It hurt. Her lungs felt leaden, eyes burned, and her throat too tight to say a word. Still, the pain of Cordelia and Oz's chilliness towards her paled when compared to the agony of her own guilt.

Even Death on her Doorstep with its fangs, claws and green lightning-bolts didn't take the pain away. From the moment they'd found themselves working with Giles, Cordelia had launched into Willow about what a slut she was, how she had coldly manipulated Xander into just where she wanted him, and how she had used Oz in a manner far worse than anything Cordy herself had ever done.

The problem was, Cordelia was right. For all her snobbish airs, Cordelia Chase had never poached on a friend's boyfriend.

And Oz hadn't defended Willow once. His silence cut just as deep as Cordelia's words. Looking at him, his short almost blond hair, and the ever-present sadness and betrayal reflected in his eyes just cut Willow to pieces. How could she have done this to him? Why had she let herself kiss Xander? She knew it was wrong, she didn't want Xander, she wanted Oz. So why did she have to screw it all up?

The Demon bellowed. Unfortunately, there were no earth-shattering revelations in that. Staring up at the creature, Willow shuddered. The guilt didn't matter, nothing did. If they survived this, she could work to rebuilding Oz's lost faith in her. Where there was life, there was always hope. And a little Faith or Buffy wouldn't have been too remiss right about then, either.

Less than twenty minutes later, hope started to fade. The creature's blasts were getting stronger. Their last shelter, a huge outcropping of stalagmites, had provided the perfect maze to hide in. Ever moving from pillar to pillar, they'd had perhaps five minutes of respite between blasts. Still, it had only taken three blasts to level the entire area, and they'd escaped with mere seconds to spare.

"Well, I hope you're happy, Willow Rosenberg." Cordelia bit off bitterly, leaning against the rear wall of the cavern, her entire body shielded from the demon's sight by the rock overhang. "First you screw around on your boyfriend with mine, and then you get us killed. I suppose this is so you can have Xander all to yourself."

It was like being shot, in the way the jolt ripped through Willow. At first, the astonishment that Cordelia could even think it, then the disgust at what the brunette had said, and finally, the rage, when Oz didn't dispute it, and Cordelia didn't retract the accusation but embellished.

"Tell me, how long did it take you to decide to summon a demon? Did you get Xander to hold the spellbook?"

"How DARE you!" Willow turned about, her voice becoming soft but frigid. "I can't believe you'd say that of me! I make one mistake, and I become a murderer?"

"It's just a step away from being a boyfriend stealing slut." The kid gloves were obviously off. "I don't know what to think of you anymore. I never thought YOU were the kind to grope another girl's boyfriend."

Willow winced. As long as Cordelia kept raising up that specter, Oz would never forgive her. Shaking her head, but admitting defeat, she turned away. "We're going to die, and they'll both still hate me."

The creature eased back onto its haunches. From physical appearance, it eerily resembled the old mythological gryphons. It had a falcon's head, serpent's neck and lion's body, all in the blackest of blacks. The black beak parted, revealing rows of sharp teeth and a long serpentine tongue that whipped out to test the air.

Willow couldn't remember its name; she'd only seen it in passing in one of the older texts Giles had in his private collection. What it did, though, she had a full recollection of. With the lightning, or energy, it unleashed it evaporated any living creature, feeding off the destruction of a soul. In scientific terms, it fed through the conservation of matter.

"I wonder if total instant incineration hurts?" she asked herself rhetorically.

The creature raised one massive forearm, the paw curling into a loose fist. "This is bad." It was the first words Oz had said, since they'd met earlier that evening at the library, that had included Willow. "There's no where else to run." He sighed, resigned.

Willow slanted a look at him, not turning her head. The sorrow in his eyes, the distance he'd created between them was as present as the resignation in his face. It just broke Willow's heart one more time. He was too sweet, and far too kind for this world, she sometimes believed. No matter what, for all they had been through, neither Cordelia nor Oz deserved to be in this situation, to see death hovering above them.

Maybe it was the feeling of the energy being evoked, or the sudden awareness of death's imminence, but Cordelia let go of her bitter complaints, and whimpered. Despite all the fury Cordy had raised in her earlier, Willow felt it all dissipate in one solid rush. "There HAS to be something. I've got to do something. Think, Rosenberg..."

Adrenaline kicked in viciously, setting a door open in her mind. Words, text and concepts she'd only noticed in passing suddenly clicked, coming together with deadly precision and understanding. "If it never existed, it can't destroy... If I undo its creation..." The most forbidden thought in all of nature, one that magic was even required to obey. What nature had created, no man or woman could rend asunder. But, creatures of unnatural creation were in the gray areas of magic's rules.

The green light had given way to the sparks of the upcoming blast. There were perhaps seconds left before the demon unleashed its fury. Beside her, Willow heard Oz suck in a disbelieving breath. "I can't let you die. I can't. I lost your heart, but I won't lose your life." She swore in pure silence, reaching out to shove Oz back against the cavern wall with all the strength she could muster.

Twisting, she reached up, letting her subconscious mind dictate her body's actions. The spell required a sigil, which she sketched out swiftly, and easily. Curves formed loops, and loops dissolved into complex lines as the pattern was formed. To her inner-eye, it glowed with the pure white fire of life. The pattern was complete, and she paused, admiring the deadly beauty of the death-spell. "Wow." Brown eyes softened for a moment, a thousand thoughts all racing together and culminating in one final whisper. "I'm sorry."

She didn't strike out with the Slayer's strength, but with her own, her fist slamming through the center of the sigil, shattering life brutally. Like the splitting of an atom, the power raised was incredible and destructive. It was also all Willow's to control, for now.

