The Last Battle

Title: The Last Battle

Rating: "Chiaroscuro" is mostly R and PG. However, some content may be considered NC-17.

Disclaimer: All characters are the property of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, etc. Only the lame plots and dialogue herein are mine.

Thanks: to Kes and DorothyL, the world's most long-suffering betas, and to Devil Piglet for the endless encouragement. Also, thanks to Beamer and Brynn for letting me use some good jokes, and to Green for some last-minute reassurance.

Notes: This is a sequel to “One Good Day." I wrote most of this before "Chosen" aired, and I agonized over whether to change things that were too similar or too dissimilar to that episode. I finally left things pretty much as they were, but added bits about Xander, Anya and the other Scoobies, because I wanted to see so much more of them in Season 7.

As he strolled the last few blocks to the blackened shell of the old Sunnydale High School, Xander began to wonder exactly how many times he had walked, run, or skateboarded down this same sidewalk. If he really thought about it, he should be able to figure it out. Let's see . . .it would be the number of days in the school year, times four, minus absentee days, plus the times he had made the trip more than once a day because of detentions, Scooby meetings, various social and sporting events, and ongoing rumbles with demons.

After a minute, Xander realized he was still stuck at the first part of the equation. He sighed. The academic part of his high school years really had been a waste - he had never gotten as far as Statistics and Probability in math classes. In fact, only Willow's relentless coaching had gotten him out of Algebra class with a C minus, and even then he had made a determined and sincere effort to forget everything he knew the moment the final exam was over. But he didn't need a statistical analysis to tell him that today would probably be the last time he made this trip.

He gave a reluctant grin as he turned the corner and saw the grounds of the school. Xander had been to many an imminent Apocalypse, but this was the first one for which the Scoobies had obtained a block party permit. Willow had come up with the idea to mask their real intentions from the Sunnydale authorities while they marshaled their forces near the Hellmouth. The blackened grounds of the school and the street in front of it were covered with blue and brown tents of various sizes and shapes. There were banners hung from tent to tent and even a few balloons. People wearing a variety of unlikely costumes scurried around. There were women dressed in long flowing robes that ranged from the elaborate in one or two cases to the comfortable and worn in others. In fact, many of the gowns looked like they might be the wearer's idea of an everyday garment. A few men had on outfits that appeared to be leftovers from science fiction conventions. True, most of the workers were dressed in ordinary jeans and shirts. But enough had made the effort at historical garb to create the illusion that something along the lines of a Renaissance Fair was taking place.

There were battered vehicles parked up and down the street, several of them with trailers full of supplies attached. People were hauling boxes into the tents and yelling instructions at each other.

There were even a few Port-a-Potties lined up by the curb. My big contribution to organizing this thing. "Where can we get a good deal on Port-a-Potties, Xander?" " Go to Honey Buckets and mention my name—they'll give you 10 percent off."

All we Scoobies have our areas of expertise. Buffy and Spike are fighters, Willow and Tara have magic, Giles is with the book-learning, Dawn's an inter-dimensional portal, and I know plumbing supplies.

The entire area had the tacky and determinedly cheerful air of a Community Event. Except that there were no signs saying what the event was, what the admission price was, and where the beer would be sold.

There was, however, an ambulance parked just across from the blasted entrance to the main building. As Xander approached it, he heard voices and saw a pimply, bored-looking teenager in oversized shorts and a They Might Be Giants t-shirt talking to someone inside.

"Stupid place for a fair," said the kid. He had one foot on a skateboard, and was rolling it back and forth absent-mindedly.

"Then maybe you don't want to go to it," said the woman in the ambulance. Her uniform identified her as an EMT. Xander realized that he should recognize her, but couldn't come up with a name. Not someone he had ever dated—she was too old. Hot though, in a fortyish way. Tall and a bit plump, with brown hair pulled back from her face to reveal a classic, patrician bone structure. Her voice had a no-nonsense quality. "Besides, this is a private event that some kind of medieval studies group is running."

"I could crash it. Nothing else to do in this stupid town."

"Not true." She looped the cords on some equipment carefully out of the way, and looked thoughtful. "I hear there's a free concert in the park down by the highway. You know, the one where they hold the auctions."

"That's almost out of town. Better be a good group if I'm going to drag my ass all the way out there." The kid picked his nose meditatively.

"Maybe you don't want to bother. I heard their music once, and I thought it sounded kind of obscene."

"Really?" The boy brightened at that. "I'm gonna get down there!" He turned and hopped on his skateboard.

"Obscene?" Xander heard a male voice ask the question, as he watched the boy skim away from what would shortly become a field of battle.

"Yeah," said the EMT, her voice suddenly becoming husky and a bit flirtatious. "Obscene."

"I thought the senior citizen's committee was sponsoring an accordion concert down there. The epitome of dorkiness." The man was middle-aged and balding, with a pleasant, round face. Not, Xander thought, deserving of those husky tones.

"They are. Have you ever been to one of those things?" The woman was clearly laughing now. "The way those guys massage those instruments, back and forth, back and forth, as they thrust their hips against that air bag thing, fingering just the right keys. Dorky, yes. But I vote for obscene and disturbing as well. Besides," and she jerked her head towards the retreating form of the teenager, "he's well out of this."

"Wish I could convince you to go out there and watch those dorks massage their instruments," said the man. Xander belatedly recognized the man as Buffy's boss, Tom, and the woman as Tom's wife.

"Will you come with me?" she asked in a wheedling tone. "It's no fun to watch a bad massage without good company."

"You know I can't," he said bleakly. "I need to be in this fight. It's what I do."

"Then I need to be here to pick up the pieces," she said, staring down at Tom. "It's what I do."

Husband and wife locked eyes. Tom swung himself up into the ambulance, reaching for her. She stepped back a pace, but only to make room for him in the confines of the vehicle, her hand reaching up to touch his cheek.

Xander suddenly realized they were unaware of his presence and hurried away. How weird, he thought, to find himself eavesdropping on what was about to turn into an intimate moment. And how weird that two people that old were still having moments like that.

He turned away and almost blundered into a confrontation between another middle-aged man and a woman. A woman Xander knew very well.

"Anya, you shouldn't have come," Giles was saying urgently. He was standing under the blackened skeleton of one of the trees that had stood in front of the school, his back to Xander as he argued with his companion. "You should have stayed in England."

