Part Six

Xander and Cordelia were somewhat more rumpled and decidedly more cheerful when they reappeared at the table.

"Okay!" Xander said, rubbing his hands together. "Have you guys finished eating Denny out of business yet?"

"We're ready to go, Xander," Willow said, grinning at him. "Got a hot date tonight?"

"Um," Xander glanced at Cordelia, who was studying her nails. "I was going to show Cordy some more constellations. We'll drop you guys off first at your homes."

Giles gathered his notebook and hardbound book together. "The school will be fine. My car's still in the lot."

Cordelia shot him a look. "Maybe you better let us drive you home. It's not like you can do anything with the power gone at the school anyway."

"No," Giles admitted as they went up front to pay the bill. "But I can patrol."

"Uh-uh," Xander said emphatically. "No way are you hunting vamps after that accident."

Giles handed the cashier two twenties and collected his change. They headed for the door.

"It's not like we've really seen anything for weeks," Willow argued. "We'll be fine."

"Oh great!" Xander threw up his hands. "And you're gonna drag Willow along for the fun of it?"

"Willow is going home," Giles said firmly.

"Willow is not going home," she replied with equal firmness. "I couldn't sleep if you ran Seventh Heaven reruns at me. It's a nice night out. Giles and I just have to walk off some of this excess energy."

Xander set his jaw.

Cordelia sighed. "Goodbye Pinson's Point. I suppose we couldn't convince you guys to run off some of that hyperness over at the Bronze?"

The moon was singing, but it was horribly off-key. And she didn't like cabaret music all that much anyway.

Drusilla wandered under the trees, counting them. There was one missing; she was sure of it. It must be about, stalking her. She'd move into the shadows, to wait for it to expose itself, but the singing was too distracting. No good, she'd have to think of something else.

She moved out onto a child's playground. Better -- she could see all the trees from here, before they could reach her. But the moonlight was strong here. She'd get burned standing out in it for long.

Drusilla sat on a swing and started to kick herself back and forth. She'd stalked a child in this playground not long ago -- or had that been before Prague? She couldn't remember now, except that Angel had been here. No Angel in Prague. He'd have never let the nasty people there take her away.

She leaned her head against the chain of the swing and considered. Angel. Acathla had eaten him. Spike had said that the Slayer had killed Angel, but Acathla spoke to Dru and she knew better. Acathla was being bad though. He wouldn't give Angel up. He'd drawn her here, with his promises. But now he wouldn't even talk to her.

Dru curled her legs up into the swing and clutched at the chain. She didn't like being alone. Her thoughts got so tangled up in her head that she lost track of where she was, who she was. And then the Voices and Visions would possess her. When the others were with her she knew where she was at. Spike. Angel. What had gone wrong?

"Angel," Drusilla moaned.

The moon sang, horribly.

She'd returned to the mansion and tried the ritual on her own, sliced open her wrist with a fingernail. But Acathla didn't want her blood. Of course. She wasn't worthy. But Angel was gone, swallowed up. How could she get him out when he was the only one with the key? Dru didn't like puzzles. She couldn't keep them straight in her head.

The trees moved around her, circling. Drusilla watched them warily. She needed them to stop. Spike could stop them. He'd talk to her in that oddly soft way of his and the world would stop moving around her so much. She'd be able to think then.

"Spike's been a bad boy," Dru muttered stubbornly. He had betrayed Angel and therefore had to be punished. She knew that the worst thing she could do to Spike was to abandon him. He hadn't known that she could drive; hadn't known that she'd been paying attention to how he did it. So she'd taken the car away from the Big City where he'd brought them, leaving him stranded there.

A smaller figure moved nearby among the trees, halted to nervously pay her homage. She'd brought several of the young ones over since her return. But they weren't of any use at all in stopping the World from spinning, were so fearful of her that they could hardly bear to meet her eyes. She needed support that they were too weak to give her. She needed her Men -- both of them.

But Angel was beyond her reach. Drusilla shut her eyes and tilted her face up to the moonlight, humming. Spike would be coming after her soon, but he wouldn't help. Would Angel help her? But she couldn't speak to him. Acathla stood in the way.

Drusilla opened her eyes. Angel had had to go for help last time too.

"Of course," she whispered to herself with a smile. The Watcher could help her. And the dark place that was the Slayer was nowhere about.

She slid off the swing and brushed the dust from her dress, ran her fingers through her dark hair. The trees were silent now, but restless. Once she had a companion again, the trees would return to their eternal stillness.

"I can't believe Giles bought your excuse that vampire hunting would be as good here as out in the cemetery," Xander said to Cordelia as that waited at the Bronze's bar.

"Well, duh, it's not like he hasn't complained before that this place was a breeding ground for vampires," Cordelia said in a bored tone. "Is that Mercedes Heinz? Gawd, what is she wearing? I know they'll let just anybody in, but can't they at least get a dress code?

"I'd never get in," Xander said.

"No hon." She tugged at his shirt. "You'd have to give in and start letting me dress you."

"Order?" said the man at the counter.

"Four cappuccinos --" Cordelia began.

"No!" Xander said. "Are you crazy? Willow on cappuccino and B.M.? We'd never pry her off the ceiling." He turned to the man at the counter. "What do you have that's nice and soothing? Preferably something that'll put 'em to sleep."

"Chamomile tea," the bartender offered.

"Great! Just Giles' speed. Two of them --"

"-- with milk," Cordelia added.

"-- and two cappuccinos for us."

"Except be sure to make mine --"

"Cinnamon, chocolate, non-fat, extra foam. Yeah, yeah," the bartender said.

Cordelia frowned at him as he turned to make the teas. "This town really needs another hot spot."

"Uh huh," Xander said, craning to keep an eye on their table where Giles and Willow sat fidgeting.

Cordelia bumped him. "I was expecting a 'hot' quip there, boyfriend."

"Huh?" He looked at her. "'Hot' quip. Consider it made. Where's Willow going?"

"She's just going to talk to Ricky Shruggs. Xander! Maybe we should scratch the cappuccino for you too."

"No, I'm going to need it if I'm going to get through tonight." Xander felt a jostle at his elbow. "Oh, order!"

Cordelia looked at him expectantly.

"Oh. Money!" Xander patted himself down and finally extracted a very wrinkled ten dollar bill from his shirt pocket.

She rolled her eyes, then turned to watch Willow as Xander collected the change. "Boy, Ricky sure doesn't look like he knows what's hit him. I don't think Willow even knows she's doing it. . . You think maybe Giles would teach me a really easy spell or two if I asked?"

"Oh great," Xander said as he picked up the tray. "Where's Oz, when we need a boyfriend to run interference? Chained up in the basement, that's where." He handed the tray to Cordelia. "And you don't need to learn any magic."

"Cranky much?" Cordelia promptly handed the tray back and maneuvered Xander towards the table. "Lighten up, Xander. You're not supposed to have high blood pressure until after you get the real high-paying job. Hey, Harmony! Are you here on leave from the sleep clinic or are you moonlighting as a really lame mannequin?"

Harmony looked around, blinking. "Huh. . .?" she said dazedly, then rallied, "Oh, it's Cordelia and her significant whatever."

"Look," Cordelia said as she pushed past her, "We'd just love to stay and chatter --"

"Who's that with Willow?" Harmony demanded.

"What? Ricky Shruggs? Second-string quarterback? Remember? Hello? Anything under that bad new perm of yours?"

Harmony glared at her. "I mean the older guy."

Cordelia looked. "Oh. Giles. You know -- that 'creepy' librarian from the school?"

"Oh yeah!" Harmony looked back at the table. "You guys have like this Library Club thing going, don't you? I was thinking of maybe reading some Great Books this summer."

"Last Great Book you read had Fabio on the cover, Harmony," Cordelia said sweetly. "Besides, the club's full. Go back to the flock and focus on something more your reading speed. Like maybe Captain Kangaroo."

Harmony whirled and stomped off.

Xander shuddered.

Cordelia looked at him. "What?"

"Harmony in the Scooby Gang. I had this vision of the Apocalypse."

"Is this the way you guys talked about me last year when I wasn't around?"

"Of course not!" Xander said, way too defensively.

"If Harmony did join the club," Cordelia continued thoughtfully, "that would mean two popular people in it. Hey, we might even become the 'in'-group!"

Xander glared at her.

"Joking," Cordelia said. "Boy, have you totally lost your sense of humor tonight or what."

"It's not lost, it's stunned," Xander said. "Hey! Hey, Giles! Where do you think you're going?" He hurriedly set down the tray and snagged onto the Watcher's tweed sleeve.

Giles looked at him irritably. "I'm going to check out a potential vampire," he said, "using Buffy's 'fashion faux pas' theory of vampire identification."

"No, you're going to sit down and drink your tea like a good little Watcher," Xander said. "Cordy and I will check out the Big Bad Fashion Disaster."

The look Giles nailed him with went a long ways towards making its way to the top of Xander's already impressive 'Wiggins List of 1998'. Oops, time to change tactics, Xander thought. "Cordy doesn't get to use her fashion expertise for the Powers of Good all that often, so give her a chance?" he pleaded. "Besides, Willow needs somebody to keep an eye out for her here." He darted a look at Willow, who was talking cheerfully under the very watchful eye of Ricky Shruggs. "Wait for me on this," he pleaded with Giles, and darted off towards Willow.

"What are you doing?" Cordelia demanded as he passed her.

"Rapidly going insane," Xander said. "Don't let Giles go anywhere."

He elbowed Bronzers aside to reach Willow. "Hey, Will! Knowledge Girl! We need your expertise. Giles wants to know why they call it a 'byte'!"

"Really?" Willow said incredulously.

"Hey dude," Ricky Shruggs said. "We were talking."

"Oh, sorry man," Xander said. "Didn't mean to interrupt, but hey! I've always wanted to ask why the team calls you 'The Croaker'."

"They do?!" Ricky asked. Then he smirked. "Well, yeah, and you don't wanna find out why, lame ass --"

Willow edged away from the quarterback.

"They were even going to change the mascot in honor of you, big guy," Xander said. "To an immense, green, bug-eyed --"

Willow whimpered and ran for the table.

"Hey!" Ricky said.

Xander clicked his tongue at the quarterback. "Way to go, Croaker!" and ducked back into the crowd before Ricky could respond.

"Okay!" Xander said to the table at large. "Cordy and I will now go check out your maybe vampires! You guys stay here in case we need back-up."

Both Giles and Willow gave him a strange look. No arguments from the bleachers however, which Xander hoped was a good thing. He seized Cordelia's elbow and steered her off.

"Do you really think we can handle the vampires on our own?" she said worriedly.

