Hours later, they sat in a circle on the living room floor and watched Tara as she sat deep in a trance state. The room flickered with candlelight and was filled with the odour of incense and sharp herbs. Her lips moved from time to time, but no one, not even Spike, could make out what she was saying. Willow was beginning to think her girlfriend had become lost in the dream state when Tara opened her eyes suddenly and took several deep, gasping breaths.
"What is it?" Spike demanded. "What did you see?"
She blinked a few times and shook her head to clear the disturbing images from it. "You were right," she said, "Buffy is having nightmares - and there seems to be some presence holding her there, not letting her wake up. Please understand," she insisted softly, "that with these simple tools, I can only get a glimpse of what she's experiencing. It's like using a television with poor reception versus being at a live show," she explained. "I haven't known Buffy as long as any of you, but it seemed to me she was reliving things that had happened to her in the past - unpleasant things."
"Well that could be practically anything in the last five years," said Willow, not really joking, "which doesn't really narrow it down at all . . ."
"It's not even as simple as that, Willow," Tara continued. "These dream memories are being twisted somehow to be worse than the actual events." She looked at Spike. "I saw you in her dreams. You were in a school, and . . . you killed her mother. And we know that's not true."
"Actually," he replied, obviously shaken, "she hit me with an axe, and ran me off. Never met a Slayer who had friends and family before. Joyce was quite the lady. I should have realized where Buffy got her strength."
Tara turned to Willow next. "I saw you die in one of her nightmares, Willow. A vampire tore your throat out . . ." her voice failed her suddenly.
"It's not real, sweetie," Willow reached for her hand to comfort her. "I'm still here, see? I mean, sure, I've been threatened a few times, but Buffy always came through for me in the end."
"But it is real for Buffy, don't you see? I think that these nightmares all represent times in her life when people she loved were at risk, only now she fails them, and they die. And every time that happens, she gets weaker, and less able to resist the images. Something is feeding on her fear and horror, and if we can't stop it - she'll die."
"Then we stop it. Now," Spike stated flatly. "What do we have to do?"
"I'm . . . not sure, yet," Tara apologized. "I need time to consider some ideas. This is far beyond anything I've ever dealt with before."
Spike surged to his feet and slammed his fist into the wall in frustration. "How much time?" he demanded. "She can't wait. You said it's killing her."
"Spike, we will bring her back. I promise you." Tara's voice was warm and strong, but she looked beseechingly at Willow.
"I think we all need a break," Willow offered as a distraction. "Why don't I make some coffee or something?"
"Buffy doesn't get a break," Spike observed quietly.
"I'll help you, Will," said Dawn, getting up from her seat on the floor. "Tea for you, Spike? I think we have a few teabags left." When he didn't acknowledge her, Dawn gave up and followed Willow into the kitchen. Once they were alone, Dawn ventured to speak her fears aloud. "What if we can't find anything?"
"We will," Willow assured her. "You and I and Tara will go to the Magic Box first thing and make with the research. We'll have the answer in no time." But her worried expression belied her cheerful tone.
"I hope so," said Dawn, fishing in the canister for a teabag as Willow put the coffeemaker on and plugged in a kettle for the hot water. "But I'm afraid-"
"Afraid of what? Being late for school? You should be." Xander's sudden appearance at the back door drew a small shriek from Willow. Dawn jumped and scattered teabags across the counter. "Look at you," he complained. "You're not even dressed yet, and we have to get going in five minutes."
"School! I had no idea it was so late already. Willow, you have to call me in sick today!" Dawn exclaimed. "I can't possibly go!"
"What's going on?" Xander inquired. "Is there a test? I could never get my mom to call me in sick on test days."
"Xander, it's Buffy." Dawn explained. "She was attacked on patrol last night. Spike brought her home."
"Oh my god!" he exclaimed. "Is she going to be okay? Where is she?"
"Xander, calm down. We're already doing everything we can," Willow said. "It was a magical attack, not physical. It seems to be some kind of spell that has trapped her in a nightmare world. Tara's here and soon we'll have a plan to deal with it. In the mean time," she added, "We should all try to carry on as normally as possible."
"Is that why you're putting salt in the cups, Will?" he inquired mildly. "Because I know that's the latest trend in all the best coffeehouses."
"What? Oh!" she exclaimed, seeing the cups in front of her as if for the first time. "I didn't say it would be easy," she replied, grateful for the moment's light humour. She quickly poured out the salt and wiped the cups clean. Just then the coffeemaker emitted the wheezing gurgle that signalled it was done.
"Let me get that," Xander offered. "I'll stay until there's some news. I don't think I could concentrate today - I might put a nail through my boot or something." He poured out coffee evenly into the cups and replaced the pot. "I'll just call the worksite and tell them I've got a family emergency. And Anya should know, too. Should I have her come over?"
"I think she can be more help there. See if she knows anything about demons associated with nightmares. Tell her we'll be in almost as soon as she opens, and we'd appreciate any advance work she can do," Willow requested.
"Will do," replied Xander, heading for the phone.
"Would it be too weird if I said I felt like having some cookies?" interjected Dawn suddenly in a worried tone, while she poured hot water into a thick white mug over one of the salvaged teabags.
"That's not weird at all, Dawnie," Willow reassured her. "When your body gets all stressed, carbohydrates and fats help keep you calm. That's why we get cravings sometimes. And the comfort of familiar foods is a big plus. Me, I want my Grandma Rosenberg's matzo ball soup - but cookies will do for now." Dawn dared a small smile, and Willow squeezed her shoulder. "Everything's going to work out fine, sweetie. You'll see." They placed the cups and a plate of cookies on a tray and headed back to the living room, where they distributed the bounty.
"Here's your tea, Spike," Dawn said, offering him the mug. He inspected the dusty teabag bobbing forlornly in the hot water, and waited until Dawn had turned away before setting it down untouched on a side table.
When Xander entered, he cast an unenthusiastic glance at Spike who had taken up Dawn's former post on the couch with Buffy's head cradled in his lap. "What's he still doing here?" he asked.
"Spike was with her when she was attacked," Willow explained. "He may be able to help us narrow down what's happened. Besides, now that the sun's up, he can't leave." Xander accepted the explanation without grace, but also without further comment.
By unspoken agreement, they kept their conversation to light topics as they ate and drank. Tara related the latest of Miss Kitty's adventures. Willow even managed to produce weak laughter from the group as she described the peculiarities of one of her professors. Dawn described the latest pair of shoes she wanted, though a momentary uncomfortable silence fell when Willow commented how she was 'just like her sister.' Xander rescued the conversation by describing plans for his upcoming wedding, but from his tone it seemed as though it rated not far below the current situation in angst. Only Spike remained silent - the skeleton at the feast - stroking Buffy's hair with a gentle hand to soothe her when she was disturbed.