~Dawn~

What…what?!

In a rush of panic, I sit up and get a face full of leaves. 

 I am sleeping in a bush because…? Oh! It all comes back in a flash: Dru, the painting, me and Spike, the almost sex, and my… Well, I'm not so sure you could call it an escape; he just kinda let me go.  I thought for a second there he just wanted me to run so he could chase down his prey, but when he didn't catch up with me after a block or two I figured he was just being…well, Spike. The Spike I've always known him to be: the one who terrorizes my dates, who helped me pass history, and the one who protects me. The one who has always protected me.

I crawl out of the bush scratching at my legs and arms. I hope I haven't gotten into something poisonous. Hiding under a bush in a park is not the most comfortable place to spend the night.

As I crawl from my leafy bower, I look up at the sky. I think it's about 3 or 4 AM. The moon is still up, but the sky is turquoise with the barest hint of pale pink on the horizon. It's a beautiful morning. You'd think I'd be depressed, or anxious, or worried, but I'm not. I just feel alive, starving, but alive. I am a little ticked that I'm still a virgin, I really wanted Spike to, you know, be the first.  Maybe it's better this way… but his hands were so nice…and his chest… and his lips…and… NO! This is Spike! No daydreaming about your sister's boyfriend!  Those last few minutes were everything I'd ever dreamed of, except…  I could have done without the Dru bits. Ugh! I already have too many hang ups dealing with strong women. I didn't need to add that particular kink to my psyche.

I go and get a drink out of the park's fountain. Its edges are all covered with slimy green moss. I gulp the cold water and try not to think about what's swimming in it. I couldn't stop drinking it even if I wanted too. I am so thirsty. I drink and drink until the water assuages some of the hunger I feel. 

Horse hooves ring in the distance, and suddenly wandering around in a linen nightgown doesn't feel too safe. I know I have to go somewhere, but where? I haven't a clue where we landed, and I'm not too sure I could even make it back to the warehouse. I wasn't paying too much attention as I was running last night; I was just trying to get away.

I sit on the edge of the fountain and try to think. Ok, if I were Spike, where would I go? Nothing comes to me. Crap! I'm not Spike, and I've never been to England. I splash my feet in frustration, sending water flying in all directions. I don't even know anyone… Wait! I may not know a person, but I think I may know a place, and it's a place Spike might know as well. Now it's just a matter of finding out if it's here during this time.

Da dum  da dum da  dada.  Da dum  da dum  da  da. Humming Off to See the Wizard, I try to brush the leaf litter out of my hair so I don't look as scary as the wicked witch of the west. Finishing with that little chore, I set out to find someone who can tell me where the great and powerful OZ might be. Only in this case I'm not so much looking for a single wizard, but a whole group of Watchers. Too bad there's never a yellow brick road around when you need one.

~Dr. Lawrence~

I glance back and forth between the chained vampire and the unfinished portrait. The form on the canvas is fairly complete, but many of the details are missing. It gives the painting an unfocused look in some areas, and I feel the need to clean my glasses. The face especially bugs me. The painted eyes are just vague purple shadows, but the detail on the mouth is exquisite. I wonder what Dawn was avoiding?

The dark haired beauty stirs and shakes her head, finally waking.

"I'm Dr. Lawrence, and you're Dru?" I settle back on the couch with the crossbow resting beside me and a cross in my lap. The vampire shakes her head, and looks at the chains on her wrists.

 "Daddy's gone away and my boys, too. Are you my punishment?" she asks in child-like singsong.

"No, I'm not your punishment. I'm just staying with you until they get back."

"My boy didn't come back right. Wants to dance with the light now, he does."

 She drags her finger through the corner of the palate lying on the floor, swirling the colors with her finger.

"Black and white makes gray. Nasty.  Dirty. The color of ashes, it is."

 She throws the wooden pallet at me making me duck. It strikes the wall with a resounding clatter and then wobbles drunkenly across the floor. She wipes the remaining paint on her bare thigh. The row of jagged slashes resembles totem marks I studied in anthropology so long ago.

 "The fates speak in riddles. They chatter, asking me their nasty questions." 