"What vampires?" Xander said. "We haven't seen vampires for weeks, why should tonight be any different? But let's humor Giles before he takes a mind to start doing Van Helsing impressions off in the cemetery again."

"All right, but if there aren't any vampires about, what are you getting your butt in such a knot about?"

Xander grabbed her purse and rummaged around in it. "Look, I can show you there's nothing to be worried about." He pulled out her compact and opened it to the mirror inside. "We'll dance around to the other side of them, then you can check your make-up and check them out at the same time."

"Check out my make-up on the dance floor?" Cordelia said, aghast.

Xander closed her fingers around the compact and pulled her into his arms. They started to dance.

"They keep getting weirder all the time. Buffy's being gone has made the weirdness factor go up ten times," Willow said. She'd shoved her tea to one side and sipped at Cordelia's cappuccino. "Mmmm, sweet!"

Giles was peering intently across the crowded room. He got up suddenly and started to make his way towards the door.

Willow finished off the cappuccino, then trailed Giles to the door. She caught up with him outside. "What's up?"

"Hmm?" Giles said. "Oh, probably nothing at all. Why don't you go back to the table and wait for Xander and Cordelia? I'm going to take a quick look around the building."

"Okay," Willow said. She pulled a stake from her purse and continued to follow him.

Giles paused and looked back at her. She offered him the stake. He slipped it into his pocket, then continued on in his prowl. Willow pulled a second stake and a cross from her purse and followed in his footsteps.

"All I'm saying," Cordelia was trying to explain to Xander as they made their way off the dance floor, "is that just because they give off a reflection doesn't mean that they're not demons. I mean, that's worse, isn't it? Because they could look in a mirror and see right away how totally last semester they look."

"Cordy," Xander said, "we can't go around staking everybody who's a candidate for Mr. Blackwell's list. Besides if everybody dressed well, who would you and your cronies make fun of? Oh great. Giles and Willow have flown the coop."

They both looked around the Bronze.

"Shouldn't have taken our eyes off of them," Cordelia concluded. "You think they went for a walk?"

"If we're lucky," Xander said. "Look around in here, see if you can spot either of them. I'm going to check outside. Maybe Giles got a headache and headed for the car."

"Xander." Cordelia grabbed his arm.

"What?" he said impatiently.

She reached into her purse, pulled out a cross and stake, and handed them to him. "I know it's been quiet, but --"

"Thanks." Xander quickly kissed her and made his way out to the door.

Part Seven

Cordelia made her way to the Girls' Room. Might as well check it out first, she thought. It was a logical place for Willow to have gone. Plus Cordelia hadn't retouched her makeup for several hours, and her glimpse of herself in the compact mirror earlier had told her that she was way overdue.

Harmony and the cabal were inside, dishing heavily. Their giggling hushed when Cordelia walked through the door. She wavered a bare moment before their expressionless stares, but thankfully managed to nip that hesitation in the butt before it showed.

"So Cordelia," Harmony said -- and Cordelia made note of who was doing all the talking in the group these days -- "are you going to Devon's Fourth of July party? We're going to do shopping for it next week."

In the middle of redoing her lipstick, Cordelia considered. What were they up to? Were they really willing to welcome her back into the fold, lame boyfriend and all? Harmony seemed to be relishing her newfound trendsetter status way too much to want to step aside.

"Gee, I don't know, Harmony," she hedged. "Devon and his crowd are really into that grungy come-as-the-back-of-your- closet thing."

"They're musicians. Guy musicians," Harmony said with a pout. "Whatever they wear is automatically cool."

"Okay, Harmony," Cordelia said as she carefully drew liner across her lower lid. "Let musicians wear whatever they want. And tomorrow we can let the gymnastics club off the hook, and the day after it's the debate team --"

"And who's going to be Sunnydale's fashion trendsetter then? Your honey?" Harmony and the Harmonettes giggled.

Cordelia quelled a frown as she decided how to handle this. It was a little late in the game to be refuting Xander, but she couldn't in good conscience come to his fashion defense either. And she wasn't about to lie and say that it didn't matter to her -- Damn him anyway, would it choke him to at least let her tell him what to wear to the Bronze?

Mercedes Heinz provided her with a respite by wandering in. Harmony and cabal watched the girl as she moved past them to the sinks.

"What diet pill is she on?" Aura snerked.

"Come on guys," Harmony decided. "This 'downward mobility' thing may be catching." As a group, they trooped out.

Cordelia scowled after them. She's been preoccupied the past few months, and it had lost her major points. She was definitely going to have to do something fast about this situation. And what was the trip with Mercedes anyway? The girl was standing over the sink, the water running, staring at the mirror in front of her.

"Hey, Mercedes," Cordelia tried, "the outfit isn't that bad, well it wouldn't be if you'd color coordinated it a bit better. And your hair just needs a little work, and okay the makeup needs a lot --"

The girl smiled at her. "Thanks, Cordelia. Can you help me with it? I seem to be having trouble with mirrors tonight."

Cordelia looked at the mirrors over the sinks and took a step away. "Silly mirrors," she laughed. "Guess these are broken. I'd better let the manager know."

Mercedes pouted. "I mean, how can I tell if my lipstick's on straight?" She pulled a lipstick from her purse. "Would you do my lipstick, Cordelia?"

"Oh, I don't know, Mercedes," Cordelia said nervously. "Your lips -- and teeth -- are such personal things, don't you think? Tell you what! Wait right here and I'll go get a mirror that works."

"Can you?" Mercedes grinned, apparently unaware that her fangs were showing. "Gee thanks, Cordelia! I don't know why people keep saying you're such a --"

Cordelia was out the door before she had a chance to hear the end of that. Not that she couldn't fill in the blanks as well as the next bitch.

"I had to go playing 'Stand By Your Man' and give Xander my vampire kit," she muttered to herself. She pulled out a note pad and eyebrow pencil from her purse and wrote 'Out of Order -- Really Gross Mess Inside' on a piece of paper, which she then fastened to the rest room door with a safety pin. She then hurried to the front door of the Bronze.

No sign of Xander, Giles, or Willow anywhere outside. "Hey!" she said to the female bouncer at the door. "Did you see this cute guy in this really ugly jacket come out recently?"

"Ugly polyester, ugly retro '60s, ugly tweed, ugly grunge, or ugly ugly?" the girl inquired, popping her gum.

"Oh," Cordelia said and considered. "Well, ugly ugly I think. And tell me where the ugly tweed went to as well."

"You'll do better if you concentrate on one guy at a time," the bouncer advised. "Ugly ugly went that-away --" she pointed to the right. "So did ugly tweed."

Cordelia looked at her. "How many cute guys come through here on any one night anyway?"

"Tonight?" the bouncer consulted a clipboard. "Lessee: eighteen '6's, eleven '7's, ten '8's, five '9's, one '9.5', and three '10's. One of those '10's should be an '11', except that I'm saving that for Antonio Banderas."

"Wow," Cordelia said. "And you actually get paid for this job?"

"I have to kick ass occasionally," the bouncer said. "'Course that can be fun too. You want me to put a word in for you with the manager?"

Cordelia actually envisioned it for half a second. Then she shook herself. "Uh, no thanks," she said. "I spend too much time here to work here. But thanks for the directions!" She hurried off before the bouncer could dangle more temptations in front of her.

Besides, she thought, when you get right down to it, I totally suck at kicking ass. She saw a figure standing near the corner of the building, halfway in the street light there. "Xander!" she called out, running to catch up.

He turned.

"Sorry," she said, halting in her run. "I thought you were somebody else in a really ugly jacket."

The boy smiled. "I can be him if you like."

"No, I really need to talk to him," she said. "Did anybody come around this way besides you?"

"Nope." The boy stepped towards her. "It's just the two of us, beautiful."

Oh, great, Cordelia thought irritably. I so do not have time for this. "Tell you what," she said. "I'm going to make it just the one of you. Why don't you practice your lame pickup lines, and maybe I'll be back."

He moved to block her way. "Gotta have somebody to practice my lines on."

"If it's feedback you're looking for then: You're pathetic. Get a life, some friends. Or at least a new wardrobe," she said impatiently, pushing past him.

"Think I'll settle for a nibble," he said, grabbing the side of her neck. Sharp talons dug into her flesh.

Cordelia shrieked, and jumped backwards hard into him. Unprepared for that reaction, he stumbled and let loose of her neck. She whirled, took a look at him shifting into game face, turned and ran.

She heard him snarling as he took out after her. Cordelia grabbed a trash can as she fled past it and shoved it to the ground. A horrible resounding crash testified to the success of that delaying tactic, but she knew that, barring other developments, it wasn't going to save her.

"Xander!" she screamed, even as she rounded the corner of the building.

A dark figure jumped out, latched an arm around her waist and yanked her off her feet into the shadows of the back alley. Cordelia tried to scream, but a hand clamped down over her mouth.

The vampire came running around the corner and immediately spotted them in the shadows. He stumbled back a step, snarling furiously.

Willow stepped out of the shadows towards him, brandishing a cross.

"Don't get too close, Willow," Giles said. He let loose of Cordelia and pushed her behind him. The vampire tore his gaze from Willow and the cross towards Cordelia.

Giles moved sideways behind Willow's back, stopping when he stood at center of the alley in the bare light that fell through from the street. The vampire turned, watching him.

Without looking at Giles, Willow moved in the opposite direction, her cross still held ready, until she stood directly in front of Cordelia. Everybody stood silently for a moment. Cordelia darted a nervous glance in Giles' direction. He waited at the alley center, hands in his pockets, unprotected except for an utterly contemptuous expression of casual amusement on his face.

Though obviously young, the vampire couldn't miss the self-assurance in that look. He took a step backwards, scowling.

"Go for it, fang face," Cordelia heard Willow mutter under her breath.

The vampire lunged towards the two young women. Cordelia screamed even as Willow shoved her back and swung the cross directly in front of them. The vampire whirled and leapt lightning fast at Giles, who was closing in behind him. Watcher and vampire tumbled into the gravel of the alley. The vampire slammed Giles' right arm against the ground, knocking away the wooden stake that Giles had been pulling from his pocket.

Willow darted forward, and swept her cross at the left side of the vampire's head. The vampire wrapped one hand tight around the Watcher's neck, pinning him hard against the ground, and twisted to strike out at her with his left arm. Willow back-pedalled until she was directly behind them out of line of sight, pulled a stake from behind her back and tossed it over the vampire's head towards Giles.

The Watcher twisted in the vampire's grip, snatching the stake before it hit the ground. Willow darted around to the right, circling the combatants. The vampire turned to watch her, totally missing the stake as Giles drove it up into the left side of his chest.

