Warning Note: Since this is unfinished and going to stay that way, it's also unbetaed, and barely even proof read by yours truly. Read on at your own risk.

Original Author's Note: Okay, just so we can get this out of the way, I have taken some liberties with some of the Hindu Gods here. This is not meant as any kind of insult to anyone's background or religion and these are no more about the real Hindu beliefs, than Xena is about real ancient Greece, or their presentation of David and Goliath had anything to do with the Bible. I'm using them as characters, while keeping with the Xena notion that Gods are just a wee bit on the annoying side as a matter of course. It is not meant as a sign of disrespect to anyone's beliefs.

More Current Author's Note: Not sure why I tried this one. As I recall, a late night at a con spent arguing over whether or not it could be done figured heavily into the effort. Anyway, yes, Xena and Buffy can be put in the same story. No, I don't think it can be done especially well. At least not by me, but it's got a few nice moments, so if you're interested, here it is. Also, it kinda takes some liberties with Hindu Gods. Being a pretty secular sort, I managed to be offensive without knowing it, and then the show's producers had the same brilliant idea, and seeing how much trouble they got in, I opted to leave off. Also, by then, I thought Xena sucked, and honestly didn't care what happened to any of the characters, plus various events had made all of the this a pointless exercise.

Disclaimers may be found here

Joyce Summers was intensely aware of the tall, forbidding figure striding authoritatively to her right. The warrior was wearing a topcoat of Giles', but covering her armor couldn't hide the dangerous feral quality that swirled around her. She glanced to her other side, where her daughter was also keeping easy pace. Giles and Willow were behind a few paces. The guard had raised an eyebrow at the small crew, but seemed to accept her explanation without too much question. Particularly when Xena turned a hard look his way. Before that he might have argued, but that had turned his knees to water and he'd staggered away, leaving them to their own devices. "You said you need the piece of a scroll that's in the display?" she directed the question at Xena.

The warrior nodded, her expression giving nothing away. "Yes," she clipped. "Gabrielle's scroll."

Joyce nodded, taking a turn and moving under the traveling display's banner. "This way," she directed.

Xena paused, staring up at the painting past the banner, noting the wild-eyed warrior on one side with a raised brow. She found if she squinted hard, she could just barely read the words describing, but she didn't have to read them to know who the image was supposed to be.

"They…uh…got the hair color wrong," Willow pointed out needlessly.

"Among other things," Xena noted dryly, then passed under the banner. She hated the coat they'd insisted she wear over her armor, but her time in this world had already shown her how thoroughly dress modes had changed. And she did want to avoid any unnecessary attention. Suddenly, she tensed, catching the shoulder of the blond woman ahead of her, pulling her up short. When Joyce would have yelped, she found a hard hand across her mouth. "Quiet," Xena hissed, and held up a hand, gesturing for the others to stop. There was someone in the chamber ahead. She could just barely hear movement. She removed her hand as she felt Joyce still. "There's someone ahead," she whispered to Buffy as the teen came around to her side.

"Mom, stay back with Giles and Willow," Buffy whispered, then hurried after Xena, who was already moving ahead.

The warrior stripped off the confining coat and drew her sword, her movements perfectly controlled and silent.

They had just reached the main display room, when a soft curse echoed off the ancient walls of the building. Buffy pointed and Xena nodded. Whoever it was was on the other side of a case. The two women split, moving around the case on opposite sides.

Buffy peered around the edge of the display case, instantly spotting the black clad figure a few feet away, fumbling with the freestanding case that held the piece of Gabrielle of Potedeia's scroll. Of course, Buffy thought disgustedly. She caught sight of Xena peeking around the other side of the case and gestured toward the scroll, hoping the woman would understand.

The would-be thief cursed again, visibly fumbling as he struggled with the intricate hermetically sealed locks. Finally, he wrapped gloved hands around the whole unit and tried to pick it up, grunting with the strain, but the glass enclosure on top seemed to be coming loose.

They couldn't have that. Shaking her head, Buffy stepped out. "Hey, big boy, haven't you heard, stealing is bad?"

The thief yelped, momentarily losing his grip on the heavy glass bubble, before trying to regain his dignity. "Look, I dunno who you are little girlee, but this is serious business. You don't want me to have to hurt you." He gave the glass enclosure a good hard yank and it came free, or at least mostly free. It was still attached by the twisting snake of wires and cables that supplied power and oxygen to the sealed container.

Buffy had to resist the urge to laugh. As it was she grinned. "Girlee, oh good, you're a sexist oinker. That's going to make this much more fun."

Xena reached out with the tip of her sword, tickling the thief under one arm as she whispered, "Boo."

The would-be thief yelped, his start of surprise sending the glass case flying. Xena snatched it neatly out of the air with one hand.

The thief spun as if to grab the glass case back, only to come face to face with the tip of Xena's sword and a feline smile. "Yes?" she inquired politely.

