Chapter One
      
      Harry lay awake in his bed at Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. He had barely slept, had tossed and turned fitfully all night. He knew he should be thinking about Voldemort. About why his scar had seared with pain for the first time in more than a year three nights ago. What was frightening about that was not the pain or the uncomfortable awareness of Voldemort’s emotions. It was not that Voldemort might see into his mind too, or even that he might find him and come for him. What frightened Harry most about the pain and the vision that had accompanied it was that something had made Voldemort happy. So happy that Voldemort, an accomplished Occlumens and Legilimens, had slipped and allowed Harry to feel his glee and hear his laughter. What could it be? That was a question he had asked himself many times over the past three days, but it was not what was on his mind now.
      He was thinking about Ginny. About the night before when he, Ron, and Hermione had left the Burrow. He had left Privet Drive on his seventeenth birthday, much to the Dursley’s delight, and had gone to the Burrow for Bill and Fleur’s wedding, but had only stayed a week. After much discussion about Harry’s scar, it had been reluctantly concluded that going into hiding was the best course of action. Ron and Hermione came with him, for which he was infinitely grateful, but he felt ripped in two without Ginny. He knew it was the right thing to do and he should not even think about it anymore, but he could not manage to make himself feel good about it.
      As he got out of bed, he saw that the sun was just above the horizon. He got dressed and headed down to the kitchen. He was surprised to find Ron and Hermione already dressed and sitting at the table.
      “Couldn’t sleep either?” Harry asked, standing in the doorway.
      “No,” Hermione replied, “So we’ve been talking, trying to figure out what Voldemort’s up to.”
      “Any luck?” Harry asked wearily. Ron and Hermione just shook their heads gloomily.
      “I’m hungry,” said Ron after a moment, “Do you have anything to-“ he cut off and spun around as green flames suddenly shot up in the empty fireplace and Ginny stepped out, wiping some ash from her skirt.
      Harry thought he must be hallucinating until Ron said sharply, “What are you doing here? Mum’ll kill you!”
      Ginny looked at Ron and replied calmly, “I ran away, Ron.”
      Ron gaped at her openmouthed as she walked up to Harry and said, “I’ve decided.”
      Harry, astonished, looked around. Ron was still gaping like a fish and Hermione was wearing a small, knowing smile. He focused on Ginny again, who was looking at him expectantly.
      “Er…decided what?” Harry asked slowly.
      “Decided you’re a prat if you think you’re leaving me behind, and I’m coming with you whether you like it or not, and if you don’t let me, I’ll follow you anyway even if I die trying, so there’s no use arguing,” she finished, as Harry was opening his mouth to do just that.
      Harry paused. He knew he should refuse to let her come, try to reason with her, or even leave her petrified in her house if he needed to. But, looking into her eyes, he decided that probably wouldn’t stop her. And, he admitted to himself, he didn’t want to stop her. He didn’t want to say goodbye to her again. He looked at her for a moment, and then smiled. She smiled in return, stood on tip-toe to give him a kiss on the cheek, then sat down at the table.
      “So,” she said, looking around at Harry, Ron, and Hermione, “what’s the plan?”
      
     ~~~
      
      Lyra yawned as she walked absentmindedly down the sidewalk under the morning sun. She had not gotten much sleep. She never could on the nights before her annual visit to the place where she and Will had said goodbye four years previously. She looked down at Pantalaimon, trotting beside her, remembering the glorious moment when he had chosen his form and she and Will had touched each other’s daemons. She smiled reminiscently and wondered if Will still thought of her as much as she thought of him, and whether he had found another girl. She wondered if she would ever want someone else. Lyra knew she had grown in many ways since they parted, and many boys in her school were interested in her, but she had not been able to bring herself to date any of them. She quickened her pace, eager to sit on the bench where, one hour a year, Lyra and Will were as close as they could be.
      
      Will walked quickly down the street, not seeing any of the people he passed. He had barely slept the night before, and had walked out of the house without noticing his untidy hair and undone shoelaces. He had been thinking about Lyra. Even more than usual, that is. Will had always been quiet, but had become even more withdrawn since parting with Lyra. Girls talked to him sometimes, but none of them compared to her in his mind. This annual visit to the place where he and Lyra had gone their separate ways was what he lived for. He saw the bench ahead of him and walked faster. When he arrived at the bench he sat down, closed his eyes, and imagined Lyra sitting next to him, hoping that in her world she really was.
      
      Lyra sat on the bench, looking down at the grass but not seeing it, reliving their parting embrace in her mind. She closed her eyes, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. She wiped it away and when she opened her eyes, her forehead wrinkled in puzzlement. There, on the grass, was part of a shoelace, where there had not been one before. She bent to pick it up, and dropped it immediately when it seemed to grow longer as she pulled it. Her eyes widened as, right in front of her eyes, the shoelace moved as if jerked to the side and disappeared. Hardly daring to breathe, Lyra slowly got up off the bench and crouched down where she had seen the shoelace vanish. She froze as she was suddenly face-to-face with an astonished boy who was unmistakably Will.
      
