~Dawn~

            "Where did you send him? Where?  He promised he would always take care of me," Paige whimpered.

 "That bastard…" Just like Spike to leave me to clean up his mess. I struggle to carry Rupert over to the couch. Paige staggered over and grabbed an arm to assist me. Between us, we manage to lay him down on the seat. He is too long for it and we leave his legs propped up on the armrest. He looks awkward and uncomfortable, but that's what you're supposed to do for a head injury, right, raise their feet? 

            "You want to let me in on why Spike went and attacked him?" I asked. She ignored my question. I watched her open one of the shuttered windows and leaned out into the night air. Her face was pale. Loose strands of light brown hair clung to her moist cheeks in spite of the breeze. She stood with her back turned to me, clenching her hands on the windowsill, over and over; the knuckles blanching with the force.

            "Why do you call him Spike?" She asked finally, continuing to look out the window.

            "I …ahmm…." Gods, what should I tell her? Spike was her brother, but I just didn't think she could handle even some of the tamer stories that Spike had regaled me with.  "Mmm, it's just a nick name."

            "I realize that," she said condescendingly. "I want to know why it was bestowed on him."

            Okay…It always used to make me laugh the way he told the story, but now that I think of it, it was pretty sick. Well, she asked for it. "Spike got his nick name because he liked to torture his victims. He'd give them a choice- either listen to his poetry or have a rail road stake driven through their head."

            Something inside her seemed to crumple. She sank down to the floor, back against the wall, and rested her forehead against her knees. "It's true then? He is evil?"

            I couldn't help pitying her, maybe I shouldn't have, but I did. She wasn't the only one who had had a bad day on account of Spike. "Your brother is a god damned son of a bitch with a big mouth, a lousy sense of timing, and the impulse control of a three year old, but he's not evil, or at least not as evil as some of the demons I've met."

            She stared at me with her mouth open for a while. I guess I shocked her with some of the language I used.

            "Where did he go?" She asked again.

"Back home." Back to Buffy I thought bitterly.

"You need to send me there," She demanded. "William promised he would away take care of me."

"Well, he promised me that too and he's not here. You'll just have to take care of yourself." We sat in silence for a while, both of us waiting for the Watcher to wake up. In a way I was glad things had turned out like they had. If it all hadn't gone so quickly, I don't think Spike or Dr. Lawrence would have left. I was on my own now…. on my own for the first time in my life.  The thought came as a shock, and I didn't know how to feel about it.

            "On my own", I whispered the words to myself, as if saying them out loud would make them more real.

"What?"

"Ah…I just said you're on your own."

~Dr. Lawrence~

"You shouldn't have left her!" The grim faced man in the pajama bottoms shouted and shook his fist at William.

"She's a grown woman. She had the right to decide what she wanted to do."

"You promised to protect her." The man made an attempt to push William, but the vampire brushed his hand away as if it were and insect.

"I left her with a Watcher. She's fine. You're the one who screwed up. How could you have sent Buffy go into that alone?"  William turned his back toward the man, and grabbed the red headed woman by the arm shaking her. "Where is she Willow? Where is she? 'Cause she sure didn't end up in England with us."

"Let go of her, Spike."

            "Or what….. You bloody poof!

Frustrated the man shoved William and William shoved him back. Why does it always have to denigrate into violence with men?

"Stop it! Stop it…stop it!  The red haired woman tried to push between them. "I didn't intend to send her in alone; Xander was supposed to go with her. And I tried to get her back… I did!

The men continued to ignore us both, busily thumping each other with their testosterone induced hysteria.  The red headed woman yanked at the man, and I pulled on William, but it was no use. William was on top now bashing the poor fellow's head into the carpeted floor over and over.

I stepped back and surveyed the scene with a grimace. "I…Have…Had…Enough!"  I opened the curtain with a snap sending a stream of yellow across the side of William's face.

            He clapped a hand to his cheek and rolled off his hapless victim, "Bloody hell… What didcha do that for?"

            "It was the only way I could think of to get your attention. And now that I have it, I have something to say. You people need to stop fighting and get your act together so you can rescue your friend, because I am sick to death of having to deal with you children. I want a bath, I want a clean clothes, and a scotch! NOW!"

~Dawn~

            "Miss Paige, where ever have you been? I 'ave been so worried. Almost rung the constable I did. And who are all these people?

"Oh, Mrs. Norris, we have had the most awful time. I had Mr. Giles escort me to the station. I knew mother would never remember to pick up my cousin Dawn, and I have been so looking forward to her visit. She's been away at school, you remember. Anyway the service at the station was just terrible. That's why we are so late. They lost Dawn's trunk. It is gone…utterly vanished.   And I am just so tired. Would you be a gem and…"

 Rupert interrupted her babble, "Miss Paige please convey my apologies to your mother for keeping you out so late." The two exchanged a lingering look as Rupert gradually edged his way toward the door.

"Oh, Mr. Giles, do you have to go? Surely you would like to warm yourself by the fire before you have to go out again?

"I beg you forgive my hurry, but I must be off."

 He took Paige's hand in his own and brought it to his lips. Wow, there is something to be said for guys in this time. He turned toward me and gave a little half bow. I guess I didn't rate any hand kissing. "Miss Dawn, I will send you the information we discussed as soon as I can locate the address. Until then, ladies, I bid you good evening." 

"Mrs. Norris, would you see that Dawn's room is ready? Suddenly I am so tired."

"I should think so. You were a naughty girl, going off without telling anyone like you did.  And you just getting over being sick and all.