"All right, then, I'll go back," she retorted, in a tone that said she had no intention of doing anything of the sort. "I'll go, just as soon as you look me in the eye and tell me honestly that it won't be useful to have someone who knows as much about demons as I do around today. Tell me that there's no chance I can make a difference, and I'll get my ass right back to the airport." Her gaze followed Giles' hands as they pulled off his glasses and started cleaning them. "And honestly means putting those stupid things on your nose and meeting my eyes while you talk."

Giles looked guiltily at the glasses in his hands. He shoved them quickly back on, but looked away as he said, "Very well. It's not as if I've ever had any control over what you did anyway."

"I should say not," retorted Anya. "That business with the handcuffs was never more than a game, and don't you forget it."

After that, Xander was in a great hurry to scurry away before he was discovered by the couple. And in an even bigger hurry to forget all the memories that her handcuffs reference had dredged up.

When his embarrassment subsided a bit, he found himself hiding behind the canvas folds of the largest tent. He peeked inside, and gulped when he realized that he had stumbled on the meeting place of the Seely Coven. A year of intermittent social interaction and occasional encounters during demon-hunting sessions had not lessened Xander's fear and awe of Sunnydale's most powerful witches.

He recognized two youngsters, Lavender and Thyme, who were seated at a picnic table and playing a game involving cards with Anime characters on them. They were patiently trying to explain something about Yu-Gi-Oh! and a duel to an elderly man who wore the bemused expression of someone trying to program a VCR for the first time. After a minute, Xander's brain put a name to the man--Basil, a warlock of the coven and the girls' great uncle.

A few feet further inside, Jonathan was clutching his magic bone nervously, his eyes fixed on the face of one of the middle-aged witches. "Be careful," Saffron said. "Your illusions may be helpful in this fight, but never forget they're illusions and the things that will attack us will be very real."

Before Jonathan could reply, someone tapped Xander on the shoulder. He turned to find Sage regarding him with a steady blue stare. "Uh, hi," he said. "Not really eavesdropping. Not really." Don't turn me into a toad, please!

She had to bite her lip to keep her smile at his discomfort from getting out of control. "I was just wondering if you could help me with something."

"Oh." He followed her obediently out to a pickup truck, and was relieved to find the chore consisted of carrying a large box back into the tent.

"Thank you," she said when he accomplished his mission.

"What's in it?" he asked nervously, looking at his hands and wondering if anything magical had rubbed off on them.

"Refreshments," she said. "We probably won't have time to call Pizza Hut or send someone to the Doublemeat if this goes on past lunchtime."

She looked ready to let him go, but instead of running away, he gestured at the two children playing their card game. "Do they have to be here?" he asked. "They're not full members of your coven, are they?"

"No, but we can't risk one of the others being—incapacitated with no replacement." She started to unpack the box. Her voice remained even, but now he could hear the effort that cost her. "I want to send the children away, Xander, but—they won't be needed unless the worst is about to happen. And if the worst happens, no remnant of my coven, not even those two little ones, will be safe from the thing that destroys us, no matter how well they hide." She shrugged. "They have to be here. It's what we were all born to do."

"You have a destiny," said Xander into the awkward silence. He would not have spoken at all, but the look in her eyes hurt so much he felt a need to make some remark, however lame.

"Yes, and as Buffy would say, having a destiny sucks big time." Sage pulled some items out of the box and frowned at them. "Slim-Jims and Kool-Aid. How disgusting. They must have let Hawthorne do the shopping."

"I'm starting to notice a theme here," said Xander, remembering Tom's wife and Anya. "All you guys seem to be on the same page."

Sage misunderstood. "The Seely Coven has been planning this attack on the Hellmouth for over a century, you know. We were only waiting for the three heroes to appear. I should hope we're at least as well organized as a PTA fundraiser."

"That's not exactly what I meant," said Xander. "All these people know just what they have to do. Except for the stupid kids who think this is really a Renaissance fair and have to be chased off, everyone here is needed. But what about me? You just said three heroes—that means Buffy, Dawn, and Spike. Am I needed at all? And for what?" As if to answer his own question, he began to take items out of the box, sorting out snack foods and plastic eating utensils. Xander Harris, boy caterer's assistant.

"You are needed." Sage hesitated. "Unfortunately, this is the point where I become the wise but enigmatic counselor who nods and smiles, but doesn't really answer your question. If you insist, I could talk in riddles you won't understand."

"Why riddles? Why not just tell me what they mean?" demanded Xander, his fear of her forgotten in his frustration.

"Because I don't understand exactly what they mean either. That's the dirty little secret of most wise and enigmatic counselors." She looked around and nodded to someone outside the tent. "Good luck, grasshopper." She turned and walked away, leaving him to gloom for a moment until he spotted something at the bottom of the box. "Hey," he said. "Krispy Kremes!"

"Willow!" Xander waved at his old friend.

She looked over her shoulder at him, smiled briefly, and then turned to watch something going on across the street. Xander followed her gaze, and saw Tara laughing with a group of women with identical tattoos on their arms. Willow looked as if she wanted to join them, but instead she came over and hugged Xander.

"I'm so proud of you," she said. But her face was pale and worried.

Xander shuffled his feet. "You don't have to stay," he said. "I know you have stuff to do over there." He motioned towards the witches.

"Some stuff," admitted Willow. "But Tara's really the one who's got the big job." A note of pride crept into her voice. "She organized a bunch of the local covens. She's going to link them all together to hold back anything that tries to stop you guys down there. I've mostly been research girl." She hesitated. "That's all I'll really be in this fight. I'm going to fire up my laptop and try to make sure the real witches have the information they need in case of an attack."

"And I'm just carrying around an axe hoping that I find something to wave it at," said Xander glumly. "What happened, Will? We used to always be in the middle of the big fights."

"We still are," said Willow. "It's just now, other people seem to be doing most of the fighting." She looked down. "But—it's wrong to complain, or wish we had something more important to do. Because, even if we can only do little stuff, it's still important, right? I mean, the important thing is, we contribute something. Right?"

He didn't answer.

They stood there for a long moment, staring at each other.

Xander looked at the shirt in his hands dubiously before pulling it on.

"This is not my desired fashion statement," Buffy said. Xander's head emerged from the shimmering depths of his own garment, providing him with a view of a radiant but displeased Slayer. "The silver color's not bad, but the cut is awful."

"It's meant to spare you from the unkindest cuts of all," said Spike, pulling his own shirt over his head. "Don't you even consider not wearing that."