Buffy tapped a scrawny, black clad shoulder lightly and he spun, literally running into her careening fist. He was down and out like a light. "Well, that takes care of one problem," the slayer muttered dryly. She was just looking up when she saw the warrior princess start to yank the glass case in her hand free of the heavy cables binding it to the pedestal. "No!" she snapped, grabbing Xena's arm just before the cables were stretched to the breaking point.

Crystalline blue eyes stared at the slayer, a wealth of need visible there for just the briefest moment. The emotion caught Buffy by surprise, and for a second, she could only stare back. Finally, she cleared her throat. "You…uh…need to let us disarm the security system…so we can get out of here…quietly," she explained in halting gasps. She could feel the woman's desire to simply yank and run like a live thing.

"Uh, Buffy," Willow's hesitant voice broke in on the silent communication. "Is it time for me to do my thing?"

The slayer's head jerked around, eyes widening as she noted that Giles, Willow and her mom had obviously come running to help. "Uh…yeah," she exhaled.

The redhead flashed a nervous look at the unconscious figure as she carefully stepped over him. She had her computer toolkit in hand, ready for the job at hand. She noted the way Xena was holding the glass enclosure for the tiny piece of the scroll, clutching it protectively, her hand almost caressing where her fingertips touched the surface. She suddenly felt like a surgeon about to cut into someone's family member while they looked on. "I promise," she whispered and reached out a hand. "I'll be careful."

Xena settled the case in Willow's hands, hesitant to release it from her care. For just a moment, she'd thought she'd sensed a whisper of Gabrielle.

The computer geek tugged as much wire loose as possible, then set the case on the support pillar, but on its side this time, so she could reach the delicate controls on the bottom.

With Willow busy, severing the security cables, Giles nodded toward the unconscious thief. "What about him?" he queried.

"He was after the scroll too," Buffy answered, noting that the warrior was watching her friend work with a hawkish gaze as though she would leap down at any moment that she suspected Willow was making a mistake. "It seems all sorts of people are interested in our friend over here."

"Yes, that rather worries me," Giles remarked.

"What worries me is that it's almost time for the guard to walk his route," Joyce inserted. "I think we need to get moving as fast as possible."

"I'm almost done," Willow whispered as she clipped the final wires. They came loose with nary a response from the security alarms. The redhead smiled and let out a sigh of relief. Her parents would not have understood if she'd been arrested while stealing from the local museum. Actually, they wouldn't have understood if she'd been arrested while doing anything now that she thought about it. Xena plucked the heavy glass case up before Willow could blink, cradling it against her body. She had sheathed her weapon, but that did little to mute the sheer, animal threat that clung about her like a fog.

"All right then," Giles said, sounding relieved. "Let's get out of here." He thrust the coat at Xena, his meaning obvious. Loath to release the case for even a moment, the warrior didn't move, until finally Joyce snorted something impolite under her breath.

"We'll use the side exit," she muttered, and pointed them opposite the direction they'd come.

"What about him?" Xena demanded, thinking perhaps the thief shouldn't be left alive.

As if reading the other woman's thoughts, Joyce shook her head. "Leave him for the police." She offered a wry glance to Giles. "Maybe it will help keep them from seeing the obvious…namely that we're the guilty ones."

The watcher nodded, his expression wry, though Buffy shook her head, tut-tutting sarcastically.

"Mom, mom," she complained, nevertheless following along as the small group headed toward the side exit. "With that attitude, you will never make it in the high profile world of vampire slayage."

"And this is a bad thing?" Joyce countered.

The exit required a special key to avoid setting off the alarm, and Joyce quickly fitted it in the slot above the bright red paddle that warned it was only an emergency exit, fiddling with the key as she struggled with the stubborn lock. She almost had it when a sneering voice echoed through the room.

"Now, isn't this interesting…"

The small group pivoted to find the thief standing on shaky legs a few yards back, a gun held in one gloved hand. His ski mask was askew enough for the others to get a look at the lower half of his face.

"Don't date much, huh?" Buffy murmured mock-sympathetically.

"You're gonna regret that, girlee," he snarled and waved the weapon in his hand. "Now, you," he gestured to Xena. "Gimme the scroll."

Xena only tightened her grip on her only tie to her past and shook her head.

"I don't think you heard me," the thief postured.

"If you wish it, you may attempt to come take it," the warrior responded simply.

"I really wouldn't recommend that line of action," Buffy commented, then turned her head just enough to whisper to the others, "Get ready to move."

He waved his pistol again. "I want that scroll…now!"

"No," Xena refused again and turned away, dismissing him.

Buffy saw his finger start to tighten on the trigger and shouted to the others, "NOW!"

Joyce battered a palm into the flat of the red warning sign, felt the resistance give way, then all hell broke loose as the sound of security klaxons rent the air. Giles' hand hit her shoulder, shoving her through the door and into the chill night air. "Your car!" he shouted, pushing Willow after her. She heard more shots, then the plunk of lead on steel as they were stopped by the heavy exit door. "Buffy!" the woman shouted, pivoting and running backwards toward her car. She saw her daughter and the dark warrior stumble from the building, shoving the door closed in their wake. The muffled sound of gunfire hammered the air, but the heavy steel shielded the two women who were fast shoving it closed.

