Gods Served and Abandoned by Antigone Unbound

Part 31

"Let's order Chinese--I'm in the mood for pepper steak." Xander's voice was never so decisive as when he was selecting his food.

"Sounds good to me," Buffy replied easily. Tara thought that it had probably been several weeks since the Slayer had sounded so upbeat.

She actually thinks we can win. This is the first time she's truly believed we could all make it through this. Tara was stunned to register the full extent of Buffy's previous despair.

"Hey, Dawn--whatcha want?" Xander asked cheerfully.

"Oh...Um, how about some beef lo mein?" Her voice, to Tara's ears, seemed to be straining for nonchalance. Dawn had sat down as they dragged Binky back to his temporary lodging, but now she stood abruptly.

"I think I need a bathroom break," she announced, heading toward the stairs.

Tara caught Willow's eyes; by unspoken accord, they rose and followed Dawn out of the room. "Great minds think alike," Willow said by way of explanation, after giving Xander their order.

*****

Upstairs, they watched Dawn walk past the bathroom and step out onto a small balcony that overlooked the street below.

"Do you think Tanya's 'Anything Short of Self-Immolation is Selfish' speech got to her?" Willow asked reluctantly.

"How could it not?" Tara replied, grimacing. "I mean, I totally get where she was coming from--I do. But if I were Dawn, and I heard that argument, stated that flatly, I know I'd be struggling."

"Yeah...me too." Willow nodded. She sighed heavily. "Remind me again why we're pursuing such a fun hobby?"

Tara managed a grin. "Because the post-disaster-aversion sex is so incredible."

"Well, there is that..." Willow leaned forward and kissed her quickly. "OK, let's see if we can calm her down a little."

Dawn, though, wasn't crying; and she wasn't kicking things or complaining about her lot. She only glanced at them wordlessly as they joined her.

"Dawnie--are you OK?" Tara asked gently.

The teenager just gazed back at her, her eyes dark with sadness. Finally, she said, "She's right."

"Who?" Willow asked.

Sweetie--we know who...

"Tanya--what she said, about Ben. She's right. He should take himself out of the equation. Anybody in that position should, if they're really serious about wanting to do the right thing."

"And you think you're in that position," Tara replied simply.

"I am in that position," Dawn said flatly. "If Glory doesn't get the Key, she can't start the ritual. If she does get the Key, everyone either dies or wishes they would. I have the power to make sure she never gets it. How can I not?"

Tara wanted to argue with her, refute her logic--but she couldn't. Dawn was right: it was within her capacity to make sure that Glory never opened the gates of her Hell and every other dimension. Wouldn't she be thinking the same thing if she were the Key?

"Dawn, you can't really think that you should..." Tara couldn't even say the words.

"Kill myself?" Dawn finished hollowly. "Yeah--I think I should. But I don't want to and I'm afraid I won't have the guts to."

"Of course you don't want to," Willow said urgently. "You heard what the little scab said: if Glory doesn't succeed, you get to live your life. There's so much ahead of you, Dawnie, and I think we can beat her."

"But that's not the point," Dawn broke in, her voice cracking. "If I really want to be the person I say I want to be, I won't take that chance; I won't let it get that far. There won't be an epic battle because I'll take away what Glory's fighting for." She broke off, struggling to regain some composure. "I wanna be brave--but if I were really brave, I wouldn't be standing here talking about it; I'd be doing it." She shook her head, and when she looked back at them, pain was etched across her features.

"I've always felt so boring--the Slayer's younger sister; always tagging along even though I knew Buffy didn't want me there, just because I was so desperate to be a part of something big, something special. And then I learn that I am, and all I want is to be that annoying kid again. But I'm not. I'm the key to something awful." A small, miserable grin edged across her face. "It's one thing to spill Diet Coke on your sister's keyboard; it's another to know that you could bring misery to every living creature in every dimension."

Dawn seemed beyond their reach. It was as if she had reached a decision that seemed patently horrific, and yet her logic was damnably sound.

Tara exchanged a despairing glance with Willow. What could they say that wouldn't sound trite or worse?

"The monks should have destroyed me when they had the chance," Dawn muttered dully.

Tara looked up sharply at the words, gazing at the teen for a moment. "But they didn't."

"No, they didn't," Dawn replied with a sigh. "They put me in human form and sent me to somebody who had to look out for me. They put everybody I care about in danger."

"So why would they do that?" Tara continued. "If the Key is nothing but a danger, nothing but bad, why wouldn't they destroy it? Dawn, I have a lot of problems with the monks' playing God and Goddess, but I don't think they're stupid. There's some reason that you were made human, and I don't think it was just to jerk everybody around."

"I'm with Tara," Willow said, nodding. "The monks went to so much trouble to transform the Key into human form, even though they knew the potential danger. Why?" She leaned forward suddenly, her voice urgent. "Maybe the Key has potential for incredible good, Dawnie."

The teenager looked at her skeptically. "Like what?"

Willow shrugged. "A cure for cancer; the end to world hunger...Maybe the Key unlocks the secret to thinner thighs. I don't know, but I do know that the monks chose to alter the Key, not destroy it; and I don't think that was by accident."

Dawn, though, seemed unwilling to let herself feel even a glimmer of hope; as if doing so would destroy any measure of resolve that she had forced herself to summon.

"You're just saying that," she whispered, shaking her head. "You're just trying to make me feel better."

"No, Sweetie, that's not it," Tara argued. "I mean, yeah--at first I guess I was trying to say anything to help, but then you mentioned the monks and it really made me think. Dawn, they're guilty of a lot of things, but I really don't think idiocy is one of them."

Dawn's expression was equal parts despair and nascent hope. She closed her eyes and clenched the railing of the balcony. "I wanna believe you," she whispered. "And that's what scares me--I'm afraid I'll believe you because I want to so bad, and then I won't do what I should."

"Dawn, please--look at me," Tara beseeched her. "Sweetie, if there is a chance we're right, don't you also owe it to us--to everyone--to try to survive? Try to have the life that's waiting for you after we defeat Glory?"

Dawn was silent for so long that Tara began to wonder if she wanted to be left alone. Finally, though, she squared her shoulders and gazed at them, her expression unreadable.

"OK--for now, I don't do anything. But I need you guys to promise me something."

"Anything, Dawnie," Willow replied quickly. Tara, though, felt a curious dread stealing over her.

"If it comes to it...If Glory captures me, and starts the ritual..." She paused, and Tara could see that she was biting her lip so hard that she was afraid she might break the skin. "If that happens, and I have the chance to--to do it...Promise me you won't try to stop me."

Tara felt her stomach lurch. "Dawn, Sweetie--you can't ask us to sit back and watch you take your own life," she whispered.

"Please," Dawn begged, her voice cracking. "If it comes to that, I need to know you guys will help me do the right thing; and it is the right thing. Both of you would do it, I know it. If I could stop her--keep the people I love from going through whatever she'd do...then at least it would mean something."

Willow was leaning forward as if to interrupt, but Tara squeezed her hand tightly. Whatever Dawn needed to tell them, it was costing her dearly to say it. She deserved to be heard out.

"You guys have been more important to me than anybody besides Buffy and Mom," she continued. She shrugged and gave a tiny smile. "You're my heroes. Willow, I've watched you risk your life for over five years; and Tara, I saw you go home and stand up to your family and deal with news that would drop anybody else. And now maybe it's my turn to do the right thing, and I wanna have the courage to do it."

She had finally let the tears come, a fact which Tara registered through her own blurred vision.

"I need to know that if it comes to that, you guys will help me be strong; be the kind of person you could be proud of..." She drew a long, shuddering breath. "The kind of person I could be proud of."

Tara had suspected the nature of Dawn's request the moment she started speaking. She had wanted to argue with her, reassure her that the whole scenario would never come to pass. Now, though, she realized that they owed Dawn more than false promises that the teenager would never believe anyway. She looked at Willow; the sadness on her beloved's face, she suspected, mirrored her own.

Tara hadn't known she would be able to speak until she heard her own voice saying, "We promise."

*****

They waited a long time before going downstairs, washing their faces in an attempt to mask the evidence of their shared anguish. Dawn had extracted one last promise from them both: they wouldn't tell Buffy of the conversation.

When they reached the living room, the others were just starting to sort through a large delivery from Tommy Wong's. By way of explanation, Willow said simply, "Girl talk."

The quick narrowing of Buffy's eyes told Tara that the Slayer didn't entirely believe them; but she apparently wasn't going to challenge them at this exact moment.

After a period of relative silence in which everyone settled into his or her particular meal, Giles rested his chopsticks against the carton.

"So...We have established some of the parameters of Glory's plans, as well as the constraints thereon. We also understand, albeit through the aid of visual reminders, the nature of Glory's connection to Ben. How do we proceed from this point?"

"Well, I say Plan A is that we keep Glory from getting the Key until her opportunity passes. Plan B, a distant second, is that if she does find the Key, we keep her occupied through the miracle of modern combat so that she can't start the ritual."

An uncomfortable silence ensued at this thought. Tara was unable to look at anyone but Willow. After a moment, Buffy added, "Plan B is rhetorical, though, because Glory won't get the Key." Tara leaned into the warmth of Willow's hand resting on her back.

"OK, so I know this is a delicate subject, but do we really consider killing Ben?" Xander asked reluctantly.

Giles sighed. "While it's certainly difficult to imagine, it might come to that. As loathe as I am to say this, if we have no other choice, I am willing to sacrifice Ben for the good of so many others."

Buffy sighed. "I just wish he would come to us, work with us. He has to know we're involved, especially after yesterday's recon and rescue mission."

"He's probably scared out of his pants...and I mean that quite literally," Bev commented. "Can you imagine having a Hell God really pissed at you?"

"But apparently she's in his body, at least some of the time," Anya protested, looking at her index card. "What's she gonna do--bitch-slap herself into keeping quiet?"

"I could help," Tanya muttered. Tara realized that she was least likely of any of them to cut Ben any slack. He'd had the chance to help Beverly, and he'd bailed. The odds of her forgiving him for that were roughly equivalent to those of Anya becoming a nun.

Anya in a wimple...I'd pay full admission for that.

"So killing Ben comes in at third," Xander said decisively. "We definitely don't want to, but we will if it's the only way."

"You know, it's great that we found out what we did," Willow commented suddenly. "But we need to know when the ritual's scheduled to happen. We can't just hang around wondering if we're five minutes away from an apocalypse."

"Yeah, because we've never been in that position before," Anya interjected dryly.

"Well of course we need to know when the ritual will occur," Buffy said indignantly. "Only an idiot would have one of Glory's minions and not ask that question."

"Think he'll tell?" Xander asked.

"He will if my little shrinking violet over here so much as sneezes in his direction," Bev opined.

"I was just doing my Mother Teresa impersonation," Tanya said blithely. At the perplexed expressions around her, she added, "I didn't say it was a good impersonation."

"OK--let's drag the little wretch back out here," Buffy requested, and Giles rose to do so. Sighing, she added, "God, I hate toadies."

"When exactly have you dealt with toadies?" Xander asked, puzzled.

"It's a matter of principle," she replied, shrugging. "Like hating the kid who always got to clean the erasers after class."

"I was that kid," Willow muttered, to Buffy's profound chagrin.

"Will, Sweetie, you're not in the least toad-like," Tara reassured her. "From pictures I've seen, I'd put you in the 'adorable puppy' family when you were a kid."

Giles returned, Binky in tow, and plunked the minion back into the desk chair, securing him tightly. Tara noticed that his earlier bravado seemed to have been replaced by a quiet sniveling.

"We need to know when the ritual's going to take place," Buffy demanded without preamble.

"I do not know," came the immediate response.

Buffy peered at him like a jack-o'lantern-in-waiting. "Tanya--whaddya think? A finger or an ear?"

