Disclaimer: Joss & Co. owns all these people, demons, creatures, etc. You know the drill.

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Chapter Seven - The Scent of Fear

It was the first time that Cas hadn't felt at peace after making love to Anya. Becoming human had been a big adjustment, and at first the restrictions that his benefactor had put on him didn't seem that important. He didn't know Anya then; heck, he could barely tell one human from another. But he'd gotten to know her, and found that to know was, at least in his case, to love her.

Cas wished he was able to express all the reasons he loved Anya. She was frank but kind, worldly but still somewhat innocent in a way he related to. It was as she had been plucked from some other place and made human as he himself had been; he briefly considered that she was one of his kind, but rejected it. Cas was pretty sure he would have known that somehow. He was so happy to be the man she wanted, but now he felt uneasy. She prized honesty and truth above all else and everything they had together was built on a lie. So now he lay beside this wonderful girl. He should be basking in the afterglow; instead he felt like he was being eaten from the inside out. Anya's sudden hiccup brought his attention fully back to her. His love was crying, and Cas felt even guiltier. He reached over and pulled her closer to him.

"Did I hurt you?" he asked instinctively, tenderly brushing his hand across her face to remove the tears. Despite her distress she smiled into this palm.

"I can't believe Xander didn't believe me," Anya sniffed. Cas was frowning. An unpleasant but increasingly familiar sensation was rapidly overtaking him.

"Why do you care about what he thinks? I thought you two were over?" he asked. His voice sounded strange to his own ears, too gruff and deep. Anya looked at him in surprise.

"We are. I am. Totally over him. But, still, we were together for a while, we almost got married...I thought he valued my opinion a little...oh my God! You're jealous!"

"Jealous? I'm not...okay, I guess I am."

"I like it. It's very manly. Just as long as you don't get all aggressive and take it out on me."

"What?"

"I've seen it happen to so many women," Anya said matter-of-factly. "Hundreds of times, thousands even."

"Where?" Cas asked innocently, and at that moment it hit Anya. Her new boyfriend didn't know she used to be a vengeance demon. She opened her mouth to explain her past...and closed it in panic. Would he feel the same way about her if he knew she was over a millennium old and had spent years cursing men? It had been such a major issue for Xander at the beginning of their relationship...and Xander's romantic history to that point made former vengeance demon look like at least par for the course, if not a trade up in some circumstances. But Cas was different...maybe he'd stop wanting to be with her if he knew about her past. Maybe...maybe he'd stop loving her. Anya swallowed hard, looked at her lover and for the first time she could remember, lied through her teeth.

"I was kinda exaggerating there. I haven't really seen it happen to hundreds of women, I've, ummm, read about it, yeah, in lots of books. Hundreds. Thousands."

"Oh," Cas said, clearly satisfied with her answer. Anya wanted desperately to get back to her point.

"But you won't do that with me, right? You won't hurt me?"

"I swear I never will," Cas said. He wholeheartedly meant the words, but he still felt like a liar.

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The lie weighed on Tara's heart like an anvil, but it was necessary. Something was wrong. She knew it with the same kind of certainty that she'd had when she first met Willow, that this girl was going to be important, more important than any other. That it was worth the risk she thought she was taking at the time, the risk of being found out, of being shunned or killed. That was the certainty that she had now that something was very, very wrong with that girl whom she'd loved on sight. Tara was most sure because there was nothing wrong with her.

She'd been waiting for the episodes to start up again, to lose little pieces of time, to see the frightened looks of strangers...and nothing. It hadn't happened, not once, since she had Willow reverse the spell. She had toyed with the thought that perhaps she had been cured, through some miracle. Tara had seen miracles before, had seen them, touched them, played with them, some might say even performed them. What she was dealing with was not a miracle. It was a disaster, she knew it as sure as her love for Willow.

It was her love for Willow that had driven her to this place, to this person. She had brought with her the spell book from which Willow had taken the original spell, as well as the counter spell...she couldn't be sure if her lover had modified the first spell, and if she had in what way. Willow was notorious for her color-coded note taking in class, but horrible about writing down her spells. But it was the best she could do. She hoped it would be good enough. Steeling her nerves, she knocked on the black door. The man who answered was nondescript. He wore a worn bathrobe and slippers, but the power coming off of him nearly knocked Tara back.

"What do you want?" he snapped.

"I need help...my friend is in trouble," Tara said breathlessly. The warlock scowled at her.