"Oh, Paige, I didn't realize you'd been sick! Of course you can go to bed. Don't worry about me; Mrs. Norris will take good care of me."

It felt odd to be in Spike's home. Mrs. Norris escorted me to the parlor after Paige left. I wandered around the room trailing my fingers over the mantle and table tops trying to imagine Spike here, living among all lace and doilies. The room seemed almost claustrophobic with its clutter, china figurines covered almost every available tabletop and I felt like I was going to wipe out whole herds of the little things every time I turned around in this skirt. I sat down on the edge of the chair and I tried to picture him, maybe wearing a suit like Rupert's leaning against the mantle, but I couldn't maintain the vision. The shadow kept morphing back to the Spike I knew, wearing his leather duster and bleached hair.

I picked up a small leather book lying on the floor beside the chair. Flipping open the first page I read the inscription. To my darling son- May your poetic muse never lead you astray-Your loving Mother. Well, he certainly got lead astray by something, I smirked.

I couldn't get over the fact that I held Spike's poetry book in my hand. I read the first few. God, they were terrible. I sat in the dark beside the fire for the longest time thinking about Spike and wondering about what he had been like when he was my age. I ran my fingers along the arm of the leather chair and closed my eyes. I could almost smell his scent.

"Miss? Miss… If you'll come with me please? I've turned down your bed and borrowed a nightgown from Miss Paige for you.

****

            "I thought I would never make it through dinner without disgracing myself!"

            "You did fine", replied Paige, as she settled herself on the sofa. "Mother never realized anything was amiss, but I thought Mrs. Norris had swallowed a lemon ball when you used your meat knife to butter your bread."

            "That's wrong?"

            Paige giggled, "Of course it is, you are suppose to use your bread knife".

            I gave her a blank look.

            "The small one with the rounded edges?  The one that was lying across that small plate." 

            "Oh, okay. I'll know better next time." I paused unsure about how to phrase my next question. I didn't want to hurt Paige's feelings; she had been awful nice to me. "I'm not surprised your mother didn't notice.  She drank an awful lot of wine with dinner. Ah, um, has she always done that?"

            Paige looked down at her hands sadly and spoke without facing me. "No, losing my father was hard on her, and then after William died things became worse." She paused. "I did not help matters, then, ranting and raving that William was still alive, and that we needed to find him. I am surprised the doctor did not commit me to Bedlam."

I didn't want her running around trying to find him and accidentally getting herself killed. "You need to realize that you aren't dealing with your brother anymore, or not just your brother. He has a demon inside him."

"Surely there is someway to remove the demon?"

            "I don't know of any, besides if you removed the demon all you would be left with is your brother's corpse. He's dead, remember? The demon is the only thing that is keeping him up and walking around."

            "There must be a way….there must be!" She rubbed her eyes furiously.

I thought I had better change the topic to something fun and what's more fun then gossiping about boys? "So, tell me how you met Rupert?"

"You were there…He saved my life dragging out of harms way. He is so brave." She simpered.

"What? That was the first time you met him and he's already asked you to marry him? Wow! Guys in this time must not have the fear of commitment that the ones in mine do. So are you going to marry him?"

"Oh, yes. He asked Mother earlier today when he brought over the address. He's quite well off, you know, and Mother thought he was quite a catch. I think a spring wedding in the garden will be lovely don't you?"

"But Paige, do you love him?"

"Why do I need to love him? He has access to the council and to magics that I want. I will be a good wife to him and bare his children. What more is there?"

She says it so matter-of-factly that it almost blows me away. "You know, I don't think that's what your brother would want for you."

"And what would my brother want for me?" She said in her iciest tones.

"He'd want you to be happy and in love, I think."

"Well, he is not here, is he? That is what would have made me happy. I loved him. This way, maybe, I will at learn enough magic to undo the harm that has been done to him."

~Dr. Lawrence~

I open the door on the microwave and remove the two cups of coffee, luxuriating in their heat.  I have been cold for a week! Remind me not to schedule my next European vacation in England. I want to go someplace warm! Like the Mediterranean. I force the first cup into the hands of the red headed woman leaning against the counter to my left.  I picking up the second cup and bring it to my lips with a smile. I don't even care if it is instant! Thank god for modern conveniences.

 I steer the woman to the table and urge her to sit. She cradles her head in her hands and ignores the coffee. I look up as William enters, swinging a bottle of scotch in his right hand and a packet of cigarettes in his left. He's followed by the grim looking man who had announced that Dawn's sister had tried to follow us earlier.

He splashes some scotch into the woman's coffee cup and then takes a swig from the bottle for himself. I took the scotch from William's hands and poured a slug of it in my coffee.

"The cops have been all over us. They're convinced that Dawn did something to the Doctor here. No mention of you, Spike. I don't think they realize you were there."

"Damn, you mean Buffy didn't raise a ruckus? Can see how much I'm valued"

"Give it a break. It's not like Buffy thought you'd done anything. The police can't handle what we handle anyway."

"But we need to tell the police that Dawn is ok", I said.

"Just how do you think you're going to explain not one, but 2 missing bodies. If we go to the police now, they will probably want to arrest you." William replied.

"But why…I have no reason to want to harm Dawn or her sister."

"When have the police ever needed a reason to arrest someone?"

"Spike… Why did Dawn stay?" The woman asked.

"Dawn got a lead on those monks that made her. I left her with Gile's great grand father, she'll be fine. She can come back anytime she wants."

