Redone Fever Ch six

["Christeen Demons" <Shyfox30@xxxxxxxxxxx>]

Chapter Six: Dream convergence

And now the hands of time are standing still,
Midnight angel, won't you say you will...

We're running with the shadows of the night.
So baby take my hand, you'll be all right.
Surrender all your dreams to me tonight.
They'll come true in the end.

Pat Benatar

Buffy couldn't remember actually walking from Willow's room to the waiting 
room, but that was where she stood. Her mind had been too preoccupied with 
planning what she was going to do to notice little things, like nurses 
talking as they passed her in the hall, or
the steady hum of the electric lights overhead. The room's occupants didn't 
appear to notice her as she stood in the doorway, so she took a moment to 
gather her thoughts and try to calm her racing nerves. 'It looks really 
tense in there.' She thought, noticing the pervasive silence.

Except for the steady murmur coming from the television set, some news 
program, Buffy noticed, not a single word was spoken. Each showing more 
interest in the ugly brown carpeting than in current events. 'It's almost 
as if they're waiting for something.' Buffy
noted, as she watched Xander walk back and forth across the carpet, his 
hands on his hips, looking more worried then Buffy could remember seeing 
him...ever.

She cleared her throat and was instantly the center of attention. 'They were 
waiting for me.' She belatedly realized, feeling the anxiety in the room hit 
her from all sides. 'Probably afraid I'm bringing bad news. Surprise, 
surprise...I am.' Buffy thought, dismally.

"Honey...how's Willow." Joyce asked, rising from the hard, plastic chair 
that matched the others in the waiting room. The caring and concern in her 
mother's voice nearly crumbled Buffy's defenses, and she had to fight hard 
to keep them in place. 'I don't have time to
break down now.' She thought savagely, willing her mother to understand. 
She knew by the twitching of her mother's arms, the way she had taken a 
half-step forward, that her mother had wanted to give her a hug. Joyce 
apparently got the message, though, because she stopped, crossing her arms 
over her chest instead.

'Sorry mom.' Buffy thought, wincing at the hurt that had entered her 
mother's eyes. Buffy knew the distance she was erecting between them was 
causing her mother pain, but right now she just didn't have the luxury of 
letting herself feel it. 'I'm the Slayer. I have to stay
strong.' She reminded herself. 'Willow's life depends on it.'

"She's...she's...holding her own." Buffy said quietly, the doctor's words 
echoing in her head. 'I always hated when people said that.' Buffy 
thought, wryly. 'What does that really mean, anyway? That she's not dead 
yet.' She bit off that thought before it derailed her, and forced herself 
back on track.

"But the...the doctor's not sure how much longer she'll..." A lump rose in 
her throat, seizing control of her vocal cords and rendering her mute. Her 
hands clenched into fists as she tried to force back tears. 'I can't do 
this!' She thought desperately, almost in a panic. 'I can't...I can't say 
it. It's killing me!' She wanted to back out of the room. She wanted to 
run...wanted to hide...anything just as long as she wouldn't have to tell 
them...wouldn't have to actually say it. 'It's not fair.' She complained, 
her heart aching. 'I shouldn't have to be doing this. I shouldn't have to 
tell them that...' She shook her head. 'How can I tell them when I can't 
even think it.' She thought miserably, forcing herself to meet every
caring, worried face.

It was the look on Xander's face that got her talking again. The fear in 
his big brown eyes was palpable. 'He deserves to know.' She thought, 
wincing at her own selfishness. 'If anyone deserves to know...it's Xander. 
He's been her friend the longest.' With that in
mind, she forced herself to tell him...meeting his eyes square on. She saw 
every wince and every flinch...but she managed to tell him.

Xander sat down heavily, his legs giving out on him. "Then...that's it? 
The doctors are just giving up?" Xander asked, his hands clenching on his 
lap. He looked pale, his expresion wan, like he was going to be sick at any 
moment.

Sheila Rosenberg started sobbing in the background, but Buffy didn't really 
pay her too much attention. She did notice out of the corner of her eyes, 
that her mom went over to sit by her though, putting a comforting arm around 
the woman's shaking shoulders.

"They can't find anything wrong with her, Xander. It's hard to do anything 
when you don't know what's wrong." Buffy explained, as calmly as she was 
capable. And if there was just a twinge of hysteria in there? Well...it 
was well earned...wasn't it?

"There's more..." Buffy stated, tentatively, her stomach clenching.

Xander shook his head. "I don't think I can hear much more, Buff. I don't 
think I can take it." Xander admitted.

Anya put her head on his shoulder and patted his back, in an attempt to be 
supportive. She even supplied the 'there...there's'.

Buffy's stomach was clenching and unclenching so fast she felt like she was 
going to be sick herself. 'This is kind of like being on the 
Gravitron...only no where near as fun.' Buffy thought, feeling dizzy from 
the whirling emotions. "I don't really want to say it either, Xander." She 
admitted.

"Then don't...please." Xander pleaded, his eyes begged Buffy's.

"Let her finish, Xander." Giles commanded quietly from his corner. Buffy 
gulped, turning grateful eyes to her Watcher. He stared back at her, somber 
intelligence in his gaze...as if he knew what was coming without her having 
to say a word.

Buffy took a long breath, feeling her lungs expand as she held it in, then 
let it out slowly. The exercise helped her to feel calmer...that and the 
Watcher's steady, unwavering gaze. She looked at the man she trusted like a 
father and told him what needed to be said. "The
doctor...he...wants to do a C-section as soon as possible."

The room was quiet...too quiet. Buffy thought she heard somebody gasp, but 
other than that no one made a sound. 'It's like they're waiting for me to 
say something else...like...'April Fool's'...or 'You're on candid 
camera'...' She felt the need to fill the air with something so she kept 
talking. "He...he doesn't know if it will be successful...but he said he 
had to try...for the baby."

