"There's no way we can get in there without Olivia," Andrew protested from where he slouched in the chair. "She's got like superpowers of invisibility and not getting caught and stuff. It's like Catwoman, with - "

"Thank you, Andrew," Wesley cut him off. "It is essential we continue to work on reconnaissance. Until we can find a way to get more direct information about Wilkins we'll stick to our usual methods of research. I received a new shipment of books today." The watcher nodded toward the stack of books on the table. Seven pairs of eyes fell obediently on the stack, and Wesley surveyed six expressions identical in their lack of hope. The seventh belonged to the slayer, whose face had betrayed nothing to him in the past three weeks, not since the night -

"I need to patrol," the slayer said shortly, pushing roughly against the wall she'd been leaning against.

"Buffy," he began gently, "we must continue to gather information about the ascension. The Box of Gavroc is a particular concern, but there could be other..." He trailed off, sighing as the door swung shut behind her.

Veruca closed her eyes a moment, then shifted wearily to her feet, collecting the top pair of books (the thickest, and she suspected it was a ploy on the watcher's part so they'd be chosen). The other White Hats, following her lead, each moved reluctantly to grab a volume of their own and scatter themselves through the apartment, finding their favorite private corners.

When the rest had gone, Veruca stood next to Wesley's chair, offering him one of the heavy books she'd selected. "At least with the thick ones you aren't surprised when it takes forever," she said with a little smile.

"How are you feeling?" he asked as he accepted the book. The eyes that lifted to her were shadowed, dark with weariness and sorrow.

"I'm fine, thanks," she said, glancing toward the curtained window. "The change isn't bad any more. It's very...freeing." Then her attention returned to him, her fingers resting lightly on his arm to emphasize her concern. "How are you holding up?"

He opened his mouth but shut it again, standing quickly and turning away from her, his head tipped down. He swallowed, searching for his voice again, for the glib, easy lies he had been speaking for weeks.

"Hey, shh," Veruca soothed, dropping her book on his vacated seat, her hand certain on his shoulder as she turned him, bringing him to face her again. She looked hard into his eyes, her own narrowing with her intensity. "I miss him," she said bluntly, touching his face. "I miss him, but you're doing a good job. A really good job." And then, before he could protest or close himself off again, she pulled him into a tight hug.

* * * * *

Jonathon surveyed his room with a grimace. Unfolded laundry tumbled out of a basket near the closet, books were spilling from the shelves and scattered over the floor, a baseball glove was half hidden by a stack of dirty plates, an axe handle peeked out from beneath his bed, and magical artifacts cluttered every available surface. It was in need of a serious cleaning, before Hana took it into her head to help him out again. She was efficient, but her idea of organization was vastly different from his.

He had other things to worry about first, though. He shifted a handful of stones from the center of his bed to his nightstand, dropping them near an amulet and some half-burned incense. Then he sat on the edge of the bed, opening the little shopping bag. First he pulled out a small plastic figure - Mickey and Minnie Mouse, dressed in wedding clothes. He wound it up and nudged the stones back to make a clear area. When he set the figure down it began to twirl slowly, so the cartoon mice waltzed around the nightstand. Then he produced a small velvet box and cleared his throat, fixing his eyes on an imaginary point above him and holding the box out.

"Hana," he said aloud. "Do you remember when we went to Disneyland and ran into that duck, uhm, one of Scrooge's nephews, the one with - oh god." He scrubbed a hand back through his black hair, shaking his head and loosening his shoulders. "I am going to screw this up. Hana, I love you. Will you be my Minnie Mouse? Will you be my wife? Will you please shut me up?" He sighed, reaching over and winding the figure again, watching it spin for a moment.

"Hana," he began again, pulling the box slowly open and presenting it to the empty air. "For a long time - " He jumped at the sound of the doorbell, glancing guiltily at the closed door. He snapped the ring box shut and dropped it in the open nightstand drawer, cursing under his breath as he wrestled the sticky thing shut.

"I'm coming!" he called, dashing out of the room.

Mickey and Minnie, having shifted wildly during his brief tussle with the drawer, hit the chain of the amulet and tipped over into its closed circle. One of Mickey's ears touched the dull stone and a dark red glow began from deep inside the gem.

* * * * *

Jesse stared out the window at the vibrant blue sky and the inviting blur of cars beyond the high school grounds. He found himself mildly surprised that today history was even more boring than math had been. The teacher was droning on and on about the Trojan War and Homer's Iliad, which Jesse hadn't read, a habit which in no small part contributed to him having to repeat his senior year now.

"There has always, of course, been a great deal of discussion about the nature of the relationship between Achilles and his companion Patroclus," the teacher said. "Because of the nature of Greek society and how common homosexual relationships were between men, it is more than likely the two were lovers." He paused; Jesse blinked and straightened up as the wind sighing through the half-open windows brought a soft hum of music.

"There you see him," the teacher sang, his voice soft, a gentle whisper. "Sitting on the battlement. He don't got a lot to say, but you want that boy in your tent." He was pointing off to some distant place, crooning to an unseen Achilles. "And you don't know why, but you're dying to try - you want to kiss the guy." Jesse found himself humming, along with the rest of the class.

"There you see him," the teacher continued, "lying on the battlefield. He got his blood on your shield. Now Hector's got to pay. And you're going mad, 'cause you're oh so sad. You want to kill that lad! Fight with me now," he implored. A group of girls in the front row leapt up, singing in chorus.

"Sha la la la la la!" they crooned. "Crazy man! You've got to make a plan! You've got to kill the man!"

"Woah-oh!" Jesse joined in soulfully, springing from his seat. The football players in the back joined him a moment later as desks were shuffled aside and everyone began swirling around the room, their feet and arms moving in perfect harmony.

"Sha la la la la la, my oh my!" the boys sang. "Patroclus did die! You've got to kill the guy." As the chorus echoed softer and softer around the room, the teacher sprang up on the desk, crouching and gesturing through the empty air, his eyes bright with intensity.

