Giles and Angel were debating intensely over a musty tome when the Slayerettes and Faith entered the library. As the looked up, both men tensed, their eyes drawn to Willow’s pale, tear-streaked face.

“Buffy...”, Angel whispered painfully, fearing the worst.

“Has something happened?” Giles demanded at the same time, taking a short step toward the redheaded hacker. “Is Buffy...?”

“Buffy’s hanging in there”, Xander replied reassuringly, watching Oz lead Willow to the table. “She had a bad dream.”

“A dream?” Giles repeated quickly, turning sharply to Willow as Angel pulled out a chair for the girl and her boyfriend settled her in. “What kind of dream?”

“A bad one”, Faith muttered under her breathe, hopping up on the checkout counter. “Duh.”

Willow looked up at Giles with red-rimmed eyes and haltingly whispered, “It was in a factory, and there were vampires, and--and Buffy was--Oh, God, Giles, there was so much blood...” The sobs broke free once more, and Giles retreated as Oz tried to calm the girl. Giles and Angel exchanged devastated looks and pounced almost in tandem on the books. Xander took the unspoken hint and joined in the research, though he didn’t know any details. When Willow was back under control, she leaned wearily against Oz, tired out by the tears and the worry of the night. “Giles?”

“Hmmm?” Giles asked, his hands moving through a large stack of books.

“Is that what’s happening to Buffy?” Willow inquired plaintively, “Is that what’s killing her?”

Giles sputtered a bit, trying not to look as grim as the situation as he told her, “I-I’m not...perhaps, yes, but...the thing is, this demon is feeding off of Buffy’s fear and pain by making her experience her own death. If she is as close as it sounds....”

“But we know what it is, right?” Xander interrupted. “So let’s destroy it!”

“Yeah, point me in the right direction and I’ll slay. We’ll have B terrorizing vamps again by tomorrow night”, Faith added confidently. All eyes turned to Giles for a plan, and the Englishman lay his hands on the table surface and leaned forward to explain.

“It’s not that simple”, Giles admitted, “we need to find the host body which the demon is using to interface with our plane of existence. It could be anyone.”

“The boy”, Angel said quietly. “That’s what it means. She’s trying to tell us something. We both had these dreams...”

“Yes...”, Giles said slowly, his eyes focusing on a point beyond Angel’s head as he thought aloud. “Yes, of course...Buffy’s dreams are a direct link to the future. Given her powers as the Slayer, it is entirely possible that she could invade our dreams and leave a message. And our only frame of reference is the future...children we will meet years from now...Of course.” Giles nodded, his eyes narrowing in concentration. The Watcher frowned as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Um...I’m a little lost here”, Xander offered, raising a hand. “What are we talking about?”

“It’s not important, Xander”, Giles said dismissively. “We need to find some means of exorcising a Morphei from a host body. Angel and Faith should attempt to locate him or her. We dare not limit our search to male children. If you see anything suspicious...”

“Suspicious? In Sunnydale?” Faith gasped incredulously, “Naw, never happen.” With a smirk, the Slayer hopped off the counter and sauntered toward the door. “You coming, Cuddles?”

Angel grimaced and assured Giles, “We’ll call if we find anything.” Turning, the vampire followed Faith out of the library and into the night.

{{Her heartbeat roared in Buffy’s ears as she tried to breathe through the foaming liquid in her bursting lungs. She was distantly aware of the vamps talking--and then she was alone, and she wondered what had happened to Willow.

Her sight was dimming as all of her energy poured into a vain attempt to stem the flow of blood and life from her body, and she could no longer see anything but a black haze.

She shivered as a clod hand gently probed her wounds...}}

“Soon”, Drusilla purred, “soon...”

Faith kicked in the rotting doors of one of the many abandoned factories near Sunnydale’s docks. Stake in hand, she rolled into a crouch and dusted a vamp in mid-feed. The unconscious victim fell to the ground, bleeding sluggishly, and Faith surveyed the warehouse with disappointed eyes. “Only one”, she muttered. “Bummer.”

Willow frowned as she scanned the text, trying to concentrate, but her eyes were drawn to Giles, who paced like a caged animal as he picked up book after book, tensely turning the pages, slamming the volumes down one after another, his anger increasing until...