      Will was stunned. He had crouched down to see what had pulled his shoelace and found Lyra, older and more beautiful, but definitely Lyra. They were both frozen, eyes locked. Lyra recovered first. She sprung forward, almost knocking the breath out of Will with a fierce embrace. He wrapped his arms around her and felt something melt inside him, and was happier than he could remember being in four years. After much kissing and hugging and declarations of love, reality returned to them at last. They got up and sat on the bench together, each not daring to let go of the other’s hand for fear they would disappear.
      “How could this have happened?” asked Lyra, staring at the opening.
      Will looked at the opening as well. He had no idea how this could have happened. What he did know was that it might be a serious problem and that he wanted to solve it with Lyra, like in their other adventures.
      “I don’t know,” replied Will, “We should search for another opening and see if the answer is on the other side.”
      Lyra smiled and gripped his hand tighter.
      
     ~~~
      
      Moiraine woke up to sunlight slanting through the window and into her eyes. She groaned softly and stretched. She was grateful for the extra sleep, but it was late to be abed. She stood and sighed wearily. This would be a long, worrisome day. The Ogier elder’s news of the world tearing and creating openings to other worlds was grave indeed. Worst of all, Moiraine had no idea how to go about solving the problem. She feared she was going to have to just wait until something more happened. She dressed herself, getting increasingly irate as she failed to think of any course of action to take. Just as she finished donning her slippers, there was a knock on the door. She stood up and entered her sitting room.
      “Come,” she said, loudly enough to be heard through the door. The door opened and a Maiden stuck her head in.
      “The car’a’carn is here. He wishes to speak with you, if you will see him.”
      “Let him in,” Moiraine replied and sat down, channeling briefly to warm up some tea. Rand entered, looking troubled. Moiraine gestured for him to sit, and he did. She waited for him to speak.
      “Do you know what’s happening?” he asked, “Is there anything we can do?”
Moiraine sighed again. “No, I don’t know what’s happening. And therefore I believe we will have to wait and see what happens before we decide what to do.” To her surprise, he seemed to accept this and just nodded. She handed him a cup of tea, which he accepted but did not drink right away. Instead, he stared down into it.
“About that man you brought back with you…”
“Yes? Has he spoken yet?”
“No, but for some reason he and Perrin get along very well,” he said, sounding thoughtful, “Perrin said he can’t talk with him like he does with the wolves, but he feels some sort of connection or familiarity.” He shook his head. “But that’s not what I wanted to tell you. I…decided to test him. I don’t know why, but I did.” He looked up at Moiraine. “He can channel,” he said simply.
Moiraine nodded slowly. “I suspected he might be able to,” she said, “He…killed Lanfear. In that other world.” She looked at Rand, who was watching her impassively. He had heard the tale already, after all, but it was still strange for her to talk about.  “But he may have created a block for himself,” she continued. She stood up, and walked over to her desk. “I saw him using this,” she said, pulling a smooth, slender piece of wood from the desk drawer. She walked back over and handed it to Rand. “I believe he can only channel when he has that," she said, nodding toward the stick, “and I think he has to say or think a phrase also. It’s very odd.” She stared at the wand, her brow furrowed. “Another theory I have, which is less believable, but makes more sense, in a way, is that what he does is completely different from channeling. His tool does not appear to be any kind of ter’angreal, but I’m positive it has some sort of power. But in any case, you may return it to him or not, as you wish. He dropped it before we returned, and did not see me pick it up.”
Rand handled the strange stick thoughtfully. “Perrin trusts him,” he said casually. Looking at her once more he said, “I think I should train him.”
Moiraine raised her eyebrows. “You think to make him one of your Ash’aman?”
Rand shook his head. “He is too different, and I don’t think he would want to be. I think Perrin would also dislike the idea. But I think I should make him aware of what he is capable of, and teach him. At least some basic weaves,” Rand shrugged. “Do you think I should? Do you think he can be trusted?”
Moiraine thought for a moment and then nodded. “He has been through a lot, but I believe he is a good man.”

~~~

      Buffy stood in stunned silence. Willow, Xander, and Giles were sitting at her kitchen table while she, Angel, and Spike stood around them. Buffy stayed as far away from Spike as possible, and determinedly did not look at him. Giles and Angel had just finished explaining what they had learned from a powerful oracle in L.A.
      “So what you’re saying,” she said, looking from Giles to Angel and back again, “is that the barriers between dimensions are ripping open? Like what Glory did?”
