"I have an idea that might work," Tara declared, when the cookies had been reduced to nothing but crumbs and the cups nearly drained. Everyone looked up at her expectantly. "We can send someone after her. Anchored here, but projected into her dreams, to find her and guide her back."
"Tell me what I have to do," Spike said immediately.
"Now hold on a minute," Xander protested. "Who said it would be you? I don't think you understand-"
"You don't think at all, so far as I've been able to determine," Spike retorted. "In fact-"
"Stop it, both of you," Willow scolded. "Let Tara explain."
Tara favoured her with a grateful glance. "It has to be someone close enough to her to form the mental bond, and who is strong enough to survive being plunged into her nightmares." She paused for a sip of her cooled coffee before continuing. "I haven't known her for as long as all of you have, but in any case, I'll be the one performing the linking spell. So it will have to be one of you," she concluded, looking at four equally concerned faces around the room.
They exchanged silent glances. Dawn was the first to speak. "The monks . . . made me, using Buffy as a pattern. I've got to be closer to her than anyone. And I've lived through plenty of awful stuff. I think I could take it."
"That's true, Dawnie," Tara replied. "But that very closeness might make you a target as well. The demon or sorcerer or whatever has caused this might find you equally appetizing." Dawn shivered at the thought.
"I guess I know Buffy the best," offered Willow next. "There isn't anything we haven't been able to talk about in the last five years - well, except recently," she had to admit. "I know I'm strong . . ." She was unable to finish her sentence.
"But you're afraid you might find it too hard to keep from using magic," Tara said sympathetically. "That it would control you instead of you controlling it, and put you both in danger."
Willow nodded, with a discomfited smile. "I wish more than anything that I could help somehow. I just don't think I dare to do it."
"I guess that leaves me," Xander said. "I've known Buffy just as long as Willow has, and I don't have any trouble with magic to worry about. That, plus my memories of being 'army guy' and my abilities with tools should make me the natural choice."
"So when you get there you'll build her a credenza?" Spike suggested mockingly, rolling his eyes. "That'll be useful."
Tara turned to look at him. "We haven't heard from you yet," she pointed out.
"Spike?" Xander laughed sharply. "You're joking. How could he possibly be the right one to send?"
"I'm in love with her," Spike said simply. "It should be me. And I'm stronger than any of you."
"Stronger physically, maybe," Xander countered. "Which may not mean a thing in her dreams. And just because you were obsessed with her doesn't mean she felt any connection to you."
Spike fixed him with a cool stare. "She was sleeping with me," he disclosed. "I think you'll find that will do for your connection."
Xander stared open-mouthed at him for long moments before finding his voice again. Not one of his friends had shown any signs of surprise at what to him was a shocking revelation. "You knew? You all knew?" he cried, looking from one to another in turn.
Spike shook his head. "Now I know why you became a carpenter, Harris. You're thick as a plank. You were there and you couldn't tell." Xander just stared at the vampire blankly. "Pushups, for crying out loud?" Spike reminded him.
"Oh god. Oh god!" Xander hyperventilated.
Spike ignored this hysterical display, though on a better day would have delighted in tormenting him even more. He addressed Tara with his next words, baring his heart to her because he knew it would be her judgment that decided the matter. "I've never felt for anyone, not even Dru, what I feel for Buffy. She inhabits my every waking moment; lives in my dreams. There's nothing I wouldn't do if I thought it would help her." He looked down at Buffy's troubled face before continuing. "She's more precious to me than water in the desert, because she recreates me a better man than I ever dreamed I'd become - though she doesn't know it." His measured words fell like stones into a deep well of silence.
"She doesn't love me," he felt forced to add, knowing that nothing but the naked truth would do. "But when she's cut, I bleed." He looked up, meeting Tara's gaze and pleading with more than words. No one spoke, waiting for her to render her decision. Finally, she nodded at Spike.
"So when do I go?" he asked, relieved beyond words.
"I can probably find the right spell and all the appropriate ingredients and equipment within the day," she said. "But the barrier between the waking world and the dream world isn't easily broken. We'll have the best chance if we wait until it's thinnest, on the night of the new moon. Three days," she clarified.
"Three--?" he choked off the words, knowing that Tara was simply telling him the truth. "I'll take her upstairs, then, and make her comfortable. Until you're ready."
"We'll start planning right away," she promised.