Innocence Regained

They appeared together again on the wide expanse of lawn in front of an intact Sunnydale High School. Spike looked around and shook his head. "You really didn't enjoy school, did you?" he asked. "Most of your nightmares seem to end up here."

"It could have something to do with there being a Hellmouth in the library," Buffy replied acerbically. "Why didn't we go back this time?"

"I'm not the one in charge of planning this trip, pet," Spike said. "It's your head we're in. Can't you figure a way out? Though 'in you' isn't a place I would normally leave willingly," he leered cheerfully.

Buffy rolled her eyes at this and turned away, hugging herself as she looked around. "It feels so . . . sad here," she whispered. "Like my heart should be breaking. If I didn't know this was only a nightmare, I'd be crying already." She looked back at Spike, who was wearing a puzzled frown. "Can't you feel it?"

He shook his head. " 's not my nightmare, love. Can you tell where we are and what we should be doing?"

"I know I've had this nightmare before. I just can't remember it right now." She took a few deep breaths to steady herself against the pervasive sorrow and tried to focus on the two of them and their surroundings. Spike looked the same as always, but she had exchanged the white skirt for black pants and a thigh length dark jacket. "It's not like I can tell what day it is by what I'm wearing," she complained. "Though if I were wandering around Sunnydale in the evening feeling sad . . ." Her face drained of colour. "It's the day after Angel and I - the day after Angel lost his soul," she amended quickly.

Spike chose to refrain from commenting on that touchy subject and offered additional information instead. "He came to see us - me and Dru - late the previous night. We thought at first it was some new plot, until the Judge said there was no humanity left in him. The damn creature didn't like us nearly as well, as I recall," he said. "Something about reeking of love and loyalty." He looked at her speculatively, and then continued. "Angelus had this grand plan to drive you mad like he'd done with Dru, by going after all your friends."

"Oh god," Buffy exclaimed. "It's Willow. In this nightmare he kills Willow. We have to get into the school and stop him."

Spike took her hands. "We can do that. Tell me what you want me to do," he asked.

Buffy thought furiously. "Go in through the front of the school and stop Willow and Xander before they run into him," she instructed. "I'll take care of Angel. He should be coming in the side door near the lounge.

"Right," he replied shortly. They split up and headed into the school.

Spike decided to head up to the second floor so as not to run into Giles or the Calendar woman - they'd never believe his story in any case. As he approached the stairs back to the main floor near the student lounge, he could hear Willow and Xander long before he saw them. They were talking about how to deal with the Judge. He reflected on bygone days somewhat wistfully. Back when he'd been so in love with Dru and it had seemed like a good idea to kill the Slayer, the Judge had been the most marvellous of presents. Buffy really had spoiled everything, first by dropping that damn organ on him, then making it possible for Angelus to turn up again and start acting like his old, annoying self - starting with stealing Dru away from him. Everything had gone to hell after that.

Still, he reminded himself, now he got to have the Slayer - sort of - and it would surely be an unholy joy to turn the tables on the grand poof, when Angelus was thinking of him as only Dru's injured lapdog. His face split in a wide grin. Just then, the lights went out, and he made his way quickly down the stairs, keeping out of sight.

"Now I'm having a wiggins," came Xander's voice from below.

"What's going on?" Willow asked.

"Let's get to the library," Xander advised, when Angelus' voice came from the far end of the hallway.

"Willow. Xander," he said. Spike wondered how they ever could have been taken in. How could they not hear the changes in him? His own nerves trilled at the thought of facing off against his vampiric forebear. Good thing I always had this little problem with authority figures, he thought.

"Angel," Xander acknowledged flatly. No love lost there, thought Spike. Not for any of us who'd take Buffy away from you, right?

"Thank god you're okay," said Willow, relieved. Then she asked, "Did you see Buffy?"

"Yeah," he replied. "What's up with the lights?" That's right, play the innocent. Spike's mind continued to supply commentary on the action.

"I don't know," Xander said. "Listen, I think I have an idea."

Angelus dismissed him out of hand. "Forget about that now," he said. "I . . . I've got something to show you." Mmm-hmm, they're about this big, and they're sharp and pointy. All the better to eat you with, my dear. Spike found his own bloodlust rising, and he had to struggle sharply to regain control.

"Show us?" Willow asked, confused.

"Yeah. Xander," Angelus commanded, "go and get the others."

"Okay," said Xander, and headed off at a run through the doors and towards the library.

"And Willow," Angelus added. "Come here."

Engrossed in fighting his own demon, Spike nearly missed his chance. He rushed down the stairs. "Don't do it, Red," he advised. "He's not what you think."

"S-Spike?" she stammered, whirling around to where he stood in the stairwell. "What-"

"Spike?" roared Angelus wrathfully. "What the hell is going on?"

"You wouldn't believe the half of it, mate," Spike said in challenge as he rounded the turn at the bottom of the stairs to face his grandsire. He saw Buffy coming through the doors at the end of the hall and charging towards them. "And speaking of my better half-" He had to duck a sudden, enraged swing.

"How the hell did you get out of that chair?" Angelus demanded as he advanced again.

"Always was a quick healer," he replied disdainfully. "Which is more we'll be able say for you," he added thoughtfully, as Buffy hurtled into Angelus from behind, raining down furious blows that brought him to his knees. Spike got in a few of his own for good measure. Nothing improved his temper like a little mayhem.

Just then, Ms. Calendar came through the doors, bearing a cross. "Willow, get back," she said. "That's not Angel any more."

Xander came pelting down the hallway behind them, and skidded to a stop. "What the hell?" he exclaimed, on seeing the tumult in the hall.

"Ms. Calendar - Jenny - get them out of here!" Buffy shouted, and her friends took off in the other direction. Angelus was fighting back like a cornered animal, and even at two against one, they were hard pressed to contain him. At one point, he knocked Buffy back against the wall so hard that she slid down it, momentarily dazed. At this, Spike charged forward and drove both his fists deep into Angelus' belly, doubling him over. He followed up with a two-handed blow to the back of his head that brought him to his knees. By then, Buffy had recovered enough to add a kick that sent him sprawling. He scuttled for the door and escape, and Buffy turned to follow him, but Spike held her back.

"We've accomplished what we came for, love," he said. "Besides, it would hurt him more to get away, knowing that you'd beaten him - and that I'd turned on him. Serves him right anyway, for stealing Dru away from me.

"He came back that night," he added. "All full of himself. Going on about how he was going to hurt you, telling me I was a wreck in that wheelchair and flirting with Dru. Sodding poof. Wouldn't even try to kill you without some big production . . ." His voice trailed away as he tardily remembered it was the object of his former plans to whom he was speaking.

"You're not picking any of those feelings up from being in this nightmare, are you?" Buffy asked, concerned.

"No," he replied immediately. "I know why I'm here. I came in to help you - though I don't seem to be doing anything towards getting us out of here." He looked deep into her eyes, desperate to convince her of his sincerity. "I'm doing it because I'm in love with you, and because I want you to - and I know you don't want to hear any of this," he said quickly before she could protest, "so I'll just hope that you'll believe for now I'm your friend."

