“Turning and turning in the widening gyre/The falcon cannot hear the falconer;/Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;/Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,/The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere/The ceremony of innocence is drowned;/The best lack all conviction, while the worst/Are full of passionate intensity…now I know/That twenty centuries of stony sleep/Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,/And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,/Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?” ~William Butler Yeats, “The Second Coming”

Wesley hadn’t liked the idea of leaving Tara to face her family on her own. He knew that she was capable of handling the confrontation; that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that he knew exactly how upsetting facing relatives could be.

He wasn’t willing to let someone he cared about go through that alone.

Sitting in a corner of the restaurant, he watched as Tara pushed food around on her plate. Her father was saying something, and she was staring at the table, not meeting his eyes. Wesley wished he could get closer without giving the game away, but that would be impossible.

“I didn’t realize that spying was your new occupation.” Willow sat down across from him. “I thought that Tara made it clear that she wanted to do this on her own.”

“She did, but that doesn’t mean she shouldn’t have backup.” Wesley  took a bite of his sandwich. “And I was hungry.”

“Which is why you didn’t invite me to eat with you.” Willow sounded amused, rather than upset. She smiled up at the waitress who had walked over to their table. “Could I get a Pepsi, please?”

“Willow—”

“She knows you’re here, you know.”

Wesley glanced over at Tara’s table inadvertently. This time, she met his gaze, but her eyes slid right past him, giving no indication that she knew he was there.

“Is she going to be alright?” Wesley asked.

Willow nodded. “I think so. She has to do this, Wes. You know how it is.”

He didn’t reply, but he knew. Wesley knew all too well.

~~~~~

Spike paced the length of his living room, ignoring the monk who sat on his couch, sipping a glass of water. He wanted to go out and find Buffy, had almost left to do just that twice, but each time Brother Luka had convinced him to wait.

“You’ll be safe enough here,” Spike finally said. “I need to find Buffy.”

“Please, you must not. The Beast will try to destroy you.”

“‘Try’ being the operative word in that statement.” Spike headed for the front door, not caring what arguments might be brought up next. He wanted nothing more than to find Buffy and make sure she was safe.

Just as he put his hand on the doorknob, the door swung open and Buffy stumbled inside. Spike caught her before she hit the floor. “Luv?”

“I’m okay,” she managed to gasp out. “But I want to know what that bitch is.”

Spike swept her up in his arms, ignoring her protests and orders to put her down. “Move.”

Brother Luka, possibly sensing the danger of disobedience, moved from his spot on the couch to the recliner.

“Spike, really, I’m fine. I’m just a little bruised. It’s no big deal.”

“It looks like a big deal, so humor me.” He tipped up her chin, noting the gash on one cheek and the bruise on the same side of her jaw. “Honestly now, how badly were you hurt?”

“Just a little bruised up,” she promised. “But I really want to know who that was.”

They both turned to look at Brother Luka, who appeared to be more than a little nervous.  “It was the Beast, our enemy.”

“‘Our’ enemy?” Buffy asked. “Because I’m pretty sure you’re the one she was chasing.”

“She wants the Key, to tear down the walls between the worlds and to go home.”

“Shit.” Buffy’s assessment of the situation perfectly matched Spike’s. He could hear the single word clearly from the kitchen, where he’d gone to get an icepack for her bruises. “She’s after Dawn.”

“She is.”

“And what exactly is Dawn?” Spike asked, handing Buffy the icepack.

“Human,” Luka said with assurance. “She is now completely human.”

“And what was the plan?” Buffy asked. “Slip her into our lives?”

“Your memories—they were to include a sister. No one was to know that she was the Key. You would protect her.” Luka looked from Buffy to Spike earnestly. “You would protect a human girl.”

“We’d protect an artifact when it means preventing the apocalypse.” Spike sat down next to Buffy. “What happened? Dawn doesn’t remember anything more than pieces, and she’s a total stranger to us.”

“The Beast interrupted our spell. It was not complete. We had created the girl, but not the place for her to go.”

“Can you finish it?” Buffy asked.

Spike stared at her. “You want him to mess with our memories?”

“What about Dawn?” Buffy moved the icepack from her jaw. “She’s completely messed up, or she’s likely to be. It would be a lot easier if she—and we—had those memories.”

“True enough.” Spike turned towards the monk. “Can you do it?”

Luka shook his head. “I do not know. I wasn’t responsible for the spell; I was only support.”

“But do you know where you could find the information?”

“I managed to salvage books—not many. I do not know which ones we would need, but—”

“Good enough,” Buffy said. “We’ll call the others and get the research started. If we can help Dawn out this way, it’ll be worth it.”

Spike still wasn’t sure how he felt about letting someone alter his memories, but he had to admit that Buffy had a point. It would make things easier for Dawn if it could be done, and it would cause their makeshift story to be unnecessary.

But he still didn’t like the idea of anyone poking around his memories.