"Yeah," said Dawn. "It's obviously meant to protect you—and Joy." She pointed to the bulge resting under the curve of the long top. Dawn herself was wearing a more slender tunic. Her hair was braided tightly and looped up like Buffy's, to be out of the way in a fight. She looked stern and beautiful, but somehow younger than usual.

Xander glanced around, trying not to feel conspicuous and ridiculous. He was wearing the largest of the shirts. He leaned as casually as he could on the handle of his battle-axe, hoping that the giggling horde of witches passing by were thinking he looked like a hero about to throw himself into the breach for the sake of humankind, and not some dorky extra from Lord of the Rings who was still half out of costume. Chain mail and blue jeans. Buffy's right. Not much of a fashion statement. On the other hand, my friends usually make fun of me even when I think I'm wearing something relatively cool, so I suppose I can make do with this.

"Hi there!" said a perky woman's voice.

Maybe one of those witches had admired him, after all. Xander turned, and his welcoming smile froze on his face.

Anya nodded at the four of them. "Good luck, guys. I couldn't let you go down there without—" She gave each of the others an awkward, sincere hug, but when she got to him, she looked away and scuffed her shoe against the cracked sidewalk. "Hi, Xander," she said again, tensely.

"Hi, Anya." His voice sounded even more nervous than hers. He noticed in an agony of self-consciousness that the other three had melted away, leaving them to have a very unwelcome private moment.

The silence threatened to stretch for the rest of the day. "It was brave of you to come to help," he said at last. "Thanks."

She looked surprised at the honesty and simplicity of this statement. It had surprised him as well.

"Well, you're brave too," she said stoutly. "To do—whatever it is that you're going to do."

He sighed and confessed his fears to her out of sheer force of habit. "Anya, I have no idea what that is."

"Well, if the shirt was enchanted for you, there must be some reason for you to be here." Her most encouraging smile shone in his direction, and she smacked him on the arm in uneasy camaraderie. "But don't worry, it's probably just something easy and lame. I'm sure Buffy and Spike will do all the hard stuff." She turned and bounced away.

Xander went around the corner of the school to look for Dawn, but instead found Giles and Tom. The men were talking with their backs to him.

"Damn," Tom said as he looked towards the remains of the football field. "They all came out of the woodwork pretty damn promptly, didn't they?"

Xander followed his gaze and saw the group of demons milling about near what had once been the 50-yard line.

"Yes," said Giles, "I asked Clem to bring them here at the last minute, to cut down on any premature spottings by the locals. Once the battle is actually engaged I'm counting on the usual Sunnydale myopia to set in." He waved at Clem, who waved back, smiling and pointing in pride at his motley collection of friends. They varied in almost every particular, from size to color to number and type of appendages. Some carried weapons, and others were covered with so many sharp edges they appeared to be weapons.

"So that's my team," said Tom weakly.

"I'm sure they'll prove a more than adequate fighting force. And it's not the first time you've seen them."

"Just the first time in the daylight and all together. They look more than ready to perform in the bar scene of a science fiction movie. I'm just not sure how they'll hold together if there's a concentrated attack."

"Well, don't let them guess that, man!" Giles seemed to be trying to infuse his voice with enthusiasm, but Xander could sympathize with Tom's doubts. He suspected that most of these demons were far more proficient at bar-crawling than fighting.

"Act like you have confidence in them," said Giles. "After all, they could have fled town and left Sunnydale to the evil demons. Just staying to fight with us proves they have some mettle."

"Not to mention scales and antennae," said Tom, stepping forward to marshal his troops.

Xander slouched back around the main building, only to stumble upon yet another private moment.

Spike stood with his back against the shattered wall of the school, holding Buffy close in his arms. Her head rested on his shoulder, and her face was grim and desperate.

"I'll go back to being strong in a minute," she said. "I can smile, and belt on that sword, and go down there. I really can. But, first, I have to ask just one more time, are you sure—?"

"It was her," said Spike. "We talked. I used her name. It couldn't have been anyone else." His gaze went unfocused for a moment with an apparent effort of memory. "She told me I worry too much. Told me to listen to her."

Xander backed away, confused. He wasn't sure who they were talking about, but he had enough grace to realize that he had no right to eavesdrop.

His careless trajectory brought him into contact with Dawn at last. He almost fell over her as she was carefully slipping the box containing the mystical Lock into a sturdy backpack.

"Watch out, will you!" she said in annoyance, catching the pack up before it could thump on the ground. She bent over to check the straps.

"So," he said weakly. Maybe he could have a big emotional before-the-battle scene at last? One that didn't fall flat or seem to be all about someone else's destiny? He waited for her to say something, anything. Even tears and teenaged drama would be welcome at this point.

"So," she said in a matter-of-fact voice, as she pulled the pack onto her back. "Let's do this thing." Buffy and Spike appeared behind her.

Xander sighed and picked up his sturdy, unmagical axe.

Xander stared down into the black hole of the Hellmouth. He shifted uneasily, watching where he put his feet. There were still a few rotted bits of mayor-meat scattered over the floor of what had been the school library. Well, mostly just mayor scales by now, but still something he wanted to avoid.

"Well?" he asked nervously. "Are we waiting for anything in particular?"

As if in response, there was a huge roar from below, and the ground began to shake. Spike reached out and pulled Xander away from the opening, dragging him back until they stood next to Buffy and Dawn by what had once been an outside wall and was now a crumbling heap of masonry.

"Wait for it," said Buffy tersely.

Before Xander could ask, "Wait for what?" the demon erupted from the Hellmouth. He remembered the many-headed thing that had emerged when the Master had risen, and again when the Sisterhood of Jhe had tried to open the mouth almost two years later. At first he thought that was what he was seeing, but then he realized that this demon was all neck. And only one neck. One very long, horrifyingly thick, hideously slimy, putridly grey neck.

He looked more closely, and saw that it might have a head after all, but it was eyeless, with a single orifice that Xander had to assume was an obscene mouth.

The thing kept rising from the maw of the Hellmouth, and he decided that it was a huge snake or worm, thrashing around in anger or distress at its new surroundings. He grasped the handle of his axe and prepared to fight, but he was pulled away again, this time by Buffy.

"Let it go," she said, watching the thing undulate down the hallway and towards the daylight.

"It'll attack the others!" said Xander.

"Don't worry about it," said Dawn calmly. "Giles knows what to do. He's prepared. Fighting that worm is not your job."

Buffy had turned away from the Hellmouth to find an anchor for her rappelling harness. Spike's eyes followed her.