Buffy was silent for some time. The two of them made themselves relatively comfortable on the stairs as they waited for the dream to end. "But about what you said in the hallway?" she ventured, out of the blue.

"What I - when?" he asked, puzzled.

"Better half?" she enquired, raising one brow.

"Ah. Man can dream, can't he?" he replied with a smile, which suddenly became quite foolish as she leaned towards him to kiss his cheek.

"Thank you William," she said simply. "For helping to keep this dream from going wrong again."

And for the first time in his unlife, Spike found himself without a witty comeback.

Sacrifices

"Bloody hell!" Spike shouted, as his skin began to smoke in the strong daylight. He dove for the nearest deep shadows against a wall. Looking out from their safety, he swore again, feelingly. "Not the damn school again! What is it with you?"

Buffy joined him in the shade. "Hey, this place was a huge part of my life for three years. It's no wonder we end up here."

"How can you have nightmares about broad daylight? That sounds like it should be my nightmare - look at it, it's bloody dangerous."

In spite of what dangers might loom ahead of them, Buffy laughed. "Let's see if we can get you to the nearest sewer, then," she said. "I'll go find out what's happening, and I'll meet you . . ."

"My crypt," he decided. "Or where it will be, since it isn't mine yet if the school's still standing. Soonest you can get there, pet. I'll let you know if any interesting information turns up on the way."

She nodded, and moved to the street to lift the nearest manhole cover that accessed Sunnydale's extensive sewer system. Covering himself as best he could with his duster, Spike dashed for the street through the murderous sunlight, and dropped through the opening, only slightly scorched.

Replacing the cover, Buffy headed for the school doors for what she hoped would finally be the last time. It seemed in all respects to be a regular school day, so she moved purposefully towards the library as though an urgent research project awaited her. Not all that far from the truth, she thought.

Sure enough, when she reached the library she found Giles, Willow, Xander and Cordelia clustered around the table, which was littered with dozens of open volumes. Giles had just placed one in front of Xander. "Well, you should have better luck with this one. There's a whole section devoted to the Order of Taraka."

Buffy froze in place. A cascade of images threatened to overwhelm her: being attacked at the ice rink; the 'policewoman' using her for target practice; the bug man; Spike in the abandoned church where he would perform the ritual to heal Druscilla at the cost of Angel's life. She knew that in reality, Spike had been defeated and so badly injured that he'd been essentially harmless for months while it was Angel and Druscilla who terrorized everyone she loved. But all she could remember from the uncounted times she'd experienced this nightmare was seeing the lifeless bodies of her friends and her first love scattered about her while Spike and a restored Dru had gloated in their triumph. Buffy tried to narrow the focus of her thoughts to the truth of William - the man he had become - waiting to help her yet again.

It shook her to see Kendra, alive again in this dream, calmly sharpening a knife in Giles' office. She waved absentminded greeting to the others as she passed, and went to speak with the other Slayer, slipping easily into the flow of the dream for a while until she could find a way to communicate what she had learned to William.

"Your life is very different dan mine," Kendra said, seeing Buffy walk in.

"You mean the part where I occasionally have one?" she asked. "Yeah, I guess it is."

"De tings you do and have, I was taught, distract from my calling. Friends, school . . . even family," Kendra explained. "My parents, dey sent me to my Watcher when I was very young."

"I guess it just sounds very lonely," Buffy replied.

"Emotions are weakness, Buffy." Kendra said with a superior tone. "You shouldn't entertain dem."

Buffy could only think of the friendship and love she'd known - though sometimes from the most extraordinary people, she thought with a secret smile - and how much she would be reduced without them. "Kendra, my emotions give me power. They're total assets!" she insisted. Kendra wiped her sharpened blade free of metal fragments carefully. "Maybe for you," she said. "But I prefer to keep an even mind."

"Mmm. I guess that explains it."

"Explains what?" asked Kendra, suddenly curious.

Buffy answered playfully. "Oh, well, when we were fighting, uh, you're amazing! Your technique, it's flawless, it's, hmm, better than mine."

"I know," the other girl replied smugly.

Well, you have ego, at least. "Still, I would have kicked your butt in the end. And you know why? No imagination."

"Really? Ya tink so?" Kendra put down the rag she had been using on her knife and looked at Buffy intently.

"Oh, I know so. You're good, but power alone isn't enough. A good fighter needs to know how to improvise, to go with the flow. Uh-uh, seriously, don't get me wrong - you really do have potential."

"Potential? I could wipe de floor wit you right now!" she replied hotly.

Buffy looked her directly in the eye. "That would be anger you're feeling."

"What?" she asked, confused.

"You feel it, right? How the anger gives you fire? A Slayer needs that." You especially will need that if we're all going to survive the next few hours.

Xander interrupted her pep talk as he came into the office to retrieve a book. "Excuse me, ladies," he said. Kendra looked uncomfortably down at the floor, and Buffy remembered being told how little the other Slayer had been permitted to interact with others, particularly boys. "Nice knife," Xander added, and then left again.

"I'm not permitted to speak with boys," Kendra offered by way of explanation, not even needing to be asked.

"Unless you're pummelling them," Buffy replied. She suddenly realized how she could turn this sequence to her advantage and get away on her own. "Wait a minute."

"What?"

"That guy!" she said. "The sleazoid you nearly decked in the bar."

"You tink he might help us?"

"I tink we might make him!" Buffy said, cheerily mimicking the other girl's accent for a moment.

"Giles," Buffy leaned through the door to address the others. "I think I know where we can get some information about what Spike's planning and where he is right now."

"Take Kendra with you then," he said, "for safety's sake."

"I think Kendra should stay here, since she knows so much about the Order of Taraka," Buffy said, playing shamelessly on the other Slayer's sense of duty. "I can handle this bit of grunt work." Since I already know what's going to happen and am not going anywhere near Willy. Without giving anyone time to argue, she was quickly out the door and on her way to rendezvous with William to try and derail this nightmare before it went any further.

**********

Buffy found him investigating the crypt that he had made his home - would make his home in the future history of this memory? This dream syntax was impossible, she decided. At this point it was only bare stone, lacking all the comfortable touches he had added.

"You know," he said, sensing her entrance but not turning around, "I think I'll be glad to have the chance to redecorate when we get back. I was getting bored with the old look anyway."

When she didn't reply, he raised his eyes and took in her worried expression. "What is it this time, love?" he asked.

"It's you again," she said shortly. "Or rather, it's Spike," she amended, falling back into the nomenclature they'd worked out when faced with his dream double before. "Angel's been captured-"

"For the ritual of Du Lac," he completed for her. "So I could heal Dru." His face lost all expression and he leaned back against one of the frosted windows, hands clutching the stone sill by his sides. "I seem to have made quite the impression on you, to be featured in so many of your nightmares."

Buffy wasn't sure if he was regretful or bragging. "I told the others I was off to beat some information on your whereabouts out of Willy, but I have to get back quickly. You have to stop Spike from completing the ritual and killing Angel, and Kendra and I have to protect everyone from the Order of Taraka, or this time they all die."

Spike didn't move. "You're aware in this dream," he said slowly. "You know that it's not real. Why not just wait here until it's over?"