"We need her back now! She's the only one who can get Buffy back. I can't do it. It must be something about Dawn's power. I have tried and tried to open the portal back up, but it's like it's jammed. I can force it just so far but then my power bounces back at me."

"When did you first try?" I asked.

"It's been almost 2 days."

"Buffy's been trapped for TWO days! We've got to get her out. No telling what she's facing in there!" William flung himself up out of the chair and began to pace the room.

 "It's not like I haven't tried, but it's like I keep pushing and pushing but something is pushing back with equal force. I get nowhere."

 "Wait!" I grabbed at William's sleeve as he paced by. "William, remember, two days ago Dawn tried to send us back after the fight with the Watchers." 

"Bloody Hell, you're right. What probably happened was that Dawn tried to send us back just when you open the portal for Buffy. Buffy's stuck between. The door can't open and can't close. Stuck good and proper.

"So how do we get her back?"

The red headed woman thumped the table with her coffee mug."If that's true then my power and her power are stuck pushing against one another. So all I need to is withdrawal withdraw my spells and the door should open."

~Buffy~

"Mom?" Buffy squeaked. Buffy looked at the figure in horror, she was sure it was her mom; her mother that had been dead for 8 years.  Beneath the globs of oil, Joyce's features were rotted and decayed. The familiar wrath extended her bony arms; offering Buffy an oily bundle. Buffy didn't move.

            "Here take your sister." The monster said pleasantly.

            "No! That's not my sister!"

            "Buffy, you know we talked about this." The figures jaw didn't appear to move in time with its speech, and the shifting colors gave it an out of sync quality like a badly animated cartoon. "You promised to look out for your sister. It's your duty as the Slayer"

            "No, I don't want too", she whined. Buffy scrambled and thrashed about in the glutinous morass trying to put some distance between herself and the proffered bundle. Her mother trailed behind her. Ribbons of darkness streamed off the bundle as the fiend continue to push it toward her. "You promised me you'd always protect her."

            "No!" Buffy shouted.

            The world shook and rumbled; causing the oily sphere's to dance like the glitter in a snow globe, obliterating the form of the monster. The quake made Buffy become aware of her surroundings again. The monster had been just a hallucination. 

Willow did that! I know she did, Buffy thought. I just have to hang on until she can get me out. "One Mississippi… two Mississippi…"

~Buffy~

Despair pressed in, drowning Buffy in the weight of its inky black cloak. She juggled the baby back and forth; its weight seemed to be increasing by the minute. She pushed through the oily blackness, blindly searching for her mother to give her back this burden.  The glistening blobs obscured everything. The baby kept grabbing at her; wanting more and more, and all she could think of was how badly she wanted to shake it and tell it to just grow up! She didn't want to be responsible. She didn't want to be anyone's mommy.

 In a small part of her mind, Buffy knew that this wasn't real, but that didn't seem to matter anymore. 

~Dawn~

The carriage draws up to the address Rupert has given me. The place is slightly seedy with disrepair and looks more like a walled fortress then a church.

"Miss…? Are you sure you don't want me to wait?"  The coachman asks.

"No…No, I'm sure I will be fine." I am not sure I will be fine at all, but I doubt that a having a carriage waiting will help me escape.  I approach the cloister gate with trepidation, and knock hesitantly on the wooden door with my knuckles. No answer. I knock harder, maybe they are at prays, or something. At last the heavy wooden door opens.

"Hi, my name is Dawn, and I need to speak to one of the monks about something." The guy who opens the door is short, the top of his tonsured head only comes up to my shoulder. The hood of his gray habit flaps against the back of his neck, obscuring part of his face.

"Non siete permessi entare. Non parlo inglese"

I may not speak Italian, but I got the gist when he tried to shut the door in my face. I shove my foot in the crack. "Look, I need to speak to someone. I'm from the Watcher's council.

"Watchers…? Non conoscono niente.  Gente idot."

He tries to shove me back out the door, but I force my way forward. The monk looses his balance, and falls backward on to his rear end. I stifle a giggle. The door hits the wall with a bang, and I step through wondering how far I will get before I find someone who speaks English or they throw me out. From out of nowhere, a silent explosion seems to rock the monastery. It feels like I have passed though some type of barrier. The world glows green for a moment, and I feel sick to my stomach and dizzy. 

The little man screams and scrambles crablike away from me.  "Il Mio Dio." He crossed himself.  "La chiave.... LA CHIAVE.... PADRE...VENUTO RAPIDAMENTE....E LA CHIAVE..

A whole herd of men in gray robes gathers, surrounding me, and holding out thier crusafixes like I am some sort of demon. I stand there shaking. Finally, an old man with a baldhead and papery white cheeks takes my arm, guiding me across the courtyard, and into a small office. The other monks crowd in behind us. The man dismisses them with a wave of his hand and issues some rapid orders in Italian.

"Singnora, sit...sit. I am Monsignor Pitor and you are?

"I'm the Key."

~Doctor Lawrence~

I sit at the table listening to the threesome weave their plans for removing the spells the witch had used to send Dawn's sister into the painting. Withdrawing into myself, I begin to formulate what I will write in Dawn's folder. 

Pt. has discharged self on her own recognizance. Clinical support and medication terminated as­­­­­­­­­____. I make a mental note to remind myself to get a look at a calendar soon so I can find out how long we had been gone. Thank god, it wasn't like the fairy tales where we might have come back 100 years later. 