"Dru, what are the voices telling you?" She's obviously psychotic. The mumbled speech, the disjointed sentences, and the voices all point to it. Her behavior patterns may be so ingrained by this point that haldol wouldn't help, but I'd sure like to give it a try. I wonder what effect it would have on vampire physiology.

"They're telling me wicked lies. My boy couldn't love a Slayer. It's wrong! Wrong! Slayers are for bleeding. "

"How do you know he loves a slayer?"

She chooses to ignore me and continues talking to herself.

"Time's all knotty, but I can cut the strand that binds them."

She kneels and tugs at the chains. My hand sneaks toward the crossbow. Human males are supposed to be more dangerous than females, but in almost every other species it's the females you have to watch out for, and I have a feeling that this is the case with vampires. Her struggles with the chains go unrewarded. She turns her attention toward me as I suddenly become useful to her.

"Will you take these off? They chaff my wrists."

"No, sorry, I don't have the key."

"No one does, it's gone off on its own. My boy, Spike, he likes his games. Do you like games? We could play.  She licks her lips and begins to sing. "Catch the key and lock her up, lock her up, lock her up. Catch the key and lock her up, my fair lady."

Oh my, talk about a career challenge. I may open up a whole new sub-specialty dealing with psychotic vampires.  If only I could publish it.  Of course if I did, I'd get to see the psychward from a whole new perspective.

~Dawn~

             It has already been a long day and it is only about ten according to the chiming of the grandfather clock in the walnut paneled study.  I had weaseled my way into the Watchers Council headquarters by throwing myself on the mercy of the woman who had opened the door, calling her Auntie and mumbling about dreams of vampires, slaying, and sleepwalking. I don't think the constable who escorted me believed it for a minute, but the woman backed me up and called me her niece, so there was nothing he could do about it. I just smiled at the nice policeman, and scooted around 'my aunt' into the safety of the foyer; where I promptly turned all girlie girlie and fainted.  Whether it was out of hunger or relief I'm not sure, but it was probably the smartest thing I could have done at that point.  Anyway, now I am clean, clothed, and the in the process of being fed. Although with the grilling they're giving me I might as well be naked and tied to a rotisserie.

The hoi polloi of the Watchers council have gathered around the table and are watching me try not to cram a toasted cheese into my mouth like the ravenous creature that I am.  I make myself behave and take only small bites. Mom would be proud; she was always getting on to me about my table manners.

"Just who are you, young lady?" says stuffed shirt number one. He reminds me of Quentin Travers, the son of a bitch that almost got Mom and Buffy killed. Probably a relative, he has those same close set beady eyes.

            "I'm the sister of the Slayer." I take a sip of tea, and manage not to make a face. They make it like Giles does with cream and sugar, yuk.

            "Funny, you don't sound Portuguese. And as far as I know that young lady is an orphan. So, let me repeat myself, who are you?"

             "And I'll repeat myself; I'm the sister of one of your vampire Slayers. I didn't say it was the current one."

            "Young lady, you may have used the right words to get in here, but this is not a charitable organization. You will need to be more forthcoming if you desire our help. Now, which slayer?"

It's easy to tune him out. I'd always thought British voices were sexy, but his has all the appeal of a bullfrog. He kinda looks like a bullfrog too, the way his massive double chin sways and expands as he croaks at me. I had thought of a good story before I arrived on their doorstep, but the way he's acting makes me want to edit it even more.  I don't want to provide them with any info that isn't absolutely necessary.

 "A spell went wrong, and I was transported here from the United States. I came here because I need help finding a way back," I say.

Stuffed shirt number two adds. "There hasn't been a Slayer in the colonies since the 1600's." He is even older then the first man and speaks with nasal whine.

"Knew her did you?" The group around the table titters at the man's expense.

"No. I'm just speculating that this young lady is not what she appears," he said.

"In this case, Rogers is right. I had one of the seers check her out while she was unconscious. They were able to detect a strong energy field surrounding her form."

The table explodes with questions. I slump in my chair, wishing I was invisible. Talk about out of the frying pan and in to the fire. I should have known better than to think they would help.

"Quiet!" He barks. "There is more. Because of what I found, I had Miss Sutcliff our resident witch examine her blood, and she was able to trace a spell signature to the Order of Dagon."