Dust exploded all over Giles and Willow, and sparkled faintly in the street light as it settled to the alley.

"Ow," Cordelia complained, as Giles dabbed at the scratches on her cheek and neck with a water-soaked handkerchief. "That stings!"

"The wounds don't seem to be very deep, but they're bleeding heavily," he said. "Are you sure he didn't bite you?"

"Believe me, I didn't give him time," Cordelia said. She accepted the handkerchief and held it pressed against the scratches. "Why am I always the one getting my face marked up? If it isn't loony invisible girls or loopy snakes, it's vampires. I bet he had dirty fingernails too."

"I can't find Mercedes anywhere," Xander said as he came back to the table. "She must have gotten tired of waiting for a mirror."

"Not good," Giles said. "We can't afford to let any of them run loose for any period of time."

Xander pulled the handkerchief from Cordelia's face and neck to look at the scratches. He looked grim. "Wish I'd had a chance at him."

"He was pretty wiry," Cordelia said. "Like maybe he was into gymnastics or something. Except that I didn't know him. But Mercedes was walking around the mall yesterday afternoon!"

"His name was Clark," Willow said. "He is -- was --one of my summer-school students."

"They were both made very recently then," Giles said.

"Which means there's still another one about town." Xander frowned. "Do you think Spike's back?"

"If he is, he's been keeping a low profile. Why start bringing teenagers over now?"

"Mercedes didn't even seem to know what had happened to her," Cordelia said.

"Odd." Giles considered, then shook his head. "We don't have enough information."

"No book consultage tonight," Xander reminded him. "Remember? You guys fried the school's power."

"We'll stop by the library to pick up a few things." Giles stood. "If there's a new vampire in town, we're going to need to contact Buffy more than ever."

Cordelia looked up at him. "You guys handled the one tonight."

"He was very young," Giles said dismissively.

"But --" Cordelia frowned. "Not to 'dis' your usual vamp fighting style or anything, Giles, but you guys were pretty impressive. I mean, if I ever got my cheerleading squad that coordinated, we'd take the state finals easy."

"It was pretty strange," Willow said suddenly, looking at Giles. "Like I knew what you were going to do before you'd done it."

Giles looked on the edge of argument, then reconsidered. "Interesting," he said finally. "We were co-casting for a brief period of time tonight. It's possible it put us in 'sync' with one another."

Willow tossed a spoon at his head, and he caught it without a blink. "Q.E.D.," she said. "Wow!"

Xander shuddered. "That is," he said, "very wiggy. Now wait, are you saying that you and Willow are psychically linked?"

"Not consciously," Giles replied, "and only until the residual effects of the casting wear off."

"Which will be how long?"

"Twelve, maybe twenty-four hours. Probably."

"Until you do the co-casting thing again."

Giles looked at him in annoyance. "We're not going to repeat that particular mistake."

"Xander, relax," Willow said. "I think it's kind of funky. It's not like we're really reading each other's thoughts. And you've got to admit that it came in handy tonight."

"All right, I admit it," Xander said as he helped Cordelia stand. "But I'm going to hold you guys to not doing that co-casting thing again."

Giles sighed. "Xander, I can't promise that. If Willow gets into trouble again, I have to be able to step in and help her out on the spell. If I watch without being able to intercede, then I'm of no real use to her."

"We'll be careful," Willow promised. "I don't want another scare like tonight." She picked up her purse, and as a group they moved towards the door.

"Not to be too blunt about it," Xander said, "but what use are you to Willow if you're so in sync that you've lost your own perspective?"

"Good one, Blunt Guy," Cordelia said approvingly.

"It's not going to happen again," Giles said with certainty. "And I'll thank you to stop trying to second-guess me on matters on which you've no study, training, or experience."

"Game, set, and match go to the Watcher," Cordelia remarked to Willow. "They keep this up, and I'm going to be Tact Guy around here."

"It's okay," Willow said cheerfully. "Giles knows what he's doing. And Xander will keep him on his toes."

Drusilla wandered onto the high school grounds. The air was scrambled here tonight; everything had a fuzzy pink halo about it. It was a peculiar feeling, all exciting and irritating and filled with tension. She thought at first that the flesh was creeping off her bones.

"Somebody's been dancing tonight," Dru sang to herself.

The entire campus was shrouded in a lovely darkness that was only marred by that aggravating moonlight. She moved around to the building that housed the library and forced the door.

The halls of the school were dark and silent of everything but the small life that rustled about the building. Her quarry wasn't here just now.

Drusilla halted in front of a glass case, then turned to peer inside. She smiled. "Oh, you have been wicked and sent into the corner," she said, shaking a finger at one of the small statues inside. "Shall I save a piece of him for you? Would you like that? Or I could take you with us. Miss Edith would like someone to play at Charades with." She held the doll up to the case and pressed it against the glass.

She cocked her head, listening to the restless shiftings of the air about her. "Shhh," she said, pulling Miss Edith close to her chest. "We must call upon our host first. He's not here to provide us with tea and crumpets, but we shall present our card and wait."

Drusilla moved down the hall to the library doors. They moved easily to her touch; somebody had forgotten to lock up. She glided into the large room and stood for a moment at center, caught up like a moth in the whirl of moonlight and magic. "Oh. That's exquisitely hurtful," she whispered. "Musn't forget though." She fluttered out of it. "We have a table to lay."

She moved out of the moonlight to the small room behind the front desk, where she sensed his presence the strongest. She ran a hand over the spines of the books that were shelved there, curiously studied the odd objects on his desk and the pictures on the walls, rubbed a finger around the rim of a teacup that had been set on the desk top, idly flipped on the dead radio.

Miss Edith settled herself down on the desk top by the cup to wait, while Drusilla opened various drawers to the desk. One of the drawers was locked and warded. She drew her hand back from it quickly, then lost interest.

She wandered out of the office again and climbed the stairs to the upper tier of the library. "Such noise," she admonished the books there -- they all clattered incessantly. But it was an ordered kind of clatter, almost reassuring in its own way. Dru wandered curiously through the aisles, reading some of the titles. Could the Watcher really keep all of this noise straight? Amazingly clever. Acathla should be no match for him.

Drusilla stopped suddenly, her head cocked. Someone was coming. She moved behind a bookcase and leaned against it, watching through the gap between books and shelf.

The library doors opened and he stepped inside, pausing briefly to switch on an electric torch.

One of the young ones was with him. Her auburn hair gleamed faintly in the moonlight. She held a torch of her own. "Can I get anything?" she was asking.

The Watcher shined the torch at a piece of paper he held in his hand. "There's a vial of quicksilver in the third drawer down of the file cabinet in my office. I'll get the books I need. The rest of it can wait."

He moved quickly up the stairs and to the stacks. Drusilla walked quietly behind him along her side of the shelves. He looked up suddenly and she froze. "There you are," he murmured and reached up to pull a book from its shelf. He aimed the torch down at the pages as he braced the book against a shelf to leaf through it. He was so absorbed in its contents that she was able to creep back to the end of the shelves, where she could see him unimpeded by the clatter of books between them.

"Giles?"

"One moment," he called out, still leafing through the book.

Drusilla stepped around the bookcase, close enough almost to touch his shoulder. She reached out, then froze, her eyes fluttering shut. He reeked of moonlight and magic and destruction. She drew back to regard him quizzically. She hadn't sensed this about him the last time that she'd seen him.

Somebody new and annoying was coming up the stairs. "Giles, you'd so better not be doing research up here now."

Drusilla moved back around into the shadows, watching in fascination. This young one also had the faintest smell of destruction about her, as well as the fresher scent of living blood.

The Watcher shut the book and moved back along the shelves, past where Drusilla stood quietly in the dark. She was rocked back on her heels by the 'glamour' he was projecting. She thrust a steadying hand behind her, jostling the bookcase ever so slightly.

"Can we go now?" the young annoying one said from the head of the stairs. "This whole library is always wiggy enough with the lights on and wiggier with them off, but tonight it's going beyond wiggy to seriously creep-me-out."

"That's the Hellmouth you're sensing, not the library," he said, and handed her the book. "We may have stirred it up somewhat more than usual with our activities tonight."

The girl blew a thin layer of dust off the book. "Well, all this dirt doesn't help." She trailed the Watcher further down the stacks at the other end, book held gingerly away from her body. Drusilla cautiously followed them. "What are we looking for?"

He flashed the torch across the stacks. "A volume, I had somewhere here, on the alchemical effects of the lunar cycles. Ah --!" He pulled a book from the shelf and opened it.

"Alchemy -- isn't that like turning cheap stuff into gold?" The girl leaned close to look over the pages as he turned them.

"One of their interests," the Watcher murmured. "Did Willow find the quicksilver?"

"I think so." The young woman stopped him turning the pages. "Euww, what's that supposed to be?"

"Homunculus." He shut the book and put it on top of the first in her hands. "Don't ask if you don't want to know."

"Euww," she said. "Never mind, then." They started down the stairs. ". . . Is it really disgusting?"

"Very."

At the bottom of the stairs, he turned to flash the torch light back up towards the upper stacks. Drusilla, who'd been quietly following them, pulled quickly back.

"What is it?"

"Mice, probably. I've been seeing them about. I'm going to have to ask Mr. Riley to arrange for an exterminator."

"Got the quicksilver, Giles." The red-headed girl emerged from the shadows of his office. "Is this is all we'll need for tomorrow night?"

"That's the only addition we need to the basic setup."

"What's tomorrow? What are you guys planning now?" a second annoying young one interceded. Drusilla knew this boy: she'd harbored a brief inexplicable crush on him one night. She scowled at the memory.

"It's essentially the same scrying spell we did tonight. Without Willow's more radical adaptation, of course," the Watcher was saying as the group moved towards the doors. "But we need to set up at the physical and temporal high tide."

"Beach party!" the little redhead exclaimed. "Where are we going?"

"Now wait," the younger man protested. "You blew out the entire power supply for the school and K.O.'ed Giles with the spell you tried tonight. . ."

"Pinson's Point is at high tide mark," the annoying brunette remarked. "We could do a double star-gazing, spell- casting and picnic thing."

"Giles," the younger man said. "If I apologize for every crack I ever made about your being 'Caution Man', and for all the Watcher limericks and Librarian jokes --"

"Watcher limericks?" the Watcher said.

"You never heard any of Xander's Watcher limericks?" the redhead said. "They're really funny."

"We're forgetting them now, okay? As of this moment, I never made them up. In fact, I really look up to Caution Man. Now will you and Willow please get a clue, and cut this out?"

"It's okay, Xander," the girl said as she led the way out the doors. "You can be Caution Man for a while. We'll even let you drive us to the Point tomorrow."

