"It must be here somewhere", Giles hissed through clenched teeth as he angrily turned the pages of a rather ancient tome. "But where?"

“Giles?”, asked a quiet voice from the stacks, causing the librarian Watcher to spin on his heel, stake in hand, ready to do battle. “Where is everyone?”

“Angel”, Giles said tonelessly, watching the vampire step into the scant light spilling from the lamp. “I had been wondering where you were.”

“I was at home—sleeping”, Angel admitted, “I need to see Buffy, I…I’ve been having…strange dreams.”

Giles frowned warily. “Dreams of your past? Could the First Evil…?”

“No”, Angel growled in a dismissive tone, “these are different. Disconnected. They’re too colorful, too bright. My dreams aren’t like that. And there’s a child—a boy… He’s not…right…but when I realize that something’s wrong…I look for Buffy and I can’t find her, all I can see is…” Angel trailed off as he stared at the table that dominated the room, his mind’s eye flashing a vision of the blond Slayer covered in her own blood, smiling at him as she beckoned him closer with empty eyes… Angel shook his head and clutched his head in frustration, trying to block out the image. “In my dreams she’s gone, Giles…” Angel looked up through teary eyes to see Giles staring at him in horror. “Giles, what is it?”

“Dear Lord”, the Watcher breathed, sagging bonelessly into a chair. “Of course…the dreams, the mark…” Giles shot into his office and returned a moment later with a slender volume covered in ancient runes, purposefully flipping forward until he came to a page dominated by a woodcut of a strange symbol embellished with clouded demon faces.

“Veritas is somno”, Giles quoted, laying the book on the table and gesturing for Angel to take a look. “It means ‘truth in a dream’. I knew that I had seen it before.”

“I don’t understand”, Angel said, his brow furrowing slightly as he studied the strangely familiar shape.

“True-dreaming, or, ah, dreaming about future events. Precognition. It’s a symptom, a condition, caused by a certain type of Astral demon—the Morphei, or Children of Morpheus”, Giles explained tersely. “These creatures feed from the anguish of nightmares and pain, causing their victims to experience their future death while in the dreaming state…”

“…And go into shock and die in the real world”, Angel finished somewhat hurriedly. “I’ve heard of them. But why would one of the Morphei attack me? I’m already dead.”

“It’s not after you”, Giles snarled impatiently. “The demon has Buffy—she’s currently ensconced at the hospital, effectively comatose.”

“Buffy?”, Angel half-whimpered, suddenly collapsing in on himself slightly and staring at Giles with pain-filled, searching eyes. “Is she…?”

“Alive for now”, Giles said curtly, turning away with narrowed eyes. “If you are unable to pull yourself together and be of assistance here, I suggest you retire to your den and allow me to contact you when this is over.”

“No”, Angel said quietly. “Why do you think this is what has Buffy? Did she tell you that she was dreaming her death?”

“No”, Giles admitted. “But Buffy has previously demonstrated the ability to enter other people’s dreams. The fact that you and I had similar dreams indicates that she is seeking help. At least, I think so.” Giles rubbed his eyes wearily. “I saw a child as well…a small boy. My son.”

Angel blinked rapidly. “Your…?”

“I have no children”, Rupert said stonily. “I was standing with the boy at Buffy’s grave, some years in the future. Whom did you see?”

Angel half-turned away with a look of shame that he carefully concealed behind a blank mask. “I saw a child from the past. One of my…victims. Before I…”

“I see”, Giles said, frowning at the slight crimp in his theory. “Are you sure that it was a vision from the past?”

“Absolutely certain.” Angel tried to give Giles a wry smile, failing miserably as he trembled from the pain of his memories. “I’ll never forget Wi…that child.” He looked away, avoiding the Watcher’s shrewd gaze. “He was… What I did to him…it was the worst thing I ever did as Angelus.” The vampire heaved an unneeded sigh and fixed his studiously blank eyes on the librarian. “So if your theory is correct, why is Buffy making us see little boys? Did anyone else dream about the future?”

Giles shook his head thoughtfully. “Not to my knowledge. Faith has had no prophetic dreams lately, and the other children had been trying to keep Buffy awake until she collapsed.”

“And Joyce?”

“I don’t know”, Giles fretted slightly. “But the real question is, who can have called this demon into the world? Morphei require all manner of binding spells to summon and control, as well as a living host to bind them in the physical plane…”

Angel nodded and traced the woodcut with his finger as he asked, “And who has that kind of power?”

“Soon, Miss Edith”, Drusilla sing-songed dreamily, spinning around the dark rooms of the mansion, “soon the Slayer will die, and everything will be lovely. Shhh, don’t speak...you’ll wake our friend!”