"It's real to me!" Buffy insisted. "I can't let it happen again."

"So what you're asking," he said, "is that I go attack myself, deceive and probably kill the woman I loved for a century - who made me everything I am - all to save the bastard who would try to steal her away from me in a few weeks. Who, incidentally, is nothing but a figment of your imagination and will vanish like the morning dew in only a few hours."

Put that way, Buffy found it difficult to argue. "It's Druscilla, isn't it?" she asked, thinking she understood. "You don't want to have to see her again."

"I didn't say I wouldn't," he replied, ignoring her question. "I know that letting the nightmare run unchanged will only make you weaker and it will be harder to get us out of here. I only want you to realize what you're asking me to do. For you.

"You know I'd kill for you. I'd die for you. But I'm damned if I know what it will take to get you to feel anything for me. Oh wait, that's right. I'm already damned," he said sarcastically.

She moved closer to him, bringing one hand hesitantly up to his cheek, while the other spread warmly on his chest. "William, please," she said, "I need your help. I know what I'm asking."

He pulled her hand back from his face and turned his head to the side. "You don't have to bribe me," he said harshly, "I'd have done it for you anyway." Spike let his gaze wander shamelessly over her. "But then, I'm not your precious Angel, either, all noble and self-sacrificing. If you're offering . . ." his voice trailed away as he pulled her fractionally closer.

"I didn't mean . . . it wasn't a bribe," she insisted. "I really don't know if we can change this nightmare; there are so many people in danger and so many ways it can still go wrong. I know that if I were on my own in this dream, unaware, I'd be terrified. I want to be with you," she said resolutely. "Now. Here. I do understand what I'm asking, and what I'm offering," she repeated. Part of her - a part that was getting smaller by the moment - cried out that giving herself to a demon was utterly wrong. But a much larger part now allowed the possibility of joy with this man who knew her so intimately in so many ways, all her hopes and fears. No one else had ever so easily slipped through her defences to find the person behind the myth of the Slayer.

"If you love me, William," she said softly, pressing into his embrace and pulling his arms around her. "Then love me." Her greedy mouth captured his, biting at his full lower lip.

He pulled back for a moment to look into her eyes, seeking confirmation of his hopes. "When we get back," he said. "We do this properly; with candles and wine and music and all. But for right here, right now . . . turn around," he whispered roughly in her ear.

She obeyed, and he turned both of them to face the window. His left hand deftly opened her pants and slipped under the taut elastic of her panties. His fingers plunged into her deeply, once, twice - burning with need at finding her already wet for him. Buffy moaned and pressed her hips back into his growing hardness.

Spike withdrew his fingers, tugged her pants down over her hips to her thighs and then reached back for his own zipper. One hand in the middle of her back pushed her to lean forward until her hands splayed against the translucent windowpanes. He nudged her legs further apart with one foot. Bringing his other arm around her waist, he thrust into her suddenly and powerfully. Their heated cries echoed together from the cold stone walls. For a while at least, their thoughts turned only about each other.

He moved slowly at first, but as his control frayed, he began to shudder and gasp for the breath he didn't need. Her hands streaked the glass as her body began to tremble with her impending climax. Approaching his own, he tightened his arms and drew her back against him, whispering hotly in her ear words meant for her alone - no other woman had wrung such admissions from him before. There was nothing of tenderness in what brought them together; it only served to satisfy a wild, driving need they both shared. But when her pounding heart and ragged breathing began to slow again, he drew her hair back from her temple and kissed her gently there.

Not a word passed between them as they drew their clothing back into order. Everything that needed to be said their faces and bodies spoke for them as they clung together, desperate for small solace in this nightmare, until they could no longer put off the inevitable. "Be careful," Buffy whispered, before kissing him goodbye.

"Where were you with that advice before I fell in love with the Slayer?" he asked wryly, and slipped out the door into the relative safety of twilight before she could reply.

Buffy made her way quickly back to the school, to lead the others to the abandoned church, but this time, she hoped, not to their deaths.

**********

Spike approached the factory warily, careful to keep from being seen by any of his minions on patrol. It was less difficult than he expected, and he sighed inwardly at the low quality of their service before slipping quietly inside.

He could hear Dru's mesmerizing tones and Angel's screams as she tortured him with holy water by their bed. Retrieving some handcuffs and other restraints, he lay in wait for his dream self to return. He didn't have to wait for long. Striking from behind, and with exact knowledge of his opponent's weaknesses, he overpowered his doppelganger and left him securely bound and hidden in such a way that he would neither escape nor be found for several hours at least. I hope I'm not being stupid by not killing him, but that's just a little too much like suicide. He took a deep, unnecessary, but steadying breath and entered the bedroom.

"That's it, then," he said, drawing Druscilla's attention away from the captive Angel tied at the foot of their bed. "Off to church." Even though this wasn't his nightmare, the words seemed to burn brightly in his memory, pulling him back into the past.

Druscilla stood as he entered. "It makes pretty colours," she said, indicating the livid burns on Angel's chest.

He replied with an annoyed puff of air. "I'll see him die soon enough. I've never been much for the pre-show," he said, reaching up to untie one of Angel's wrists. Druscilla put away the pitcher of holy water and retrieved Miss Edith from where she had been placed to watch the bloody show.

"Too bad," said Angel mockingly. "That's what Druscilla likes best, as I recall."

Spike could remember just how easily Angel had gotten under his skin by taunting him with his own former relationship with Dru. This time, however, he only played along, waiting. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked as he remembered asking before, moving to untie Angel's other wrist.

"Ask her. She knows what I mean," he replied.

Druscilla came up to stand behind him, and he turned his head to see her more clearly. He could still feel the lure that his dark goddess held for him, and struggled to remember the treachery and the betrayals that had torn them apart. "Well?" he asked, more harshly than he had intended.

Druscilla spoke to Angel from over his shoulder. "Shhh! Grrrruff! Bad dog," she teased.

Still looking to make him lose control, Angel answered her. "You should have let me talk to him, Dru. Sounds like your boy could use some pointers." He directed his next words back to Spike. "She likes to be teased."

Spike finished untying the other rope and threw it to the floor. Any moment now, he thought. I'll show you what I know about teasing. "Keep your hole shut!" he shouted, standing over his intended victim. Angel's superior attitude vanished suddenly. Spike could see in his face the exact moment that he detected Buffy's scent on his captor, and looked up in fear.

"What have you done with Buffy?" Angel cried, agony wringing out his words.

"You should really ask what haven't we done," Spike replied smugly, knowing that it wasn't the scent of Buffy's fear that Angel was detecting on him, but rather that of her desire - which would torment him even more. "There are such depths of dark need in her that you'd never have been able to satisfy her for long."

He grabbed Angel by the throat, lifted him to his feet and held him against the bedpost. "You two would never have had the fire we have," he said, delighted to be turning his memories of Angel's words against him. He would have continued his taunting, but Druscilla interrupted him.

"Spike, the moon is rising," she said. "It's time - unasareru." Her eyes darkened and her voice became low and rough. "Come walk with me in álmok világa."

