"I have a theory," Spike said as he sat on the steps that separated the center of the shop from the front. "Vengeance demons have some talent for precognition and that's what told Anya it was time to unload the place before all hell broke loose."

A snort came from Giles as his partner sorted through a stack of books, searching for any salvageable items. They'd both been working since early that morning, trying to assess the damage from last night's Hurricane Willow.

Reaching out and picking up another book from the pile next to him, Spike checked both spine and cover, and then dropped it into the "acceptable" pile. They'd been lucky; only a small portion of the stock was severely damaged and so far much of that was replaceable. Some were even expendable, like the Anne Rice paperbacks Willow had managed to hit with a bolt of energy meant for the nerds.

At this point, Spike was grateful for small favors, as they seemed the only ones available. Willow sedated, her powers drained, waiting for a decision to be made regarding her fate. Tara in critical condition in the hospital, though the doctors held out hope. Buffy with a shoulder injury that had been aggravated by attempting to contain Willow long enough for a binding spell to be performed. Anya angry and resentful because Xander seemed more worried about Willow's condition than any damage that might have been done to her. Jonathon and Andrew vanished into the night and Warren dead at Willow's hand. Giles with an ache in his shoulder from where he'd been knocked into a wall by a flying slayer. Spike nursed a burned hand that itched like the devil. Out of their circle, only Dawn and Xander had managed to escape without some type of physical injury...and in the wee hours of the morning, Xander had looked like his guts had been neatly ripped out by what happened to his friend.

If Spike felt sorry for the Whelp for the second time in as many weeks, things were pretty bad.

"The insurance company is going to love this." Giles brought his stack to join Spike's growing pile. "The premiums are probably going to go up. Again."

"Welcome to life in Sunnydale." Spike reached for another book, but the cover came off in his hand. Funny, it had looked fine. The fault must lie below the surface.

He hauled himself to his feet, suddenly unable to sit still. "What the hell are we doing?" he asked, pacing around the piles of debris. "Sitting around, sorting books...shouldn't we be taking care of Willow, checking on Tara...something?"

When he reached the end of his circuit and turned, Spike was a bit surprised to find Giles favoring him with something of a smile. "This isn't terribly easy for you, is it?"

"No. I usually left the clean up to the minions." Spike knew it wasn't what Giles meant, but it was the easiest thing to say. "I just..."

"You're not used to having people you care about hurt."

That brought a snort. "Shows you didn't spend twenty years with Darla and Angelus. Got to used to it a lot." He picked up one of their fertility statues, pleased to find it had survived. "Let's just say Dru was saner when she wasn't around them."

He carried the carving over to what was left of the counter. "My usual solution is to lash out; go all fists and fangs. All this...waiting for doctors, insurance adjusters...I want to actually do something. Wasn't able to do a hell of a lot yesterday."

"You helped us stop Willow. That was quite a contribution," Giles said as his cell phone trilled. "Don't discount that. Giles here."

While Giles spoke with his caller, Spike took another look around the shop, trying to wrap his mind around all that needed to be done. He was quite aware of the damage the Slayer could do; he'd gleefully helped Buffy on more than one occasion. Somehow it was a little different when he was responsible for the repairs.

The front of the shop was reasonably intact, bookcases and cabinets still standing with their contents. It was the center and the back that had taken the brunt of the destruction, bookcases toppled and cracked, stock strewn everywhere. The research table had a deep gouge in the wood and a crack in the center. The counter glass had been shattered and most of the herbs kept on the shelves behind it now lay in heaps on the floor. The salamander eyes had dried out and those were a bitch to scrape off linoleum.

The back wall had a large gaping hole looking through to the training room, the result of an energy bolt. That was the most worrisome, requiring engineers, inspectors and all sorts of officials of the type that made Spike very nervous. He wondered if the wall was load bearing and they were in for further trouble.