Dru smiled at the boy who slept on the altar, taking a moment to smooth the fabric of his pajamas. “You’ll make that wicked Slayer dead, and my Angel will come back to me...then we shall all punish bad Spike, and have cakes, and make the whole world burn so deliciously!”

{{“Hallucinating, Slayer? Must be the blood loss”, Mr. Trick rumbled, cupping her chin in one hand.

“M-my friends”, Buffy hissed through clenched teeth, wincing as a line of fire swept across her back--a knife, she thought, “they’ll...they’ll...”, she trailed off for a moment, then her eyes snapped back to his with disturbing clarity. “They’ll kill you.”

Mr. Trick blinked slowly as the wounded Slayer pulled herself up against her bonds and said in a surreal voice, “Giles will nail you down in the graveyard to wait for sunrise, and he’ll toast marshmallows over your burning corpse while you scream.”

“Oh really”, Mr. Trick drawled, cocking an eyebrow thoughtfully. “And what if I kill the Watcher first?”

The smile Buffy gave him then was predatory enough to make the fledglings back away uncertainly, leaving only Trick in front of her and Gorch at her back with the knife. The Negro vampire felt the demon in him begin to writhe in terror as he read the answer in the Slayer’s fathomless eyes.

For a moment, time stood still, perched on a threshold that only Buffy and Trick were aware of. Then, with a roar of frustration at his inability to break the girl, Trick backhanded Buffy across the face, throwing her backwards against her restraints and spinning her to the side. With a whimper, the Slayer went limp again, offering no further resistance to her fate. She began to shake, and Trick leaned forward to enjoy the sound of her tears.

And Buffy began to giggle....}}

{{Willow crept forward slowly and carefully, trying not to make a sound as she pulled herself along the floor of the warehouse. She was safe from detection, hidden by the debris of forgotten merchandise and accumulated trash. Just ahead, she could hear voices, and one of them was Buffy’s.

As Willow lifted her eyes to the scene before her, Buffy, standing with her wrists tied over her head, made a comment to a slick-looking vampire with dark skin about someone’s personal odor. Willow’s brow furrowed as she tried to remember the demon’s name. Something with a ‘T’...wasn’t he named after a cereal?

“No need to be rude, Slayer”, the Black vampire soothed, grinning evilly. “We’re all friends here, after all.” Turning, he laid a tiny, unconscious baby in a beat-up bassinet and continued, “Let’s start getting better acquainted.”

Two of the lackeys--fledglings, since Will recognized them from her Biology class--complied by raking the Slayer’s sides with their claws. A third immediately dealt a serious blow to the Slayer’s lower back to prevent her from striking out with her feet.

The vampires began to torture Buffy, cutting into her with claws and knives, pummeling her with their fists. Willow tried to crawl away to find help, only to see that there was a sentry posted by the door. Tears streaming down her face, Willow choked back her sobs and turned back to Buffy and her tormenters. She watched until she could no longer stand to see her best friend suffering in silence and then she let her eyes fall shut and dropped her already tear-stained face onto her arms as she curled into a ball, praying for everything to be a dream.

Willow couldn’t tell whether a moment or an eternity passed before she was roused from her sorrow by Buffy’s whimpers of terror. Without thinking, the young witch looked up and nearly cried out in horror to see the Slayer fighting the ties that bound her, blood seeping around the ropes and soaking them to a deep red, her eyes wide and helpless as a burly blond demon fed at her throat.

The dark-skinned vampire was calmly drawing a knife across Buffy’s stomach, leaving her clothes tattered to expose a thin line of blood below her navel. “I’ve got to give you credit, Slayer. You take pain well for a little girl.” Willow’s fists clenched in impotent fury as Buffy began to shake convulsively. The Slayer’s eyelids flickered as if she were losing consciousness.

The leader frowned as he stepped closer and forcibly removed the blonde, growling, “That’s more than enough, Marcus. You’ll end it too quickly. It isn’t often that we get to play with a Slayer.”

Buffy fell completely limp, her head falling forward as she slumped, held vertical by the meat hook.

“Damn, Marcus”, the elder vampire mused, “looks like you might have killed our guest. How sad.” Almost casually, he grabbed Marcus by the hair and twisted, breaking the minion’s neck as punishment.

Willow’s vision blurred with new tears as she realized that it was all over, but when she wiped angrily at her eyes, the Slayer had shifted slightly, sobbing, and her lips moved.

The Negro vampire heard the words that Willow couldn’t, and he thoughtfully cupped Buffy’s chin and asked with mock-concern, “Hallucinating, Slayer? Must be the blood loss.”

Another vamp giggled as he played with a knife on Buffy’s back, and Willow could see her wince as she hissed, “M-my friends...they’ll...they’ll...”

