He blinked at first and then his eyes swept around the area in front of him. When had the world turned into a Salvador Dali painting? The landscape seemed to melt into itself, and the world was a mass of colored blurs, indistinguishable for what they should have been if everything was in its proper shape. Where was Buffy? Willow? Anyone?

He sat up and looked around again noting that the Slayer was not with him, nor any of her friends. That was his first clue that things were not like he thought them to be. He finally rose to his feet, felt dizzy for a few long moments, and then moved forward. There was really no where to go around here, no destination he could see that would be preferable to where he was now. As he thought it a line of trees appeared on the edge of his vision, peripherally, off to the left. It took him a minute to spot them, though, and he decided a clear forest was probably his best bet. It offered shade and, if necessary, an place to his and gather weapons.

It took him a while to cross to the treeline and he marveled at the sights around him. A large lake of red water was to his right and a square hill of grey stone to his left. Trees melted in the moonlight, drooping like wax figures in the heat.

He reached the trees and leaned against the nearest one, winded, though he hadn't thought the walk to be exceptionally long and hard. Someone giggled briefly off to the side, feminine laughter. He turned, trying to follow it, his eyes seeing nothing but dense trees and darkness beyond.

"Buffy?"

The voice giggled again but didn't seem to want to respond with a name.

"Who's there?"

A figure appeared across the clearing from him, seemingly out of the air. He nearly gasped in surprise but kept his ground.

"What do you want?"

"Nothing, Rupert. I don't want anything."

"How do you know my name?"

"I ought to. I'm your guardian in this place."

"Guardian? What are you protecting me from?"

"Perhaps it would be easier to think of me as a guide."

"A guide? To where?"

"In due time. I'm Lara."

"Lara...you look familiar."

"I ought to. I'm a blend of many women in your life: Jenny, Deirdre, your mother, your great aunts, Buffy."

"How is that possible? How do you know about all of them?"

"Hadn't you guessed?"

His expression grew darker as he looked at her, unsure what this game of questions was supposed to gain him. She seemed to make vague and artform.

"Guessed what?"

"Rupert, you're not out there anymore. Your mind..."

"I'm inside my own mind."

It made a lot more sense. Looking behind him he saw the cemetery he left behind suddenly solid in form and color. His own body was clearly visible where he'd come from next to a mausoleum. Blood pooled around his head. A rift in the ground prevented him from returning and his heart went cold with that thought. He took a moment to breath, try to think. The action was impossibly hard.

"Coming here signals a deeper descent into my own mind. I'm in a coma."

"Not quite. Rupert, let's go. We have a long distance to travel and not a lot of time to do it in."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"Stalling won't help. You know who I am now."

"No!" He paused and noticed his hand was balled into a fist and that the fist was shaking. "Yes," he admitted at last.

"Who am I?"

"You're...you're Death."

She nodded, almost imperceptibly. "And that means?"

"I'm dying."