"Go!" Giles shouted at her as he made a break for his own car.

Willow dove into the back of Mrs. Summer's car a heartbeat before she got the engine started and threw it into gear. "Oh my God," the teen muttered as she felt the vehicle surge forward, the heavy engine working hard. Joyce drove it right over the curb and up the grassy hillock that led to the back entrance of the museum where Buffy and Xena were still holding the door shut. She layed on the horn, warning the two women holding the door shut as she drove straight toward the door. She had her foot on the brake, ready to slam it down, but both women got the idea in time. Diving aside at the last moment, and leaving the door clear for Joyce to blockade shut with her front bumper. She could hear muted curses and screams as she leaned out the window, yelling to the two women, "Get in!"

Willow spun in her seat, leaning over the seat to push rear door open, adding her own, "Come on!"

Buffy shoved Xena into the back seat, then bounded into the front passenger seat, shouting, "Floor it!" to her mother as she slammed the car door shut. As they peeled out, she noted that Giles had gotten his aging Citroën started, though it wasn't accelerating much faster with no passengers than it had with every seat filled.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *~ *

The thief stepped into the cold night air, helplessly watching the two vehicles speed away. Breathing hard, his head still throbbing, his none too impressive intelligence struggling to understand the situation, he stamped his feet, howled obscenities, and flung the now empty pistol at the retreating bronco. The alarm suddenly shut off inside the building and he was startled by the ensuing silence. The quiet didn't last long. He plucked the sound of coyote yips and howls somewhere in the night, then the sound of shuffling feet inside the museum. Time to get moving since police sirens would probably be the next sound he heard.

He was wrong.

The next sound he heard was the slamming of the metal exit door. It thudded shut, the tumblers clicking into place with the sound of metal rasping on metal.

He spun, eyes going wide as he spotted the hooded figure that had pushed the door closed. He made out the faint glimmer of white teeth as she smiled. "You were hired to steal the chakram and an itty bitty piece of scroll from a museum barely guarded by a ninety-five year old deaf man, and yet, somehow…unless I'm mistaken, they both just left…in the custody of someone else." A withered but still graceful hand cut the air, punctuating her words, while the thief backed up a step.

"I-I'll get them back for you," he promised, trying to keep his arrogance in place and failing miserably.

"It's too late," she explained. "Far, far too late." He could have sworn her eyes glowed ever so faintly under the cover of the hood, but that made no sense whatsoever. Right? He backed up another step. "You failed the Goddess--" she whispered, but he cut her off, barely able to keep the panic out of his voice.

"You can have your money back," he panted, and spun as if to run, only to find women blocking his path, their wicked smiles making him quiver with terror.

"Money," the hooded woman's husky voice was right next to his ear. He could just barely see her silhouette by rolling his eyes all the way to the side. "What makes you think I want money?" She laughed very softly and he felt her hands land on his shoulders. Not even the faintest trace of heat slipped through his black sweater, the one he'd bought because he thought it made him look like the cat burglar in It Take A Thief. "E-everyone wants money," he insisted, but she only laughed again, yanking his mask off, careless of way rough knitted fibers burned his cheek.

"Hey!" He grabbed for the mask, but she lobbed it to the other women, who caught it, giggling happily. He was beginning to suspect he was in very deep trouble. He never had been quick on the uptake, because it was just occurring to him to run when he was shoved forward into the group. Normally, being fondled by a group of beautiful, giggling females was his favorite fantasy, but in that version, they were always amazed by his masculine beauty, astonished at his size, and desperate for his body. In this one, they were just hungry. He died quickly, punctured by dozens of teeth and drained in moments.

The hooded woman watched silently for the few moments it took him to die. Finally, as sirens rang in the distance, she turned to go, calling back over her shoulder. "When you're done feeding, stake him out somewhere, so he can kiss the sun one last time." She laughed softly. It never ceased to amaze her that any of Joxer's progeny survived past childhood. Actually, it never ceased to amaze her that he had any progeny at all. Lucky for him, reliable birth control hadn't been available to the whores he and his various bastards had frequented down through time.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *~ *

After stopping at a street corner for several minutes of discussion, the small group of vampire hunters had agreed that, in view of the electrical storm Xena's coming had caused at Willow's, it would be best to attempt the next event well outside of town, where there was nothing to explode, burn down, or otherwise draw attention. They drove past the teen's badly damaged house, and Buffy twisted in her seat, reaching back to pat her friend's shoulder sympathetically. "Don't worry, we'll figure something out in the morning."

"Maybe I can talk to your parents," Joyce offered hesitantly. "Perhaps even get the insurance paperwork started tomorrow."

Buffy looked over at her mother, surprised by the offer. "Um, Mom, it would mean the lying thing," she reminded her. "Willow's folks don't know about the whole vampire trip."

Joyce nodded, hating the notion of lying to another parent about such dangerous events, but knowing that the computer expert had kept her daughter alive more than once. Buffy needed that kind of support and didn't get it from many places. "I know," she exhaled and glanced over, feeling like a traitor to that secret union of responsible adults to which all parents are supposed to belong. "But…well…under the circumstances, it might be best."

