That day haunted all of them. For weeks, whenever Anya closed her eyes and did not think of Xander, she thought of that day. She could smell Spike’s burning flesh, Dawn’s floral perfume, and Giles’ perspiration. If she focused her mind, she could hear Willow’s voice chanting the ancient incantations. The rest of that day, the rest of the experience, eluded her until nightfall. In her dreams Anya relived the ground-wrenching tremors and the superheated air blistering her face. She saw the Hellmouth beast writhe and strike like a cobra. She tasted Buffy’s blood and tears on her lips. The dreams ended the way that day had ended -- a single horrific scream that froze all activity. Anya would awaken in a sweat-drenched bed, her body begging for breath and respite. Some nights, Willow would sit with her until she fell asleep again. Most nights she hid beneath the sheets and watched the stars fade into the sky.

*****

Spike, Giles, and Willow sat around the table and surveyed their meager supplies. The food stocks needed to be replenished. They would run out of water in six days. By Spike’s estimate, they had enough gas for three, maybe four days. Giles unfolded a map and quickly calculated how far they could travel. They had wasted precious time waiting for Xander to die in the desert. With luck, they would reach the foothills and find a gas station there. If not, they would have to hike into the mountains.

The ex-Watcher and the vampire did a perimeter sweep. Spike stood watch through the night and slept during the day while Willow and Giles drove. Anya could no longer drive because the steering wheel pressed on her swelling belly.

*****

Willow reapplied Giles’ poultice. His shoulder wound still oozed pus, but it no longer smelled foul. She was more concerned about Anya. The ex-vengence demon still spoke as if Xander was going to rejoin them. Neither Giles nor Spike had been able to dissuade her. Willow’s best friend since kindergarten had been dead for four weeks.

Her memories of that day were tinged with magic and pain. Willow remembered the earthquake that had split the Hellmouth open and freed the demons. She remembered Giles’ agitated appearance at the Summers’ house. After that, the images blurred. Did Angel call? Had Dawn’s bleeding body hung above the Hellmouth for hours while Buffy watched in horror? Did Spike really drink from her? Willow felt the scar tissue on her neck. That memory was real.

She only knew about the rest of that day from the scraps that the others had dropped. Willow had been caught in the searing grip of a blinding migraine. Fire. Fear. Flight. These were the words that were whispered in conversations about the rest of that day. What haunted Willow was the blankness in her mind. There had been a cataclysmic life-changing experience, and she had a big black hole in her memory.

Outside she heard the sounds of wild animals calling to each other in the darkness. She rose from her bed and slipped her shoes on. Quietly, she crept past Giles and stole into the night to find Spike. The vampire sat on a rock, smoking a cigarette. Willow folded her body onto the ground and laid her head on his thigh.

*****

Spike remembered everything about that day. Abject terror as Dawn was snatched from his arms and he was thrown into the sunlight. Overwhelming helplessness as he realized that he would never reach Buffy in time. Utter despair when Willow’s magic failed and the Hellmouth literally crashed down on them. He would have died in that pit if Xander had not come back for him. And the ironic twist of fate? Xander would have lived if he’d left Spike there.

The vampire closed his eyes and focused on the unsteady rocking motion of the bus. Willow was driving. Giles only swore when he hit the big holes. Willow, on the other hand, muttered “sorry” after every hole, rock, or rut she hit. One day he counted over two hundred “sorrys” before he fell asleep. He preferred it when Anya drove. She would sing while she maneuvered the unwieldy vehicle down the road. Her repertoire was vast, and her voice was a beautifully pitched mezzo soprano.

No one had told Anya how Xander died. No one dared. The bus had crawled through the desert to minimize abrupt movement to his shattered body. When gangrene set in, Willow tried to remove it with magic. That was the first clue that her power had been sucked into the Hellmouth. Giles had suggested amputation, but neither he nor Willow (nor Spike) could stomach that job. There were no antibiotics. The only pain medication they had was aspirin. For two days, they listened to Xander’s screams. On the third day, Spike went to the back of the bus. He watched the young man tremble with pain.