Part Eight

At 9 AM the next morning, Willow pushed open the front doors to Sunnydale High School and sidled inside. Oz followed closely behind her. They stood by the doors looking at the small hubbub of summer school teachers that was gathered in the darkened hallway.

"Do you think they know?" Willow whispered fearfully.

"No," Oz reassured her. "Your secret identity as the Mad Short Circuiter of Sunnydale High is safe. Just play it cool."

Willow nodded and moved towards the faculty cluster, trying to look nonchalant.

"Too cool, Willow," Oz prompted her just before they joined the group. "You've got to look perplexed too."

Willow nodded. "Perplexed. Okay." She added a perplexed look to the nonchalant look. "How's this?"

Oz sighed. "Tell you what, forget that and think about thumb tacks for a minute."

"Thumb tacks?"

"Trust me on this."

"Okay," Willow said. She looked pained. "Ouch."

Principal Snyder came storming out of his office. "All right, people," he snapped. "You're all being paid to teach class, so get on with it."

Ms. Miller, the only teacher on faculty who could face down Snyder's tirades without batting an eye, turned her imperious gaze down on the principal. "And just when," she said, "are we going to get the lights back?"

"They'll be back when they're back." Snyder glared at her. "In the meantime: each room is outfitted with devices called windows. I suggest you people make use of them."

Willow gulped. "What am I going to do, Oz?" she whispered. "I can't teach a computer class without computers."

"Don't worry," Oz told her. "We'll improvise."

Snyder nailed Willow with an icy glare. "Is there a problem, Ms Rosenberg?"

"Uh well, computers need --" She looked at him again. "No problem, sir."

"Then I suggest you stop fraternizing with the students and get on with your class." He stormed off down the hallway, disappearing towards the back of the school.

"Come on," Oz said. He took Willow's elbow and they walked off in Snyder's wake.

Joe Riley, veteran daytime custodian for the high school, stood in the doorway of his tiny office at the back of the building. He had a cigarette lit and a small smile on his face.

"Hey Joe. What's the news?" Oz asked.

"Oh, His Holiness is in a royal snit. The electricians are discovering one thing after another that got wiped out during the outage last night, and the emergency budget isn't going to begin to cover it," Joe said cheerfully. "Hello, Miss Rosenberg. How's your new career as one of Sunnydale High's distinguished faculty?"

"Really great!" Willow grinned at the custodian. "Except of course for no power. And the boss is not all that fun to work for."

Joe snorted and flicked his cigarette away. "Just remember one thing: Right now he needs you far more than you need him. Keep that in mind, and you can negotiate a pretty cushy truce between the two of you."

"Do you know when they'll get the power back on?" Oz said.

Joe shrugged. "Power's on now. Problem is, most of the lights are on the computerized timers. And the system is fried."

Willow perked up. "Can I use the individual outlets in my classroom then?"

"Breakers are fixed. But all the administrative computers are DOA. Your babies probably aren't any better off."

She whimpered.

"Do they know what happened?" Oz said.

"Ball lightning, I've been told." Joe snorted. "Either that or one big mother of a power surge."

"What'll I do?" Willow said. "Snyder expects me to teach class."

Joe thought a moment. "Just a minute," he said, and wandered back into his office. He scrutinized the shelf over the coat rack, then came back with a battered, coffee-stained book. "When I was a kid," he said, handing her the book, "I used to love reading period. Might be nice to go back to that tradition every now and then."

Willow looked at the title: Tiktok in Oz. "Even in a computer class?" she said doubtfully.

Joe shooed them out the door. "Especially in a computer class. Trust me, honey. It'll keep you all humble."

Cordelia sat on the bench next to the high school's front entrance, examining the scratches on her face in a compact mirror. She set the mirror down to retie the scarf around her neck, and then surveyed her image critically.

"Cordy, hey. How are you feeling?" Xander sat down close to her.

"Really not so good," Cordelia said. "Does this look like I'm trying to disguise the scratches to you, Xander?"

"The scarf covers up the ones on your neck," Xander said. "But --"

"Yeah, but the ones on my cheek are still visible, which only makes the fact that I'm hiding the ones on my neck obvious," she grumbled, and yanked the scarf off again. "You'd think I'd be really good at this by now."

Xander threw his arms around her and pulled her close.

"Hey," Cordelia said, without moving. "You're wrinkling my blouse."

He tightened his grip. "You don't mind when we're groping."

She hesitantly wrapped her arms around his back and patted him awkwardly. "It's okay, Xander. Really. It's a couple of scratches. No biggy. I'll accessorize."

"No," Xander said. "It's not okay. I mean, it's okay that you're okay -- except that you're not okay."

"Well that makes worlds of sense," she said.

He held her at arm's length to look at her. "I had a bad dream last night. I had to make sure --"

She thrust him away. "Xander, we've been attacked before. It's not like this is amateur hour for any of us anymore."

"But we always had Buffy here," Xander said. "We've never been the frontline before."

"We did all right last night, didn't we?"

"Just barely," Xander said. "We shouldn't have gotten split up like that."

"Xander, you were turning yourself inside out last night trying to keep everyone together. And it's not like we had advance warning that there were vampires about."

Xander shook his head. "We're not going to always have advanced warning. Maybe Willow and Giles have the right idea. It's insane to try to take on the sorts of things that the Hellmouth keeps chucking out without the Slayer."

"But you were so worried about Willow getting in over her head."

"Yes, but we're all getting in over our heads anyway," Xander said. "Maybe we need some help. Hellmouth kind of help."

"You've changed your mind about her doing the magic then?" She tied the scarf back around her neck.

"No. I still don't like Willow messing around with that stuff. But maybe she needs to learn some of it. Just a little, to keep us alive until Buffy gets back."

"You're going to have tell them you were wrong."

"Not wrong," Xander insisted. "But maybe my timing needs some work. Is all."

Cordelia smiled That Smile at him.

Xander gulped. "Uhm, you want to see if the lights are on in the utility closet yet?"

"Your timing's looking better already," she replied, and stood to take his arm.

Oz pushed open the doors to the library and stepped back to let Willow in. She paused a moment to steady the pile of books in her arms, then moved inside.

"Here," Oz hurried to grab off half the stack. "No toe squashage today."

"Thanks," she said. "But if I did squish my toes, would you massage them?"

"Every cute digit." He stepped over to deposit the books on the table. Giles was seated there, absorbed in still another old book.

Willow smiled at him and pulled a chair up to the table. Both she and Oz looked at the Watcher expectantly. He glanced up at them once, but immediately returned to the book.

He wasn't happy. Willow exchanged an uneasy look with Oz, then pulled a volume on meditation from her own stack and started to read by the natural light coming in through the library windows. Oz sorted through some books that were stacked at his end of the table, picked out a copy of Kafka's Metamorphosis, and settled in next to her.

Giles finally shut his book and removed his glasses to rub at his eyes. "I would like to read your notes from last night," he said, without looking at Willow.

"Sure!" she said anxiously, and pulled the notebook from the top of the book stack. Giles took it without a word and began to read it over. He flipped back to her notes from the previous night and reread them. She sensed that he wasn't getting any happier. "Giles -- is anything wrong?"

He slid the notebook that Xander had given him the previous night at her over the table top. Willow looked at him, wide-eyed. "Read it," he said curtly, before returning to her own notes.

Tentatively, still feeling that she was doing something she shouldn't be, despite the fact that he'd given her the notebook, Willow began to read over his notes from the night before. She admired his elegant, if somewhat wobbly right- handed penmanship for a moment, before turning to the notes themselves. It didn't take her long; there were only two pages.

She was smiling to herself as she finished, then looked up to find him watching her intently. "Did you mean that?" she asked.

He looked momentarily confused, then looked away, remembering now the one entry referring to her. "Apparently I did," he said. "Did I seem a trifle. . . giddy to you last night?"

"Don't you remember?"

He handed Willow her notebook back. "Yes, I do. Very clearly. I also remember that I took concise notes. But I read those notes now, and I have no idea where they came from."

Willow opened her own notebook, turned back to the first page, and read through her notes for the night before last. They read fine -- she could remember all of it -- but suddenly she blushed.

"Yes?" Giles didn't miss that.

"I -- uh," she swallowed and hurriedly shut the notebook. "Okay, maybe my inhibitions were down a bit that night." She looked up at him. "Hey, you said to write what I was feeling not what I was doing. Don't worry though, you didn't do anything with underwear. Though, there was that whole funny thing with that waitress."

Giles looked at her blankly for a moment. "Oz," he said. "Could you get the briefcase from the desk in my office."

Oz gave him a sympathetic look as he got up. "Sure."

"You didn't notice?" Willow said when her boyfriend had left. "You were flirting with her like crazy."

"No." He tossed his pen to the top of the table. "Apparently, I was too busy planning a preemptive strike against the current vampire population of Sunnydale."

"We were kind of doing that. But that's what we meant to be doing, isn't it?"

Giles shook his head. "I only intended to give you the support you needed to try a basic scrying spell for the purpose of locating Buffy."

"But that's what we're doing still, isn't it? Giles, you're worrying too much. We can handle this."

"Can we?" He stood and began to pace. "I agreed to this because of the circumstances, and because you seemed intent on doing the spell with or without me. I thought I could give you more responsible backup than Ethan ever gave me --"

"But you have," she insisted. "You've done everything possible to safeguard me."

"Perhaps, but good intentions aren't enough. I had the arrogance to think they would be. Willow, I'm calling a halt to this particular experiment right now."

"We can't stop," Willow said in dismay. "Giles, we were almost there last night. Okay, I was stupid. Again. But that was my fault. If I'd paid attention to you, the spell wouldn't have gotten messed up. I promise I won't try anything different without clearing it with you first."

Oz came back to the table carrying two items. Willow looked up at him. "Should we stop, Oz?"

"Hey," he said, "I'm here for you guys whatever you decide."

"Willow," Giles said, running a hand through his hair. "I can't safeguard you if my judgement is impaired --" He took a second look at the object Oz had set down on the table and looked at the young man questioningly.

"I figured either you've taken up a new hobby, or a very strange child has been in your office recently," Oz said. "I'm guessing now, the latter."

Willow picked up the doll and examined it. Its eyes had been poked out and it had been gagged. "Poor little girl," she said. "Whose is it, Giles?"

"I've never seen that before in my life," he said and took the doll from her. "What child would mutilate a doll like this?"

"It's obvious that you've never had sisters," Willow said. "The really wiggy thing is the gag." Something occurred to her. "You mentioned something once about Drusilla collecting dolls, didn't you? Back when you were first researching her."

"Yes. I did." His face was expressionless as he turned the doll over in his hands. Willow exchanged a worried look with Oz.