The table rocks as the group springs to their feet, roaring their questions. He waves his hands and shouts for order. Finally they fall in to an uneasy silence.

 "Travers, are you saying that monks have inserted a homunculus into our organization?"

What the hell's a homunculus? What ever it is I'm sure it's not me.

            "I am uncertain what to think, as you know, the monks have always been our allies against evil. So as a courtesy, I've sent a message to one of their local monasteries; we should have an answer within a day or so."

~Spike~

"You'll not find her this night, mate, sun's coming up."

I ignore him, and continue to walk; concentrating on trying to detect any trace of Dawn. I close my eyes and open myself to my other senses until I am almost overwhelmed by the influx of heartbeats, smells, and heat signatures. I try to sift through the wealth of information searching …

"Sodding bloody hell!" I roar as he grabs my arm, shaking me from my trance.

 "Look you may be suicidal in your old age, but I'm not. The sun will be up in a few minutes. We need to get undercover."

He's damn lucky he's right.

We pour on the speed and fly back to the warehouse almost as fast as the bats humans have accused us of being. He pauses to laugh briefly at a street vendor, who detects nothing more then an errant breeze as we pass. I am not in the mood.

When we get back to the warehouse, he pulls me to a stop at the base of the stairs.

"I ain't looking forward to dealing with Dru in the next few minutes. She's going to be mighty ticked that she's chained up. Not to mention the fact that I 'controlled' her over some bint.

 "Hey, you sunk your fangs into Dru's neck on your own."

"Instead of sinking them into your little thrall, I'll remind you. You owe me."

"So, what do you want me to do? Take the fall for you; be the Big Bad?"

"Something like that, yeah."

I can't think of any reason not to, so I shrug.

We head up the stairs with me behind him, game face up, like I'm in charge; when he stops in the blasted door way so sharply that I almost trip over him. What I see makes me force my way around him. 

"Dru! Drusilla! Drop her!" I grab her by forehead and back of the neck, forcing her head up. Doc falls in a heap at our feet. So much for needing to pretend to be the Big Bad.

"And you! Didn't I tell you not to get too close to her?" I addressed Doc as she lays in a huddle on the floor.

 "I was just handing her a sheet. I…I'm sorry, I didn't think." Doc looks like a rabbit that has just managed to escape a hawk, all wide eyed and twitchy.

"You should have killed her. You should have killed her, and you didn't." Drusilla accuses in a hiss.

For a second I wasn't sure who she was going on about, but then I knew; I could see it in her eyes. Damn that sight of hers! Somehow, she knew about Buffy.

"Dru, shut... your… hole!"

"I see you… enveloped in light," she sneers. "You'll burn with it till there's nothing left. Nothing left but ashes."

She plasters her nude body against me, her hands stroking me with familiar caresses. Over a hundred years with this woman. I'd thought our love was eternal. Now, her scent hangs oddly in my nose, all spice and mystery, where I've become accustom to sunshine and wild flowers.

"It's not too late. It's still there, hiding within you. Don't you want it?"

Some part of me still wants her, wants what she's offering, what she offered. The darkness was everything she promised: glowing, glistening, effulgent. If I were given a choice to do it all over again I wouldn't change a thing. But I'm not going back either.

I feel the others in the room hold their breath as I push her away. She launches herself at me screaming and crying. I don't ever remember seeing her this irate. Her claws streak toward my face with every intention of making mince meat out of me.  I dunk and grab one of the chains twisting up and around her, locking her arms to her sides. Then I push her towards him; trying not to listen to the names she's calling me.

"Baby, stop, it's not good for you to get yourself upset like this." He makes little hushing noises.

Watching them makes me feel like I'm seeing myself through a long tunnel, everything going a little dark around the edges.

"You'll kill her won't you, baby? You'll kill her for me?" Drusilla pleads with him.

"Of course I'll kill her. I'll kill anyone you want. Come on." He unlocks the chains. "Let's go get you dressed, and I'll make you a nice cuppa tea, and you'll feel all better." He shoots me a dirty look over his shoulder, and leads her from the room.

 "I didn't thank you for rescuing me." Doc presses a hand to her neck.