Binky practically squealed. "No, please! I am telling you the truth! Only Glorificus and the high priests know...It is a most jealously guarded secret, in order that none may imperil it."

"You mean she doesn't trust you," Giles amended dryly. "Imagine that."

Though it was difficult to be sure given Binky's dermal issues, Tara could have sworn that he was blushing.

"The ritual is of the most sacred, delicate nature," Binky spluttered. "I think--I think Glory is wise to preserve its secrecy."

"You mean she doesn't trust you," Giles repeated. Sighing, he turned to Buffy. His expression said, "Now what?"

"You don't know anything?" Willow asked incredulously. "You spend 24/7 around the girl, doing her bidding and licking her boots, and you don't know the first thing about the ritual? God--what kind of minion are you? Glory must have some pretty low hiring standards."

Binky was deeply offended. "I know all that any of my kind know, and often more," he huffed. "Does Jinx know even the riddle? No, he does not?"

"Riddle? There's a riddle?" Now it was Willow's turn to squeal. "I love riddles!"

Tara could see that Binky regretted his vanity-based disclosure. "And just how does this riddle go?" she asked sweetly.

"I...I cannot tell you. Glorificus will inflict far greater pain on me than even you would," he cried.

"Yes, but if you don't tell us, we'll call Glory on Ben's cell phone and inform her of what you've already divulged," Giles answered easily, as if he were explaining to Binky exactly why he couldn't hold his breath until he died. "If you do help us, we can offer you protection."

"But I don't want to leave the service of the great Glorificus," Binky practically wept. "It is all that I have ever known; all that I could hope to know." He shook his head in despair. "Better that I should die now, and preserve some small shred of honor, than betray Her Most Intriguingly Unbalanced One."

"We'll give you some sweet and sour pork," Xander offered.

Binky's head popped up, his eyes wide. "Might there be an egg-roll with that?" he asked after the briefest of hesitations.

"We could probably make that happen," Buffy nodded slowly.

"I have seen the great Glorificus dining on such wondrous things many, many times," Binky murmured, almost to himself. "Always, I have yearned to know their taste..." He shook his head. "But Glory left for us only the dross of human consumption...Such things as would repel most sane mortals."

"You don't mean..." Beverly said, edging back with horror.

"Chicken McNuggets," he whispered.

The group, save Xander, recoiled as one. "What?" he demanded. "They're chock-full of crunchy goodness!"

Tara heard Anya mutter, "You're not kissing me on the lips for the next three months."

"So...the minion wants some Chinese take-out," Buffy murmured enticingly. "Spill, Binkster, and the pork's yours. We decide you're not lying, the egg roll comes after that."

Binky wavered for only a moment, then nodded almost eagerly. "I will give you the prophecy's words. Though I doubt very much they will mean more to you than to me," he added with a trace of his earlier insouciance.

"My dear chap, it's just a tad late for defiance," Giles sighed. "Especially since you're practically drooling at the thought of an egg roll."

"Fine," Binky muttered sullenly.

"So...what's this big prophecy riddle?" Buffy demanded.

Binky shifted in his seat, then intoned: "That day shall commence with weeping; and it will end with weeping. Tears without sorrow will fall as alpha and omega. And when the weeping is no more, then shall the Unholy One open the portal to Hell. So may she until love's eye falls upon her and will not be hidden."

The deflated sycophant finished his recitation and sagged back against the chair. A long silence fell over the group, broken finally by Bev's succinct, "Well, that's a pisser."

*****

Part 32

Giles led a defeated but well-fed minion back to his temporary abode. When he returned, the group was sitting in frustration, mulling over the prophecy.

"What kind of riddle was that?" Willow scowled. "No numbers; no algorithms that I could find...It was all just--just words."

"Imagine that," Beverly commented dryly. "Do such things even exist anymore?"

"All I'm saying is that I do better with graphs than grammar," Willow said, chastened. "I didn't say it was normal." Turning to Giles, she asked, "Does this sound like anything you've heard of before?"

The Watcher sighed. "Unfortunately, no. We'll look through all of our resources, of course, but I've not encountered this prophecy before, nor any like it."

"So the day of the ritual will start with weeping, and end with weeping," Beverly mused. "Sounds like an episode of 'Dawson's Creek.'"

"Yeah, but it's not sad weeping," Buffy pointed out. "Remember: 'Tears without sorrow.'"

"So maybe they're tears of joy," Tara suggested.

"Given the way things have been going lately, we should be pretty safe," Xander observed with a sigh. "When was the last time any of us wept with happiness?"

"Actually, I kinda thought you were going to the other night, when I finally agreed to dress up as -"

Anya's reminiscence was cut short by a chorus of not-quite-desperate voices. Giles stood decisively, reaching into his pocket. He walked over to Anya and held out a twenty dollar bill.

"What's this for?" she asked, delighted.

"Consider this a safety deposit against your ever finishing that sentence," the Watcher replied coolly. "There's another twenty in it for you if you make it through the ritual's date without doing so." Turning back to the grateful group, he continued, "Tara's hypothesis seems reasonable: if the tears aren't caused by sorrow, it would be only logical to assume that they're caused by joy . At the same time, Xander's point is also well-taken: there have hardly been many causes for celebration of late."

A pained silence fell over the group, the memory of Joyce's death filling the room with a sudden pall. Willow looked over at Dawn, but the teenager was staring at the floor.

"But it doesn't necessarily refer to our tears," Willow pointed out after a moment. "I mean, there's all sorts of goings-on, right here in River City-people getting married, having children...Just because we're always picking up the more sinister cable channels, that doesn't mean everybody else is."

"But all day?" Tanya asked, skepticism evident in her voice and her expression. "I mean, I've had some pretty happy days, but I've never come close to crying with joy from sun-up to sundown."

"Even when I sang 'You Light Up My Life' on karaoke that night at Viva Tequila's?" Beverly asked, clearly wounded.

"Oh, I felt like crying, Baby-tears with sorrow were running down my face and every other face in the bar," Tanya replied, squinting at the memory. Beverly gave a sniff of faux-indignation and turned back to the others.

"Girlfriend's got a point," she shrugged. "Even if somebody reaches a state of pure, unadulterated uber-happiness, they're probably not gonna cry all day."

"What about mental patients?" Willow asked suddenly. "Glory literally feeds on people's minds-could she leave them in a state of delirium? I mean, joyful delirium?"

"That's an intriguing thought," Giles mused. "We've had only limited information on what Glory's victims actually feel. We've assumed it to be a state of mental torture, but we have no irrefutable proof of that."

"Yeah, because brain-sucking...who wouldn't get all misty eyed and nostalgic about that?" Xander asked sardonically, arching one eyebrow.

"But we don't know for sure," Willow persisted. She felt desperate for some kind of clue, a decoder ring with which to approach this question.

"OK, so let's leave that as a definite possibility," Buffy interjected. "What about this 'love's eye' thing?"

"Maybe it means that when someone looks on her with love, the opportunity passes," Tara suggested.

"I dunno," Buffy replied slowly, shaking her head. "I mean, that would be all very eleventh-hour redemption, tearful resolution-y, but it's hard to see it working here."

"And anyway, who's gonna volunteer for that duty?" Xander asked. "Plus, it would have to be real to work, right? So double my previous estimation of unlikelihood."

"Do you think Glory can even recognize love?" Beverly asked. "I sorta got the opinion she considered love a weakness--so very mortal and all that."

"Binky said that Glory could open the portal to Hell until love's eye looked upon her and won't be hidden," Willow mused. "Not that it can't be hidden; it won't."

"So we're talking about something both very powerful, and willingly accepted," Buffy nodded.

"Which the best love is," Tara pointed out, stealing a quick glance at Willow.

And we should know, Baby.

"Yes, but that brings us back to the issue of someone looking upon Glory with genuine love, and her accepting that love," Giles reminded her. "Two facts which seems patently unlikely."

"What about God?" Xander interjected abruptly. "Or a god...you know, a good one?"

"Good God?" Buffy asked, brow furrowed with confusion.

"A good god," Xander clarified. "Or God-the one that most of us in this room grew up hearing about and possibly believing in."

"The Judeo-Christian deity," Giles murmured reflectively.

"Right," Xander nodded. "That God, or any god who's more likely to be nice than nasty. I mean, if there are Hell Gods, shouldn't there also be Heaven Gods?"

"That would be a welcome piece of interdimensional news," Tanya interjected decisively. "I wouldn't mind a little other-worldly assistance with this one."

"OK, if that's true, it would mean that Glory could complete the ritual until this god of love looks on her and neither she nor the god will look away or be hidden," Buffy mused. "I like the emotional backdrop-very "Love Conquers All"-but from a tactical stand-point, it feels pretty risky. I mean, what would we do? Sit there and hope God glances our way and notices what's going down?"

"But God-any god-is assumed to be omniscient," Giles pointed out. "In which case, He or She would already know of Glory's actions."

"Which begs the question: what would make the god intervene then, if It hasn't done so before?" Beverly asked.

"Checking our mettle?" Willow asked tentatively.

"If God-any god-needs more evidence of our mettle, I give up," Buffy exclaimed, throwing up her hands. "We've offered a veritable kettle of mettle over the last five years. I for one believe that our mettle represents the Gold Standard in both quality and durability."

"Hear, hear," Xander agreed, nodding.

"The frustrating thing is that this is all speculation," Tara commented. "I mean, we can come up with all sorts of theories but unless we have something to go on, that's all they are."

"I agree," Giles murmured, taking a small sip of tea. "The only thing we're even remotely confident about is the matter of the tears being tears of joy, not sadness-but we don't even know that for certain."

After two hours of random conjecturing and futile poring over the texts Giles had on hand, Willow glanced at her watch. "Guys, it's almost midnight. I love a good brainstorming session as much as anyone-"

"More than anyone, actually, Sweetie," Tara murmured.

"Well, that's certainly one perspective...OK, so, be that as it may, and it may be completely true, I was going to say that I don't know if we're going to come up with anything more definite tonight. I say we all get some sleep, and meet up tomorrow at the Magic Box and look over those books. Plus, maybe we'll see something we don't right now-you know, a different perspective."

"Besides, it is a school night," Beverly added.

"Exactly," Willow said, nodded emphatically.

"Willow-I was being ironic."

"Oh...right. Of course. Irony. How very ironic of you."

Nobody appreciates the great academic truths anymore...

"I suspect that Willow's right," Giles said, stifling a yawn as he did so. "Why don't you all come over to the shop tomorrow whenever you can and we'll take another crack at this."

"Are you going to be alright with him here?" Buffy asked, jerking her head toward the bathroom.

"I may not have Riley's rippling musculature, but I'm confident I can handle a vertically-challenged toady," the Watcher assured her. "Especially one who's in a food-induced stupor."

"If I ever see Riley, I'll tell him you've noticed his rippling musculature," Buffy commented, slipping into her lightweight coat. "I'm sure it'll mean a lot to him."

*****

A short while later, nestled against each other in Tara's bed, the two of them found it difficult to leave the prophecy behind.

"Do you think it could be love that redeems Glory?" Willow asked, stroking Tara's back.

"I don't know, Sweetie," Tara sighed. "I'd like to believe it, but maybe that's just wishful thinking; wanting to believe that love is greater than any other force in this dimension or any other."

"I wonder if there are dimensions that don't even have love, or what we call love," Willow murmured. She tried to imagine such a place; a world where she would look on her friends and feel nothing; a world where she would look at Tara and feel nothing. Would she have any sense at all of how empty that world was?

"Maybe there are dimensions that have an exalted kind of love; where what we feel would be magnified by ten."

Willow tightened her arms around Tara's warm back. "I think I'd burst, loving you that much more."

"Oh, but we'd all be equipped with skin or casings or shells capable of expanding to accommodate the love," Tara replied easily, planting a soft kiss on the top of Willow's head.