"Oh dear..." Giles said, sighing deeply.

"Oh...Buffy..." Joyce gasped.

Mrs. Rosenberg started crying harder.

"No." Xander said quietly, and out of all the reactions Buffy had heard, 
his was the only one that caught her attention. He was still sitting, 
staring blankly at his hands which were gripping his knees so tightly that 
his knuckles were outlined under his skin. He kept shaking his head back 
and forth like he was saying 'no' over and over again in his head.

"Xander?" Buffy asked, tentatively, her voice quivering.

Xander looked up slowly. His eyes were red, unfocused, tears falling 
steadily down his face. "How?" Xander asked softly, his voice thick with 
his tears.

"How could you let this happen? You were supposed to protect her." He 
spoke quietly, but his eyes shouted condemnation. "I trusted you."

The words hit her like a punch in the stomach, leaving her breathless and 
weaving on her feet. She hadn't expected this from him. 'I'd expect this 
from Mr. Rosenberg, he hates my guts...but Xander?' She felt betrayed, in a 
way she hadn't felt since Angel had turned on
her. It hurt...hurt a lot. She took a deep breath, letting it calm her 
emotions...before she said or did anything she'd regret. She knew Xander 
was hurting, and when Xander hurt he had the tendency to strike out...at 
whatever or whoever was most handy. "It's not my fault, Xander." She said 
quietly, not really convinced of the softly spoken words herself. "If you're 
looking for someone to blame...blame the witches behind this."

Xander dropped his eyes, his shoulders slumping. "But...but what are we 
going to do? We've got to do something...we can't just let her d-"

"I have no intention of just letting her die, Xander." Buffy said tightly. 
"I convinced the doctor to give me a little more time."

"Time? To do what Buffy?" Joyce asked, wondering what her daughter was
thinking...what plan was cooking behind those blue-gray eyes.

Instead of answering her mother, Buffy turned her attention to Tara, hope 
mixing unpleasantly with anxiety in her chest. Once she had come up with a 
plan, she wanted to do it as soon as possible. There wasn't any time to 
lose. She only hoped and prayed that Tara was as good a witch as she 
thought she was...otherwise, this plan would go up in
smoke faster than her old high school had. "Tara...were you serious when 
you said you wanted to help?" Buffy asked, seriously.

Tara nodded at once. "Ye-yes...please...I'll...I'll do anything." Tara 
said, her eyes open...pleading.

Buffy had the feeling that the blonde witch didn't know quite what she was 
getting herself into...but she would. As she started to explain her plan, 
pacing back and forth with an energy she couldn't contain, she watched the 
blonde witch out of the corner of her eye, noticing as her eyes grew wider 
and wider, her mouth dropping open in disbelief.

Buffy came to a stop in front of Tara, her arms crossed, visibly trying to 
rein herself in. "So...can you do it?" She asked, her voice hopeful yet 
tentative at the same time. She bounced lightly on the balls of her feet. 
"Can it be done?"

Tara looked pale...more than pale really, almost translucent. Her mouth 
opened and closed several times, without her uttering a sound. Buffy wanted 
to take the girl by the shoulders and shake the shock out of her, but she 
forced herself to wait. "W-Well...in theory..." Tara managed to croak, 
after she had liberated her tongue from the roof of her mouth.

"I-I mean...y-you are soul mates...so...so it should be easy to connect 
you." She said, gulping convulsively. "Well...really...I'd just be using 
the connection that's already there but..." She realized that she was 
babbling uncontrollably and forced herself to stop. "It
can be done...but..." Tara stopped, looking away from the Slayer.

"But what?" Buffy snapped, leaning forward into Tara's personal space, her 
eyes flashing fire. 'I don't want to hear buts right now.' she thought 
impatiently, actually hating the word. She felt like it was a barrier 
between her and her need to save Willow, and she felt
a physical need to tear her way through it. If her plan could work she 
wanted to do it now...right now...not tomorrow, not an hour from 
now...now...in fact, yesterday would be even better . "There are no 
buts...if you can do it...then do it."

"B-but it could be dangerous." Tara finished her explanation quietly, 
studying her hands that were twisting in her lap, unable to look up at the 
Slayer.

"To Will?" Buffy asked, a twinge of fear creeping into her voice.

Tara shook her head slowly, once again meeting the Slayer's eyes. 
"N-no...to you. They...whoever they are...could use that connection the same 
way we are...only...they'll be using it to get to you."

Buffy thought about that for a moment, then shrugged. 'What does it matter? 
If they're attacking me, then at least they'll leave Willow alone...won't 
they? They won't be able to attack both of us at once, will they?' She 
didn't know, but either way...she had to try. "I
don't care. They should have been messing with me to begin with...not 
Will." She stated, her mind focusing on the task ahead.

'And maybe,' Buffy thought to herself. 'I'll get a glimpse at who's doing 
this. So I can find them. And hurt them.' A memory of Willow, her breath 
shallow and weak, her face pale and covered in sweat flashed across the 
slayers mind. 'Hurt them lots.' she concluded grimly.

"I'm...I'm going to need some things." Tara said, breaking into the Slayer's 
thoughts, reluctantly.

Buffy nodded instantly, eager to get moving on this plan. "Xander..." 
Buffy turned her attention back to the Scoob, glad to see a bit of the old 
'Xander spirit' returning to his eyes. She needed a big dose of his optimism 
right about now. "..you and Oz...you're on supply detail. Get whatever she 
needs. I'll set up the room here."

"You got it, boss." Xander quipped, throwing her a devilish grin, thankful 
for something to do at last.

*****

It took some minor convincing, and a few steely glares, but she finally 
convinced the nursing staff to relinquish a spare gurney. Not her idea of 
comfort, but then again, that wasn't really the issue here...and it fit 
quite nicely between Willow's hospital bed and the wall...after she had 
removed some chairs.

