Spike had to stop several times to circle back and pick it up again. First, it led him directly towards Main Street; as it veered away into a deserted side street he picked up the pace until he finally stopped in front of a dark alleyway.
“That’s funny. It stops here like it’s been cut with a knife.” Spike frowned as he turned to the girls. “Glinda, can you feel anything here? Maybe a trace of magic?”
Tentatively, Tara approached the spot, her hand stretched out in front of her, eyes closed, as she quietly turned from right to left. “There are strong emanations of dark energy. It’s like a wall, only it doesn’t have any feeling of depth. It’s as if a barrier or a sheet of glass is there, retreating whenever I come near.” Her voice was hesitant, whispering, while her hand caressed the air in front of her.
“Maybe if I command it…” Suddenly she pressed her fingers forcefully into the air and ripples of dark brown light spilled out from beneath them. The image of a door appeared, unclear and wavering as if seen through the surface of a rippled pond.
“Gotcha! What’s it, Glinda? Can you open it?”
Spike stepped nearer and hesitantly pressed his index finger onto the glimmering surface. His fingertip was stopped inches before touching the hidden door and angry lightning sparks flitted over the surface of the barrier.
“Giles’ report talked about a doorway, a portal into another dimension, where this warlock lives. We need that report, and pronto.” Buffy pulled a mobile out of her pocket and dialed the Watcher’s number.
“Modern technology, huh, luv? That’s neat. Can I get your number?” Spike shot her a sexy grin.
“Moron, of course you can. Just got it yesterday, now that I’m not broke anymore. Actually you should get one yourself.” Buffy held up her finger to forestall more conversation.
“Hi, Giles! We have a situation! Dawn’s missing and Spike has tracked her to a portal… Yes, a portal! Tara made it visible… We think it has something to do with Willow… Yes, we think so too… Take your notes and come here as quick as possible, it’s 1313 Cola Avenue… Wait, grab some weapons, I’ve got a feeling we’ll need them and we’re unarmed, if you don’t count the stakes and fangs… Alright, bye!”
She briskly closed her phone. “He’ll be here soon and he’s bringing the notes about this Rack guy. Tara, can you step back a bit, but still keep the doorway visible?”
The witch nodded and sighed. “Oh, Willow, what have you done now?”
Buffy focused the flashlight’s beam steadily on the sheet of paper as Giles chanted the incantation that was supposed to open the doorway to the warlock’s office. Spike watched her, shifting restlessly, eager to jump into action. Over Buffy’s shoulder hung a huge sword; he and Tara were each armed with an ax.
Dark syllables echoed in the archway as the outline of the door grew brighter and more solid until it finally opened with an eerie creak. Cliché much? Spike eyed the opening cautiously and wrinkled his sensitive nose. Stale, mildew-laden air streamed out, but he could also detect traces of Dawn and the witch.
“They went in there,” he confirmed. “Can’t be sure if they’re still there, though. Sorry, luv”.
Buffy drew her sword and signaled the others to follow. “Giles, Tara, would you watch out for magic? We might need some nifty counter-spells, so keep your wands or whatever ready.”
As Giles and Tara nodded their agreement, Buffy turned and went through the doorway without further hesitation. Tara adjusted her grip on the ax, swallowed, and followed behind Giles. Goosebumps ran over Spike’s skin as he stepped through the barrier, covering the rear. He hated magic, so why did he always get involved in it?
The hallway was dark and deserted, but when Buffy opened the door at the end, bright light flooded out, momentarily blinding them. The stench was incredible, worse than a garbage can after days of summer heat. The scent carried the odor of scarred flesh combined with burned rubber and seaweed, mixed with the coppery, metallic smell of fresh blood.
Following Buffy’s hand signal, Spike stepped to the front and surveyed the thrashed room. Willow was lying on the scorched carpet, bleeding from her nose and ears. A stranger was bent over her.
“Step away from her!” Buffy’s voice was level and commanding.
The man straightened and looked at them with bloodshot, mad eyes. Then he started to giggle, a high pitched, eerie sound which bounced around the ruined room. Bits of burned flesh rained down from the ceiling which was covered in a black crust of singed tissue.