"Now's your moment," he whispered, "running 'round the Trojan Walls. Achilles better do it soon. Hector's got to take a fall." The entire class drew in a collective breath, but their sudden musical outburst was shattered by the shrill of the bell in the corridor. They all blinked, straightening suddenly and staring around. The teacher climbed off the table, his face pinking with embarrassment as the students hastily replaced the desks and chairs and fled the room.

* * * * *

"Well I was on e-bay, you know, and this guy was selling a limited edition mint in box Han Solo action figure signed by George Lucas," Andrew explained, his eyes bright with enthusiasm, his hands gesturing wildly. "There are only forty-seven in known existence. But it was so expensive, and then all of a sudden Luke Skywalker jumps off his pedestal and we're singing this duet about dreams and wishes, you know? 'A dream is a wish your heart makes,'" he began to croon.

"Ah, yes, quite right," Wesley said loudly. "Cinderella. Even I've seen it. There seems to be a musical cartoon theme to the recent events."

"I need to get going," Dawn said suddenly, glancing out the window at the failing light. As she stood so did her watcher, frowning intently. The rest of the White Hats remained glued to their seats, looking anywhere but the pair.

"Buffy," he said sharply, wishing for Daniel's calming influence. "We're in the middle of a meeting. I think this is of more pressing concern than - "

"I need to patrol now," she said shortly, gathering her stakes and sword and pushing past him. He caught her arm and she pulled roughly away. "I'll be back in the morning," she said, letting the door slam behind her.

The air carried a cooling breeze and as she stepped out of the apartment complex she closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath and letting the wind lift all stray thoughts from her mind. Now was the time to hunt and slay, and she would think of nothing else until morning broke over the town. Then she would crawl into her bed and pray for dreamlessness.

Though she had sat quietly in Wesley's apartment for twenty minutes as the White Hats recounted their day's experiences, she could not have said what the new problem was. She had registered not a word spoken, intent as she was on replaying the last night's slaying in her mind. Here if she had ducked she would have saved half a second; there a shift left and her sword would have found purchase on the demon's spine. She was, she realized, sorely lacking. She had to be better, faster, deadlier.

As she stepped into the graveyard she gave her sword an experimental swing, loosening her shoulder. By the end of the night, if she did her job correctly, she would ache everywhere. The wind gusted suddenly from the archway into the cemetery, sighing among the clipped grass and the maze of headstones, bringing with it an odd crescendo of music. Dawn found herself suddenly atop a large stone marker as the night creatures began to swarm toward her.

"Gotta keep one jump ahead of the demons," she sang out clearly as she leapt over a grey, spiny-faced creature, and ducked beneath the weapon it swung. "One swing ahead of the sword. I kill only 'cause we can't afford," she punctuated the line with a quick stab into the demon's stomach, "to let them live." The creature fell and she next dodged a trio of vampires.

"One jump ahead of the vampires. That's all, 'cause they're quick blokes," she sang. "These guys don't appreciate my jokes." They scowled, chasing her as she sprinted to a clearer portion of the graveyard, where one of their brethren was struggling with a human victim.

"Riff raff!"

"White Hat!"

"Slayer!"

"Take that!" Dawn countered, an expert swing of her sword taking off two heads at once, sending them screaming into dust. She whirled and advanced on the fourth vampire, who had the man's neck bared.

"Just a little snack hun," she crooned.

"Rip him open, it will be fun!" the third vampire enticed.

"Can't you take a hint?" Dawn demanded, a well-aimed kick separating the vampire and the man. "Gotta face the facts. I'm afraid you're out of luck!" She plunged a stake into the vampire's heart, and her eyes widened as she looked down at it.

"Fuck!" she shouted, exploding into ashes.

"Oh, it's sad, the slayer's hit the bottom," the remaining vampire and a pair of demons intoned as she advanced on them. "She's become a one-girl rise in death."

"I'd blame a watcher except she hasn't got one," a spiral-horned demon taunted from across the clearing.

"Gotta slay to kill," Dawn sang, jamming a stake into the vampire. "Gotta kill this hurt." Her sword sliced through the pair of demons and she whirled to face her horned foe. "I'd tell you all about it but you're out of time." As that demon too fell, Dawn sprinted through the graveyard again, leaping headstones and countering the undead and demonkind who crossed her path.

"One jump ahead of the slow pokes," she continued to sing as she slew. "One skip ahead of my doom. God I'm sick of my nom de plume. One jump ahead of the monsters. One stake and I can't fail. I think I'll take a stroll around the 'Dale." She ran along the edge of a large stone monument, a particularly large hellbeast on her tail.

"Stop bitch!" it shouted, and from elsewhere in the graveyard its brethren joined in.

"Killer!"

"Outrage!"

"Slaughter!"

She lopped the beast's head neatly from its shoulders and found herself faced with the handsome young man she'd rescued earlier, again about to become a vampire's midnight snack.

"Let's not be too hasty," the vampire pleaded. "'Cause I think he's rather tasty. Gotta eat to live, gotta kill to eat. Otherwise we'd get along."

"Wrong!" Dawn shouted, shoving the man roughly away and falling on the vampire, the pressure she put on her stake sinking it into the ground after the creature was dust. She panted heavily, her eyes stinging, and when she could not push the thoughts from her mind she stumbled to her feet, sprinting again through the cemetery.

"One jump ahead of the hoof beats," she sang, evading an incubus.

"Killer!" he snarled.

"One hop ahead of the horns," the slayer grasped the uplifted arms of an angel statue and swung herself forward.

"White Hat!" the incubus accused.

"One trick ahead of disaster." She lunged suddenly toward him, tucking at the last moment and rolling beneath his legs. She sprang up and turned, her hands both set on the hilt of her sword as she swung it around.

"Slayer!" the incubus howled a moment before he was sliced in two.