The Demon howled, unleashing it's storm, and Willow raised both her hands and faced it alone and undaunted. Power danced, lacing into her body and blood with the same intoxication of champagne. Once a bright white of pure energy, it was now a ruby-red, and it tore through the demon's blast, and surrounded the demon before it began to falter. "NOOOOO!" Willow closed her eyes and bit down on her lip in concentration. Her body felt too heavy, her arms were struggling to stay upright. "I�have�to�hold�on!" Sweat dripped down her face, or was it tears? Her head was throbbing, a side effect of unprepared magic, she knew.

The Demon roared, and took a step towards her. There was no time or energy for thought, just a quick heave of her chest indicated the panic Willow felt. "I have to DO this!"

"What will you give for their lives?"

Willow's eyes popped open. Without turning back to look, she knew it wasn't Oz or Cordelia who had spoken. That voice wasn't human. It wasn't even really a voice, more like a feeling or a personality than a sound.

"What price will you give for their lives?" it asked again.

Was it her subconscious? If so, it was a dumb question. "Everything. I'd give everything." Her life, her soul, her body and anything else that was hers to give just to know that she had saved Oz and Cordelia's life.

"Agreed."

Power slipped through her, filling her veins with a force unlike anything Willow had ever dreamed. It should have destroyed her body from inside out, the magnitude of it all. Instead, though, it was discharged on the demon.

Second by second, she felt every painful inch of the creature's destruction. She felt it die, and then come apart on a cellular level. It didn't stop there�the destruction continued onto a molecular level, and further until the creature was removed from time's fabric altogether.

And her power died with the creature. "Ohhhh." Willow's arms dropped, shoulders sagging with a weariness beyond comprehension. Amazing how dark the cave was without the green lights, or the red glory of power. Dark, warm and safe, like a mother's womb.

"WILLOW!" Giles voice seemed so distant, and it must have been; he was on the other side of the cave-in.

The death of the demon passed without Giles being aware of it. Instead, disregarding the pounding in his head, he ran as hard as he could down to the base of the escarpment, painfully aware that despite all his haste he would be too late.

His pale eyes stayed fix on the small girl, watching the trembling set into her raised hands, and then her body. She had gone too far, tapping past her own reserves into her lifeforce and then beyond. The ashen colour of her face, in sharp contrast to the rich red of blood trickling down her chin, indicated a shortage of oxygen. "We are going to have a long discussion on magic, Ms. Rosenberg, when this is all over," he promised in a scarced whisper.

Oz and Cordelia still sat against the stone wall, staring at Willow's back with blank expressions. The volume of hair, and the heavy sweater hid her body's keen trembling and disguised just how much harm she had done to herself. "Damn." Giles hissed, wishing he'd intervened earlier. They would likely sit there until it was too late, and then regret their inaction. This anger and guilt over a stupid mistake would be the destruction of them all.

"WILLOW!" Giles bellowed, as her eyes drifted closed. Her head slowly rolled forward, and her body weight began to collapse under it's own uncontrolled mass. "Catch her!" Giles shouted again, this time directing his words to Oz and Cordelia.

Their stunned gazes turned to him, the startled confusion they felt shining through. Willow was already collapsing, and neither moved a muscle.

"Christ!" Buffy's curse rang out from behind him. Giles didn't pause, didn't look back, he just kept on moving, silently agreeing with Buffy as Willow's head struck the ground with an audible 'thump.'

Oz was shambling to his feet and slowly approaching Willow by the time Giles skidded beside the fallen girl, dropping to his knees as he reached out for her pulse. "Oh, no. No you don't," he muttered, rolling her over and tilting up her head. Pinching her nose, he carefully began mouth to mouth resuscitation, mindless of the thought that not only was the girl not breathing, but also she had no pulse.

Buffy dropped beside him a second later, reaching out for Willow's wrist. She dropped it instantly, and began CPR, much to Giles' surprise. Lifting his head on the measured count, he glanced at her, trying to determine if she actually knew what she was doing.

"Don't," Buffy said shortly, keeping the carefully beated rhythm needed to sustain Willow's heart. "I've a Slayer's strength. I can do this as long as I need to. You can't."

She was right, Giles conceded, dropping down to continue administering the three breaths Willow's blood needed to remain oxygenated. The constant force needed to administer successful CPR was incredibly tolling on a body, and Buffy had a supernatural strength, one that would prevent her muscles from over-tiring prematurely.

"What are you doing?" Oz found his voice. "Is Willow okay?" He reached out to touch the redhead, denying what Buffy's expression was saying.

Shortly, Giles pushed the boy away. "Get out of our way." He growled, loosing his patience. "She died to save you, now let us try and save her."

Oz fell back, his eyes widening and chest heaving as shock and pain began to intermingle. The love he felt for Willow welled up, and threatened to overwhelm him as the reality of Giles' words set in. Willow had saved them, had saved him, but left him alone. Furiously, he shook his head, denying everything. "No. No. No. Not my Will..."

Giles and Buffy remained silent, maintaining their frantic efforts to keep Willow's body alive. With each pump to her heart, Willow's body convulsed, although her ribs had long since stopped breaking.

"We have to get her to a hospital." Giles said shortly, glancing at Buffy's frowning expression.

The Slayer grunted. "How? If we stop, she dies. If we keep going, she still dies. I don't like these odds, Giles." Oz's moan was ignored, as Willow's need was far, far greater.

"We have to�" Giles froze, looking up at the man dropping beside them in surprise. "How? The opening� We have to get Willow..."

Angel shook his head, moving to rest Willow's head on his lap. "Trust me," he muttered, tilting her head to expose her neck. "I won't hurt her." Before Giles or Buffy could respond, he vamped and struck out, biting down on the girl's neck with such speed that Buffy couldn't have staked him first.