"Maybe it isn't hers," Oz suggested. "I mean, anybody could have come in here since last night."

"Sure!" Willow said. "It could have been one of the . . . electricians. . ." She bit her lip. ". . . or maybe some little girl came in . . . uhm when the school was locked? Hey, maybe Joe has a niece!"

Giles set the doll down, stood and made for the door. "Come on."

Willow and Oz hurried to catch up. "Where are we going?" Willow asked.

Giles looked thoroughly disgusted. "I need to talk with my Watcher."

"Cordy?"

"Mmmpf?"

"We're out of the closet with our 'thing', aren't we?"

Cordelia sighed in exasperation. "What more do you want from me, Xander?" she said. "I've defended you to Harmony and the gang, we've been seen together at the Bronze. I'm sorry, but I'm not going to wear your jacket."

"No, no! I mean, not that you wouldn't make even my jacket look cute. Why are we still smooching in the utility closet?"

Cordelia drew back and looked around her. "Well, I don't know. Why did you invite me in here?"

Xander thought about that. "Habit, I guess. Do you want to try smooching in the student lounge and see if the world explodes?"

Cordelia considered the concept, her nose scrunched up. "No offense Xander, but that seems weird. Actually, the thought of kissing you in public seems weird." She looked at his expression. "Well come on. Doesn't it sort of wig you out too?"

"Cordy, do you really want to think of the utility closet as 'our' place?"

"Don't be ridiculous," she said. "Just because we've come in here a couple of times to make out doesn't mean that it's 'our' place." She grabbed him.

They'd been smooching for a few minutes more, when there was a knock at the door.

They drew apart and stared at the door. It opened a crack. "Xander?" Willow's voice said. "We don't mean to interrupt anything. But Giles need to talk with you."

Xander cleared his throat. "Okay, Willow. We'll be with you in a second." He looked at Cordelia.

"Okay, okay," she said. "We'll try making out under the bleachers next time."

Willow, Giles, and Oz were standing in the hall outside, well away from the door. Xander glanced at Giles nervously. He'd given the Watcher a pretty hard time last night, and now he was going to have to swallow some of his words. Going by the grim look on the man's face, he wasn't going to make it any easier for Xander.

"Look, Giles," Xander said, "I know I was pretty harsh last night. . ." He glanced back at Cordelia with her scratched face. She grimaced at him and mouthed 'Go on.' "I mean, I said some things without thinking. But now that I have thought --"

"Good," said Giles. "You were right. We need to stop now."

Xander stared at him, then pulled his mouth shut. "Now wait a minute," he said. "I'm trying to say that you guys were right. You mean to say that with everything that happened last night, you're just going to pack it up?"

"I wish it were that easy," Giles said. "But we're going to have to cast at least one more spell, and Willow can't do it. Which leaves it up to me."

"Pinson's Point is a go then?" Cordelia said hopefully.

"So you do the spell tonight, we figure out where Buffy is, let her know what's going on, and she --" Oz frowned, "-- she does what?"

Giles sighed. "One thing at a time. We'll do the spell tonight, as Oz says. Willow will back me. You --" he looked at Xander, "are the designated Watcher."

Xander stared at him.

"You volunteered already, Xander," Willow prompted him gently.

"You did, Xander," Cordelia said.

"W-well, yes," Xander stuttered. "But that was a joke. I mean, it wasn't a joke, but I didn't mean -- I can't be a Watcher! What about my D plus grade average?!"

"Fortunately, Buffy doesn't have to work with you," Giles said. "I do." He turned and headed back towards the library.

Willow and Cordelia each grabbed one of Xander's arms and steered him along at Giles' heels.

"Do I have to wear tweed?" Xander whimpered.

"Only if you're British," Giles said. "But paisley ties are de rigueur for American Watchers, I believe."

"It's okay, Xander," Cordelia said. "We'll go shopping this afternoon." Xander whimpered again.

Part Nine

"Tell me again," Xander was complaining as he steered Cordelia's red BMW down the highway, "why we have to go down to the beach for this."

"It's all in this book," Willow said as she thumbed through the old journal. "This German doctor was doing some spell casting stuff and he tried using moon magic in conjunction with the scrying spell. If we do it this way, we can talk to Buffy as well as see her."

Xander glanced back at her. "How old is that book?"

"Dr. Müller was conducting his experiments back in the 1950's," Giles said without looking up from the paperback that he was still perusing, despite the fact that they were fast losing the twilight.

"This is Book of the Month Club compared to your usual stuff, am I right? I thought you guys weren't going to try anything new."

"It's been tested," Willow protested. "Well, once anyway."

"And how reliable was this Müller guy anyway?" Xander continued. "Where did you stumble across this stuff? Because I'm guessing it wasn't in the Black Magic section of Barnes and Noble."

"I was doing some research on another topic several months ago," Giles said, "and I rediscovered this volume in my collection. Dr. Müller's researches have been noted by several Watchers. His earlier work is reliable enough."

"As opposed to his later work?" Cordelia said. She was seated in the front seat with Xander, squinting through the pages of an issue of "Vogue".

"Yes, well we'll steer clear of that," Giles said.

Willow shut the journal and tucked it back into her bag. "I wish Oz could have come. I hope I left him with enough water."

"Hey, we could have always snapped a leash on him and brought a frisbee," Xander said. "What's a beach trip without a big frisbee-catching dog?"

"Ooh," said Willow. "And I could get him one of those bandanas."

"All I can say is that I'm glad I didn't get involved with him," said Cordelia. "If you ever get changed into a dog, Xander, it had better be something good. Like maybe a Russian Wolfhound."

"Xander's more the fox terrier type." Willow leaned over to make out what Giles was reading.

"Fox terrier with really bad taste in clothes," Cordelia said.

"Hey!" Xander said. "A little more respect for the Watcher here?"

"Don't hold your breath," Giles murmured.

"I let Cordy pick out the silk paisley tie. Is it my fault that I'm getting bad fashion reviews now?"

"I didn't tell you to wear it with a plaid flannel shirt," Cordelia retorted.

"It's going to be cool on the Point." Xander turned on the headlights. "What time is high tide anyway?"

"Not for awhile yet," Willow said. "Giles and I have to look around first for the best spell casting spot, so you and Cordelia can go have smoochies in the car."

Xander took the turn-off to Pinson's Point and pulled the car onto a narrow stretch of concrete. At least a dozen cars were there ahead of them. "You guys sure you want to do your magic here? Looks like we're going to have an audience."

"We'll hike on down the beach." Willow grabbed the bag of magical paraphernalia and climbed out of the car. "We should find some place out of the way."

"Not like anybody's going to complain about anything you guys are going to be doing," Cordelia made a face at a group of painted drummers who had already set up on the bit of beach at the end of the parking strip.

Xander got out of the car. "So what are we looking for?"

"Stretch of relatively isolated beach, preferably with water on three sides, and an unobstructed view of the moon," Giles said. "And no large artificial structures close by."

"I know a spot, but it's a ways down. And god knows how many loonies are out on the point tonight," said Cordelia as she hauled a picnic basket out of the car and handed it to Xander. "We'll go with you guys. Drums aren't my idea of romantic mood music."

"They get me all hot and bothered," Xander said.

"Xander, a 'Yanni Sings Christmas Polkas' album would get you hot and bothered."

"What are you carrying?" Xander demanded, struggling to keep a hold of the overloaded picnic basket.

"I've got my purse," she said in annoyance, throwing the tiny handbag over one shoulder. "Giles has the books -- as per usual -- and Willow has the spell casting stuff. Get with the picture, Xander. We're all doing our part."

Willow hung back to walk with Giles, allowing Xander and Cordelia to move ahead of them down the beach. "You've been kind of quiet," she said. "Ever since we found that doll in the library. What's wrong?"

He said nothing. Her hyper-awareness of his mental state had pretty much faded since last night, but she still knew that he was troubled.

"Giles, you can't be holding back stuff from us right now. You know you can't. We can help you with it."

He looked at her oddly, as if seeing something new in her for the first time. "I keep forgetting that you're no longer children," he said quietly.

"Don't you run away from us too," Willow insisted. She winced, realizing how harsh that sounded. "We can't afford to lose both you and Buffy."

"You have to be prepared for any eventuality," he said.

She stared at him, wide-eyed.

"Sorry. I don't want to alarm you unnecessarily." He sighed and looked out over the darkening ocean. "We need to see what we can do about moving Acathla."

"You said he could stay at the mansion for the time being."

"I did; there was no reason not to leave him there, since the lease had been paid for the year. But that was before Drusilla's return."

"But if Angel was the key, and Angel's gone now --"

"As far as I know now, there is no other way to open that gateway."

"But you're not sure?"

"I think that we need to move Acathla. However, we'll need help. And it might be awkward."

"Not really," she replied, cheered by the prospect of reassuring him. "Xander's mother's cousin runs a local moving company. Since we already know him, he won't ask a lot of embarrassing questions."

Giles nodded. "Good then. I'll provide you with the funds. Tomorrow you and Xander can make the arrangements."

"Maybe it would be better if you --"

He shook his head. "Come up with a new secure location and move Acathla there. I don't want to know where."

Willow studied her walking feet for a moment. "Why don't you want to know?" she asked.

He took off his glasses and cleaned them carefully. "That night," he said finally. "When I was a 'guest' at the mansion. . . Much of it is hazy in retrospect. I do know that Angelus had reached the limits of what little patience he had." Giles shrugged. "He didn't much appreciate being called a 'pillock', in any case."

Willow smiled then shivered. She let her hand drift to his.

Giles didn't avoid her touch, but he didn't return it either. "Some mention was made of chainsaws. Spike, however, intervened and suggested that Angelus try something else first."

"Spike?" Willow said, perplexed.

"I suppose I owe him my life," Giles admitted. "Although I think I could have held out if he hadn't intervened."

The thought turned her stomach. "But he did," she said hurriedly.

Giles nodded. "The 'something else' was Drusilla. She got into my head somehow -- it couldn't have been difficult for her, I was drifting in and out of consciousness by then -- and she discovered Jenny."

"No," Willow said, almost to herself.

"For a few minutes, she became Jenny. It was an obvious trick. I knew that it couldn't be her. But I believed in it anyway. And I told her what they needed to know."

"It wasn't your fault," she insisted, even while knowing that he'd never believe it.

"Drusilla's an empath, among other things," Giles said. "I think that for that short time, she was Jenny in her own mind. She's mad enough, she wouldn't think to question it."

"You think that she thinks she's Jenny?" Willow said incredulously.

"I think it's possible that the boundaries of her sanity are thin enough that she might have had trouble disassociating herself from Jenny then. And Jenny --" He swallowed. "She did love me."