Buffy frowned as she realized what her mother was surrendering.

"Thanks, Mrs. Summers," Willow murmured.

Joyce automatically started to reply, 'Anytime,' but it occurred to her that maybe that wouldn't be the best promise to make no matter how empty it might be. She snapped her jaws shut.

After that, the car was silent until they pulled to a halt in an empty field several miles from town. Once a part of a rather prosperous farm, it now lay unclaimed and fallow.

Xena was the first out, stretching her shoulders and breathing the chill air deeply. It struck her that the air smelled cleaner outside of the city, almost like the world she remembered. She unconsciously caressed the glass globe still held safely in her hands, suddenly longing for those times, wishing she could once again hold Gabrielle close and make up for her mistakes. Her eyes slid closed. The Gods willing…soon. She came back to the world when a small hand tapped her lightly on the shoulder. She opened her eyes to find the others watching her intently, while the young redhead stood little more than a pace away, her wide green eyes scared, but steady. Before the warrior could speak, Buffy broke in.

"You don't have to do this, Willow."

Willow glanced back at her friend and shrugged. "I have to try," she admitted. It had nothing to do with slaying, or the Goddess' threats and everything to do with the expression in the eyes of the woman in front of her. She turned back, reaching out to Xena and ignoring Gile's low voice.

"Buffy is quite right. If there's any danger--"

"I wasn't hurt before," the hacker pointed out without looking back.

Xena silently settled the glass case protecting the tiny bit of scroll into the girl's outstretched hand, then suddenly froze as she caught sight of the words printed on the parchment in Gabrielle's painstakingly neat hand. She read the fragment in an instant, her brain translating the ancient Greek to English even as her eyes flashed over the words.

She didn't recognize the passage, didn't even think about it. The bard had always been playing with words, telling stories and writing poetry with some thought to a later performance. Gabrielle. Her eyes lifted and she tightened her hold on the glass. "She's right," she said softly, knowing that her bard wouldn't want this young woman harmed for her sake. "You don't have to do this."

Willow's hands, fine boned, but surprisingly strong remained braced on the surface of the glass. "Yes, I do," she disagreed with a nervous smile. She gnawed on her lower lip. "I-it's not that I'm not scared...at least not much," she admitted when Xena still didn't release the case. "But if I am the only one who can…and the world really is at stake…." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly to calm herself. She looked back, her eyes meeting Buffy's, her expression almost apologetic. "Don't you see, I have to."

Xena saw and understood and her fingers loosed their tight hold on the glass.

Willow took the heavy glass, holding it close to her body. She still hadn't broken her gaze from her friend's blue eyes, silently pleading for understanding.

At last, Buffy nodded. She didn't like it, not at all, but she understood. As the slayer, she understood all too well. That was one of the reasons she hated the idea. She knew how dangerous those sorts of responsibilities could be. Certainly her life was likely to be a short one because of them.

Giles sighed softly, while Joyce closed her eyes, neither supporting nor arguing. She was only beginning to comprehend the depth of then teens' commitment to keeping the world safe. In truth, she was only beginning to see the danger the world was in. "Be careful," she whispered.

Willow only nodded, shivering gently as she noted that the temperature had dropped several degrees now that they were away from the tarmac and buildings of the city. She squared her shoulders. Time to do this. "I…um…think maybe I should try this…over there…a ways back from the rest of you."

Buffy folded her arms across her chest. "Great…yeah…this is really safe," she muttered to herself as she watched Willow pace away from them. "That's why she feels the need to walk to the next county first."

"Er, Buffy," Giles said carefully. "I think perhaps we should respect the fact that Willow is trying to do the right thing."

"That should comfort her family if it gets her killed," the teen grumbled unhappily.

"She has a good heart," Xena murmured.

Willow finally reached what she seemed to consider a reasonable distance and carefully set the glass enclosure down, drawing a small screwdriver from her back pocket as she crouched.

"Yeah, she's a peach," the slayer hissed. "Let's hope nothing rips it out…her heart, I mean."

Willow could hear the soft mumblings from the distance, but not the actual words and she didn't really want to know what the others were saying anyway. She knew perfectly well that her friends didn't want her to do this, that they wanted to protect her, but if she really could bring the trapped poet back (something she wasn't nearly as certain about as she'd made out), then she needed to try. Her expanding knowledge of, and fascination with, magic had left her with both a profound curiosity and a need to know more. Concentrating completely on the glass-globed case, she slipped the sharp edge of the screwdriver between the glass and the black metal bottom, finding the locking tabs by instinct as much as by feel. It popped open with surprising ease and she heard the faint release of air in the controlled system, and smelled the faint tinge of ancient dust and parchment.

The small square of scroll was held in place by tiny metal hooks, but the loose ends fluttered ever so slightly as they were opened to the world for the first time in years.