Spike turned to her, puzzled. Her dark eyes were dizzying him with the intensity of her stare. Something - there was something he was supposed to be doing . . . We have to get to the church before the moon rises - for the ritual, of course. Beloved, you'll soon be strong again.

He could hardly contain his glee at finally having his enemy and rival at his mercy. "Too bad, Angelus. Looks like you go the hard way - along with the rest of this miserable town." He kept Angel held firmly against the bedpost as he and Druscilla engaged in a passionate kiss.

**********

Spike walked the main aisle of the church, swinging a burning incense censer. "Eligor. I name thee. Bringer of war, poisoners, pariahs, grand obscenity." He turned back to the altar, where he had strapped Angel and Druscilla together to a chain hanging from the ceiling. Angel's right hand had been tied to the chain above his head. He continued the chant.

"Eligor, wretched master of decay, bring your black medicine."

"Black medicine," Druscilla echoed from where she hung.

He set the censer down on the altar and picked up the Du Lac Cross with his gloved hand, holding it upside down. "Come. Restore your most impious, murderous child."

"Murderous child," Dru murmured.

He grasped the downward-pointing tip of the cross with his other hand and yanked down, pulling out a dagger. Spike then laid the rest of the cross back on the altar. "From the blood of the sire she is risen."

He raised Druscilla's left hand to Angel's and she clasped it tightly. "From the blood of the sire, she shall rise again," he intoned, and drew back his arm to strike.

"No!" Buffy screamed from the door of the church. Kendra took more direct action, firing a crossbow bolt that pierced his wrist, making him drop the cross and clutch his arm in agony. The rest of the Scooby gang spilled into the church behind them, spreading out to take on their foes.

"Patrice!" Spike yelled, calling for one of the Taraka assassins. She emerged from the shadows at the side of the church, drawing her gun. Kendra suddenly went into a series of flips ending in a kick that knocked Patrice down and sent the gun flying from her hands. She then ran immediately over to challenge Spike, who had just pulled the crossbow bolt through his wrist. Buffy met her there. "Who the hell is this?" Spike cried.

Kendra grabbed him by the shirt.

"It's your lucky day, Spike," Buffy said, but her voice seemed strangely choked with emotion.

"Two Slayers!" Kendra shouted, as her fist connected hard with his jaw.

"No waiting!" Buffy added, jabbing even harder to his stomach. He collapsed at her feet.

Buffy angrily brushed the tears from her eyes. Mourn for William later, she told herself sternly. First kill the bastards who killed him. Sudden movement caught her attention, and she whirled to face Patrice, who had armed herself again with blades from her wrist sheaths. She clutched at the assassin's arms and brought one knee up sharply into her stomach, then followed with a kick to the face that sent her stumbling back into the wall.

The various battles deteriorated into general chaos all around them, with her friends bravely challenging assassins and vampires at the risk of their lives. Behind Buffy, Spike got to his feet again to face Kendra's assault. He managed to duck her roundhouse kick, and punched her hard, knocking her down. Kendra scrambled to recover and defend herself, but Spike suddenly fell to his knees, clutching at his head and screaming in agony.

"Kendra! Switch!" Buffy called, moving swiftly to exchange places with the other Slayer.

She bent over and Kendra rolled over her back to face Patrice, immediately landing a punch and knocking her into the wall again. Buffy knelt in front of Spike. Spike wouldn't have the chip yet, so this has to be- "William," she breathed, nearly melting with relief that he hadn't been killed after all. Sure enough, there was the dream travel amulet on his hand, now pulsing raggedly with feeble light beneath a slick coating of blood from his wound. What happened here?

"Questions later," she muttered to herself, on seeing that he would recover. "First put an end to this." Buffy rolled across the floor in front of the altar and seized the dagger of the Du Lac Cross from where it had been dropped. Trapping the blade under one foot, she pulled up sharply on the hilt, snapping it in two. It flared with a sudden purple light, and then vanished from her hands. Around her everything became still. One by one both friend and foe vanished from the church, shimmering into indistinct blurs, all except for the bound pair at the altar.

Spike staggered up behind her, still holding one hand to his head. He reached for the chain where it was anchored, and let Angel and Druscilla down carefully to the floor. Unbinding them, he sat and drew Druscilla gently into his lap. "That was so very exciting," she whispered faintly. "Will I be better soon?" Her body suddenly shivered into dust in his arms, and he bent over with a low moan of pain. Angel vanished in the same instant, before Buffy could even get near him.

Buffy swallowed her own sorrow and came up behind him, laying a hand on one shoulder. "William," she said softly, "I know what you're feeling, but it's only a dream. She's not really dead."

He shook her hand from his shoulder angrily. "Leave off, Slayer," he said harshly, tears squeezing from behind his closed lids. "I've already turned my back on everything I am, for you. Dru . . . was the centre of my world for more than a hundred years. Dream or not, I'll always know I killed her." He rocked despondently over his empty hands. But he finally got back to his feet, brushing the dust of his past away.

"I only looked at her," he said, "and I was swallowed up in the dream. The Nightmare Master reached me through her, and I almost killed you. Some rescuer I turned out to be," he said cynically.

"I wouldn't have made it this far without your help," she insisted. "When you found me I was ready to die - I would have killed myself in one of my dreams if it had gone on much longer." She moved close to him and slipped one arm around his waist. He accepted her comfort this time, bringing his own arm around her and resting his cheek against her hair.

A hot gust of air suddenly swept through the church, stirring the debris into frenzied little dust devils. They both stared as one twisted column of dust grew thicker and darker in front of them, spinning into a vaguely man-like form with dark fires where the eyes should be. "König des Terrors," it said in a sibilant whisper, and "Seigneur des Rêves. Fear me."

Spike released Buffy and stepped forward with clenched fists. "I've had enough of you jerking my chain," he roared.

"Spike, no!" Buffy cautioned, her instincts telling her that this was exactly the wrong thing to do. But she was too late. Spike waded into the maelstrom of dust and was immediately seized and flung across the church, striking the wall hard and sliding down it to lie limply on the floor.

The room hazed as though seen through heat waves above a desert highway and everything faded to black.

Praha

Buffy found herself standing alone on a dark street corner in a city she didn't recognize. She ducked quickly into the shadow of the nearest building to give herself time to assess the situation. She knew something had gone wrong - even more wrong, if wrongness could be so graduated - this had to still be a nightmare, but she knew both that and exactly who she was. So what was going on?

Buffy took a few moments to examine her surroundings more closely. With the exception of an ornate church spire she could see in the distance, none of the buildings were over three stories tall, and all of them seemed uniformly old and foreign in architecture. Even the streetlights were subtly different than what she was used to, and shone their light on what she decided must be a cobblestone pavement, wet with recent rain. Buffy began to fear that she had been cast adrift in some stranger's dreams and would never find her way out. This was nothing she had ever even imagined before.

Her attention was suddenly drawn by a commotion at the end of the street, and she realized that the previous stillness had been quite unnatural. The tumult grew in volume and Buffy drew back further into the concealing shadows of the nearest alley. Some way down the street, a man and a woman staggered around a corner. The woman struggled with her long skirts and was half dragged, half carried by her companion. He himself seemed to be having some difficulty walking, but never stopped supporting her. They stumbled from wall to curb to lamppost and on with an air of desperation, as if in flight from some deadly pursuit.