“I said, step away!” Buffy tried to cut through the madness. “Are you Rack?”
“Rack? Who calls me?” The warlock choked between fits of giggles. “She ruined everything, arrogant bitch. Had to meddle, didn’t she? Had to hurt Him! But my Master’s not dead, not so easy, no.”
He shook his shaggy head, his eyes focusing on the group. “Meddling friends, she told me. Intervening, accusing, taking the fun out of her magic. She was always complaining. Helped her wipe the slate. She thought she was in control! Stupid bitch! She? In control?” His giggles bubbled, and popped, and foam spilled out of the corner of his mouth.
His mouth contorted into a lopsided grin, showing yellowed teeth. “She brought Him a present, that first day, full of green energy. He promised me new dimensions, new customers in exchange for it. So I made her bring it here. Now, look what that bitch has done to Him! Helped it to escape - it just vanished after stepping through that door. How did it do that? Nobody leaves here against my will. He was so angry. She ruined everything!”
Rack’s voice had grown louder and more furious during his sermon. Suddenly he pointed his hand up to the ceiling and howled. “Wake up, Master! I hold You to our contract!”
The scorched matter on the ceiling started to heave and roll like living waves of flesh. A huge eye half opened, oozing yellowish slime, and fresh, pink tendrils broke through the black, scarred surface. Without hesitation, Buffy and Spike attacked the groping appendages.
Buffy’s sword barely reached to the ceiling and left only shallow cuts which dripped dark slimy blood down on her. With a frustrated huff, she changed her grip on the hilt and threw it dead center into the eye.
The creature let out a creaking, rusty cry, which rubbed like coarse sandpaper at their nerve endings. A whirling maw opened in its middle, sucking more and more of the matter into it until, with a final snap, the abyss closed. Only flakes of blackened skin and scorched plaster remained, snowing down on them like a macabre blizzard.
“Shit, it ate my sword. That was my favorite,” Buffy muttered to Spike.
Buffy and Spike were still staring at the ceiling, transfixed. Rack let out a desperate cry as he grabbed the broken leg of a chair and began to wield it like a club. He stepped toward Willow, raising the leg high over his head.
“You’ll pay for it, bitch!”
His eyes suddenly widened in shock, a gush of blood spraying out of his mouth; then his eyes glazed over. Rack slumped forward, falling with a deafening thud onto the floor, an ax deeply embedded between his shoulder blades.
“Nobody messes with my girlfriend!” Tara glared down at the prone figure.
“Nice axing, Glinda.” Spike shot the white witch an approving glance.
Tara blushed while she hurriedly bent down to examine Willow. “She’s alive and I can’t see any wounds. Willow, sweetling, can you hear me?”
She gently rocked the redhead but Willow’s head rolled lifelessly. Tara looked up at her friends in despair.
Giles grabbed Spike’s arm. “Can you take Willow and Tara to my car? It’s best if we bring her to my apartment. I’ll make sure that Rack was truthful and that Dawn’s no longer here.”
Half an hour later, Willow was securely tucked into Giles’ guest bed with Tara rooted to her side. Willow hadn’t regained consciousness yet, but they all had agreed that it wouldn’t be wise to bring her to the hospital as long as her vitals were still strong. Anyway, it would be impossible to tell the authorities anything substantial about her condition and they didn’t have time for twenty questions.
Giles had performed a locator spell for Dawn with no results. Wherever she was, she was either hidden or too far away for the spell to connect to her. Neither option was very reassuring.
Spike sat on the steps and watched as Buffy paced the living room of the small apartment. Neither of them could resist glancing toward the table, where a wooden bowl held the two black crystals they had found in Rack’s office.
Spike eyed them with suspicion. God, how he hated magic, always messing around with his head. “Let’s just get over with it!”
All eyes turned to him questioningly.
“Oh crap, smash them, grind them to dust or whatever it takes to break the damn spell. No good staring at the soddin’ things all day. They’re either for us or not; no sense in stalling.”
Yeah, right. He just hoped that they wouldn’t crash his hopes too. What if Buffy just gave him his crumb because of a spell? What if a smashed crystal would put him back into his old place, outside, alone in the dark, a disgusting monster?