It doesn't look like Dru got too much; she's still conscious, and the blood on her neck is already starting to coagulate. The sight of it reminds me of how hungry I am. The prepackaged stuff is bad, but rats taste worse! And that's what I'm going to be reduced to unless we get back soon.

"Aren't you worried about them leaving or something?" She asks.

            "No place to go, sun's up."

"I take it you didn't find Dawn."

            "No, I'll go back out tonight after the sun goes down." I slump exhaustedly into the couch, and stare at the painting. I can imagine it hanging in some grand museum with hundreds of people trooping past it ogling it, wondering about who the model was. "Do you think she'll ever finish it?"

            "Do you want it finished?"

            "Yeah."  I sit quietly, and contemplate the portrait. I want this whole part of my life finished in more ways then one. 

She finally breaks the silence that's fallen over us. "I want to go check on Paige. I promised her I'd be back this morning."

"Are you sure you're up to it? You haven't had much sleep in the last couple days."

"I'm a doctor. I survived my internship in the hospital on less, and I didn't kill anyone then, and I won't kill your sister now."

"Know you won't. No need to get testy." I raise my hands in sarcastic defense. "You know it wasn't your fault you got bit." I offer by way of apology.

"Wasn't it?"

"I didn't think to tell you about how she hypnotizes people. That's probably what happened."

"I know hypnosis myself. You can't make someone do anything they don't already want to do."

"Huh? Are you saying that you let Dru bite you?"

"Not consciously, but….maybe subconsciously. You intrigue me. Don't be fooled by this sedate middle aged body, there is still a lot of passion left in here. I'm as susceptible to the romance of vampire lore as the next fool."

"Doc."

"Don't call me that.  You can't park a boat at me and I'm not a dwarf."

"What do you want me to call you?"

"My given name is Teresa."

"Well turn about is fair play, Teresa, why don't you call me by my name? I hear that hesitation in your voice every time we talk."

"Oh! God, I'm so transparent. I didn't mean for you to catch that."

"Give." She's blushing exquisitely, and she can't even look at me.

"You see, my brother had this dog and his name was Spike."

"What was it, some type of mean old junk yard dog?"

"Hmm"….she cringes…. "No, not exactly."

"Well?"

"Long haired chihuaua."

"Aaargh!" I bury my face in my hands.

"It had a spiked leather collar though," she offers.

"Call me William then."

"What not Willy?" she giggles.

"You really do have a death wish."

"William it is. Friends?"

            "Yeah, friends." I extend my hand and we shake on it. "It will probably be best if you go to Paige anyway. Stick around here and you're just a convenient snack. I'll come by and get you tonight. Just don't go wandering the streets on your own; lots of nasties out, not just vampires."

~Dawn~

As a prisoner, it is my duty to escape, right?  At least that's what I always heard in those stupid war movies that Xander use to make me watch when he babysat me.  I mean here I am, trapped in this place and god knows what they have planned for me, and then they go and offer the very thing that I've always dreamed of; a chance to talk to the monks that made me.

Duty. It all comes down to duty and responsibility, and Summers girls are all about responsibility. When did I learn that? Was it something the monks planted, or was it Buffy cramming it down my throat all these years? I think the nice little happy pills the doctor had me on are finally out of my system. God, I feel depressed. I get lost in a blue funk for a few minutes and just sorta stare out into space. Duty, yeah, my duty is to get Spike and Dr. Lawrence back to the future. I got us all into this mess; it's up to me to get us all out.

  Ok. So I need to escape. I examine the room, weighing my options. The first thing I look at makes me feel that escaping is going to be easier then I thought. Stupid fools didn't even think to clean off the dresser, everything I need is right here. Thank god, Spike taught me how to pick locks. I give it a couple jiggles with a hat pin, a turn with a button hook, and the door pops open.

"Great, I've got the door open, now what?" I ask myself in disgust. I still need a plan. So, is there any other place that Spike would think that I would think to go? I cringed at the sound of that last sentence in my head. Geesh, this is not the time to start sounding like Buffy.

What I need now is information, maps, addresses, and such. To bad the Internet isn't around.  So where do you go to find that type information when your stranded in the 1800's? Duh- the library of course! This place is chockfull of Watchers; I know they've got to have a huge one in here someplace.  Now it is only a matter of finding it.