Now all she could do was wait for Xander and Oz to get back with the stuff 
Tara had requested. She hated waiting. Hated it with a passion. She was 
action girl...something happened and she reacted. This waiting was 
devestating her.

She'd sat by Willow's bed, stroking the sweaty hair off of her forehead, but 
seeing her wife scream and writhe defenselessly, as if she were in actual 
physical pain, tore at her heart. There was nothing Buffy could do to ease 
the dream induced torture, and she hated feeling
so helpless. So, she paced back and forth in the quite cramped now, hospital 
room, twitching with nervous energy, and avoiding the concerned looks being 
thrown her way from her mother.

She could tell that her mother wanted to object to her plan. Her mother's 
eyes had widened impressively when Tara had started painting a pentagram 
between the two beds. Her mouth had opened and closed a number of times, 
before Joyce had released a worried sigh and sank onto one of the few 
remaining chairs, watching the preparation in silence.

Buffy had raised an eyebrow herself at the sight, knowing how odd the setup 
would look if a nurse just happened to breeze in. She wondered if she 
should have thought to ask Dr. Wiseberg to keep all medical staff away from 
the room, but then, that would have caused more curiosity than she wanted. 
She supposed she'd just have to post Xander as a guard outside the door.

Giles had disappeared shortly after she'd proposed her plan. He hadn't 
given any indication of what he thought of it, or of where he was going, but 
she could tell that he had been worried when he left. She hoped he was busy 
researching. Even if this plan worked, she knew she'd still have to face the 
witches in person, and she wanted to know what her options would be when she 
did.

A large part of her just wanted to find the witches and show them a new 
level of pain...Slayer-style. Bloody images filled her mind. Scenes where 
she took the witches apart gleefully, peice by peice. Every time she looked 
at her wife, saw how the redhead was visibly fighting for every breath she 
took...fighting for her very life...she envisioned a
new way to cause them pain. She could almost hear the slick snap of bone 
breaking, could almost see the bright gush of blood flying in her mind and 
she shuddered at just how grisly and visceral those visuals really were. 
She didn't know she was capable of that type of violence...until now.

'What would Willow think if she could see you now?' A part of Buffy's 
brain, a part she hadn't listened to since this whole thing began, whispered 
condescendingly in the back of her brain. 'Look at yourself! Pacing back 
and forth like a caged animal just waiting for
the chance to strike. Your hands clenched into fists...your mouth 
salivating. You can just taste the blood, can't you?! Do you really think 
Willow will love you if you follow through on any of that?'

"Hey Tara...those were some pretty expensive magic supplies you had us get." 
Xander complained when he walked into the room, breaking the hold her 
conscience had over her psyche.

"P-Powerful magic c-cost's alot" Tara said, shrugging apologetically as she 
took the supplies from Xander.

"It took you guys long enough." Buffy complained, hands on hips, glaring 
impatiently at the Scoobs.

"Hey, Buff. The Magic Box is all the way across town." Xander defended. 
"We went as fast as we could...honest." Buffy felt a stab of guilt at the 
injured look in Xander's eyes, knowing she was angry at herself and she was 
taking it out on Xander.

"I know." She said, quietly, not quite able to meet his eyes. "Sorry 
Xand."

"It's all right, Buffy." Xander said, placing a calming hand on Buffy's 
shoulder. He could feel the tension in her almost instantly, and nearly 
jerked his hand away, half afraid that in her present state she'd toss him 
across the room, but as they stared into each other's eyes, both seeing the 
worry and fear for Willow reflected there, some of the tension in her body 
eased. "She'll be all right, Buffy. Tara's going to do the mojo magic, and 
you're going to go in and save Will. It's a great plan. It won't fail." 
Xander said, convincingly, squeezing Buffy's shoulder for emphasis.

Buffy wasn't as confident in her own plan as Xander appeared, but she 
appreciated his effort. She nodded at him, forcing a bit of a smile for 
Xander's sake, before she turned her attention to what Tara was doing. She 
watched as the blonde witch set up five white candles, placing one on each 
point of the pentagram. Tara then started mixing the dried powders and 
herbs she had obtained into a silver bowl. Buffy didn't know what she was 
doing...she just hoped it worked.

Xander had grown quiet, except for the occasional coughing and shuffling 
noises she heard coming from his direction. It wasn't until Buffy heard him 
clear his throat in a most uncomfortable manner that she actually looked at 
him though, unsurprised to find him looking back at her. She couldn't tell 
what he was thinking, but the expression on his face told her that he wanted 
to say something, but that he was having a hard time finding the words. She 
raised an eyebrow at him in silent question, which seemed to spur him into 
actually talking again. "Um...Buff...about earlier..." Xander stopped, 
swallowing hard,
the muscles in his jaw twitching as his eyes pled with hers for forgiveness.

Buffy winced, sensing the apology in his tone. She dropped her eyes, her 
expression neutral, waiting for him to continue.

"Buffy...I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said what I did...I was being an ass." 
Xander admitted, staring at his feet.

Buffy shook her head. "Xander...it's okay. You were just upset."

"It doesn't matter how upset I was...am..." Xander stopped for a second, 
looking flustered. "The point is...I trust you Buffy, more than I trust 
anyone...I had no right to blame you...for any of this. It's just that...the 
thought of losing my best friend..." Xander gulped,
staring bleakly at the figure lying in the bed, wishing he could change 
places with her.

"I know." Buffy said, quietly, knowing exactly how Xander was feeling. The 
thought of losing Willow made her want to dig a big, dark hole, crawl into 
it, and wait for the worms to decompose her body. She shook her head, 
fighting off the negativity and looked at Xander again, who was still 
staring at Willow, like he was afraid she would disappear if
he took his eyes off of her. "But I'm not gonna let that happen. I'm gonna 
get her out of this, Xander. I promise." She vowed, seriously.