Oz howled, launching himself at the vampire.

As quickly as he struck, Angel stopped, absently shrugging Oz off as he lifted his hand to his wrist. "I didn't take enough." He informed Giles quickly, before the Watcher could sic his Slayer on him. "Enough to create a tie between us, it will be short lived. They always are."

Giles blinked, unable to fathom what the vampire meant by that. He wasn't too particularly comfortable with Angel at the best of times. The memories of Jenny's body sprawled across his bed tended to haunt him heavily when Angel was near.

Angel lifted his hand to his mouth, and nipped, quickly applying the rising blood to Willow's mouth. "I need to make her swallow a drop or two. No more. Not enough to vamp her," he explained hastily, sensing Buffy's recoiling opposition. "It won't heal her," he continued, moving his hand to stroke Willow's mouth, urging an involuntary swallow. "But, if I do this, I can make her heart beat, and make her breathe. At least, until we get her to a hospital. Then, it's up to science to bring her back."

Buffy glanced quickly at Giles, silently asking for confirmation. Rocking back onto his heels, Giles studied Angel's face with due caution, before finally nodding assent. "Is it working?"

The vampire frowned, his brow furrowing in the same expression of concentration that Willow used. "You tell me," he gritted out.

Buffy gripped Willow's wrist again, easily locating a pulse point, and then waited. "We have heartbeat," she announced, glancing at the thin chest. "And respiration. Let's move."

Wordlessly, Angel gathered up Willow's tiny body, using the close contact to keep tabs on Willow's autonomic functions. The girl's head lay against his shoulder, giving her the innocent look of a sleeper. The feeling he got from her, however, said otherwise. This was a shell, Willow's spirit either having fled life, or had retreated deep inside her mind to await final death.

Without waiting for the others, he turned and made for the opening, hoping the large lever Faith had constructed out of wood and stone was successfully holding the opening in his absence.

Buffy turned to Oz and Cordelia. "Snap out of it." Her voice was crisp, and her patience thin in her anxiety. They stared at her like two stuffed dolls, all substance and no personality. "She'll be fine."

"She saved us," Oz whispered.

Buffy flicked a glance at him, out of the corner of her eye. "Yes, she did," she agreed, shepherding them towards freedom. "And you can thank her later."

"Can I?" The guitarist's shoulders slumped. "She's dead. She's gone." He looked up to Angel's swiftly retreating form, with his burden barely visible. "And I didn't tell her I still love her."

He could feel his control slipping. Tightening his arms about Willow's body, Angel bent his mind to the task, despite the growing resistance. If she had even ingested a drop of his blood, he was lucky, he supposed. The fact that there was no life in the body made getting the blood into her all the harder. "Don't you dare die, Willow Anne Rosenberg," he growled softly, "or I will make sure the only thing your laptop can do is play Mickey Mouse games."

The others were some distance behind him, but Angel wasn't willing to wait. As he had ducked through the narrow opening between the caverns, he'd first noticed the weakness of his control on Willow's body. For a brief moment, her heart had stopped again. It had taken some effort, but Angel had regained control, and then decided the sooner he got her to the hospital, the far better for everyone's peace of mind.

Now, as he opened the door to Oz's van, he was loathe to let her go, but knew that he couldn't run to the hospital as fast as he could drive. "Six minutes without oxygen to the brain, and she's dead," he reminded himself viciously. "So don't dawdle."

Gently, he set her in the passenger seat, carefully reclining the chair to cradle her flaccid limbs. Locking the seatbelt into place, he touched her throat softly, just below his bite marks. The pulse was still there�weak, but there. Even if he lost control of her heart beat, so long as he restored it before brain death occurred, there was a chance for her. "Fifty years ago, we'd have just started digging the hole by now."

Oz was a creature of habit, which given the fact that he was also a werewolf, really didn't surprise Angel. Every other were-creature that Angel or Angelus had encountered had retained the behaviour of their animalistic side. Wolves were creatures of habit�they defined their domain, set periods for hunting, sleeping, roaming, and playing, and stuck to those practices.

Oz was much the same. He had his comfort zone, his habits, and his methods of play. And he didn't diversify much from those habits. Usually. The boy's avoidance of Willow, though, that was out of the ordinary, despite the circumstances that caused it. Wolves were monogamous; but a strayed mate would usually be forgiven.

"But you didn't give him the opportunity to forgive." Angel caught himself chastising the silent figure beside him. "You gave up." Logically, that wasn't true. Willow had made the bravest sacrifice of all, willingly giving her life to save two others. It was an act done out of love, not duty, which made it all the more heartbreaking.

The van turned over easily, a credit to Oz's regular maintenance of the older vehicle. It was in far better shape than Giles' Citroen. Sunnydale Community hospital was a good fifteen minutes away, assuming the speed limit was observed.

Angel wasn't about to spare such trivialities his attention. He turned to check Willow one more time, his fingers lingering above her mouth to catch the moist warmth of a breath. "Don't you stop breathing, now!" He told her sternly. This was not good. If he drove, one of her primary systems would definitely fail. If he didn't drive, the blood would leave her system too soon. "Damn."

Oz yanked open the driver's door, panting heavy. "I'll drive." He said with gasped breaths. "You keep her alive."

Angel blinked. "How?" He looked past the boy to the cavern opening. The others weren't in sight, or anywhere nearby.

Oz shrugged, pushing Angel towards Willow, and taking his usual seat. "I ran."

Angel crouched in the space between the two front seat chairs, one hand wrapped around Willow's wrist. "You should join the track team." He muttered. "Sunnydale High could use the help."