"Very convenient," Willow commented. After a brief silence, she asked quietly, "Can we really do it?"

Tara, as Willow had trusted, knew what she was thinking of. "Watch Dawn kill herself? I don't want to; it's almost too horrible to think about; and yes-if it comes to that, we do. We have to."

"Because we promised her," Willow said, feeling tears pricking at her eyes.

"Because we promised her, yes; and because it's the right thing to do."

"Then why does it feel so awful?"

"Will, Sweetie, I don't think it's necessarily a good idea to judge something's moral value by how good it feels. I mean, that would be nice, but it just doesn't work that way. When Buffy killed Angel, right after you had restored his soul-I can't imagine that that felt good. It probably felt excruciating and wrong, at least partly wrong. But she knew that in the larger picture, it was the right thing to do. Dawn knows that now." She paused, cupping Willow's chin in her hand and tilting her head so that they gazed at one another. "Just like you would know, if you were in her situation. Just like I would know."

Willow fought the trembling in her voice. "I tried to imagine it, when we were talking to Dawn. Baby, it hurt too much to even think about. Leaving you; ending my own life. The only way I could do it would be to focus on saving your life. Otherwise, I don't know...I don't know if the abstract knowledge of doing something right would be strong enough to make me leave you."

Tara's fingers brushed over her cheek-warm, knowing. "I don't think that's true, Willow. I think you're a lot stronger than you give yourself credit for."

Willow nuzzled back into Tara's chest. After a moment, she whispered, "It would kill Buffy. And she'd never forgive us."

"I know," Tara replied evenly. "But Sweetie, this isn't really about Buffy, is it? It's about Dawn, wanting to be brave and strong. She has the highest card in this hand, Will, if Glory realizes who she is and starts the ritual."

Willow knew she was right. The last five years had been about Buffy, first and last: her duties as a Slayer, the singular responsibilities that she faced. And Willow and Xander had signed on because it was important--a decision that Willow had occasionally questioned but never truly regretted. But this moment, this show-down...Buffy would grieve and rage and they would all pull together to help her survive it as best they could. In the final analysis, though, it really was Dawn's moment. They didn't have the right to eclipse that, disregard the most painful decision imaginable, in order to spare Buffy's feelings or even their own.

"You know, I've had a few moments where I resented being a peripheral character in the grand drama of vampire slaying," she finally sighed. "It's been easier, since you came into my life-I've realized that we have our own story, you know? But before-I definitely wanted to be center stage, at least a few times. Now, though...It just reminds me all over again how glad I am that I'm in our story, not that one."

Tara pulled her close, caressing her back with warm, strong hands. "I know, Sweetie...I know."

They fell asleep like that, finally, each of them tumbling down into a dreamscape of how this story might possibly end.

*****

Part 33

The next day, Willow struggled mightily to pay attention in her three classes. Even her 400-level physics class seemed tedious. Though they were in something of a holding pattern, at least with regard to offensive maneuvers, she couldn't shake the feeling that she and Tara should be at the Magic Box, trying to decipher the message with the others.

She pondered what they might learn. Part of her hoped that the ritual's time wouldn't come in the near future, so that they could better prepare for it. Another part wanted it to be as soon as possible, while Glory didn't know that Dawn was the Key. If it came and went, they won-didn't they?

Tara met her outside of her final class at 3:30. Beverly and Tanya were waiting for them on the street in the Protector's rental car; they would all travel to the Magic Box together. Willow was especially glad of this fact when they stepped outside into a downpour. As she slid into the back seat, wiping the rain off of her face, Tanya turned to them both with a wry grin.

"I thought it never rained in California," she said.

"Seems I've often heard that kind of talk before," Willow admitted. "Thanks for picking us up, especially considering the lovely external ambience."

"Yeah-it's been coming down all day," Beverly said, shaking her head. "And they say it won't let up until tonight. From what I remember of California meteorology-an admittedly tricky concept, I know-on the few occasions it did rain, there would be a quick storm and then-presto, chango-sunshine again. What's up with this?"

Willow turned to Tara, about to include her in the exchange. Her beloved, though, was sitting as if paralyzed, her face stricken.

"Baby? What is it?" she asked, reaching over to take Tara's hand.

Tara looked at her, a dawning fear edging over her features. "Tears without sorrow..." Her voice shook slightly. "The day will day start with weeping and end with weeping -"

"But the weeping holds no sorrow," Willow finished, her eyes widening in comprehension. They stared at each other in silence for a long moment.

In the front seat, Beverly had pulled off to the side of the road. Now she and Tanya were looking at them, stunned.

"It's rain," Tanya breathed.

Willow's eyes never left Tara. "Which means that today's the day."

*****

In Tara's opinion, the 15-minute drive to the Magic Box was fourteen and a half minutes too long.

"Do you think the others have figured it out?" Willow asked, her brow furrowed anxiously.

"From what I've seen, I'd vote 'yes' on Giles, 'maybe' on Buffy, and 'no' for the others," Tanya replied, gripping Beverly's hand on the gear shift. "And if Giles did figure it out, he couldn't tell you because none of you hip southern California kids have cell phones. Blows my mind."

Tara didn't reply; she had thought it somewhat odd herself, on more than one occasion, but had been reluctant to make an issue of it.

"Are we completely sure this is it?" Beverly asked, catching Tara's eye in the rearview mirror.

"I think so," she answered, silently willing her aunt to disregard all but the most important traffic laws. "I don't see how it can't be. The day opened with rain--tears without sorrow--and it's supposed to rain all day. That alone is so unusual in this region that it's suspicious."

"I should have figured it out sooner," Willow said angrily. "I mean, I wake up, it's raining, I comment on the rain...and then I skip off to class like Cousin Marti, cheerfully working at the Kwik-Serve after barely graduating high school."

"You have a Cousin Marti?" Tara asked softly.

"We don't talk about her much," Willow muttered out of the side of her mouth.

Moments later, the four of them tumbled out of the rental sedan and pounded on the door of the Magic Box. A large "Closed" sign was hanging crookedly in the window.

"What if he's not here?" Willow asked, looking worriedly at Tara. Within seconds, though, they heard footsteps from within and then Giles had opened the door and stood aside to let them in. A quick glance at his face told Tara that the Watcher had also solved the first part of the prophecy.

"I can't believe we didn't think of this sooner," he muttered, ushering them back to the library section of the store.

"Yeah, let's all spend lots of time beating ourselves up about that," Tanya interjected. "That always leads to good things."

"Point taken," he nodded, giving her a reluctant smile.

"When did you figure it out?" Tara asked, shrugging out of her jacket.

"Early this morning, after the second customer had remarked on the weather, right on the heels of the first customer having done so." He shook his head. "I suppose I'm still in something of an English mentality where weather is concerned--rain hardly shocks me. But then I realized that it should do so, especially rain of this kind and of this duration."

"Have you talked to Buffy?" Willow asked, taking a seat beside Tara and reaching for her hand.

"The man doesn't have me on speed dial for nothing," came the reply from behind them. Buffy was standing in the doorway to the training room; her right hand clutching a sword, her left resting on Dawn's shoulder.

She doesn't know whether to attack or defend.

"Hey Dawnie," Tara called softly. "How you doing?"

Dawn's smile carried not a speck of humor. "You know that feeling you get before the biggest, scariest things you have to do? Where you're terrified of what could happen, but you also know that it's almost over and you won't have to worry about it anymore? Multiply that times about ten."

Tara thought that the teenager looked almost nauseous. Instinctively, she held out her hand. Dawn stepped forward and took it quickly, looking at Tara with a fierce, quiet desperation.

"We'll keep you safe," Tara said simply.

Whereas Dawn looked terrified, Buffy looked as though she wanted to rip the store apart just to keep from exploding.

"So what happened?" Willow asked her best friend.

"Giles called me at about 9:15. As soon as we hung up, I went to school and picked up Dawn."

"Uh, Buffy," Willow interrupted with obvious hesitation. "Do you think that was the best thing to do? I mean, I totally get wanting to have her near you; I just wonder if it's good to--you know...have her near you."

Tara almost expected Buffy to lash out at Willow for asking; thankfully, though, the Slayer had apparently struggled with the question as well.

"I know," she replied slowly, moving into the room to take a seat next to Dawn. "Part of thought I should keep her at school, as if nothing's out of the ordinary, although the day would've passed even slower than it already has. But then I was afraid that Glory would be desperate and might kidnap her or something to try to force us to tell her who the Key is."

"Irony of ironies," Beverly commented, grinning at Dawn, who managed a slightly more credible smile in return.

"In the end, I decided to pick her up and come here. We've been hiding out ever since, basically trying to convince Time to pick up the pace a little." Buffy reached out and smoothed Dawn's long brown hair over her shoulder.

"Do Xander and Anya know?" Willow asked.

"No, not yet," Giles replied, taking a slow sip of his tea. "We actually decided to use the phone as little as possible, although I honestly don't see Glory being patient enough to master the intricacies of phone tapping."

"What about Binky?" Tara asked suddenly. "Does he know anything?"

"No, he isn't aware of this," Giles quickly assured her. "He's still in my bathroom, securely tied with only enough flexibility to graze on a waffle, smothered with syrup and eaten with his fingers. Honestly, the little wretch made the most appalling noises..."

"And there's been no sign of Glory?" Beverly asked.

"Nothing," Giles shook his head. "I closed the store, because I thought it might throw her off if she thought we weren't around. So far, it's been just the three of us and now you."

"I'm glad you're here," Dawn murmured, looking at Tara. "Makes me feel safer."

"Even though I'm not much in the fight department?" Tara asked with a small grin.

"We'll let Buffy take care of the butch stuff," Dawn replied, nodding at her sister. "You're in charge of the more subtle things."

"As frightening as all of this is," Giles was saying, "I really do think we're in a very good position. It's almost four o'clock, and Glory is no closer to the Key's identity than she was two weeks ago."

"OK, so do we have any ideas about when the window of opportunity closes?" Beverly asked, glancing around the room.

"We now know that the day of the ritual will start with rain and end with rain. From what I surmised, Glory can conduct the ritual during any part of this day, until love's eye looks upon her."

"We still don't know what 'love's eye' refers to, though," Willow said in frustration.

"But all we have to do is keep her away from the Key for the rest of the day, right?" Tanya asked.

"I dunno...That's way too vague for me," Buffy replied, shaking her head. "I wanna know what the second part means, so when I finally exhale, I'm not looking over my shoulder."

"I agree," Giles murmured. "The more precisely we can ascertain the ritual's closing, the more confident we can be in our plans." He waved loosely at the pile of old books scattered about the room. "I've been researching all day, but to no avail."

"Well, we were all thinking in terms of emotional metaphors before," Tara pointed out, "and it turns out we were way off base there. I think we need to be very careful about our assumptions this time."

"Indeed," Giles nodded. "Love, and love's eye, may have nothing at all to do with the emotion of love."

"Above all," Buffy interjected, "we keep the Key as far away from Glory as possible. That's our main objective, right?"

The nods of assent that greeted this assertion were cut short by a harsh clanging as the shop door was slammed back against the wall.

"OK, I am sick of this!" Glory's voice was equal parts fury and petulance.

For Tara, the next ten minutes passed in a second, even as a part of her watched events unfold in slow motion from a great distance.

"I've tried bargaining; I've tried cajoling; I've tried everything except a wrist corsage and candy," the hell god continued. "But patience has never been one of my virtues--heck, I don't even know what my virtues are--and we need to get this show on the road."

"You mean, your time's running out, don't you?" Beverly asked, stepping forward.

Glory recoiled almost instinctively. "You...God, I've had enough of you to last a lifetime, which, considering I'm a god, is really saying something." Her voice was thick with loathing.

