Disclaimer: Joss & Co. owns all these people, demons, creatures, etc. Yadda yadda yadda.

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Chapter Three - Marking Territory

"You've been at that for hours," Tara said softly, placing a hand on the redhead's shoulder. Willow looked up from the computer and gave the blonde witch a wan smile.

"I know. I just want to get through a few more pages, okay?"

"Nope. Later. You need to take a break," Tara said firmly, pulling the chair away from the desk with surprising strength and helping Willow to her feet. Willow winced as she stretched muscles that had been unused for hours. She looked longingly back at the computer.

"Tara..."

"Kitchen. Cocoa. Now."

Willow managed a feeble smile at Tara's strict tone. Putting on a contrite face she allowed herself to be led to down to the common area of their dorm hall, where the community microwave was. She sat on the threadbare sofa watching Tara heat the water and empty two packets of cocoa into their favorite coffee mugs and tried not to cry. It was all going wrong. The incident at the Magic Box with Xander two days ago was no longer an isolated phenomenon. It had happened again yesterday at the Espresso Pump, just for a moment while she was ordering a latte. The counter guy thought she was cute and she was able to pass it off as a bizarre kind of flirting, but she figured she'd have to avoid the place for a while. The latest incident had been in her morning class, and was more terrifying because Willow really had no memory of it. She had been answering a question in class, and the next thing she knew everyone was staring at her like she was, well, crazy. She had talked her way out of it by claiming heat prostration; Sunnydale was the kind of place where people didn't look at absurd explanations too closely. She had been lucky, so far, but clearly conditions were degenerating fast. Willow was terrified. Time was running out.

"I've lost your mind, haven't I?" Tara asked softly as she handed Willow her mug of hot chocolate. Willow gasped and stared agape at her girlfriend, who just grinned. "It's okay. I know how it is when you get involved in something. I can move your body to another room, but your brain is still back at that computer."

"Oh. Right. Sorry!" Willow exclaimed with a nervous laugh, blowing on her cocoa then taking a careful sip. "Tara? Since I did the spell to, you know..."

"Hold my brain together?" Tara responded with a wry smile.

"Yeah. Have you been...I mean have you had any...episodes like before?"

"Oh," Tara breathed, covering one of Willow's hands with her own. "No, sweetie. I'm fine. Thanks to you. You've been worrying about me?"

"I always worry about you. You're my girl."

"Always," Tara smiled, leaning in for a kiss. She stroked Willow's hair soothingly as their lips touched almost chastely. Willow sighed and began to deepen the kiss, but Tara pulled away suddenly, frowning.

"Tara? What is it?"

"I never asked. Are you okay? The spell..."

"I'm fine," Willow answered a bit too quickly.

"Willow..."

"Tara, don't. Please. Just...just don't..."

"Don't what? Ask for the truth?"

"Everything's under control! Why can't you trust me?" Willow buried her face in her hands. Tara went to touch her hair but stopped when Willow looked up at her. The dreamy madness in her girlfriend's eyes made Tara recoil in horror and self-loathing. Willow spoke to her cocoa in a gentle reasoning tone, oblivious to Tara's dismay. "Control, control, control. The bees told me to come, but the high water won't wash me clean anymore. The stars think they're fish; they smell like mint and stick to my skin. Fan me, fan me...Tara?" The flash of madness had passed, and Tara looked at her hysterical girlfriend in confusion and growing alarm.

"No!" Tara sobbed. "Willow, no!"

"Tara? Oh God, what's wrong? Honey?" Willow gathered her girlfriend into her arms, the warmth of Tara's tears on her shoulder and a growing suspicion of the cause in her heart. Tara's next words confirmed her fears.

"W-why didn't you tell me?"

"It...just started," Willow said, looking down at her cocoa.

"It happened before." Tara's statement hung there, daring Willow to deny it. She found she simply could not.

"Y-yes. But I think...I'm sure it's temporary. I'm still experimenting with my control..."

"You have to end the spell."

"Tara-" Willow began to protest.

"You have to! I can't...this isn't right. I can't let you risk yourself like this!" Tara was getting louder as she got more agitated. Several students in the hall had paused, curious, nearby.