Beyond them an angry crowd spilled into the street. The people bore an assortment of weapons, ranging from kitchen knives to rifles, with every imaginable possibility in between. They roared with one voice in animalistic fury as they spotted the two fugitives, who tried desperately to increase their pace. Buffy could see the fear in their bearing, but also their grim determination. She had just stepped forward to call them to shelter in the alley when the man moved into one of the scattered pools of illumination thrown by the streetlamps. Light flared off slicked back pale hair and highlighted a profile she knew almost as intimately as she knew her own face in the mirror. Her words died unspoken in her mouth.

"Spike," she whispered, and then realized who his companion must be. "And Druscilla. Oh god." Her legs weakened and she stumbled back against the wall for much needed support. She was still in a nightmare - only this one was Spike's. This was Prague, and he and Druscilla would be captured and Dru nearly killed by the mob pursuing them. But this time, Dru would be killed, in this warped retelling of Spike's memories and fears.

Let her die, whispered a cold voice in Buffy's mind. She deserves it - and then Angel, Kendra, Giles and Mom will all be safe. She shook her head angrily to clear it. This was not time travel, and this was not real - only a memory. Angel would still be gone and Kendra would still be dead no matter what she did here. But if this nightmare were allowed to play itself out to its dark conclusion, Spike - William - would suffer as though it were real. His anguish would feed the Nightmare Master and he would weaken as she had done. Without her intervention, he would eventually die - as she would have without his. Remembering what she had undergone trapped in her own nightmares, she knew she couldn't abandon him.

I am never, ever going to be able to explain this to anyone, she thought. I can't believe I'm really doing this. She repeated to herself sternly that she was doing this only because she would need Spike's help to break free of the dreams. Ignoring the fears and the outraged scream of the Primal Slayer in her mind, Buffy stepped into the light. "Spike!" she shouted, waving one arm to attract his attention. "Over here!"

He looked up, saw her and the two of them redoubled their efforts to flee the pursuing mob, but Druscilla's flowing skirts tangled about her legs and sent her sprawling to the damp street. "Spike!" she cried, "don't leave me!"

"Never," he replied, lifting her bodily and breaking into a limping run towards the alley mouth and the promised sanctuary.

Buffy withdrew into the alley to scout potential escape routes. Further along, it branched into several smaller laneways, each containing a number of doorways, back entrances into various commercial and warehouse properties. She kicked open a few doors to serve as a distraction to their pursuers, then found one that could be easily blocked shut again from the other side. She waved Spike and Dru through, then barricaded the door. The two vampires clung desperately together. Buffy saw that Spike's amulet was still intact on his hand, but the centre stone was cracked and dark. He didn't show any sign of recognizing her.

The three of them found themselves in a warehouse storing unused shop equipment; display cases, shelving units and clothing racks filled the floor. The cavernous interior was divided on one side into two levels by a suspended platform. The upper level was jumbled with a collection of mannequins in various states of assembly - arms, legs and torsos piled haphazardly. Others more complete, clothed and unclothed, stood like blind sentinels overlooking the floor below. It was up into this forest of limbs that Buffy directed them.

"I don't want to go up there," Druscilla moaned piteously. "They want to take us apart. Stacked like cordwood for the winter and burned."

Buffy had no patience for her hysterical visions. "If you want to survive," she said to Spike harshly, "you get her up there and shut her up."

He snarled and thrust a fanged and bloodstained face into hers. "Who the hell are you to-"

"I'm the one who's going to save your ass," she interrupted brusquely. "Answers later, if we make it." Spike growled, but offered no further argument. He herded the reluctant Druscilla up the stairs into the concealment of the lifeless crowd, and Buffy followed closely behind. With any luck, anyone looking up into their hiding place would see them only as three more figures in the inanimate throng.

Restless minutes passed as the grumbling of the mob grew in the laneway outside the warehouse door. Buffy didn't dare to risk a look out over the edge of the platform, but heard glass breaking up and down the alley as the crowd vented its frustration. Spike clapped a hand quickly over Druscilla's mouth when stones shattered the windows on the floor below them.

A few people climbed in through the broken panes, looking for something to loot or vandalize after being deprived of the fun of killing vampires. Buffy tried to signal to Spike with her eyes the desperate need to keep quiet; he gave a sharp nod as if he understood. She steeled herself; fighting humans, even dream ones, was not how she ever wanted to use her abilities, but she would if given no other choice. Luck was with them, though; after a few cursory glances around, the vandals left, finding nothing in the warehouse to interest them.

Buffy released the breath she felt as though she had been holding for hours and turned to the others. Druscilla collapsed to the floor like a puppet with cut strings, clutching at her head, and Spike was instantly by her side murmuring soothing words and stroking her bare arms.

He looked up at Buffy with his feral face. "You saved us; I'll return the favour," he said. "Get out now and we'll not hurt you."

Dru gripped at his coat to draw him closer. "She walks wrong on the skin of the earth," she muttered, "can't you hear the lost angels singing?"

"What are you seeing, Dru?" Spike asked her. "What about the girl?"

"Power," she sighed.

With another caress, Spike released her and stood, advancing toward Buffy. His head tilted as he inspected her more closely. "Something familiar here," he said in a low voice. "Something I haven't felt since . . . Slayer!" he cried suddenly, lunging for her throat.

She whirled to evade his attack. Lacing the fingers of both hands together, she brought her fists down on the back of his neck as he flew past her, sending him face first into the floor. Before he could recover, she had dropped on top of him, pinning his arms to his sides with her legs and using one forearm to hold his shoulders down.

"Who are you?" he demanded. "How do you know my name? Why did you help us?"

"All very good questions that I'd love to answer, if you'd only-" her words were suddenly choked off by Druscilla's hands at her throat, dragging her back and off of Spike's prone form. Buffy swore at herself inwardly; just because Druscilla was Miss Froot Loops most of the time didn't mean she could be safely ignored. She threw herself backwards into Dru's hold instead of resisting, catching her off guard and breaking free. She carried her movement into a back shoulder roll and pulled up in a crouch with her feet tucked under her.

Before she could recover further Spike had launched himself at her again. She landed hard on her back, the blow driving the air from her lungs. He straddled her hips, trapping her legs, and held her hands pinned beside her head. Buffy gasped for air and struggled to free herself, but his grip was too strong. Golden eyes assessed her coldly.

"Dru, my precious pet," he said, "come and see the treat Daddy's got for you. Your very own Slayer to taste."

Druscilla sidled up beside them and ran a black nail delicately along Buffy's throat. She flinched, but couldn't pull away. "I don't want her," Dru said abruptly. "She wants to take you away from me. She thinks you belong to her. Tell her to go away."

Spike shrugged. "She's always been a finicky eater," he said, as though he always indulged in casual conversation with his victims. "But you'll find I'm not so fussy." He bared his fangs and leaned forward.

Buffy cringed at this horrific parody of some of the times she'd been in his bed. There had to be some way to reach him, to snap him out of his nightmare - though it had rapidly become hers too. She had often wondered what would happen to people who died in their dreams, but she hadn't ever really wanted to be the one who found out. She sought his eyes with hers and whispered, "William . . ."