Pt. seeks to resolve identity issues by beginning search for the origin of her birth. I wish her luck, but I don't think she's going to find what she's seeking. The only place she's going to find what she needs is inside herself. Why is it that I can never seem to convince my patients of this?

I feel so empty and lost, like a pair of mittens left behind on the train. I don't have a purpose anymore; my part in this fiasco is over, and my client has gone on to her own devices. I feel like I failed her. I pour another shot of scotch into my empty coffee mug and look at the people at the table…a witch, a vampire, and … well I didn't know what the young man was but I am sure it wasn't anything normal.  I wonder how I fit in, and why do I suddenly wanted to fit in so badly that my whole body aches? I can get up and call a taxi to take me home and no one would try to stop me. So why do I feel so bereft?

 All the training I have suggests that lots of people blame forces outside of themselves for the way things turn out so they don't have to accept the responsibility for their own actions. It's fate, its magic, it's anybody fault but mine. Erikson, one of my favorite theorists, calls that magical thinking. Magic, I think it's the magic, that's getting to me. Here I have spent years convincing other people that magic wasn't real only to find out it has been real all along. I look around the table again. They aren't looking for excuses, for them magic is a tool to be used, and like any tool it seemed to have its limits. I wondered how often I had overlooked magic as a possible explanation to my patient's symptoms. I will really have to make an effort to do a comprehensive case review when I get back, I thought.

I turn my attention back to the group. They were still discussing the merits of different strategies.  I gave some serious consideration to just excusing myself and calling a taxi to take me home, but Mr. Harris's words made me stop and think. Just what were the police going to say when I showed up without Dawn? If they had been accusing her of murder, how fast would they turn on me when I couldn't produce proof that she was still alive? Shit! I better let the hospital deal with this. One thing about having one bureaucracy deal with another bureaucracy is that it slows down the response time. Hopefully, it will be time enough for both of the sisters to get back, and if it wasn't well there would be no point in putting off the consequences. The voices at the table came to a halt as I picked up the phone and started to dial. As luck would have it, Donald must have been sitting right next to the phone, because he answered it on the first ring.

 "Hi Donald, it's me, Teresa. Yes, I'm here at the Summers' home right now. Yes, yes, everything is all right. No, neither one of the sisters is here right now. They left on sort of a retreat. Yes, I left the hospital willingly… I just didn't have time to leave a message and we have been out of phone contact. Oh, just out in the desert. Ms. Summer's felt the need to show me where she does some of her painting. No, Donald, I don't expect you to tell the police that. I don't expect you to tell them anything at all. Client / Doctor privilege remember. Just tell them that I'm back and they can call the search off. Yes… I will tell the Summers' to call the police as well. They should be back soon. I know it's an unusual treatment technique, Donald, but the situation seemed to warrant some unusual measures. Go a head and call a special investigation, I haven't done anything wrong! You can't tell me how to treat my patients, when I am doing my damnest to act in their best interests. Well if that's the way, the hospital feels then I'll resign. Hell yes I am tired, and I do too mean it! I QUIT. I slammed the phone down on the cradle and turned to find 3 sets of eyes staring at me in shocked silence.

"Bollocks. They can't fire you over this. When Dawn gets back…"

I interrupted, "William, pay attention, they didn't fire me. I quit."

"Shame you had to go and lose your job just 'cause you got tangled up with us", said the red headed woman as she handed me back my cup of coffee.

"Thank you …mmm…Willow."

I pour another shot of scotch in my cup and shrug. "Here's too my new life as a private therapist. God knows how I will make a living; maybe I should specialize in demon psychology?"

"Hmm… Not bad idea. You'd have to have some odd office hours though."

~Spike~

Doc was well on her way to getting royally pissed. She curled up on the sofa with the bottle scotch, having forgone the coffee all together. I know she's exhausted but she won't leave. Don't know what she thinks she can do. I can tell she's blaming herself, and I wonder if I should say something, but I'm not the comforting sort. She'll have to pull her head out of her arse on her own.

I stood by the fireplace, and watched Red smooth out a layer of glittery sand. She drew yet another set of symbols on it.  I watched the sand spark and fizzle again, and hit the wall in frustration. "Blimey, Will! What is taking so long?" She still couldn't figure out how to unknot all the layers of spells she had thrown at the painting while trying to get Buffy back.

Xander ducked under my arm and began to pry up the dented plasterboard with his fingers. "Fucking, shit, Spike, do you know how much time that will take to repair? Lay off Willow, man. She must have thrown a hundred spells at that blasted paint trying to get you all back."

"Quit it both of you. You are breaking my concentration, and this is hard enough!"

Her eyes flashed black and Xander and I both backed away with some trepidation. 

I started pacing again, and drew an evil look from Doc.

            "Would you quit moving? Watching you is making me sea sick…see sick…S.E.E. sick… hehehe. Oh god, I am so going to regret drinking this much tomorrow."

            Will called up the power again. This time, the lattice of glowing spirals that emanated from the painting appeared to be growing thinner.

"All right, this should be the last one!" She exclaimed.

She tinkered with the sand and spouted some more mumbo jumbo. We held our breath as the light surrounding the painting gave a flash bang and was still. For a long moment no one moved, until I noticed Xander turning blue and gave him a shove. "Breathe!"

"Well, where is she? Shouldn't she have just popped right out?" I demanded turning on Willow in disappointment.

"I don't know! I have done everything I know how to do. Damn it, Spike, we need Dawn! Look, I know I can't use the picture to send you back, but I am pretty sure that I can send you to that time period as long as you can give me a month and a year. Spike, you have to convince her to come back, its Buffy's only chance."

