted more and was more. 

Slowly the screaming stopped. Slowly, the wind lessened and slowly it calmed. Slowly Willow realized that she’d lived through whatever the hell had just happened. And slowly, she remembered that she’d been successful. 

Willow opened her eyes and looked around, noting her position in the circle, now burnt into the carpet. She was back in Giles’ living room, and it was his carpet that now held a burnt salt circle. He was going to kill her. 

And she was alone. What? She was alone, there was no Buffy, there was no sign of her friend. The second circle was gone, burnt away just as it was supposed to be, just like Willow’s. 

But Buffy wasn’t there.

Part 25        Part 27

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