Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series and all the characters that appear on the show are the exclusive property of Joss Whedon, David Greenwalt, The WB, UPN, Mutant Enemy, Inc. and any one else with a legal binding claim to the shows and/or characters. No copyright infringement is intended.

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DREAMING PLANES, LOCATION UNKNOWN

"Are you sure this will work?" Buffy asked for the third time. Aldric sighed and she grinned. "I know, I know, I just like it when you do that."

"Do what?"

"The long-suffering sigh. It's very Giles, you know."

"I'll take that as a complement. I admire Rupert Giles greatly, you know."

"Did you know him? You know, in Watcher-land?"

"He was a quite a few years ahead of me in school, if that's what you mean. But yes, I knew him. Not well, but as I said, I admired him. Truly the Council could not have assigned a better man to guide you, Buffy. I knew of Merrick as well, of course, but only by reputation, so I cannot speak of his personal merits."

"Oh. Remind me to pick your brain for all the embarrassing Giles moments once I finish talking to Willow."

"Alright," Aldric replied with a wicked grin. "Does that mean you're ready to proceed."

"Ready as I'll ever be," Buffy sighed. Closing her eyes, she began breathing in until her lungs felt like they were going to burst, trying not to think about how she really didn't have lungs and this was all illusion, trying to free her mind of all extraneous thoughts as Aldric had tried to teach her. She reached out her hand, touching the strange olive bubble that surrounded Willow...

...and suddenly she was standing in Tara's old dorm room. Willow was walking around the room, picking up objects almost absently and putting them back. The girls' cat, Miss Kitty Fantastico, was rubbing around her ankles. Willow turned around and started to see Buffy there. The two women stared at each other for some time before Willow nodded.

"It's true then. I'm dead."

"No."

"Okay, dying." Willow moved away towards her friend. "That's why you've come, right?" she asked, then wrapped her arms around her friend fiercely. "I know I should be sad, but I can't...Goddess, Buffy, I'm so happy to see you! I've missed you so much."

"Me too, Wills. Me too. But you're not dead. And you can't die. I really, really need you not to die." Buffy's voice cracked on the last word and Willow pulled away, frowning.

"I don't understand, Buffy."

"I need you to live. I...I need your help."

"But-"

"I'm not dead, Will. I mean, I am dead, in the sense of not being in my body. But I'm stuck in a place I'm not supposed to be."

"Oh. Buffy, are you in Hell?" Willow asked, her eyes brimming with tears. "Because I tried to find that out, you know, but the energies weren't clear and I could never get a good casting, and I just thought you...that you had to have gone to heaven, cause you were Buffy, you know? Oh, God, what have I done? You must hate me!"

"No, no, no. Will! I could never... look, just listen! I'm not in Hell, exactly...I mean, this place is okay, I guess, in a weirder than average way. The thing is, there's been some kind of karmic meltdown, not that that should surprise us. I'm not supposed to be here."

"Here?"

"Dreaming Planes. That's what it's called anyway. Place you go sometimes when you dream, like you are now. Giles will know. I think. Anyway, he can find out."

"Dreaming Planes. Right," Willow said, biting her lip, her eyes a bit dazed. Buffy grabbed her hand, meeting her eyes urgently.

"I need you to go back. I'm stuck here, and you and Giles are the only ones I think can unstick me. Please, Will."

"Oh," Will breathed, frowning. "But Buffy, I'm...I'm dying. You do know that, right?"

"You don't have to, though," Buffy said confidently. "I have it on good authority...you don't have to die, Will. It's not going to be easy, but you can will yourself to live." Buffy cracked a trembling grin. "So, will, Will." In spite of herself, Willow giggled.

"So what you're telling me is, even Death cowers before the resolve face?" she teased, marveling at her own ability to joke at a time like this, even if it was probably a reaction to the shock. Buffy laughed, hugging her friend again.

"Exactly," she said. "I know this is gonna be tough, Will. I know it would be easier to let go..." Willow pulled out of the embrace to meet her friend's eyes.