Oz grunted, taking the van out of park. "Unfair advantage," he said shortly, his head refusing to glance in Angel's direction. If he took a look at Willow's white face, he knew he'd loose it. Few things in life ever really rattled him, but watching Willow kiss Xander, and then watching Willow die, that really upset him.

He needed her to live. She just had to. He needed to tell her he was sorry, that he forgave her, that he still loved her. He just needed so much to hold her, touch her and know that she was feeling his touch.

He needed to understand why she had kissed Xander, and then to make sure she never wanted to again. He needed her, not the memory of her.

"Are you planning on doing the speed limit?" Angel asked, incredulously. Oz's face was a study of concentration. Jaw rigid, forehead furrowed, the boy was staring at the road ahead of him like it was some sort of paradox. "No," Oz said flatly. "Do you mind?"

Angel shrugged, turning sharply to eye the rise and fall of Willow's chest suspiciously. For just a fraction of a moment, he'd thought she'd paused in breathing, against his express wishes to the contrary. "Would you quit arguing with me?" he muttered. "There will be no dying happening here!"

Oz shuddered, and pressed down heavier on the gas. Maybe doing 80 along the winding part of the highway wouldn't be so bad, after all. Gritting his teeth, his fingers tightened on the wheel, and he pretended not to feel it when the van wasn't on all four wheels.

The lights of Sunnydale grew closer with every passing second. By the clock on the dash, Oz knew he'd been driving three minutes before Angel cursed audibly. At four minutes, Angel was removing the seatbelt from Willow and laying her flat on the floor, one hand at her pulse-point.

He still refused to look.

It wasn't until Angel started muttering to himself, pleading with Willow, that Oz floored it and started to run red lights. Nearly sideswiping an ambulance, he tore into the emergency round about, vaulting from the car to the side sliding door. Angel had already gathered Willow up. As soon as the door opened, he ran for the ER.

"Help her!" Angel shouted, using that deep loud booming sound of voice that always seemed to get immediate attention. "She's not breathing!"

Like magic, and maybe it was a type of magic, a team approached, one reaching out to touch Willow, lifting her eyelids. "How long ago did she stop breathing?"

Angel shook his head. "I don't know, no more than a minute. She was having problems on our way here, but she only just stopped. DO something."

A tall man with graying hair signaled urgently to a coworker. "We are, sir. We need some information though." In seconds Willow was on a gurney, beginning CPR on her, but with the advanced techniques that hadn't been available in the cavern. Three people worked on her, for the most part blocking their view of their labors on Willow's still body.

Angel clamped a steadying hand on Oz, feeling the boy start when they began to insert a tube into her. Physically, he forced Oz to turn away. "What do you need to know?"

The man led them away from the scene, the idea being that distance would help calm them down, and allow the professionals the space they needed to work. "I need her name, and her age. Did she eat anything unusual today, something she might be allergic to, like peanuts? When did you notice she was in distress?"

Angel's jaw locked, his final connection to Willow dissolving away. He knew the call was coming before he even heard it.

"No pulse." A defibrillator hummed behind them.

"Oh, God." Oz whimpered, sounding so much like a little boy, and not the calm pillar he'd always been for Willow.

"Her name is Willow Rosenberg," Angel managed steadily. "She's 16 years old."

"17. She was...is 17." Oz corrected mechanically.

Angel winced. Another thing missed while he was tearing their lives apart as Angelus. "She's 17. I haven't seen her eat anything, so I don't know."

Oz shook his head. "She hasn't eaten."

The nurse or doctor, the boys weren't sure which, wrote this down hastily. "I'll need her parent's phone number," he intoned calmly. "Where did this happen?"

"Cradles' peak," Oz mumbled.

The man's eyebrow raised, "Cradle's peak? Why were you up there at this time of the night?"

Angel and Oz both froze. Each suspecting 'demon slaying' was not a valid answer.

"She was helping me with my science project on astronomy." Cordelia's voice was a gift from heaven. Filled with tears, shaky and sad, it was the most beautiful sound either Angel or Oz had ever heard. It meant the calvary had arrived.

Oz turned slowly, his despair so evident on his face. Buffy didn't hesitate�she smoothly pulled the boy into a hug, letting him borrow her strength. "She'll be okay," the Slayer promised with a soft whisper. "She has to be. The Scooby gang doesn't die!"

"Astronomy?" the doctor murmured. "I see. I'll still need her phone number."

Buffy pulled Oz away, allowing Giles to play the role of mature responsible adult. "Where is she?" she asked, looking past Oz to Angel for the answer.

"Over there." Angel pointed down the hall. "They moved her while talking to us. Last I heard, they were using shocks to get her heart started."

Buffy's face paled. "Oh."

She sank down into a seat, still cradling Oz. Giles was on the phone now, no doubt having offered to contact Willow's parents for the doctor. He looked so old, so tired, she thought. As if he'd just witnessed the death of his own child, and lost fifty years of his own life in the process.

It seemed like an eternity, but he finally nodded to the unseen voice at the other end of the phone, and hung up. With a word to the attendant, he slowly walked towards them.

Four pairs of eager eyes looked up at him, all wanting the words of comfort and wisdom that he didn't have to offer. "They won't say anything," Giles informed them sadly. "At least, not until they can speak with her parents. I took the liberty to also inform Xander of the situation."

Both Oz and Cordelia stiffened, but relaxed thinking how they'd be upset if they had been at home unaware and uninformed of the situation happening here. Giles favored them both with a sad little smile. "He and his parents will be here shortly, I daresay."

Buffy nodded. "Good. Willow would want everyone here rooting for her."

Time seemed to crawl, the emergency room a stale environment for waiting in, especially when the news could be so terrible. The longer they waited, the more they despaired; even though, conversely, the saying 'no news is good news' was doubly true in this place. The longer it took for the doctor came out, the more likely it was that Willow was with them still.