“Giles?” Willow whispered timidly, laying the book carefully on the heavy oak table. The Watcher whirled at the sound of her voice, his anger metamorphosing almost eerily into mildly flustered concern.

“Yes?”

Angel shifted uncomfortably as he walked up the road. The mansion rose in front of him as a familiar itch beneath his skin told him that dawn was near. There was no time to search further, and now he was forced to spend the day at the mansion only weeks after he’d left it and the bad memories it guarded. He hoped that Buffy would be able to hold on...

Joyce sighed as she entered Buffy’s hospital room and collapsed into the chair by the bed. Wearily, she rubbed at the growing knot in her temples. The heart monitor beeped softly, rhythmically, in time with Buffy’s life, reminding Joyce of a clock winding down...

Willow looked at Giles with worry clawing at her insides. “I-I’ve been thinking, Giles...”, the hacker began, nervously playing with the end of her sleeve. “If Buffy’s sharing dreams, and she can only show us what’s in the real future, then since I saw...what I saw...does that mean I’ll be there, too?”

Angel shuddered as he heard her voice, scented her insanity in the air. So many things became clear all at once. Drusilla, his mad, powerful Childe: his greatest pride and joy--his deepest shame and sorrow.

His fault.

Wearily, Angel peered into the darkness, a dull ache in his heart as he wondered if he was already too late...

Ruthlessly, Joyce squashed her traitorous thoughts and looked at her daughter with misty eyes. Buffy had ceased her restless thrashing and lay still, breathing in short gasps through lips that were just barely tinged with blue. Even Joyce could see that the young Slayer was hanging on by a thread.

And then the thread unraveled.

Drusilla spun happily around the room as the demon inside the boy glutted ravenously through the Slayer’s dreams--drinking her pain and fear in greedy draughts. The mad vampire quivered with joy as she felt the flow ebb, the Slayer weakening...

And then she felt HIM--like a spider’s crawl on the fine hairs of her neck...

“Angel...”

{{Buffy moaned quietly as icy fingers moved over her skin, delicately finding the worst of the wounds and easing them into numbness.

The fingertips slid quickly to the blood-soaked ropes at Buffy’s wrists...}}

“I’m honestly not sure, Willow”, Giles admitted, his brow furrowing in concentration. “It would appear to be rather likely, but the nature of this demon--especially in this case--is somewhat paradoxical.”

Buffy’s breath hitched for a moment, and a tremor wracked her unconscious body. Joyce jumped in startlement and reached for a call button...

And the EKG’s banshee wail keened loudly into the dying night.

“Because if Buffy dies now...she can’t die that way in the future”, Willow realized, her eyes widening at the implications, “But that doesn’t make sense...”

“Dru”, Angel murmured softly. “What are you doing?”

Drusilla smiled dreamily at him, holding out her arms and crooning warmly in greeting and invitation. “Angel...my Angel...”

{{Buffy was dimly aware of a prickling in her fingertips as she swayed under the pressure of gentle hands sawing through the ropes twining around her wrists, and then she was falling into a solid chest and arms that burned like ice on her violated flesh.}}

Joyce sucked in hungry lung-fulls of air, watching helplessly as blue and white strangers ran in and out, swarming over Buffy’s unresponsive body.

Her eyes filling with tears that she refused to shed, Joyce looked away, her gaze lighting by chance on a public telephone.

Faith leaned heavily on the rotting doorframe of another warehouse, fighting a losing battle against the invisible force that pressed into her from all sides. It was a painful with anticipation and terror and pain, and the pressure was fast moving to a breaking point as a small, frightened voice deep inside the Slayer’s mind wordless sobbed it’s fear of the dark...

Willow and Giles both tensed as the telephone screamed a summons from the depths of the office. Giles stood as still as stone for a moment, then he was rushing to answer, his mouth a wasteland, his stomach a leaden weight.

As Xander and Oz ran down from the stacks, Willow bit her lip, shaking with the fear that she knew who was calling...

“Dru...”, Angel murmured, taking in the scene before him in disbelief. The candles and circles, the unconscious child on the altar--breathing, thank the powers that be--all his fault... “What have you done?”

