Author's Note: Boredom and a sugar high off my leftover Easter candy have really done something to my creative process. The plot, slowly but surely, is thickening. It should come to a breaking point sooner than you think...

A/N 2.0: Now don't forget. . . REVIEWS!!! And thanks to all who have given this story such high praise. Keep up the job of raising my already inflated ego!

*******

Fred walked down the stairs next morning to find the lobby devoid of people. None of the newly arrived guests (or Wesley, Gunn, Cordelia, Angel, and Lorne for that matter) had woken up yet, leaving her all alone.

Sometime during the night, Fred didn't know when, the power company somehow managed to return power to some parts of Los Angeles. The Hyperion, thankfully, was in one of those lucky areas.

Fred consulted her watch. 7:45 a.m. 'Hey! I can at least catch the last fifteen minutes of the news.' She plopped herself into a comfy chair and clicked on the TV. Commercials. She grunted and leaned back, causing the footrest to come out of its hiding space in the chair.

Apparently she had become so comfortable where she was, she didn't notice the person standing behind her holding a glass of orange juice. "Fred, was it?"

The Texan fell out of her chair at the sound of Tara's voice. When Fred looked back up and saw the blonde girl's normally calm eyes looking back in fright.

"I-I-I'm s-sorry," Tara stuttered, grabbing Fred's hand with her own and helped her up back into the chair. "I-I did-didn't mean to sc-sc-sc. . . frighten you."

Fred dismissed it with a wave of her hand. "Don't fret about it. I've just been so high-strung these past 24 hours with the Apocalypse and all. . ."

Tara smiled. "I understand." The blonde Wiccan watched the pictures moving on the TV for several moments. "Anything interesting?"

The small brunette shook her head. "Unless you find Orange Clean interesting. . . nada."

Tara giggled. She didn't think this shy, reserved person (who was a lot like her in many ways) was capable of cracking jokes in the presence of others.

A field reporter appeared on the television after a brief introduction from the newscasters in the studio. She was standing in front of an all-too familiar sign. "Tracy Diego here live in Disneyland. Due to yesterday's monumental quake, the park has been temporarily closed. It seems as though the park has suffered small damages. . . but a large. . ." The reporter appeared confused. ". . . crack has split wide open near the statue of Walt and Mickey walking hand in hand." She looked down at the white paper in her hand. "Witnesses say that inside the crack appears to be some sort of ancient tomb-like structure. . . More as it develops. Back to you, Jim and Diane." Fred switched off the TV.

The two girls exchanged frightened and confused looks. "Uh-oh. . ."

******



"Good morning, Mr. Harris," sing-songed the nurse as she entered Xander's hospital room. With her she carried a tray of assorted food products for his breakfast. He was once again coloring but this time he was drawing something of his own on a blank sheet of white paper.

"Morning, lady with my food," Xander replied. He looked up from his work of art to greet the food she put at his lap.

The nurse noticed Xander's freehand drawing. "That's. . . um. . . a. . . an interesting drawing you have there, Mr. Harris."

"Please, refer to me as Xander. Formalities scare me." He looked back down at the paper. "Oh, this? Well. . . It's a work in progress, to say the least."

"What, uh, is it?" The lady asked.

The nurse had every right to be confused. At the lower right corner of the page there was a red eye immersed in blue flames, giving off a beacon-type light. In the center of the paper there was a headless angel shedding blood in streams. The angel's blood seemed to form a moat around the shining eye and a lot of blank space, obviously where Xander needed to do some more work.

"I honestly don't know," responded Xander. "But it seems like a good piece of work to me."

The nurse backed up to the door. "Enjoy your meal Mr. . . I mean, Xander." The woman quickly stepped out the door and left Xander to his meal and work.

Xander had to admit, the picture was kind of vile. A bleeding angel and a freaky eye would freak out anybody, especially himself and that lady nurse.

He had been inspired to draw this after a mental picture he had taken during his dream last night. He knew that Drusilla was trying to tell him something in any possible way she could. The crazy vamp had used him as a voodoo doll and now he was sure she was the one giving him the visionary nightmares. His state of mind had been shot to hell. At this point, he was starting to believe that she had caused Spike to crash into that damn ladder. The more he thought about it, the more that theory made sense.

