The cloaked woman who had spoken to the dragon tossed her red hair free of the hood’s constraints. Smiling at Spike, she nodded.

“She’ll be fine.”

Spike stared, in disbelief, at her.

“Willow? How…Red, how did you do all of this?”

“Well, Buffy and the rest of the potentials have been trying to find this beast for quite some time. We knew what he was going to be used for, but I needed to find him first. We wanted to save him, but, he became corrupted, as so many dragons do. Poor Thia. Anyway, we knew they were going to fight Angel, so I honed in on his soul, and transported us here. But we had no idea you’d be here.”

“She…she didn’t…she doesn’t know I’m alive?”

“Well, now she knows. That was why she offered to kill Thia if we needed to…I think she hoped that if the worst happened to her, she might see you again. She’s been lost without you, Spike.”

Spike’s expression softened for a moment, then stiffened. He stood up, facing Willow, angrily.

“Lost, yeah? The Immortal dump her or something?”

The third hooded figure stepped forward, chuckling.

“Oh, Spike, you’re so naïve,” he said, pulling his hood back. Spike shook his head.

“Andrew?”

“Yeah! I just think its so funny you can’t tell the difference between the real Buffy and another Buffybot! I must be getting better at this!”

“What?”

”Well, yeah. Buffy was…er…incapacitated for a while after you died, so we had to compensate. Didn’t want the demon world to think the most powerful Slayer was gone! We figured it was best to get the most dangerous ‘reconnaissance’ work out of the way, while Buffy wasn’t in danger. We just needed to know where the Immortal’s loyalties were.”

“I could’ve told you that, mate. He’s only loyal to himself.”

“Right. Well, we thought he had a hand in this uprising, so we sent our Buffybot after him. He found out one night when she was uploading the day’s information on her laptop. He was pretty pissed at first, but he is a little kinky…he’s actually been a great customer! Helped us all get out of debt, buy a house….”

“It wasn’t her?”

“No.”

“Is this…?”

Andrew nodded.

“Yep!”

Spike’s eyes filled with tears.

“She…missed me?”

Dropping back to his knees, Spike scooped a still-unconscious Buffy up into his arms. Standing with her cradled to his chest, he walked to Willow.

“So, how do we get out of here, Red?”

“Same way we came in.”

Willow’s voice trailed off into a soft hum. Murmuring a few unintelligible words, she waved her clothed arms in a broad, circular, motion. The white fog that had ushered Willow, Buffy, Andrew, and the potentials in earlier, soon surrounded the group.

“What about the others,” Spike asked.

“They know how to get back to where they live,” Andrew replied.

“Come on guys,” Willow called, as she and Andrew faded into the whiteness.

Buffy stirred in Spike’s arms as he carried her after Willow. Angel shrugged at Illyria, still to confused to speak, and sighed before he followed Spike into the haze. Illyria scanned the wreckage of the battle with a cool indifference, as if taking inventory, before turning on her heels after the group. The white cloud had dissipated before a final figure could pass through. A whithered arm, covered in flaky scales, reached toward the remaining puffs of smoke in the air. As it fell to the ground, its body melting away, it hissed into the clouds.

“The prophesssssssssssssy…Russsssssssia…Taslk shuin melak.”

--
A cool sea breeze cut into the warm night air on San Francisco’s Pier 39, as the group walked through the remains of the white haze. Buffy was still dozing in Spike’s arms as Willow led them through the dock area, speckled with late night tourists, to a small, white beach house. Willow, Andrew, and Illyria entered the home, forgetting the two vampires on the porch. Spike cleared his throat, and Willow blushed.

“Oh, right…vampires. Sorry! It’s been so long since we’ve entertained. Spike, Angel, come inside.”

“Thanks for remembering, Red.”

Spike easily found his way into the home’s living room, and gingerly set Buffy down on the couch. Brushing a few strands of her hair out of her still closed eyes, Spike gazed at her in loving disbelief. The mood was shattered as Angel stormed into the room.

“Oh, stop making ‘moon eyes’ at her Spike! You’re disgusting. She’s unconscious!”

Spike began to hush his grandsire, but the damage of his loud whine had already been done. Buffy’s green eyes fluttered open and she smiled when they fell on Spike.

“Hey.”

“Hey, yourself, pet.”

“You’re okay,” she said hoarsely.

Spike smiled as he helped her sit up.

“I am, love.”

A half-hearted smack crashed into Spike’s chest. Buffy frowned at him.

“So, letting me know you were alive wasn’t important, hmm?”

Spike’s face washed over with an amused frustration.

“And how was I supposed to get ahold of you, pet? Not that I knew your number anyway, but the only phone you had is in a crater now. And for all I knew, you were happy trolling around town with the Immortal.”

Buffy rolled her eyes.

“That’s no excuse. You should have known where I was.”

“And why’s that, pet?”

She fluttered her eyelashes becomingly.

“Because you love me?”

“Yeah, and as I recall, you said you loved me too, and I didn’t see you tromping around trying to find me.”

Angel sighed, loudly, in the corner of the room.

“Cut it out! Jeez, you two are like teenagers! We have more important things to figure…”

His voice trailed off as a mess of blonde curls skipped down the stairs, cradling a stuffed, pink pig far too large for her tiny arms to carry. She stared at Spike for a moment, and then turned to Buffy.

“Mummy, who are all of these people?”