~Dawn~

The light dripped through the open window leaving honey colored puddles on the stone floor. My shivering abates as the warmth of the room sinks into my skin. The monk presses a goblet of wine into my hands and gestures for me to drink. I have to hand it to the Italians; wine is a much better stimulant for shock then hot tea with milk.

 Setting the decanter on the desk, he takes a seat across from my own, and stares at me in silence. Rolling his glass back and forth between his palms, he appears to contemplate what I have told him. His silence is so intense that it seems to drown out the sounds coming from garden outside the window. Finally, he places his glass on the table.

 "As you say this will occur... and I must believe you, as you are the key. Bespelled and in human form, but still the Key."

I felt something relax deep inside myself. He believed me! "So you didn't know any of this?"

"The Key came to us many centuries ago. Much of its history has been lost; all we have are our own records. I know only that we hide it from a great evil, that in return it is generous enough to perform a few miniscule tasks for us."

"Like what kind of tasks?" I inquire suspiciously.

Pitor chuckled and whispered conspiratorially, "It, mmm…you provide us with the most wonderful hot baths outside of Rome".  He clasped his hands in ecstasy. "A hot bath is a gift of the gods, is it not?" 

"kachkkkk" I almost spit a mouth full of wine at him as I choked on the image. "You mean… I am some sort of mystical hot water heater?"

"Non, non, you miss understand, the Key is a great power. We only borrow a little in return for our protection."

"Please, you must know more then that. What am I? Who am I?" I pleaded. "The Watcher's said I was a homunculus. What is that?"

 "The Key is a great power that has the ability to open passages between other realms.  As for who you are, Singnora, I do not know. The key is just energy. It has no…ah how you say…personalita….ah… personality. As to the other, a homunculus is a clay figurine made animato…animated by magic. It has the appearance of flesh, but it has no…spirito.  It has no soul." 

I sat there staring at him in disbelief.  I didn't know what to feel… My breathing becomes ragged and I begin to hyperventilate. Am I a soulless freak? 

The priest poured more wine in my cup, gesturing for me to drink. I throw it back in a gulp. Would it be so bad to be soulless? Spike's lived a long time without one and he's pretty cool. What difference would it make really?  Screw that! It makes a lot of difference! I saw how Buffy acted toward Spike when he didn't have a soul…

"You misunderstand. I do not know if you have a soul or not.  I do know we can not make one."

"But you made a body for me… or you will. God, this is getting so confusing."

"Singnora, before this day none of my order had ever considered hiding the Key in a human form. But as it has come to pass; then so it will be…"

 "Wait! So you didn't know you were going to turn me into a human? This was my own plan? YOU MEAN I DID THIS TO MYSELF?" I shouted in disbelief.

"Si…and it is a good one…no? You have survived, and the Uno Senza Nome, she is no more."

"But why did you take away my memories? Why did you send me to the Slayer?"

"I do not know, Singnora, maybe you should ask yourself that."

You mean I can? I thought. I didn't even have the words out when a monk charged in the door speaking in an unintelligible babble and gesturing behind him. I picked up a few words that were similar to the Spanish I learned in high school. It sounded like they had caught and intruder. But I wasn't expecting the next voice I heard.

"Spike! What the hell are you doing here? You're supposed to be home….with Buffy."

"That's the problem, pet, Buffy ain't home. She and Red whipped up a spell to try to find us. Now Buffy has disappeared. Will thinks she's stuck in your painting.  You need to come home. Now!"

"You save her! You and the Scoobies can do anything! Remember? God knows that you don't need me."

"Bollocks! Don't you think we would if we could?  Will says it's your magic and you're the only one who can get her back out. Are you going to leave your sister trapped just because you are chuffed at me.  She's your sister, damn it!

"Where do you get off telling me what to do! I'm not going anywhere, until I get my questions answered!"

Spike and I glared at each other, but he could tell I was serious.

"You'll hurry?"

"Yes!"

I entered the chapel, stepping in front of the old man. The stone walls were washed in a green glow that emanated from the glowing sphere at the end of the nave. So that's what I really looked like…hmm. Well, I wasn't beautiful, but I guess the color could be considered pretty; candy apple green, spring green, and new leaf green all rolled up into a gigantic ball.

Spike started to hum; "It Ain't Easy Being Green" and I elbowed him in the ribs. Slowly I began to walk toward the sphere with my hand out stretched. "Mmm…hi…I just wanted to see you…ah… me… and ask you some questions. 

My fingertips touched the sphere and seemed to stick. I tried to pull my hand back, but the green seemed to ooze up my fingertips and swallowed my elbow. Spike took my other arm and attempted to pull me loose. The light dimmed and flashed as it drew me toward its center. I screamed in terror. My body was dissolving; I could feel my bones melting under the intensity of the energy.

Somewhere, between my toes turning to viscous goo and my spine melting into a glob of green jello, I stopped screaming.  I seemed to be able to see in a 360° arc. Thank goodness most of the view was blank wall and floor or I would never have been able to pull my focus back together. As it was, I felt sick enough to up-chuck.  This made me realize that I was feeling things again, although not feeling them with the same intensity as before. It was more like remembering how something felt more then actually feeling it. I could hear too, well sorta. Everything sounded like it was coming from deep underwater. Spike was screaming at the monk to do something. He sounded like Jaba the Hut, all slow-mo and gurgly.

"Hello…" I thought.