"I can do it. I won't let you down, Buffy," Willow said quietly, then shrugged. "It's not like I was exactly ready to go, anyway. And if I can bring you back...God, Buffy, I just..." Willow trailed off, too overcome with emotion to continue.

"I hope..." Buffy began, then stopped. What did she hope? That Giles could find a way to bring her back to earth, or that he could find a way to send her to heaven? Watching Willow's tears of hope, Buffy still wasn't sure about that answer.

****************

SUNNYDALE, CALIFORNIA

Spike was too exhausted to be restless, but not exhausted enough to sleep. Nowadays he had to be passed out drunk or completely worn out for any kind of sleep to really overtake him. It wasn't like fatigue would make him sick; still, it wouldn't do to let the reflexes go because he was groggy. He stretched out on his bed, too tired to pretend he wasn't tired. No, the real reason he was still awake was unavoidable and he had to accept it. He didn't want to see her.

The recurring nightmare had started right after Buffy's death. Everytime he closed his eyes he relived her death in glorious technicolor, and everytime he came closer to saving her. But he never, ever could. Allowing the exhaustion to overtake him at last, he settled back for another round of hopelessness.

Eternity had never seemed so long.

"And let the screaming begin," he muttered as his eyes fluttered closed.

****************

DESTINY, MAINE

Lydia began pacing restlessly as soon as Koy had left. The frustration was like a tangible thing, like another person, egging her on.

*Stupid to come here. Not getting anywhere, and Koy won't tell me what's going on. Should have just done this on my own. No one else I can trust. What was I thinking? Should just leave quietly, be on my way. There's nothing for me here.*

If Lydia was honest with herself, she knew exactly where those thoughts were coming from. That part of her that was inexorably changed by her bonding herself temporarily to a vampire. That new hardness had been invaluable to her at times, but the stubborn independence was a problem.

*I can't do this on my own. I need help...*

Of course, she had another friend she could have turned to: Spike himself. Yet Lydia had found herself totally reluctant to do so. He had been inside her, knew her better than any other person ever would. Knew how she had felt about him for so long...Lydia shuddered. Spike was definitely a course of last resort.

It surprised her how hard it was to remember what it felt like to be bonded to him now. Still, on the rare occasion there was a tickle in her mind, and she wonder if the bond still existed. But it was her own mind playing tricks on her. There was no bond between the vampire and Lydia anymore...but there was something of the vampire left behind. She had a little extra strength, a bit more quickness, her temper came more quickly and she was capable of being ruthless in a way she had never been before. It was that inner steel that was calling to her to cut her losses and get out of Destiny now. At the very least, Koy's vision seemed to indicate her presence was putting these people in danger.

She stood, collecting herself, when something she hadn't noticed before caught her eye. It was a piece of paper wedged into the edge of the couch. She knew she was likely being watched, but she still reached down and worked the paper bit by bit out of its cranny. It was a drawing done in crayon of a woman, a child and a car. She frowned down at the crudely drawn picture, wondering if Koy had drawn one of his visions, and if so why he was using crayons, when she heard footsteps and voices approaching.

"No! Stop! Don't-"

Lydia gaped as two people ran into the room: Tampa and the person she immediately knew had drawn the picture she was holding. A five year-old child looked up at her solemnly, the spitting image of Koy Lorenzo except for his soft blue eyes. Tricia's eyes. Tampa looked at her guiltily for just a moment before her expression switched to venomous hatred.

"Matthew, no! You're not supposed to..." Tampa began, trying to forcibly pull the child from the room. He squirmed out of her grasp, never breaking eye contact with Lydia. Tampa turned her wrath on Lydia. "This is all your fault. You've cast a spell on him of something. My brother said-"

"You're name is Matthew?" Lydia said gently, as if Tampa wasn't even present. The boy nodded. "That's a fine name. I'm Lydia." Matthew held out his hand to her, and she held out the drawing. "Did you draw this?" The boy nodded, never losing his grave expression. "It's very nice. Can you tell me who it is?"