Willow took a deep breath, not knowing how to comfort him. She had a sudden intense sense of how the feelings of loss, failure, and despair had been weighing on him these past few weeks. And yet he still had the strength to pull himself together to be there for her, to be her Watcher. She thought about Drusilla, watching him with Jenny's longing, and the previously unthinkable became an almost overwhelming fear.

"Or maybe I'm misreading her," Giles continued. "She may have simply returned to release her sire from Hell."

"She doesn't know that Angelus is Angel again," Willow said. "Maybe we should just let her try to bring him out."

"I suspect she's already been to the mansion, and failed. She may be seeking out help."

Willow moved closer to him. "You shouldn't be out after dark." They walked in silence, while she thought the situation over. "Could you help her bring Angel out?"

"Perhaps. I would have to consult several books that touch on Acathla's history. Books that I don't have in my collection. But recovering Angel would entail reopening the gateway, and I don't know if that could be done safely. Of course, Drusilla wouldn't care about the dangers."

"We'd better find out for sure then, what the dangers are."

He frowned and stared off at the darkening horizon. "This knowledge we're exploring is a two-edged sword. It can give us a great deal of power to use in our defense, but it as easily can be turned against us. I still don't know if it's worth the risk."

"We'll contact Buffy," Willow said confidently. "Once she knows we need her, she'll come back. And she can handle Drusilla. We can worry about the rest of it later."

"I'm just --" he paused a moment, then continued, "If anything happens to me, I want you to promise that you'll leave Sunnydale. The others too, but you especially." He took an index card from between the pages of one of his books and handed it to her. "The name of a man I know in England. If necessary, he can help."

She shoved the card into her sweater pocket and tightened her grip on his hand. "Nothing is going to happen, Giles," she said fiercely. And added an unvoiced, I won't let it.

They settled on an isolated rocky stretch of beach near the tip of the Point. The earlier wind had gentled to an almost stillness, and the light of the full moon was brilliant enough to read by. Xander and Cordelia sat together on a large rock, the picnic basket snugged between them like an odd stepchild. Using a piece of driftwood, Giles dug the outline of a circle in the sand, while Willow laid out the paraphernalia at the center.

"Should we set it all up right now?" she wondered as she worked.

Giles tossed her the vial of quicksilver. "Yes, but leave the vial capped until we're ready."

Willow set the vial on top of the mirror and got to her feet. She and Giles sat down alongside Cordelia and Xander on the rock. "Are you guys sure the water won't get up this high?"

"Oh, yeah," Cordelia said as she dug through the picnic basket. "Xander and I set our blanket down by the rocks over there last time. We sort of lost track of the time. My shoes were ruined."

Xander accepted a sandwich from her and devoured half of it in three bites. "Hey," he said between mouthfuls. "You guys didn't finish the circle."

"We won't until Giles is ready to do the spell," Willow said. "Once the circle is completed we shouldn't break it again until we're done."

Xander frowned. "I'll bite. What happens if you break the circle before you're done?"

"Nothing more than an aborted spell," Giles said as he took a sandwich from Willow. "Usually," he felt compelled to add. Xander stared at him hard. Damn, he thought. He couldn't very well start withholding information after drafting the boy into Watching over the spell casting. "It won't be a problem unless the interruption comes at a critical point of the casting. This spell has only two such points, and one is a collapsible flex point --"

"Giles, in English," Xander said.

"There's only one point in the casting where a breaking of the circle might be dangerous," Giles said. "Because this variation of the spell has only been tried once before, I don't know what effect an interruption might have. I can make an educated guess, but I can't say for certain."

"And the guess is?"

"Instability in the casting interface could cause a spatial discontinuity --" He looked at Xander and sighed. "It could open a gateway. The spell caster might get sucked through."

Willow was staring at him, looking appalled. "Giles, you didn't say any of this before we came out here."

He looked at her in exasperation. "Willow, I shouldn't have to explain it to you. You know the risks."

She opened her mouth, then shut it. "I do," she admitted with surprise. "How do I know? And how do you know I know?"

"You know the risks because you have an intuitive sense for how magic works," he explained with as much patience as he could muster. "But if you continue refusing to look at the dangers, then you're a menace. To yourself, to me, to Xander and Cordelia. Grow up, Willow. I can't shield you from dangers that you're willfully creating for yourself out of your own self-imposed ignorance."

She huddled on the rock, looking down at her hands that were clasped in her lap. Xander looked torn between comforting her and lighting into him for causing her this distress. To the young man's credit, he kept painfully silent.

"I'm sorry," Willow said, obviously struggling to keep her tears at bay. "And you're right." She looked up at him. "I don't want you to take the risk. I know the odds against something going wrong here aren't very high, but I don't want you to do it."

"Willow," he said gently, "I know it's easier to overlook the dangers when all you're risking is your own neck. But sometimes you have to step aside and let someone you care for assume that risk himself. Believe me, I know how difficult that is."

She nodded.

"And to be honest, I took more of a personal risk letting Xander drive us out here tonight."

"Your vote of confidence will go into my Fuzzy Feelings Scrapbook," said Xander.

Giles smiled. "The dangers of modern technology are at least as pervasive as the dangers of the black arts. We simply live with the first every day -- we tend to overlook them."

"So why the earlier riot act?" Xander gnawed nervously on a carrot stick.

"As the spell gets more complex, the dangers of it going out of control become decidedly more pronounced. As does the potential for damage."

"But this spell is one of the really simple ones," Willow hastened to add. "Kind of a telephone call of a spell."

"More like two tin cans and a string as spells go," Giles said. "To -- uh -- strain the technological analogies." He checked his watch. "And before it gets too much later -- give me your scarf, Cordelia."

She blinked at him, then unknotted the silk scarf from around her neck. "Okay. But I really don't think it'll go with that suit."

Giles took the scarf and laid it out over the top of the rock. He pulled a small mirror from his pocket and set it at the middle of the scarf. Willow watched in fascination.

"Um," said Xander. "I though we were going to wait until high tide?"

"Shh, Xander," Willow said. "I think I know what he'd doing."

"I don't," Xander insisted. "Com'on, Giles. Share."

"It's an illusion spell, isn't it?" Willow prompted.

"Yes," Giles said. "Be quiet for a minute, both of you."

Xander opened his mouth, but Willow touched his wrist. He shut up again and watched. Giles murmured several words of Latin over the mirror, then reached into Willow's bag.

"Should we be mixing spells tonight?" Willow said worriedly.

"This is as much of a parlour trick as an actual magic," Giles said, "and no, normally we shouldn't. But since both spells are mirroring type spells, and moon-driven, no there isn't a problem." He placed the gagged doll on top of the mirror and pulled the edges of the scarf in a loose knot over the two.

"Looks like voodoo to me," Xander said skeptically.

"The doll wasn't my idea. We work with what we have," Giles said. He murmured several more Latin phrases over the objects. "Cordelia, put your hand here."

Cordelia set her hand gingerly next to his.

"Don't say anything until I tell you." He spoke several more words of Latin, then pulled his hand away. "I want you to think for a minute and then say something that you would never normally say. Now."

She opened her mouth, then shut it again and thought. "I bought it off the rack," she said.

"Very good." Giles untied the knot, took away the mirror and the doll and handed the scarf back to her.

"That's it?" Xander said. "No whirling lights or smoking fingertips?"

"I felt this warm streak go up my arm," Cordelia said. "Did I do a spell? Wow!"

Willow smiled at her. "No, that's just the trigger you set. Put the scarf back on."

Cordelia tied the scarf tentatively. "So?"

"Now say the triggering phrase."

"Oh." Cordelia squinched up her nose. "Okay. 'I bought it off the rack.'"

"Yi!" Xander almost fell off the back of the rock. Even Willow, who'd known what to expect, recoiled against Giles. He steadied her.

"That worked rather better than I'd hoped," Giles said somewhat smugly.

"What, what?" Drusilla\Cordelia said, aghast at their reactions.

"Okay," Xander said. "Great party trick, Giles. Now reverse the spell and turn her back."

Willow sat up straight again, grinning at him. "We don't have to, Xander. It's an illusion."

Xander looked at Drusilla\Cordelia again and blinked, and suddenly she was just Cordy again.

"As I said: a parlour trick," Giles said. "It doesn't take much to break the illusion. Just a moment of doubt."

"And that proves that the doll does belong to Drusilla," Willow said.

"You made me look like Drusilla?" Cordelia pulled her compact from her purse and spoke the trigger again. "Wow," she said again, peering intently at the new image before changing back.

"Cordelia, this is meant for defensive purposes only. If you encounter another vampire, it should hopefully confuse him so you can get safely away. Don't play around with it, or the spell will wear itself out."

"Okay. . ." she said. "Hey, can you do one where I look like myself, but without these scratches on my face?"

"You're going to do one for Willow now, right?" Xander asked. "And for the rest of us?"

"Can't," Willow said. "The doll can be used for only one spell at a time."

"This type of magic works best when the subject -- Cordelia -- bears some physical similarity to the source." Giles slipped the doll and the mirror back into the bag. He studied Cordelia for a moment. "If you could adopt Drusilla's style of dress, you'd reinforce the spell. It might give you a few extra seconds."

"No thanks." Cordelia grimaced. "The Goth look is so not me."

Willow's face lit up. "Maybe we could strengthen the spell anyway."

"No," Giles said as he helped himself to a bottle of mineral water from the basket. "It's really a very basic spell. Not much we could --"

"It's a mirroring type spell, right? What if we reinforce it with a clarifying spell?" She fumbled at her wrist and unfastened a bracelet. "Look, I've even got some silver!"

Giles stared at her. "Yes. . ." he said slowly.

"Cordelia! Give me your scarf!"

"Wait." Giles shook his head. "It's too simple."

"Why?" Xander said gleefully. "Because it's coming from Willow, and not one of your old dusty Watcher books?"

"Quiet," Giles growled at him, still thinking. "Silver, mirrors -- damn, what am I forgetting? Ah, secondary spells. It's the interference pattern, of course. You could reinforce the illusion spell in that fashion, quite powerfully, but you'd create a point of instability about which the entire spell would flux. Eventually the spell would fail and collapse. Permanently."

"Permanently?" Willow said weakly.

"Illusion and reality would cancel each other out. Cordelia would cease to have any corporeal existence on this plane. Of course, it might not necessarily happen right away, or at all."

Cordelia snatched her scarf back from Willow. "No offense, Willow, but maybe you'd better stick with Magic for Dummies."

"No, no," Giles said, thinking hard. "Actually, she may have an idea there. If we were to place something at that dead spot. . ." He pondered the possibilities.