"I go first, love," he said. "No arguments."

Xander watched her nod reluctantly, his mind still on the thing that had emerged from the hole they were about to descend. But it wasn't the consideration that much worse must be waiting below that bothered him the most. It wasn't even the thought that Giles, Willow and the others were about to encounter the first monster of the day. Everyone else knows what job to do. I could do my job, I'm sure, if only I could figure out what it is.

Willow slipped onto a bench next to Lavender and Thyme, watching the two little girls argue as they built a virtual amusement park on the laptop. "We need more garbage cans and janitors. I don't care how cool a ride you build, no one will go on it if the place is a dump!" A roar from outside distracted them momentarily.

"Must be that worm thing, finally," said Lavender calmly. She turned to Willow and pointed at the computer. "Should we give this back to you?"

Willow looked at the other members of the coven, who were coming together in a sunlit circle just outside the tent. Tara stepped quietly into their midst, taking Sage's hand in her right and that of one of the half-demon witches in her left. Tara would provide a link to the other covens who were also gathering in circles around the school.

All fourteen witches in the main circle dropped their eyes to the ground, moving into a trance. They were at work now, with no thought for three lonely figures lurking in the depths of the tent beside them.

"It's okay, honey," said Willow. "I don't think there's anything for me to do right now anyway." She heard the worm roar again, but couldn't work up the curiosity to go outside and watch what was happening there.

Spike landed at the bottom of the hole first, and then guided Xander, Dawn and Buffy to the ground. Xander looked around uneasily, trying to make out the dimensions of the cavern in the wavering light of the lamps they wore on their helmets—another accessory that Buffy had pretended irked her fashion sense.

"This way," said Spike, after using a powerful flashlight to scan their surroundings.

"Yay," said Xander hollowly. "Another tunnel."

"And it goes down," said Dawn unenthusiastically.

"We are headed into hell," Spike pointed out. He aimed his flashlight on the ground and began to pick his way over debris.

"You know, this whole 'hell belongs way down there somewhere' sounds like pretty hokey theology to me," said Dawn.

"Spike, are you sure you know where we're going?" asked Xander. "Ow!" He glared at the rock he had just tripped over. "This is the Hellmouth itself. Even you've never prowled around here before."

"Yeah, I'm sure. I read up on it," said Spike. "Dante worked out the basic geography. Messed around with it big time, of course. Put all the people he didn't like into the various circles and made up nasty punishments for them. Not a bad notion, but confused the issue a bit."

"Dante? You mean the guy in Clerks?" asked Xander, and then said, "What?" as the other three stopped to stare at him in disbelief.

"Different chap," said Spike, almost patiently.

"Yeah," said Buffy. "Somehow I don't think the guy who truly understood hell was some dork who had to deal with Jay and Silent Bob—wait a minute." She frowned. "I suppose you could make a case for the Quickie Mart being the modern equivalent of one of the circles of hell."

"That movie is gross," said Dawn. "I mean, ick, that girl had sex with a dead g—" She stopped and glanced guiltily at Buffy and Spike.

Spike looked ready to explode. "Excuse me. This ex-dead guy would like to return the discussion to reality. We're not in New Jersey! This is an even deeper level of hell, and I spent the past few months pouring over a dozen scrolls and the bloody Inferno in the sodding original Italian with fifty dictionaries piled up beside me, trying to figure all this out." The volume of his voice increased, and his final statement echoed against the surrounding rock. "So pay attention here!"

"Yes, sir," said Dawn, saluting.

"Bugger this! Who decided I should be the grown-up on this expedition?"

Xander gaped at Spike. Damned if the ex-vampire didn't suddenly sound like the rational adult among them. The strangest things happen in Sunnydale.

Buffy linked her arm through Spike's and smiled apologetically. "Well, you're the one who knows the rules of this game. I'm just the muscle this time. And we're nervous and blowing off a little steam. Sorry, William, we'll be good and listen to you now." She looked into the tunnel and smirked in spite of her words and their situation. "We don't want to risk you telling us all to go to hell."

"Oh, that's funny, that is," said Spike. "Proud of that, are you?" But he sounded somewhat mollified.

"I wonder how they're managing up there," said Dawn, casting her eyes upwards as she followed the other two.

Xander looked up at the rocky ceiling above his head, and spared a thought for the others, battling that huge worm thing. He shivered.

Giles sighed at the shrieks and wails that greeted the exodus of the worm from the school. Everyone on the grounds should have been prepared for its appearance; he had been careful to disseminate information on the next part of the plan. His instructions had been detailed and specific. All this fuss was demoralizing to troops so early in a battle, and it certainly was not necessary.

The worm was now stretched out from the doorway almost to the street, a huge being almost rivaling the ascended Mayor Wilkins in size.

"Get your weapons, men," called Giles to his crew, leading the way towards the thing's snaky length. He glanced at them and amended his words. "And women. And demons."

"Damn!" Giles turned to see Tom standing next to him. The man was white-faced and shaking. "We're supposed to take that thing down?"

Giles bent and picked up a good-sized rock and tossed it at the creature. It snatched the stone deftly in its jaws and swallowed it in one gulp. The demon opened its mouth again and roared noisily. Giles tossed a larger rock, and the monster chewed for a moment this time before letting the missile slide down its gullet.

"Uh," said Tom, bracing himself and raising the sword he held. "I don't think that the rocks are bothering it. In fact, they may be making it mad."

"Nonsense," said Giles. "It's enjoying them. Just like a dog that's been tossed a biscuit."

Tom stared at him. "You're feeding it? I thought we were supposed to hack it to bits."

It was Giles' turn to look surprised. "Yes, of course, but that was part of the bargain."

"What bargain?"

"Didn't you read the footnotes in my memo, man? The worm was called by the Seely Coven as part of a spell to prepare the path to the hellmouth. It formed itself out of a number of smaller rock eaters and has spent the past several months rerouting the tunnels under Sunnydale and undermining portions of the town."

"And this is a good thing?" Tom was still gazing incredulously at the Watcher.

Giles lobbed a few more stones into the air with casual zest. "Well, if the Hellmouth is to sink deeper into the earth, it is."

"And this creature? Why is it out here now?"

"Because it doesn't particularly enjoy being a giant worm. It would much prefer to be a lot of smaller worms. So—" Giles lifted his broadsword.

"You have got to be kidding," said Tom.