"They're quick, but I'm much faster!" she sang.

"Take that!" the vampire behind her shouted, his foot connecting solidly with her back, sending her sprawling forward. She clambered high up on another monument and stared down at a clutch of five undead.

"Here goes," she sang as the music continued its frenzy around them. "Better throw my stake in. These vamps won't be waking. All I gotta do is jump!"

* * * * *

Tara sighed, strolling through her new dungeon. It was smaller than the last, but the few vampires who had managed to escape the crazed sorceress' fire had brought her many fine new torture devices in abject apology for their failure. Still, none of them could begin to assuage the loss of Acathla, and the blonde vampire began to find herself dreadfully bored. The task of creating a new cadre to take down the slayer had been more difficult than she'd anticipated, as the slayer kept taking them out instead.

Tara stared at a row of fine leather whips, sighing again and running her hands over their tails as she walked past. She tipped her face up, drawing in a deep breath, and she found herself suddenly compelled to sing out into the empty air.

"Look at this stuff," she crooned. "Isn't it neat? Wouldn't you think my collection's complete? Wouldn't you think I'm the girl, the girl who has everything?" She shook her head, her hands opening to gesture broadly to the room. "Look at this trove! Treasures untold. How many wonders can one dungeon hold? Looking around here you'd think 'Sure, she's got everything.'" The vampire lifted an interestingly-curved blade, turning it so it caught the light.

"I've got gadgets and gizmos a-plenty. I've got humans and demons galore," she glanced toward her guests chained on the far wall. "You want iron maidens? I got twenty. But who cares? No big deal. I want more..." She tossed the knife aside, running majestically up the short flight of stairs and leaning against the railing.

"I want to be where the brimstone is. I want to see, want to see souls burning! Impaled through their - what do you call them?" She paused, considering. "Spleens. Flashing your fangs you don't get too far. Hell is required for unending torment. Flaying them slowly with - what's that way again? Oh yeah, bare hands." Her face brightened as she thought of it, her eyes glowing.

"Down where they scream,
 Down where they die,
 Down where they wish they'd gone
 Somewhere high!
 Torturing free,
 Wish I could be
 Part of that world."

Tara sighed, leaning back from the railing and shaking her head. Her eyes fell on the discarded knife, then flicked toward the nearest man dangling against the wall. Well, at least it was something to do.

* * * * *

"Do you really think this will work?" Wesley asked in an undertone, glancing nervously down at the training floor below them. Veruca, who stood next to him on the small balcony, smiled and gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"She seems into the physical stuff, slaying and training," she reasoned through it again. "So we do it with her. It's not the greatest connection, but it's some normalcy at least. Just try to act like you always have. Try to be her watcher."

Wesley watched as the werewolf moved off down the stairs, a curious ache in his chest. He wasn't altogether certain he'd ever once been Buffy's watcher, but he could make up for that. It wasn't too late. He squared his shoulders and followed Veruca down to the main floor, where the White Hats had gathered and selected staffs.

"We'll start with some warm-up exercises," Wesley said, lifting a staff from the rack and balancing it expertly in his hands. Suddenly everyone snapped to attention, echoing his moves clumsily, and he frowned. The light streamed brighter through the windows and with it came music.

"Let's get down to business to defeat demons," Wesley sang the command, a sharp tap of his staff correcting the slayer's posture. "Did they send me a human, not the chosen one? You're the saddest one I ever met, but you can bet before we're through - Buffy I'll make a slayer out of you." He turned away and the White Hats fell in behind him, mimicking his graceful movements as they moved all through the large, sun-lit room, though it spun curiously around them, reforming to the creek across town.

"Tranquil as a forest, but on fire within. Once you find your center you are sure to win," the watcher instructed, his melodic voice stern. The trainees walked across thin beams above the water, their arms wheeling madly to help them balance. Olivia stood on the opposite bank, watching the proceedings with a disdainful frown.

"You're a spineless, pale, pathetic lot!" Wesley admonished the White Hats. "And you haven't got a clue. Somehow I'll make fighters out of you."

"I'm never gonna catch my breath," Jesse panted.

"Say goodbye to those who knew me," Hana sang.

"Boy was I a fool in school for cutting gym," Larry lamented.

"This guy's got them scared to death," Olivia joined with a soft snort, rolling her eyes and walking away.

"Hope he doesn't see right through me," Dawn intoned.

"Now I really wish that I knew how to swim," Andrew squeaked, tipping suddenly off the beam.

They marched through Sunnydale and through a blur of seasons, their movements under Wesley's tutelage becoming more certain, snapping in harmony with the beat.

"Kill the vamps!
 You must be swift as the coursing river
 Kill the vamps!
 With all the force of a great typhoon
 Kill the vamps!
 With all the strength of the raging fire
 Mysterious as the dark side of the moon."

"Time is racing toward us," Wesley sang. "Till our doom arrives. Heed my every order, and we might survive." As the room re-solidified around them, he found himself face-to-face with Dawn, who was swinging her staff out of beat, following her own silent tempo. "You're unsuited for the rage of war, so pack up, go home, you're through!" He frowned at the slayer and pointed toward the door; as her watcher he had to be tough, as demanding as this world, cruel enough to prepare her for its cruelties.

"How could I make a slayer out of you?" he sang. Dawn's jaw tightened as she stood before him, though after a moment she tossed her staff aside, heading toward the door. The rest of the White Hats danced and sang on, seemingly oblivious.

"Kill the vamps!
 You must be swift as the coursing river
 Kill the vamps!
 With all the force of a great typhoon
 Kill the vamps!
 With all the strength of the raging fire
 Mysterious as the dark side of the moon."

* * * * *

Olivia had seen a lot of strange things since she'd arrived in Sunnydale, but the dancing and singing, she decided, was too much. All over town people were turning toward one another and bursting into twittering love songs, or entire crowds were suddenly following perfectly-choreographed steps, their voices hitting all the right notes in perfect rhyme. Everything was so disgustingly cheerful.