Giles looked down at his notes again. “Spike’s right. I won’t find anything else useful in here. I’ve gone over it several times already. Buffy, how do you think we should do it? Both at once or one after the other?”
Buffy picked up one crystal and eyed it suspiciously for a moment. She held it in the palm of her hand tentatively before she suddenly turned her wrist, letting it drop to the ground. She stepped on it deliberately, the heel of her boot crunching it into tiny particles. When she looked over to Giles and Spike, she shook her head. Nothing had happened.
She picked up the next one and broke it to splinters. This time, images flashed behind Spike’s eyelids and anger rose like bile in this throat.
“Red!” he bellowed.
Buffy looked to him, her eyes dark with fury. “Oh my God! Dawn! She nearly got Dawn killed! That’s what really happened on Halloween.”
Buffy turned to Giles who had slumped down in his armchair.
“I’m sorry, Buffy. I now remember the talk we had about Willow’s use of magic. You were obviously right. This explains how Rack knew of Dawn. That’s what he meant as he said, ‘Willow brought a present’.”
Giles plucked his glasses off his nose. “But I am sorry to say that this doesn’t help us to find Dawn. If what Rack told us is true, and I believe it is, once she went out the door she left his domain. Since Rack controls all exits, she should have stayed contained within his boundaries.”
Giles stared at his hands, fiddling with his glasses, and frowned. “Let me see – on her first visit she could also leave on her own. Most peculiar. Both times she must have been highly agitated.”
He looked at Buffy with alarm.
“The Key!” they both exclaimed.
“Huh? Wanna keep me in the loop here?” Spike stood up and walked over to Buffy.
Under the scrutiny of her watcher, she turned to Spike and took both of his hands. “When Giles was in England, he did research on the Key for me. I needed to know what was happening to Dawn. He didn’t find much, but what he came up with supports our theory that Dawn might still be the Key, only, you know, without a specific lock.”
Spike stared into her eyes, seeing fear and concern reflected in them. He had to admit, it sounded like a valid theory. But if Dawn could still open dimensions, how would they find her when she was so obviously lost?
“Dawnie could be anywhere. How can we possibly find her?” Buffy’s voice was distant and flat.
Buffy’s face was growing still, her cheek muscles tensed, and her mouth was a bitter, thin line. He too vividly remembered how Buffy had gotten lost in her mind when Glory had kidnapped Dawn - she’d had the same look then. Red had brought her back; only this time, there was no witchy friend to help. He slipped his right hand out of her grasp and her arm fell lifelessly to her side.
“Luv, don’t.” Gently, he placed two fingers under her chin and lifted her head. “Stay with me, don’t give up, let me help you. Bit’s a clever one; she’s tough - runs in the family. She’ll fight to find a way back to us and we’ll do whatever we can to find her. I know you’re frightened for her. Bloody hell, I am too.”
Her eyes welled up and a tear slid down her cheek. Tenderly, he brushed the drop away with his thumb. “Let it out, pet, you’ll feel better. Get your head clear.”
He pulled Buffy into his embrace and she complied with a sob, tears running more freely. Over her head he stared defiantly at her watcher. To his surprise he saw only concern in Giles’ face, and a shadow of speculation. What he didn’t see there was disgust or rejection.
“We’ll find her, luv, we will,” he murmured soothingly.
Spike could feel her trembling in his arms. With her tears, the tension was running out of her body. He swept her off her feet and sat down on the couch, Buffy on his lap. She curled into him, her head on his shoulders, her face pressed into his neck.
“We’ll find her,” he repeated into her ear. “We’ll turn over every stone to get her back. And don’t forget, Niblet’s a clever girl, just like you. She knows we’ll come for her.”
Trustingly, she was laying in his arms; he wouldn’t let her down.
He looked up at Giles. “Who knows about inter-dimensional travel?”
Giles cleared his throat and ran his hand through his graying hair. “The Council normally consults a specialist in Burma. He’s a monk, living in the Ananda temple, a Buddhist monastery near the Irrawaddy River. But he is difficult to contact since the monastery has very limited telephone access. It would take hours to get through to him.”