"Like maybe a reflection of the illusion spell itself?" Willow said.

"Now there's a notion," he said. "Hmmm. Interesting. I've read something in my books not long ago about recursive spell casting --"

"Guys," Xander said, "I hate to interrupt this Magical Mystical Geekathon, but high tide is just about here."

Giles looked up in surprise and checked his watch. "Oh! Quite right. Let's get on with it then."

Part Ten

Willow followed Giles across the beach to the spell casting circle they'd laid out earlier. "What do I do?"

"Mostly observe," he said as he knelt to uncap the vial of quicksilver and pour it across the surface of the mirror. "I'll tell you if I need your help at any point. And uh -- use your discretion. If there's an implosion of any sort it's probably a safe call that I need your help."

"Implosion?" Xander said.

"Not to worry," Giles said. "If it happens it will be very localized. Willow, if you would close the circle now?"

She hesitated, looking at him anxiously.

"Willow," Xander said, "if you're not sure about this, maybe we should --"

"No." She drew a shaky breath. "I'm okay." She picked up the driftwood and completed the circle about Giles. "Just be careful."

He smiled at her, then carefully sat down on the damp ground. Willow settled in a cross-legged sit just outside the circle, facing him.

Giles lit the candles with a match. "Here we go then." He shut his eyes, sitting for a moment in silence. Willow shut her eyes too. A slight breeze drifted over them.

"Four quarters to where I Am. . ." he began.

Willow repeated the litany under her breath, watching him intently as he made the ritual sacrifices of the hairs from Buffy's brush. He moved through the ritual with an proficiency that she knew she'd never match. The brilliant light of the full moon infused his smallest gesture with significance. She leaned forward, intent on the casting.

A hand clasped her shoulder and pulled her back. "The circle, Willow," Xander said urgently.

She blinked up at him, then realized that she'd been on the brink of leaning into the spell casting circle. She grasped Xander's hand and straightened.

The mirror on the ground had taken on a dark liquid luminosity that shifted with pale uneasy shapes. Sweat beaded Giles' brow as he focused intently on the surface of the mirror. The images coalesced, then broke apart again. He frowned, then repeated the litany.

"Come on!" Willow whispered, glaring down at the mirror.

"What?" Xander craned forward, trying to get a glimpse of what the mirror was showing.

"I don't know, but the images aren't coming together," she said unhappily.

Giles held a hand over the mirror and the shifting patterns of light froze and held. He took several steadying breaths and wiped at his forehead with a handkerchief. "I don't think we're going to manage it tonight, Willow," he panted.

"What's wrong? You think maybe I --?"

He shook his head. "Buffy isn't receptive to contact right now. More than likely she's asleep."

"Oh, great," Xander said. "What a time for her to turn into a morning person."

Giles shook his head. "I can't force her awake. I can hold the spell open for a bit and hope she senses that I'm knocking on the door; but if she doesn't . . . Well, we've got one more night."

"Wait," Willow said. "You can't force her awake, but maybe you could connect with her through her dreams?"

Giles drew another long steadying breath. "Connecting with her subconscious is a dicier proposition than connecting with her on a conscious level. She's far more internally fixated in her sleep. I'd need a much greater degree of focus on her mind than I have now."

"But -- you're knocking on the door now, right?" she prompted. "If you could knock a little louder, maybe she'd hear."

He nodded, somewhat painfully. "Maybe. Connecting is not simply a matter of knocking louder, however. We need a symbolic interface, a key to her dreams. This spell doesn't allow for precision. And without precision, I have no way of finding an interface."

Willow thought furiously. "We could triangulate maybe? That would focus the spell better, wouldn't it?"

"Yes," he said, still straining to hold the spell open and to think. "But that would require a second circle --"

"Hold onto the connection!" she said excitedly, and grabbed the driftwood to trace out another circle in the sand tangent to the first. "I've got extra candles, and we can use Cordelia's mirror and the mineral water!"

Still intent on holding the connection open, Giles said nothing.

"Willow!" Xander grabbed her arm as she started to lay out a second casting circle. "You guys promised me you wouldn't try any new stuff."

"Xander, come on," she said impatiently. "We're just focusing the spell a bit better."

"And what happened to no moon casting for you tonight?" he insisted. "Giles, you said she couldn't do it this time of month!"

Willow glared at him rebelliously. "I won't be casting, just giving Giles a boost so he can complete the connection with Buffy. We're almost there, Xander."

"Willow," Giles said, his voice stressed, but underlaid with iron. "Stop it. He is the Watcher tonight. He has the final decision in this."

Xander looked at him in astonishment.

She shook him. "Xander, please. We can do this. All we need is a few minutes."

"Giles?" Xander said. "I don't know what to do."

"It's your decision," Giles reiterated. "But make it quickly. I can't hold this connection open indefinitely."

"But what's the right decision? What'll happen if the spell goes wrong?"

"Dimensional flux," Giles said tightly. "The Second Circle is a standard trick for focusing scrying spells, but it doesn't always work as predicted. And we'd be using it in an unusual capacity. Willow will only be acting as a secondary focus, so I can shield her if the spell goes out of control."

"It's okay, Xander," Willow insisted. "It'll work. I know it will."

"I'm fairly certain we can pull it off," Giles said.

Xander swallowed. "Do it then," he said.

Willow kissed him, then moved into her circle and closed it.

"Gods, Cordy. What if I'm wrong?" Xander said.

Cordelia stepped closer to him and took his arm.

Willow sat down and lit her candles with a match, cupping her hand to shelter the small spark from the breeze. "What do I do?"

"Here." He held out his right hand over the point where their circles intersected. "Put your left hand against mine."

She obeyed, relishing the heat of contact where their palms touched.

"This is important. You can't co-cast with me tonight without extra precautions that we don't have time to make, so you're going to reinforce instead. That means you musn't try anything independent of what I'm doing. My life could depend on it. Do you understand?"

She nodded.

"We're going to repeat the first four lines of the litany, after which I'll finish on my own. I'm not certain how powerful the boost is likely to be -- hopefully it'll be sufficient for us to find the means to connect with Buffy's subconscious mind."

Willow nodded again.

"All right then. Here we go." Giles shut his eyes for a moment, then opened them and launched into the litany. She parroted him, keeping her eyes on his. There was a light in his eyes that burned almost too painfully bright for her to meet. Still, she met his gaze and chanted, stopped four verses in and waited, her palm pressed tightly against his.

He spoke the final verse of the litany and fell silent, still looking into her eyes. The breeze ruffled the hair on his forehead. The ocean behind her rumbled distantly in her ears. Between them, the mirror continued its enigmatic shiftings. A spark of pure silver shot across the surface, pulsed once and faded. Willow blinked. And opened her mouth to speak.

The world began to drop away from them. The moonlit darkness morphed into an unbearably brilliant light.

Giles' eyes widened, and she felt his fingers curl, lacing through hers. She could sense his controlled panic as they dropped into sync once more. Willow sobbed deep down in her throat, but struggled to maintain her calm, to try to help channel the tremendous surge of magical power she felt building between them.

He hadn't been expecting anything close to the magnitude of this reinforcing energy, she realized. She sensed him faltering in dismay at what they'd created.

Giles, she tried to think to him, it's not different it's just bigger. We can control it.

He nodded curtly -- still too tightly focused on the casting to send her a coherent thought -- and struggled to gain a rein over the power they were sitting on. Sensing that he needed her as an anchor, Willow tried to bring herself as close to a meditative calm as she dared. The unbearably bright light began to cohere and flow around them, until it seemed as if they were sitting at the eye of a slow hurricane of luminescence that spun about the mirror's surface. The glass had turned a glittering black; the blackness seeming only a reflection now. . .

They looked as one up towards the top of the whirlwind of light. An expanse of profound darkness hovered at the apex. Abruptly vertical became horizontal, and the light began to rush towards the dark eye of the storm. They found themselves standing at the center of the tempest, hands still clasped. Willow leaned heavily onto Giles, fighting for equilibrium. He wrapped his free arm around her and rested the side of his head against hers.

The unbearable roaring eased, and the flood of light became a steady stream flowing towards the dark eye. Giles lifted his head to look at it. "Well," he said, his voice shaking, "that was certainly a new experience."

"What happened?" Willow whispered. "Did we get sucked in?"

"No, no," he reassured her. "We're in control of this gateway. We've managed to manifest a physical interface to the non-tangible dream reality. I was only aiming for a psychic connection."

"We're actually in Buffy's dreams?" Willow said.

"No. We're at a gateway to her subconscious mind. But physically -- yes we are here."

She stared with a fearful fascination at the darkness ahead. "Should we cancel the spell?"

"Probably," he said, looking ahead with the same fascination.

They looked at each other. "Don't let go of my hand," Giles cautioned her. "The gateway is our work. It will remain in place only as long as we continue to give it our combined energy."

Willow nodded and tightened her grip.

They walked through the tunnel of light towards the darkness. As they approached the gateway it grew larger, but still remained dim and amorphous. A bitter coldness wrapped around them, and Willow began to shiver. Giles moved to take off his jacket for her, then looked down at their joined hands and grimaced.

"Never mind," Willow said. "I can stand it." They halted before a wall of shimmering darkness. Pale shadows shifted uneasily beyond the interface. "What is it?"

"A physical link," Giles said with awe in his voice. "To Buffy's subconscious. If she were awake we wouldn't have been able to get this far."

"How do we reach in?"

"I don't know. She has to let us in. But we can't very well knock. . ."

Willow reached out her free hand and ran it up and down the interface to Buffy's dreams. The surface felt fuzzy like static and cold. "How physical is this? Is it real the same way were are?"

Giles quirked a smile at her. "And just how real are we?" The smile disappeared. "Any physicality here, besides ourselves, is a product of our casting." He stepped forward to gently touch the gateway. "She's in pain," he said.

Willow looked at him. "How can you tell?"

"I know," he said simply. "She's going to be hard to reach. She doesn't want us here."

"You're talking to her now?"

He stepped back. "There's a certain empathy between Watcher and Slayer. It's somewhat stronger here. But it's never more than vague at best. And it's not going to help us now, because she's rejecting it."

Willow heard a world of desolation in his voice. At that moment, she would have gladly slapped Buffy.

Giles reacted to her moment of anger with a defensive anger of his own. "It's not her fault. I can't communicate to her that we need her. She's been hurt."

"She can't hide forever," Willow said. She looked up at the gateway again. It had darkened, grown colder and more distant. "Buffy," she said despairingly. "Don't shut us out like this. At least let us in, talk to us."

The hazy images beyond the gate continued to shift in slow indecipherable patterns.

Is she dreaming? Willow thought.