Willow's parents arrived first. The love they held for their only child clear in the anxiety. Walking through the doors, Ira and Sarah Rosenberg paused, Ira heading towards the information desk, and Sarah approaching the small cluster of Willow's friends. The pale colour of her face and redness of her eyes belied the apparent calm in her mannerisms.

"Thank you for calling." She smiled sadly, falling into the hug Giles offered with no other word. In the course of the summer, Willow had made a point of insuring the lonely Brit had a few adult companions to socialize with by introducing him to her parents as her favorite teacher.

Sarah and Ira were intellectuals, both appreciating theoretical and philosophical discussions, as well as the nuances of cultural history. All these things were topics Giles strongly related to, and allowed a strong adult friendship to develop. "You're welcome," he replied softly, as Sarah pulled back to gently enfold her daughter's boyfriend in a hug.

"Have you heard anything?" she asked the entire group while taking a seat beside Oz, holding onto his hand with the soothing clasp of a mother.

Angel shook his head. "They won't talk to us, we're not family."

Sarah sniffed indignity. The expression on her face a clear sign of where Willow had inherited her 'resolve face.' "They will now," she resolved firmly. The look she sent to her husband across the room spoke entire volumes.

Sluggishly, Ira Rosenberg shambled back to his wife. "She's on a ventilator with a heart monitor," he murmured softly, nodding to Giles in passing. "They said it was a fight, but...they got her."

A collective sigh released itself.

"What type of fight?" Sarah asked acerbically. "How much did they have to do?"

Ira looked at her helplessly.

Sarah pursed her lips. "I see," she murmured. It didn't truly surprise her�her husband's understanding of medicine was seriously limited. He was a lawyer, she was the doctor, albeit, a pediatrician. "Why don't you ask the doctor to join us and explain Willow's treatment?" she suggested.

Buffy almost smiled, as Ira turned away to do his wife's bidding. In his own way, Ira was just as whipped as Oz was to Willow.

Ira returned with the Doctor just in time for Xander to join the sad group. Giving his Aunt Sarah a hug, Xander removed himself to sit isolated from Oz and Cordelia, knowing they wouldn't want him nearby, and for once, respecting their wishes.

"Dr. Rosenberg?" An older woman with a kind, but tired face, smiled down at them. "I'm Elizabeth Carter, the primary doctor on your daughter's case. Your husband said you had some questions?"

Cordelia stood up, allowing Ira to sit down beside his wife. A look of resolve slid across her features, and daring greatly, she moved to sit beside Xander, offering her estranged boyfriend her hand. He squeezed tightly, the only betraying sign of his emotions.

"Yes." Sarah reached out with her other hand for Ira's. "I was wondering precisely what kind of lengths you had to go to in order to revive my daughter. I need to know what her odds are."

The doctor smiled, sitting on a small coffee table littered with magazines. "Doctors always are the worst when it's their children in the hospital." She smiled sadly. "Willow arrived in a state of respiratory shock. We began CPR. We used manual chest compressions until we could insert an endotracheal tube. Given your daughter's size, this was not easy. However, we were successful."

The woman gently set some magazines aside, allowing herself to get comfortable in her seat. Taking them all into her gaze, she continued. "We ordered a Chem-7, and a CBC, of course, while the ECG was being attached." Pausing, she glanced again at the young adults around her. "An ECG is a heart monitor," she informed them, granting them information by using terminology they could understand. "And a CBC helps us determine the blood count. It was at this point that she went into cardiac arrest. We administered three shocks with progressive voltage, but still failed to gain results."

Dr. Carter wearily rubbed her thigh, always hating giving out such detailed information to people who could understand the severity of the situation by her words. Sarah Rosenberg's little gasp had not gone unnoticed by the doctor. "Using the ECG readings as basis, we began ventricular fibrillation. This means, we administered some stimulants to the IV: adrenaline, lignocaine and bretylium. We also continued to administer shocks between each dose. This worked. Willow has retained a pulse on her own for the past twenty-five minutes. We are monitoring that closely. The longer she remains unaided, the better her chances."

"Right now, we have her classified as stable but critical condition. She is still on a heart monitor, as I said, and a ventilator."

"Why?" Sarah interjected. "Why is she still on a ventilator?"

Dr. Carter reached out to touch the other woman's knee. "Until Willow regains consciousness, I'm not comfortable taking her off the ventilator. The trauma done to her body, and the cascade of her system crashes does not inspire me with comfort that she will continue to breath unaided."

Sarah winced, her grip tightening on Ira's hand. "Meaning, you don't expect her to regain consciousness. You're anticipating a coma."

It was Dr. Carter's turn to wince. "I'd hate to say that." She replied. "Your daughter was very lucky. She has good friends who acted immediately. I credit that with saving her life to this point. I can't see her luck running out so soon." She held Sarah's gaze for a long moment, before turning it onto the husband beside her. "We will be moving Willow into ICU shortly. As soon as she can have visitors, I'll let you know."

Giles rubbed his eyes. The burn of a long restless night was the only part of him that actually felt alive. "So, we wait," he murmured softly, behind the retreating doctor's back.

Buffy reached up to touch her Watcher's hand. He easily held it, like a paternal parent to a timid child. "We wait," she agreed, using the voice of a war veteran who had already witnessed too much loss, and knew more would come sooner or later.

Angel scratched his shoulder, wincing at the pain of scorched flesh. The library during day was a tricky place to reach, even with all the underground tunnels. It took concentration to get through without a mark. Unfortunately for him, his concentration was terrifically off.