The teen closed her eyes, centering herself internally. Her friends had fallen silent now, apparently in awe of the moment. She concentrated, gnawing on her lower lip as she reached out. The parchment was cool and dry and for the briefest second, she could feel the power surging through it, almost touch the soul trapped inside. The tiniest of flickering gold lights danced over the very tips of her fingers.

And then it was gone.

Nothing.

All she could feel was plain paper parchment under her fingertips.

Willow closed her eyes and tried again, focusing all of her energies on the inanimate object in an effort to reach the person bound to it. She couldn't even feel a whisper of her presence anymore. It was like she was simply gone. No longer locked in because she simply wasn't there. She shook her head slowly, surprised by the lump of tears that rose in her throat in response to her failure. She looked to the others, and shook her head again, more distinctly this time, letting them know she'd tried and fallen short.

Xena tensed, hands fisting at her sides, jaw clenching as she felt the threat of much-hated tears.

Giles removed his glasses, nervously polishing them as he muttered haltingly, "I…uh…there are doubtless other things…we can try…."

Xena shook her head. "No…this was just Shivani's last stab of revenge…" She turned crystal bright eyes his way, her expression savage. "I rode through her land once. She hates me with reason." She turned away, putting some distance between herself and these people as she faced her own agony. "Most likely," she admitted without looking back. "Either Gabrielle was never there, or the enchantment was imperfect and she died of old age still trapped in her own scrolls." She wrapped her arms around herself, shivering violently as she became aware of the cold for the first time since landing in this new world. Or perhaps the chill was inside herself.

Joyce Summers stared at the stiff back of the strange woman, struck by the utter loneliness of her posture. "I think that may be the most pathetic human being I've ever seen," she exhaled to Giles, who nodded, his expression twisted in a thoughtful frown.

"I'm still not certain there isn't more that we can try…Buffy, I…" he suddenly realized that the teen was no longer standing at his side, and was instead moving to crouch down beside her friend.

"You okay?" Buffy questioned as she reached out, petting Willow's hair lightly.

The redhead nodded. "I just thought…" she trailed off, swallowing back on her ragged tears.

Buffy slid an arm across narrow shoulders and hugged her friend lightly. "You tried. Sometimes, that's the best you can do." She knew how failure could sting.

"But I thought…for a moment…I could feel her, Buffy." She turned wide green eyes on her friend. "She was there…but now…" She shook her head. "I can't feel anything."

Buffy hugged Willow again, slightly ashamed of the fact that above all else, she was just glad her friend was okay. "Come on," she whispered and reached past Willow, intending to pick up the scroll and lead her back to the small group. She felt it the moment her fingers made contact with the ancient paper; like an electrical arc straight through her chest. The scroll dissolved under her touch, flaring like flashpaper, the light spreading and trickling over the teen. Buffy let out the smallest of cries as she felt it happen, and had a brief impression of Willow looking up at her with a terrified expression. With her last bit of physical control, she dug her fingers into Willow's collar, hurling her friend away from herself.

Willow tumbled across the dirt, scraping her elbows and palms before skidding to a halt. She twisted on the ground, staring at her friend helplessly as her head tipped back on her shoulders and a glow seemed to erupt from her chest, mouth, and eyes.

"Buffy!" Joyce shouted as she saw her daughter caught in the play of lights that lifted and surrounded her small form. She would have rushed to the girl, but hard hands caught her by the arms as Giles held her back.

"No," the Watcher insisted against his own instincts. "We don't know what will happen if we interfere." His charge's mother struggled in his arms as he tried to reassure her. "It didn't hurt Willow."

Unlike Willow's experience, Buffy found herself at least partially aware of surrounding events, though she was unconcerned about them; conscious, yet not quite conscious, she floated through what reminded her of a sunbeam, one that went through her body and her soul at the same time. She couldn't breathe, but then, she didn't seem to need to. She knew her mom, Willow, Giles, even the strange warrior were all worried and frightened for her; she even wanted to comfort them, explain that it was okay. She wasn't dying and even if she was, it wasn't so bad. Wanted to, but couldn't. As the golden beams washed over and through her, lifted her into the air, and toyed with her, it was like her very soul was caught in some kind of thrall. Feet well off the ground, body limp, she hung in midair, trapped by the glowing strands of golden light that swelled with every passing millisecond until her body disappeared in the brilliance of the glow.

Then it was gone and she let out a tiny cry as she tumbled back to earth. Her knees hit cold, hard packed earth and, boneless, the rest of her body continued to plummet.

Until strong hands caught her under the arms, halting her fall. Buffy's head lolled on her shoulders, chin tipping up, gaze trailing up a rounded, well muscled, woman's torso, smooth shoulders, rounded features, full lips and a pair of slightly glazed green eyes. She swallowed hard, struggling to find the words. The slayer vaguely heard the sounds of something scuffling in the dirt and felt someone catch her from behind. Willow? She blinked, bringing the figure before her into better focus. The eyes were older than she might have thought from the first glance. Like the warrior, there were delicate crow's feet, and a few grey threads in strawberry blond hair, but it was her eyes that proclaimed her age; deep and intense, they cleared of their daze to stare straight through Buffy.