"I believe you Buffy." Xander said, looking at her, and Buffy almost choked 
at the amount of faith in his eyes. She only hoped she could live up to his 
expectations.

"O-okay." Tara said, finally, apparently finished playing around with the 
herbs. "I'm done. Y-you might want to lay down. This will affect you pretty 
fast...if it works at all."

"If?!" Buffy said sharply, glaring down on the shy witch. Tara flinched at 
the fear mixed with intense anger in the hazel blue eyes. She gulped, 
fearing for her own safety if she couldn't pull this off. "W-when it 
works." Tara corrected herself quickly. Buffy nodded
satisfied.

"Xander. Guard the door...don't let anyone in." Buffy said, before she 
went and lay down on the gurney, her face a blank of steely resolve. Until 
she looked at Willow, then her expression softened. "Hang on,Will." She 
said, capturing the redhead's face in her mind's vision. "I'm coming." 
Next thing she knew, she was gone.

*****

The echo of her high heels seemed to add to the sterilized air of the 
hospital hallway. The sound, clean, clear, precise and clinical. She came 
every Saturday and Wednesday. Her wife never came, it wasn't that Buffy 
didn't care, she just didn't like to be reminded. They had done the best 
they could, the both of them but..it just hadn't been enough. The pressure 
of being this generation's Vampire Slayer, not to mention the added power 
and responsibility of being a natural born witch had been too much for their 
daughter.

She tapped on the glass door lined with steel wires and waved to the 
security guard on the other side. He smiled in greeting to her, genuinely 
friendly. She thought his name was..Thomas something. After coming here for 
so many years she really should have known the staff's names by now. She 
supposed that, unconsciously, she didn't want to
become too familiar with this place...that not learning their names was her 
only way of distancing herself. She didn't allow herself to examine those 
thoughts too closely though. The door buzzed as the security lock disengaged 
and she stepped through.

A polite hello to 'Thomas' and then it was just her, the hallway and the dry 
echo of her foot steps. She knew where the room was by heart but she 
couldn't help counting the numbered doors. 
"Thirty-eight...thirty-nine...forty." She stopped outside the door to room 
forty. She glanced through the window at the figure within.

The girl was dressed in plain white pajamas and a straightjacket. Her long 
red hair hung dirty and unkempt. Oily strands glued to her forehead by their 
own filth. The ever-present dark circles under her eyes accenting the narrow 
glare of something more animal than
human.

'The straightjacket is new', the woman mused. 'She must have been bad since 
my last visit.' Pushing the button beside the door she spoke into the 
microphone. Willow Rosenberg-Summers talked to her daughter.

"Honey? Mommy's here."

*****

Buffy didn't know where she was at first..the surroundings unquestioningly 
unfamiliar. And yet...at the same time...she was having the strangest 
feeling of deja' vu. The decor was different, this wasn't the psych hospital 
in which she had been trapped in L.A. and yet,
she knew it was a psych ward in which she was walking through. The steel 
bars on all of the windows were a dead give away...that and the people in 
starchy white uniforms that floated down the halls like wraiths. They'd 
look at her, perplexed expressions on their faces, as if a part of Willow's 
psyche knew that she was an unknown phenomenon...something that didn't 
belong. But they didn't approach her, for the most part going about their 
business...leaving her alone.

'Why are they making Will dream about being in a mental hospital? As far as 
I know...she's never even been in one.' She thought, as she looked around 
in appalled amazement at the amount of detail in the dream...how 
surprisingly real it all looked...from the sickly green coloring of the 
walls, to the ugly beige coloring of the tiles under her
stockinged feet. The hard tile even felt cold, and for a brief moment she 
wished she had remembered to imagine herself wearing shoes. 'Maybe she's 
not. Maybe she's not even here...I mean, shouldn't I have seen her by now? 
Maybe I'm just asleep. Brain's so tired it slipped right past the spell and 
straight into dreamland.' She felt a second of fear at the the thought that 
might be a very real possibility.

Although...'This is definitely not a place I would have chosen to visit 
again. That's a memory better left buried.' She thought caustically, 
feeling slightly sick as her surroundings reminded her of a place and time 
she would have rather forgotten.

'I can't imagine Willow being here though...what possible reason would there 
be? Unless...unless she's dreaming that I've finally flipped my lid and 
ended up in the looney bin for real.' The way she was feeling at the 
moment, it wasn't a foregone conclusion. 'One of these days...one battle 
with the Hell mouth a little too much...' She shuddered at the 
picture...the thought of herself losing all of her faculties creeping her 
out way more than she wanted to admit. She banished the thought to the far 
recesses of her mind, determined to lock it away forever.

'Where are you, Will?' She sighed, her need...her ever present desire to 
see...talk to...even smell her wife leaving her frustrated, as she stared 
forlornly down the dimly lighted corridor that stretched on into 
forever...or so it seemed. 'And here I thought that it would be so 
easy...I'd just appear in front of her...do my little song and 
dance...attract attention from those witches...I'd knock their teeth 
in...then Will and I would wake up, go home and do a little hootchy lovin'.' 
Buffy rolled her eyes at herself.

'I can be such an idiot sometimes...I swear. I'm probably just dreaming. 
I'll wake up feeling slightly refreshed, but Willow will still be...hell she 
could even be dead by now, and I won't even know it until I wake up.' The 
oppresive darkness that came with that
thought nearly knocked her to her knees. She gasped, leaning over to catch 
her breath and shook her head vigorously to clear it.

'Stop it! This isn't getting you anywhere! You have to believe that it 
worked...that you're here...right now...in Willow's dream. You are going to 
save her, and that's all there is to it. There is no other option.' She 
told herself savagely, not raising her head until she made
herself believe it completely. Then she started walking, her gait 
determined, staring steadfastly down the corridor.