Spike sighed. “Bugger, what help’s a specialist, who’s living on the bloody other side of the planet? We need someone now.”
He looked down into the desperate eyes of his love. They had to find a way to locate the Bit. If he thought about her, somewhere out there all on her own, his stomach cramped in fear.
Suddenly an idea bloomed in his mind. “Bloody hell, what an idiot I am! Why don’t we ask demon-girl? She’s lived much longer than me and must know lots of people - demons - who might be of help. As a vengeance demon, she must have traveled through a few dimensions herself.”
“Finally, someone appreciates me.” Anya sent a flirtatious smile at Spike.
He could see Buffy glowering at Anya. His Slayer had this ‘hands off my man’ look. Was she jealous? That was gold, that was. But he knew he shouldn’t push his luck, so he carefully composed a neutral face.
“Ahn! You know that I appreciate you!” Xander protested.
“You appreciate my knowledge in sexual practices and how to increase your stamina, Xander. I meant the appreciation of my mind, my expertise.”
Xander spluttered some unidentifiable noises and wisely decided against further comments. He glowered at Spike, who openly smirked at Xander after that juicy bit of information.
“Anya, do you know someone who can track down Dawn’s location? Please, we have to hurry. We don’t know where she is and she might be in danger…” Buffy choked on the thought.
Anya looked at her with sympathy. “There is an oracle - that would be the best way to describe it. It’s monitoring the fluctuations in temporal and space dimensional crossovers. It’s accessible from all dimensions, so we don’t need to travel far to reach it. The location here in Sunnydale would be – wait a minute.”
Anya knit her brows and ticked off her fingers. “Yes, today it would be in the alley behind the Bronze.” She beamed at Buffy. “I can bring you there. Its price has to be paid in bars of iron.”
Noticing the stares she got, Anya shook her head. “What? Of course it has a price. Would you work for nothing? Gold isn’t a precious metal in every dimension, you know. Good for us that he wants iron and not uranium or the egg of a Phoenix; those would be more difficult to come by so quickly. These differences in currency make trading across dimensions so much more profitable. We should look into it, Giles.”
“Anya, do you really have to go with them?” Xander asked anxiously. “Giles, isn’t that too dangerous for her?”
“Xander, they’ll need me! I’ll have to negotiate the payment. Why do you have to spoil my fun?” Anya pouted. “Buffy and Spike will go searching for Dawn. God knows how long they’ll be away if I don’t help. Can you even imagine how much work it is to plan our wedding? I’ll need the help of my Maid of Honor.”
She scowled at her fiancé. “Wait! If this is a trick by you to prevent Spike from stripping at my bachelorette party…”
“Ahn! Of course not!” Xander tried to mend the fence.
Anya looked unconvinced and briskly turned around to Buffy. “Anyway, we need to get Dawn back. She’s the flower girl for my wedding. If she stays too long in another dimension, she might grow too old for that. There are no other children …”
“Wait, Anya, what do you mean by ‘grow too old’?” Buffy looked at Anya with alarm.
“Oh, I mean, that Dawn might be in a dimension where the time flows faster than here. The timelines aren’t synchronized in all dimensions. For example, a minute here might be an hour elsewhere, or the other way around. In some dimensions the time even flows backwards, so you start as Methuselah and die as a baby. Which is annoying, when you have all those X-rated memories and aren’t allowed to have orgasms anymore. No way to tell what the temporal effects are, since you don’t know where Dawn is. But we should hurry, just in case.”
Anya turned to Giles. “Do you have iron available? Preferably iron bars, but it can also be cast iron, reinforcement steel or any other implements of iron. Not stainless steel though.”
“I’ve several cast iron weight disks for my dumb bells. They fit your specification. I don’t use them anymore, but they must be still around somewhere in here.” Giles bent down and opened the doors of his cabinet and rummaged through the lower shelves.
“I’ll pack a bag with weapons and some supplies. Blankets, water, some food, first aid kit. We don’t know how long we’ll be away and what condition Dawn will be in.” Buffy’s hands were shaking as she busied herself.