Suddenly, the woman's head tipped up, her gaze moving on. Her lips moved as she exhaled a single word. "Xena." She released Buffy into Willow's hold, stepping around the kneeling girl with hurried but graceful strides.

Buffy struggled to bring her head around and watch. Normally controlled muscles quivered randomly and she couldn't have moved if her life depended on it. "Buffy?" Willow's voice was near her ear, sounding scared and breathless. So that was who had caught her. Well, that made sense or it would have if she'd been clearer headed. "Are you okay?"

"Okay?" The slayer echoed, thinking that actually she was okay; in a hazy place, but safe and warm and it was nice to be the one doing the leaning rather that the supporting for once. "Mmm…okay," she confirmed, dazedly watching as the warrior and the newly arrived bard reached each other, bodies entwining in a desperate hug. Her mom and Giles arrived; she could hear them fussing over her, checking her temperature and pulse. Giles leaned in close, pulling her lower eyelid down to peer at her pupil.

"Stop that!" Buffy snapped and jerked her head back, then suddenly leaned to the side to peer around her watcher. "Now that's something you don't see every day," she murmured wonderingly as she noted that the desperate hug had melted into an equally desperate kiss, and not the sort a girl would give her mother either.

"Oh," Willow exhaled, her soft breath tickling Buffy's ear.

The slayer let out a drunken giggle as she heard her mother and Giles gasp in perfect tandem. "Well, Willow, I think you now have the answer about who all of Gabrielle of Potedeia's love poetry was about…good Lord, are they ever gonna come up for air?"

Rupert Giles peeled off his glasses and began polishing them furiously. "I…I suppose…I mean…well…"

Xena, for her part, had lost all track of the others. Her whole existence was focused on the woman in her arms. A thin wash of tears blurred her vision, but she didn't need to see to know who she held. Her heart knew it far better than her eyes ever had. She tightened her hold on Gabrielle's slender frame, clutching her body close as she tasted the softness of her lips and felt the hammering beat of her heart for the first time in an eternity.. Somehow, her hair still smelled of sweetness, and flowers, and all of the things that had always been Gabrielle. For nearly three thousand years, trapped in limbo, Xena had dreamt of this moment, prayed for it, imagined it, even hallucinated it, until reality and fantasy blended into an almost seamless amalgam. At some level, she'd doubted it all, feared she was still trapped in limbo until the very moment she felt the warmth of Gabrielle's body against her own, strong hands clutching at her back, soft lips moving against her own. Home. She was finally home. She lost herself in the knowledge, letting go and trusting completely for the first time since being sentenced to limbo, her soul bound to the task of containing Ares' evil.

She didn't think of anything else again until someone tapped her lightly on the shoulder. Xena tensed, expression turning hawklike as she lifted her head, then tipped her gaze downward again to find the small figure who stood staring blearily up at her, wobbling ever so slightly on her feet.

"Y'know guys…er….girls," Buffy corrected herself, "You might wanna get a room. If Giles gets any redder, we're going to have give him a siren and let him be a fire engine."

The two women stared blankly at the slayer.

"Okay, I'll admit that one wasn't my best," Buffy mumbled and ran a hand through her hair. "But I'm not exactly on top of my game at the moment." She seriously considered passing out for a moment, then the dizziness cleared a little. She was still trying to come up with a better one liner when she felt it; that crawling sensation along her spinal column that always meant trouble. She tensed, eyes already hunting the darkness for the latest threat. She saw the warrior and her newly returned bard, looked past them to spot the shadows of Giles and her mom talking, then looked beyond that. "Willow!"

Her friend was a few feet behind her mentor and mother, seemingly incredibly small against the velvet beauty of the night. And another few feet back from her, the night grew a little darker, a little colder--and a whole lot meaner. Buffy saw Willow look up, her head canting to one side in a pose of confusion even as the shadow split from the darkness, flowed, formed, gained life. Buffy started to rush forward, but a strong hand caught her shoulder, holding her back even as the owner of the hand stepped past her. Buffy was surprised to see that it was the small, blond figure of the bard and not the taller silhouette of the warrior.

"No," Gabrielle bit out. Then more loudly. "NO!"

But it was too late. The attacking shadow formed into a hooded figure. Willow spun as her assailant came up on her, but she was nowhere near fast enough to escape the smoky hand that lashed out and wrapped around her throat. They all heard the sharp gagging sound as the girl was hauled off her feet and lifted into the air.

"Let her go, Hope!" Gabrielle of Potedeia's voice was strong in the darkness of the night, ringing easily in this new language. Unlike the warrior, words, not swords, had always been her haven and she grasped the new language with an ease that had to with more than just the enchantment that made it possible. She heard Xena's gasp, but ignored it, all of her attention focused on the scene in front of her.

The figure holding Willow shook her like a rag doll. "Why, Mother, when it would be so much fun to hold her close?"

Willow pried at the claw wrapped around her throat, fighting to pull inhumanly strong fingers free, feet kicking helplessly in mid air.