"Would you prefer to really make it angry?" said Giles. "The ladies of the coven keep their promises; that's the only reason they were able to assemble this army." He shook his head. He really wished that people would learn to read his memos more carefully.

"Okay," said Xander. "The tombs with all the flames and the demons coming out of them—that I could deal with. Almost homey, and it gave me a chance to break in the battle axe. And the river of boiling blood—okay, not my cup of tea, but at least we found a ford. But how the hell are we going to get past that?"

The bedraggled quartet of heroes stared gloomily out into the rain of fire and brimstone that blocked the way to the next passage.

The sight of their first challenge allowing itself to be hacked to pieces without argument, and having the resulting bits scurry off into the underbrush cheered the defenders considerably. Even a sortie by a few assorted demons who were trying to attack the witches' tents failed to dampen morale. Clem's crew took down a Polgara with surprising efficiency, and some of the humans managed to hack the smaller demons to pieces. One of the defenders was hurt before the others found a silver blade to stab the lone Fyarl, but the injuries weren't serious, and the wounded hero seemed quite proud of himself as he was being patched up in the ambulance.

"In fact, I wish they'd take it more seriously," said Giles, talking to Tom after the demons had been beaten back. He had set up a command post near the old entrance to the school and was busily directing the battle from there.

Tom nodded agreement. "They don't seem to realize that the fact that those demons showed up means that the dark forces of Sunnydale have figured out what Buffy is trying to do. There'll be more to follow as the word spreads. They won't want to let loose of access to all the power that spills out of the Hellmouth."

"Wizards," said Anya tersely. He looked down to see her standing by his side, and the grimness of her expression rendered further analysis unnecessary. "We're screwed," she said anyway. "I just spotted them from the roof of the school. Baalphegorians. Really nasty wizards. I wonder if they teleported here? They must have read some tea leaves or something and seen what we were trying to do. They almost never leave Machu Picchu."

"What can they do?" asked Tom.

"If they're truly Baalphegorians—" began Giles, and hastened to add after a look at the ex-vengeance demon's face, "—and if Anya says they are, they must be—they are rumored to be able to move the earth, moon, and stars if they are willing to summon all the forces at their command. Since they've taken the trouble to travel here, we have to assume they're planning to give their all to this fight."

"Well, looks like the chances of precipitation are about 100 percent today," quipped Xander nervously. "And what does that do to our chances of making any progress?"

The four of them stared at the rain of fire and molten rock that was blocking their path down to the next level of hell. After a minute or two during which no one made any useful suggestions, Buffy and Spike exchanged glances and looked at Dawn. "Honey, I think you're up sooner than we anticipated," said Buffy apologetically.

Dawn nodded, her face growing pale. She slipped the backpack off and knelt to remove its contents. "You'll need to touch me when I give the word," she said. "I'm going to try to do this fast. It tires me out, and—well, I'm not always sure I can get back out exactly where I need to be." She looked out at the rain of fire blocking their way.

"Get back out of what?" asked Xander nervously.

"Alternate dimension," said Dawn tightly. "It's what I do, remember? Shift dimensions? The reason why we're here and all that. Now hang on tight, and hope the weather's nicer when I bring us back to this reality."

"What is that?" asked Tom, running up with a sword in his hand.

Giles and Anya were already staring up at the sky. "It's the moon," she said. "The Baalphegorians have managed to move the moon, or at least its shadow, and they're trying to create an eclipse."

"They're moving the shadow?" demanded Tom. "How?"

"I don't know!" Anya snapped in irritation. "I was into vengeance, not sound and light shows. But if we get darkness at noon, even more bad things will come up to attack us. There's a reason Buffy and Spike chose daylight for an assault, you know. Even they weren't dumb enough to send out engraved invitations to everything that goes bump in the night."

"Have your group pull back," said Giles to Tom. "We need to make sure we have enough fighters on their feet to guard the perimeter." He looked up at the sky. "It will be more difficult in this darkness."

"Yeah, I would say the fact that a couple of hundred vamps just realized they can join the party is going to make our job a bit more difficult," said Tom. He wiped his face with a handkerchief and cast a worried glance towards the street, where several people huddled around the lone ambulance. "And no one else can get through the battle lines to help us. She—the EMTs that came this morning are doing what they can for the wounded, but they're about to be overwhelmed. And we can only fall back so far. What about the witches? They don't seem to be doing much."

"They're joining forces to break the Baalphegorians' spell," said Willow, who had come up behind him quietly. "You have to do everything you can to let them hold their circles and maintain trance."

"That may not be for very long," said Tom, dropping his voice so that it would not be heard by any other passers-by.

"Please, do what you can," said Willow. She, too, glanced back at the ambulance. "I just took Basil over there. He collapsed in the circle a little while ago. Hawthorne took his place. If any more witches fall, little girls will be taking their place." Her voice became more intense. "Don't you dare think the covens aren't doing anything!" She turned on her heel and left them.

Anya, oblivious to this small drama, was busy scanning the sky. "There's more to come. With this darkness, it won't just be vampires. We'll have every other photophobic demon in Sunnydale on top of us as well." She looked over at the now-battered tents. "Damn! Look at that!"

A dozen ghostly figures with huge grey wings were swooping down, their obvious intent to land on the roof of the school. They were driven back by a fusillade of arrows from the general direction of the old football field.

"Mothmen!" said Anya in disgust. "And they'll come around again—no sense when it comes to going back to a flame or the attack. There's a way to deal with them, though— I wonder if Saffron brought any—?" She ran over to the tent where the witches had stored their supplies.

"Welcome to the Inferno," said Dawn, her voice cheerful but tired. "You may unfasten your seatbelts, ladies and gentlemen. We have successfully touched down at our destination, the lovely eighth circle of hell, which features demons with their heads on backwards that like to snap their nasty looking whips. I should have picked Indiana Jones for your in-flight movie. The current temperature is bone chilling cold with zero precipitation, not as nice as Cancun, but a definite improvement on our starting point." She swayed slightly.

"Keep her safe," said Buffy, shoving her sister into Xander's arms before she went to join Spike in battling the latest set of demons.

Xander was too busy letting his stomach settle back into the right dimension to complain about being left out of this fight.

"Psst! Jonathan! I need you!"

Jonathan, who had been running towards the remains of the main building, stopped to stare at Anya in astonishment. "Me?" he asked in surprise that the ex-vengeance demon would deign to speak with him. "Do you want me to take a message to Giles?"