Nightmares, Giles replied.

Willow put her hand up to the gateway. "Giles, what did the door to the mansion look like? Do you remember?"

His breath caught in his throat. "Yes," he said finally, and moved his broken hand to rest on the gateway next to hers.

The shimmering blackness dimmed, shrank and solidified, until it became a heavy metallic door, barred like the door to a prison cell. Willow pushed at the handle, but the door remained shut.

"Here," said Giles, and reached to push at the handle himself. "You weren't a part of this particular nightmare."

The door swung easily in under his touch.

The interior of the mansion was freezing cold, shadow- filled interspersed with harsh wall lights that filled only small patches of space along the central hallway. Willow drew instinctively closer to Giles, seeking out his warmth. She wondered if the real mansion had seemed this barren of life.

Giles stood very still next to her. She could feel his pulse racing. He'd expected to die here, she realized. This place wasn't foreign to his own nightmares. That was probably why they'd gotten in. She was beginning to regret this whole idea.

"It's all right, Willow. This is only Buffy's dream," he said softly. "I can cope." He looked around, then stepped off down the hallway. "The courtyard, I believe. Acathla."

Willow fell in step beside him. She tightened her grip on his hand, acutely aware of that lifelink between them.

An ominous rumble, at first just above the threshold of hearing, grew in volume as they walked. It finally gained a masculine voice; Willow could barely make out scraps of phases of Latin. A summoning, she thought with a shudder, Memories of herself performing the Rite of Restoration, of Oz and Cordelia by her bedside, of some frighteningly alien power seizing control of her mind.

"Oz," Willow whispered and shut her eyes, lost to a moment of fear and a need for reassurance and comfort.

"Jenny!"

She froze in confusion, then realized that the hand clutching hers was trying to pull away. "No!" Willow opened her eyes and tightened her grip. "Giles, hold onto my hand!"

He was looking frantically down a branch of the hall, on the verge of pulling away from her. "Jenny. She's here somewhere," he said. "We've got to get her out of here, before he --"

"Oh no," Willow whimpered. She grabbed his wrist with her other hand, bracing her heels to tug back on his arm. "Giles, this is supposed to be Buffy's nightmare." What had he said about Watcher/Slayer empathy? Why hadn't she made him explain that? "Giles, look at me. We're in this together. You've got to stay with me, or we're both going to get lost in here."

She finally managed to catch his eye, to pull him around. "Rupert! You've had nightmares about the mansion too, right?"

He nodded, his eyes locked on hers. He was regaining some sense of control, Willow sensed with relief. She persisted. "Maybe you guys have been sharing some of the same nightmares? Maybe that's how you knew exactly what had happened to Angel?"

"Christ," he whispered. "Willow, we have to abort the spell."

"Hold on to me," she insisted. "It's not my nightmare -- at least not this part of it. And you should have some power over it, since you and Buffy are sharing it."

"Power yes -- but I have no perspective," he said.

"Then I'll be Perspective Girl. But you're going to have to trust me to do it."

Giles nodded, and took a deep breath. "Go ahead."

"Acathla," Willow said. "We have to reach him. That's where Buffy will be. Fighting the demon. Angelus."

She led him down the hall, trying not to think about his dependence on her right now. If she let herself think, she'd freeze. They passed a curtained doorway; and he half-turned, as if compelled. Willow pulled him on past the doorway. He resisted for a moment, then followed her without a word.

She glanced at him and felt a chill at the blankness in his face. His hand under hers was icy cold. "Rupert, stay with me," Willow pleaded. "I can't leave here without you."

That shook him out of his. He nodded, looked up, and stopped.

Willow moved closer to him. They'd come to the end of the hallway and now stood in front of a massive set of double doors that stood slightly ajar. She glanced at her companion, then stepped forward to push at the doors with one hand. They refused to budge. "Guess it's still your nightmare," she said.

Giles added his weight to hers. The doors opened effortlessly before them.

Willow had never actually been to the mansion, had never seen Acathla, but she was almost overwhelmed by a sense of deja vu as she took in the scene before them.

The room and its occupants were strangely monotonal, as if they'd been caught in the grey amber of an old silent movie. Acathla stood at center with an eery look of expectancy, the sword torn from his chest. Angelus, a harsh sword-wielding figure in black, savagely beat the Slayer back. Only the Slayer, fighting with a grim fury, had any color to her, but it was a lurid color with no life in it.

"Buffy!" Willow screamed and tried to run forward, but Giles pulled her back.

"Don't distract her," he snapped.

"It's a dream," she said, still trying to pull him forward. "We've got to stop her before she destroys him this time. Or she'll just run away again."

He shook his head vehemently. "We can't change what's happened."

"We can. Please listen to me, not to the nightmare," she insisted.

The Dream Buffy beat Angelus to his knees before Acathla and lifted her sword to deliver the final blow.

"No, wait!" Willow cried out.

Buffy faltered and the sword dropped a few inches. Angel looked up at her with tears in his eyes. "We did it! We stopped her from killing him!" Willow said happily and looked up at Giles.

His face was expressionless, but his unmistakable grief confused her. She looked back at Buffy and Angel embracing. And saw Acathla behind them, and his mouth dropping open. "Oh, no," she whispered.

"It's playing itself out in her dreams as it happened that night," Giles said in a dead voice. "We can't stop it from repeating. Only she can do that."

"What can we do?" Willow said as Buffy and Angel kissed.

"Try to talk to her."

Buffy stepped back, lifted the sword, and rammed it into Angel's chest. Angel looked at her in devastated bewilderment and reached out his hand to her. The vortex of light that was emerging from Acathla wrapped around him and sucked him back into the demon.

And everything was still.

Buffy turned and walked blindly towards them. Tears streamed down her face.

"Buffy, it's all my fault," Willow said, weeping now too. "I'm sorry."

Buffy halted before them, an expression of anger and pain and confusion on her face. "You don't belong here," she said leadenly. "I don't want you here. Leave me alone." She looked at the floor, refusing to acknowledge their presence in this dream.

"Buffy," Giles said. "We can help."

"You can't," she said matter-of-factedly. "You'll only get hurt. You're better off without me --"

"Buffy, at least let us try," Willow insisted, reaching out for her.

"-- and I'm better off without you," Buffy continued as if she hadn't heard. She walked past Willow's outstretched hand towards the doors.

"Giles do something," Willow said desperately. "We can't just let her go after all we've done to get here."

"Buffy," he said quietly.

She stopped, but didn't turn around.

"I know that you're hurting badly. But you have a responsibility --"

"Yadda, yadda," she said bitterly. "No. I don't. Not any more. I can't be the Slayer any more. I know I'm failing you, and I'm sorry. That's just how it is."

"You have a responsibility to your friends and to the people who care for you," he continued. "Who've risked their lives, and are continuing to risk their lives for you. If you run away, you're failing them. If you can't come back as the Slayer, then come back for them. Come back for yourself, because it will destroy you if any of them die because you weren't here to prevent it."

"And where were all my 'friends' when I was ramming a sword through Angel's guts?" Giles and Buffy stared at each other for a moment. He reached out a hand to brush a tear from her cheek, but she shoved it aside and walked.

"Buffy. . ." Willow whispered, as the door swung shut with all the finality of Death.

Beside her, Giles collapsed.

"No!" Willow grabbed at his wrist as his hand pulled from hers, and she was jerked to the floor with him. Across the room, Acathla smiled and belched.

The dream world burned away in a firestorm of light. She threw her arm around Giles and pulled him close to her, shielding his limp body from the inferno.

Light blew the world apart. . .

"Willow! Willow!"

She shuddered and reached out for something, then wailed in loss.

"Gods, Willow, what's wrong?!" Strong arms wrapped around her shoulders.

She couldn't see: light filled her brain beyond capacity. "Giles! Giles!" she shrieked. "I lost him!"

"Shhh, it's okay." A softer arm wrapped around Willow's shoulder. "He's here."

"Damn. Damn. Damn," Xander was saying. "I shouldn't have told them to go ahead with this. Willow, what's wrong!?"

"I can't see!" She turned frantically in Cordelia's arms, and groped about with her hand. "Where's Giles?"

"Right here." Xander was trying to hold her down. She finally hit him and lunged forward until her fingers clasped around a cold hand.

"Wow, pretty impressive right cross," Cordelia said.

Willow pressed Giles' hand between hers. His fingers moved slightly. She let out a shuddering breath and laid down beside him, still clutching his hand.

"Willow?" Xander was back again, stroking the hair back from her face. The light was leaching away from her vision; she could make out the reassuring darkness of his hair.

Somewhere close by a voice boomed out.

"Latin," Willow said fearfully.

"Listen, whatever it was you guys were doing there, it stirred up some weather," Xander was saying. "Come on, Willow. Pull yourself together, or we're all going to get drenched. Cordy, where's that brandy?"

"Here --"

"It's not for you, com'on give it here."

"Well, you didn't tell me what to do with it."

"Here." A flask was pressed to her lips, and Willow summoned the strength to drink. She coughed violently, and the remainder of the light fell from her eyes. She began to shake.

"Now we're getting somewhere," Xander smiled at her, but he looked badly shaken. "Can you stand?"

"Give me a minute --" she said.

Xander moved on to Giles, who was finally beginning to stir. "Com'on, G-man. You don't want to leave this brandy for us to finish."

Thunder boomed almost directly overhead. Willow flinched from it, then looked up at the masses of black clouds that had accumulated overhead. Streaks of lightning played among them. "What happened?"

"Well," Cordelia said, "All I can say is that the Fourth of July is going to look like bargain basement stuff this year. That was some light show you guys summoned up. It spread clear out to the horizon."

"Light show?" Giles said weakly.

"Light show, as in The Mothership has Landed," Xander said. "Look, if you don't care about getting soaked, maybe you'd at least like to leave before the Men in Black head out here to see what's going on? Because as dense as Sunnydale is about stuff, I don't think that anybody is going to over-look that display."

Giles only looked around in confusion.

Willow stood on wobbly legs, using Xander for support. "Okay," she said. "I'm standing. I can be walking."

"Get the spell casting stuff and the books, Cordy." Xander said. "We'll have to leave the picnic basket here." He stepped back from Willow, watching her warily. She smiled at him encouragingly, and he turned to reach an arm under Giles. "Giles, work with me here. None of us is strong enough to carry you."

"Buffy could," he said, blearily.

"Buffy's not --"

"Grab my hand," Willow said hurriedly, reaching down to him. "All you need is a little steadying."

He took her hand and staggered to his feet, almost falling as a rumble of thunder overhead distracted him. Willow grabbed at his coat and threw an arm around him. "It's all right," she said. "We'll help."

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