"Tampa? Tampa, where's...dear God," Tricia inhaled sharply upon coming upon the scene. Lydia's eyes were drawn from the boy to his mother, disappointment and betrayal in her eyes. “You weren’t supposed to find out,” Tricia said in a low voice, her eyes on Tampa but her comment directed towards Lydia.

"He ran from me...I couldn't stop him," Tampa stammered, paling under her sister-in-law's glare. Trish turned to Lydia, her expression a strange mixture of relief, guilt and something that made Lydia's blood run cold. Abject fear. Matthew glanced back at his mother but moved closer to Lydia. Her oldest friend was now unable to meet Lydia's accusing gaze.

"Lydia, I'm so sorry," Tricia stammered. "I wanted to tell you, but Koy...we decided we had to keep Matthew a secret. From the Council most of all, and your ties...Koy was so frightened, I couldn't..."

"What are you both so afraid of?" Lydia asked her voice strained as her eyes wandered back to the silent boy. Matthew reached out his hand and touched Lydia's arm, then drew it in to point at himself. Gazing into his eyes, Lydia made an intuitive leap. The second she began to speak, she knew she was right.

"Matthew had a vision. And Koy thought I was going to take him away. It all makes sense now. Your husband thinks I'm here to kidnap your son!"

"No!" Tricia protested, but there was dawning understanding in her eyes. "Koy would never have kept something like that from me. And Matthew couldn’t have told him anything. Matthew has never spoken, not since he was born."

"But he draws pictures," Lydia said, brandishing the drawing in sad triumph. "This is a picture of the two of us, and my car. Matthew is trying to say I'm going to take him away."

Tricia's mouth dropped open, but her protestations died on her lips, killed by the manic flame in Tampa's eyes. And the revolver in her hand, pointed squarely at Lydia's chest.

"You won't be taking him anywhere. Don't think I won't do what I have to..." Tampa said, her hand only trembling slightly. Tricia's mouth was working in a soundless scream as Matthew watched with haunted eyes.

*He's already seen this,* Lydia thought to herself. *He knows what's going to happen. Well, in this case one needn't be clairvoyant.* She raised an eyebrow as Matthew wrapped his arms around her waist and closed his eyes. Tricia sunk to the ground, her throat producing a low keening wail that made Lydia want to comfort her...except that she apparently wasn't going anywhere, at least not alive.

"Let the child go," Tampa said, and Lydia laughed, the sound shocking her friend into silence.

"I think you need to ask the child to let me go, don't you? Tell me something, Tampa. Did Koy tell you to kill me, or is this your idea?"

****************

OUTSIDE LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA

"I need to see a prisoner," Angel said desperately, giving Faith's name to the guard at the security desk. The guard raised an eyebrow at the vampire's anxious demeanor, then punched a few buttons on his computer keyboard. Frowning, he checked the visitor's log and shook his head.

"Sorry, you'll have to wait. She's got visitors already, haven't been here too long. Could be a while." Angel looked down at the visitor log and saw BLACKMAN printed next to Faith's name in block letters. He fought back a fresh wave of panic.

"Where are they?" Angel demanded tightly. The guard looked into his face and paled, his hand subtly moving towards an alarm.

"Look, buddy, I can't-"

Angel grabbed the man by the shirt and pulled him over the counter. The guard gave a short girlish scream.

"Where. Are. They?" Angel asked again, making it clear that his patience was waning fast.

"E-121," the guard answered hastily. Angel set the man back down gently and put his finger to his mouth in a shhhing gesture. The guard nodded vehemently as Angel reached over and punched him in the mouth. The vampire knew this wasn't going to buy him much time. He just hoped it would be enough.

"Hang on, Faith," he muttered like a mantra as he ran. "Hang on."

**********

OUTSIDE LOS ANGELES, FIVE MINUTES AGO

"Oh goody, you're back," Faith said in her least enthusiastic tone of voice. Hortensia Blackman sighed thinly, while the girl seated beside her grinned toothily. The smile made her look like a miniature shark, and Faith was pretty sure she was just as deadly. Hortensia nodded towards the shark-girl.