"No, we haven't made any firm plans," Giles was saying. "I'd like her to be a part of that if she possibly can. Yes, it would be better if she came along willingly; make her recovery that much easier. I'm supposed to see her in a few hours. We're waiting for the insurance adjuster to take a look at the shop. Oh, I didn't tell you? Anya's not actually my partner anymore. No, I have a new one. Can't very well run the shop from Bath, now can I? I'll tell you about him at some point."

The door opened to admit Anya, looking surprisingly good for someone who'd been up most of the night. Giles waved to her as he finished his conversation. "I'll call later and let you know. We should have firmer details then."

Anya was looking around as he got off the phone. "This is not going to be easy to fix," she said.

"Most of the damage is cosmetic," Giles insisted. "We rebuild the bookcases, restock and we're back in business."

"Some of this stock is almost irreplaceable and since Willow so obligingly put a hole through the wall, you really should consider finishing the job and convert the training room to more sales space."

"No," Giles and Spike said in unison.

Anya shrugged. "Not my concern. When's the adjuster supposed to get here?"

"Soon." Spike grabbed a chair from the floor and righted it. "Have a seat, pet. Aside from us being grateful you came to help with the insurance since I know bugger all about it, Giles and I have a little proposition for you."

***

Dawn was doing her best to concentrate on homework, but the constant re-arranging of books and papers was a sure sign her mind wasn't actually on the reproductive cycle of earthworms. Nor did Buffy miss the glances her sister kept casting toward the stairs.

They stayed that way for some time, Buffy folding laundry, Dawn re-arranging her textbooks another five times. Then a door upstairs shut and there was the faint sound of running water. Both Buffy and Dawn looked toward the ceiling, then turned back to their tasks.

After another two minutes of silence -- and yet another re-arrangement of Dawn's homework -- the silence ended. "Is she supposed to be up?" Dawn asked.

"Giles is taking her to see Tara." She folded another towel and laid it in stack on the dinning room table as silence descended once more.

More folding as Dawn's pen scratched across her paper. Another shift of the textbook. "What are they going to do to her?"

"Excuse me?" The question seemed to come from left field, but Dawn's expression was serious.

"What's going to happen to Willow? I didn't get the whole story last night, but I gather she went pretty postal with the magic." Dawn tapped her pencil against the table surface. "Can't blame her, really, what with Warren shooting Tara, but it's scary to think she lost control."

Because the last time Willow had lost control, Dawn had paid the price. Buffy remembered that night in November all too well and didn't like to think of what might have happened if she and Spike hadn't shown up when they did.

Buffy hadn't really considered what impression Dawn must have of the previous night's events. It wasn't so much that she'd wanted to shield her younger sister from what happened; she'd simply been so bone weary when they'd made it home that once Willow was dealt with, she'd given Dawn the barest of details before dropping into bed. "It was a little more serious than losing control," she said quietly, dropping the towel back into the laundry basket. "There are some things I should tell you."

Giles arrived as Buffy reached the draining spell. Dawn's expression was now bordering on grim and she'd been silent for the last ten minutes. Neither was a good sign, but it wasn't something Buffy could deal with at the moment.

Giles looked tired, his glasses doing little to hide the bags under his eyes. "Any movement?" he asked, inclining his head toward the stairs.

"Taking a shower. I got her to eat earlier."

Giles nodded and they stood there in the foyer, neither seeming to know what to say next. In the dining room, Dawn rearranged her books yet again.

"Giles, what are we going to do?" Buffy said at last, unable to stand the silence any longer. "You said you knew someone who could help her."

"When we get back from the hospital, we'll discuss it then." He patted her on the shoulder. "I've asked Xander to come by, and Anya and Spike as well. Willow's going to need all her friends."

"Can't we see Tara?" Dawn asked, rising from the table to join the conversation.

Giles shook his head. "She's still in Intensive Care. In a few days, yes, but right now, it's restricted to family and even then it's only twenty minutes."

"We thought it best Giles go with Willow just...in case," Buffy told her sister.

Again with the silence and grim expression, but Dawn nodded. "Makes sense and, yeah, Willow should see her first."