Inching around the radiance the skylight allowed into the classic room, Angel eyed the librarian's office door cautiously. Since his regression to Angelus, some months ago, he could no longer be guaranteed that Giles kept blinds down over the large windows facing the west wall.

And given that the sun was now on the decline, it was potentially a bad situation for Angel to accidentally find himself in. "Oh, well," he mumbled. "It could be worse."

Willow was a good friend, and her faith in him, as well as her gift to him of his soul was not something he could ignore. It had taken him the better part of the morning, sitting protected in his little hole with no way to find out what was happening in the hospital, to devise this plan. He knew what he had felt in her blood, and even though that contact was gone, dissolved away by the elapsed time, he knew the situation wasn't going to change on its own. A little help was definitely needed.

And if it worked, it would be his first major step towards making things right again in his world.

Carefully, he placed his hand on the large brass doorknob, and turned it gingerly. Wincing at the squeal of mechanisms in desperate need of oiling, he gave the door a good shove, but fell back against the wall outside of the room. Lifting his right hand, he examined it carefully for signs of smoking or burning.

"Angel? What ARE you doing?"

"AARGH!" He jumped a good two feet up, landing back on his feet much like a cat. "Buffy! Don't do that!"

The Slayer smirked, albeit, her little expression of pleasure lacked depth. "Nice to have the tables finally turned. You do that to me all the time."

Angel shook his head. "That's different. I'm a vampire. It's habit to sneak."

Buffy scooted her little rump up on the nearest study table, her backpack resting lightly across her lap. "I'm a Slayer, it's my job to sneak up on sneaky vampires," she replied. "What are you doing, trying to get into Giles' office?"

Angel rolled his eyes, wishing for patience. There was another two hours until sunset, and he had a lot of work to do first. "I'm getting tea," he informed her quickly. "Giles has been calling regularly to keep me updated on Willow's condition. Since I know I'm probably the last person he wants to talk to�I thought I'd do something to demonstrate my appreciation."

Buffy smiled, a sincere expression. "Oh, that's nice," she murmured, jumping down from her seat. "And since by now he's reduced himself to eating cafeteria food, you can only go up in his good-books by doing this." Boldly, she walked into her Watcher's office, and was immediately followed by the sound of blinds closing. "It's safe now."

Cautiously, he poked his head around the doorway, quickly glancing around at the light level in the room. One arm slipped around the doorframe, pulling his torso around cautiously. "Still not burning..." he noticed absently, resisting the urge to stick a hand out and wiggle his fingers. "Safe enough."

Buffy watched all of this with much bemusement. "Still alive?" she asked dryly.

"No," Angel replied candidly. "But, I'm used to being dead." Before the 'incident', he'd spent many hours in this room with Giles, beating out theories and going over prophecies with care, resolve and much speculation. Angel had watched Giles make his ritual pot of tea with each night he'd spent in this room. Without hesitation, he approached the tea-box sitting on a bookcase and removed three bags of the Watcher's favorite brand of Earl Grey. "Got it."

Buffy nodded. "So, can we go now? I'd like to get back to the hospital."

Angel bent his head, shooting her a glance from under long lashes. "Ah, if it's not a problem, I'd rather wait here until the sun sets." He jerked his head towards the window. "I've already singed myself once. It's not a habit I want to get into."

Buffy shrugged, slipping her backpack over her shoulders. "Ouch. I forgot." She grimaced. "I'll let Giles know you're coming, then." She quickly ran a hand through her hair. "I just want to get some time in sitting with Willow before visiting hours are up."

Angel nodded his understanding. This was hitting Buffy hard. Willow was her only true girlfriend in Sunnydale, and on a lot of levels, Buffy needed her. The Slayer was the loneliest person alive, according to tradition. The need for secrecy in her identity did not leave much space for friendship, love or family. Buffy's extraordinary success was credited as much to her prowess, or Giles' research, as it was to her friendship with Xander and Willow. It gave her grounding in the day-world, and a reason to keep fighting that Angel believed previous Slayers lacked.

"Go," he encouraged her softly, letting her know he understood that her brave front and her ready smiles were all for show. "I'll be there as soon as the sun sets for my spell."

Buffy smiled, tossing a small wave as she left. Leaning back against Giles' scarred wooden desk, Angel waiting until he heard the main doors of the library shut. Straightening, he turned towards the walnut cabinet Giles kept tightly locked. "Right after I find all the ingredients needed."

Sarah Rosenberg must have been prescient, Giles thought, setting his the horrid tea he'd found in the hospital cafeteria where it belonged�in the garbage. Nearly eighteen hours after she'd been admitted into the hospital Willow had settled into a coma. And, after over forty-eight hours since her spellcasting, she was still in the same condition.

"Awful stuff," he muttered aloud, still tasting the foul tea in the back of his mouth. Gingerly, he picked up Willow's laptop, balancing it precariously on his lap. "Why is it hospitals must ruin everything in a cafeteria?" he asked, staring down at the white screen in front of him.

"It keeps the doctors in business."

Giles hands slammed down on the edges of the laptop, barely preventing it from flying out of his lap when he jumped. "Buffy!"

The Slayer tossed a little wave, dropping herself down into the chair beside her bag. "You'll survive. Angel is bringing you the real stuff after sunset," Buffy murmured, carefully untying the buckles of her schoolbag.

"Real stuff?" Giles leaned back into his chair, once again staring at the electronic contraption that Willow so adored.

"Tea, Giles. Real tea." Buffy smirked. "I saw him at the school, before leaving. He's bringing you the nourishment you need."

The Watcher glanced at her. "Oh?" Bemusedly, he watched as Buffy extracted two textbooks and a notebook. Schoolwork and Buffy rarely mixed, but homework and Buffy? That was as improbable as the Hellmouth drying up on its own.