Spike watched Buffy with worried eyes as she knelt down at the weapons chest. He had returned to his former perch on the stairs, giving her space. She was no longer on the brink of collapse, but still strained. Like him, she hated just sitting around, waiting.
Buffy looked up and their eyes met for a moment. ‘Hold on’ he wanted to shout to her, but he didn’t know how she would react in front of all her friends. So he just looked at her, trying to put his heart into his eyes.
Buffy’s eyes grew wet again and a tiny tear ran down her cheeks which she quickly brushed away. She nodded slightly and turned back to her task.
While Giles, Buffy, and Anya prepared everything for the meeting with the oracle, Xander approached Spike.
“Hey, bleach-boy – ummm, Spike.” Xander swallowed and looked down at his shoes. “Can I – can I – Damn!” He mumbled through gritted teeth and stuffed his hands deep into his trouser pockets.
Spike cocked his eyebrow. “Out with it whelp, I don’t bite – much.” What fleas had bitten the boy that he wanted to talk to him?
“I don’t like you; don’t forget it,” Xander growled. “But Buffy will be focused on Dawn. So - can you look out for Anya?” He stared defiantly at Spike, clearly waiting for a snarky response.
Spike studied Xander silently for a moment. It took guts to ask your enemy for help, it clearly cost him a lot. He must give the whelp credit, to know his priorities.
“Okay, I’ll do it. Demon girl’s a good one. Would’ve done it anyway.” Spike shrugged his shoulders.
“What?” Xander spluttered.
“Think I’d say no?” Spike shook his head at the open mouthed astonishment on Xander’s face. “That’s why you asked, right? I’m evil, but I’m not a heartless monster.”
“I owe you, if you help her come back safe and sound. But just to make it clear, I hate it.” Xander briskly turned and walked away.
Spike stared after him. He never would have believed that the boy would ask him for a favor. He respected a man who could push his personal feelings to the side for something important. He didn’t like Xander, but he felt sympathy for him.
The sand was everywhere.
Dawn pulled the collar of her jean jacket up over her face but it didn’t help much. With each breath through her nose she felt the gritty sand crystals coat her nostrils. Her mouth felt dry and the wind abraded her skin like sandpaper. It was difficult to see with her hair fluttering around her face; as she tried to secure it inside the collar of her jacket, it felt matted and brittle.
It hadn’t looked this bad when she’d watched the wind blowing the dust balls across the yard from inside the cabin. All thoughts of following the street towards civilization left her mind. That would be suicide. Even the trickle of water she’d drunk only moments ago seemed to have been sucked out of her body by the unrelenting wind.
Despite the huge, orange sun hanging in the sky, it was terribly cold. The icy wind snaked under her jacket and tugged at her trouser legs. The gravel poked through the thin soles of her Chucks. Definitely not the right clothes for this Wild West wilderness.
She stumbled onto the porch outside the reception area. There was no light on and the windows were covered in the powdered, reddish sand. She pulled one sleeve of her jacket over her fist and wiped a small area of the front window clean before leaning down to peek in.
“Yes!” she pumped her hand in triumph. There was a stand with snacks, potato chips and nuts, at the reception desk. And in the corner was a cooler full of soft drinks. In the dim light she could see rows of keys dangling on a board behind the desk, with just one missing.
When she tried the door she wasn’t surprised to find it locked. She knocked and shouted; she even rattled the knob - but nobody came. Duh, who would stay in this deserted motel and wait for guests? On the other hand, if it was deserted, why was there still something to eat and drink in there?
Dawn stuffed her hands into her pockets to keep them as warm as possible when her fingertips bumped up against an oblong object in her right-hand pocket.. She pulled it out and examined it. It was a red plastic key fob, naming her cabin as number ten. She looked at it thoughtfully; sometimes a room key also opened the doors to the common rooms. It wouldn’t hurt to give it a try.
The key slipped into the lock smoothly and turned. When she pushed against the door, however, it wouldn’t budge an inch. The knob turned easily enough – which could only mean that she had unlocked it, but something was blocking it from the other side. She peeked again through the window but she didn’t have a free view of the entrance door.