With that she headed back to her homework and Buffy drew Giles into the living room. "I talked to her parents this morning...well, Mr. Rosenberg, at least."

Giles rolled his eyes. "At least it wasn't Mrs. Rosenberg. I imagine we'll be hearing from her soon enough."

"Tomorrow, probably. They're coming over at ten."

"I'll be here at nine-thirty, then. Provide what moral support I can."

"Good, 'cause I don't think I'm going to run short of needing that any time soon."

They both turned to find Willow on the stairs. Her hair hung limply on her shoulders, her face pale. No, pale wasn't the right word; it was more like all color had been leeched from her. Her hand gripped the banister as if that was all that kept her upright.

Giles greeted Willow with a smile and Buffy did her best to follow his lead. "How do you feel?" he asked.

"Awful." She took a few steps forward. "All kinda empty. It's like I'm wrapped in a thick blanket. Everything's muffled."

"That's the result of the draining spell. I'm afraid it rather dulls the senses."

"At least I still have senses to dull." Willow reached the bottom of the stairs and sank onto the last step. "Not like..."

Her head dropped forward to rest on her crossed arms. It was as if not just her power, but also her energy had been drained by the spell last night. Problem was, Buffy wasn't really sure what to do or say. Gee, Willow. Sorry you feel horrible about flaying Warren alive and trying to kill the rest of us. Somehow that didn't seem either useful or helpful.

Giles seemed far more certain, making his way to the stairs and sitting down beside Willow. "I know you feel awful and dreadful and you probably think we should never forgive you..."

"There aren't enough chips in the world to make this right," Willow moaned, her voice muffled by her arms.

"Probably not, but there are other things you should be thinking about at this moment. Tara, of course."

This was greeted with another moan. "I thought she was dead."

"But she isn't. And I doubt you want to upset her when you see here."

Willow looked up, her eyes large and liquid. "She won't understand. I felt her die, Giles. She was there and then suddenly...she wasn't."

Giles put an arm around her shoulder. "I'm not saying you shouldn't feel guilt or remorse for happened. At the moment, though -- for the twenty minutes that you can see Tara -- I would think you'd want to dwell on the fact that she is alive."

It wasn't a resounding show of support, but the words seemed to help calm Willow a little. "I...I think I can do that."

Giles nodded, falling easily into the role of father figure. "As for the rest, once we come back from the hospital, we can talk. I've asked your friends to be here to support you but it's a decision you need to make. There are some options. Now," he rose to his feet, "Why don't you splash some water on your face and we'll go see Tara."

Without a word, Willow headed back up the stairs. "What do you think?" Buffy asked, coming to join him.

"She'll make it through the visit. Hopefully, we can help her make it through the discussion later. It would probably be best if she's made her decision before she speaks with her parents."

Somehow, Buffy doubted this was going to be the most pleasant of Scooby meetings. "You're probably right. It's just..." She looked up the stairs. "It's hard. Willow's my friend, Giles. We've known each other six years."

"Of course, it's hard. But you'll do what you can to help her because she is your friend. This isn't like the situation with Angel, Buffy. There's much worse things Willow would have to do before any of us might be called upon to kill her. That's why we bound and drained her, because we didn't want her to go that far."

The mention of Angel was uncomfortable, but then this entire situation was uncomfortable. She couldn't help feeling they were all trying to act normal, like this was the typical let down after what seemed to be their annual world-savage. Only, the world itself hadn't actually been in danger and it was one of their own they'd defeated.

Willow came downstairs again, her face freshly scrubbed and wearing a different top. "Tara always liked this one better," she said by way of explanation. Giles simply smiled, gently took her by the arm and led her toward the door. "We should be back in a couple of hours," he called over his shoulder to Buffy. "I think it best Willow talk to Tara's doctor and get a full picture of the situation."

Then they were gone and half the tension suddenly vanished from the house. "So what time is Spike coming over?" Dawn asked, unfolding herself from her chair. "Do we need to get snacks?"