Logically he knew her apparent dedication to schoolwork was another way to avoid the situation at hand. Achieving success in academics seemed to take all of Buffy's concentration. If her mind was focused on concepts like Archimedes principle, she wasn't thinking about Willow.

Leaving for school the past two days had been difficult for the Slayer. She hadn't wanted to leave Willow's side, and while her mother had said she could stay if she wanted, Buffy knew it was asking for trouble. Snyder was just waiting for the opportunity to expel her, and since that would upset Willow, Buffy wasn't about to give him the chance.

"Yeah." Meticulously, Buffy opened her physics textbook to the page last worked on, folding back a rabbit-eared corner before looking up. "He was in the library grabbing some out of your stash. He said you were keeping watch for us all and the least he could do was thank you with some real tea."

Giles smiled softly, appreciating the implied gesture. "I'll have to thank him." It was still hard. Each time he saw Angel, he only saw Jenny's murderer. Still, the other man was trying to be courteous, staying away whenever possible, and being discreet when he couldn't stay away.

Lowering down the lid of the laptop, he watched Buffy with interest. This was perhaps the first time he'd been allowed the opportunity to study how she dealt with this type of stress. He only wished it was an opportunity that had never existed. "There's been no improvement," he informed his Slayer apologetically. "Willow is still breathing on her own, but there has been no return to consciousness."

"I know." Buffy sighed, her thumb flicking the tip of her pencil, pushing the nub of the eraser with the absent-minded goal of creating a projectile. "I called earlier."

Giles raised his eyebrow. "I see."

"Not that I didn't appreciate your regular every-six-hour report," Buffy continued nonchalantly. "But I felt I needed to hear the depressing 'no change' news with a bit more often. That way, when they say there's a change, it'll be a pleasant surprise."

Giles nodded. "Ah�I see."

"No you don't." Buffy shrugged, returning her attention to her textbook.

The Watcher shook his head, shifting the computer in his lap. The damnable thing was so warm, even when in this 'suspended' mode, or whatever it was that Willow called it. "You're right," he murmured, his mind still shuddering with the difficulty of comprehending this teenager. "I don't." Despite the distinct memories of his own adolescence, he doubted he had ever been as confusing as the children of today.

"Have you been in to see Willow, yet?" Buffy didn't look up from her schoolwork, she just asked the question blindly. At Giles prolonged silence, she began to toy with the corner page of her text, bending the edge back and forth.

Giles sighed, setting the computer down on the magazine covered table for the lounge area. "Yes, Buffy, I did." He had spent the better part of two hours in with the Slayerette; two hours reading to her from that horrid Anne Rice book he'd often seen the girl reading. The theory being that being spoken to, or read to, would encourage the subconscious mind to awaken the conscious. Giles wasn't sure if it would work in this case, given that the cause of Willow's condition was magical in nature, but he wasn't willing to discount it either.

Buffy dropped all pretence of interest in physics. "Do you think she'll wake up? Or�"

"I don't know, Buffy. I really don't. What Willow did had a terrible impact on her own body and mind." Giles sighed. He could only provide Buffy with conjecture, not fact. As expert as he was in the occult, the human mind continued to escape his understanding.

Quite calmly, Buffy shut her textbook, this time forgetting to mark her page. It really didn't matter. As long as Willow woke up, Buffy would learn what she needed in order to pass physics. "Meaning?"

"Meaning, it is possible her soul has fled her body." Giles picked at a loose thread on his trousers with his thumb. "I believe Willow was aware that the spell would kill her, and was willing to die. So she didn't resist."

Buffy rubbed her eyes. "You can't prove it though." She sighed, wishing Willow was with them, awake and alert. Giles' beliefs or theories were more up Willow's alley than Buffy's. Willow had always explained it in ways Buffy could understand.

"No." Giles dropped the thread into the nearby ashtray, noting the incongruity of a "No smoking" sign right above an ashtray. "I can't. And I hope I'm wrong."

"Wrong about what?" Oz's voice startled them both.

"DON'T DO THAT!" Buffy snapped. "I have this bad nervous condition, it's called urgent stakosa. Don't sneak up on me or I might stake you."

Oz blinked, taken aback by Buffy's vehemence. "I'm not a vampire."

"You're a werewolf. It's close enough," Buffy griped. "Just don't do it. I've had a bad couple of shocks in the last few days, and one more is likely to kill someone."

"Yeah," Oz muttered sadly, looking over to the door that barred his way to Willow's side. "I know." Sitting down, he ran hands through his messy red-gold hair. "So, you were saying something about Willow?"

Giles winced. "Ah, yes. The doctor's believe she won't regain consciousness until her mind believes the body and spirit are no longer in pain."

"It's my fault," the boy mumbled morosely, interrupting Giles. "She gave up because she didn't think she had a chance with me. I pushed her away, and now she won't come back."

"You can't blame yourself, Oz. The spell..." Buffy patted the seat beside her, dumping her schoolbag to the floor.

"Maybe. I don't know. I just feel like she's like this because of me." Oz rubbed his face. "I didn't even talk to her in the cave, you know. I knew that thing was going to kill us, and I didn't say a word. I just stayed quiet while Cordy said all the things I was thinking, only she said them worse. Willow didn't need that�and then she goes off and kills herself so that we can live. It sucks, you know."

"Oh, totally," Buffy said airily, shooting Giles a 'help me!' glance.

"Willow did what she felt was right," Giles interceded soothingly. "She wanted you and Cordelia to live, so she made it possible. Accept that gift, and move forward. Don't think about what she did, or what the price was. It won't help Willow, and it won't help you."