Determinedly, she put the key back into her pocket and leaned hard against the door; she pressed her whole weight against it, stemmed her feet firmly onto the terrace, and pushed with all the force she could muster. Chips and Coke waited for her inside.
Finally the door gave way with a groan. After she worked the gap wide enough for her body, she slipped through.
Buffy and Spike watched as Anya drew a chalk circle onto the asphalt in the alley behind the Bronze. It was so late that the club had already closed and the street was deserted.
Buffy leaned into Spike’s embrace as they watched Anya draw a row of symbols inside the circle and place an iron plate onto each of them. He could feel her shoulder muscles hard with tension and rubbed his hand soothingly over her back.
“We’ll find her, pet. Niblet’s ok, you’ll see. She’s a brave one.” How could he reassure her when he was so full of concern himself?
Buffy sighed. “I know that I can’t do anything right now. That’s what’s killing me. I’m so much better when I can hit something.” She relaxed a bit and laid her head on his shoulder.
“Thanks for being here, Spike. I can’t tell you how much it helps me,” she whispered. “I know you’ll do anything to bring her back. Together we’ll find her. We will.”
One after one the plates were disappearing as new symbols turned up, which Anya answered by placing more plates on them while murmuring animatedly in a foreign language. That seemed to be the negotiating she had spoken off.
“It was a good idea to ask Anya. I don’t know why I was so blind to how much she could help us. I never considered that she’s been around for over thousand years.” Buffy looked up at Spike and gave him a lopsided grin. “I also underestimated you. Why did I never see how much you care? Giles taught me that demons don’t have feelings. That’s obviously a load of crap.”
“Pet, I’m sure, I can show you many more qualities you might ‘preciate.” Spike tilted his head and watched her lips curl into a smile.
“It’s all set. Come over here - we have to enter through the circle.” Anya waved at them, interrupting the moment. “In the conference space you’ll not need a translator, but I’ll come with you, just in case.” She stretched out her arms. “We better hold hands when we step in, otherwise we might get separated.”
They joined their hands, with Anya in the middle, and stepped simultaneously into the chalk circle. It was like falling down the rabbit hole. The air rushed by and the temperature grew warmer. When the sensation stopped, they found themselves in a dark space which felt like a large, underground cave. In the distance, they could hear the hypnotic drip-drip-drip of water patiently forming towering pillars.
A whispering, raspy sound came nearer, like a breeze shifting brittle leaves over dry ground. Out of the shadows, a long arm extended towards them. The area was suddenly bathed in a soft, golden light as glowing eyes opened at the end of hundreds of slim fingers. They were swaying, like the tendrils of an enormous sea anemone dancing in the reef waters.
“That’s the oracle,” murmured Anya. “Let me speak to it first.”
She bowed and the eyes blinked at her. “Beljoxa, Great One, be greeted. We are honoured that you grant us an audience. We seek knowledge about the location of a lost one.”
“You paid me my due respect, Anyanka. It’s always a pleasure to bargain with you. Who did you bring?” The booming, velvet voice rushed out of the darkness and the arm turned around to observe Buffy and Spike.
Buffy stepped forward and bowed, mirroring Anya’s behaviour. “I greet you, Great One. We’re searching for my sister, Dawn. We can’t locate her; we assume she might have stepped into another dimension. Can you find her for us?”
“Sister? There is no sister. There is a child, yes, a green child. Although she is not human, I sense she is… yours.” The voice hesitated, eyes rolling and blinking, their light igniting glittering sparks on the nearby wall.
“Two warriors, one light, one dark - contradicting.” The eyes slowly turned first to Buffy, then to Spike. “Here we have water, strong and flexible. There we have air, steady yet also impulsive. Diametrical, but in balance.
“The child you seek. Green, an element of both water and air.” The silken basso voice rolled into the silence like a wave crested by delicate sea foam. “The child is made of you, has both your properties. She is the keeper of the Key.”
Wriggling tentacles from the cluster of eyes flowed to the music of the voice, feeling for answers. “The child is trapped in a prison of earth, out of her element; no water there and the air is polluted by sand.