Druscilla shrieked; a banshee wail of loss.

Buffy watched relieved as the demon's face above her melted back into the man's and shocked recognition filled his eyes. "Buffy?" he asked, releasing her suddenly and backing away. "What am I doing?"

"It wasn't you," she replied, "it was your nightmare. The Nightmare Master's become linked to you now, instead of me. It wasn't you," she repeated for emphasis, seeing the growing horror in his face.

"It was me," he contradicted, his voice shaking. "It was." He turned away. Buffy wanted to reach for him, to comfort him, but let her hand fall. She had no words for this. She felt the tingling in her skin that heralded the shift; it couldn't come fast enough for her.

"I thought he was mine, but he was yours all along," Druscilla cried, covering her face with her hands and rocking helplessly.

The scene ran like a watercolour in the rain and they were gone.

Spike's Gift

The tower stood crazily in the distance against the indigo sky; the tinkertoy construction of a mad god. From here, all she could see were tiny figures like ants rushing about and over it. Not her nightmare, then, or she'd be in the thick of it. Buffy set off at a run to reach the tower and prevent whatever was going to go wrong this time.

As she made her way through the deserted streets, she kept her eyes on the tower, trying to discern what was happening at its summit. That slight figure at the edge of the cantilevered platform must be Dawn, she realized, and forced more speed from herself. Two others struggled on the walkway, and Buffy stifled a cry as one was suddenly thrown from the heights, black fabric fluttering about him but doing nothing to slow his meteoric fall.

Oh god - what if he dreams he died here? she wondered, her thoughts racing to challenge the speed of her thudding heart. Would that destroy him? . . . kill him? But after his fall, the nightmare continued to play itself out.

Buffy could now hear Dawn's screams as she drew nearer the abandoned lot and the tower. Somewhere below, she and all her friends were fighting Glory and her minions. She hadn't made it up the tower in time to save Dawn before, but vowed that she would change that outcome this time.

All her determination, however, couldn't slow the unfolding events. Dawn's blood - her blood - spilling from the heights, unlocked the door between dimensions. It flared a harsh, crackling electric blue, and hell entered the world. Misshapen beasts rode the air, while people and buildings all around were twisted into cruel dark parodies of the world she loved. And the only way now to close the door was if the blood of the key that had opened it stopped flowing. Maybe this is my nightmare after all, she thought. But I still won't sacrifice Dawn.

The sun began its climb into the sky at last, staining the world with red. Movement at the top of the tower again caught and held Buffy's attention, and she skidded to a stop. A small form flew from the edge - herself, she realized in shock - such a tiny figure, silhouetted against the first light of day. She saw herself suspended for a moment in space, and then plummeting into the heart of the maelstrom.

Buffy remembered everything about that instant of time as though it played out again in front of her. She had made her peace with the world and with her purpose in it. Her last words to Dawn had been for her friends to care for each other and to live - to live in this world she would buy them with her life. She remembered the fall and the blinding light and - most of all - the blazing pain, burning away every trace of her mortal self. And then she remembered the peace. The peace of knowing her job was done, that she was loved and could rest at last. Tears flowed down her face, unnoticed and unchecked.

The hell gate drew in on itself and vanished, as did all the changes it had wrought. The sudden silence was a greater shock to her ears than all the cacophony that had passed before.

Buffy came slowly into the lot at the base of the tower, dazed. Nothing had changed - from what she had been told by her friends, this was exactly how events had unfolded all those months ago - so what was she here to prevent? Her eyes were drawn to the tableau before her, to her own still and lifeless body lying in the rubble.

There was Tara, her mind newly restored by Willow's daring attack on Glory. The two of them leaned on each other, their faces crumpled with grief. There too was Xander, carrying the injured Anya cradled close against him. She could see his heart - the heart that had so often sustained all of them - breaking in his eyes. And Giles; dear, proper, oh-so-British Giles, fighting back his tears. Dawn joined them at the bottom of the stairs, moving stiffly from her ordeal, her face numb. She carried Buffy's last words for them to hear; whatever small comfort Buffy could offer them from beyond the world would come through Dawn. She could see her sister drawing strength from that knowledge, standing straight and wiping away tears - and Buffy loved her more than ever in that moment.

Beyond them, apart from them as always, a bright-haired, dark clad man collapsed to his knees and buried his face in his hands in a gesture of inconsolable sorrow that pierced her heart. She made her way forward slowly through the debris, unseen by anyone as the nightmare continued its inexorable course, until she reached his side. Buffy paused, and then knelt, her upraised hand trembling in the air between them. At last she reached for him, caressing a cheek wet with blood and tears, to turn his face towards hers.

"William," she murmured gently, almost tenderly. "I'm here. The nightmare's over. Wake up."

As her words sank in, he raised his eyes to her, blasting her with the naked emotion there. He clutched desperately at her as a drowning sailor might the last spar of his lost ship, pressed his face to her breast and sobbed her name. The world around them froze and drained of all colour like a photograph left too long in the sun.

Buffy held him for an eternity, tentatively stroking his hair until his sobs faded and his quaking shoulders stilled. The world around them remained tranquil and hushed, showing none of the signs they'd come to expect meant movement in the dream world, and she wondered if they had become trapped here forever.

"I don't understand," Buffy said uncertainly, when Spike had recovered and sat back wiping his eyes unselfconsciously. "I though our nightmares were about memories that were being made worse. This is exactly the way everything went - nothing here is worse than before."

Spike met her eyes squarely. "I couldn't keep my promise to you," he said quietly. "I didn't manage to protect Dawn. And because of that, you had to die." He shook his head. "I lived with that failure all summer. I patrolled and I took care of Dawn as best I could - and none of that made anything any better." How would you make it worse? was the unspoken question he left hanging in the air between them.

Buffy wasn't ready to address this revelation. Instead, she looked around them to see that the light seemed to be dimming, in spite of what should have been a new day. Their surroundings had become more like a stage setting than reality. "What happens now?" she asked.

Spike got carefully to his feet. With the passing of the nightmare his injuries had vanished but he still felt weak. He reached down and helped Buffy to stand as well, then brought his hand to her cheek and brushed away the last teardrops clinging to her lashes. "We're a right pair, aren't we?" he said, smiling wryly. "I don't know."

A noise behind them drew their attention. Everything around them was dissolving into blankness, except for four figures. Tara, Willow, Dawn and Xander turned and began to stumble towards them. Buffy straightened, and reached unconsciously for Spike's hand. Whatever happened next, they would be dealing with it together.

Dreamwalking

"Is this the start of some new nightmare?" Buffy asked as they watched the four figures of her friends draw nearer.

"This isn't how the others began," Spike replied. "And it's no dream of mine, unless we suddenly appear in Harris's basement again." He chuckled. "Now that would be a nightmare."

"Especially if we had to see you wear a Hawaiian shirt again," Buffy added. "I don't think any of us would survive that."

Just then, Dawn broke away from the others and ran forward to embrace her sister. "Buffy!" she cried, "We've been so worried about you. Are you okay?"