Oz was silent, first staring at Giles, and then his own blue fingernails. "Yeah. I guess." His clothing was mismatched, from his shirt to his shoes, a clear sign that the strain and his own emotions were getting to him. "I just wish I could make things right, you know. I miss her. I was missing her before this." He punctuated the 'this' with a nod towards Willow's hospital room. "And now I feel like I'm too late, and I'll always miss her. Like I've lost the only thing that really matters, for good."

Buffy's eyes softened, her own face reflected her emotions paralleled Oz's closely. "I know," she murmured, staring down at the pencil still in her fingers, noting that she was moving it between fingers with the same mannerisms in which she toyed with stakes.

"Me too." Cordelia surprised them all, her voice soft as she pushed away from Willow's hospital room. Behind her, the door closed gently. "I mean, I was so nasty to her. And I just wish I could say 'I'm sorry', and know that she heard me." Standing, and looking awkward, Cordelia rubbed at her arms. "I used to do horrible things to Willow. I was the worst for picking on her. And she never did anything bad back. Well, other than the deliver thing." Cordy chewed on her lower lip for a moment, before admitting the one thing that bothered her most. "Even with the Xander thing, she was a better friend to me than I've ever had before. She saved my life."

Buffy's lip twitched ominously, the effort needed to withhold her urge to grieve was increasing with each moment. "Did you tell her that?" she asked softly. "Maybe if she hears you..."

Cordy shook her head. "I couldn't," she whispered. "I just couldn't say a word. She looks so awful. There are all those wires, and tubes, and it's just�I couldn't say anything. It felt like if I did, I was saying goodbye."

Buffy rubbed her eyes with fisted hands, forcing back an urge to cry. "I don't know. Maybe it's what Willow needs to know before she can come back. Y'know, that we do want her back. Maybe if she hears that, she'll come back." Buffy looked at Giles beseechingly.

"It's possible," Giles conceded. "The doctors said it has helped comatose patients before." It felt uncomfortable, seeing the desperate hope rising in their eyes, but his own adult instincts, the ones that understood magic's price, did not willingly fall under that same hopefulness. Still, hope was a powerful magic in its own right. "And perhaps, that is what gives youth and innocence such power."

Oz straightened, setting his eyes on Willow's door with resolve. "I'll go first."

Angel stood back and looked at the arrangements of candles one more time. It looked right; at least, it matched Giles' diagram of the layout. Gently, he set the orb on a piece of velvet in front of him, and took a deep, if unneeded breath. "I hope this works, Willow."

Lifting his hands in a gesture of benediction, he tossed a silent prayer to the Christian God, asking him for leniency. It wasn't often a demon tried to cast a spell for the purposes of good, after all. Especially since the spell was meant for another purpose altogether. If God was forgiving, though, perhaps He'd bend the rules, just this one time.

Closing his eyes, he centered himself, and then focused on the candle. "Not dead...nor not of the living. Spirits of the interregnum, I call..."

The Orb of Thessulah began a soft glow. Although the words had been used against the demon in him twice, they were also burned into his memory for all eternity. With great solemnity, and love for a friend lying in need of her spirit, Angel opened himself up to his past.

"Te implor, Doamne, nu ignora aceasta rugaminte. Nici mort, nici al fiintei... Lasa orbita sa fie vasul care-i va transporta, sufletul la el. Asa sa fie! Asa sa fie! Acum!"

And, as it had twice before to Angel's knowledge and salvation, the Orb flared to existence, and then disappeared.

They had all taken their turn. First Oz, then Cordelia. Both had asked for permission to go first so that they could make their apologies and ask for Willow's forgiveness. Giles was used to waiting, so it had been no hardship for him. Buffy and Xander, however, had both found the waiting difficult.

It wasn't like this was guaranteed to work, Giles mused, and carefully opening up the dratted book to the page he'd last read. The best he hoped could come out of the teenagers' heartfelt confessions was that their own grief would be resolved. It was time for them to start healing, to look past what they hadn't done and remember what they had.

"Well, Willow?" He eased back into the chair beside her bed, glancing quickly at the pale still body that bore such a faint resemblance to the girl he knew. "Shall we continue?"

Of course, Willow didn't answer. "I know you can hear me, Willow." Giles paused, before reading, deciding that even as the children had offloaded their feelings, he needed much the same release. "I am terribly proud of you. I have never met a young woman with your selflessness, or courage. Please try to come back to us, Willow. I don't want to spend the rest of my life wondering what kind of woman you were going to be."

There wasn't even a flicker of motion in her face or body. Sighing, he turned back to the book. "Alright, where were we?"

"Huuuuuuuuuuu."

The book fell from nerveless fingers, as Giles jumped to Willow's side, the gasp of air spooking him. "Willow?"

Pale lips moved, and a raspy whisper followed, barely audible.

"Wait," Giles told her. "Don't say anything. Let me get a nurse!" He pressed the call button, knowing it would bring staff running.

"Uhh-Zzz," she rasped out. "Wha..."

Leaning close, he heard the door crack open, but didn't stray from his attentive position by Willow. She spoke again. "Ozz, Corrr-dy." It was clearly hard for her to speak. "O-kay?"

Oz pushed close to Willow's side, taking the position on the other side of the bed opposite Giles. "We're fine, Willow. We're okay. You saved us." Picking up one nearly translucent hand, he held it to his cheek, letting her feel the tears streaming down his face. "Don't leave me. Please, don't leave me."

Dark eyes cracked open, wincing at the bright light overhead. A soft whimper escaped.

Turning, Giles looked at the doorway, smiling to see all of Willow's friends clustered inside the room, despite the hospital's strict rules. With brightly relieved smiles amongst their tears, it was the sweetest homecoming he could have wished for the tiny Slayerette.