Hello… My voice echoed back. Oh shit, my mind's empty it echoes.

Hahhehe

The giggle startled me. "Mmm…hi…I just wanted to ask some questions."  I paused; nothing happened, not even the giggle. I remember one of mom's old sayings; it's okay to talk to yourself, but when you expect yourself to answer, there's a problem.  God, what if it didn't know anymore, then I did. Shit! Well maybe I need to be more specific in what I asked. "Why am I here…I mean why are we, the key, here in this specific place with the monks?" 

The minute I uttered the thought, I felt like I was plunged into a vat of evil black tar. Its pungent odor seemed to cling to me filling my nose with the acid smell of a thousand flattened skunks. I retched with nausea until I felt like I had turned myself inside out.  The sensation was so intense and terrifying that I if I had still had a body I would have passed out.

I focused down on the smaller swirls of green that streaked the black, until the nausea receded to a more tolerable gut knotting ache. The green seemed to dodge and weave through the black abyss, trying to escape the malevolent darkness as it tried to bind the green to itself with dark tendrils. A purple mist was there too. It seemed to swell and then retreat, but I didn't understand what I was supposed to be seeing. All it reminded me of, was one of those swirlly sand painting things, the ones where you shake and the sand drips down making a new picture each time.

"I'm sorry…I don't understand." I tried to keep the whine out of my voice.

There was a pause, the sand painting disappeared, and I could see the chapel again.  A whole herd of monks had appeared in the room, waving their incense, and rattling their prayer beads. Spike was squished up against the back wall, but I could still see him there. He was all vamped out like he tends to do when he gets upset.  Humph…He's probably shitting in his britches that I wouldn't be around to save his precious Buffy, I thought.

That made me feel petty, which made me feel mad. I mean she is my sister! I do love her, most of the time, and I don't want her trapped in some other dimension forever. I focused my mine back to the task at hand; the sooner I found out what I had came for, the sooner I could work on saving her.  It would be nice to save her for a change. I was getting so tired of that 'Oh, Dawn's in trouble it must be Tuesday attitude of hers'Like she was 'all superhero' and didn't get her butt in hot water every once in a while.  The Scobbies had saved her lots, and has she ever said thank you? No!

"Look, can you explain it on a level I can understand?" The sensation that followed felt a lot like Glory rooting around in my brain and almost sent me over the edge into another panic attack, but this time the picture that formed was familiar.  It was a sunny day in good old Southern California. I was swinging on the swings in front of Jackson Elementary school. I had to be about seven or eight. Geesh, I was such a little fattie! Thank god for puberty, at least I thinned out then.  I could feel myself responding to the image, my legs pumping, and my arms pulling; forcing myself higher and higher. When out of nowhere I felt someone grab the chain, breaking my forward moment and sending me crashing down into a sobbing heap on the playground dirt. Nails dug into my arm and I found myself being shaken like an old rag. I looked up and it was Glory! I pulled away with all my strength and scrambled backward banging my head on the swing. She stalked after me, shouting obscenities, and accusing me of making her break a nail. I scuttled rapidly on all fours, backing into a pair of legs covered in a long woolen habit. It was Pitor- or someone who looked just like him. The monsignor stepped between me a Glory, protecting me from her. I would have run away at that point, but more monks surrounded the swings, trapping me in a circle with them. Weapons appeared a glowing sword with a crucifix embedded in the handle and an iron axe attached to what looked like a femur of some large animal. The two began to fight, ignoring me for the moment.

 The monks in the circle began calling my name, shouting, 'come here Dawnie, we'll keep you safe'.  One of the monks held out a plate of cookies tempting me with them. I snatched a cookie from the plate and dodged away from their grasping hands. Mom had always said I shouldn't take candy from strangers but she didn't say anything about cookies and this one looked particularly good; all warm and gooey, chocolate oozing out over my fingers. I gleefully bit into it, and then spat it out with a disappointed shutter. Ugh! It tasted like sawdust and iron bars. I felt the world go all swimmy strange. Hands grabbed and pulled my away. A trap!

Glory spied what was happening and behead the first monk with a gleeful cry. She began to come after the monks that had me, screaming and hacking at them with fierce determination.  They fought her off sheltering me with their bodies until they finally completed the spell that transported me here.

I was back in the chapel again and this time I was able to pick out the shimmer of purple light that both bound me to this place and protected me from Glory.  I waited for a while and when nothing else came to me, I realized how silent it was in the room and it dawned on me that there was no one else in the chapel.  I was alone! Even Spike was gone. He'd gone back to Sunnydale, back to her! I felt like stamping my feet in frustration. Then I remembered she was trapped in my painting. Ha! Now she couldn't have him either!

Okay they trapped me. Some part of me already knew that. The dream I remembered was true but it wasn't complete, I had forgotten how Glory and her minions had harried me. Other things were coming back now. I remember just how pathetically grateful I had been for the monks protection and how interested I had been in their daily lives. I had never paid much attention to humans before that time. They had seemed like bugs to me, earth bound and short lived bugs at that; nothing like me. I remember being fascinated by how they interacted with each other. It was addictive, like soap opera, and at some point I started wanting to be apart of it. Oh gods, it really was my idea! I even allowed them to use my energy to heat the water in this place! I am surprised they ever sent me to Buffy. I could still be stuck here powering their light bulbs.

 Speaking of…"Why did they send me to Buffy?"

