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< Okay, this is so not good. I’m kidnapped by a grief-stricken vampire that thinks his dead girlfriend is talking to him. I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die. > Without realizing it, Willow released a small moan.
“You’re right, Pet. I’m having too much fun. It’s time to fulfill Dru’s dying wish,” Spike said in mock sincerity, then smiled wickedly. He looked up at the doorway to the cell, where apparently his Drusilla was standing. “Would you like to tell her what that is, love?”
There was silence for a moment as Spike listened to his imaginary girlfriend speaking to them. Willow stared back at her in horror. “No. I won’t help you. You can’t make me help you.”
“Yes we can. And we will.” Spike said. Then his expression shifted into one of mock concern. “By the way, how is your mate, Xander, doing right now? I hear he got the bloody hell beat out of him.”
“What are you saying?” Willow asked carefully, her gaze still pinned on the psycho-vamp before her. She misunderstood the reason for the change in conversation.
“What I’m saying, my pet, is that some people find pain… very inspirational. Especially when it happens to the people they love.”
Willow immediately understood. The world started spinning as she imagined every possible scenario in her head. She closed her eyes, trying to hold back the tears she felt coming. They flowed freely down her cheeks as she pictured Xander being attacked. Once again, Spike found her weakness. < Oh God, please no, not Xander. > “Don’t,” she whispered. She opened her eyes, silently pleading with the vampire.
Spike’s smile became cruel as he inched his face closer to her, and she could almost feel his cold breath on her cheek. “Yeah, that’ll work. Now say ‘pretty please’ and I might consider it.” He stood up and walked out of the room. Moments later Spike returned carrying an ancient looking book. He opened it up and set it down next to the now-sobbing Willow, pointing at one of the pages. “Read. That’s all you have to do. Cast the spell, and your little friends get to live... for a while.”
Willow sat up and wiped the tears from her eyes. Choking back sobs, she scanned the page. It was written in Latin, a language she knew well after years of studying it in school. Realization struck. < This the spell that opens the Hellmouth. He wants me to send my friends to Hell?! How stupid does he think I am? > Instantly, her emotions switched from desperately woeful to pissed off. She closed her eyes and hoped to them, it would look like she was preparing to chant. < Okay, Rosenberg, here’s what you do. Change some of the words, send them somewhere safe until you can retrieve them. >
She slowly opened her eyes and began to chant the words laid out before her; “Gods and Goddesses, hear my plea. Open thy gate...” As she continued to read the pages, cold wind whipped around her. A bright light enveloped her, growing brighter until she couldn’t see. She stood. The mixture of dust and wind swirled like a funnel around her, red hair lashing her face like a whip. Still, she continued, speaking louder and louder until at last she was shouting. Her arms were held high, her feet planted firmly on the ground. Suddenly, it stopped, and everything was calm. Willow could feel her knees giving out on her and she cried out. Strong arms caught her as she collapsed in exhaustion.
The spell was finished.
Cordelia walked into the office grumbling. < Just who does Xander think he is, talking to me like that? > She glanced back at Angel. “Can you believe that just happened?” she asked.
“Yes,” he responded. Cordelia sighed. < I’ve spent six weeks working for him, and we still haven’t had an actual conversation. > He walked over to the cabinet filled with Watcher Diaries. She began her search of the filing cabinet, talking as she looked, trying to break her friend out of his familiar ‘cryptic mode’.
“I mean, Xander thinks he can get away with everything ‘cause he’s a guy. So what? Does he have to walk around wearing short skirts and heels? No. And it’s not like he has P.M.S. to deal with, is it? That’s another no. Well, let me tell you something, I don’t care who he thinks he is, he can just…” She broke off uncomfortably. Angel was staring at her. “What?”
He held up the tattered and torn Watcher Diaries, his part of the search. “Oh,” she said. Then she reached down and pulled out the file labeled ‘William the Bloody, a.k.a. Spike’. “Found it. I told you I could handle filing cabinets,” she said as a triumphant grin spread across her face.
Angel smirked. “Good. That means I’ll expect you to do actual filing when we get back.”
She threw him a pout, then straightened and looked at the door. From her position in the room, she could see Xander walking towards the table where Buffy and Oz were seated. They all appeared deep in conversation, the previous outburst forgotten. A feeling of dread washed over her. She really didn’t want to face Xander at that moment. “Just breathe,” she said under her breath, hoping Angel didn’t hear her. He did. His eyes filled with understanding. She glared at him in return.