"Now that hurts, Glo," Beverly said, shaking her head. "I thought we were really connecting, there at the end. I mean, the brutalization definitely brought up some trust issues, but I think we could've worked through those."

"Get out of my way," Glory practically hissed, although Tara noticed that she maintained a healthy distance from the Protector.

"What are you even doing here, Glo?" Beverly asked. "Shouldn't you be out canvassing the city? If I'm not mistaken, there is something of a time crunch here." And then, with seemingly utter nonchalance, she began to whistle the theme song from 'Jeopardy.'

Glory's eyes narrowed to slits. "How do you know about that?"

Giles stepped forward, though he remained behind Beverly. "We mortals aren't quite as provincial as you think we are," he murmured. "We've been tying our own shoelaces for centuries now."

Glory clenched her fists in impotent rage. She glanced around desperately, as if trying to figure out a way to get past Beverly. She was accompanied by six of her minions, but it was clear that she had little faith in their fighting ability.

"Give me my Key," she shouted, grabbing a flask from one of the shelves and hurling it against the far wall. The smell of lavender filled the room.

"That's a really nice scent, Giles," Beverly commented, turning to the Watcher with a nod. "Remind me to buy some of that before we head home."

"Consider it my treat," he replied, giving a courtly half-bow.

"Give me my Key or I bring this whole place down on top of you." Another bottle crashed onto the floor.

"First of all, I really must insist on some recompense for this mess," Giles said evenly. "In the words of American consumerism, 'You break it, you bought it.' And with regard to your threat, my dear woman, that's simply not a compelling argument. If you do locate and use the Key, we all die anyway. It's very much six of one, a half-dozen of another, don't you think?"

Glory pulled herself up short from her ranting, and turned to look at them. Her gaze lingered on each person in turn, and when she spoke, her voice was practically a purr. "But it doesn't have to be like that," she murmured. "If you help me get home, I could make sure that all of you live happily ever after. I refer you to my earlier comment regarding eternal life," she added.

"Is that true?" Tara started at the sound of Dawn's voice beside her. "If we give you the Key, you'll keep--you'll keep us safe?"

"Dawn, no!" Buffy almost shouted. "Don't believe it, not for an instant."

"But of course I'll keep my promise," Glory insisted, looking wounded at the slight. "It's such a small price to pay for such a huge favor."

Tara watched in desperation. Her heart was pounding so loudly in her ears that she suspected she wouldn't be able to hear Dawn say, "It's me." She fully expected Buffy to clap her hand over Dawn's mouth.

The Slayer obliged her by doing so. "Dawn, I can't let you sacrifice an innocent," Buffy hissed. "Especially not for a promise that this bimbo will never keep." Dawn struggled against Buffy's restraint, but clearly had no chance of succeeding.

"Oh, well...guess we'll just have to do this the hard way," Glory said airily, and Tara thought she saw the Hell god glance toward the back of the room.

Following her gaze, Tara turned to see a short, robed figure standing in the doorway of the training room. He had gained entrance through the back door, and now looked at his master adoringly.

"For you, Glorificus," he said softly, and then raised his cross-bow and fired.

Tara had instinctively leaned forward to shield Willow, but her beloved was not the target. She heard the bolt whiz past her, and looked up to see her aunt staring wide-eyed at Tanya.

"I'm sorry, Baby," she whispered.

Tara knew that Tanya had screamed; she had seen her open her mouth as she dropped to her knees to pull Beverly close to her. But Tara hadn't heard a sound; all noise had ceased, just for a moment, as she took in the sight of her aunt lying crumpled and bleeding on the Magic Box floor.

And then chaos erupted, as Glory threw back her head and laughed with delight.

"Oh my Hell God, I feel like a brand new woman!" she cried, clapping her hands. She strode toward the group, gathered around the table in a tight knot except for Tanya, who was desperately trying to stem the flow of blood pouring from Beverly's wound.

Fury...it was fury that she was feeling, and she had never felt the likes of it before.

"Incendiere," she cried, only dimly aware that she was saying the word.

But Glory wasn't even singed by the orb of flame that Tara had hurled at her. Smiling, she deflected it with a flick of her wrist. "Ooh--look who's gone all vigilante!" she laughed.

When Beverly had been shot, Buffy had released Dawn and now stood in front of her. Tara watched as Dawn tore her eyes from Beverly's inert figure, looking back at Glory with hatred in her eyes.

"You bitch," she cried, taking a step toward Glory. "You want your Key, come and get it!"

"Dawn, no!" Willow shouted in desperation.

"Out of my way, little girl," Glory said dismissively. With the barest nod of her head, she sent Dawn flying up against a counter. Tara heard the glass crack under her weight.

"OK, Slayer--let's cut to the chase. One more time: where's my Key?"

Tara's mouth had gone dry; even if she had known what to say, she couldn't have said it. Buffy stood dumbly in front of Glory, then glanced toward the door leading into the training room.

"Think you can outrun me, Blondie? I'll be standing in front of you before you're half-way there."

"Oh most magnificent One," cried the minion who had shot Beverly.

"You'll get your reward later," she cut him off, barely sparing him a glance.

"But you must look--"

"Not now, you greedy little skank!"

"Glorificus, the sister!" he finally shouted. "Look upon her!"

Glory paused, just the barest moment, and then turned slowly to see what everyone else had already seen: Dawn was cut, badly, and her blood was spilling out onto the counter. As it pooled, a bright crimson, a faint glow began to emanate from it, hovering slightly above the counter. As they watched, it shimmered and turned from red to a deep, cobalt blue; and then it changed, once more, into a glittering, emerald green.

Dawn's eyes were wide with terror. Tara thought that her own heart would surely crack open with her dread.

"My, oh my, oh my," Glory whispered. "Little sister's not as old as she looks, is she?"

With a harsh cry, Buffy launched herself at Glory, who threw her off with seeming ease. "Protect her!" the Slayer called out, but the others had already rushed toward Dawn.

"No!" Glory shouted. "It ends here!" With the barest wave of her hand, they all went flying away from Dawn, crashing into the walls.

Tara's head was ringing; she could barely make out Glory seizing Dawn by the wrist and pulling her toward the door. She watched as Buffy hurled herself once more at the Hell god, who if anything seemed amused by her efforts.

"Nice try, Slayer," she laughed, gripping Buffy by the throat and lifting her off of the ground. She smiled sweetly.

"Dawnie won't be home for dinner." And then she threw the Slayer against the wall and was gone.

*****

Part 34

Glory was gone, the door banging closed behind her as she triumphantly dragged Dawn out of the Magic Box. But it wasn't Buffy that Willow was looking at; it was Tara, half-dragging herself over to her aunt. Willow was at her side in an instant.

"It's bad," Tara whispered, and Willow wasn't sure if she was talking to herself, to Willow, or to all the gods and goddesses in a desperate entreaty.

Looking at the pale form protectively enfolded in Tanya's arms, Willow saw that Tara was right. Beverly had turned at the sound of the shooter's voice, and the bolt had entered her left shoulder; the tip and the very upper part of the shaft was protruding grotesquely through the back of her now-crimson shirt.

"Baby, please...C'mon, Sweetie..." Tanya's voice turned angry. "Dammit, Bev, wake up! Don't you even think about leaving me!"

Willow could see that Beverly's breathing was irregular, her shirt moving in arrhythmic hitches as she struggled to draw breath.

"We have to get her to a hospital," Tara said, her eyes never leaving her aunt's face. Willow looked up to see Buffy and Giles standing over them, dread etched across their faces.

"We--we should try to get the arrow out of her," Tanya said, her voice laced with desperation.

"No," Giles practically shouted, stepping forward. "If we do so, it could worsen the bleeding immeasurably. Tara's right--we need to get her to a hospital."

"Right--right, a hospital." Tanya was nodding frantically, as if this one word now held the fate of every dream she'd ever had.

"The bleeding seems to have slowed a little bit," Willow said hopefully, knowing as she did so that there could be two very different reasons for this.

"I'll call for an ambulance," Giles offered, hurrying over toward the shattered counter.

"Willow..." Buffy's tone held both urgency and reluctance. "Willow, Glory's got Dawn."

"Buffy, we have to take care of Beverly," Willow replied, trying to keep the anger out of her own voice.

"Will, the ambulance will be on its way," Buffy pleaded. "If we don't want everyone to die--"

"What do you mean, 'everyone'?" Tanya interrupted, her eyes blazing. "You're assuming Beverly's already gone? Toss her in a body bag and move on?" She was shouting now, her voice hoarse with rage for what was happening before her; terror for what might yet come. "Let me tell you something, Slayer, I don't give a damn about this whole prophecy/Key/Chosen One bullshit. Everything I care about is right here in my arms, and she's hurt and we're taking care of her. So you just run along and do whatever heroic things you need to do, but--"

"Tanya!" Tara's voice was sharp, uncharacteristically so. Willow realized that her lover's eyes had never left Beverly, and now she, too, looked down at the dark-haired woman, and saw that her lips were moving.

Following their gaze, Tanya's eyes widened. "Beverly--Baby, can you hear me? You're gonna be OK, Baby...Just hang on, please."

Willow realized that Beverly was trying to speak. "What is it, Baby?" Tanya asked, her voice breaking. "I'm here; help's on the way."

Willow strained to hear the words echoing dimly from Beverly's lips...

"A little less shouting, please."

Beverly swallowed heavily. "Got a bit of a headache." Finally, her eyes opened, briefly, and Willow could see life flickering stubbornly in the brown eyes.

She could also see Tanya wavering between hope and fear. "Baby, the ambulance is on its way. Just hang on, Sweetie. They'll be here any minute." She looked up, and Giles nodded his confirmation.

Beverly forced herself to open her eyes with obvious effort, and swallowed once more. "No," she whispered.

"What do you mean, 'no'?" Tanya asked, brow furrowed.

"No hospital," Beverly managed. "No time."

Tanya set her mouth in a grim slash. "I don't know what you're talking about, Sweetie, but you need to be in a hospital, as of right now, and that's where you're going."

"No." The voice was stronger this time, and laced with a resolve that made Willow think that this easy-going woman was not one to be dictated to. "The wound's not fatal, and I can't be in a hospital; not now." She licked her lips, and gazed up at Buffy. "She got Dawn, didn't she?"

Buffy only nodded wordlessly.

"I'm sorry," Beverly whispered. "I was supposed to protect her."

"I was supposed to protect her," the Slayer choked out. "I'm her sister."

Looking back at Tanya, who had observed this exchange in disbelief, Beverly drew another deep breath. "Tanya, my work isn't done. I can't go anywhere until Dawn's safe."

"I am not hearing this," Tanya muttered, her voice breaking. "You have to go to the hospital, Baby. You--God, you almost died, and you're still in danger. The arrow's so close to your heart..."

"Close only counts in horse-shoes and hand grenades," Beverly replied, her mouth crooking upward in a half-grin. Willow heard the wails of an ambulance in the distance.

"Get rid of them," Beverly said abruptly, her voice all business now.

"No," Tanya hissed. "Dammit, Beverly, I am not losing you!"

"You won't," Beverly said evenly. "But if you love me--if you really know me the way I think you do--you know why I'm doing this. And you'll help me." They stared at each other, until Willow felt almost an intruder.

Outside, the sirens were drawing nearer. Looking up, Willow thought she could see reflections of their lights flashing against the rain-streaked windows.

Dragging her gaze back to the silent struggle that was playing out before her, Willow watched as tears cascaded down Tanya's smooth skin, dropping silently onto Beverly's shirt.

"I am in love with a total fool," Tanya finally said, shaking her head. "You break my heart on this, Beverly Maclay, and I follow you in to the next life and dog you till you wish you'd never met me."

"Won't ever happen," Beverly whispered with a small grin, and Willow didn't know if she was talking about her death or the possibility of ever regretting Tanya's place in her life. Looking up at Giles, Beverly said resolutely, "Get rid of 'em, Watcher Man."