'God, Xan-man. You really *are* losing it.' That he also believed to be true.

For a few moments, he took a good look at the food on the tray the nurse had given him moments before. Was it healthy for the orange juice to have a film layer on it? He didn't think so. Instead, he opted for the glass of water and a bite of his toast, which tasted like cardboard doused in movie theatre popcorn. The taste of it made him sick to his stomach and he threw it back onto the tray. He wasn't hungry anymore.

'Why does hospital food have to taste so bad?' he bitterly thought as he set the tray on the floor next to him. To take his mind off the taste of that substitute toast, he grabbed the black crayon and the remote from the bedside table.

He flipped on the TV. Commercials. 'Huh. . . that Orange Clean stuff really *does* work. . .' Angry for thinking such a thing, he hit smacked his forehead. Right into the wound. He screamed in agony as the throbbing noise in his ears became louder and near-deafening.

Xander wanted to cry. He could swear that this world was trying to torture him slowly and painfully. Why didn't this kind of stuff ever happen to Buffy or Willow or Anya? That's right, he reminded himself, you're the Scooby gang buttmonkey. God's hacky-sack, remember? You're the one who gets the funny syphilis and gets put under Dracula's power and nearly gets eaten by Bug Ladies who want to mate with you then bite your head off. And now you're the one who gets the head injury and mentally screwed by the crazy vampiress.

He looked back onto the screen in time to see a female reporter. "Tracy Diego here live in Disneyland. Due to yesterday's monumental quake, the park has been temporarily closed. It seems as though the park has suffered small damages. But a large crack has split wide open near the statue of Walt and Mickey walking hand in hand. Witnesses say that inside the crack appears to be some sort of ancient tomb-like structure. More as it develops. Back to you, Jim and Diane."

"Stranger things have happened," he told himself. He didn't give a second thought to the oddity of the news report.

Xander didn't realize it but as he was watching the television, his right hand (the one that gripped the black crayon) had been busy doing its own thing. It had been drawing in that blank space inside the blood moat. He looked down at the page to see what his right hand had been sketching while his mind was elsewhere.

It was a Mickey Mouse head.

*******

In panic and sudden realization, Fred ran to the phone and dialed furiously.

"C'mon Wes, pick up," she muttered as she impatiently tapped her foot. "Wesley. . . Pick up the phone. . ." The ringing stopped. Wesley's voice came on the line. Fred's ears perked up, but we're quickly shot back down. "Hello. You've reached the residence of Wesley Wyndam-Pryce. I'm not in right now. . ." A growl escaped Fred. ". . . leave your name and number and I'll get back to you as soon as possible." *Beep*

Fred went on a tangent. "God dang it, Wes! Pick up the phone! I know you're still there. Pick up the phone!" No reply. "Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, pick up the phone right this instant or you're going to be on the receiving end of my Texan wrath!"

Tara was staring at the petite girl in disbelief. She thought she'd had her figured out (the "be-polite-to-everyone" Little Miss Sweetie bookworm). The aura this girl had told Tara a different story than what she was seeing now. Fear always makes people act different, Tara told herself. And a little crazy, as well.

A tired groan came on the line. "Ughh. . . morning Fred. . ."

"About darn time," Fred said in a scolding manner. "I have some big news."

A few clicking sounds on the other end told Fred that Wesley was putting on his glasses. An "ow" told her he'd poked himself in the eye while doing so. "What kind of news?"

"Remember that earthquake yesterday?" Wesley stayed silent. "Of course you do. Anyway. . . Me and Tara were watching the news and. . . They found Ch'Nalin's tomb."

Thud. Fred came to the conclusion that her boss had fallen out of bed from shock. "You okay, Wes?" she asked, genuinely worried that he hadn't hurt himself.

"When?! Where?!" Fred had never heard the Britishman so excited. He sounded like a kid who was told he had complete control of the world's largest toy store for one day. Nay, week.

"They did exactly say *when* they found it. Sometime before this morning, I reckon. But the news isn't when, Wes. It's where."

"Where?!" His patience was obviously wearing thin.