“Angel, you’ve come to see...” Drusilla languidly moved to her sire’s side, twining her arms around his neck and laying her head on his chest, nuzzling him like a faithful dog. “I’m going to have another Slayer, Angel. So very soon... Are you proud of me?”

“How soon, Dru?” Angel’s eyes bored into the top of her head as if he would burn away her madness with the heat of his gaze and find salvation in the ashes.

“Can you feel it, my Angel? Like butterfly wings tickling my fingers... The stars, they laugh so loudly...”

“Dru!” Angel snapped firmly, grasping the female vampire by the shoulders and holding her away from him. “How soon?”

{{Buffy shivered as she was lowered to the ground...}}

Dru screeched and tore away from her sire, hissing, “You’re not my Angel! You’re a very bad Daddy!”

Turning away from him, she fled, running toward the still-open front door...

{{Buffy sobbed and arched away from the ground as the cold concrete touched her bloody back--and then she was lifted like a child into strong arms, cradled like a helpless infant as someone whispered, “hush...”}}

Angel’s momentary hesitation was all that was neccessary to escape--but he gave chase, hopelessly trailing behind his Childe like the tail of a comet...

Giles found his eyes fixed on Willow’s hunched form as he listened without words to the shuddering, gasping news that rattled down the lines. She knew already, he was sure. Giles gripped the handset so tightly that he thought it would crack, but he pulled his emotions into control and managed to say, “I’m on my way.”

Willow whimpered quietly as she pulled her knees to her chest, her magical senses tingling as she stretched them out to find Buffy...

But maybe it was the distance, she thought, or her own novice status. Maybe she was doing something wrong...just because she couldn’t feel...anything at all...where the Slayer’s warm presence should be...it didn’t mean anything...

She hoped...

Joyce was silent, still as a statue, as she leaned against the cool white wall of the hallway, her eye closed, waiting... There was nothing left to do but wait...

Seeing Drusilla outlined in the pale morning light, Angel realized what she meant to do, and tried to call out--but his airless lungs produced no sound.

Falling to his knees just short of the doorway, the searing dawn half-blinding him, Angel saw the darkness of Dru’s body explode through the doorway and into the fiery light--he heard her scream, and he shut his eyes against the sight, tears of blood streaming down his face...

For Drusilla...

For Buffy...

For himself.

Faith walked slowly down the middle of the street, her stake held loosely in one hand as she looked around the quiet, sleeping town. It was an interesting feeling, being the only one out in the early light.

Being alone...

Faith frowned at the unwelcome sinking in her stomach. The pressure that had overwhelmed her was gone, the frightened baby-voice no longer crying about the dark. It should have relieved her, to be free of the invasion of her mind.

So why did she only feel loss?

Disgusted at herself for the introspective moment, Faith quickened her step, trying to dismiss the uncomfortable feelings that lurked inside her.

{{Buffy stood in the corner of the sterile hospital room and watched the doctors work feverishly on her pale and unresponsive body. She was vaguely aware of her mother in the hall--on the other side of solid, wooden doors. Numbly, Buffy took in the bright light that suffused everything--the patterns of color that hung like perfume on each of the doctors...

There was no color in her body; her skin was almost translucent, and the near-invisible, pale blue veins underneath only created an ethereal, ghost-like appearance in the young Slayer.

"Hello, Buffy." At the sound of the voice, Buffy whirled, feeling the rest of the world fade away into white as she spun, leaving only the faint sound of the doctor calling out orders and the pull of exhaustion.

"Ms. Calendar? What are you doing here? You're..."

"Dead?" Jenny Calendar walked toward Buffy, a smile of welcome lighting her face. "That's true. How do you feel?"

"Cold...tired...", Buffy said, rubbing her arms as a feeling of lethargy crept over her. Looking down, she was somehow un-surprised to see that she wore a man’s white dress shirt...Angel's. Reassured, Buffy snuggled down into it sleepily, whispering, "Something was in my head."

"It's gone now", Jenny said soothingly. "The bindings are broken on the spell.” Still smiling, the former computer teacher reached out to the teenager and said, “Take my hand, Buffy."

Complying drowsily as she rubbed at her eyes with her free hand, Buffy asked, "Where are we going?"

Jenny smiled and opened a door in the whiteness and began to pull the young Slayer through. "Shh. Just let go, Buffy. You need to rest."}}