Disclaimer: Joss & Co. owns all these people, demons, creatures, tax collectors, etc. I'm only playing with them.

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DESTINY, MAINE

"There's been some mistake," Lydia said, speaking in a soothing tone. "I mean you no harm. I'm just looking for an old friend."

"Don't much care why you're here. You need to go! Before it's too late."

"Not before I get answers," Lydia's tone was firm, but there was also a note of subtle menace that hadn't been there before. Her eyes briefly flashed with anger. The old man backed away, more terrified. Lydia closed her eyes and brought herself under control. "Look, I know that my friend...may not want to be found, although I have no idea why. But I need to find her. Please, I need..."

"It's okay, Carl," a voice from the room behind said. "I'll handle this." The man stepped from the shadows, and Lydia stiffened reflexively. It had been many years and his appearance had changed, but Koy Lorenzo still had a magnetic presence. The hard, speculative gaze he was giving her made her feel as if he was somehow absorbing all her secrets, and it was hard not to look away.

"Hello, Koy. It's good to see you," she said evenly when the silence had stretched to a length that was unbearable.

"Lydia. Wish I could say the same." Koy said regretfully, and now Lydia could see how troubled the man was by her presence.

"I don't understand. Is Tricia alright?"

"She's good. She's-"

"Standing right behind you." Lydia found herself enveloped in her friend's hug before she'd even finished turning around. Tricia squealed delightedly like the teenager she had been when last they'd see each other. "Dear Lord, it is you! I heard your voice and I couldn't believe it! I'm so happy you're here!"

"You are? I was thinking I wasn't welcome."

"No, no, it isn't that. It's just...we're not exactly the safest people to be 'round right now."

"Something we have in common, I'm afraid," Lydia admitted ruefully.

"Lydia. You are in trouble, aren't you? I thought as much."

"We should get inside. We're too vulnerable here," Koy said tersely, adding to Tricia in admonishment, "And you shouldn't have been on the street." The couple stared at each other for a few long moments, and Lydia had the definite impression that there was more than nonverbal communication passing between them. Tricia finally gave Koy an angry look and turned to Lydia with a grimace.

"I apologize for my husband. He worries so. Not that we haven't had reason, but..."

"Tricia..." Koy began warningly. She rolled her eyes at him and Lydia almost grinned; the Tricia from her childhood was infamous for that expression.

"Yes. Fine." The tone she used for her husband was full of annoyed affection. Tricia smiled warmly at Lydia; the former Watcher could see in her friend the ingrained cautiousness of someone who has been living in hiding for years. "My husband may be rude, but he's also right. This isn't the safest place for a reunion."

"Let's be off then," Lydia agreed. Tricia led her not out onto the street, but to the room behind the reception desk of the small hotel. Koy stayed behind with Carl for one moment. The older man looked troubled.

"Does this mean it's over, boss?"

"No. It means we need to be on guard. I'll brief Tampa and Bert. We need to be prepared for anything." Koy's eyes turned completely red, and Carl shivered. "Nothing will happen to my family, Carl. I'll kill Lydia myself if that's what it takes to stop it."

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SUNNYDALE, CA

"Hullo," Spike called with what passed for politeness, for him anyway. The Magic Box seemed to be deserted, but Willow had called to say something major was brewing, so he was dutifully here. Since his conversation with Angel he had been doing a lot of thinking. A lot of brooding, which was enough like his grandsire to piss him royally off. It was time for action, and he had decided that tonight was as good as any except...no one was here. Maybe they had left without him, except...something wasn't right. Willow was babbling and flighty, but she was unfailingly reliable. Things were askew...there had been a fight here, Spike was certain of it.

Cautiously he moved into the training room and stopped, sensing two heartbeats and faint traces of blood. He followed his senses to the weapons case, lying open and empty. Beneath it he saw the two witches, unconscious. He ran over there, noting absently how Willow was lying almost on top of her girlfriend as if trying to shield her from something. Both heartbeats were steady, and he was relieved to see that the blonde was already stirring.

"W-Willow?" Tara called weakly. She saw Spike's shadow on the wall and instinctively cringed, then relaxed. "Spike?" The vampire nodded, gently moving Willow slightly to allow Tara to roll free from her embrace. The redheaded witch showed no sign of stirring. She was essentially lying face down, her hair covering her face. What he could see of it was covered in nasty bruises. Her right cheek was swollen and a small trickle of blood was coming from the corner of her mouth. Spike took a moment to bring his bloodlust under control, before looking at the other witch. Tara was better off, although Spike could tell from the way she was cradling her right arm to her chest that her wrist was probably broken.

