CHAPTER 9: CHRYSALIS

Black
The heart inside you
The soul inside me
The power of night
Tis the answer for life

I hold the keys to unlock your dreams
Pleasures beyond this world has ever seen
I am desire. I am control
I am the light and darkness inside your soul
I'm inside your soul

~ Black, Jag Panzer
______________________________________________

Light dust floated and spun on the updraft created by the thick, orange candles that burned in a rough circle around the spell caster, her breath the vehicle of their movement. Exhale, inhale and forgotten, her eyes dropping to the paper spread out before her on the floor as the dust began to fall, settling upon its surface, invisible in the flickering light.

Willow frowned within her five-pointed star and sighed. "I got nothing," she admitted moodily, staring down at the yellow dots moving around on the map. They reminded her of little blinking Pac-Man ghosts, chasing each other around mindlessly, just as erratic and twice as frustrating. "Lots of demons, but nothing special. And the locator spell couldn't home in on her at all." She looked up, accidentally catching Faith's eye, and quickly looked away over at Giles.

The Watcher made a small thoughtful gesture and pushed his glasses back up to the bridge of his nose. "Well, we expected this," he said, looking as if he were trying not to look disappointed. "We'll keep trying. Surely there must be… something."

"Giles," she spoke up, earnest. "If you were my anchor we could try the other spell we talked—"

"Willow," his voice was a weary warning.

She was about to press him when Faith shifted her stance, clothes rustling and drawing Willow's attention. The Slayer turned her head toward Giles, expression contemplative as she folded her arms over her chest. It was clear she was struggling with whatever idea she was having, but she seemed determined to tell him, even though her eyes dodged the Watcher's as she spoke up.

"Giles… I think she might be right. You up for being her anchor? Whatever that means?"

"Faith, it's far too—"

"Dangerous," the Slayer finished, and though she shifted as if she were uncomfortable, she met his eyes this time. "I know. But it's already been two days and we've got nothing. I think the apocalypse is gonna rate a little higher on the dangerous scale if we don't figure out how to stop it."

Willow cut Faith a dark, cautious glance, reminding herself that the Slayer was simply trying to get the job done, not defend Willow—and hey, there was a mind-boggler! Faith, trying to do the job of a Slayer. Willow wasn't sure if she liked the change or not, but she grudgingly had to admit that Faith wasn't doing too terrible a job. So far. Like now. The Slayer seemed to be bending Giles' ear in a way she couldn't. Willow glanced back at Giles as if watching a tennis match, curious to see what he would say.

But it was Faith who spoke again. "The Oracle said Blackwell has something to do with this apocalypse, Giles. She might be the only link we have. We have to do whatever we can to find her."

Tenth sat nearby, bronze face mostly obscured by the dim light, and Willow could sense more than see the nod he gave.

She thought about saying something, adding her own querulous push, but looking at Giles' face and remembering his reaction to anything having to do with her and magic lately, she decided silence might be the best approach.

"I don't know if any of you understand what this kind of spell can demand of the caster."

"What's the worst that can happen?" Faith asked, fatalistic and bordering on sarcasm.

Giles eyed her, quite serious. "Calling on a planar creature for insight presents many dangers. First of all, the creature may decide to kill the caster."

"Can it do that?" Faith asked, considerably sobered.

"Certainly. You see, in order to speak with such a creature you must go into the plane where it dwells. The astral plane is the least dangerous of all, and the closest to our own world, but even there… if the creature that is called turns on the caster, it will be far more dangerous than fighting a normal demon in combat. It's their realm, and often, their rules. Not only that, but when the caster is sent out from their body in astral form, they open themselves to all sorts of vulnerabilities." He paused a moment, gathered his thoughts. "For instance, your astral form takes its appearance from your mind; sometimes it can be quite different than the appearance you have on the material plane. It may show you aspects of yourself you don't expect. Also, things do not exist there as they do here. There may be nothing familiar or recognizable to the caster. Both of these things can result in terrible confusion. So much so that if the creature were to attack, the caster would be caught defenseless."

"Yeah? And?" Faith prodded.

"If the astral form is attacked, the damage will manifest itself in the body. If it is killed…" He let his eyes travel between Faith and Willow's, quite serious. "The body dies."

For a moment they were both grounded by the seriousness of that.

"So…" Faith said, slowly following that logic. "We just make sure we call on a nice, fluffy creature, right?"