"Are you sure?" Giles asked, though Willow thought that his expression said he already knew the answer to the question.

Beverly nodded. "Got work to do; Keys to save." She grinned. "Tea to drink."

"Oh well, in that case..." Giles strode to the door just in time to greet the EMT's.

"I'm afraid it's been something of a false alarm," he said smoothly. "A minor mishap, but not so serious as we originally feared."

The first EMT, a wiry white man with dark hair, just nodded. The second, though, a tall Hispanic woman, had stepped further into the room and was now staring at the scene before her: a woman with an ugly projectile embedded in her shoulder.

"Holy shit," she murmured.

"Looks worse than it is," Beverly said cheerfully.

"Ma'am, you have--" She trailed off, uncertainly.

"Oh, this--yeah, it sorta stings, but nothing to worry about ," Beverly replied, her voice the very essence of reassurance.

"You take bolts from cross-bows every day, do you?" the woman asked, eying Beverly steadily.

"Not as often as I used to, since I quit playing full-contact Dungeons and Dragons," Beverly nodded agreeably.

Behind the second EMT, the first had taken in the scene. "Ma'am, we really should get you to the hospital."

Beverly's voice grew firmer--still very friendly, but also quite resolute. "I appreciate your concern, but I really am OK. Here--I'll make it official: I do not require hospital services, and I politely decline your kind offer to assist me."

The two medics looked at each other. Finally, the man shook his head. "We can't drag her there," he said, shrugging.

Looking back at Beverly, the second EMT said slowly, "No...no, we can't. But if you need anything, please call me--immediately. My name's Angelina Ramirez; I work for Alpha Ambulance Service." Willow wondered absently why the woman hadn't used the first-person plural to indicate their services. She also noted that Tanya hadn't spoken during the entire exchange.

After another long look at Beverly, both medics turned reluctantly and left, the bell on the door jangling noisily.

"OK," Beverly said, nodding decisively. "First things first: let's get this thing out of my shoulder."

"What about the bleeding?" Tara asked anxiously.

"It'll be worse for a few minutes, but it'll stop," Beverly replied confidently.

"Baby, did you go to med school when I was at that conference last year?" Tanya interjected shakily. "Because I'm not quite sure how you can know that."

"I just do," Beverly said, shrugging. "Maybe the monks gave me a little extra healing power; maybe I have access to certain knowledge by way of the transformation process."

"Maybe you have no blood circulating through your brain," Tanya muttered. "What if you're wrong?"

"I won't be," Beverly replied stubbornly. "Besides, I can't walk around with this thing sticking out of my shoulder. What else can I do?"

"There's always the crazy notion of the hospital," Willow suggested tentatively, but Beverly's arched brows told her that that suggestion had been vetoed.

"We can cut off the shaft end of the bolt," Giles asserted, then paused, looking uncomfortable.

"And pull the rest out through the back of my shoulder," Beverly finished for him.

"It will be quite painful," the Watcher said quietly.

"Then the sooner we start, the sooner it's over," Beverly answered flatly. "Help me stand up." Willow reached out, along with Tara and Tanya, and together they pulled her gently to her feet. She swayed once, but seemed to steady herself. As a group, they walked slowly to the big table in the library section and sat Beverly down gingerly.

Giles disappeared into the back room, reappearing moments later with a recently sharpened sword in one hand and their extensive first-aid kit in the other.

Buffy had watched all of this unfold without speaking. Now, she stood and held out her hand for the sword. Pausing only for a moment, Giles handed it to her. She turned to the wounded Protector.

"Bev, there's no way this won't hurt," she said evenly. "But I can cut the bolt and remove it more quickly than anyone else." She stopped, looking intently at the bleeding woman before her.

Without hesitation, Beverly replied, "I trust you." Turning to Willow, she said, "Bring a few books over here." In response to her questioning gaze, she added, "We'll stack them on the table, until the bolt's resting on top. That'll make the cutting easier." Willow nodded, and did as she was asked. As she did so, Tara grabbed a pair of scissors and gently cut away Beverly's shirt from the wounds.

When she returned, they piled the books one on top of the other until the shaft of the bolt was laying evenly on the top-most book. Then Beverly reached out for Tanya with her left hand and Tara with her right.

Willow watched her squeeze both sets of hands with her own strong fingers, and then nod at Buffy.

"Let's do this," she said quietly.

To her credit, Willow thought, Buffy didn't prolong the moment or try to say anything. She simply nodded, and then raised the sword and brought it down swiftly and surely on the bolt, as close to Beverly's flesh as she could without breaking the skin.

Willow had expected a cry of some sort, but Beverly was just humming. Leaning closer, she discerned the chorus to "I Will Survive."

"God, I hate that song," Tanya muttered, swiping quickly at her tears.

Buffy had moved behind Beverly, peering at the head of the arrow protruding through her shirt. "Giles, be ready with the antiseptic," she said curtly. "Bev, are you ready for this?"

"I don't think a person really gets ready to have a cross-bow bolt pulled out of her shoulder," Beverly replied. "I think she just says, 'Pull that fucker out.'"

With the words, Buffy propped one foot against the curved bench, gripped the arrowhead tightly, and gave a savage, wrenching pull.

This time, Beverly did cry out, and she was joined by Tanya's own anguished sob. Tara, Willow saw, was crying silently, never looking away from her aunt's face.

Giles moved quickly, pouring antiseptic fluid over first the entrance wound and then its counterpart, in the back of her shoulder. Beverly had turned dangerously white, and Willow thought that she would surely pass out from the pain. Instead, she drew long, shuddering breaths, trying to steady herself. Willow helped Giles bandage both wounds, watching anxiously for signs of heavy bleeding. Beverly continued trying to breathe through her distress, focus herself to keep from passing out.

They sat like that for several moments, until Willow began to believe that the bleeding had indeed subsided. After ten minutes, the bandages showed only faint traces of pink.

"I think the monks did give you some sort of resistance, or resilience," Giles commented finally, shaking his head. "It's miraculous the bolt didn't puncture any major arteries, or worse."

"Yeah, well, the scabby little would-be assassin choked," Beverly replied grimly, biting her lip against the pain. She looked up at Buffy. "This isn't over yet, you have to believe that. We'll get Dawn back."

Willow thought that she had never seen Buffy look so demoralized. "How? We don't even know where Glory's taken her." She shook her head, seemingly dazed. "I never should have taken her out of school. I should have left her there; Glory had no idea who she was..."

"If you'd done that, there's no guarantee Glory wouldn't have kidnapped her and used her as a bargaining chip, like you worried," Willow pointed out. "Buffy, you did what you thought was best and you had good reasons for it. Now we have to get her back."

She started as the annoying bell jangled once again; looking over, she saw Xander and Anya hurrying toward them.

"What happened?" Xander asked, his eyes taking in the damage. Catching sight of Beverly, he recoiled. "Glory." He said it flatly, as if he already knew the answer.

Giles gave a commendably brief summation of what had happened.

"So the weeping referred to rain," Xander said angrily. "Of course, I didn't get it, not even when it was pouring." He shook his head, sighing.

"Xander, Sweetie, we're trying to keep a limit on the self-flagellation," Tara said softly, resting her hand on his arm and giving him a tiny smile. He raised his head slightly, his eyes grateful.

"Giles, you keep any liquor around here?" Beverly asked abruptly. "I could use a shot or five." Giles nodded, and walked quickly around the counter, pulling out a bottle of Dewars.

"Thanks, that helps," Bev said gratefully after two impressive pulls on the bottle. "OK, we have to figure out where Glory's taking Dawn."

"She can't have too much time left to complete the ritual," Anya pointed out. "The rain's supposed to stop early this evening."

"Yeah, but then she can open the portal until love's eye looks upon her," Willow countered. "So that's the time limit."

"OK, if Glory's going to open portals between dimensions, she's going to need some room, right?" Buffy asked, looking around the room.

"I should think so," Giles mused.

"So it's probably outdoors," Buffy continued. "Someplace spacious."

"And tall?" Xander asked suddenly, looking at Giles and then the Slayer.

"That would probably serve her purposes as well," Giles concurred. "What makes you ask?"

"Because there's a big and very poorly-built tower going up over on the east side of town," he answered excitedly. "Where that puke-ugly Super Wal-Mart used to be, pardon the redundancy."

"The one that closed down when folks found out that the owner was a Corruptus demon?" Willow asked, peering at him.

"That's the one," Xander said, nodding. "The building was razed, but nothing's gone up since then, until now. My company didn't get the contract, and from the looks of it, no reputable company did. I wouldn't even know about it if I hadn't been over to that part of town a couple of days ago."

"And it's tall, you say?" Giles asked, leaning forward anxiously.

"Tall, and very shaky," Xander said decisively. "Looks like it's being built by a group of fifth-graders."

"Or by some very unstable people working under an urgent deadline," Tara suggested, looking at Willow.

"The mentally ill," Giles said softly. "Let me check on something." He rose abruptly, and made his way back to the telephone. He grabbed the phone book, and within a matter of seconds, he was punching numbers hastily.

From what she could hear, Willow discerned that he had called Sunnydale General Hospital to ask about its mental health ward.

"Several people left, against medical advice?" the Watcher was murmuring. "Yes, very interesting indeed."

Returning to his seat, he sighed. "Tara was right--all of the patients who had been admitted with no prior history signed themselves out four days ago. The hospital couldn't keep them there against their will; they posed no threat to themselves or others."

"So that's Glory's construction crew," Xander muttered. "Bet the pay sucks and the hours are worse."

"Xander, that's great," Buffy said, seeming to regain some of her morale. "It's a pretty good bet Glory's over there, and she has Dawn with her." She glanced around the table, taking in each of them with her gaze. "I say we gather up the weapons and head over there. Anybody who wants out, I understand."

Willow, Tara, Giles, and Xander just shook their heads. Anya, it seemed, hesitated just a moment and then sighed and said, "Well of course I want to be there. Wouldn't miss it for the world."

"OK, then," Buffy nodded, setting her jaw. As she prepared to push back away from the table, Tanya looked up. Willow saw that her eyes were red-rimmed.

"A quick question," she said quietly. Buffy just looked at her, waiting expectantly.

"What time does night fall around here?"

Willow stared at her in confusion. "Night fall?" she echoed.

"Right." Still the eyes held little expression.

"Um...I believe it's usually around 7:30 at this time of the year," Giles said, his face suggesting that he was equally confused.

"And the rain's supposed to end before then?" Tanya continued.

"Well, Accu-Weather didn't say for sure," Tara answered slowly. "They just said early evening."

Beverly spoke up, her brow furrowed. "Tanya, what are you thinking?"

Tanya looked back at her partner, nodding slowly. "I'm thinking that 'love's eye' has nothing to do with love and everything to do with the planet Venus."

*****

Part 35

"Venus?" The word was uttered almost as a chorus as everyone looked at Tanya.

"The planet Venus," she repeated deliberately. "Not the goddess of love, but the planet named after the goddess of love."

"The light from which appears early and very brightly in the evening sky," Giles muttered, nodding excitedly.

"Tanya, if you're right, that means Glory can start the ritual after the rain stops and before the light from Venus becomes visible," Buffy said, her eyes narrowing she took in the implications of this.

Willow glanced at her watch. "It's just after five o'clock," she announced. "The rain's supposed to end late this afternoon, maybe early this evening. It seems like a safe bet that the rain stops before Venus appears; otherwise, the prophecy makes no sense."

"Or I'm wrong," Tanya supplied evenly. "But somehow I don't think I am."

"Either way, it's the best lead we have," Buffy said, her expression grim. "OK, who here can recognize Venus?"

Willow, Tara, Giles, and--surprisingly--Anya all nodded. The ex-demon murmured under her breath, "You all still think I'm just a newly-mortal pervert."