As she walked away from the White Hats' training montage at the creek, she formulated her plan. It was certainly a spell, and so there had to be a counterspell. It would not be difficult to find, once she could pin-point the source of the energy. These sorts of things were almost always summonings, which were linked to talismans. She found a nice clear patch in the shade of some tall oak trees and settled herself down. It would be more difficult without her supplies, but the afternoon sun was so pleasant it penetrated even her dark mood.

She crossed her legs and rested her open hands on her knees, her palms upward. Her eyes drifted shut and she wove her power carefully, calling slowly on the elements of fire and earth, then nearby water, and finally the air. She felt the last of the four whirl around her, and the distant strain of music and her straying thoughts broke her concentration. His face loomed in her vision and the spell popped in a little shower of green sparks. Her eyes flew open and she scowled, pushing angrily to her feet.

"If there's a prize for rotten judgment," she sang, her hand trailing along the tree's trunk. "I guess I've already won that. No man is worth the aggravation. That's ancient history - been there, done that." Behind her the elementals she'd called up but not banished stirred, taking form and whirling around her in a flurry of color and song.

"Who d'you think you're kidding?
 He was the earth and heaven to you
 Try to keep it hidden,
 Honey we can see right through you
 Try but can't conceal it
 We know how you feel and who you're thinking of."

"Oh, no chance!" Olivia countered. "No way! I won't say - No, no!"

"You swoon, you cry," the forms countered. "Why deny it? Uh-uh."

"It's too cliché," she sang, her nose scrunched. "I won't say I'm in love." She turned away from them, strolling out from beneath the shade of the trees, the sun breaking on her upturned face as she sang on.

"I thought my heart had learned its lesson
 It feels so good when you start out
 My head is screaming
 Get a grip girl
 Unless you're dying to
 Cry your heart out."

The elementals shimmered, their forms becoming more solidly those of three women in shades of brown, red, blue, and white. They shook their heads and wagged their fingers, their hands propped on their hips.

"You keep on denying
 Who you are and how you're feeling
 Baby we aren't buying
 Hun we saw you hit the ceiling
 Face it like a grown up
 When you gonna own up
 That you've got, got, got it bad?"

"Woah, no chance, no way," Olivia sang, holding up a hand to stop them. "I won't say it, no, no."

"Give up your fears," they implored, drawing closer. "Check the tears, you're in love."

"This scene won't play!" the sorceress insisted. "I won't say I'm in love."

"Quit doing this, read our lips, you're in love!"

"You're way off base, I won't say it!" Olivia sang, shaking her head as the blurring scenery cleared again and she wandered among the newly-appeared headstones. "Get off my case, I won't say it!" Though she gestured them angrily away, as she fell to her knees beside the gravestone the elementals gathered around, their hands touching her shoulders gently, their voices softening as the music wound down.

"Now don't be proud. It's okay, you're in love," they soothed.

"At least out loud," Olivia sang, her voice quieter, her fingers brushing over the stone, "I won't say I'm in love." The music and the magic faded with the breeze, and the sorceress bent forward until her cheek rested against the warm ground, her tears slipping down into the soil.

* * * * *

Dawn had sprinted through town, past countless warbled tunes and heart-felt ballads. She hadn't seen much of Sunnydale in the daytime for quite a while, and she was surprised to note the color creeping back into people's wardrobes, the lack of guardedness to their postures. Even when they weren't singing some stood on streetcorners talking and laughing; one little café had set up chairs and tables outside in the pleasant shade of an awning; a woman wiped a smear of pale pink ice cream from a laughing, blue-eyed boy's chin.

It was the world the White Hats had created. But it was a world without her sister, her dearest friends, her parents, her watcher. Buffy's watcher, she mentally corrected herself; he had always been Buffy's. Yet he had given himself for this fight, and it had been so important to him that she be the slayer.

Dawn stared at the scorched remains of the mansion. The trees and shrubbery around it were reduced to black, ashing stumps, but the stone skeleton remained, the architecture cracked but holding. For three weeks she had watched it crumble, had noted the greenery trying to press through the ruins shrivel and brown mysteriously. She would stand in the spot where they had last let her see him and watch.

She felt him behind her a moment before his hand touched her shoulder. When she did not start or turn he stepped up beside her, his eyes fixed (as hers) on the house.

"Wesley called," Daniel said quietly. "I thought you might be here." Her silence stretched on and at last he faced her, his fingers brushing her dark hair back, his eyes trying to catch hers. She stepped forward, her head bending to rest on his shoulder and her arms winding slowly around him.

"I've got to find her," she whispered, her eyes shut tightly. "I need..."

"I know," he soothed, keeping his breath deep and even, his hands rubbing slow circles over her back. In truth the place made all his skin prickle; something dread and heavy now hung over it so nothing could grow, and he could not shake the vivid memory of that night from his mind.

The White Hats had not known for hours. The mansion was remote, just outside of town. Little traffic passed through, and it was hidden from the road. The people at the fire department found themselves wholly uninterested in the dark bloom of smoke rising from the edge of the wood. It had taken Wesley quite some time to carry the half-dead red-haired girl to the hospital, where he had not been allowed to contact anyone until his examination was complete.

Daniel had arrived at the mansion just before the police. Though the fire raged on until daybreak, by then the worst of it was over; there was nothing left to burn but stone. He found Dawn crouched on the lawn, rocking the stiffening body. There were two dark smudges of blood over his eyelids where she had closed them, and more streaked in her hair from where she had pushed it back. Daniel had nearly been sick from the carnage, the stark brutality of the slayer soaked in blood, the pallor of the corpse.

Dawn's arms loosened their grip around him and she shifted back. Her eyes lifted at last to him, as smoke blue and remote as they'd been for weeks. The tension showed around them, pulled tight in the eyebrows, in the vulnerable curve of her mouth. He cupped her face gently in his hands and pressed a kiss to her smooth forehead.