Cordelia was about to enter the library when out of nowhere, a bright light filled the room. “What-?” she began. Wind followed, so strong it almost knocked them over. Cordelia grabbed Angel’s arm to steady herself. She looked over to him only to see that his expression of confusion matched her own. He said something, but the light got brighter and the wind blew harder, so she couldn’t see nor hear him. It was hard enough just to stand. The file was forgotten and she clutched his arm with both hands, as if it were her lifeline to safety. She screamed, but the sound was lost in the surrounding chaos. Suddenly the world went black.
Buffy pressed on her temples and frowned. “Oz, we really don’t have the element of surprise. If we just bust in there, Spike’ll be all, ‘Gee, about time you guys showed up’. Then he’ll have us right where he wants us.”
“We’re kinda running out of options here.” Oz said. He had run a lot of ideas past Buffy, but she turned down every one he came up with.
“I know. What if we do something wrong and he kills Willow? Then what?” Buffy asked rhetorically. Then she rubbed her temples in frustration. “Great, now I have a migraine,” she mumbled. Normally, Buffy would be gung ho about busting in on Spike, but the addition of Willow into the equation really threw her off. As he walked towards them, Xander could see she was exhausted. Bags formed under her eyes, and she was more cranky and worried than she usually would be.
“If that was his plan, then she’d be dead already. I think he has an ulterior motive,” said Oz.
“A what?” Xander asked as he dropped the stakes onto the table. He pulled up a chair next to Buffy and sat down at the long table. It was obvious to him that neither of them had any ideas on how to get Willow back in one piece. The Slayerette felt his hope begin to fade. He would do anything to protect Willow, even if it meant risking his life to save her. But that would be a problem if he couldn’t get to her.
“An ulterior motive,” Oz repeated, then continued. “I think he has a reason for picking Willow, but I don’t think it’s the Slayer thing. That wasn’t really planned. Maybe it has to do with magic. Maybe it’s the prophecy, I don’t know. It could be anything at this point.”
“What could he possibly want Willow to do?” Xander asked. Suddenly, a bright white light appeared before them and a chilling wind entered the room. Xander frowned. Then he watched in awe as the winds grew stronger. Books were being caught by the gusts, their pages flying around. “I’m just gonna go ahead and pretend I didn’t say that,” he muttered. Strangely, the trio seemed to be in some kind of a protective circle. The chaos gained force around them, but none of them were affected. Still, Buffy’s hand rested protectively on his shoulder as they watched a funnel form around them. Suddenly, the light flashed brighter than ever, then darkness surrounded them.
“C’mon, wake up,” Spike urged.
The voice echoed painfully in Willow’s head and she groaned. “Noise bad,” she mumbled. “Go ‘way.” It didn’t work. The noise repeated, this time sounding angrier. She tried to ignore it, but the speaker was growling menacingly. She opened her eyes slowly. A very pissed off Spike stomped towards her, complete with game face. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping the image would go away. N
o such luck.
“Bloody hell, girl. What have you done?” he snarled. She remained silent, afraid anything she said would result in death. < Please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me, please don’t kill me… > She repeated the mantra in her head, hoping he would catch the ‘leave me alone’ vibes she sent his way. “I’m not going to kill you… yet. You got me in this mess, you better believe you’re going to get me out of it,” Spike continued irritably. < Oops. Must’ve said that out loud. Gotta stay quiet. Maybe he’ll get bored and go away. > “I’m not going anywhere,” he contradicted.
“Argh!” she cried out in frustration. Her eyes popped open and she glared at the vampire before her. “Can’t I keep any thoughts to myself?” The look he gave her in response was amused, to say the least. Willow wasn’t sure she wanted to know what he was thinking.
Her frustration faded and she watched him nervously as his expression firmed. “What did you do?” Spike asked her sternly.
This time, Willow could not avoid the question. She sat up slowly, her head still spinning from the spell casting. Her heart raced within her chest as she contemplated the idea of telling a lie. < I can’t do that. I’m a horrible liar. He would totally see right through that. > She decided to tell him the truth. “I didn’t send them to Hell,” she said quietly. Spike scowled at her, insisting that she continue. “I sent them to the Land of Magick,” she added, then continued sheepishly, “and I sorta brought us with.”
“And why did you do that?” he asked slowly. His hands shook and she could see he was trying not to go ballistic on her.