Buffy returned the embrace hesitantly at first. "Dawn," she said slowly, "Is it really you? What are you doing here?"

"Of course it's me, silly," she replied. "It was all Xander's idea," she said, as the others came up to join them. "Tara had lost contact with you and we didn't know what to do. He turned up later that evening and when he found out, he kind of freaked."

"I did not freak out," Xander protested. "I seem to recall saying that we had to try something different, since Spike obviously hadn't managed to do the job." The two of them exchanged wary glances like fighters sizing each other up before a match.

"Don't even start," Buffy said with a sidelong glance at Spike, who subsided. "I was about ready to give up when William - Spike - found me," she said. "We changed the course of a few nightmares and kept hoping you would draw us out. I'm glad you're all here, but I'd feel a lot better if I knew where here was, and which way was home."

Tara nodded. "I tried to bring you out, but there was something resisting my spell. It's probably because you had started fighting back in the dreams. Our only choice seemed to be to come after you and help from the inside."

"So where was this nightmare?" asked Willow, looking around at what little remained of the dream environment. "Anywhere we know?"

"It was where Glory was trying to open the door between dimensions," Buffy admitted. Only scattered rubble gave any evidence of the former presence of Glory's helltower, but Dawn, Xander and Willow looked distressed. Since Tara had only been returned to herself near the end of the battle, she was able to face the news with somewhat more equanimity.

"But that's awful," Willow said. "That you'd have to go through that again."

"It must have been terrible for you, Buffy," Dawn chimed in.

Buffy traded looks with Spike. Somehow it seemed entirely too intimate a piece of information to tell them that it had actually been his nightmare. She simply nodded her acknowledgement. Spike said nothing.

"So what's the plan now?" Buffy asked Tara, who had been examining their environment with interest. The sky was a uniform cloudy grey, and what looked like thick walls of fog surrounded the empty lot. "It doesn't seem as though another nightmare is going to start any time soon. Unless you're afraid of rainy days," she added. She went on to fill in the others about the signs she and Spike had observed when the dream shifts occurred.

Without warning, a light mist of warm rain began to fall, and they all looked at each other, spooked. They ducked for cover from the rain in the shelter of a crazily tilted wall.

"Okay, everyone with a major wiggins," Xander said, raising his hand. One by one, the rest of the Scoobies followed suit.

"I wish we had a doorway to take us home," declared Willow, looking around expectantly. Nothing happened.

"How about a chocolate milkshake?" Dawn added. Still nothing changed. The rain began to come down more heavily.

"I'm sure it was just a coincidence," Buffy said. "It already looked like it was going to rain. It's not like I said anything about thunder and lightning-" Her words were cut off suddenly as a bright flash dazzled their eyes. A loud crash rent the air an instant later. Everyone turned and looked at her, wide-eyed.

"Say it again," Dawn urged. Buffy complied, and the effect was the same. Though everyone else tried repeatedly, their words seemed to have no influence on their environment.

"Not that I'd wish for a sunny day, love," Spike said at length, after everyone had marvelled at how Buffy could control the weather in the dream world. "But do you suppose you might . . ." He held out one hand, indicating the oppressive rainfall.

"Oh, right. 'It stopped raining'," she said. It didn't. Buffy looked at Spike and only shrugged.

"Well, it took a while to start," he replied supportively. Yet perhaps not surprisingly, within five minutes the rain had diminished and vanished, leaving the 'sky' as featureless as it had been when the others had arrived.

"Lucid dreaming," said Willow suddenly. "You know - when you're dreaming but almost awake and you can control what happens in your dreams."

"So I could just dream us a way out of here?" Buffy asked. "'The portal to take us all home is behind that fallen section of wall'," she declared, and then went to move the boards aside. There was nothing there but some scattered trash and pale, wizened grass that hadn't seen sunlight in days.

"Maybe you need to start with something smaller," Tara suggested. "Rain, thunder and lightning weren't all that unusual, given the way the sky looked when we got here. A portal appearing instantly might be too big a change for the rules of the dream."

"Smaller. Right," Buffy acknowledged. She looked around the empty lot and gathered her thoughts. A tingling sense of power enveloped her, and she found images spilling into her head. Before the tower had been built, this was just an empty lot that sometimes people would cut through as a shortcut to the shops on the other side. That's what the fat man had done, but he found it difficult walking on the uneven ground and had paused to rest - just over there. When he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his sweating face, he had accidentally scattered a few coins as well, but hadn't noticed. They had lain beneath some scattered stones all this time. One of them was a 1961 silver dollar that he was going to give to his niece for her birthday, since she was interested in collecting coins . . .

Buffy bent and moved some rocks aside, brushing loose dirt out of the depressions they had left. Her eye caught the liquid gleam of silver, and her hand shook as she reached out to pick up a heavy coin. Only a few spots of tarnish marred its surface, and she read the date with disbelief. It was the silver dollar she had seen moments before in her mind. She turned back to the others and held it up triumphantly.

Xander wasn't convinced. "That could have been there all along," he argued.

"Then how did Buffy know it was there?" Spike countered. "She made it appear where she wanted it to."

"Maybe that's the secret," said Tara. "The changes have to be something that could have been possible all along."

"That means we won't be able to create a gateway home by wishing for one," Willow pointed out. "If it has to be something possible, then only magic is going to create it."

"And we have no supplies," Tara finished unhappily. "The only sign of magic is our amulets that represent our consciousness against the dreams." The Scoobies looked at each other despondently. Buffy's success in changing the dream didn't seem so promising any more.

Spike's laughter shocked them all out of their introspection. "I swear it must be only dumb luck that let you beat me so many times," he said unsympathetically. "There's a shop full of magic supplies only half a dozen blocks from here in the real Sunnyhell, and all we have to do is have Buffy imagine our way there."

They looked at each other sheepishly, embarrassed that the idea hadn't occurred to them first. "If anyone tries to tell me I said this, I'll deny it ever happened," said Xander. "But Spike is right. We have to head for the Magic Box."

With Buffy and Spike leading the way, the group set out on the deserted streets of dream-Sunnydale. Every now and then Buffy would pause and consult her memory of the layout of the streets, but for the most part they kept a steady pace. It was Xander who first pointed out a disturbing trend when they were only two blocks from the store.

"These buildings are empty," he said, after peering into a number of darkened doorways. "I mean literally - there's nothing on the inside. They're hollow shells, like on a movie set or something."

Buffy frowned. "I've never been in them," she replied. "So I guess I can't just make up what's inside."

"You've been inside the Magic Box many times," Tara pointed out reassuringly. "You'll be able to recreate the inside of it as well as the outside."

"It's like that really old Star Trek episode I saw on the Sci-Fi channel last week," Xander commented. "You know, the one where they were at the OK Corral. The aliens took Kirk's memories about the old west, but he'd only read about it - so all the buildings only had front walls and hardly any details. And when Chekov got killed, he wasn't really killed but went back to the Enterprise."

Xander looked toward Spike as though the mere presence of a Y-chromosome should somehow guarantee he'd understand. The vampire lifted one dark brow laconically. "Don't get cable back at the crypt," he observed. "And besides, I don't speak geek."

"So what you're saying is the only way to get out of here is to get killed?" Dawn asked nervously.