~~~~~

Tara hadn’t been thrilled with the idea of meeting her father for dinner, not after her confrontation with Beth. She didn’t think it could possibly end well, even though she knew that she was capable of defending herself.

To say that dinner was tense was an understatement, and she had been absurdly grateful to see Wesley wander in with an innocent expression on his face. She’d wanted to be angry; she had told him that she would be fine on her own.

But it was still really good to see him.

Her father waited until they were leaving the restaurant before saying what he’d wanted to say when coming to Sunnydale. “You will be coming home with us, young lady. You belong with your family.”

“You’re not my family.” Her voice was stronger than she’d expected; she hadn’t stuttered, which was a victory in and of itself, considering that fear of him had caused her to nearly lose her voice completely.

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t be stupid, girl. We’re all you’ve got. Do you think your friends will want you once they know what you really are? You’re a demon, plain and simple.”

“I might be a demon, but there’s nothing wrong with that,” she shot back, feeling angry. “It’s not what you are, it’s what you do.”

“You’re just like your mother.” She thought she saw pain in his eyes, but it was overshadowed by a rage so potent it sent her back a step. “Just a whore like your mother.”

Tara felt as though she’d been slapped, and she felt an arm circle her shoulders, knowing without looking that it belonged to Willow. “Tara, we’re needed.”

“You can’t stay with them!” Donnie spoke now. He had always taken his cues from their—no, his—father, and this time was no different. Tara wondered what her childhood might have been like if the man who wasn’t her father had actually treated her like his daughter and not a second-class citizen. “You get into that trailer or I’ll beat you down so hard you won’t get up.”

Tara sensed that Wesley or Willow both were ready to attack, and she decided to go on the offensive herself. She needed to do this. “Be quiet, Donnie.”

The words she spoke were authoritative and completely effective. Although his mouth kept moving, no sound came out, and her father stared at her in horror. “What did you do?”

“It’ll wear off in a day or so,” she replied. “As long as he’s out of town by then. I suggest you all leave before that evil you say is in me really comes out.”

It took them all of thirty seconds to clear out, not even looking back at her. Tara felt relief and a profound sadness all at the same time. They weren’t her family, not anymore, but they were the people she’d grown up with, the people who should have protected her, who should have loved her.

“Well done, Tara.” Wesley’s quiet words of praise, combined with Willow’s warm arm holding her tight, were exactly what she needed.

“So, is there something up, or did you just say that so you could interrupt?” she asked Willow.

The other witch looked slightly sheepish, but said, “No, there really is something up. Spike and Buffy found one of the people who was responsible for Dawn. They want us to look into finishing the memory spell.”

Tara smiled. “Good. Let’s get started.”

~~~~~

Quinn sat down in the row behind Willow and Tara, wondering if she should try the whole “I’m a demon fighter, how can I help?” line. She wondered if she’d be believed.

Not that they would necessarily have a reason to doubt her; it wasn’t like she’d given any indication that she was with the Council. Of course, if she were Buffy, Quinn knew that she’d be suspicious of any self-proclaimed demon fighter cozying up to her and her friends.

She sat through class, unable to pay attention, wondering if she how she should approach this.

Quinn had nearly decided not to say anything at all when class ended and Tara turned to face her. “How are you?”

She was so surprised to have been addressed that she was momentarily speechless. “I’m alright,” Quinn managed. “Thanks for asking.”

Tara gave her an encouraging smile, then left, leaving Quinn to wonder what her next step was going to be. When her cell phone rang, she answered it immediately, without looking at who was calling.

She wished she had in the next moment; this was a call she didn’t want to take.

“Ms. O’Mara. I haven’t received any new information from you.”

“I’ve had to keep my distance,” Quinn responded. “I don’t want to raise suspicions.”

“There have been new developments.” Travers sounded pleased with himself, which made her nervous. “I want you find out what Wesley Wyndam-Pryce’s reading of the prophecy might be. I need to know what they know.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” she asked, more sharply than she intended.

Travers’ voice was cold. “I don’t care. Break into his apartment if you must, but I want answers Ms. O’Mara. You realize that there are other Watchers who could take over your sister’s care—Watchers who might not be as concerned for her well-being perhaps.”

Quinn swallowed the curse on the tip of her tongue, her anger burning brightly. She knew that Travers was trying to blackmail her, but she didn’t think it would have quite the effect he wanted.

Her mind had just been made up for her.

“I’ll do what I can,” she promised, but the promise was to herself.

Once the Slayer knew what she’d been sent to do, it was entirely possible that Buffy would refuse to help her. It was even possible that Travers would carry through with his threat and reassign her parents should he find out that she’d “gone native,” as he might say.

If there was one thing Quinn hated, however, it was a bully, and she refused to allow Travers to force her into a corner like this.

Now, she just needed to plan her approach.