She hesitated, then said, “Well, I read the spell and saw that it would send them to Hell. I can’t do that to Buffy and Angel, especially for a psychotic vampire and his invisible girlfriend, no offense. So, instead, I sent them to the Land of Magick, where they would be much safer and easier to retrieve. I sent myself as well, ‘cause it’s impossible for me to get them to Sunnydale unless I’m here, too. I don’t know why you’re here. Only the three of us were…” Willow stopped when she realized she was babbling. Her gaze traveled from the floor up into the cold blue eyes of the vampire before her. She couldn’t read the emotion in those eyes, but it didn’t look good.
His next words came out slow and controlled, “You fainted. I caught you. Is that why I’m here?”
Willow considered his question, then nodded. “Yes. If one person physically contacts the person on which the spell was cast, he or she will also travel to the dimension.”
“Translation?” Spike asked impatiently.
“I cast, you touch, then poof--Welcome to another dimension.”
When Xander opened his eyes, he was alone. Groggy, he sat up and looked around him. “Woah, Dorothy,” he whispered in shock, “where’s Kansas?”
He sat on a path in the middle of a field. Flowers of all colors surrounded him, and they appeared to sway in a breeze he couldn’t feel. One end of the path led into a forest. Only it wasn’t your average bunch of trees. They towered over the field into heights unknown, the full extent hidden by the cluster of bright fluffy clouds that surrounded them. Xander stared into the forest, sure he heard singing from that direction. Then his eyes followed the path the other direction. At the other end of the path was a fork. Literally. Buffy was bent over the piece of silverware, trying to pull it from the ground.
“Buffy!” he called out. The Slayer stopped her struggle with the fork and turned to him. She gave him a nod in recognition, and walked over to the Slayerette. When she reached him, he said, “Hey, Buff, I don’t know where we are, but something’s bugging me. See these flowers?” he asked, and gestured to the field around them. “They’re dancing. See those trees?” His hand waved vaguely toward the clump of trees as he continued, his voice rising with hysteria, “they’re singing. We are definitely not in the library. And this,” he said, waving his hands frantically at both sides, “is not Sunnydale! I’m going to go ahead and say this isn’t good. I’ll even go out on a limb and say it’s really, really bad!”
Buffy watched him rant with incredible patience, waiting for him to finish. He could see her eyes didn’t’ have that ‘I’m gonna solve the problem and kick some butt’ look that gave him hope. “Lie to me, Xander,” she commanded softly. “Please, because I don’t know what’s going on right now.”
He paused, trying to think of a response. Then he looked her straight in the eyes and said, “This is all a dream. In reality, you’re passed out on some musty old book, trying to find the latest prophecy. Can’t you just smell the mold? Hey, get up. Giles is talking to you.”
“Liar,” she accused. She smiled faintly, looking a little better, then spoke again. “While you were asleep, I took a look around. This place is really weird. I’m not sure we’re even on Earth anymore.”
“So how do we make it go away?” he asked as he pulled his foot away from a pink, dancing flower. He frowned when he saw the uncertainty in her eyes. She said nothing, so he made an assumption. “We’re stuck here?”
The determination returned to Buffy’s eyes. “I don’t know, Xander. But I’m not about to wait around until we find out. First, we have to find out where the hell we are. Then maybe we can figure out the rest.” She looked around herself until she saw a road made of golden bricks. She pointed it out to Xander.
“Why do I feel like I’m in Oz?” he asked to no one in particular. Buffy smiled at the reference to her favorite movie and began walking down the yellow brick road, humming the movie’s theme song.
“C’mon, Toto,” she called behind her. Xander followed, trying to catch up when he suddenly grabbed her arm. She halted to a stop and turned to Xander’s panicked face.
“Buffy? Where IS Oz?”
Oz stood up and looked at the spot next to the table where Xander and Buffy had been previously sitting. “Wow,” he murmured softly as he looked around the room. The place looked like a tornado ripped through it. Technically, one had. The part-time werewolf ran a hand through his temporarily red hair and surveyed the damage. Some of the bookcases fell over due to the harsh winds, their contents spilled unceremoniously onto the floor. Books and pages were scattered around the room, blanketing the floor with thousands of ripped-out pages. Oz bent over to retrieve a book titled, “Cults and Mysticism of the 17th Century” when he heard the doors to the library open. He straightened and glanced back to see a startled Giles standing in the doorway. “Hey,” he greeted calmly.
“Oz, What happened here? Where is everyone?”
“They’re gone,” Oz replied simply.
Quoting Buffy, Giles said, “Can you vague that up for me, please?”