I figure it will be on the first floor somewhere; which means I have to risk the stairs. It looks clear and I make a run for it. Once on the first floor I begin to search, gliding from doorway to doorway, easing them open and peering briefly inside. I found it on my fifth try. The room is huge. It is lined with book cases two stories tall. There are several people scattered here and there, so I dodge in between the stacks, almost bumping into a man wearing a double breasted wool suit.

 "Giles!"

            I find my arms wrapped around the man's waist, before my brain realizes that what I'm seeing isn't possible.

            "Arthur Giles, at your service, miss. Do I know you?" He holds me away from him, and peers at me through half-moon glasses.

            "I'm Dawn."

            "Ah, the young lady of mystery; Rogers told me about your arrival, but I didn't credit it.  He can be a bit delusional at times you see. Always thinking that…well never mind. But if I may ask, how did you know my name."

            "You look a lot like your great-grandson. He's my sister's watcher."

            "Great-grandson you say?  And he's a Watcher?  Isn't that smashing!"

He waves at someone behind me, and I'm sure the jig is up.

            "Ah, Rupert, I want you to meet Miss Dawn."

            Damn, I hadn't even sensed him there, he is a little bit older then me and has that whole blonde haired, Brad Pitt thing going on. God, what a hottie, if I was planning on sticking around I might make a play for him.

            "What's she doing here? She's supposed to be locked up."      

Or maybe not.

"Nonsense, if she was supposed to be locked up she still would be, and if she's escaped why would she be in the library." He looks at me hopefully.

            "I need to do some research so that I can get back home again."

            "See there, a legitimate reason."

            I watch the young man stomp off in a huff and I wonder how long I have until he tells somebody where I am.

            "Please, forgive my son; he's a bit of a fanatic about doing things by the book. I'm hoping he'll grow out of it. Don't worry, if I stay in the library with you there won't be a problem. Now, what information are you looking for? Maybe I can help. I know my way around these dusty old tombs quite well," he said as he fiddled with his pocket watch, swinging it in a slow arch. The amethyst crystal attached to the stem glittered pulling my eyes toward it.

            "That's pretty."

"Yes, it is isn't it? I found this crystal on a trip to Africa."  He dangled it so that the stone caught the light as it swung back and forth.

            "Miss?"

            "Miss? I asked you what type of information you needed."

How long have I been sitting here staring at him? "I need to find out the true name of a vampire called William the Bloody and where he lived when he was a live."

"Oh, yes, that's easy enough. We keep track of all the newly turned vampires in the London area."

He started to flip through one of the leather bound books. "Now you said that he was changed in 1880, and you know that for sure?"

"Yes." When did I tell him that?

"Why don't you start looking and see if any of these might be the fellow that you are looking for."

The book he placed in my hand was almost half full and started with the year 1870. I thumb through it to January 1880 and begin scanning the pages. The list was broken into columns that contained name, aliases, date turned (if known), sire, and column with just letters in it.  "What is this last column?"

"Oh, that's just where we record who dusted them. There is quite a competition between us to see who can rack up the most kills. See, here are my initials."

I scanned through the next few pages in the book searching without luck for William the Bloody or Spike, but I did find twelve more entries in the slaying column marked A.G. The man was no slouch in the fighting department it seemed.

"Here it is! How can I find out where this family lives?"

"You'll want the social registry for that. It's over here." He points toward one of the shelves at the rear of the library and led me to it.

He flips through the book, and jots down the address on a piece of paper for me. "That's near here; would you like me to come with you?"

I thought about saying no, but I may need the help to get out of here. A movement seizes my attention and I catch a glimpse Rupert lurking behind the shelves listening. If he overheard us discussing this I'm probably done for. I want to move quickly, before he figures out a way to stop his father from taking me to Spike's. I've seen what type of tests that they came up with for the Slayer, and I've decided I don't feel like staying and becoming their guinea pig when they find out that I'm the Key.

~Buffy~

            Willow carefully poured the red sand in a circle around the painting.

            "Ok guys, this spell will work only if they are trapped inside the painting," said the witch.

Buffy nodded and chewed on her lower lip.

 "I say the spell and a portal will open in the center of the portrait. You'll have to move fast because I won't be able to hold it long. I'll give you two hours to find them, and then I'll reopen the portal. You'll need to have everyone gathered around the entry point so that I can pull you out" explained Willow.