"My bad," Willow said contritely.

"Great. You guys keep the rest of us--especially me--updated, OK?"

She's banking on at least one of us being alive at that point, Willow thought, unable to stop herself.

"We keep the Goddess of Ridiculous Shoes on the ropes until Venus shows up," Buffy was saying, "and then we're in the clear."

"I'm not so sure about that," Giles countered reluctantly. "Buffy, have you thought about Glory's reaction should she be thwarted in this?"

"I'm guessing 'disconcerted' may be an understatement," Buffy replied evenly. "But that's Act Two, none of which will see the stage if we don't stop her now. If we can take her out tonight, so much the better."

"Does that mean we kill Ben if we get the chance?" Willow asked, giving voice to what she suspected had crossed all their minds.

Buffy gazed at her for a long moment, and then said, "Yes."

No one spoke, and then Buffy nodded as if to herself. "OK. I think we should head over to the tower; find out for sure that that's where Glory is."

"Uh, should we maybe formulate a game plan?" Xander interjected, looking around the room.

"Go to the tower. Get Dawn. Kick Glory's ass." Buffy's voice was flat and decisive.

"OK. Sounds like a plan," Beverly said, nodding as if Buffy had just laid out the blue-print for the Normandy invasion. Buffy gave her a quick grin, then beckoned Giles and Xander to help her grab the weapons from the back. Clenching her jaw, Beverly stood up, leaning slightly against the table for support.

"Beverly, are you sure you're up for this?" Tara asked worriedly.

"What, and miss the grand finale?" Beverly's grin faded as she turned to look at her partner. "Tanya, Sweetie, maybe you should--"

"If you say 'stay here,' I will dump you and take up with Gwen Paige."

"That skank from the gym? You wouldn't!" Beverly's voice was horrified.

"Watch me, Girlfriend," Tanya retorted, crossing her arms.

"Christ, you fight dirty, " Beverly muttered, shaking her head.

"We'll take two cars," Buffy announced, as she, Xander, and Giles returned from the training room weighed down with weapons of all kinds. "Half of us will go with Xander; the rest will follow in Beverly's car."

"I think I'll let my better half do the driving honors for now," Beverly interjected.

"Xander, take us someplace about a block from there; we'll walk the rest of the way to avoid being seen." The Slayer turned to face them. "Guys..." She faltered suddenly, fumbling for words. "I know we're trying to save the world, but..." She stopped, clenching her fists, and then drew a deep breath. "But please help me save my sister." With that, she turned and headed for the door.

Armageddon Number 5, Willow thought, squaring her shoulders as she followed Tara out the door of the Magic Box.

*****

Moments later, they were parked behind a convenience store. Willow took in their surroundings: this was the older section of Sunnydale, with several abandoned lots and none of the chic little boutiques that dotted the tree-lined streets of downtown. Rain was still falling, but it was far lighter than the downpour of earlier. She watched as everyone chose a weapon of some sort, grabbing a long knife for herself. Tara, she noticed, was looking at the arsenal with a decidedly bemused expression.

"Still not much for the swimming?" she murmured into her girlfriend's ear.

"Or the climactic battle with the Hell God," Tara acknowledged ruefully.

"Tara, you should at least take a dagger or something small," Xander said, glancing at her. "Here--this one has a belt and sheath; you can just strap it to your leg."

Willow looked at her, her eyes a study in innocence. "Yeah, Baby--just strap it on. I bet you'd be really good with it."

"Remind me to put frogs in your back pack," Tara muttered through clenched teeth as she took the proferred weapon from a clueless Xander.

As they fell in step behind the others, though, Willow reached out for her beloved's hand. "Baby--promise me you'll be careful; promise me you'll keep safe."

But Tara's expression told her that she knew such promises were impossible to keep. She'd seen too many of their battles; fought in too many herself...and she'd witnessed, more than any of them, how tenuous human existence truly was.

Tara replied simply, "I'll promise if you will."

Willow gazed into the fathomless blue eyes looking at her with love and wisdom, and suddenly the desire to stop, to turn back and return to whatever safety they could find, was so sharp that it hurt. She granted herself the luxury of stroking Tara's cheek, leaning forward for one moment to feel the soft lips against her own. And then it was time to walk again, because really, she knew, they couldn't do otherwise.

The group walked in silence for the remainder of the trek to the construction site. In moments they were staring up at an immense tower that loomed at least seventy feet high. In the quiet of the night, they could hear the rickety structure creaking in the light wind.

"Spedoinkles," Beverly finally breathed.

"I thought you were an English teacher," Xander said, peering back at her over his shoulder. "I was expecting something a little more poetic."

"You got a better ejaculation?" Tanya asked, fixing him with a wry gaze.

"Probably not," Anya murmured as Xander shrugged uncomfortably.

Moving closer, they could see several figures--some in robes; others in regular attire--moving about the base of the tower.

"Good call, Xander," Buffy said quietly. She took in the scene for a moment, and when she spoke, Willow knew she had moved into combat mode.

"OK, guys, this is it. It's still raining, but it's definitely easing up. I wanna be in position before it stops completely, so let's move in. Glory's either got Dawn up on the scaffold already, or she'll be moving her soon. If I see them on the tower, I'm heading up. You guys do whatever you can to keep the rest of them from stopping me, because I'm guessing she'll make that a priority as soon as she sees me. Willow, Tara--anything you've been saving for a rainy day, bring it out now, OK?"

Willow felt the reassuring warmth of Tara's hand in her own as they nodded in unison.

"Buffy?" Giles' voice was hesitant. "What if we're wrong about the window of opportunity?"

Willow knew that the Slayer could barely consider the possibility. Suddenly, Tara's voice broke into the silence.

"Glory's not exactly stoic," she pointed out. "If we see her starting to panic as time passes, I think we'll know we're on the right track."

"Good point," Giles said, nodding.

"And if we are wrong," Buffy finally spoke up, "I think it's safe to say we're all fucked." She turned to start toward the tower.

"Wait." Beverly stepped toward the Slayer. "Buffy, I think I should be with you. You're going up against a Hell God, and I'm the only thing that's slowed her down so far." Willow could see Tanya's fingers clenching and unclenching around her ax handle.

Buffy looked from the Protector to her girlfriend and then back. "Bev, are you sure?" she asked quietly.

"It's why I'm here," Beverly answered simply. With a slight grin, she added, "Hell, that's probably about the safest place I could be. Glory's the one soldier in this battle who can't lay a hand on me. Besides, I wanna see the look on that wench's face when she finds out I'm not dead."

Buffy gave a small grin in response. "I get that." Then she turned back toward the construction site, which was lit by a bizarre mixture of lights and candles. "Let's do this."

As they approached the tower, Willow could see two robed figures leading a struggling captive up the final flight of stairs.

"Buffy," she whispered.

"I see it," came the terse reply. Buffy stopped abruptly in mid-stride; slowly, she held out her hand, palm up.

"It's stopped raining."

Buffy withdrew her hand, curling it into a fist. "Now," she hissed, and they tore forward, stealth abandoned. They were spotted by one of Glory's minions when they were within twenty yards of the tower.

"The Slayer! Glorificus, the Slayer arrives, accompanied by her insignificant, mortal companions in a vain--" He halted suddenly, crumpling slowly to the ground.

Willow looked over at Giles, who had just sent an arrow thudding into the warty little sycophant's chest.

"Nobody calls me insignificant and vain in the same sentence," he huffed.

"I'll make a note of it," she nodded, eyes widening. Turning back to the tower, they saw that Glory was on the landing between the second and third flights of steps. Far above, Dawn was being led to the end of a long platform that extended out over seven floors of empty space.

"Guys, keep 'em busy," Buffy shouted. "Bev--stick close to me." Together, they headed toward the stairs.

Glory's voice screeched out, furious and shrill. "Nobody gets up the stairs, especially not the Slayer and the lesbo."

"Which lesbo?" came the bewildered query, as the minions gazed out at the Sapphic-intensive onslaught.

"The Protector, you wretched refuse! The one that's supposed to be dead!" Glory slammed her fists against the railing of the stairs, then resumed climbing.

Willow could see that even with Buffy's strength, it was proving impossible to fight through the thick crowd that had gathered at the base of the steps to block her. Beverly was limited to warding off blows with her staff. Despite the dose of mystical healing, Willow could see that the Protector was in pain.

Giles, Xander, and Tanya were now wielding swords. Some combination of athleticism, adrenalin, and love was making Tanya a fiercer warrior than Willow had imagined. Anya was swinging a mace wildly above her head, and Willow made a mental note to give her wide berth. For their part, she and Tara were chanting litanies of spells as quickly as they could think of them--spells to separate; spells to repel; anything that might help them break through the throng. And still, none of them were within fifteen feet of the stairs.

Suddenly her attention was drawn to a slight figure perhaps twenty yards away who was sprinting toward the fray. As the person drew closer, Willow recognized her as the EMT who had lingered behind at the Magic Box, giving Beverly her name and workplace.

What the hell...?

From above them, Glory screamed out in frustration. "Not another one--I thought the Lone Star lezzy was the only one left!"

"She's a Protector!" Tara shouted. "She must have recognized Beverly and followed us."

"So that's why she was talking to Bev that way." Tanya's voice was harsh above the clanging of metal.

"What did you think she was doing?" Willow demanded, dispatching a wild-eyed teenager with a quick incantation.

"Hitting on her!" Tanya bellowed, bringing a minion to his knees with a heavy swing of her sword.

"While she had an arrow sticking out of her shoulder?" Tara called out incredulously, sending a mumbling homemaker flying with a hurried "Exodus Expedite."

"Hey, your aunt's a total babe!" Tanya protested defensively, neatly beheading a short, warty figure in a burlap robe.

Sparing a glance above, Willow could see Glory turn and resume her climb.

Why doesn't she just fly up to the top? She's a god. Then she saw Glory falter slightly, pressing her palm into her forehead.

"Tara, Glory's getting weaker!" she shouted. "Bev and the other woman are close enough to slow her down."

"Is Venus out yet?" Xander called. But the planet had yet to make its appearance, and Willow estimated that there was at least half an hour before it did so.

"No," she replied hoarsely, repelling a dazed man of perhaps fifty with a quick chant. Looking up once more, she saw that Glory was slowly making her way upward, and the more distance she put between herself and the two Protectors, the more she regained her strength. Several feet away Buffy was swearing, and Willow knew that the Slayer had also realized this. Her friend's voice held a desperation Willow had never heard before.

Oh God, she's not gonna make it. She can't even reach the tower; Glory's already--

Willow.

She heard her beloved's voice, but knew her name hadn't been spoken aloud.

Willow, together. We have to be together.

The din and chaos surrounding them faded and blurred as Willow suddenly stilled herself. Of course. How silly they had been, not realizing it from the beginning. They would do this together; they could only do this together.

She felt herself step back from her own desires and her own fears; felt her mind slide into the groove that she and Tara had etched together. She saw herself reach back and take Tara's hand without needing to look for it. The warm flesh molded into her own and anyone watching would have known that the two women's fingers were entwined but could not have told you where one outstretched hand ended and the other began. They were seamless, and Willow felt Tara's energy slide through her with a force and a surety that made her gasp. Their eyes met, quickly, and then both of them turned toward the throng blocking the steps.

"That which would divide us is now divided."

Willow didn't know where the words came from; she had never encountered them in any text. Nor did she know who had spoken the words. They had been uttered aloud, she was sure of it: the voice that spoke them was neither of theirs; and both of theirs. This was the sound, she realized, of two voices merged into one. It wasn't alone and it wasn't harmony. It was one voice--their voice.

It worked as she had known it would work. Bodies began flying away from the base of the staircase, landing harmlessly ten and fifteen feet away.