"Let's get back," he suggested quietly, glancing to the light fading quickly from the clouded sky. She nodded, her hand slipping into his.

"I'm ready," the slayer said.

A few minutes later, Dawn stiffened suddenly in the passenger's seat of the van, her eyes locking on the cemetery at the end of the block. "Quick detour," she promised quietly, pushing the door open as he slowed the van. He frowned, watching her jump from the vehicle and sprint into the graveyard.

She could sense only one, which meant it was probably newly-risen. Still they sometimes surprised her, the ones who had been athletic or particularly clever in life. It was unusual for the older ones to travel alone, especially in the early evenings; they learned quickly to hunt in packs during hours when the White Hats typically patrolled.

Dawn caught him by surprise, a sharp kick sending him sprawling across freshly-turned earth. She bore down on him, her stake raised; he tried to scramble back, one hand lifted in a warding gesture.

"Don't, please!" he shouted. "You don't want to kill me!"

"I don't?" she asked, one of her eyebrows lifting. "Funny, I could swear that was my job. Kind of a mystical calling sort of thing."

"I can help you!" he said desperately, falling back again and cringing. "I know where Tara is!"

Dawn stopped her stake in mid-stab, though she kept it poised a few inches from his heart. She searched his face carefully, her other hand slamming into his throat to keep him pinned down.

"You're going to really regret it if you mess with me," she said quietly.

"I know!" he squeaked, nodding vigorously. "You know the big crypt on Faintree? With the pair of angels outside?" At her nod he relaxed a measure, his face brightening. "She's there. There's an entrance through the back to this whole underground place. It's really cool, she's got all sorts of whips and chains and hey!"

His eyes widened in surprise as the stake slammed down into his heart. Dawn was on her feet before his dust had settled, and moments later she was climbing back into the van, her eyes gleaming but the rest of her face expressionless. Fate worked in funny ways.

* * * * *

The front door to Wesley's apartment swung open and everyone turned to face it. The watcher himself stood, his eyebrows lifting, his eyes hopeful and cautious at once.

"Buffy," he began, stepping toward her. She stopped him with a little gesture and a slightly stiff smile.

"I'm fine, guys," she said, her only concession to the earlier incident and her behavior over the past weeks. Then she pushed her hair back and moved toward the weapons rack. "Ran into a little snitch on the way back. Tara's supposedly holed up in one of the big crypts in Faintree. We go after her tonight. If she's not there, we find her elsewhere."

The White Hats shared a mixture of surprised and delighted faces as they all stood in turn, offering a general chorus of approval and congratulations. They had been itching to kill the vampire for weeks, but though they'd looked for her on all of their patrols they hadn't heard a whisper about her, and the slayer's heart had not truly been in seeking her out. Now, though, they sensed the change, and a general air of jubilation overtook the room. Even Olivia, hidden by shadow as she was in her corner seat, smiled.

Much to Wesley's initial consternation, Andrew leapt without warning atop the coffee table, the motion accentuated by a sudden shower of piano notes sliding up the scale. "Bless my soul!" he sang, his voice vibrating in exaggerated gospel style. "Buff was on a roll! Slayer of the year, not just a mere human soul!" Olivia stared at him for a moment, then heaved a great sigh and let her head drop with exaggerated frustration into her hands.

"How adored!" Jonathon joined, hopping onto the table next to his friend. "She could kill a horde. Point her at a monster, she'll break up its smorgasbord."

"She was a no one," Hana sang.

"A zero, zero," came Jesse's reply.

"Now she's a hot shot."

"She's a hero!"

"She was a kid with her act down pat," Hana said, grinning broadly at the slayer, around whom the remainder of the White Hats were dancing.

"Zero to hero in no time flat," they sang. "Zero to hero, just like that!"

"When she smiled, the boys went wild," Larry continued.

"Oh what a shocker!" Veruca laughed.

"And they slapped her face on every place, in every locker," Andrew sang as the rest turned toward Daniel to take up the next verse.

"From a teenage girl
 Through portal hurled
 Our Dawn got strength to kill
 Now newly strong and chosen
 She could tell you of a slayer's will!"

For a moment the White Hats stared, shocked, at Daniel, but the music continued on, and so did their song, Veruca and Hana's voices lifting together.

"Say amen!
 There she goes again
 Almost undefeated
 In an awesome nine for ten."

Jonathon shuffled in close to Dawn, throwing a few fake punches toward her, which she dodged with a winning grin. "Folks line up to watch her dodge those hits," he sang. "And her perfect package packed a pair of pretty - hey!" He squeaked and rubbed his arm where Hana had smacked him.

"Dawn if she comes she sees she conquers," Veruca continued. "Honey the vamps were going bonkers! She showed the moxie, brains, and spunk!"

"From zero to hero!" they sang.

"She dates a hunk," Larry said, his eyebrows wiggling.

"Zero to hero!"

"And who'da thunk?" Andrew asked.

"Who put the glad in gladiator?" Wesley sang.

"Buff, uh, Dawn," the White Hats responded, confusion evident in their faces as they continued to dance.

"Whose daring deeds are great theater?"

"Buff, um, Dawn!"

"Is she the bomb?"

"No one braver."

"Is she sweet?"

"Our favorite flavor!
 Oh my god!
 The slayer's Dawn!
 Oh my god..."

As realization sank in, along with knowledge of how she had come to be the slayer, unmitigated jubilation returned to the room and the White Hats spun enthusiastically around Dawn in a shower of confetti and streamers.

"Bless my soul!
 Dawn was on a roll
 Once defeated
 Fighting quick
 And the nicest chick!
 Not conceited
 She was a nothing
 Zero, zero
 Now she's a hot shot
 Hero, hero
 She hit the heights at break-neck speed - literally!
 From zero to hero
 Dawn she is a hero
 Now she is a hero!"