~~~~~

They were holding yet another meeting; Buffy wondered if the meetings would ever be over. She wanted action right now, even though she was still sore from the Hellbitch’s attack.

She had more information now, at least. The Beast—also known as Glory—was a Hellgod who had been kicked out of her own dimension into theirs. The only way for her to get home was to use the Key, but in doing so, she’d destroy their world and a bunch of others.

Being a self-centered twit, she didn’t care.

Buffy’s job was to keep her from finding the Key, and to make sure she didn’t do too much damage. Finding a way to kill her would be nice, too.

Luka didn’t seem terribly hopeful about killing her; mostly, he just didn’t want the world to end, and the prophecy indicated that Spike was going to prevent that.

Buffy wasn’t sure whether to feel left out or not.

“So, can you do it?” Buffy asked.

Willow shrugged. “Yes and no. We can probably finish the spell for Dawn so that all her memories are in place. But beyond that it’s hard to say whether the spell would be successful. It might be 100% successful, and suddenly Dawn is a full-fledged member of the family. Or, you might have a weird mish-mash of memories.”

Buffy’s eyes narrowed. “What if you gave Dawn another set of memories?”

“What do you mean?” Wesley asked.

“What if you gave her memories that match her background story? Even if you were successful in completing the spell that the monks started, we would still have a lot of damage control, right?”

“You’d think so,” Spike said. “We’d have to get different papers, convince everyone that what they remember isn’t real.”

“It would be a mess.” Giles’ tone was flat. “And if Glory realizes that you are the one with her Key, she’ll begin asking questions.”

“Do you think she’ll suspect it’s Dawn?” Willow asked, sounding worried. “I mean, how would she know that it’s a person?”

“There is no way she can know. Only those who are not fully in this world can see her in her true form.” Brother Luka spoke for the first time. Spike had found him something to wear that wouldn’t look so out of place, but he seemed uncomfortable in his jeans and t-shirt.

Tara spoke softly, but the room was correspondingly quiet to allow everyone to hear her. “I think we should let Dawn make the decision. Either way.”

Spike’s eyebrows went up. “What makes you say that?”

“She had no choice in coming to be,” Tara said. “I think she should have some choice in deciding what happens to her next.”

“I think that Joyce should also be consulted.” Giles cleared his throat. “She will be rather upset if she’s not. I believe she’s growing rather attached to Dawn.”

“Fine.” Buffy crossed her arms. “I should patrol tonight. Can you guys figure out whether you can create a new set of memories? I think that will be our best option.”

“We’ll work on it, Buffy,” Willow promised.

“Great. Spike?”

He followed her out the door, and she breathed a sigh of relief. “God.”

“You okay?”

“I’m going crazy,” she admitted.

Spike smirked. “What you need is a good hunt.”

“What I need is a good something.” She let her eyes tell him what she wanted, and then she ran.

Buffy used every ounce of speed she had to her advantage, feeling the thrill of being pursued, and yet knowing that when he caught her—if she let him catch her—she would be completely safe.

Her hair whipped around her face, and she wished briefly that she’d thought to pull it back, but that thought was gone in the next moment, forgotten in the thrill of it all.

Buffy headed for one of the cemeteries she knew would be deserted, one that had little undead activity. Flying past gravestones, she headed towards a clearing they had used for private trysts in the past.

She sensed it coming before Spike hit her from behind with a flying tackle, taking the brunt of the fall himself, making sure she wound up on top.

“My favorite position,” she murmured into his ear.

He chuckled. “I had no idea.”

In another moment, they were fumbling with buttons and zippers desperately, wanting nothing more than skin on skin. Buffy wanted him inside her; she wanted the quick rush of endorphins.

She wanted the connection.

When it was over, Spike cradled her close, and Buffy basked in the sense of security he gave her. Hell, that they gave each other.

“I love you.”

She felt his smile, even though she couldn’t see it. “I love you, too.”

~~~~~

From her vantage point, Quinn tried to back away as silently as possible. She had seen Buffy being chased and had thought to help her, thinking it was the least she could do.

When she’d realized what exactly was going on, she’d wanted to leave, but was afraid that they would know someone had been watching.

Her cheeks burning, she inched away, desperate to leave, feeling much the same way she had when she’d walked in on her parents. That’s what their passion had reminded her of—and her parents had been married for over thirty years.

Quinn still needed to find a time to approach them, but it could wait. Right now, she had some sexual frustration of her own to work off.

As she began the hunt for members of the undead, Quinn tried to repress her feelings of jealousy.

In truth, she’d give her right arm for passion like that.