"No, it's you I need." She pulled him down beside her behind a makeshift barricade composed of what had been a pickup truck earlier in the day. Its battered chassis was lying on its side in the street, where some defenders had used it a half-hour ago to block the progress of a pack of demons on motorcycles.

Anya peeked her head up briefly and pointed down the road. "See that bunch of demons down there? The ones that look like they're getting ready to attack?"

Jonathan peeked too, then wished he hadn't. "Yeah," he said, wrapping his arms around his stomach as if he were afraid it would suddenly grow legs and decide to run away. "What do you think I can do to them?"

"Scare them silly, silly," said Anya. She slapped him on the arm. "Come on, buck up, and trust me. I know what to do here!"

"Then why don't you do it yourself?"

"Because I need an illusion, and I'm all about reality these days."

"You know how to scare them?" Jonathan gaped at her. "But they're not even all the same kind of demon!"

"No, but they're all friends. They've been hanging out together for decades. Kind of a fun crowd, actually. I ran with them a bit a few decades back, but D'Hoffyrn made me stop. Said they were a bad influence."

"What could be a bad influence on a vengeance demon?"

"Well, these guys use Tiemma." She saw his confused look and rushed to explain. "It's kind of like demon hashish. Makes you silly, and you lose your focus. You start to just hang out, eat too much, giggle a lot. D'Hoffryn hated that. He liked me sharp as a tack, he said. Well, as sharp as a whole wall full of nails ready to slam into some poor cheating loser. Never mind that. The important thing is, Tiemma gives you bad hallucinations sometimes." She shivered. "Ones you can never forget."

"So?" demanded Jonathan.

"So, back when I was still hanging out with them, we got high and went to the movies one night. Now, listen carefully, because I'm not sticking around while you do this. For one thing, I've got to finish taking care of the Mothmen, and for another, there's only so much a girl can take, even when's she's all psyched up for a battle—"

"Well," said Dawn, "now at least we know what these shirts were for." She still looked very tired for someone about to undertake the task of closing a Hellmouth, but she had perked up a little during the last few hundred yards of their descent.

"Yeah," said Xander, slipping his hand under her arm to offer her some of his strength. "I'm going to keep mine around for the next time I find myself in a nest of vipers intent on biting me in the chest."

"What would have happened if they had bitten us?" asked Buffy, shoving a lock of dirty hair away from her even dirtier face. "They didn't seem to be trying to kill us."

"They would have changed you into one of them," said Spike.

"Oh, great," she said. "Thanks for not letting me know about that until we'd killed them all. Spending eternity as a viper? Not my fantasy of the month."

Xander shivered. Up until this moment, his worst fear had been that he and his friends would be killed by the monsters down here. It hadn't previously occurred to him that they could become monsters themselves.

Willow had long since abandoned any pretense of calm. She knew that she should have tried to make everything seem normal for the children, but after Basil's collapse, it seemed pointless. Lavender and Thyme stood on either side of her, and the three of them watched Tara and the coven obsessively, scanning each face in turn for signs of pain or distress. Each girl had slipped a hand into one of Willow's at some point in the past few minutes, and their grips were tight and damp with fear.

Willow had thought it would be Sage who would break next. She was the oldest and had been under the most stress. But the High Priestess stood firm, showing no more strain than the younger witches of her family. It was Saffron who shuddered at one point, making Willow catch her breath. She stared at her teacher fearfully for some minutes, so focused on that one figure that it took her a half-second to realize what had happened when the chain broke elsewhere.

One of the part-demon witches had fallen to the floor and was struggling to rise. Willow rushed to her and tried to help her up, but it was clear that the woman was disoriented and incapable, pushed beyond her level of endurance. Willow looked up and around the circle, but the other witches were still in trance, even Tara and Sage unable to offer even a flicker of help or reassurance.

Willow looked back at the gap in the circle and saw Lavender, her face white and intense, walking calmly up to take the vacant spot. "No!" she cried.

She didn't exactly make a decision; the little girl's expression gave her no choice. She thrust the demon witch's body into Lavender's arms, shouting, "run for the EMTs," to Thyme.

"But—" said Lavender, struggling to support the adult's body and looking at the circle. The gap in the power connecting the witches was making the others sway with obvious stress. Tara's eyelids began to shiver, as if she were about to emerge from trance. "I have to—"

"No," said Willow. "Not you." She stepped forward and grasped Tara's hand. Her eyes went black as the power surged up strong and steady again around the circle.

"Wow," said Dawn.

"Yeah," agreed Xander. "Like she said."

"Is this it?" asked Buffy. "How many levels have we gone down?"

"Nine," said Spike. "Dante was right about that, and a few other scattered facts. I wish he'd been a bit more accurate in his description of some of the other fun and jollification we encountered."

"Poetic license maybe," said Buffy. "Didn't want to scare his readers too much." All the laughter had faded from her face somewhere around the fifth level. Her hair was escaping from its braids, and there were smears of blood and dirt on her cheek and over her clothes. Her jeans were torn open just below the knee, and she had tied a makeshift bandage around a gash on her calf. The others were similarly battered, and equally aware that the real fight had not yet begun.

Their voices echoed throughout the immense cavern. Their flashlights were barely sufficient to illuminate one small corner of it. Carefully, they picked their way around rocks and debris, automatically seeking the center. It was a long way to travel, and they were silent for several minutes.

"It seems bigger than it should be," said Xander at last. "There shouldn't be this much space down here." He shook his head. "That doesn't make sense. It's just a feeling—"

"No, you're right. But space doesn't matter here," said Dawn. "This place can be bigger on the inside than the outside because it's so empty."

"Oh," said Xander. "Huh?"

"It's made of evil," said Spike. "It comes from the void. The emptiness of things that are formed by the absence of good. Darkness, death, hate, fear."

Dawn nodded. "That's why it breeds the monsters that grow where hope is gone but consciousness remains."

"That's enough, you two," said Xander, looking from Dawn to Spike. "I can handle fighting demons, but not this creepy talk. Let's just say it's big, and leave it at that."

"He's right," said Buffy. "We need to do this, and not have a philosophical discussion." She glared at her husband and sister. "Besides, you're wigging me out."

"Sorry," muttered Dawn.

Spike grinned and lifted his sword. He used the tip to point at a spot on the floor. "I think that's where you need to set up operations, Bit."

"Are you sure?" asked Buffy.