      “Yes,” said Giles, “Except instead of one big opening into many dimensions, there are many small openings, opening into only one other dimension each. Also, it appears that the openings are only between dimensions that are somewhat similar. Well, if you went through one, the world beyond could be incredibly different, but there shouldn’t be any openings leading to Hell dimensions, or anything of that nature. Not to say there aren’t any consequences to the breaking of these barriers.”
      “I can imagine,” said Buffy wryly. “But what I want to know is- does this have anything to do with Dawn?”
      Giles shook his head. “She- that is, the Key- is used for a very specific ritual- the one that Glory performed. Whatever is causing this to happen, it’s something completely different.”
      Buffy let out a breath. “Alright,” she said, “what do we do?”
      Giles shifted uncomfortably. “There’s not really much we can do,” he said reluctantly.
      “Keep your ear to the ground,” said Angel. “Look out for any unusual demon activity, and get as much information as you can. That’s all we can do for now, until we know what’s causing this.”
      Buffy stared at the table in frustrated silence. She hated knowing there was a problem and not being able do anything about it.
      “Don’t worry, love,” said Spike, “We’ll find something to give a good thrashing.” She pointedly ignored him.
      “Well,” said Xander after a moment, sensing the tension, “it’s pretty late, or early depending on how you look at it; I say we turn in.”
      “Yes, that sounds like a capital plan,” agreed Giles, standing up. Everyone started heading for the door. Willow hung back, looking at Buffy hopefully.
      “You can stay in Dawn’s room,” she said with a smile.
      “Thanks,” Willow said, relieved, and headed to the room.
      Buffy followed the rest outside, said goodbye to Xander and Giles, who got into their cars and drove away. She watched them go and then turned to Angel.
      “You staying around?” Buffy asked, shooting for casual and missing.
      Angel smiled regretfully and shook his head. “I gotta get back to Washington. I’ve got this new job in the FBI…”
      “Oh yeah, I heard about that,” replied Buffy, trying to keep the conversation going so she would not have to be alone with Spike.
      “Yeah, anyway, I’ve got my hands full with the Slayerettes. Ever since that spell you guys did, we’ve had problems with girls who haven’t gotten a watcher or just don’t want one forming gangs. It’s like an army of a bunch of you.”
      Buffy raised her eyebrows.
      “Except way dumber and not nearly as pretty,” Angel added quickly.
      “Right.”
      “Anyway, I should go…plus Mr. I’m-dead-and-I-still-bleach-my-lame-ass-hair is lurking over there.”
      Buffy threw a quick glance over her shoulder to see Spike leaning against the front door frame, staring at them.
      “He does like to lurk,” she said as she turned back to Angel.
      “Seriously,” he said, “What were you thinking when you slept with him?”
      “Um…Gee, I hope a building doesn’t fall down on us this time?”
      Spike chuckled behind her. Angel looked puzzled.
      “What?”
      “Nothing,” said Buffy quickly. “I guess you should get going. It’s late.”
      “Yeah,” said Angel, turning away.
      “Angel,” Buffy said, and he turned back toward her. She walked up to him and kissed him on the mouth. She heard Spike shift and make an indignant noise. She kissed him a little longer, and then pulled away. “Be careful.”
      “Always am,” Angel replied. He looked past Buffy to give Spike a smug look, smiled at Buffy, then turned around and left.
      Buffy watched him go, and then stood still for several moments after, not wanting to face Spike. She could feel his eyes on her.
      “Buffy,” Spike called. She turned around, crossed her arms, and looked at him, waiting for him to speak. He walked up to her and put his hands on her arms. “Buffy,” he said again, softly.
      “Don’t touch me!” Buffy exclaimed, throwing his arms off of her.
      “What?” asked Spike, looking hurt.
      She looked at him angrily, and then punched him in the face, sending him to the ground several feet away. “What?” she shouted, “What? You’ve been alive for the past three years, and you didn’t come to see me, you didn’t try to talk to me, you didn’t even call to tell me you’re alive! And then you just show up one day like it’s no big deal? I had to find out now, like this, and you’re asking me what?” Tears were streaming down her cheeks. Spike looked at her, touching his face where she had struck him.
      “I’m sorry, I-“
      “SORRY? What’s wrong with you! What’s wrong with me?” she shouted, throwing her hands in the air. “Why does no one ever come to see me unless there’s an apocalypse?” She looked at Spike through her tears. “How could you-" She cut off and shook her head. “Forget it,” she said, walking inside. “Good night, Spike,” she said, and shut the door.
      Spike got up, and looked at the door, then at the road. Everyone’s cars were gone. He looked back at the door. “Guess I’ll be sleeping outside then,” he said. He kicked at the grass angrily and walked away.
      
     ~~~