“I can bring you to her if you wish. But you have to find your own way back. The child can only leave if the key remains behind.” The voice sounded final, finished.
Spike grabbed the weapons bag and took Buffy’s hand without hesitation. Buffy glanced at her ex-demon friend and stretched out her other hand. “Anya, do you want to come with us or do you want to return to the alley?”
Anya considered the options for a moment. “It might be helpful if I come with you.” She nodded and took Buffy’s hand. “We are ready, Beljoxa, please bring us to the child. It was a pleasure to meet you again. Say ‘hello’ to the wife and kids for me.”
Crap! Shit! Bugger! Bloody, soddin’, friggin, fucking…
Dawn really needed more lessons from Spike in cursing. It was lame. Whatever she could come up with, it was bloody not enough. She lifted her head and screamed in frustration.
She was back in the cabin.
What had blocked the door had been the dresser she herself had pushed in front of the door. All dreams of potato chips and something decent to drink had been blown away like dust on the wind.
What place was this? She’d left this cabin and gone quite a distance to the reception area. There she had opened the door and was – what? Back here again, like one of those crazy loopy things they’d had in geometry, a moby dick strip.
Exhausted, she leaned against the offending door and observed the room again. It was shabby but otherwise normal. There was just one peculiar and remarkable quality about the place: there was no dust and no cobwebs. You would think with all the sand flying around outside that it would seep through the slit under the door. But the floor and window sill were spotless clean.
Dawn reached for the key and locked the door behind her. Better safe than sorry. With no idea of what to do next, she went over to the bed and sank onto it, the bedsprings squeaking in protest.
Suddenly a flood of images assaulted her - memories of Rack and his office, the creepy waiting room. She gasped – and a vampire attacking her! Fascinated, she followed the visuals streaming through her mind as if she were watching a movie. Wow, she had staked a vampire, all on her own! And Willow had been really frightening with her lighting show and the black eyes. How could she have forgotten all that?
Thinking back to the attack in Rack’s office, she now had a clearer understanding of what had happened. The warlock had been really interested in her at Halloween, which was why he’d sent Willow after her. Maybe if she hadn’t left on her own he might have captured her then and there. Also, there was no longer any doubt about the theory that the warlock had Willow under some kind of spell. At the end, the witch had cut free and helped her escape. Dawn hoped that Willow was okay, if only for Tara’s sake.
Right, but none of this changed anything at her current situation. Think, Dawn! she scolded herself.
When Willow had dragged her through the door to Rack’s office, they clearly hadn’t been in the real world anymore. She’d often overheard the Scooby’s talk about dimensions, other universes. So, had she gone to another universe or was she still in her own? Hard to tell. It seemed to be endless sunset here, but it could just be her perception of time.
Then there was the weirdness with the door. Or doors? Was it just the one or were they different doors? She had left by the front door and stepped right into the landscape she’d seen from the window. Maybe it was just the back door?
Tentatively, she walked over and put her hand on the key which she’d left in the lock. She slowly turned it and cautiously opened the door. A cold, arctic blast of air blew in through the crack; snow flakes whirled in and melted on the floor. Dawn peered through the opening out into a foreign landscape. The sky was a leaden grey and ice stretched endlessly towards the horizon. No way was this the same place as outside the front door. She closed the door with a bang, turned the key and panted.
Weird, definitely weird!
She went to the window and checked. Yup, Wild, Wild West still out the front door, dust balls blown by the endless wind across the arid ground.
Turning around, she considered the back door again. So, what did this door and the door of the reception area have in common? She tugged at her hair. Think, Dawn, think!
Slowly, she stepped back towards the freak-door. Normal wood, painted a dull beige, just like the front door. Nothing distinctive - just a boring, plain door with a key. Locked.
Oh, locked! She had also used the key on the reception door, right? What if it was the key?
She put her fingers on the key and turned it. The lock clicked and the door groaned slightly. What will it be now? Again the icy wasteland or a damp jungle? She thought about fog hanging in huge trees, the cry of exotic birds, and gorillas sitting in a clearing.
The door opened a crack and she peered through, full of curiosity.