*****
"Oh dear. We have an intruder." Mabel piped up, from her spot near the 
simmering cauldron, the image reflecting through the steam. She sounded 
almost amused, causing the others to halt their discussions of crocheting 
techniques to stare, first at her, then at the bubbling cauldron.

"It's the Slayer!" Several of the other's gasped, mildly alarmed.

"Yes...it is." The oldest of them agreed, smiling serenely into the pot, as 
if she didn't have a care in the world. "Somehow she has found a way in."

"Aren't you just the least bit scared?" Mabel asked, her tone lightly 
curious.

"Pish posh." The oldest waved a dismissing hand. "We're so far beneath her 
notice she'd never dream to look in our direction. Besides, it's not as if 
we don't have some protection." Her eyes lighted in a mixture of awe, 
wonder and amusement. The others all
muttered and nodded in agreement.

"And besides..." She continued further. "Now that she's found a way 
in...we have a way to get to her." The saintly smile flickered...with just 
a hint of the devil underneath.

*****

The corridor she was walking down suddenly ended, leaving her standing, 
staring at a closed steel door. 'Well genius. What do you do now?' Buffy 
asked herself crankily, staring moodily at the locked door. It took her a 
while to notice a guard standing behind a counter through the plexi-glassed 
window in the door.

"Mrs. Rosenberg-Summers, I wasn't expecting you tonight." The guard 
greeted her jovially, startling Buffy completely. "Your wife has already 
gone on through. Funny she didn't mention you were coming." The guard said, 
his eyes looking over her in question, before he opened the door for her.

Buffy blinked at the man, not quite knowing what to say. 'He knows my name?' 
Buffy thought, incredulously. 'Will's subconscious must be working 
overtime to explain my presence.'

Buffy looked down the hall, seeing a long line of doors stretched before 
her. She looked back at the guard, an eyebrow raised in question.

"Room forty." The guard answered, as if he knew what she was going to ask 
him. Nodding blankly, she walked on with a determined step, her eyes 
tracking the numbers above the doors.

*****

Buffy followed the line of doors, counting the numbers off silently in her 
head. She had reached door thirty before she heard the slight murmuring 
sound coming from the corridor up ahead. The voice sent tingles all the way 
up and down her spine. It had been three, or
was it four...she had lost count of the long, weary, seemingly never-ending 
days since she had last heard her wife speak and she realized with sudden, 
blinding clarity that she had missed it...desperately. Willow was her 
lifeline...the one that kept her grounded. Her's
was the voice that filled Buffy with warmth, let sunshine into her life, let 
her breathe, and be and love...without it...without her...as corny and trite 
as it sounded...she was lost.

Her steps slowed as she let the voice wash over her, hearing the same warm 
and loving tones as she had heard that night, remembering how that voice had 
tickled her ear as they had laid there in the aftermath of their love, 
communicating small wonders and joys before sleep came to claim them. She 
had no way of knowing that hell would come to claim them
as they slept.

The voice became more distinctive as she came closer, becoming more 
intelligible, until soon she could make out what the woman was saying. Now, 
she could even see the form from which the voice came, standing still in the 
dimly lighted corridor, speaking to the occupant behind one of the doors. 
Buffy stopped, letting the shock overtake her.

Even from the side, the only part Buffy could see, the woman didn't look 
much like Willow, at least not like the Willow that she knew, age, had done 
nasty things to her wife, leaving the once straight back and shoulders 
almost slumped. The red hair was beginning to whiten on top and her hands 
were shaky and frail as they rested on the steel door. If it wasn't for the 
voice, Buffy didn't think she'd have ever recognized her...even if it did 
sound older and less vibrant than she remembered hearing.

Glancing up for a second, she could see the numbers above the door. Room 
40. Just as the guard had said.

"I'm sorry Buffy couldn't make it...she wanted to but...you know...she's 
just so busy...all the time." The voice finished in a whisper.

Buffy was so lost in examining her wife's form that she missed what Willow 
had been saying at first. 'Huh?' It took her brain several seconds to 
decode what her ears had been hearing. 'What?' She didn't think she liked 
the sound of that. 'I'm too busy to notice that Will looks and sounds like 
'Night Of The Living Dead'? What's up with that?' She wondered angrily, 
cursing herself before she remembered that this wasn't real...it was just a 
dream. It certainly felt real though. 'No wonder Will's having such a 
rough time.'

"I brought you a little treat. Maybe they'll let you have it when you get 
better." Willow said, forcing the melancholy out of her voice. Buffy's 
inate curiosity got the better of her and she crept closer, wanting to get a 
better look at who was behind the door.

It was hard to see past Willow's shoulder, considering even slumped Willow 
was still taller than her. It was even harder to see through the steel mesh 
into the little padded room. But for some reason, she could clearly make 
out the girl that was sitting crouched in the corner, wearing a 
straightjacket. Her features were clearly outlined. From the dirty, oily 
red hair, hanging in her face to the hazel eyes that swept the room, the 
glow of insanity shining from within.

Buffy had no doubt about the identity of the girl she was staring at, her 
face a perfect blend of the couple's best features, except twisted with the 
veil of insanity. "No." The gasp was out before she could stop it, too 
horrorfied to break her gaze from her daughter's eyes. She stared deep into 
the heart of madness feeling her own sanity slipping under the maelstrom.

'No, no, no...not my daughter...please not my daughter.' She pleaded, pain 
licking greedily at her heart, searing it with it's unmerciful flame. Her 
teeth clenched as a sudden rage overtook her. 'You bitches leave my 
daughter alone!' She thought fiercely, her hands curled into fists at her 
sides. She could have sworn she heard an evil cackle, but then her attention 
was forced away to a white faced Willow, leaning unsteadily against the door 
and staring at her as if she'd seen a ghost.