"It's late. And I already told your lover, girl. There's nothing I can do for her," he said shortly, moving to close the door behind him, stopping at the last minute when he saw Tara's stunned expression.

"What?" the witch asked dully. The warlock sighed and opened the door wide. Tara passed through the doorway and it closed automatically behind him.

"You'd better have a seat. Since your friend didn't share with you what's happening to her, I'll take it from the top." Tara sat gingerly on a patchwork sofa, the warlock sitting across from her and eyeing her appraisingly. "Yes...I think you might have an idea that the one you love did not."

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Giles had broken every speeding law in three states to arrive at the small dwelling Dawn had directed him to. His heart was hammering in his chest. The things that Dawn had told him seemed quite unbelievable. The risk the girl had taken was great, and he would have a serious talking to her...but it seemed that she had done something that none of them had even realized needed doing. She had rescued Buffy from hell. As his heart rejoiced with the thought that Buffy was alive, Giles feared what he might find when he saw the Slayer. Dawn had as much as said she was not herself.

He stepped out of the car and approached the dwelling. Just before he reached it Dawn stepped outside. Seeing him, she ran and threw herself into his arms, sobbing mumbling about blood and dreams and death and life so fast he couldn't make sense of it. For once in his life, Giles decided not to even try to; instead he simply held onto the girl for dear life.

"I've been so worried...are you alright?" he asked when she'd finally calmed down enough to talk. Dawn nodded.

"I'm fine...it's Buffy...I know you think I did the wrong thing..."

"I don't know what to think. I know you took a frightful risk," Giles acknowledged.

"I had to...she was calling me...I had to find her. I had to save her, like she saved me."

"But...?"

"She won't talk, not to anyone. And she keeps having these dreams and waking up screaming. Giles, you have to help her!" Without further ado Dawn grabbed hold of Giles' hand and practically dragged him inside.

"Buffy? Buffy, Giles is here. He's come to take us h-home," Dawn said, her voice cracking on the final word. Buffy sat at the edge of a cot, a blanket draped across her shoulders, her hair limp and sweaty against her forehead. Giles was simultaneously overjoyed by the sight of her and appalled by the haunted look in her eyes. She looked at him, but Giles had the sense she didn’t see him.

“Buffy? Can you hear me?” he asked softly. Buffy flinched as if about to be struck, and both Dawn and Giles instinctively took a step back. After a moment he tried again. “Buffy, it’s Giles. You’re safe, Buffy. We’re taking you back to Sunnydale.”

“Everyone’s going to be so happy to see you, Buffy,” Dawn added softly.

“Y-yes, of course,” Giles agreed, feeling momentarily guilty for the situation he had left so abruptly. “Your friends are going to be thrilled, Buffy. We’ve missed you terribly, all of us.”

“Friends...” Buffy said, the word coming out slightly slurred. Dawn gasped, then leaned in hopefully.

“Yes, your friends need you, Buffy,” Giles encouraged.

What happened next was shocking in both its suddenness and almost anticlimactic nature. Buffy’s eyes simply snapped back into focus. She looked around her, blinked a few times, and favored Giles and Dawn with a grim smile.

“Dawnie,” she said, holding out her arms, and Dawn fell into them crying, burying her face on her sister’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Dawnie. Are you okay?”

“Are you kidding? I’ve got you back. You’re sure you‘re okay?” Dawn sniffled, “Really okay?”

“Yes, I’ll be fine. Shhh, it’s alright,” Buffy soothed. She looked up at Giles, her expression troubled.

“Giles, what’s happening to Willow?”

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Buffybot’s programming was sounding a constant, strong alarm that pierced through its mass of wires like a series of constant electrical shocks. It needed to return to Spike. It had needed to return to Spike for exactly ten hours, sixteen minutes, forty-two point seven zero three five seconds. Technically it should have stopped functioning by now; the alarm was designed to disable it if it malfunctioned or ran counter to its programming. Up until now it had been unaware that it was even possible to ignore its programming. After all, it was only a machine, designed to perform functions, only as good as Warren, the Maker, had made it. Buffybot didn’t quite realize it, but in transcending its programming it had achieved something its maker had never conceived was possible. Buffybot was no longer an it. Buffybot was a she. And she was possessed by one thought and one thought alone. She was inadequate. Spike didn’t love her.

Buffybot knew she loved Spike because she had been programmed to do so, but that didn’t change the fact that she did love him, wholly and completely. Therefore she was returning herself to the Maker for enhancements. There had to be a way to make her the real Buffy, despite what Spike had said.