"What if we can't find them that fast?" asked Buffy.

"If you can't find them and your not back at the portal in time. I'll give you another two hours and try again. I probably have enough energy for two or three tries before I have to have an extended rest."

"And if they aren't in the painting?" Buffy asked.

"I'm not sure. I feel okay doing this because I'm just opening an intradimensional portal. You won't actual even leave the living room. Opening a transdimensional conduit is different. I'd need to know what the projected terminus is so that I don't send you to the wrong place."

"Too many big words there Will. How about breaking it down into something the Xan man can understand."

"Ok think of the painting as…as being a soccer ball. The inside space is all one area. So if you were inside the ball you'd be able to look around and see the entire space. That would be the intradimensional portal. Now the outside of the ball is made up of black and white squares. Think of each one of these squares as being another dimension that's touching our own. Only instead of just fifty squares think of billions and zillions of dimensions and add to that fact that they are constantly shifting and sliding over each other.  Now to open a transdimensional portal I need to hit one of those squares.

"So you're saying that if you don't know exactly what you are aiming at we could end up anywhere." 

"Bingo. Got it in one."

~Dr. Lawrence~

"How are you feeling this afternoon?"  I say, as I visually examine her.  She has some color in her cheeks now and her eyes are clear. I feel her forehead with the back of my hand and it's pleasantly cool.

"Much better thank you." She smiles at me.

"Are you ready to try some soup? Your cook has been keeping some hot for you all day just incase you felt like it." I leaned over to set the tray down on the table and feel the collar of my blouse slide down below the bite marks on my neck. The tray lands rather abruptly sloshing the soup over the edge of the bowl.

"What's wrong with your neck?"

"Nothing, it's just some bug bites."

"That's no bug bite! He bit you didn't he?"

"No." I said as I readjust the collar of my blouse to hide the marks again. Stupid, stupid! I can't believe I just let that happen.

"Maybe not him then, but some vampire did. You can't deign it."

"I'm not going to." She seems stumped by my answer. Good!

"Why do you want to see your brother again so badly?" She looks like she'd been waiting for me to ask that question.                      

"When Father died, Mother locked herself away with the brandy decanter and didn't come out of her room for three months. William took care of me then. He was the one who braided my hair, saw to it that a governess was hired, and took me to the seamstress and helped me pick out fabrics for my clothes."

"I'm glad you had someone to take care of you. You must have missed William a lot when he died."

 "I did, I miss him so much. I miss the way we would sit parlor in every evening and talk. We talked about everything; from some new piece of poetry he had written to the latest scientific discoveries.  And he listened; he was the only person in this whole bloody house that ever listened to me."

I think she expects me to be shocked by her small curse. She should hear her brother.

She falls quiet for a minute and then adds, "I want to see him, and if you don't help me I will go and look for him myself."

I can tell by her earnestness that she means it.

~Spike~

            "So why did Angelus and Darla head for Italy? I can't remember."  It feels pretty strange to be sitting here smoking a fag and making small talk with myself.

            "Darla got tired of the London, and wanted to get away from Dru for a while. Said Dru's prattle was driving her daft."

"Speaking of- what's she singing?" I watch as she twists the wax head off one of her dolls.

"London Bridge, though I think the verse really goes, take the key not catch the key."

The Key! The key equals Dawn!

I snatch Dru off the floor and turn her to face me. "You know where she is, and you're going to tell me."

"Hey, hands off. No one gets to hurt Dru except me."

"I am you, you twit."

"Oh, right."

"Wait! Hands off anyway. I've decided I don't like you, and I'm not going to be you when I grow up."

I ignore him. Dru looks at me and licks her lips; she always did like it rough. "Dru, where's Dawn? Where's the Key?"

"The Watchers have it….but not for long," she laughs.

            "What's this key you're going on about?"

            "It's what I came back for."

            "I knew that clap about a spell going wrong was a bunch of rubbish. So what are you really after, some big treasure?"

            "Yeah, that's it. I need the key to get the treasure.  And if you help me get the key from the Watchers I'll split the take."

            "Well, when you put it that way, I'll come; long as there's something in it for me."