Spike's boots scuffed the dirt away from the stone beneath. In contrast to the rest of the cavern, that one place was smooth and glittered slightly as the beam from his flashlight reflected off it. On the surface was etched the image of a creature with three snarling heads. "I'm sure," he said.

Dawn pulled off her backpack and knelt down to set its contents on the ground. She looked up at the others, her face intent. "Just—no one touch me while I'm doing this, okay? I've got to do this thing solo."

"Don't worry, Dawn," said Buffy, drawing her sword. "We know what to do. Spike and I are here to guard your back."

"What the—?" Clem stared over his shoulder at the strange creature making its way down the street.

The demon that had been fighting beside him put down its pike and stared. Its antennae swiveled in shock. "That's—that's—"

"Yeah," said Clem. "You know, some things you just never expect see in the real world. It's just not right."

"I didn't think it was real," said his friend. "I always supposed it was just a movie thing. I guess you learn something every day."

Behind the barricade, Tom skidded up behind Jonathan and gaped at the creature that was apparently hopping down the street away from them. A half-dozen assorted demons were running away from it, screaming in horror. "Killer Rabbit?" Tom asked incredulously.

Jonathan tried to shrug without breaking concentration. "Anya said the demons leading that attack had a bad experience while watching Monty Python and the Holy Grail. I suppose I can get that. The flying monkeys from The Wizard of Oz do the same thing to me."

"Whatever works, I guess," said Tom. "Although I would have expected the Spanish Inquisition."

Jonathan glared at him.

"Well, someone had to say it," said Tom. He looked behind him. "We could use a few more things that work right now. What's that?" he asked, as flares lit up the sky.

"Camphor in the bazookas, I think," said Jonathan. "More of Anya's ideas. She thought it would get rid of the Mothmen, so she went back to the weapons cache to see what she could do from there. Besides, I'm pretty sure she didn't want to be out on the street where she could see that Killer Rabbit."

Tom shook his head as he went back to check in with Giles. Anya's ploys aside, the battle was not going well for their side. The darkness had exponentially increased the number of demons that could join the assault against them. Vampires were the worst of it, but many other creatures were far more comfortable in the night than the day. The blackness rumbled with the battle cries of creatures with scales and claws, who fought with the determined rage of animals whose territory had been invaded. Casualties were mounting, and the defenders' lines were being steadily pushed back towards the school building. "This is hell," Tom said quietly as he stepped into the foyer of the old school.

"No," said Giles. "Hell is down there, where Buffy and the others are. We're just dealing with the overflow." He blinked.

It was as if someone had flicked on a light switch. There was no gradual change, no slow movement of a shadow away from the sun to reveal its luminescence. It was simply broad daylight again, as if the pseudo-eclipse had never existed.

"The witches," cried Giles enthusiastically. "The covens have broken the wizards' spell!"

From just beyond the barricades, they heard dozens of howls of anguish, which cut off abruptly. A moment later, more joyous cries rose up from the ranks of the defenders.

"Ah, I love the screams of spontaneously-combusting vamps in the morning," said Tom, a huge smile dawning on his face.

Xander should have known that they couldn't get through this fight without the thing with all the heads coming after them. Or, at least, after Dawn. The only reason it was interested in the rest of them was that they kept throwing themselves between the girl and its jaws.

"The myths said it had three heads and confused it with a dog!" shouted Spike. "But it's really a hydra. It's grown more heads with each battle."

Xander swung his axe and lopped one head off, then watched in horror as two grew in its place.

"That won't work," yelled Spike again.

Buffy moved in, flashing her sword as she leapt past, barely managing to avoid the snatching jaws. She also removed another head before Xander could shout out his own warning.

The return of sunlight threw the demons into disarray, and there was a lull in the battle. "The sunlight didn't dust all the vampires," reported Tom. "I don't know if they were warned or what, but Clem told me that a few dozen of them broke through our ranks and raced for the hellmouth just before the lights came back on."

"Damn. Keeping the demons away from the hellmouth is our first priority!" said Giles, slumping against the wall of the school and rubbing his eyes. "Buffy and the others have enough to deal with down there without the Sunnydale demons sending in reinforcements. We've got to keep up the defenses. Don't let anyone assume the battle is over. There are still plenty of demons that can be dangerous in daylight, and we have to guard the covens at all costs. I don't know where the witches are getting all that power from, but we must do everything we can to protect them so that they can protect us."

Xander cried out as Buffy lopped off one of the hydra's heads. But to his astonishment, nothing grew back where she had wounded the creature.

"How come she gets to be the decapitation queen?" he said, stabbing his axe at the creature's body, a hard target to reach because it was protected by so many fierce heads on long, far-reaching necks.

"Not just her!" Spike's voice sang with the pleasure of the fight as he shoved Xander aside and lopped off another head before it could sink its teeth into them.

Xander dropped his axe and lay on the ground, gasping with the force of his fall. He watched Buffy and Spike do battle with the creature, and suddenly understood. "It's the swords. You two have magic swords and I—don't."

He looked away from the battle with the hydra to where Dawn was huddled over the glowing red key. She was deep in trance and as far from him as if he had never descended into the hellmouth to try to be her protector.

Xander slouched to his feet, retreated to a rocky corner, and did the only thing he could do. He watched.

Willow had no idea that she could produce this much power. Without Tara's constant efforts to channel it out and away to where it was needed most, it would have been impossible. The force would have ripped her to shreds, psychically and physically. But now, she was able to pull the magic from whatever invisible resource it was her talent to tap and pass it on in a steady stream to the woman who was clutching her hand so fiercely.

Willow didn't have to worry about how the power would be used; there were no decisions for her to make or concerns about retaining control. She had complete trust in Tara, and could focus all her strength on producing the power. Was this what I was born to do? Was this why I lost control so often? My powers are too strong for one person, but now, at this moment, I am more than just Willow—and it is good.

Xander was jerked out of his snit by the sound of someone or something tripping over a stone. He rose to his feet, reaching for his axe. Dark figures emerged from behind the rocks at the bottom of the cavern.

"Vampires," said Xander grimly. "At last, something I know how to kill." His words sounded hollow even to him. There were more than a dozen of them. "So," he said conversationally, "how did you guys make it past the rain of fire?"

Willow was still gasping for breath.

"Rest, honey," said a beloved voice. "You deserve it. You lifted the eclipse."

"No," panted Willow. "You did it. You and the others. I just found the power." She lay quietly, realizing that the others had left the tent, muttering about going to check on Basil and the other fallen witch.