Willow knew the moment she was spotted, and she met Buffy’s gaze with eyes as wide as dinner plates and filled with raw grief.

The Slayer seemed to change before her friend’s eyes, drawing herself straighter against her bonds as if getting a second wind. “They’ll kill you.” Willow blinked at the strange sound of Buffy’s voice--as if it reverberated through the listeners’ bones.

“Giles will nail you down in the graveyard to wait for sunrise”, Buffy told the vampire with such predatory glee that even Willow shrank back slightly, “and he’ll toast marshmallows over your burning corpse while you scream.”

“Oh really”, he replied, smirking sardonically as he leaned in closer. “And what if I kill the Watcher first?”

Buffy smiled then, in a way that Willow hadn’t seen since Angelus. It was a smile of sublime cruelty, promising a violent death to her captors.

There was a moment of tense silence as Slayer and vampire glared at each other, and then Buffy was flying back from a blow so swiftly delivered that it was invisible to the human eye.

The vampire leaned in close to Buffy as she began to shake, still recovering from the attack. Hanging limp in her bonds, Buffy turned slightly, and Willow saw it before he did. The vampire who had so enjoyed carving into the Slayer’s back had taken a few steps away, his hands empty.

“Trick...um...”, the vampire stuttered nervously, “the Slayer...”

Trick stiffened, his nostrils flaring as he caught the scent of blood, and he grabbed the Slayer by her shoulder, and spun her ‘til he could clearly see the handle of the knife protruding from between the barely-visible slats of her ribs. “Damn”, he muttered in annoyance, removing the blade with an irate jerk.

Willow felt like gagging as Buffy laughed softly, gloating at her slight victory over her foe, but the laugh was cut short when the Slayer collapsed with a liquid cough and choked up a mouthful of the blood already pooling in her punctured lung.

Then a hand clamped down on Willow’s shoulder and she...}}

...struggled wildly against the restraining hands, emitting a short scream in shock.

“Will, stop!” Xander pleaded, a look of abject terror in his eyes. At the sound of his voice, the hacker-witch calmed, opening slightly dazed eyes to gaze around the waiting room without recognition.

“Will, are you okay?” Xander asked quietly, feeling the presences of Oz and Faith at his back.

“Oz”, Willow whimpered, staring past her childhood friend and stretching out both arms like a child wanting to be held. “I want Oz.”

In the blink of an eye, the werewolf skirted around Xander and drew Willow into his embrace, murmuring nonsensical words of comfort when the girl broke down completely. “Shh--hey, it’s okay”, Oz told her evenly, cradling her close. “You’re safe now.”

Xander watched Oz soothe Willow with a strange sinking in his gut. Somehow, seeing Willow in another person’s arms--especially Oz’s--made him feel like he had been sucker-punched.

“Shit”, Faith commented, “looks like it’s contagious.”

Xander turned to the Slayer, relieved to have something else to think about. “What do you mean?”

“That’s pretty much what B did before. Weird how everyone’s started going ‘Nightmare on Elm Street’ all at once.” Faith frowned as she watched Willow rock in Oz’s embrace. “I need to hit something.”

“Yeah”, Xander agreed softly.

“Hey”, Oz said quietly as Willow drew back a bit. “Are you gonna be okay?”

Willow shook her head, calmed but still huddled against her boyfriend. “I saw...”

“What’d you see?” Oz prompted, rubbing her back gently as she stopped. Xander and Faith hovered nearby, listening with interest.

“I saw Buffy”, Willow whispered, ducking her head. “In the dream she told us about. Me and Xander. With the baby.”

“Yeah”, Xander nodded. “I remember.”

“Wait”, Faith interrupted, smirking as if amused by the statement. “Buffy had a dream where you and Xander had a baby?”

“NO!” Xander denied immediately. “No. Buffy told us about a dream she had with a baby in it. Not our baby!”

“There was more”, Willow continued as if no one had spoken. “I had to watch.” A few fat tears rolled down her cheeks. “They...they did bad things...with knives and stuff. They were killing her and I couldn’t do anything! I couldn’t...make it...stop!” Bursting into fresh, angry tears, Willow buried her face in her hands and didn’t resist as Oz pulled her against his shoulder.

Xander and Faith looked at each other uncertainly, unsure of what to do, as the doors swung open and Joyce walked in.

“Willow? What happened?” Buffy’s mother asked concernedly, worry and exhaustion digging deep lines into her face. Maternally, she placed a hand on the redhead’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“Willow had a bad dream, Mrs. S”, Faith interjected hurriedly, not wanting Joyce to hear anything concerning Buffy’s death.

“It might be important then”, Joyce offered distractedly. “Mr. Giles just called from the library, something about a dream demon. He needs you there right away.”