My view of the chapel went greener then it all ready was, and the world seemed to bounce up and down as if I was inside a green rubber ball. I felt like I had just been shrugged at, like…it…I was saying I don't know. All right, it hasn't happened to you yet either so I guess it's logical you don't know. I wasn't happy about it not being able to answer my question, but I didn't want to blame myself for something that was out of its….my control.

Ok the last important question. "Can you tell if I am real? Do I have a soul?"

The world exploded with the brilliance of a million crystal snowflakes glittering in the sun, and for the first time I saw the inter-consecutiveness of everything. It was what Willow was always going on about how energy from a high spot flowed to where it was low. Witches, demons, and angels acted as little dams, some collecting dark energy and some light. I knew what the key was now. I wasn't a lock pick, but more of a magical engineer. I could channel the flow of magic between dimensions. I saw so many worlds, some I had visited, and some that were still waiting to be explored. I saw it all…and it was boring. Only I had never realized it until the monks rescued me from Glory. I wanted to be human! The monks had cared about me. They didn't put me in this body just to hide me. I had asked, no begged them for it. They cared for me. They had died protecting me from Glory. They died giving me my wish and I knew now that only my form had changed.  I was still who I was. I had just learned and grown. 'What is essential is invisible to the eye'. Doc was right my form didn't change anything. I still existed, I was me. Replete unto myself. It didn't matter! It didn't matter what form I wore, I am REAL. 

I don't know how long I floated in that happy, hazy heaven of belonging before the thoughts of all family and friends started crowding into my brain. I realized I had a choice, Buffy was never suppose to die on that tower. I would have just changed forms again…be what I was now, and that wouldn't be so bad…boring yes, but Glory would be dead anyway so the world wouldn't end. I could choose to give it up; make it easier for all of us.

In an instant, I knew what I had to do. Go back, rescue Buffy, and offer her that choice. Between us, we could change the past. No dying…no being torn out of heaven and raised from the dead…no First…just a fresh start for the two of us.

 "How the hell do I get out of here?" I thought. There wasn't an answer, and I realized there wouldn't be one. Sometime during that feeling of belonging my psyche had united. The Key and Dawn had merged. I would have to figure this out on my own. Then a realization hit me with the force of a hurricane. Oh, shit! I don't have a body to go back too. I'm dead! 

"I'm dead. I am dead. I…am…dead." I said it to myself several times in rapid succession trying to take in the enormity of that fact.  I kept talking to myself, "I don't have to go back. I am dead. I don't have to do anything. Not save Buffy, not complete the work for the gallery showing, and no need to worry about finding a boyfriend who could deal with all the weird shit now. I am dead. No need to deal with what happened between Spike and me. I…am…dead."

Well, is that so bad? That's how this whole thing started anyway! I wanted to be dead. I wanted to be dead so I wouldn't have to deal with all the shit that being in a family brings, but now that I had seen how boring and lonely the other side of the coin was, I didn't want to be dead. Suddenly, I didn't want to be dead at all. Dying must be kin to Mrs. Corbin's electric shock therapy. I could see clearly now. What, the hell, had I been thinking, trying to kill myself!

            I want to go back. I need a body to go back to…preferably my own. I know the monks made this body…somehow, so I should be able to make a body too. All I have to do is find out how they did it. I need a monk! I shifted my focus to the chapel again but no one was there. Why is there never one of those gray robed pests around where you can find one? I pushed up trying to force my way out, only to hit the purple web that hid me from Glory. I ricocheted around the room like a pinball on speed until the energy was spent and I rolled back to my assigned place. Okay, that wasn't going to work.

Time to think things through. The missing piece has to be here somewhere…I just have to see how things fit together. I think I almost saw it when we merged. Okay what do I know about myself as the Key. Well, I can channel magic between dimensions, and I make a damn fine water heater….grrrr.

What do I know about myself that will help? I'm good a research…I make a mean spaghetti…I am a really good artist. Artist…paint…painting…there was something there, if only I can remember. Why do I keep thinking about Dru and that painting? What was it? I was looking at the painting, and I brought my hand up, and I…wondered what would happen if I pushed. That's it! If I paint I picture of myself and go through I should wind up back inside myself! I bounced up and down for a few seconds and then settled on the floor with a thud. Paint… How stupid could I be? There is no paint here, and I don't even have hands to hold a paintbrush. All I am is energy in this form. Energy…E=mc something. How do people use energy to make art? Lasers!

Burning the picture of myself into the wall wasn't as easy as I'd imagined. I had to concentrate and focus my power down so it would chip the stone not blast it to bits. The first time I tried, I smashed of a chunk the size of my head to rubble, which left a gapping dent about where my stomach would have been. I moved over to the next section of wall and tried again. This time a smaller shower of pebbles fell to the floor. I practiced with that for a time and once I got good, I tried to go even smaller. Now shower of fine sand fell to the floor. I had my tool! This I could use this to carve with.

 I settled into using my pencil sized chisel taking off only small layers of stone at a time. Maybe it was the form I was in but it was easier to work in negative space now. I could see barriers between dimentions so figuring out the height and depth I needed to sculpt my body was not much of a challenge. I took more time on the face. The whole time I was doing it I kept wondering if this was what I really looked like?  I also couldn't help but wonder what would happen if I made my feet smaller or my eyes bigger or if I forgot and left something off. Just encase I settled in and made my chisel even smaller trying to put even finer detail to my creation. When I had added the last eyelash and shaped the split in my pinky toe's nail where I had torn it off riding a bike when I was twelve and it hadn't grown back yet.  I added the scar on my leg where I slid into the piece of rock during softball practice I wanted all those memories. I hesitated about adding the newer cut on my arm where I tried to kill myself, but since I wanted to retain those memories too I added it. And when I judged to be finished I pushed.