"Disneyland."

"Pardon?"

"You heard me. Disneyland. You know, 'The Most Magical Place on Earth?' The land created by Walt? Home of Mickey Mouse and friends? Disneyland."

"I know what Disneyland is, Fred. It's just that it makes so much sense."

"Pardon?"

"I'll be there in five minutes. I'll explain then." Wesley hung up without another word of explanation.

"Wh-what did he have to say?" Tara asked as Fred walked away from the phone.

Fred shook her head. "That it made sense. Honestly, I sometimes don't know what's going on in that head of his."

Before Tara could respond, a male voice entered the air. It was calm and dark and all-too-familiar around these parts. "Who's head?"

"G'morning, Angel," Fred and Tara said in unison.

"Who's head are we talking about now?" He asked again as he walked into the kitchen and warmed up a bottle of formula for the child in his arms.

"There was something on the news earlier. Apparently, they found the tomb of Ch'Nalin." Angel didn't move even when the microwave beeped. "But here's the interesting twist. The tomb. . . is in Disneyland."

Angel broke into a fit of laughter.

"Angel laughing?" a British voice inquired. "Now there's a twist."

The girls just stood there, waiting for Angel to come down from his laughter fit. They paid no mind to Spike's comment.

"What? No 'good morning' for me?" The blonde vampire didn't bother to take the last of the steps and hopped over the railing. He landed next to Fred. "What's his deal? Has he finally gone off the deep end?"

"I told him that they found Ch'Nalin's tomb in Disneyland and he went berserk. I've never seen him laugh like that before."

A smile came across the younger vampire's face. "You're meaning to tell me that the bloody ol' slimeball is buried beneath the land that Walt built?" Spike crossed his arms after Fred's nod. "Doesn't surprise me."

"Why does everybody keep saying that?" she demanded. "Is there something about this guy I don't know? Was he a fan of Disney's work or what?"

"It's the purity aspect of the thing, bit," Spike replied. "The thing's supposed to take place where he's buried, right? The thing's called the 'Sacred Demise' using the four most pure things in the world. What's more pure than Disneyland, the 'Happiest Place on Earth?'"

Angel stopped laughing out of shock. His mouth was open in the fashion of a fish. "For once, he has a point."

Spike scoffed. "For once. . . Please. . ."

"What was that horrible shrieking sound I heard?" Buffy groggily asked as she came down the stairs covering her ears, followed directly by Willow. "Oh, hi Angel."

Spike tried ever-so-hard to not burst into a laughter similar to Angel's. It was a tough battle.

"You seem to be carrying that kid around a lot," Buffy observed. "I hardly see anybody else around here holding him or taking care of him like you are. You're acting like the boy's your own flesh and blood."

Fred squeaked and covered her mouth with her hands. Angel eyes widened to the size of dinner plates as the four Scoobies gave him questioning looks. "I. . . um. . . I just. . . grew quite fond of. . . the little. . . whippersnapper."

Spike raised an eyebrow. "Whippersnapper?"

"Who's is he, anyway?" Buffy wondered aloud.

"Orphan!" Fred immediately. "We found him. . . in a. . . an alleyway! His mother. . . she, uh, died in childbirth. A client of ours. Very sad." She shook her head in fake sorrow.

Angel furiously nodded in agreement. He was hoping now that Buffy would get off the topic that he had tried to avoid since her arrival. Much to Angel's relief, she did.

"I'm, uh. . . sorry. I didn't mean to open any old wounds or anything." The blushing feeling on her face said it was time to change the subject before any further embarrassment.

"Did we discover anything new about the Apocalypse?" Willow asked just as Buffy was about to.

"They found the tomb of Ch'Nalin, the demon warlord, in Disneyland." Fred held up her hand. "Don't. . . don't say it makes sense. I've heard it enough times already."

Buffy gave a puzzled look. "It doesn't make sense to me."

"Me neither," Willow said.

Fred threw up her hands in excitement. "Finally! Someone who's just as clueless about this as I am!"

Buffy and Willow exchanged confused glances. They didn't know if that was a compliment or an insult to their intelligence. "Thanks?"