"Faith, this is Sharonda. Sharonda, Faith."

"Pleasure," Sharonda said blithely, her grin actually widening. Faith tried to smirk, for the first time in her life finding herself unable.

"Australian. Figures," she said, thinking almost disassociatively about Australia, and sharks, and vampires. "Listen, you've interrupted my beauty sleep, so can we make this quick?" Faith snapped, trying to cover up the sudden wave of fear that left her feeling strangely weak.

"Speed is in fact of the essence, Faith. We have much to do and not much time. You see, Sharonda here has recently completed her training as Slayer, and there's only one final test to make certain she's ready."

"She's a Slayer?" Faith asked, trying to swallow. Her mouth had gone dry, and her head was pounding. *Magic,* she thought dizzily. *Hor's using some kind of hex on me.* "I thought you said no new Slayer was called when B-"

"That's true," Hortensia said agreeably. "No new Slayer was called when Miss Summers died."

"Then...oh, I get it. You're doing some kind of mojo that's going to kill me, and you think Ms. Grins over here will be called...nice, cowardly way of going about it. She's gonna make quite the Slayer when you have to soften her enemies up for her." Despite feeling like the room was spinning, Faith finally managed to smirk when she saw the flash of anger in the girl's eyes. Her grin had completely disappeared.

"No," Sharonda said.

"She's trying to goad you into fighting her," Hortensia said calmly. "It won't do."

"But-"

"I'm afraid it's useless to appeal to Sharonda's sense of fair play, Faith. She hasn't one."

"I wasn't appealing to her sense of fair play. I was appealing to her sense of wanting to kick my ass." Faith gave the girl a scornful look. "Oh, but it doesn't look like she's got one of those, either. Sorry."

"Release her," Sharonda said tightly.

"I don't think-"

"Dammit, I said to release her!" Sharonda shouted. Faith almost immediately began to feel better. As her head cleared, she smiled saucily at Sharonda.

"You ever fight a Slayer before, wannabe?" Off Sharonda's look, she grinned wider. "Yeah, well guess what? I have. The best. And I survived, but I got my ass majorly kicked into a coma. I've been itching to return the favor to somebody for so long."

"So you'll kill me? A defenseless girl? So much for your fabled redemption." At Faith's frown, Sharonda pressed her advantage, gesturing towards Hortensia, who was watching the girl's circle each other impassively. "You really think they care which one of us wins, so long as they get the Slayer? So go on, Faith. Kill me. Take your best shot."

Faith's momentary hesitation was all the opening Sharonda needed. With a cry she hurled herself at Faith, grabbing hold of her head and pressing with her hands. Faith screamed as the smell of burning skin and hair filled her nostrils and impossible heat felt like it was being seared directly onto her brain. She reached out blindly and grabbed hold of the girl's arms. Ignoring her now-burning hands, she shoved with all her might and Sharonda went flying to the other side of the room. Faith cradled her hands to her chest and looked tearfully at the girl, groggily regaining her feet. Hortensia was watching them both closely, her face reflecting almost religious ecstasy.

"Alright, bitch," Faith growled, trying to gather herself for the attack she knew was coming. "You know, just between us girls, if you do manage to kill me, you're gonna be the butt-ugliest Slayer ever." Sharonda screamed in rage and Faith managed a grin despite her pain. "Truth hurts, don't it, hot stuff?"

"You think you're pretty, Faith? You should see yourself now," Sharonda panted, raising her hands in front of herself. Two balls of magickal fire appeared on her palms. "You know, the banter has been fun and all, but we're kind of on a bit of a schedule. Date with destiny, you know how it is."

"What the hell are you?" Faith asked hoarsely, transfixed by the globes of blue fire.

"Just a girl...the better girl, it seems," Sharonda said, taking aim like a pitcher and throwing the flaming ball at Faith. Even as the Slayer ran she knew her opponent was lining her up for a killing blow with the other globe, and she knew she wouldn't be able to outrun that shot even with her speed. Faith closed her eyes as she ran, waiting for the killing blow.