Willow was about to turn and look up at Tara, but thought better of it. Best not to call attention to the fact that her head was pillowed against Tara's breasts, and that Tara's arms were warm around her. If her gesture pointed those things out, they might go away, and she wanted this embrace to go on as long as possible. Even if Tara was only comforting her because Willow was shocky, and tired, and obviously in need of reassurance.

Tara spoke at last. "You did good, sweetie," she said.

Willow replied carefully. "Too bad we didn't have that trick for stopping that other eclipse back when the Mayor was ascending. Instead of having to fight all those vampires, we could have just pushed the moon back out of the way and watched them fry." She heard wistfulness creep into her voice. "But, of course, I didn't know you then, so we couldn't do it. We weren't on a team together then, I mean."

"Too bad," said Tara. "We made a good team today."

Willow froze, barely daring to breathe in the circle of Tara's arms. She doesn't mean what you want her to mean. Then her commonsense stopped working entirely. She just concentrated on wanting this moment to go on forever.

It was shattered almost immediately.

Xander never did get an explanation for how the vampires had made the trip so quickly. Either the Hellmouth was friendlier to vampires than to humans, or there was a short cut somewhere that Dante guy had failed to mention. Xander was too busy worrying about what would happen if they reached Dawn to care how they'd gotten there.

Two vampires, faster than the others, ran towards him, their obvious goal to sweep past him and reach the Key and the Lock.

There was no way Xander had the strength and speed to keep this small army away from Dawn. He swung his axe desperately, decapitating the smaller creature in front of him, but realizing in despair that the larger one was racing around him and towards her.

There was a wild roar, and another animal joined the fray. It took Xander's terrorized mind a moment to realize that this thing with fangs and sword was not another enemy. The big vamp dissolved into dust. The other attackers took an involuntary step back, almost in unison, as they got their first glimpse of a Spike in game face.

Spike roared again and fell on the vampires, swinging his sword in an immense, threatening arc. Xander looked over his shoulder, fearful that Buffy, left to fight alone, would be overwhelmed by the hydra. But that creature was moving more slowly, and he realized it was dying. Most of its heads had been severed and were lying beside the bleeding necks that snaked along the floor, their effluence washing Dawn's feet and legs in a river of blood. Only three or four sets of the hydra's jaws still rose to do battle with Buffy's sword, which was moving so quickly that Xander could only distinguish a pattern of light flashing through the darkness of the cavern.

He turned to offer what assistance he could to Spike, but staggered as the ground shook beneath him. The whole cavern shuddered, and the hydra's remaining heads gave a howl of despair that increased the vibrations to an almost unbearable level. Xander swung around to look at Dawn, and saw her sway slightly, then steady. She was still staring into the box, but now the huge red crystal was glowing so brightly he couldn't imagine how she could bear to look at it. "She did it," he muttered. "She's set the Lock."

The cavern shuddered again. "She's set the Lock," he repeated, this time in dismay. "And this whole place is about to descend into the center of the earth." He stared at Dawn, but she showed no signs of coming out of her trance. Her attention was still riveted on the crystal. He glanced at Buffy, who had just managed to slice off another of the hydra's heads. She looked like an angel guarding the gates of heaven, instead of someone who was about to be plummeted into hell. She had never seemed less human or more unapproachable.

"Buffy!" he called desperately, knowing even as he did so that there would be no response.

Xander turned, desperately seeking someone to take charge. Spike was continuing to attack the vampires, in spite of the fact that they had given up their own efforts at assault and were clearly trying to find some means to escape the cavern. One climbed up on a rock and tried to leap for the passage out, but was skewered on Spike's sword, tossed to the ground, and beheaded before he could scream.

"Gotta get out of here," muttered Xander, rapidly considering options for making this point to his companions. He decided against pitching his argument to either of the two warriors so consumed by passion for battle that he could not get near their bright, flashing swords. He ran instead to Dawn's side. Blinking away from the brightness of the crystal, he called her name. She reacted not at all. Desperately, he reached out to shake her by the shoulder.

"Something's wrong," said Willow, shifting in Tara's arms.

"What?" Alarmed, Tara looked around. "What is it, sweetie?"

"Not up here," said Willow. She wanted so much to just rest where she was and believe that everything would be all right, but her entire body was suddenly consumed with gut-wrenching terror. "It's down there. With Buffy and the others. They're trapped."

"Can you hear them?" asked Tara. She pulled back, her eyes searching Willow's face.

"No," said Willow. "That's how I know something is wrong. I felt something shift, something enormous, and when I tried— Tara, I can't hear any of them except for a faint whisper from Xander. And he's terrified."

“Casualties?” asked Giles.

Sage, who had been about to hurry past him, turned, focusing on his face with an effort. “Among my witches? Several from the other covens, but no fatalities. Corianna collapsed, but they think it's simple exhaustion. My brother Basil is in the ambulance. His heart was too weak to handle one of the blasts.”

“Will he—?”

“We don’t know yet. Two of my daughters are with him right now, and your Willow has taken her place among our defenders. What about your fighters?”

“We’ve lost several demons, but I’m not sure how many are dead. In some species, it's hard to tell.”

“There is something we must do before the next assault,” said Sage, moving towards the back of one of the smaller tents.

“What’s that?” asked Giles as he followed her, his face tensing in anticipation of some new and difficult labor.

Sage hefted a picnic cooler onto a table and lifted the lid. “Feed as many people as we can convince to eat. We’ve been fighting for hours. I’ve sent Hawthorne and Laurel around with Gatorade, and Clem is passing out dried rats and carbonated beetle blood.”

“Oh,” said Giles. “Quite right. It’s easy to forget these things during an adrenaline rush.” He paused. “I hope Buffy and the others are making progress.”

Sage was heaping sandwiches onto a plate. "Hand me that box of condiments, will you?" Her gaze went unfocused for a moment. "Dawn has closed the Hellmouth. And Buffy and Spike are beating back its guardians." She saw his face and shrugged. "Let's just say that a part of my consciousness is able to take on the role of embedded reporter."

Giles accepted a sandwich, bit into it, and swallowed, his mind barely registering the impromptu meal. "They've done it? Really done it? And Xander? Is he all right?"

"Yes and no." She shrugged again. "I know, I'm being enigmatic and annoying. But clairvoyance is a misnomer for my talent. As far as Xander's concerned, I don't see all that clearly. I do know that he isn't there to fulfill the prophecy about the Hellmouth. He's there for the others. And for the future."

Giles