Buffy sighed. "It's not exactly a party, Dawn. Giles has been trying to come up with some options for Willow and we're supposed to discuss them."

Dawn crossed her arms and favored her sister with a "what are you thinking?" look. "You want to put Xander in a room with Anya and Spike and not give him anything to keep him occupied?"

Buffy thought for a moment. "Good point. We'd better make a run to the store."

***

The hospital was quiet...too quiet for Willow's taste as she and Giles made their way to the intensive care unit. Relations of other patients were checking in at the nurses' station, silent and somber pairs arriving for their twenty minutes. For a moment, Willow thought her courage would leave her, that she wouldn't have the strength to face Tara after what she had done.

But Giles' hand was at her elbow as they stepped up to the station to check in and wait their turn. She tried to focus on that, use it to center herself. It was hard; she didn't realize she was woolgathering until Giles led her toward the hard plastic chairs that lined the wall of the waiting area. "It should be only a minute or two," he assured her as they sat.

Willow nodded. Only a few minutes and she'd be with Tara, see for herself that she was alive. Last night, she'd been able to touch her mind for a moment before the binding spell slammed home, but until she could see the proof with her own eyes, there was a part of her that wouldn't believe.

"Miss Rosenberg?" A nurse stood in the door. "You can go in now."

She surged to her feet, then hesitated. This was it. She knew she needed to be brave, put on her resolve face and do nothing that might upset Tara. That was the formula Giles had given her and she intended to stick with it. Follow the directions and everything would be okay.

Tara was asleep when they entered, the gentle rise and fall of her chest keeping time with the machines. Machines were all around her, a tube in her mouth to assist her breathing. She was so still and pale that it was hard to believe she was still alive.

Willow sank into a chair next to the bed and reached out to take Tara's hand. It was warm, the first tangible evidence that her lover was still in this world. "Should I say something?" she whispered to Giles. "Talk to her, let her know I'm here?"

"Whatever you think is best. Just holding her hand might be enough. On some level, she probably knows you're here."

It was simplest to follow that suggestion, hold Tara's hand between her own. This was something she could focus on, make all of yesterday's events disappear. Even with the machines and the beeping, she could still feel the peace Tara's presence brought. Willow locked onto that and held tight.

They sat in silence for fifteen minutes and Willow was beginning to think she might not wake before their time was up, but then Tara stirred slightly and her eyes fluttered heavily, struggling open. Instantly, Willow leaned forward. "Tara?"

The response was a squeeze of her hand, weak but still there. "I'm here, baby. They won't let me stay long because they say you need to rest as much as possible, but I'm here."

Another squeeze and Willow could feel a smile spread across her face as the words began to tumble forth, silly inconsequential things to amuse her love. It kept her from speaking of more serious things, of how long it would take Tara to heal, of who would take care of her, what had happened last night and what would happen to Willow now. If she focused on the inconsequentials, she could believe that everything would be okay.

All too soon, time was up and the nurse was there to see them out, moving to check the machines and medication that dripped into Tara's veins. Willow managed to stay strong until they were through the doors and back in the waiting room. Then she collapsed in Giles' arms. "What have I done?" she wailed, soaking his tweed jacket with tears. "How can I tell her? She'll hate me."

"You don't know that, Willow." He held her, but the embrace brought no comfort. "As for telling her...I don't think she's strong enough to hear it yet and I don't think you're strong enough to say the words."

He slipped his hand under her chin and tipped her head back. "Don't think about what you're going to tell her yet. First we find out what her doctor has to say. Then we decide how to help you. You can't help Tara if you don't take care of yourself."

Giles' voice was firm, his eyes fixed on hers. She felt herself drawing on some his resolve to bolster her own. She didn't know if she was doing it on her own or if he was lending her strength, but she wasn't going to question it. She could feel the panic recede and a touch of calm return. Taking advantage of it, she put on her resolve face once more and said, "Let's go find that doctor."

On to Part 2

On to Registering the Dead

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