“Just do it, Spike. Do it and never tell Anya.” Xander Harris had kept his eyes fixed on the vampire until the bitter end. In Spike’s nightmares, Xander laughs as his airway is blocked.

*****

Faith found out that Buffy was dead when Willow gathered her into a crushing bear hug. The two women clung to each other in silence until Giles cleared his throat.

The cabin was large enough for all of them. It had ample fresh water reserves and was well-stocked. Anya had immediately dropped onto a bed and fallen asleep. The terrain, the higher elevation, and her pregnancy had taken their toll. Her labour pains started later that night. Willow and Fred served as midwives. Spike let Anya break every bone in his hands as she screamed through the transition portion of her labour.

The baby was born just after midnight. It was six weeks early, but it looked well. Anya named the baby Alexandra. Faith sneaked into the room to take a peek at the newborn. She was shocked to feel tears on her cheeks as she held the baby. She quickly thrust Alexandra back to Fred and retreated.

Faith bummed a cigarette from Spike and went outside to smoke. He joined her after Giles splinted his hands. Faith took one look at his wrapped fingers and shared her cigarette.

“This ain’t what I expected,” said Faith as she lit a second cigarette. “I thought for sure Buffy would be here.” She flicked some ash and placed the cigarette between Spike’s lips. He took several puffs.

“How come you’re here?” he asked.

“Big black guy showed up with the twig and Boy Wonder and told me ‘Angel said to get your ass outta here.’” Spike lifted an eyebrow in surprise. “Yeah, that was my reaction too cuz that ain’t the way Angel talks. But I knew what he meant. Wasn’t like I was gonna argue with him.” Faith put out her cigarette. “I gotta quit smoking now, don’t I?”

Spike didn’t answer her. He continued to smoke. After a while he asked, “So how come there’s just you, Fred, and Connor? Where’s everybody else?”

“Dunno. Never talked to Angel. Never saw the black guy again.”

There was another stretch of silence as Spike considered her words.

*****

Giles sat in a chair by the fireplace and lost himself in the flames. They were smaller and less fearsome than the ones that had consumed Buffy that day. She had died twice before. This time there was no body to resurrect. Her dying scream reverberated against the walls of his mind. On that day, it was overtaken by the roar of the Hellmouth as it swallowed the Slayer. He had known then that they were doomed. Mere seconds separated the survivors from the victims of the Hellmouth’s triumph. At the end, only Willow, Xander, Spike, Anya, and Giles emerged from the ground. Among the hundreds who died were Dawn, Buffy, Wesley, and probably Angel. (Giles assumed it was Angel who dove into the Hellmouth after Buffy.) Giles could still hear the sickening sound of Wesley’s body as it was crushed.

He chose not to dwell on the other events of that day. Giles, a man who valued knowledge, did not know why Spike had tasted Willow’s blood. He did not know how Anya procured the ghastly and rare ingredients for the final spell that went awry. He would never know why Dawn tried to close the Hellmouth herself. Giles only knew that his life ended that day.

*****

Anya nursed Alexandra while Willow straightened the room. On the road trip from Hell, Anya and Willow had had some terrific screaming matches. Now they giggled as they told Fred how Giles and Spike would exchange a look and simultaneously disappear when “the women” began to argue.

Willow bent over her unofficial niece. “She’s got Xander’s hair,” she whispered as her fingers brushed the baby’s head.

“Also his appetite,” added Anya. She regarded the redheaded woman for several minutes. “Willow, why won’t you bring back that day?” This had been the cause of several heated discussions while they were traveling.

“I can’t, Anya. I wish I could, but I can’t. Not anymore. Besides, that kind of spell is dangerous.” Willow lay a finger on Alexandra’s soft cheek. “I wish he was here too. He would be so thrilled to see his baby girl.”

“I wish they were all here,” said Anya. She kissed her daughter. “I wish that day had never happened.” She held her breath and waited, but no one said, “Done.”