As the music spiraled to an end, Andrew was left standing on the coffee table. He threw his head back, one fist lifting in the air. "Yes indeed!"

Eight pairs of eyes stared at him, and when the last echo of his soulful singing faded he opened his own eyes. Then he coughed, climbing awkwardly off the table. "We really need to start researching this singing thing," he said meekly.

Wesley caught Dawn's shoulder, his grip gentle but firm as he turned her to face him fully, staring hard into her eyes, searching. "Who are you?" he asked quietly, the entire mood of the room changing, the hush almost deafening. "Did Rupert know about this?"

"Don't," Daniel broke in quietly, interposing himself between the hurt watcher and the wide-eyed slayer. "She's been the slayer since she got here. She's done the training, she patrols, she does everything the Council expects. She's the same person she's always been, you've just been saying the wrong name."

"You're really Dawn, then?" Larry whispered.

Dawn backed away from the loose cluster of her comrades, her eyes a confusion of sorrow and anger, and from around them the music slid up again, darker this time, nearly sinister.

"Yes it's me," she sang, her voice low. "I'm not Buffy. Not as you know her. Read my lips, and come to grips with reality." Her hands worked into fists and she faced them, her mouth quivering with tears she would not shed. "We must fight a blast from my past. My lies were too good to last. Yes I saw Tara and let her go free!" Her face dipped down and she turned half away from them, her eyes hidden again.

"So Buffy turns out to be merely her sister. I'm just a con. Need I go on? Take it from me," she sang quietly, the tempo and intensity of the music then increasing. "My personality flaws let her out of my claws. My Tara's sweet, so I let her go. I hoped she'd not be a terrible foe. My heart's not frozen, I can't be chosen, and I know that I'm not Buffy. You'll be fine without me!"

Daniel reached for her as she pushed through the knot of people. "Dawn!" he called, pressing after her as she threw open the door and ran into the growing night. The guitarist stopped suddenly as Olivia stepped in front of him, her hand falling on his shoulder. He blinked in surprise; he had never seen her willingly touch anyone else, and by the time he recovered the door had closed after his fleeing girlfriend.

"Let her go," Olivia said quietly. "We know where the vampire is now. It's not as though we don't know how to kill one."

"But she's the slayer," Andrew protested, glancing uncertainly to Wesley, who was frowning at the sorceress. "She makes the plans."

One of Olivia's eyebrows lifted and she fixed a withering look on the blonde. As she stepped slowly toward him the light in the room dimmed and the music swelled.

"I know that your powers of retention are as wet as a warthog's backside," the Englishwoman sang. "But thick as you are, pay attention! My words are a matter of pride." She moved the intensity of her regard from Andrew to the rest of the White Hats, who stood all in a line, staring at her.

"It's clear from your vacant expressions the lights are not all on upstairs," she continued. "But we're talking watchers, successions. Even you can't be caught unawares!" She wound slowly around the group, who turned to watch where she moved.

"So prepare for the chance of a lifetime!" she enticed, her face tipping up to catch what little light was left, her hand reaching to fall on the railing of the stairs. "Be prepared for sensational news. A shining new era is top-toeing nearer."

"And where do I feature?" Wesley asked as the sorceress moved slowly up the steps toward the balcony.

"Just listen to teacher," she soothed. "I know it sounds sordid, but you'll be rewarded when at last she is given her due. And in justice deliciously squared, be prepared!" As she neared the top of the stairs, the White Hats fell into step and began marching in the main room. Wesley frowned, stepping back.

"It's great that we'll soon be connected to a new watcher, all-time adored!" they sang in chorus.

"Of course, quid pro quo, you're expected," Olivia reminded them, leaning over the balcony, "to take certain duties on board. The future is littered with prizes, and though I'm the main addressee, the point that I must emphasize is - you won't get a kill without me!" The sorceress stepped onto thin air, her hands lifting and power falling in shades of green and black from her fingers. The White Hats each stood upon a piece of furniture, and as her energy touched each piece in turn they began to lift into the air.

"So prepare for the coup of the century!" she sang, the White Hats humming a descant as they spun about her in kaleidoscopic patterns.

"Be prepared for the murkiest scam!
 Meticulous planning
 Tenacity spanning
 Decades of denial
 Is simply why I'll
 Be queen undisputed
 Respected, saluted
 And seen for the wonder I am!"

Olivia rotated slowly in the center of the whirling pattern, descending with it as color and smoke spun out around them.

"Yes my powers, ambitions are bared!" she sang, touching at last to the ground again. "Be prepared!"

* * * * *

"I've got a lovely bunch of coconuts, didilee-dee! Here they are a-standing in a row." The young man fell forward against the front of his cage, his beakish nose poking out from between the bars as his fingers ran over them. "Big ones, small ones, some as big as your - ow," he whispered meekly as a hand shot through the bars and caught his throat. Tara pushed him gently back from the front of the cage and he offered her a placating smile. She smirked, jerking his head forward to slam into the iron bars. Then she released him and he slumped to the ground, unconscious.

She turned away from the cage and prowled restlessly around the small underground room. The rest of the vampires gathered there scrambled repeatedly out of her way as she changed directions, cutting swathes through them.

"I'm t-tired of this waiting game," she growled, her eyes flashing. "I'm sick of sitting by while the slayer picks us off one by one. This used to be a vampire town, until she came along. We live on the Hellmouth and we're mewed up underground at night."

"But she's so strong," the blonde scuttling out of her way protested. "They say the sorceress who burned your mansion bespelled her. She never sleeps and she has a magical stake that never misses a heart once it's been thrown."

"Nonsense!" Tara snarled.

"I don't think she's a problem at all," a newly-risen girl scoffed, tossing her hair. "I got away from her. Ignore her, she's falling apart. Just some little girl on a power trip."