Damp, hot air wafted through the opening, and she heard the chatter of monkeys. Oh, it was the jungle she had imagined. Was this the clue she was looking for? Did her imagination define what was behind the door? Had she thought about her room when she turned the key in the door to the reception? She couldn’t remember.
Okay, another try. She closed the door and locked it. Where did she want it to open to? Of course - Revello Drive! She pictured the entrance, the stairs to the second floor. When she had it clearly in her head she reached for the key.
“Dawn! God, Dawn! Are you ok?” Buffy’s voice came from behind her, shaking her out of her concentration.
She heard the clunk of a heavy object hitting the ground. “Niblet!”
She turned around and saw Buffy, Spike, and Anya standing in the middle of the motel room, a canvas bag lying at Spike’s feet. Where did they come from? Had it been her imagining Revello Drive? But where did Anya fit in then? Dawn stared at them open-mouthed.
Buffy stormed to her and pulled her into a tight hug, with Spike following closely behind her. Anya beamed at them. Okay, for a vision, she definitely wasn’t getting enough air.
“Buffy! Spike! You found me!” she jubilated and returned the hugs.
“Oh God, Dawn! We were so worried.” Buffy caressed her hair and her eyes scanned her sister’s face. “You look alright. Have you been here all the time?” She looked around the room.
“I ran away from Rack, the warlock, you know?” As Buffy nodded, she went on. “Willow attacked the monster in the ceiling and I ran out the door, just to end up here. This is a really weird place. I went out to the reception and when I opened the door there I was back here again.”
Dawn beamed at Buffy, proud of herself. “But I think I just figured it out.”
“Hey, Niblet, what have you figured out?” Spike stepped up behind Buffy.
“Oh, Spike, I did just like you told me. You know? Secure, observe, and take action?” She saw Spike nod.
“That’s my Bit. Bloody brilliant, you are - just look a bit ruffled.”
“Oh, you know, it was the key!” When everybody just stared at her she clarified. “The door key! I took it with me and when I opened the reception door – I was looking for something to eat – I was back here again. Whenever I unlocked a door with this key, someplace else was out there. Whatever I thought about, I mean.”
Dawn was excited to have everybody’s attention. “I just tried to think of Revello Drive when you arrived. First it was some icy place, then the jungle. It works, I know. This key can bring us home.”
Buffy looked contemplatively at Spike. “The oracle said the child can leave when the key stays. What if he meant the room key?”
“Could be right there, luv.”
Dawn grinned as she observed Buffy and Spike smiling at each other. They were so cute. She couldn’t say that aloud – she wasn’t entirely stupid. But she could exchange an amused glance with Anya.
“Okay, does that mean we can go home now?” Dawn felt suddenly very tired.
“Just do what you think is right, Dawnie. I trust you.” Buffy looked earnestly at her and Dawn felt the weight of responsibility settle on her shoulders. God, did Buffy always feel like that when she was fighting evil? She didn’t envy her sister.
Dawn took a deep breath and concentrated. Destination: Revello Drive. She pictured the entryway, the mess she had left in the kitchen, the stairs up to her bedroom. Then she turned the key and opened the door.
Buffy sighed and leaned against Spike. “You have to go; the sun will be up soon. God, that was a long day.”
“Tuck yourself in, sunshine. I’ll find my way home. Bit’s back, that’s all that matters.” Spike tucked a lock of golden hair behind her ear and kissed her temple.
Buffy yawned and continued in a sleepy voice. “We can be proud of her, can’t we? She did so well. God, she’s growing up fast. Soon she’ll be an adult. Why do I suddenly feel so old? And – what was it the oracle said? We are water and air and she’s made of both of us? What does that mean?”
Spike gently brushed his lips against her pliant mouth. “Don’t worry too much, pet. Whatever it means, we’ll find out. Now, still up for our date tomorrow or should we postpone it?”
Buffy chuckled. “Dawn threatened to be unbearable for a year if we don’t go. I’m really frightened of her right now. So, tomorrow, at eight?”
“You bet!”
With a whirl of black leather, Spike vanished into the grey light of the arriving dawn.