"Let's try it first on Harris, then," Spike suggested.

"Very funny," he replied, obviously thinking it was nothing but.

"Ooh, I know that one," Willow interjected. "That's 'Spectre of the Gun' where they're kidnapped by the Melkotians to be tested to see if they're worthy of being contacted." Xander looked vindicated, but the others were just puzzled. "Chekov didn't die because he was too interested in this girl to pay attention to the things around him. Spock had to hypnotize the others so they would realize it wasn't real and the bullets couldn't hurt them."

"Guys, this isn't helping," Tara chided them all gently. "We have to play by the rules of this dream world in order to find a way out. I'm sure Buffy can do it."

"I wish I were sure," Buffy said gloomily. "The more I think about it, the less I can remember. What's on the shelves nearest the door, for example?" she asked. "Is it the scented candles, or are those by the cash register?" She sat despondently on a nearby bus stop bench. The others gathered around, not knowing what to say.

"All this nattering's given me an idea," said Spike, moving to one knee in front of Buffy. "Will you lend me that coin you found, pet?"

Buffy dug the silver dollar out of her pocket and handed it to him. He stripped the rings from his left hand and thrust them into his jeans pocket. Holding the coin in one hand, he leaned forward with his other hand on Buffy's thigh and looked up at her. "Do you trust me?"

She drew her lower lip between her teeth and frowned uncertainly, but finally nodded. Spike held his left hand out level between them and slowly let the silver dollar walk across the back of his knuckles. The coin winked light as it flipped smoothly across his hand. He captured it as it looked about ready to fall, and then drew it under his fingers to start the motion again on the other side of his hand. Buffy watched the repetitive motion intently. Spike waited until he felt her muscles relax. No one spoke while they waited to see what he had in mind.

"You're headed into the Magic Box, love," he said, his voice pitched low for her ears alone. "Tell me what it's like there."

"When you open the door, it rings that bell. I hate that damn bell," she said suddenly, perhaps recalling several abortive attempts at working in the store.

"Mmm-hmm," he murmured encouragingly. "Tell me more about the store."

"There's the smell," she volunteered. "Candles and herbs and other mystical stuff all mixed together - kind of 'mustical'," she giggled abruptly.

Spike wondered at the giddy schoolgirl side she had unexpectedly exposed. This from a woman he had always found to be painfully intense in the emotions she was willing to reveal to him. "What do you see on the shelves?" he prompted again, trying to maintain his own focus.

Little by little he coaxed a description of the store out of her. Details she hadn't even realized she knew spilled from her lips. She talked continually for some time, until her voice grew hoarse. Once she began to repeat herself Spike brought the coin to a halt, stretching out his cramped fingers. He lifted his other hand to her chin and tipped her chin up until her eyes met his. "You can stop, love. Think you can get us into the shop now?"

Buffy nodded mutely, stunned. From where she had taken a seat on the sidewalk, Dawn asked the question that was on everyone's minds. "Wow, Spike - where did you learn how to do that? That was awesome!"

He levered himself to his feet, rubbing his palm firmly with his opposite thumb. "You live a hundred years or so, you get bored," he said. "Dru always was fond of parlour tricks," he added softly, when Buffy looked up at him.

The group resumed their trek through the dream streets. Buffy was so focussed on maintaining her clear vision of the Magic Box that she jumped, startled, when Spike reached for her hand. She looked self-consciously over her shoulder at her friends, and then allowed his fingers to close gently around hers as they walked. The rest of the trip was made in silence.

When they reached the shop door, Buffy paused to take a deep breath before pushing it open. The bell rang. It was as though they had stepped back into reality; the shop seemed identical in every respect to the one they knew and she sighed with relief.

"Way to go, Buffster!" Xander exclaimed, clapping her on the shoulder. "I knew you could do it." The others crowded around with their congratulations as well. She looked at Spike who was standing back from the press, and shaped 'thank you' with her lips. He only shrugged deprecatingly.

Before long, they settled into the routine they'd perfected over several years and dozens of crises, large and small. Willow and Tara quickly laid out the parameters of the type of spell they would be looking for and coordinated the collected information. Xander, Dawn and Buffy pored over the requisite texts, looking both for spells and for information that described their current predicament. The resulting pile of books was depressingly small.

Spike refused to get involved and instead sat on the couch, crossing his booted feet at the ankles and spreading his arms out across the back. "Point me at something I can kill," he said, "and I'll take care of it for you. Until that time, I'll be waiting right here." Cigarette after cigarette soon littered the floor beside him. When Dawn scolded him, he laughed. "It's not real, Bit. Wouldn't matter if I burned the place down." But he got up and found a dish to use as an ashtray.

Some time later, Buffy shoved her chair back from the table and stretched her arms out above her head. "This has got to be payback for all the homework I didn't do in school," she complained, twisting in the chair to ease her sore back.

Spike came up behind her and dug his fingers firmly into her shoulders, eliciting a pleased groan from her. "I know just the thing to take the kinks out, love," he suggested with a smile.

"What? No!" Buffy exclaimed, standing up so abruptly her chair tipped backwards behind her.

"I meant a quick bout in the training room," he explained. "But if you've got something else in mind . . ." His grin implied it probably hadn't been too far from his thoughts either.

She moved out of his reach and his smile vanished. "So, what then? I'm only welcome when there's no one around to find out?" He waved his hand, taking in the four at the table who were studiously ignoring this exchange. "They all know."

Spike advanced on her slowly. "There's got to be some give and take, love. I'm getting tired of being the one you come to when you get a craving, but who's shut out any time you're not interested. You told me you wanted to be with me, that you needed me; well, maybe I need you too sometimes. Or is it only that you're ashamed of being seen with me?"

Buffy looked sideways at the others and gave a quick jerk of her head. Tara and Willow took the hint and quickly left the table, heading for the upper level in search of more books. Xander was a little slower on the uptake, but Dawn dragged him away to the front of the store.

"I'm not ashamed," she insisted, when they had some privacy.

"Ah. So if I do this, then," he said, running his fingers down the closure of her blouse, plucking at the buttons. "It doesn't bother you at all."

She grabbed his hand before it could go any lower and involuntarily glanced around to see if anyone had noticed. "I just don't feel the same need to be an exhibitionist that you do," she admonished. "Some things should be kept private, is all. It doesn't mean I don't want you, or need you - because I do." Buffy moved into the circle of his arms. "I'm worried about what the Nightmare Master is up to," she said. "It's been too long without some kind of attack on us."

"All the more reason to take your mind off of things for a while," Spike persisted, tightening his hold.

"No," she said firmly. "This isn't the right time; even you have to see that. We have to be ready to fight at a moment's notice, and find a spell to get us out of here before then if we can. When we get home, then we can take all the time we need."

"When we get home then," he agreed, accepting her unspoken promise.

"Uh, guys?" Dawn's shaky voice drew their attention away from each other. "You need to come see this." Everyone joined her at the front window of the store. Instead of the streetscape of the dream-Sunnydale, they faced a dark landscape of forbidding hills. In the distance, a coal black tower thrust like an accusing finger into a lightning blasted sky.

"I think we might be out of time."