The tower stood crazily in the distance against the indigo sky; the tinkertoy construction of a mad god. From here, all she could see were tiny figures like ants rushing about and over it. Not her nightmare, then, or she'd be in the thick of it. Buffy set off at a run to reach the tower and prevent whatever was going to go wrong this time.
As she made her way through the deserted streets, she kept her eyes on the tower, trying to discern what was happening at its summit. That slight figure at the edge of the cantilevered platform must be Dawn, she realized, and forced more speed from herself. Two others struggled on the walkway, and Buffy stifled a cry as one was suddenly thrown from the heights, black fabric fluttering about him but doing nothing to slow his meteoric fall.
Oh god - what if he dreams he died here? she wondered, her thoughts racing to challenge the speed of her thudding heart. Would that destroy him? . . . kill him? But after his fall, the nightmare continued to play itself out.
Buffy could now hear Dawn's screams as she drew nearer the abandoned lot and the tower. Somewhere below, she and all her friends were fighting Glory and her minions. She hadn't made it up the tower in time to save Dawn before, but vowed that she would change that outcome this time.
All her determination, however, couldn't slow the unfolding events. Dawn's blood - her blood - spilling from the heights, unlocked the door between dimensions. It flared a harsh, crackling electric blue, and hell entered the world. Misshapen beasts rode the air, while people and buildings all around were twisted into cruel dark parodies of the world she loved. And the only way now to close the door was if the blood of the key that had opened it stopped flowing. Maybe this is my nightmare after all, she thought. But I still won't sacrifice Dawn.
The sun began its climb into the sky at last, staining the world with red. Movement at the top of the tower again caught and held Buffy's attention, and she skidded to a stop. A small form flew from the edge - herself, she realized in shock - such a tiny figure, silhouetted against the first light of day. She saw herself suspended for a moment in space, and then plummeting into the heart of the maelstrom.
Buffy remembered everything about that instant of time as though it played out again in front of her. She had made her peace with the world and with her purpose in it. Her last words to Dawn had been for her friends to care for each other and to live - to live in this world she would buy them with her life. She remembered the fall and the blinding light and - most of all - the blazing pain, burning away every trace of her mortal self. And then she remembered the peace. The peace of knowing her job was done, that she was loved and could rest at last. Tears flowed down her face, unnoticed and unchecked.
The hell gate drew in on itself and vanished, as did all the changes it had wrought. The sudden silence was a greater shock to her ears than all the cacophony that had passed before.
Buffy came slowly into the lot at the base of the tower, dazed. Nothing had changed - from what she had been told by her friends, this was exactly how events had unfolded all those months ago - so what was she here to prevent? Her eyes were drawn to the tableau before her, to her own still and lifeless body lying in the rubble.
There was Tara, her mind newly restored by Willow's daring attack on Glory. The two of them leaned on each other, their faces crumpled with grief. There too was Xander, carrying the injured Anya cradled close against him. She could see his heart - the heart that had so often sustained all of them - breaking in his eyes. And Giles; dear, proper, oh-so-British Giles, fighting back his tears. Dawn joined them at the bottom of the stairs, moving stiffly from her ordeal, her face numb. She carried Buffy's last words for them to hear; whatever small comfort Buffy could offer them from beyond the world would come through Dawn. She could see her sister drawing strength from that knowledge, standing straight and wiping away tears - and Buffy loved her more than ever in that moment.
Beyond them, apart from them as always, a bright-haired, dark clad man collapsed to his knees and buried his face in his hands in a gesture of inconsolable sorrow that pierced her heart. She made her way forward slowly through the debris, unseen by anyone as the nightmare continued its inexorable course, until she reached his side. Buffy paused, and then knelt, her upraised hand trembling in the air between them. At last she reached for him, caressing a cheek wet with blood and tears, to turn his face towards hers.
"William," she murmured gently, almost tenderly. "I'm here. The nightmare's over. Wake up."
As her words sank in, he raised his eyes to her, blasting her with the naked emotion there. He clutched desperately at her as a drowning sailor might the last spar of his lost ship, pressed his face to her breast and sobbed her name. The world around them froze and drained of all colour like a photograph left too long in the sun.
Buffy held him for an eternity, tentatively stroking his hair until his sobs faded and his quaking shoulders stilled. The world around them remained tranquil and hushed, showing none of the signs they'd come to expect meant movement in the dream world, and she wondered if they had become trapped here forever.
"I don't understand," Buffy said uncertainly, when Spike had recovered and sat back wiping his eyes unselfconsciously. "I though our nightmares were about memories that were being made worse. This is exactly the way everything went - nothing here is worse than before."
Spike met her eyes squarely. "I couldn't keep my promise to you," he said quietly. "I didn't manage to protect Dawn. And because of that, you had to die." He shook his head. "I lived with that failure all summer. I patrolled and I took care of Dawn as best I could - and none of that made anything any better." How would you make it worse? was the unspoken question he left hanging in the air between them.
Buffy wasn't ready to address this revelation. Instead, she looked around them to see that the light seemed to be dimming, in spite of what should have been a new day. Their surroundings had become more like a stage setting than reality. "What happens now?" she asked.
Spike got carefully to his feet. With the passing of the nightmare his injuries had vanished but he still felt weak. He reached down and helped Buffy to stand as well, then brought his hand to her cheek and brushed away the last teardrops clinging to her lashes. "We're a right pair, aren't we?" he said, smiling wryly. "I don't know."
A noise behind them drew their attention. Everything around them was dissolving into blankness, except for four figures. Tara, Willow, Dawn and Xander turned and began to stumble towards them. Buffy straightened, and reached unconsciously for Spike's hand. Whatever happened next, they would be dealing with it together.