The part-time werewolf smiled, slightly amused after hearing Giles use such ‘slayer speak’. Then he explained, “There was a bright light. Buffy and Xander disappeared with it.” He bent over and picked up another book and continued, “Cordelia and Angel are in your office.”
“Out of nowhere, the Slayer and her friend just up and vanished?” asked Giles. Oz nodded.
Still confused, the librarian walked quickly towards his office and looked in. Muttering some Latin profanity under his breath, he turned back to Oz and shook his head. “I’m afraid they are missing as well.” Oz stared blankly at Giles, waiting for his guidance.
“Well, this wasn’t in the Codex,” he pointed out, stating the obvious. Oz said nothing. “I’ll have to consult my books,” the librarian mumbled, more to himself than to the boy before him. “There has to be some explanation to this.” He scratched his head, then walked into his office and began to pick up folders and loose papers that were lying on the floor.
Oz shook his head and pulled himself to his feet. “Doubt it,” he responded softly. It wasn’t often that Giles was confused. Whenever they were stuck in some new predicament or facing some monster, Giles would jump on it with some aforementioned prophecy. This time, the Watcher didn’t even know what happened after the fact. That terrified Oz, which to him was the equivalent of slightly nervous. He shrugged it off and followed Giles into the office.
Cordelia opened her eyes slowly, only to find herself blinded by a very bright light. “Ugh.” She threw her arm over her head and tried to block it out. “Where am I?” she muttered to herself.
“That’s currently unknown. Some kind of magical land.” The voice answered back. Cordelia frowned. < Since when has my mind talked back to me? And when did I become male? > “Xander?” she asked, confused.
“Cordelia, open your eyes,” the voice commanded. Not one to argue with voices from above, Cordelia complied. She looked up, squinting past the bright light, to see Angel staring down at her. His appearance was different to her, but she couldn’t figure out why. She sat up, propping herself onto her elbows, and inspected him.
Superficially, Angel was the same as always. He was adorned in the black clothing that was his signature, and his dark eyes still contained that unmistakable gleam of sadness and guilt that only a soul-filled vampire such as him could possess. Yet the rest of his expression was not so hauntingly sinister--for the first time since she met him, he was smiling. It made his whole face light up. She was about to comment on the difference the smile made, when she realized what it really was that made him look so different. It was the light above him that shone warmly upon the two. It was sunlight.
< Twilight Zone, much? > Cordelia found herself incredibly confused. “What happened? I thought you guys turned to dust when sunlight hit you.”
Angel’s smile faded as his expression became more serious. “Vampires do. But evil is not allowed access here. My demon was not allowed to enter. For now, I’m as human as you.” When he said the last sentence, he reached a hand down to help her up.
“Shouldn’t you be dead, then?” she asked bluntly.
He shrugged, unfazed, and said, “Probably.”
“That’s great, Angel,” Cordy responded in exaggerated cheerfulness. She didn’t understand how he was still alive without his demon when he was a member of the undead family, but chalked it up to good old-fashioned magic. She took his proffered hand and pulled herself to her feet. Her smile disappeared to be replaced with her usual look of annoyance. “Only one problem,” she said as she began dusting herself off.
“What’s that?”
The Slayerette’s eyes turned from her crumpled clothes to the vampire before her. “We’re still in another dimension. We have no idea where everyone else is. We don’t know how we got here. We don’t know how to get out of here. And on top of that, my clothes are wrinkled and my hair is never going to recover from this climate change!” Finished, she crossed her arms and proceeded to pout.
Angel shook his head and sighed. “That’s more than one problem,” he pointed out, then looked around them. Realizing that his attention was focused elsewhere, Cordelia did the same. They seemed to be standing on an oasis of sorts. The circular patch of land was a mile-wide, flat and sandy, then sank into a vast body of crystal clear water. It stretched for what seemed like an eternity then appeared to melt into the sky. It was like that all around, except for one side that collided with a towering mountain range. A castle sat on top of its highest peak.
“So is that our destination?” Cordelia asked, her eyes still pinned to the castle. In the corner of her eye, she could see a gold path begin to form from the edge of the sand, curling its way up the mountain, heading towards the castle.
“My instincts tell me yes,” he replied sardonically.
Cordelia didn’t catch his sarcasm and couldn’t see that his gaze was focused on the path. Therefore, his statement confused her immediately. “I thought you lost your instincts with the vampire thingy,” she said with a puzzled expression.
Angel shook his head again and grinned at her baffled observation. “Let’s go.”