"Tara, luv, what happened?" Spike asked, gently but firmly. The girl sat up with his assistance, wincing in pain.

"Jan'esha demons...ambushed us...where are the others?"

"Who else was here?" Spike asked, a knot of fear making its way through his stomach. Tara, still dazed, didn't answer the question.

"Did they get out? We were trying to buy time. To stop the sacrifice," Tara said, her eyes focusing on her injured girlfriend for the first time. "Willow! Oh goddess, Willow!"

"Stop what sacrifice? Tara, who was here?" Spike asked through clenched teeth. Tara frowned, misunderstanding the question.

"I told you, the Jan'esha. Members of the Sect of Oktep. It's the Eve of Oktep," Tara said, relieved to see Willow stir. The redhead moved weakly, rolling further onto her stomach and spitting out blood and some small white things. Spike knew they were a couple of her teeth.

"Arrrhah," Willow moaned weakly, coughing a little.

"I'm here. Don't move, sweetie. You'll be okay. I'm calling an ambulance," Tara said, touching Willow gently and reassuringly on the shoulder with her good left hand before using the wall to help herself up. Willow reached out her hand blindly. Spike took hold of it, filled with the cold murderous rage that came by him naturally as a vampire. These were his people, his to protect. His to kill, of course, if it were possible. But not for anyone else to touch, especially not like this. One in particular above all the rest was the focus of his anxiety.

"Willow, Tara, Was. Dawn. Here?" Spike asked, panic making his voice rise. Tara grimaced, nodding as she lay the phone on the counter to awkwardly dial with her left hand. She picked up the phone and spoke in hushed worried tones. Willow continued to cough up blood for moment, then struggled to sit up. Spike helped her into a quasi-sitting position, slumped against the wall. She moaned with pain, but the fog in her eyes was clearing. Her anxiety mirrored his own. Tara hung up and rejoined them.

"The ambulance is coming. Dawn was here. She and Giles had just come...Xander and Anya were here too. They're all missing."

"Arraaeyah," Willow groaned. "Awep." To Spike's amazement, Tara seemed to understand what Willow was trying to say.

"I know. We don't have much time, but you're hurt and weak. You don't have the strength to help stop the ritual."

"What ritual? Where would they have taken them?" Spike asked, all business. Willow closed her eyes, and both Tara and Spike heard her speaking in their heads. This had become a common method of communication for her over the past few months, but both frowned at how different she sounded in their heads. Her voice was softer, weaker. There was a strange buzzing echo around it that occassionally drowned out the words.

"Who or what the bloody hell is Oktep?"

"Charming," Spike said. "How do I stop this bloke from killing Dawn?"

"Once Oktep is brought to this dimension, there's no way we could stop him, not even if Buf..." Tara stopped herself, but all three cringed. That wound stung as if fresh, no matter how much time passed. She continued, "Giles discovered a spell that can bind their magicks, render them useless, provided we can stop them from making the sacrifice before-"

"Grand. Tell me what I need to do, and I'll cast it."

*It takes two people, Spike. One has to be attuned to natural magicks.*

"You and me," Tara said firmly, and Spike nodded. The blonde witch was still shaky and hurt, but there were no other options. "Giles had put the spell ingredients in a bag...I don't think they would have found it. I'll go get it. You'll have to trace the sigils because...never mind, I'll explain on the way."

*I'm stronger...* Willow protested in their minds, the words so faint they could barely hear them. Spike brushed her hair from her face gently. The rhythm of her heart was still steady, but it was slowing and weakening. Spike sensed her condition was deteriorating fast.

"You're not well, Red," he said brusquely. "The ambulance will be here soon, luv. We'll come find you in hospital once we've got the others in hand."

*Help them. Take care of them..love you Tara...* Willow's voice faded out. The strange buzzing sound lingered for another moment, then Willow slumped further down the wall and it stopped. Tara was stricken as she saw her girlfriend lose consciousness. Spike knew that she was loathe to leave Willow's side, and was prepared to be severe with her. Before he could say anything, Tara leaned over, kissed Willow's forehead gently and stood again. She handed the bag to Spike, who took her arm with the other hand.