"Because it's not her you want…it's me," Gabrielle swore. She felt Xena's hand dig into her shoulder, trying to pull her back, but shook it off to continue striding forward.

"No, actually, it's her," Hope disagreed, her tone sarcastically good-natured as the movement of the hood hiding her face indicated Xena. "But I'm afraid I'll have to settle for the little one." The clawed hand increased its pressure on Willow's throat.

"Only if you're in a hurry to die!" Buffy snarled furiously, but didn't attack. He knew her reflexes and balance were still off and one mistake could cost Willow her life.

The hood tipped to one side. "You have no idea," she drawled after a moment's consideration, then laughed. "But in three days you will." She laughed again. "When the mistress comes and devours this pesthole of a planet."

"By the Gods, Hope," Gabrielle responded, her voice throbbing with remembered hurts. Despite everything, this was her child. A part of her loved Hope, wanted some measure of peace for her. "Have you learned nothing in your life?"

Xena drew nearer to her lover's back, using her body as a shield as she reached for her chakram, keeping her movements carefully controlled so that she didn't telegraph her intentions.

"Learned?!" Hope snarled, hate lacing the single word with acidic venom. "I learned...with every death, I learned...with every life, I learned...." She was breathing hard, her entire body shuddering with the harsh gasps, then suddenly calmed herself to question conversationally, "Do you know, Mother, that every time I die, I don't really die, I just come back a little older." Hope's free hand whipped up, tearing the hood back as she added, "And a whole lot wiser." She heard all of their gasps and felt a twisted kind of joy. Good, let them gasp. After all, they had created her. "Do you know how many times a person can die in three thousand years?" She demanded.

Gabrielle couldn't speak, could barely breathe. The face that stared back at them had been beautiful once--a mirror of her own--but the skeletal husk of a thing that was left was twisted and aged almost past any recognizable humanity. The bard shuddered violently, wanting to offer some kind of comfort, but unable to find any words.

Willow knew she didn't have a lot of time left. Her head was spinning with the lack of oxygen and she could feel her larynx threatening to collapse under the agonizing pressure. Strangely, she found herself becoming perversely calm. None of them could help her as long as the woman holding her had a grip on her throat, too afraid her neck would be broken and her windpipe crushed before they could do anything to stop it, but if things went much longer, it really wouldn't matter. Trying to pry those fingers off wasn't working at all and her hands were losing all of their strength. Then she remembered the screwdriver tucked neatly back in her back pocket.

Hope laughed again. "But this time I will...and I’ll stay that way..."

Willow had to release the hand holding her suspended in mid air with one hand to reach for the screwdriver and she cried out silently as the pressure on her throat increased without that supportive grip. She just had enough clarity to wonder if the added pressure would finish crushing her windpipe before she got her hand on the screwdriver. No, not quite. The pain was blinding, but the cool weight of the tool was a surprising balm as her fingers closed on the hexagonal handle. The witch was still talking, the bitterness reaching the young hacker even through her oxygen deprived haze.

"And if I get to take the world with me, so much the better."

And Willow stabbed, bringing the sharp end of the screwdriver around in an arc and plunging it into and through the bony arm holding her aloft.

Hope screamed, but didn't release her hold. Instead, her head swung around, her eyes dancing with the fires of true hate. "Time to die," she hissed.

The distraction gave Xena the chance she needed to move fast, yanking the chakram free and shoving Gabrielle aside, she hurled the gold and silver circlet with near impossible skill.

Caught on the end of an ever tightening claw and facing the inhuman fires of purest rage, Willow finally panicked, kicking her feet desperately as she tore the screwdriver free and stabbed again, this time at the woman's face. It plunged into a corroded cheek, drawing another scream as the teen grabbed for her throat again, desperately trying to pull the fingers loose. Letting go probably saved her hand as Xena's chakram tore into Hope's neck, slicing all the way through with a spinning grinding sound that was all too reminiscent of a buzz saw ripping through heavy lumber. Willow felt a hand grab her, then Buffy was there, behind her but reaching around, determinedly tearing the still tightly gripping hand free, finger by finger. Hope's body toppled toward Willow as her head fell the other and they all hit the dirt in a pile. The whoosh of the chakram echoed once more through the night, and once again ground through bone and gristle and the hand came away from Hope's still flailing body.

"Hang on," Buffy grunted, still fighting with the clinging fingers as she hauled Willow back from the spasming figure of the dying demi-demon. Then the hand came free and she hurled it back toward the creature still heaving in its death throes.

Willow gasped for air, instinctively turning away from the dying thing and burying her face in her friend's shoulder. She was aware of Giles and Buffy's mom joining them and gentle but hurried hands running over her body, but ignored them in favor of clinging desperately to her friend.

"Willow, are you hurt?" Giles questioned as he ran a hand along the girl's shoulder, brushing her hair aside to get a look at her neck, where bruises were already darkening pale flesh. Beside him, Joyce had also knelt was checking the girl over with parental professionalism

"For God's sake, Giles, she's not exactly whistling dixie," Buffy snapped, holding tightly onto Willow's shuddering frame.