An orb of glowing energy pulsed briefly then shivered and solidified in a young woman with long brown hair.

Hi Buffy

Oh, Dawn, I'm so glad I found you. Where are the others? We need to get out of here. Its okay Buffy, Spike and Doctor Lawrence are already back home. I came to rescue you. You rescue me? What a laugh, I came here to rescue you!

I don't need rescuing right now, but it looks like you could use some help. Willow wasn't able to bring you back. You've been stuck here awhile. Are you ready to go?

If Willow can't bring me back, then how do you know you can?

I did a little time traveling while I was gone, and got to visit the Monks. Buffy looked at her blankly. You remember the ones that made me. Well, when I visited with them they taught me how my power works. I was never supposed to remain in this form. Glory's death should have released me, but it didn't.

Dawn looked her sister in the eye. The Powers didn't give you a choice when they made you the Slayer. I understand that. The monks didn't give me a choice when they captured me either. But I'm whole now, and I can choose what I want to be, and where I want to be. I want you to have the same choice.  I can't change the PTB's decision to make you the slayer, but I can give you a choice now. I can take us out of this place to any dimension… to any time you want.

With a wave of her arm the scene shifts. The two girls stood on a platform overlooking a swirling abyss, around them their friends engaged in a silent battle.

You don't have to jump, this time. You could just let me go. I wouldn't really die, I'd just return to my natural form a little sooner.

No, Dawn. That's not a choice I'm willing to make. I couldn't live with myself if I'd let you jump.

The scene reformed and changed. The key and the slayer floated formlessly in a miasma of warmth, love, and safety.

You could stay here, where you'd be happy again. I would make sure they didn't drag you back this time.

She could see Buffy thinking about it.

Dawn, why are you doing this? You're just making it that much harder.

I'm doing this because I want you to have some control over your own life.

Epilog

            From the LA Times

Well Known Artist Responds to Allegations of Art fraud

Santa Monica artist Dawn Summers responds to charges of attempted fraud brought by Metropolitan Museum of Modern Art. MMOMA purchased the unsigned work, simply titled- nude on a red sofa, at an auction in Prague this summer for a little over five hundred thousand pounds.  While carbon dating of the canvas places the painting in the late 1800's, further evaluation, performed after the purchase, indicates the use of modern pigments. The issue of the paintings origin was further complicated by gallery documentation that substantiates the painting's existence as early as 1910. The painting was traced to Ms. Summers by the work of Heim Becker, a renown brush stroke expert.  

Ms. Summers explains that the mix-up in dating probably occurred due to her purchase of the canvas at a rummage sale. She was less certain about the letters, which contain detailed descriptions, saying only that there must have been a similar painting in existence at that time, and that as far as she knows the letters themselves are not fraudulent. Ms. Summers reports that the completed canvas was given to the model, who at the time resided London. However, efforts to track down the illusive woman have failed. Ms. Summers denies any deliberate attempt on her part to defraud the museum, which purchased the work.

Ms. Summers is represented by the Kline Gallery of New York and will be hosting a one-woman show there later on this fall.

~Spike~

I wasn't much thrilled with her new apartment. The loft of the old warehouse had a spectacular view…of the other warehouses surrounding the wharf.  "You know you didn't have to move out."

"What you don't like my apartment? I am hurt! You know if you stand right over there…I even have a view of the beach."

 Dawn gestured toward the spot about three feet from the corner of the far window. I obligingly climbed on the edge of the bed and looked out the window. I could just make out a rough triangle of rocky shore and gray water. "I bet its real pretty in daylight, Nibblet."

"You haven't called me Nibblet in a long time.

"No…you're all grown up now. Grown up with a right vengeance," I repeated bitterly.

"Come on, Spike, admit it Dr. Lawrence was right the three of us were too enmeshed."

"But what if something happens? The world seems to try to end itself every fucking May."

"Well, it's not like I can come back, almost as quick as you can make a phone call. She gestured to the paintings hung over the bed: pictures of Buffy's living room, my old crypt, and Xander's apartment.

"Besides, it was just awkward, you know, with you and me….and Buffy."

I nod slowly.

"But I am glad you and Buffy agreed to go to family counseling. Doctor Lawrence has been a big help in dealing with the whole master of my fate thing. So how are you and Buffy getting along?

"Didn't think Buffy would go for the group counseling scenario, but let me tell you it has really broadened her horizons. That mixed marriage group Doc runs, between demons and their significant others, has really loosened her up. 'Course I had to search Buffy for weapons the first couple times we went, but once Doc got that antiviolence spell up and running  we've really been able to work on some issues…

"Ok, it's ready. I've tried to include all the details you gave me. When we go through the painting, it should still be light enough for us to see. I didn't want to leave it too late and risk missing her; so you be sure to keep yourself covered up."

I examine the painting critically looking for flaws in the St. Christopher's cemetery that I remembered. It was near perfect. "Do you know exactly were we will come out?"

"We should land in the shadow of that big crypt; that's what I used as a focus. Do you think we will find her?"

"Yeah, I know we'll be successful because it already happened for her." I answered. "Got the chloroform?"

"Check."

"Let's do it then."

I held my twelve year old sister in my arms for a moment longer before placing her gently on the front step. I looked back over my shoulder at Dawn, marveling once again at the resemblance between them.