He sighed, as if disheartened but not surprised that they hadn't given up, and circled around the other side of the table, thinking. "We can certainly appeal to a kind deity to grant the spell, but beyond that…" he shrugged. "We simply have to hope that the deity will be appeased enough to send one of its own emissaries."

"Well? How do we make that happen?"

"Offerings… praise…" Giles made a vague gesture that suggested he wasn't certain that would be enough.

"Okay, so we carve up a few chickens, maybe some lambs, burn a bunch of candles and dance widdershins naked 'til the Goddess gets a happy. Simple enough." Faith shrugged. Giles made an annoyed expression, as if he were about to argue with her, and she broke in before he could get going again. "Look, Giles, I don't want to put anyone in danger, either, but it's that or maybe we all die." She glanced over at the witch. "Willow knows that, too."

Willow nodded once, still keeping her silence, watching, fascinated. It looked like Faith might actually talk him into it.

Giles ran a hand over his jaw, steely blue eyes deeply troubled. The lines in his face created a telling landscape, formed with reluctance and indecision.

"Very well," he agreed at last, voice resigned and tinged with regret. "I suppose we must."

Willow folded up the map and bounced eagerly from the floor of the training room. "Don't worry Giles, it'll be fine. Besides, you're gonna be there to anchor me, right? Like…" she frowned slightly, searching for inspiration. "Like a human seat-belt!" she exclaimed, triumphant, her smile broad. "See? Completely safe."

"I certainly hope so," he murmured, not sounding convinced.

For a moment, his reply troubled her, and then she shook her head and let it go. Giles was a worrywart by nature, came with being British. She was a powerful, knowledgeable, talented witch with years of experience under her belt.

What could go wrong?

*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

Xander followed in the swaggering footsteps of the blond, cocky vampire, feeling clumsy and gangly in comparison as they weaved through the tombstones in the graveyard. Sometimes he thought being undead must instantly imbue you with some kind of evil, innate coolness.

Inside his mind, the late-night cheesy TV announcer guy who so often did running commentary on his life spoke up.

"When you become undead, you'll receive your cool card. The Cool Card certifies you to be smooth, cool, cat-like and deadly above and beyond the laws of nature. In addition, when you join, you'll not only receive official member benefits, you'll also get mystique! Broodiness! Attitude! A sexy body! Whether you're freak or geek, becoming undead can make you into the man you always wanted to be! Yes, you'll be room temperature, but the women won't care. Yes, people will chase you around and try to kill you with stakes, but the Slayers won't because they'll be too busy trying to get busy with your mysterious, black-clad booty! And that's not all! Act now and you'll receive this rebellious leather trench coat absolutely FREE! Still not enough? Well act now and we'll also throw in this swagger, at no cost to you. That's right! Absolutely FREE OF CHARGE! The only thing you'll pay for is your immortality, and all it will cost is your soul! It's easy! It's cheap! So become a card-carrying member of the undead today!"

Call now to become one with Evil. Operators in hell are standing by.

Sometimes, he thought his mind was a very strange place to live. And, okay, maybe he was being a little overly. It wasn't like his life was so bad. He had a great girlfriend, good friends, was an average carpenter that made good wages by day and superhero sidekick that fought exciting battles against evil by night. It wasn't like he was lacking for anything. He took a mental step backward, watched Spike move with deadly, unnatural grace and experienced a moment of envy, flavored with a hot dash of something he wasn't quite willing to define. Nope, not overly. In fact, not overly enough. Note to self—

He realized quite suddenly that Spike had stopped walking. There was somebody up there… a woman? What, they were appearing out of the bushes now? Figured.

He rolled his eyes, disgusted, and called out as he moved to catch up. "Hey Spike, we can take care of your social life la—"

Whoa! Was the length of that dress even legal?

"Cherry," the vampire greeted, sounding surly.

But amazingly, she wasn't looking at Spike. Xander half-turned around, wondering what could be behind him that was so riveting.

"He's cute," Cherry purred, edging around Spike a little more.

Xander half-heartedly put a finger to his chest. "Me?"

"He's off limits," Spike said in a voice that brooked no argument.

"Why? Is he yours?" Cherry asked Spike, coy and playful as she eyed Xander up and down.

"What?" Xander blurted, shocked. Nervous, high-pitched laughter escaped him. "No, no," he went on, casual voice sounding fake even to his own ears. "Just two guys out for..." what, Xander? You're gonna tell this woman you're out patrolling for vampires while you're walking around with one? "…for a moonlight stroll." Oh yeah, that was better. "Not in a date way," he added hastily.