"And I don't want to risk you!" Willow cried. Both women recognized that they were attracting an audience at the same time, and hurriedly washed out the mugs and returned to their room in silence. The second the door had been closed, Tara gathered Willow in her eyes and held her close. The redhead began to weep, and Tara made soothing noises. When the tears had subsided somewhat, Tara pulled away and tilted Willow's head up so that their eyes met, her expression serene in its resolve.

"It's my mind. It's my sanity. It has to be my choice, honey. I'm in my right mind to choose, thanks to you. And I want you to end the spell now."

"P-Please d-don't ask me to do that," Willow whispered miserably, her breath still hitching from her sobs.

"If you love me, you'll do this for me. It's what I want."

"O-O-Okay," Willow sobbed. She wiped her eyes with a tissue and breathed deeply, trying to bring about the calm that was necessary for properly performing difficult magicks. "I h-have to get m-m-myself under control, or..."

"I understand, honey." Tara forced back her own tears. She knew if Willow saw her cry now, she'd never agree to do what had to be done. She could be strong enough for both of them. She patted Willow's back soothingly until the shuddering breaths eased.

"I'm ready," Willow said sadly. "But we don't have to do this. I'm so close to the answer, Tara. Just a few more days, that's all we need."

"My mind is made up," Tara said ironically. Willow sighed desolately and took Tara's hands in her own, closing her eyes. Tara followed suit.

"Separate that which I have joined. End that which I have begun." Electricity crackled, and the girls' bodies jerked once, twice, then once more before everything was still. Tara opened her eyes tentatively, wrinkling her nose at the smell of ozone.

"Willow, are you okay?" she asked softly. Willow opened her own eyes, trying and failing to give her girlfriend a comforting smile.

"How are you feeling?" Willow countered. Tara shrugged.

"I seem to be...okay, for now. But we should make arrangements."

"I'm going to keep trying."

"I know."

"I've got to...I'll be right back," Willow said suddenly, and ran to the bathroom. She collapsed on the floor, trembling and sick with wonder and fear. The spell hadn't worked. For some reason, they were still joined. It didn't really matter what either one of them wanted anymore. The spell would remain active until she found a permanent solution, or until she went insane. And likely, she had realized in a moment of brilliant clarity, dragged Tara back down into insanity with her.

Or worse.

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Anya smiled idiotically at the customer. The woman had been nattering at her for minutes about some purchase, but Anya hadn't heard a word. Her mind was elsewhere, the same place it had been for the last couple of days. Cas Harvey.

The enigmatic blonde man had promised to come by the shop today to take her to lunch, and it was all she could focus on. Each time the bell on the shop door made its welcoming sound, she huffed a bit in disappointment. Just a customer. Not him.

It was a bit frightening how fast her feelings for Cas had grown. She had always thought Xander was the great love of her life, yet within days of their breakup she was happier than she'd ever been with her. Xander had always seemed to be embarrassed by her. Cas seemed to find her every idiosyncrasy charming. And there was something kind of sexy-dangerous about him, something that kept her off balance in a way that was exhilarating. There was a lot she still didn't know about him, but she had found out that he had been working for years as a magician's assistant and was currently unemployed. Anya had immediately wanted to offer him a job at the Magic Box, but she needed to run that by...the bell tinkled, and Anya looked up with a broad grin.

"Giles!" she squealed, launching herself at the weary Englishman. "You're back!"

"Yes, I..."

"That's so great! I need some time off."

"You...what?"

"Yes, cause you know Xander and I broke up,"

"Dear Lord, Anya, I had no idea. I'm terribly-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I'm over it, Giles. I've already met someone else, someone really special. And I want to spend all my time with him, but I can't because I'm working, you know? So I need time off, unless he can work here with me, so I can see him and work at the same time. He's new in town and he needs a job. He's got experience."

"Retail?" Giles asked dazedly.

"Magic. Not the real kind, the illusion kind, but still, magic experience. And, umm, I know he seems a little scary at first, but he's really sweet when you get to know him. Still scary, but sweet, and he's a great kisser, and he's really good at finding that spot-"

"Yes, yes, Anya, please, say no more. I'm happy to interview your new beau, but can I please just catch my breath first?"

"I'm just glad to see you," Anya said in a small voice.

"And I you," Giles said, smiling paternally. "I have missed Sunnydale, strange as that seems."