*****

"Will?" She heard the voice question her, she knew it was Buffy's and 
yet...that was impossible, wasn't it? Buffy never came with her. Buffy had 
shut her out a long time ago, too busy with work and organizing the new 
council to pay attention to such little things as
an insane child and a neurotic wife. And this one...this Buffy didn't look 
like she'd aged a day in seventeen years.

"Willow?" Buffy asked again, stepping closer, her voice shaky, as if she 
was the one who was lost and looking for answers instead of the other way 
around. Willow held up a hand, but whether it was to fend off Buffy's 
advance or to get her to stop talking she wasn't sure.

"Wh-what are you doing here?" Willow questioned the apparition, uneasily. 
"Yo-you never come here." She stated, almost accusingly.

"I...I came for you, Will. I always come for you, remember?" Buffy asked, 
uncertainly, feeling Willow's anger, guessing at the cause. She took 
another step forward, stopping only when she saw Willow was trying to burrow 
herself through the steel door. 'Okay...slow and easy.' Buffy coached 
herself, remaining where she was. 'She's been
through a lot...she probably doesn't know what to think right now.'

"Yo-you don't...you haven't." Willow shook her head, her voice a whisper.

Buffy once again cursed the witches and their spell. It wasn't bad enough 
that they were making Willow's dreamscape a land of nightmarish 
possibilities, but now it appeared they were having great fun in turning 
them against each other. "You remember when Angelus
came to the school and was going to hold you hostage?" Buffy asked, hoping 
to evoke real memories of when she had come to Willow's rescue. "Or what 
about the time I traded the box of Gavrock for you." She inched a step 
closer, relieved when Willow didn't try to back away. Doubt and confusion 
was evident in Willow's eyes, yet she didn't move.

"Remember when Faith kidnapped you?" Buffy asked, cringing as she saw the 
bad memories spring into Willow's eyes. She stepped closer once more until 
she was so close she could see Willow's nostrils flaring. It was so 
strange. She looked so different, and yet, it was the same Willow. The 
same Willow that she had become friends with, and fell
in love with, and married. She raised a hand, curious to see whether or not 
she'd be able to feel her in her dream. She closed her eyes, tears stinging 
them, when she felt the soft cheek beneath her fingers. "I came then, Will. 
And I'm here now...even if I am a little
late. I'm here."

Buffy thought she was reaching her, could have sworn she saw a softening in 
those misty green eyes. She was completely blindsided by the slap that 
seemed to come out of nowhere. She blinked, shock rendering her speechless, 
as her hand massaged the hot ache
Willow's hand had left behind.

"Don't, Buffy. You stopped coming to my rescue a long time ago." Willow's 
voice was sharp...harsh and its tone of disillusionment sent shards of ice 
scattering through Buffy's heart, hurting her more than the slap had. The 
litany that this was just a dream held no
comfort, as she saw the depths of pain Willow was drowning in. "So don't try 
to..." Her throat closed tight on the words she really wanted to say, too 
hurt and tired to argue the point anymore. "Just don't, Buffy. I'm not 
listening anymore."

Buffy didn't know what to say. For the first time since she had met the 
redhead her sophmore year, she really didn't know what to say to her. Sure, 
they'd had fights in the past. Fights where neither wanted to admit the 
other was right, or that each had valid points. And then there were the 
times when the pressures of the hellmouth had gotten to
be too much and they just exploded at each other. But that was different. 
Deep down they'd always known that somewhere inside the other was still 
listening...still caring...still feeling. They always knew, that when the 
current crises was over, they'd still be there for
each other.

This was different. Whatever reality Willow was facing in this dream had 
nearly sucked the very life right out of her.

'This is all my fault. I can't reach her and it's all my fault. I should 
have gotten here sooner.' Her shoulders slumped as she backed away, her 
eyes on Willow's spite-filled ones, as she felt the weight of her guilt from 
the past few days catching up with her. Ira
Rosenberg and Xander's accusations piled onto her own feelings of 
powerlessness and merged with the added weight from Willow's accusing stare 
for crimes she hadn't even really committed...but here in this place, they 
felt like they were real. So awfully real. And she gladly took the blame 
for each and every one. "I'm sorry." Buffy's voice was
small, her throat tight. "Will...I'm so sorry. I didn't know...how to...I 
tried so hard...I wanted to...but...I didn't know...what was going on...and 
I.." Her voice dwindled to a stop as she realized she didn't know how to go 
on. She sank to the floor, her back against the
opposite wall, her knees pulled up to her chest as she hugged them tightly.

"How?" Willow asked, her forehead furrowing in confusion. This was not the 
picture she expected. Her Buffy was strong, indifferent...unyielding. She 
had made her needs and wants known quite clearly. The need to be left 
alone...the need not to be bothered with
what she knew Buffy thought had all been a big mistake. A waste of her 
years...and her talents. This Buffy sitting before her looked 
so...small...crushed...as if she had been battling the Big Bad for 
seventy-two hours and had come out the other side...defeated.
"How could you not know, Buffy? I've been coming here twice a week for the 
last two years!"

"No...you haven't." Buffy said, meeting her eyes square on as she shook her 
head in quiet denial.

"How can you say that?! Like it's not true!" Willow asked, crossing her 
arms over her chest...trying to protect herself from this Buffy who got 
through her defenses somehow...who made her want to listen...made her want 
to care. It was her memories of the way Buffy really was that held her 
back...helped her to remain strong. "I think I would know if I'd spent the 
last two years visiting our daughter...locked up...in this hellish place."

