A/N: This was supposed to be longer. However since you guys were so nice in your reviews. This is the first part of the next section. It isn't really that interesting, just kind of a bridge. However soon I will have the second part in which the plot is made more clear. (So this is a teaser. I will get the next part out soon.

Buffy walked the streets of Sunnydale. She was still buzzing from her encounter with Spike. Being able to throw him off, even for a moment was something that she had rarely been able to do. It made her giddy. Slowly the realization that she was walking around aimlessly struck her. She looked around in the ever-growing night.

It was different. First there weren't that many people out. Second the town looked.beaten, for lack of a better word. Buffy began to stop her high and she began to look at this world that Whistler had put her in. I didn't feel like the world she encountered when she had climbed out of her grave, which was a relief. Yet there were strong iron doors in front of every business and even the Seven-Eleven was closed.

Then it struck Buffy what it was. The sleepy little Hellmouth had become cynical.

Buffy shuddered. She had to find everybody.

She walked back to the Bronze, but it was closed.

Odd she thought its only ten.

She did a loop. Willow's house was deserted; the house on Revello Drive had kids bikes in the driveway. It wasn't the same home still. Buffy didn't know where to go. She didn't want to try Xander's house. That was in a bad neighborhood and she didn't want to risk it.

"So what to do?" she asked her self. She contemplated going to the cemetery, but she wanted to get her bearings first, "Okay think Buffy."

Her inner self was not answering.

"Great, I'm all alone in a strange world. I left Dawn and I didn't kill Spike. I'm bombing this return."

She wondered around a little more looking for an open store that maybe would have a phone book, but everything was closed.

"This is not going very well," she informed herself angrily, "I need help. Why can't I think? There has to be some way of finding them. I'm just not good at this. I need Willow, I need help I am talking to myself on a deserted road. Where is Giles when I need him."

She stopped walking. After a second she turned around and ran. She ran to the place that held her last hope.

"Come on Giles be there," she muttered as she ran the final block.

The little house was dark, but Buffy held her breath, hoping that somehow.

Peaking in a window she could see the outlines of books and familiar furniture.

Buffy held her breath; she really didn't have any other place to go.

After a complete search of the doors and windows, Buffy realized that she would have to attempt vandalism.

I'm sorry Giles she apologized as she broke a pane of glass.

Once in the house she began to second-guess her assumption. She tiptoed to the bookcase. She let out a breath she didn't know that she was holding. There was no copy of any Shakespeare or Moby Dick. Only copies of Ancient Prophecies and Theories of the Occult.

"Thank you Giles for being so weird."

She looked around the room. There was a cup of tea that was almost warm.

"Sherlock Buffy is on the case. Giles still lives here and he was here recently," she announced triumphantly, "Now to wait for Giles to return and everything will be okay."

Buffy stretched and happily lay on the couch. She was tired and she fell right to sleep.



"No one kills tonight," Spike growled, "Be.discrete."

The minions looked at each other. They didn't know why he have this order, but they knew that with the mood that he was in they would be wise not to challenge him.

Spike turned away from the room of people and went into the other room where Dalton sat.

"You better have good news for me, I'm sick of this bloody town." Spike said to him, "The slayer is weak, but the little twit is plotting against me, him and his chanting fools. I want to leave as soon as possible."

Dalton looked up hesitantly, "I still am having problems with the translation."

Spike's face changed and he lashed out at the nearest object. A chair splintered and crashed into a million pieces.

"Bloody fucking hell, we're vampires who decided we needed wooden chairs. Some stupid."

"The coachman has lost the reins," Drusilla said coming next to him.

She put her head on his leather duster.

"The horses are running wild. Nothing is going to be the same."

The vein in Spike's jaw began to jump. Once again she felt the situation. This time it didn't help.

"Dru, honey, I think Miss Edith is lonely why don't you play. Then I will be able to make you better and we can go somewhere else."

"I miss Prague."

"Dru you nearly died in Prague. We'll go to New Orleans. You like it there."

Spike took her chin in between his fingers and attempted to smile down at her.

She gave him a little girl smile. Then she began to look around his head. Slowly a whine came out of her mouth.

"She dances around your head. The thorn who made the horses run."

Spike looked down at his dark princess and wanted to scream, "What do you see Dru?"

"You love your princess best right?"

"Always Dru, always," he said attempting to comfort her.

She smiled again, but this time there was doubt in her eyes.