Wesley burst through the front doors of the hotel. His hair was tousled, like he hadn't had time to comb it. He hadn't tucked in his shirt and his glasses were crooked on his face. A faint hint of a beard was resting on his chin. His face lit up at the sight of Fred. He ran excitedly in her direction.

"Fred. I'm sorry for the lack of explanation, I just didn't have time to tell you over the phone. The whole reason it makes sense. . ."

"Yeah, yeah. I know. It's 'cause the ceremony is to take place where he is buried and the ritual uses the four purest things on Earth and that it just so happens to be in Disneyland, one of the most wholesome places on the planet." She took a breath.

Wesley was speechless. "How'd you know?"

Fred gestured her thumb in Spike's direction. "He told me."

The younger Watcher looked at Spike. "How'd *you* know?"

"Dru was into the whole 'end of the world' thing and had books galore on them. Never really fancied Earth's total destruction myself, but the books were a good read. Somewhere in there was something about some 'Sacred Demise' or what have you."

Angel was getting an idea. "You said she had books on these type of things." Spike nodded. "So she knew a lot about them?" Another nod. "A *lot* about. . ."

"Bloody hell, man. Get on with it!"

"Cordelia. . . She's been having painful visions recently which, if I remember correctly, are not supposed to happen. Not since her transformation, anyway. Lorne suggested that an outside force might be giving them to her. Then just as Faith asked, 'Who's the hero?' Cordelia screamed and yelled out Xander's name. Can Drusilla give other people visions?"

Spike shrugged. "I dunno. She's good at the mind game thing. So, I'd say yeah. What's your point?"

"The hero is the only one who could stop the ceremony, right Wes?"

"Right."

"Think Dru knows who it is?"

Spike's eyes widened to the size of dinner plates. "Of course. Bloody hell! Why didn't I see it before?! That's why she's messing with the whelp!"

"But why Cordelia?" Tara asked.

"Maybe she's trying to speak with us without having to come face to face," Wesley mentioned.

"Would Drusilla know if she was able to handle visions?" Fred pondered.

"I heard my name," a voice came from the foyer. At the same moment Fred had made the observation, Cordelia had entered the hotel lobby. The hilt of her palm was pressing against her forehead. Her head was still throbbing from the last assault. "What about me?"

"We think we've figured out why your visions are painful again," Wesley responded.

That brightened Cordelia's dimming mood. "Why?"

"Guys, guys! You'll never guess what I found out!" Gunn dashed into the Hyperion, hysterically yelling and waving a newspaper in his hands. He accidentally ran into Cordelia and sent her tripping down the stairs. "Sorry about that, Cord."

"Watch it!" she screamed. With Fred and Tara's help, she got to her feet again.

"Geez, I said I was sorry." Gunn kept waving the paper in the air. "I was reading the paper this morning and. . ."

"Let me guess. . . they've discovered a mysterious tomb buried beneath Disneyland?" Gunn nodded at Buffy's question. "Been there, done that."

This was the first time Cordelia had heard the news. "I didn't know about it! Is it the grave of that Chalin guy?"

"Ch'Nalin," Wesley corrected. "And yes, it is."

"Disneyland?!"

"Yes."

"What an odd place to bury a demon. . . Does that mean we're going to Disneyland?"

"Eventually," Wesley replied. "But first we need to know how Xander plays into all this. And why Drusilla is trying to communicate with us."

"Is she the one giving me that painful visions?"

Angel nodded. "We think so."

Wesley took his role as boss. "Spike, Angel, Gunn. . . Get Lorne and go around to all the demon bars and hot spots asking if they've seen Drusilla around.

"Buffy, you and Faith will go and patrol. Maybe a random demon will accidentally tell you something he's not supposed to.

"Tara, Willow, Fred and Dawn- when she wakes up- will help me do some research. Where's Giles?"

Buffy pointed upwards. "I tried to wake him up earlier. Said he had a serious case of jetlag and needed his rest desperately."

"What about me?" Cordelia demanded. "What am I supposed to do?"

"Stay here with us. We don't know if Drusilla is done trying to tell us something or not. Everybody know what they're doing?" Everyone replied with a nod. "Okay. . . Break!"