'This spell is so strong!' Buffy thought in frustration, rolling her head 
against the hard metal it rested on. 'How do I break through that to make 
her see?' "That's just it Will. It is hell...operative words...Hell mouth." 
Willow was staring at her, but she wasn't sure she
was seeing her. She was looking at her as if she were examining her, 
measuring her up...and finding her lacking. Buffy didn't know if her words 
were having any sway whatsoever. Given the fact that Willow was looking at 
her as though she were crazy, she somehow doubted she was.

Buffy was tired of waiting...tired of being patient...tired of being 
passive. She wanted results. She wanted her wife back. She jumped up, 
grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her, not hard, just hard enough to 
jostle her a little...to gain her attention. "Willow!
Look at me!" Buffy shouted at her wife, then blinked disconcertedly as howls 
of rage erupted from her daughter's previously quiet padded cell room.

Buffy's eyes darted briefly to the barred window. She noticed her daughter 
pulling against the restraints, Hazel eyes filled with madness locked on 
hers, and she cringed at the sight. But she couldn't stop now. 'I have to 
reach, Willow.' Buffy thought feverishly, her eyes
darting back to the cool green eyes looking back at her, doubt palpable 
through every feature of the redhead's face. 'Any way I have to. Even if 
she does think I'm crazy.' She concluded the thought, grimly.

"Buffy...stop it." Willow said the words calmly, but Buffy could tell she 
was angry, and there was a thin line of danger...or warning behind them as 
well.

"No! Not until you listen to me! Not until you hear what I came here to 
say!" Buffy stopped suddenly when she felt the hair on the back of her neck 
stand straight up. Willow's eyes had turned stony, her irises completely 
disappeared leaving only the pupils as a wave of magical energy built in 
her, then Buffy felt herself being flung back hard
against the wall. She felt the connection all the way up and down her 
spine, her head seeing stars as she slid bonelessly to the floor.

'Note to self...never...ever grab and shake a pissed off wiccan.' Buffy 
reminded herself, wryly, as she looked up at Willow in a daze, breathing 
heavily.

"Say what you've got to say, then leave. I don't think either of us want 
you here." Willow said, crossing her arms over her chest. The over-excited 
shrieks coming from their daughter seemed to echo her wife's sentiment.

That hurt, more than anything that had come before...but she wasn't about to 
give up. "Willow, look...I know that this is hurting you...I know you've 
been through a lot. And I'm sorry for that." Buffy said, holding up her 
hands in a placating gesture. "If I could find a way to stop it I 
would...and I will...you just have to give me time. But you have to 
realize...that this isn't real. None of this is real."

Willow shook her head slowly. "Are you insane? You are...aren't you? All 
those years on the hellmouth have finally made you go bonkers. You should 
be locked up in here with our daughter...seperate rooms, of course."

Buffy sighed in frustration, then shook her head. "No...Willow look at me. 
Really look." She said, from her slumped position on the floor. "Do I look 
like I'm old enough to have a teenage daughter?!" Buffy gestured wildly at 
the steel door.

The words made Willow stop and actually think. Because those words were the 
only thing that had actually made sense...in a strange, bizarre kind of way. 
Buffy did look like she hadn't aged a day since...well...since before 
their daughter was born. "I...I don't get it." Willow shook her head, her 
eyes full of skepticism.

"You're dreaming, Will. This is just one big, mixed-up, crazy, 
real-feeling, psychotic dream." Buffy said, in one large breath. "The last 
time I looked at you..." Buffy took a breath, remembering in a flash the 
last seven months of Willow's pregnancy, and how radiant and beautiful she 
had been in every stage. "...you were seven months
pregnant...beautiful..." Her voice held a large dose of awe and not just a 
little bit of pride. An image of Willow, sweaty and still in the midst of 
her comatose state flitted across her mind, and she couldn't help emitting 
her pain to the redhead. "...but comatose." She
finished in a whisper.

"S-Something's gone...hor-horribly...wrong." Buffy couldn't help the tears 
that flooded her eyes, or the way her voice quivered. She looked away for a 
moment, resting her head on her knee, as she tried to get herself back under 
control. She had no way of knowing that seeing her that vulnerable...to the 
point of almost falling apart, was exactly what Willow needed.

Buffy lifted her head when she thought she could safely look at Willow 
without breaking down. She could still see the doubt swirling in Willow's 
eyes, but she could also see something else. A faint softening of the lines 
around Willow's face...a flicker of life to the
cold stone eyes...all signs pointing to a renewel of something Buffy was 
starting to wonder if she'd ever see in Willow's eyes again. Trust. It was 
a minor glimpse really, but it was enough. "I came inside your dream to 
help fix it." Buffy explained, relying on that
minor glimpse of trust to help her through.

"I don't...I don't understand." Willow frowned a furrow growing on her 
brow. Buffy wanted to kiss it away, but she knew now wasn't the time. That 
and she didn't want to risk being magically thrown again. She knew Willow 
was still confused...battling between her dream reality and the reality 
Buffy was telling her about. "How Buffy?"

Buffy smiled, relieved that she was finally seeing a glimmer of her Willow 
in those green eyes. She started to sit up straighter, stopping when she 
felt the twinge in her back. "Ouch." She winced, rubbing at the spot 
ruefully. "You're getting really good at that magical throwing thing Will. 
Remind me never to piss you off in real life...okay?" She asked 
rhetorically as she stretched letting her spine pop back in place. She 
rolled her neck on her shoulders hearing it snap, crackle and pop as it 
realigned itself.

Willow watched her warily, still unsure whether she believed her or 
not...but she definitely seemed like the real article...of course, she 
supposed she could be from another dimension. "Do me a favor?" Buffy asked, 
gentle humor in her tone, and a wicked gleam in her eyes.

Willow couldn't help but wonder what she was thinking. "What?" She asked 
cautiously.