"Let's go," Tara said, her voice harsh with unshed tears. They heard the approaching sirens as they ducked out the back. Spike was impressed with how fast the witch moved, especially knowing how desperately she wanted to stay with her lover. He knew the kind of strength it took. He'd called upon that strength every day since Buffy's death. Keep moving, keep fighting, because you love a girl and it's what she would have wanted. He was surprised at how fervently he was hoping it wasn't Willow's dying wish.

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While he was struggling his way back to consciousness, Xander had the dream again. He felt warm and loved. There were arms around him, comforting arms, and a smell that he might have associated with the holidays if his mother had ever cooked a meal. He felt like he wanted to stay in those arms forever...until he saw Buffy and Anya staring at him. They looked angry, and he reluctantly freed himself from the happiness of the embrace...only to scream as he looked into Spike's leering face.

"No!" Xander yelled as came immediately awake, his heart hammering in his chest.

"Xander? Are you okay?" Dawn asked anxiously, and he forced himself to calm down. Orienting himself to their surroundings, he saw that he was chained between Dawn, looking at him with wide eyes, and Giles, unconscious as tradition dictated. Panic began anew as he realized who was missing.

"Where's Anya?" he asked.

"They took her a little while ago. She was awake, and okay. Then."

"Are you okay, Dawnie?"

"No. What's going to happen to us, Xander? What do these guys want?"

"They're the usual bad guys, Dawn. They want bad things. But...we're the good guys, right? So, we win in the end. Tara and Willow are out there working on it."

"They got hurt, didn't they? They weren't...oh God. Oh...Spike! He'll rescue us."

"It's okay, Xander. Spike will rescue us. I know he will."

"S-Spike?"

"Yes! Spike!" Dawn said angrily. "Xander, when are you going to get over this thing you have with Spike?"

"I don't have a thing with Spike! My thing is with Anya. All my things are with Anya."

"What are you talking about?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You...you're always down on Spike...see, like now, you're making that choky gaggy sound, and you think you're being funny but you're not, Xander. You may not like it, but Spike's a Scooby now and you need to treat him like he's part of the group!"

"Now's not the time for this, Dawnie."

"Why not?"

"Because someone's coming."

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OUTSIDE LOS ANGELES, CA

Faith was surprised when she was told she had a visitor. Angel still came by regularly, but mostly on the weekends and always right at the tail end of visiting hours. Tuesday in the middle of the night meant that someone else was calling. Someone who could pull some strings at the prison, too.

Wistfully she wondered if it might be one of the gang from Sunnydale; Willow could have hacked into the computers to arrange a late night visitation. Faith pushed the thought away. She'd burned those bridges beyond recognition, and it would be a very long time since any of those sins were forgiven. And the person who had been hurt the most, the person whose forgiveness she wanted the most, was dead. Angel had told her, but she had already known, sensed it somehow. She squared her shoulders. Melancholy really didn't work on her.

As the guard led her into the visiting room and unshackled her, Faith shivered, frowning. What B would have called her 'spider sense' was tingling, but her visitor appeared human. Appearances could be deceiving, however, and Faith met the strange woman's gaze warily. Looking at the suit and sensible shoes, Faith smiled grimly. She should have been expecting this.

"Faith, I presume," the woman said softly.

"Watcher," Faith greeted her noncommittally.

"Yes, you're right of course. I am your new Watcher, Faith. My name is Miss Blackman, but you may call me Hortensia.

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DREAMING PLANES, LOCATION UNKNOWN

Aldric wished more than anything that forms were material and solid on the Dreaming Planes. The urge to hit something in frustration was overwhelming. There was no real sense of time where he was; it could have been hours or days or weeks. All he was certain of was that his attempts to reach his sister in her dreams were without success. Part of the problem was that so far he had only sensed her sleeping twice, and she had yet to reach the depth of sleep where he could reach her dreams. He feared that the rest of his problem had to do with the dark magicks they were using to keep him in check. He had no idea how they were effecting him.

He wandered the Planes absently, more out of boredom than any real ambition to do anything. It had been so long since he had seen a living soul that he failed to recognize her at first. She had her back to him, staring off into the distance; he had the impression she was seeking some sort of contact, same as he was. She appeared to him as a slender young woman, but she glowed with a brilliance unmatched by anything he'd ever seen. She was a stranger to him, but he would have recognized her anywhere. He cleared his throat and she turned, looking at him with a trained mixture of curiosity and wariness. He smiled, hoping he looked reassuring. He was going to need her help, and he suspected she needed his. He held out his hand in greeting.

"Buffy Summers, I presume?"

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