Tara frowned, shaking her head and whirling to face her followers. "The slayer will make off with your childer," she insisted. "She'll come after them in the night. We're not safe until her head is mounted on my wall. I say we kill the slayer!"

A chorus of "Yeah!" greeted her suggestion, and she smirked in pleasure as they took up the tune.

"We're not safe until she's dead."

"She'll come stalking us at night."

"Set to sacrifice our childer
 To her monstrous appetite!"

"She'll wreak havoc on our cadre
 If we let her wander free."

"So it's time to take some action, boys," Tara caught up the strain of the song again. "It's time to follow me!" As their leader sung on, they began pulling those torture implements that could be used as hand-to-hand weapons from the walls: swords, knives, maces, clubs, chains.

"Through the mist
 Through the graves
 Through the darkness and the shadows
 It's a nightmare but it's one exciting ride."

They burst forth from the crypt, spilling into the graveyard. Fog hung low around the stone tombs and high above them the clouds at last tore apart and moonlight fell on the procession. Their combined voices and the orchestral flurry of music lifted skyward.

"Raise the cry!
 They'll soon die
 In the center of the city
 Where the slayer and the White Hats all reside."

Tara strode to the front of the pack, hefting an axe in her small hands. "She's a bitch!" she sang loudly. "She has stakes, razor sharp ones! Massive swords for her hordes and her witch."

"Hear us roar!" the cadre continued.

"See us foam!
 Cause we're not coming home
 Till they're dead,
 Good and dead!
 Kill the bitch!"

On the other side of town, Wesley's apartment was a flurry of music and activity. The White Hats grabbed their weapons of choice and fell in confidently behind Olivia. Wesley himself was determined not to let them go alone, and armed himself to the teeth. They each had their own score to settle, and they each sang at the tops of their lungs as they pushed out his front door into the night.

"Grab your stake!
 Buffy's fake!
 Screw your courage to the sticking place
 We're counting on Olivia to lead the way
 Through the mist
 Through the wood
 Where within a haunted graveyard
 Something's lurking that we all see everyday."

"It's a vamp," Wesley sang, "one as cruel as a devil. We won't rest 'till she's good and deceased."

"Sally forth!" they called.

"Tally ho!
 Grab your sword,
 Grab your bow!
 Praise the lord and here we go!"

"We'll lay siege to her crypt and cut off her head!" Olivia cried. They were fanned out behind her as they marched through the empty streets, heading toward the cemetery, which was through the center of town. When they reached the center, however, they could see movement beyond the statue of Mayor Wilkins I. A dark river of vampires flowed toward the square, their weapons flashing silver in the moonlight, and at their head marched Tara.

"Hearts ablaze!" the White Hats sang, their voices lifting higher.

"Banners high
 We go marching into battle
 Unafraid although the danger's just increased."

"Raise the flag!" the vampires returned, hoisting their weapons in the air.

"Sing the song!
 Here we come
 We're fifty strong
 And fifty vampires can't be wrong!
 Let's kill the beasts!"

* * * * *

Dawn stumbled at the edge of the creek, falling to her knees beside it. She had already done so much running away that day, so much trying and failing. Mist skated over the cool surface of the water, but as she knelt on the black bank the wind picked up and it cleared away. Slowly her reflection emerged, and she stared into a familiar face. Though the halo of hair was brown now, kept scrupulously dyed, it was a superficial change. No one would ever see Dawn there. Tears gathered in her eyes but did not fall, and again the music rose around her.

"Look at me,
 I will never pass for a perfect Buff
 Or a perfect slayer
 Can it be
 I'm not meant to play this part?
 Now I see
 That if I were truly to be
 Myself
 I would break my watcher's heart."

Her voice rose, clear and sure, and as she leaned closer to the water her breath confused the image looking back at her.

"Who is that girl I see
 Staring straight back at me?
 Why is my reflection someone I don't know?"

Dawn pushed back, standing slowly. Her face tipped up and she stared at the sky, at the clouds obscuring the moon.

"Somehow I cannot hide
 Who I am,
 Though I've tried
 When will my reflection show
 Who I am inside?"

The girl wiped her eyes, her head bowing. Though her song had ended the wind continued to swirl gently around her, carrying on it wisps of music, snatches of melodies she could not quite place.

"What is going on tonight?" she asked suddenly, of no one in particular. She turned in place, her arms stretched wide. "Why are you doing this to us?!"

High above, the clouds at last separated, and the moonlight glancing through the trees on the creek bank strengthened and began to sparkle. A ghostly form of a man appeared, slowly drawing the light in and solidifying. He had a pleasant smile and kind, twinkling eyes, and when he stepped up to Dawn and set a gentle hand on her shoulder she was wholly unafraid.

"Someone's made a wish," the man said. "A wish for a happy ending. A Disney ending. It happens more often than you'd think."

"This isn't happy, though," Dawn said, her eyes searching his, pleading. "They all know now, that I'm not - "

"Give it time, Dawn," he assured her, reaching to tuck her hair behind her ear. "And remember life goes on after the movie's over. There is no real Disney ending." Then he drew in a breath and began to sing, his voice rich and melodic.

"When you wish upon a star,
 Makes no difference who you are,
 Anything your heart desires
 Will come to you.

 When your heart is in your dreams
 No request is too extreme
 When you wish upon a star,
 As dreamers do.

 Fate is kind,
 She brings to those who love
 The sweet fulfillment of
 Their secret longing.

 Like a bolt out of the blue
 Fate steps in and sees you through.
 When you wish upon a star
 Your dreams come true."

"But I didn't..." Dawn trailed off as the old man smiled again, shaking his head. And he was right; in her heart she had wished it, had wanted for so long to be out from beneath the burden of her secret. At least now, no matter what happened, she could be honest with them. "Thank you," she said quietly.

"I do what I can," he said, his eyes twinkling. "But right now you'd better get going." He glanced up at the moon and listened for a moment to the breeze around them, the hint of song it carried. "Your friends are in trouble, in the town square."