It was Joyce who interrupted what might have become a rant, her voice the gentle murmur of someone who'd dealt with a frightened child before. "You're okay, aren't you, Willow? Maybe just a little shaken?"

Dazed green eyes lifted and the teen swallowed hard, wincing as her bruised throat muscles worked to form some kind of response. "Think so," she croaked.

Joyce offered an encouraging smile, while her daughter petted silky red hair, her eyes still showing the scare she'd had as she guided Willow's head up until their eyes met. "Now, will you let me do the heroic stuff from here on out?"

The hacker gave her a weak smile. "'S a deal," she croaked.

They were all so involved in the teen's condition that they didn't notice the first signs of things to come. Lights danced and swirled over the fallen body of the demi-demon, while dust seemed to glitter and fly in the beams.

Xena hurried to the small group, Gabrielle no more than a pace behind. "We should be going," the warrior princess pointed out as she dropped to one knee beside Willow and Buffy.

"I think we can take a moment while she starts breathing again," the slayer shot back, angry and protective of her injured friend.

Her expression surprisingly understanding, Xena nodded toward the spinning lights. "Not when that moment might cost us all very dearly."

Four pairs of eyes followed the warrior's gesture, all going wide as they saw what was happening, the energy whirlpooling against the backdrop of a velvet dark night.

"Dear God," Joyce Summers exhaled, while Giles cursed softly, then muttered.

"I think you may just be right."

"Screw that," Buffy disagreed. "That thing dies--"

"No," Xena cut her off as she clapped a hard hand on the slayer's narrow shoulder. "She's already survived for three thousand years. We won't defeat her by rushing headlong into a fight we aren't ready for."

"Three thousand years?" Gabrielle echoed, her tone disbelieving as the meaning of the alien words penetrated her mind.

Xena glanced over her shoulder at her lover, reminding herself of the shock and disorientation she had experienced in that first little while--actually, the disorientation she was still experiencing, if she was honest with herself. "From what I can gather...yes," she confirmed.

The bard paled and Xena couldn't help but pity her. She'd still had family and friends when the world decided to blow to Tartarus, not like Xena, who'd had nothing left to lose in the end except the bard herself. The bard lifted a shaking hand to her temple. "Everything," she exhaled as though struck. "All gone."

"Yes," Xena said, her tone flat. "And we'll be gone too, if we don't hurry."

Buffy's teeth ground together with the anger burning through her, but she nodded. "C'mon, Will," she murmured. "Time to get up," and rose, pulling Willow's arm across her shoulder, pulling the sagging hacker to her feet.

"Up," the redhead repeated, then trailed off into a groan as her bruised body protested the movement. She would have gone down again if not for Buffy's supportive hold. As they stood there, the slayer felt her own world tip precariously, a reminder that she'd had her own universe rocking experience in the previous few minutes.

"My car," Joyce snapped, catching Willow's arm on the other side, her keys already in hand.

Buffy glanced back and saw the gathering storm behind them. "Go...get the engine started," she ordered her mother in a hard voice and swung Willow up in her arms, carrying her with ease, though she had to grit her teeth against the dizziness that threatened to toss her to her knees.

"Yes," Xena agreed and rose gracefully before grabbing Gabrielle's shoulder and pushing her in the right direction. She rehooked her chakram in its customary place on her hip, spinning and trotting backwards as she drew the sword strapped across her back.

As the warrior watched, the spinning lights brightened, their power lifting Hope's slender figure into the air, spinning it round and round, tumbling in the energy, breaking it apart, then gradually reforming the tattered and withered body. She heard the sounds of doors opening, then pained groans and Buffy's voice ordering Gabrielle into the vehicle. In the distance, the other horseless chariot, the one belonging to Rupert Giles sputtered to life.

"Come on!" Buffy called out and the warrior princess knew it was her cue to leave. Backpedaling, she continued to watch the perversely beautiful sight until she had to duck her head to dive into the back of the accelerating horseless chariot. For once as she felt the vehicle surge into motion, she barely noticed it. Instead her full attention remained focused on the sight visible through the rear window of the vehicle until they had gone far enough that it was little more than a distant glow.

"Xena?" Gabrielle’s shaky voice brought her head back around until her eyes met her lover’s emerald gaze. Xena reached back, wrapping her arms around the smaller woman to pull her close.

"Is it real?" the bard’s voice was muffled against her chest as she clung desperately to Xena, absorbing the feel and smell of her.

Xena petted strawberry blond silk with a gentle hand. "I think so," she whispered.

Pressed against the still gasping Willow in the front seat, a protective arm wrapped around her friend, Buffy glanced up from her worried ministrations to look back at the two women. "It’s real enough," she exhaled, very aware of the slender form still trembling against her side. Willow had almost died while they all looked on, unable to help. That was more than real enough for her tastes.

Xena’s crystal gaze met the teen’s in a shared look of understanding. They were both charged with protecting those in their care and had both failed on too many occasions.