"No luck with Dawn?" Anya asked, suddenly guilty that she hadn't asked straight away. Giles seemed to age ten years before her eyes, his shoulders slumped with weariness.

"Unfortunately not. She could be anywhere," he stated, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes, eliminating the mist that had settled there thinking of his abortive attempt to find the teen. "I'm afraid I as a substitute parent I was a horrible failure."

"That's not true," Anya said loyally. "Dawn just needs time. She's trying to adjust to Buffy...she'll come home soon, I know it. Oh! Cas is here!" Anya broke off excitedly, looking at the door. Giles held his breath as he followed her gaze, then frowned in confusion. He could feel Anya trembling beside him, and wondered if he wasn't possibly hallucinating from exhaustion.

"The man that just came in. That's your new boyfriend?" Giles asked weakly. Anya flashed him a pleading look.

"Please don't judge him yet, Giles. I know he's kind of scary-looking," Giles squinted and blinked, but the image didn't change. The man Anya seemed to be talking about seemed impossibly milquetoast, not frightening. As Giles watched a customer brushed the man's arm. In his panicked haste to flee this perceived threat, Anya's supposedly scary boyfriend almost knocked over two displays.

"The blonde man? Wearing the gray sweater? Looking at the Idisi charms? That man?" Giles asked, trying to see what he was missing. Anya was clearly growing irritated.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes! Giles!" she said, hitting his arm. Giles cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry, Anya. He's just not...quite what I expected. Not at all what I expected, actually," he said. Before Anya could reply, Cas had spotted her and was approaching with a cheerful, somewhat relieved smile. Giles couldn't help but smile himself when he saw how genuinely happy the young man seemed to see the former demon. He found himself liking Cas immediately.

"Anya," Cas said almost shyly, leaning in and giving her a kiss that was far from inhibited. Anya returned the kiss in kind, and it was at least two minutes by Giles' watch before they broke for air. Anya smiled in dazed delight and gestured vaguely at Giles.

"Cas, this is Rupert Giles, the owner of the Magic Box. Giles, this is Cas Harvey, the man you have to hire." Cas broke free of Anya's arms and lips and shook Giles' hand with enthusiasm.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Giles. Anya has spoken so well of you, I feel like I know you already...and your shop is marvelous! I love it here, it feels just like home, only better."

"Yes, quite, just where is home, Mr. Harvey?"

"East Coast, actually. No place you've ever heard of, I'm sure," Cas breezed. "Long and the short of it is, I was in a bad situation and I'm happy to be in California. And I met the most wonderful girl in the world. Anya tells me you might have a job for me?" Giles frowned at the evading of his question, but couldn't help but be reassured by the light in his eyes when he spoke of Anya.

"You'll love working here!" Anya gushed. "Giles is the best boss there ever was, and the customers come and spend lots of money, and sometimes we save the world from being sucked into Hell. It's very rewarding."

"Anya!" Giles said sharply, and Cas gave the girl a gently chastising look.

"Mr. Giles hasn't exactly offered me a position yet, sweetie. And I haven't been able to show him what I can do."

"Yes, I'm afraid we should speak of your qualifications, Mr. Harvey. Do you perhaps have any references?"

"I'm afraid not. I've only had one job my whole life, Mr. Giles. I was a magician's assistant. My ma...my boss, Merlin, provided me with room and board, but treated me no better than a slave. I started working for him when I was merely a child, and had no idea there might be something better. Then finally I escaped."

"Escaped is an interesting choice of words," Giles observed.

"I know, it's a bit melodramatic. It's just what it felt like...but it's like there's a whole wonderful world I've never seen, Mr. Giles. Wonderful sights, wonderful people...I've never been so happy. Except now I need to provide for myself, and all I know is magic."

"Not just magic, Giles. He's good at other things too...I mean, job things honey. The math thing."

"I'm kinda good at multiplication, I guess," Cas demurred, blushing bright red.

"He's being ridiculously modest. Give him something to calculate!" Anya ordered.

"That's an odd request," Giles said, blinking rapidly. Fortunately at that moment a customer walked up with several small charms and a jar of hobgoblin toes. Anya deliberately said the prices aloud as she rang them up in the cash register, never taking her eyes from her new boyfriend's face. Giles saw that Cas' eyes seemed to be focused on some point over her head. After trying unsuccessfully to convince the woman at the counter that she should buy a second jar of toes for half price, Anya called out the price for the lone $19.98 jar and Cas grinned.