But the Maker wasn’t home. Warren’s mother had said he had taken off for ‘school’ again...Buffybot had searched her databanks and come up with school for Dawn, Willow, Tara and even herself, but no reference for Warren. So she had begun going from school to school in Sunnydale, searching for him. She was now walking across the UC-Sunnydale campus, determined but beginning to tire. It had been a long time since her last recharge, and violating her programming seemed to be draining her more quickly than usual. Looking up she saw someone that was in her databanks.

//ACCESSING ...WILLOW ROSENBERG ... BEST FRIEND ... GAY (1999-PRESENT) ... WITCH ... GOOD WITH COMPUTERS//

Buffybot frowned. Spike had insisted she should never let any of her friends see her. It was very important to him. On the other hand, Willow Rosenberg was good with computers, and was her best friend. Perhaps she could explain what Buffybot was doing wrong. Perhaps she could repair her functions to make her Buffy so that Spike would love her. She walked over to her and smiled brightly.

“Hello, Willow,” Buffybot said politely. Willow looked at her and blinked sluggishly.

“Buffy?” she asked. “Aren’t you dead?”

“I am not the real Buffy Summers. I belong to Spike,” Buffybot answered in that same cheery tone. “I need your help, Willow.” Willow stared at the bot for a second, then started to laugh. Small chuckles at first, gradually becoming hysterical giggles that practically made her collapse. Tears were streaming down her face. Buffybot was laughing as well, although the humor had escaped her. Perhaps this joke was not in her programming; in any case she knew that laughing at humor was appropriate. Willow stopped laughing as suddenly as she had started. She grabbed hold of Buffybot’s arms and stared into her face.

“Get me out of here,” she cried in anguish. “There’s no color there, and the sounds hurt my heart...the silver lady calls me, but I can’t grow in that barren land...I don‘t want to fall, Buffy. Don‘t let me fall...”

“You are in need of rescue? I sense no vampires,” Buffybot said, her head cocked to one side.

“Don’t let me fall...don’t let me fall...”

“Willow, do you need service?” Buffybot asked. Her best friend unfortunately seemed to be broken. Buffybot swept the weeping girl into her arms. “I will take you to someplace safe. I do not know if Warren can help you, but when I find him I will see.”

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Xander had left right after Willow did, and had originally made a beeline for campus. However, a glimpse of red hair turning down a side street had sent him on an unfortunate wild goose chase. When he‘d finally caught up with the girl she‘d born only a passing resemblance to his friend, and Xander could kick himself for wasting so much valuable time. At that point he had been only a few blocks from the Rosenbergs’ house, so he had decided to check there first. There was no sign that his friend had been home in quite some time; calls to her dorm and to the emergency beepers she and Tara wore went unanswered.

Finally he had arrived at her dorm room, fully intending to knock the door down if he had to. Of course, he didn’t know if he could actually do that...but if Willow needed him to he’d find a way. When he got there he saw that the question was moot. The door was hanging ajar, filling him with even more trepidation. His dread grew even greater when he saw the state of the room. It looked like it had been ransacked.

*No, worse, vandalized,* he amended, freezing when he saw the stuffed animal she had left almost shredded on the floor. He picked it up, holding its head back on its body, his eyes wide with fear.

It had been a blue elephant, smiling almost enigmatically. He had won it for Willow at the St. Lucy’s Winter Carnival some...what...eight years ago? Jesse had been laughing at how hard he worked at winning it, and to be honest he had been trying to catch the eye of Harmony Kendall at the time. Xander shuddered at that unhappy memory. But it had been Willow who squealed with delight at his victory, and to Willow went the spoils. He could still remember the light in her eyes...

The mangled elephant spoke more eloquently of how badly Willow needed help than anything else he had seen. Xander stood there holding it together as if somehow he could put Willow right that way. He felt totally helpless. How could he help her if he couldn’t even find her? And what would he do if he did find her?

He was almost out the door when he heard the sound from the closet. It was muffled, but it was definitely a cry for help. A female cry for help. Xander reached the door in three gigantic steps and ripped the door open. There was a girl he didn’t recognize huddled on the floor of Willow’s closet. Her tear-stained face was hidden by her long hair, which was tangled around her face in hopeless knots. Her legs were completely bare, and she seemed to only be wearing Willow’s hot pink rain slicker. Her arms were wrapped around her knees as she shivered with cold and fright. Xander gaped down at her and she looked up at him pleadingly. A shock of recognition went through him.

“Amy?”

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