"What the--?" Tanya's voice was awestruck. But Willow saw Buffy look back at them, and she only nodded as her best friend mouthed the words, "Thank you." And then the Slayer was sprinting up the stairs, Beverly and Angelica close behind her.

The throng, once dispersed, seemed totally lost. The humans were walking aimlessly, peering with blank eyes at the chaos around them. The minions, it appeared, were torn between resuming the battle and hovering at its edges, waiting to see how this new turn of events played out. Willow took advantage of the moment to catch her breath and watch the emerging drama on the tower.

Far above them, Dawn was struggling against the two minions who had led her to the end of the platform. She was fighting like a woman possessed, and Willow suspected that the two servants had anticipated all of the glory of the moment but none of its difficulty. They hadn't counted on the slender teenager putting up such a good fight. As Willow watched, Dawn managed to free one hand, and with surprising force, landed a harsh blow to one minion's stomach. As he doubled over, Dawn gave him a fierce kick to his face. He lurched forward and with a final kick, Dawn sent him screaming off of the platform, arms flailing uselessly.

The remaining servant was still desperately trying to secure the Key, who was clearly energized by her recent victory. The struggle was terrific, and Willow could see the platform pitching slightly with the intensity of the fight.

Suddenly, both figures froze, peering at the landing several yards away. Following their gaze, Willow saw Glory emerge from the stair case.

Dawn stared at the Hell God for several seconds. It seemed to Willow as if they were talking. Then Dawn glanced back over her shoulder, into the abyss that opened only inches away.

"She's going to jump," Tara whispered, still holding onto Willow's hand.

Her partner was right. Dawn had realized that Glory would reach her, would bleed her to open the portals, and she was about to do the only thing that could stop her.

"Tara, we can't let her! Somehow--a spell, something to freeze her, hold her there--"

"Willow, we can't." Tara's voice was equal parts determination and despair. "We promised her; we can't break that promise."

"But Buffy's on her way up the stairs! Glory's still walking toward her; Dawn doesn't have to jump, not yet."

"Willow, Glory's a god. This could be over in a split second and it'll be too late for Dawn to prevent it. We promised her, Will!" Tara was almost sobbing now.

Goddess, don't make me watch this girl I love kill herself. Please don't let it end like this, with us standing here watching it happen. Please--not this. Tara's hand was clenched around her own, squeezing almost to the point of pain.

And then there was a scream, and Willow thought for one instant that Dawn had jumped; that her own eyes were unwilling to see what had happened. But it was Buffy, shouting out her sister's name in terror and desperation.

"Dawn! Dawn, I'm coming; I'm almost there! Hang on!"

At the words, Glory shrieked with frustration and tried to run toward Dawn. But Buffy wasn't alone--she had two Protectors with her, and they were getting closer. Willow watched as Glory stumbled slightly, raising one hand shakily to her head.

Willow looked back at the landing where Glory had arrived seconds before. Buffy emerged slowly into view, followed closely by Beverly and Angelica. All three moved tentatively out onto the platform.

Oh God, it can't hold them all. It's too shaky, it's too weak...

And then another figure had arrived on the landing, a minion who paused only long enough to cry out, "For you, Glorificus!" and then raced forward, tackling one of the Protectors and sending both of them off the platform and into the void.

"Oh God." Xander's voice was choked with horror. But a panicked glance at Tanya told Willow which Protector had been lost, and her own beloved's face was filled with sadness but not agony. Willow looked back at the tower, and in a split second the long hair streaming in the wind identified Angelica as the sacrifice. Willow looked away one moment before the bodies slammed into the ground.

Willow swallowed hard, gripping Tara's hand with trembling fingers, and then craned her neck to see what was happening seven floors above them. Glory was shaking with fury, looking first at Dawn and then at the Slayer and the Protector. Willow scanned the darkening sky, praying for some tiny glimmer from the second planet from the sun. It couldn't be long now; any minute now.

As if reading her mind, Giles cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted hoarsely, "It's almost over, Buffy! Venus will appear very soon!"

Glory bellowed with rage, turning back to Dawn. As she did so, however, Beverly darted forward and brushed past her, giving her a small push as she did so. The Hell God swayed slightly, and Willow prayed that she would fall. But Glory quickly righted herself, looking over to see that Beverly had positioned herself between herself and Dawn.

The glance was no longer than a half-breath, but such moments had been the provenance of Buffy's legacy for almost five years. She reached Glory in two strides, pivoted, and delivered a knee-shattering kick that pushed Glory to the edge of the platform.

Willow watched, unable to breathe, as Glory teetered for perhaps two seconds, the crazy weaving of a high-wire walker gusting in a sudden breeze. She was fighting gravity with the force of her godhood; but that godhood was wounded, made low by the force of the Protector that was looming so close to her. She gave one final, strangled scream, and then pitched forward off of the platform.

Willow vowed that this time, she wouldn't turn away, and she didn't--which was how she knew the exact moment that Glory became Ben.

The obscene transformation was made even more grotesque by the fact that it was complete in time for Ben to realize what was happening. Willow stared in horror as he took in this knowledge, his mouth opening in a scream that was smothered back into his throat by the force of his falling. Then he hit, slamming onto a pile of bricks. Willow could hear the snapping of bones being crushed and severed.

Only then did she look away, folding into the embrace that Tara offered, which she offered Tara in return.

No one spoke for perhaps ten seconds, and then Tanya was crying out Beverly's name. Willow looked back at the tower, where three figures were making their way as quickly as possible down from the tower. On the ground, both humans and minions seemed to disappear into the night.

When the three had reached the bottom, Beverly gave as credible a version of a sprint as she could manage, falling into Tanya's arms and kissing her so fiercely Willow thought their lips would bruise. Right behind them, Buffy was leading a shaking Dawn off the final flight of steps. When they were standing on solid ground once more, Buffy pulled Dawn into a tight hug; they said nothing, just rocking slightly. Finally, she opened her eyes, catching Giles' gaze.

"Glory?" she whispered.

"Is dead," Giles answered steadily. "She transformed into Ben during the fall; it was he who landed."

Buffy stared at him. "But why would Glory change into Ben? That's the only way the fall could kill her."

Giles only shrugged helplessly. Tara, though, stepped forward slightly, her arm still wrapped protectively around Willow's waist. "I'm not sure that's how it happened," she said slowly.

"What do you mean?" Buffy asked, perplexed.

"I think maybe Ben was the one who forced the change."

Silence greeted this idea, until Xander protested, "But he'd have to know it would kill him."

"And--and I saw his face," Willow added, her voice trembling at the memory. "He was...terrified."

"Who wouldn't be?" Tara replied. "I don't think he wanted to die. I think he craved life with everything in him. But I also think there was some part of him that knew this was the only way. Maybe--maybe the best part of his humanity convinced him that sacrificing his life was truly the best thing he could do with it."

Willow knew without looking that Tara was speaking to Dawn now. "I think he found the courage to do the most selfless thing imaginable," Tara continued. "And it takes more courage than we probably know to even think about doing such a thing."

Willow had a hard time seeing things after that, because she was crying and because she had pulled first Dawn and then Buffy into a hug. Within seconds, everyone was embracing someone and at some point Giles and Xander were hugging and that was how Willow really knew that the miraculous had occurred.

*****

After several minutes of random, chaotic hugging, the group managed to disentangle itself and take in their surroundings. The tower still creaked ominously in the night wind; Willow couldn't imagine that it would hold much longer. On the ground, the last of Glory's minions had scurried off into the dark like so many rats, while the humans seemed to be milling around close to the gated entrance to the construction site. Bereft of purpose, they seemed like remote-control toys being operated by heedless owners, their movements dazed and uncertain.

Several feet away lay four mangled bodies. Buffy tried to prevent Dawn from looking at them, but the teenager refused to be shielded. Pulling away slightly, she stepped hesitantly toward the nearest body--the minion she had propelled to his death in her fight to save her own life. Willow saw her face harden for a moment, and then the teenager turned to gaze at the battered figure of Angelica.

"Who was she?" she asked, in almost a whisper.

"She was another Protector." This simple statement was uttered with surpassing respect. "She was with the ambulance that came to the Magic Box after Glory took you. She must have figured out what was going on...I guess the cross-bow injury must have tipped her off." Her laugh was dry and brittle.

"So she came here to help? To--to protect me?"

"Yeah...That's what Protectors do," Beverly replied softly. She knelt beside the broken figure. "I want to make sure she has family; that she won't just lay here."

Tanya had stepped forward, and was now looking at her partner with love and relief etched across her tired features. "We'll take care of her, Baby."

Dawn, meanwhile, was now staring at Ben. "He never wanted Glory to win, not if it meant so much suffering." She turned to her sister. "He doesn't have anyone, Buffy. I think he deserves a decent burial."

"You're right, Dawn," Buffy assured her, her voice thick. "He deserves that."

Dawn looked back at the body lying twisted before her. "He didn't want anybody to get hurt," she murmured. "He only wanted to live..."

*****

Part 36

It was several hours later when they finally walked through the door of the Magic Box.

"What's going to happen to Glory's little cheering section?" Xander asked, flopping into a chair with a loud groan.

"I really don't know," Giles sighed, rubbing his shoulder. "Perhaps they'll return to some other dimension."

Beverly looked up, bemused. "I should hope so," she said. "Can you really see them integrating into this plane?"

"They could team up with Michael Jackson," Willow offered. "Nobody would think twice about him being surrounded by freaks."

"What about the poor people that Glory fed off of?" Beverly asked, her eyes clouding.

"And again with the grammar faux pas," Xander piped up. "I thought you weren't supposed to end your sentences with a preposition."

Bev fixed him with a withering gaze. "OK, how about this: What about the poor people that Glory fed off of, Jackass?"

"Uh, I think I'll let Giles take this one," Xander replied with a weak grin.

"I'm forced to admit once more that I simply don't know," Giles said slowly. "We've called the authorities to tell them where they are; what happens next is anyone's guess."

"Mr. Giles, what are you going to do about Binky?" Tara asked almost reluctantly. Giles looked up with a start.

"Oh dear Lord--I'd forgotten all about him!"

"Well you may want to remember him fairly quickly. He's in your bathtub," Buffy pointed out. "Maybe there's some kind of one-dimensional catch-and-release program."

"From the apocalyptic to the asinine in the blink of an eye," Giles muttered.

"So this is really over, right?" Tanya asked warily. "No small print loopholes, no do-overs, no 'Ah, upon a closer reading we see that Venus actually refers to the elder Williams sister of tennis fame.'" She said this last part with a faux-British accent.

"I resent that insinuation," Giles sniffed. "We have no reason to believe anything except that Glory has been thwarted in her attempt; furthermore, since her human host was killed, she was also extinguished."

"And Dawn and Bev both get to live happily ever after?" Buffy asked.

"I also believe that to be true," the Watcher confirmed.

"You are just morally opposed to one-word answers, aren't you?" Bev asked.

"Yes," he replied, negating his reply.

"So does this mean we can get some sleep?" Anya demanded. "I'm not used to expending so much physical exertion without having an orgasm to show for it." She met each exasperated stare with her own indignant huff. "What? It's true."

"Do you think their sex life is really that good?" Tara whispered to Willow.

"Maybe...Or maybe she means she does all the work," Willow replied with a shrug.

"I'm with Anya," Buffy was saying. "Um, about the sleep part; not the exertion/orgasm trade-off. If I had an orgasm for every fight I'm in, my circuits would blow."

Looking around the room, Willow wondered how any of them were managing to keep their eyes open. Exhaustion was pouring through her in waves. She leaned in close against Tara, remembering the joining of their hands, the incantation that they had both just known, and suddenly she knew that as much as she loved each of these people--even Anya, if she were being honest--she needed to be home now; in bed with Tara where things always made the most sense.