"That's gonna be $94.31, with tax," he said to Giles. Anya crowed the same number with gusto a moment later, and the woman paid with a bemused glance at all three of them. Giles blinked in astonishment at the young blonde man.

"That's extraordinary, Mr. Harvey," Giles said, smiling a bit as Cas blushed again. The young man actually shuffled his feet like a schoolboy.

"Mr. Giles, please, call me Cas. Mr. Harvey sounds like...someone I'm not."

"Cas, then. And you should just call me Giles. All of my friends and, er, employees do." Smothered immediately in an enthusiastic hug by a squealing Anya, and having his hand rigorously pumped by Cas, Giles didn't think to ponder how he still knew little about the man, or how strange it was that he no longer cared. Anya pulled away to thank him again and suddenly frowned, looking over his shoulder.

"What's wrong?" Giles asked. Cas immediately put a concerned arm over Anya's shoulder, and she smiled reassuringly at him.

"Nothing's wrong. I thought I saw...something. But there's nothing there. Just a trick of the light."

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The shaman had seen many things in his day, but the girl who had submitted herself to days of difficult cleansing rituals and spirit walks was unique in his experience. Unlike others of his kind, he had taken care that few outside of his own people knew of his power; he had no idea how this young woman had found out about him, but it mattered not. The ritual she had requested was not unheard of, but few had approached asking for this particular ceremony with such levelheaded clarity. He had told her what was required and she had performed every test admirably. The single-mindedness with which she conducted herself was unusual given her youth, certainly. But what truly made the girl different from all others was what the spirits were telling him about her. It was the sole reason he had consented to perform this ritual that would likely place both of them in grave danger. One final cleansing act was necessary. He must speak to her of what he knew, and hear from her the truth.

"You are fashioned of flesh, my child, but you are not of this world," he said as she kneeled before him, clothed in a simple tanned leather sheath that had been purified for the ritual.

"They called me The Key. I'm some kind of energy portally thing. Someone told me I've existed almost forever," she answered. "But this life is the only one I know."

"Time itself was changed so you might be brought into being."

"Yuh-huh," the girl agreed. Despite her resolution to go through with this, the conversation was making her skin feel prickly.

"Formed of the woman you called your sister," the shaman continued. "And then she died."

"Because of me. To save me." The girl looked up at him, a single tear rolling down her cheek and falling onto the dusty ground.

"Yes," he agreed. "But not just you. I have seen it in my visions. The fabric between worlds was ripped apart. Your sister saved many people with her sacrifice."

"I know."

"Speak, child. What is it you desire of me?" The shaman knew the answer to the question; it had already been asked and answered many times. But he also knew there was more that she had not yet told him.

"I want my sister back," she stated.

"Because you miss her," the shaman replied flatly. More tears fell, and the shaman was fascinated by the pattern that was forming on the ground. Much could be read in such things.

"Because I need her," Dawn answered. "Because the world needs her, too. But that's not the main reason." The girl doubled over, and her breath came in ragged sobs.

"Tell me," the shaman said, leaning forward intensely. Dawn's head was bowed almost to the ground, and when she looked up again he could see the agony in her eyes. The pattern that had formed around her spoke what she was going to say as plainly as her words, but the words were crucial to the success of the ritual. He breathed deeply, preparing himself for what was to come.

"Because she needs me. Because she's in pain, and I can feel it." This was the final truth, the one that the shaman needed to hear. The young woman who had died was still tied to this world, and thus his magic was not only permitted, but also desperately needed.

"You will do what is required of your own will?"

"Anything."

"You understand the risk," the shaman said unnecessarily.

"Anything."

"Then we begin," he replied. Somewhere in the shadows two men began to drum a rhythm that Dawn realized matched the beating of her heart. The rhythm grew faster as the shaman approached, his voice raised in prayer-song. The chant grew ever louder as he raised the knife.

Dawn closed her eyes. More than the fear, more than the pain, she felt a wave of peace overtaking her. As she lost consciousness, one word fell from her lips.

"Buffy."

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