"They are?" Dawn asked. "How do you know?"

"I know," he said with a little shrug, stepping backwards, his form beginning to fade.

"Wait! I don't even know your name!" she protested. His only reply was that kind, quiet laugh.

"Walt?" she whispered. And then there was no more time to consider it, because on the wind the music was stronger, and she could hear the distant strains of their war song.

* * * * *

Tara's eyes narrowed as she led her cadre into the center of the town. "This will be the night. Let's go vamps!" she called.

Across the square Olivia lifted the ornate-handled sword she'd wrested from Acathla, the blade crackling with energy. "This will be the evening," she sang.

"We will see them flying into dust!" the White Hats pledged, spreading out as the vampires rushed at them, breaking against them like a wave.

Across town, Dawn took off from the bank of the creek, her voice a high descant magnified by the wind, threading over the battle.

"I don't know what I can do, still I know I've got to try."

"Now we make them pay," the vampires snarled.

"Eagle help my feet to fly," Dawn sang.

"Now without a warning," the White Hats called back to their foes.

"Mountain help my heart be great," the slayer cried.

"Now we leave them blood and bone and rust!" the vampire horde chanted.

"Spirits of the earth and sky! Please don't let it be too late!" the slayer prayed.

The vampires and humans clashed together, weapons ringing as they swirled like black water around the statue, their voices joining as the battle raged.

"They're just a bunch of filthy stinking
 Savages!
 Savages!
 Demons!
 Devils!
 Kill them!
 Savages!
 Savages!
 What are we waiting for?
 Destroy their evil race until there's not a trace left!"

"How loud are the drums of war?" Dawn's voice lifted over the others as she broke onto the street and plunged into the fray, dispatching vampires as she fought toward the center of the storm.

"Now we sound the drums of war," the White Hats chanted. In the middle of the fighting, just behind the statue of Sunnydale's first mayor, Tara squared off against Olivia, whose sword was flashing green in the silver moonlight. They traded blows, but for each cut Olivia landed she took one in turn. Dawn leapt onto the statue's pedestal, sprinting along the edge and leaping straight into the middle of the sorceress' duel, her stake upraised.

"They're savages, savages! They won't see the morning!" declared the undead.

"Was the death of all I love carried in the drumming of..." Dawn stared into beloved blue eyes.

"Now we sound the drums of..." the fighters' song lifted around them, the voices and music a whirlwind, a palpable pressure.

"War!" they cried together, the word torn from Dawn's throat as her stake sank into the vampire's chest.

The last of the cadre filtered to the ground, joining the thin layer of ash their brethren had created. Dawn stumbled back a step, her hand beginning to tremble. Her stake slipped from her grasp, clattering against the cobblestone of the square, and a moment later her knees hit the stone as well. She sagged, her shoulders shaking with hoarse, gasping sobs.

Wesley tossed his katana aside, kneeling in front of her and drawing her into his arms. He held her small body as she shook, his eyes squeezed shut and his own tears marking trails through the fine coating of dust on his face. She returned his embrace so tightly it was nearly painful, and it eased some of the worry seated deep in his heart.

"Shh, Dawn," he whispered. "I've got you."

All around the square, the White Hats helped one another up and checked over each other's injuries. Andrew grasped Larry's hand, smiling as the older boy pulled him to his feet. Hana fussed over a cut that had marked Jonathon's shoulder. Daniel grimaced and pulled a small knife from Jesse's thigh. Veruca's stern look kept Olivia still as the werewolf inspected a broad slice across the small of the sorceress' back.

They had none of them sustained serious injuries, and not one vampire had escaped. As Wesley helped his slayer to her feet, the horizon lightened and the sun broke over it. For the first time in three weeks, Dawn turned toward the light, letting the sight of it warm her. A breeze stirred through the square, lifting the ashes away, and as it cleared there came again a filter of music, one last gift. Wesley pushed Dawn's hair back, brushing dust and the remains of her tears gently away from her cheeks as he drew in breath to sing.

"From the day we arrive on the planet," he began, his voice soft and rich, his eyes fixed on hers, "and blinking step into the sun, there's more to see than can ever be seen, more to do than can ever be done." He stepped back from her, and finding herself at his side Veruca smiled, her fingers threading boldly with his.

"There's far too much to take in here," Olivia's voice took up the quiet thread of the song. She did not move toward the slayer, but her eyes shifted from the sunrise, the directness of her gaze turning on Dawn. "More to find than can ever be found. But the sun rolling high through the sapphire sky keeps great and small on the endless round."

The other White Hats moved closer together, each turning to face the growing light, their voices mingling in perfect harmony.

"It's the circle of life
 And it moves us all
 Through despair and hope
 Through faith and love
 Till we find our place
 On the path unwinding
 In the circle
 The circle of life."

As she looked up, Dawn found her eyes stung again with tears, and again she let them come. "Some of us fall by the wayside," she began gently, in her heart sending the song to him. "And some of us soar to the stars. And some of us sail through our troubles, and some have to live with the scars."

"Some say eat or be eaten," Hana sang, turning to the slayer. "Some say live and let live. But all are agreed as they join the stampede." Her eyes locked with Dawn's, and the moment burned indelibly into each of their minds. "You should never take more than you give."

"It's the circle of life," their collected voices rose again, breaking the intensity between the pair.

"And it moves us all
 Through despair and hope
 Through faith and love
 Till we find our place
 On the path unwinding
 In the circle
 The circle of life."

"Let's get home," Daniel said quietly when the music had faded, taking Dawn's hand and leading her through the square. Behind them, the rest of the White Hats fell in, following the pair westward.

"You're kind of a terrible singer," Larry said, reaching over to ruffle Andrew's hair. The blonde regarded him sideways for a moment before a knowing, confident little grin stole over his mouth, and he gave Larry a gentle push.

"I know."