Glancing up, she saw that Tara was gazing at her, the blue of her eyes deepening almost imperceptibly. "Time to go," she whispered. Willow just nodded, unable to pull her eyes away from that gaze.

"Uh, guys--Willow and I are gonna call it a night." Looking over at her aunt, she added, "Can you do lunch tomorrow? Like, a late lunch?" she hastily qualified.

"Sure, Sweetie," Beverly replied with a grin. "We'll probably stay a couple more days; spend some time with you when we're not all in the throes of abject terror and impending doom."

"That sounds nice," Willow said cheerily, as she and Tara rose to leave.

"Willow." Buffy's voice was quiet, and suddenly serious. Willow turned, looking quizzically at her friend. Buffy walked slowly over to stand beside her.

"Willow, what you did tonight--clearing a path to the tower...If you hadn't, I could never have made it up. None of us would be here right now." Willow saw that she was having trouble speaking around her tears. She reached out and took the Slayer's hands in hers.

"It was Tara as much as me," she managed, her own voice unsteady. "It was something we did together." Looking back at her beloved, she added in a near-whisper, "The magic's always strongest when we make it together."

*****

Thirty minutes and what felt like three hundred embraces later, they were curled up in Tara's bed. Willow wanted desperately to talk about the evening, and with roughly equal fervor she wanted to fall asleep.

"Can you believe we beat a god?" she murmured, snuggled firmly into Tara's chest. "An actual god...I mean, well...god."

"Pretty amazing," Tara concurred sleepily against her hair. "I can still feel the hum in my fingers, from where we joined hands and dispersed that mob."

"Yeah," Willow nodded, planting a kiss on Tara's breast. "Where in the world did that spell come from?"

"I don't think it was from this world," Tara mused. "I think it came from a different place, a different reality from this one."

"Like Pittsburgh," Willow mumbled, before jerking back to wakefulness.

"Yeah, that must have been it." Tara's laugh rumbled through her, a delightful sound against Willow's ear.

Willow pulled back slightly to look at her beloved. "Baby, do you realize everything that's happened in the past few weeks? I mean, really--can you grasp it all?"

"You mean like my family showing up here for my birthday and me finding out that I didn't have any demon in me and Donnie coming back with news that our father had demon in him and me going home to find out that Dad wasn't really my father and that my mother had had an affair with his brother and that my uncle was my father and losing Mrs. Summers and learning that Dawn was a ball of mystical energy and finding out my aunt was also a mystical ball of energy as well as bisexual and deciphering a prophecy that helped us defeat a Hell God who wanted to use Dawn to get back home and wreak devastation on this and every other dimension?"

Willow blinked, twice, and then mumbled, "Uh, yeah...I think that about covers it."

Tara yawned. "Nope. Still trying to take it all in." She looked at Willow, and her half-smile was laced with sadness. "I think I'll be able to deal with the Hell God part before I make sense of everything I've learned about my family."

"About your family of origin," Willow clarified gently, slowly tracing her fingertips over Tara's lips and cheek.

"As long as I get to wake up next go you every day, I can handle it," Tara said softly.

"It's a deal," Willow replied, pulling Tara down for a kiss before nestling back into her arms.

"I can't believe how crazy it's been," Tara murmured. "And how quickly everything happened. I mean, it seems like every week there was some new drama."

"Yeah...Well, except for--" She hesitated. "Well, except for the last part. I mean, when we were in the Magic Box, right after Tanya figured out what the Venus reference meant...I know this sounds crazy, but it felt like we just stood there, in suspended animation, like, forever."

"No, you're not crazy. I noticed it too," Tara said, looking down at her with puzzled eyes. "I thought maybe it was just me. It felt like we were stuck to that spot for almost a month."

"Weird," Willow muttered, shaking her head. And then she was just too tired to move her head, and she dimly realized that she didn't have to; that she could rest, they could all rest, because the next day would come, and she was curled up next to Tara which meant that nothing too bad could happen.

*****

Time is a funny thing. It writes so forcefully upon our minds and souls, only to erase itself in a perpetual revision. And so the book is never finished, it seems.

When Willow had stood in front of the creaking tower, wrapped up in Tara's arms and finally letting herself believe they had all made it, she couldn't imagine that their life would ever return to anything approximating normal. After everything that had happened, culminating in that apocalyptic show-down, surely everything within the foreseeable future would be viewed through the lens of that upheaval.

And yet, as certainly as night follows day, she and Tara were moving forward and treating each new day, each new experience, as singular in its own right. Classes were meaningful; exams were cause for anxiety; new demons were slain with old methods; old demons were slain with new love.

*****

They drove Beverly and Tanya to the airport, tearful with both sadness at the parting and relief that they were all alive, all still with the ones they loved.

"Do you have to go?" asked Tara, in a small voice, and Willow ached for her girl. Family is so precious to her, and she's lost so much...

"Yeah, unless we want to lose our calling as shapers of young minds," Tanya replied. "Our jobs have this funny thing about actually being around to do your job. Still not sure what that's about."

Tara managed a tiny smile, but Beverly turned to her, her own eyes shining, and took her hands.

"You've had more than your fair share of good-byes, Tara," she said gently. "This one's only temporary, I promise you." Then she pulled Tara into a fierce embrace, rocking slightly as tears rolled down both their faces.

Tanya had extracted a promise that they would come visit them. "We have a couple of good friends, Debra and Rachel; they're expecting a baby. You'd love them, and maybe they could give you some good information about becoming parents."

Beverly rolled her eyes. "She's always trying to swell the ranks." She grinned, and Willow knew beyond any doubt that she and Tara had the same smile.

On the way home from the airport, they stopped for mochas. "Two shots of espresso, please," Tara instructed the gangly youth who waited on them. Turning to Willow, she smiled and added, "In honor of my aunt, the caffeine addict."

Later that week, they were over at Giles for a Scooby meeting. "It's important we not become lax in the aftermath of Glory's defeat," the Watcher reminded them, seemingly unable to simply enjoy their success. "While we can all certainly take pride in a job most remarkably well done, we have to be cognizant of --" He paused as the phone rang.

"Yes? Oh, hello--yes, it has been a long time. What's that? Oh--yes, I see. Yes, of course I'll tell her. Right. So long, then." Hanging up, he turned to Buffy.

"That was Riley, spouting some rubbish about being left behind on one of your outings and then getting lost in some kind of inter-dimensional blank space where he was unable to move until this moment. Honestly, Buffy, I realize you're smitten with him but he doesn't always seem quite...stable."

Buffy only shrugged.

Binky had responded to the news of Glory's defeat with surprising restraint and good grace. Of course, that was largely due to the fact that he was utterly homeless and knew that any attempt to rejoin his clan would be greeted with disdain if not physical violence. In any event, he set about trying to convince Giles that he would make a wonderful butler.

"Surely, most illustriously British One, you know that my scraping and groveling are beyond compare. When it comes to obsequious sycophancy, you'd be hard-pressed to find anyone with my complete and utter lack of pride."

"Indeed," the Watcher muttered, "I'm hard-pressed even now not to be ill in the presence of your skills."

In the end, though, Giles decided that Binky would be better off elsewhere; certainly he himself would be. Over the minion's desperate pleas, Giles arranged for Binky to be given lodging in a very specialized establishment; a kind of demon halfway house, if you will.

"There now--buck up. You'll be just fine," Giles assured him as he pulled his arm out of Binky's grasp and backed out of the boarding house.

Dawn rebounded nicely from narrowly escaping both her own suicide and a god's attempt to cut her open and use her blood as a Greyhound bus back to Hell. Now she was trying to cope with something far more common, and far more profound--the loss of her mother. She and Buffy were relying heavily on each other, and Willow was heartened to see that the Slayer was letting her younger sister give support as well as receive it.

Dawn was still infatuated with Tara. She was trying mightily to act normal around her, but Willow knew that the teenager was struggling with her feelings. She also knew that she was mortified at having blurted out her affection, in the heat of that conversation in Tara's room, what felt like lifetimes ago.

"Maybe she'll just forget I said anything," Dawn said hopefully to Willow one evening while Tara was out picking up a movie.

"Sure...That might happen," Willow replied dutifully, knowing Tara was more likely to become a crack whore than forget something like that. But that information wouldn't help Dawn in her quest to stop blushing whenever Tara was around.

A month after their victory over Glory, Tara received another letter from Nathan. Cousin Beth was still living with them, cooking and cleaning. She was staying in Tara's old room; would Tara mind if Beth moved in a few of her things? Donnie was pretty quiet these days. Time was, Nathan would have worried he was up to something. Now, though, he just seemed to be tired a lot. Of course, there was always so much work to be done on the farm; it could wear out even a strapping boy like Donnie. Oh--and if Tara ever felt like writing, Nathan wouldn't mind hearing from her.

And Willow and Tara had made a quiet trip back to Cold Springs, where they had visited Tara's mother's grave.

She gazed at the marble tombstone, taking in the inscription: Julia Anne Temple Maclay, Born Aug. 12, 1951, Died Sep. 2, 1997. Beloved Wife and Mother. "Be Ye Kind."

"Is that a Bible verse?" she asked Tara, pointing to the phrase at the bottom.

"Yeah--it's from the gospel of Luke. Mom knew Dad wanted some kind of Scripture reference on both their tombstones; she made sure this was the one on hers. She said it was one part of the Bible that she had no argument with."

They stood in silence after that for what felt like a very long time. Willow simply held Tara's hand, knowing that her beloved knew she could talk when and if she needed to.

Finally, Tara turned to her, sadness rippling through the incredible blue eyes. "I just wish I could talk to her, Willow. There are so many things I need to ask her."

Willow wanted to jump in and reassure her, but she realized that that would serve her need, not Tara's. Instead, she said simply, "What would you ask her?"

Tara sighed, shaking her head. "Oh goddess...I'd ask her--I'd ask her why. Why she had the affair with Quinn, and why in God's name she dragged her son with her when she did. And I'd ask her if she still thought she had demon in her when she died, and if she truly loved Donnie." Tears slipped down her cheeks, clung to her lashes.

After a moment, Willow said tentatively, "I wish you could, Baby; I wish you could ask her all those questions and everything else you thought of. And I wish you could tell her everything you'd like to tell her." She hesitated, then went on. "But Tara, no matter what you found out--would it change the mother she was to you? Really? I'm not saying that what she did was OK; it's just that...Tara, she loved you so much. I can hear it in how you talk about her. Even your dad--Nathan...When we were there, and he was talking about her, he said so. And yeah, I wish Donnie had had that kind of love, but that wasn't your fault. Your mom wasn't perfect, Baby; but it seems like she did a whole lot of stuff right, too." Then she fell silent, fearing that she had perhaps said too much.

Tara, though, simply leaned against her shoulder. "Whatever else she did, she was a wonderful mother to me," she whispered. "And as much as it hurts, knowing what she did, I can't bring myself to judge her; I don't want to." Gazing at her mother's headstone, she whispered, "Maybe the goddess made sure I didn't find out about this until I could handle it...Until you were here, to help me make sense of it." When she turned to look at Willow, there was a tiny, sad smile hovering about her lips.

"I can go with that interpretation," Willow said softly, feeling her heart slide and tumble and stretch itself yet again to make more room for this woman who was her mate and her best purpose.

"Let's make a promise, though, OK?"

"Anything," Willow replied, and meant it.

"Our children will never, ever wonder if their parents love them; and they will never, ever doubt that their parents love each other, and belong together, completely and eternally."

Willow tried to speak, but found that the lump in her throat wouldn't let her. So she settled for nodding, not trying to stop the tears that were edging down her face and tickling the corners of her mouth. She leaned forward, resting her forehead against Tara's, and they stood like that for several minutes.

And then Tara pulled back, just slightly, and took Willow's hand, and together they turned away from the grave and walked back toward their future.

*****
THE END