'Promise me you won't do that to me when you're in labor?" The question was 
asked in a wry tone, but Willow could sense real feeling behind it, as if 
Buffy really dreaded that she might do that to her some day. As if this 
Buffy really, truly believed that the event of their baby's birth was in 
their future, not in their past.

As that realization sank in, Willow realized the truth for the very first 
time. The truth that was staring her in the eyes the whole time. And then 
she realized what she had done. "Oh Buffy...I'm sorry." She said, kneeling 
beside her, worry written clearly on her face.

The relief on seeing Willow's belief flooded Buffy's body, leaving her 
feeling weak as a kitten. "It's all right, Will. It's not like I don't get 
manhandled in my day job...or is that night job?" She asked herself, her 
tone glib...that is until she saw the pain and remorse in
the green eyes...then she became more serious. "It really is okay 
Will...this all must be very confusing for you. It's pretty confusing for 
me too." She admitted, gently, carefully and slowly bringing her hand up to 
trace her wife's face, reveling in the softness of it.

"This dream is really strange...I didn't think I'd be able to feel anything 
in here." Buffy murmured, getting sidetracked.

Willow raised a russet brow at her. "Buffy..." Willow murmured, knowing 
her wife was getting distracted, in a pleasant way...but still...she needed 
answers.

"Sorry." Buffy grinned, not in the least bit repentant. "Long story 
short?" Willow nodded. "We live on top of the hell mouth." Buffy 
responded cheekily, drawing a narrowed eyed look from her wife.

"Buf--"

"Okay...okay..." Buffy said, drawing the redhead into her arms, not just 
because she wanted to be close to her, but because it was easier to whisper 
in her ear this way. She felt a slight resistance to her pulling, but was 
gratified when the resistance melted away. "I'm
not sure how much I can tell you without giving too much away to people I 
don't want knowing about it...I think they're watching you, Will."

"Who?" Willow asked, pulling slightly away from her, looking at her as if 
she thought she might be crazy after all.

"The witches." Buffy mouthed, silently, before pulling her into another 
hug. "They cast a spell on you, Will. One that made you really sick. 
You're in the hospital with a fever so high the doctors...well...what do 
doctors know?" Buffy was whispering so lightly Willow could barely hear 
her, and yet she could feel the worry and anxiety practically radiating off 
of her spouse.

"And the dreams?" Willow questioned, not really sure that she wanted to 
know anymore.

"Well, I think the dreams are what's really k-" Buffy stopped, swallowing 
convulsively. "I mean, they're what's really making you so sick."

"This is really bad, isn't it?" Willow asked, meeting Buffy's eyes with her 
own, and for the first time Buffy saw Willow, all of Willow shining through 
at her.

"Yeah. It kinda is." Buffy answered, swallowing hard. "But don't 
worry...I'm gonna get you out of this."

"How?" Willow asked, then quickly kept talking before Buffy could get a 
word in edgewise. "No- not that I'm doubting you or anything...but 
really...how? I mean...you're not a practicing witch or anything so..."

Buffy grinned softly. 'Yeah, that's the Willow I remember.' She thought, 
losing herself in the quiet babble. "Well...the plan was for me to attract 
attention to myself. If they are watching, they must have noticed my 
presence by now."

"Okay...well...then what?" Willow asked, her brow crinkling. Buffy still 
thought the gesture was cute.

"I figured I'd figure that part out when I got to it, Will." Buffy admitted, 
quietly, knowing Willow wasn't going to like it one bit.

"But...Buffy..." Willow started to protest, and Buffy wrapped her arms 
stronger around Willow's back.

"It will be okay, Will. I promise. I'm going to get you out of this." She 
said, kissing her wife gently, she felt their bodies press closer together, 
and for some strange reason she snorted, breaking the kiss as a gentle 
chuckle erupted from her.

"I'm sorry...I'm sorry." Buffy defended, when she saw the hurt look on 
Willow's face. "It's just, I'm used to being poked in the gut when we do 
that. I kinda miss the baby being down there."

Willow smiled mistily at the sentimentality in Buffy's voice and moved in 
for another kiss, only to be jolted away by what sounded like something 
being hurled at the steel door on the opposite side of the hall. They 
turned their heads as one to watch in horror as their
redheaded offspring hurled herself bodily against the door.

'What is she doing?' Buffy wondered in horror, as she watched her redheaded 
offspring fling herself over and over again at the door. She wasn't worried 
for or Willow's sake, she was pretty confident that if her daughter managed 
to break down that steel door, she could handle her. No, she was more 
worried for her daughter's sake, throwing herself over and over again at the 
unpadded steel door, had to be causing her damage.

"the eyes...the eyes...the eyes..." It took Buffy a few seconds to notice 
that her daughter was actually muttering words in between hurling herself at 
the door.

"the Eyes...The Eyes...The Eyes..." Chills erupted up and down Buffy's spine 
as she heard the words repeated, getting increasingly louder every time her 
daughter said them. A crack was starting to form in the window in the steel 
door, spreading across it like a spider's web every time her daughter rammed 
herself against it. She saw a red welt starting to form on her daughter's 
forehead, from hitting her head against the steel etched pane.

"The Eyes...THE EYES...THE EYES..." Now their daughter was screaming, 
blocking out the sound her body made as it hit the door and Buffy watched, 
fear mixing with the surrealistic knowlege that this was just a dream, as 
the crack in the window got wider, blood starting to smear across the pane 
from the now profusely bleeding forehead. She
couldn't even begin to know what to think, or what could have possibly set 
her off, until she noticed where her daughter was staring and looked up 
toward the ceiling of the corridor.

Staring down at her were a pair of the oldest eyes she'd ever seen. They 
met hers with an ancient, wicked intelligence and she lost herself in the 
swirling flecks of gold and green within feeling herself being engulfed, if 
not figuritively, then metaphorically in the glare
until all she could see was the black of the pupils...and then...once 
again...Buffy was gone.



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