Spike cut him a bemused sideways glance.

"Well, if you're not Spike's, then…" she licked her ruby lips and took a stiletto-heeled step closer to him. "Maybe you'd like to be mine."

"Enough, Cherry. Let the boy be," Spike broke in, sounding impatient. Of course he sounded impatient, Xander thought. Spike was always impatient when he wasn't getting what he wanted, and right now, Xander was getting the attention.

"I think the boy can speak for himself, Spike," Xander said, taking a step forward and giving Cherry another look up and down. A warning bell chimed in the back of his mind, but it seemed faraway, distant, unimportant. There was nothing wrong with looking, was there? It wasn't like he was looking to date the girl, but it was nice to be the one getting a little attention for once. God, she was gorgeous. Not that Anya was any slouch, but this girl… Anya! The thought occurred to him like a life preserver to a drowning man. What would Anya think? He could imagine quite well what Anya would think, if she were here, she'd be… his eyes traveled back down Cherry's not inconsiderable assets, as if unable to help himself. The warning bell was a vague memory now, and the vision of Anya's anger seemed blurry. Anya wouldn't mind. She was a good girlfriend. Very accommodating. Mesmerized, he took another step closer to the succubus.

Spike stepped between them again, putting his hand on Xander's chest, and Xander was seized by a sudden, inexplicable anger. It roared in his chest like a bonfire, demanding his fists to remove Spike from his path.

"Harris. She's a succubus."

"A wha?" His befuddled brain forgot the urge to hit Spike for the moment.

Spike gave a heavy sigh. "A succubus. You know, kisses you, shags you, sucks the life out of you, kills you?"

"Aw, come on, honey," Cherry cajoled in her silken voice, words intruding between Xander and Spike once again. "You're not gonna let a little thing like that stop ya, now are you?" She tipped Xander the sexiest wink he'd ever seen, and he wondered how she could keep her eyes open at all with lashes that thick and dark.

Xander considered what Spike had said for a moment. Kissing, shagging…great! Okay, life sucking; not so much fun, death; kind of permanent. He put the items on his internal scale and weighed them for about half a second. "No, that sounds fair," he acquiesced.

He started to walk around Spike again, and saw the vampire's morose expression.

"Aw," he patted the vampire's shoulder, mock-comforting him. "What's wrong, Spike? Feeling the burn of the Harris charm?" he asked with a grin and puffed himself up.

Spike's face worked through several difficult emotions, and finally he heaved a disgusted sigh and looked at Cherry, regretful and apologetic. "Sorry luv. Much as I'd love to, I can't let you eat him."

Xander opened his mouth to make a hot retort—and got a fist full of Spike right between the eyes.

The world wavered, then spun once and shut down completely.

Spike grabbed his head and shouted in pain, then fell to his knees. When it subsided he cursed and stood, cutting the succubus a nasty look.

"You and me, we need to talk. And make it quick. You need to be gone by the time he wakes up."

"Sure thing, sugar." Cherry grinned, seeming unperturbed by Spike's reaction. "I don't wanna get in the middle of a lover's quarrel. You know, you boys sure are cute together," she confided with a wink. "Bad break up?"

Spike glowered.

"Okay, okay," she said, rolling her eyes. "What do you wanna know?"

*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

Four supplication rituals and an honorary "Sun Dance" later, Faith watched as Giles and Willow prepared for the spell and wondered if she'd done the right thing.

Sure, she'd been kind of forceful with Giles, and her arguments had even made sense, but playing tough was easy. She'd been doing that her whole life. The sick, churning feeling in her stomach reminded her that she was taking responsibility for other people's lives now. It wasn't like playing the solo badass, where life and death revolved solely around her. She might not harbor any love for the witch, but she'd made this decision, and if anything bad happened to Willow… she didn't know if she could handle the guilt.

Still, it wasn't like they had much choice. She bit back a sigh and thought of Buffy, wondering how the petite, perky blond had dealt with all of this on a daily basis. This whole Slayer gig, taken beyond simple killing, was turning out to be one hard choice after another, and she wasn't at all sure she should be the one making them. But again, it wasn't as if they had much choice. She was the one this whole thing revolved around, if what half of Tenth had said were true. They hadn't discussed it much, but she could see in their covert glances and hesitant words that they all thought Faith would be the one assuming the role of savior or destroyer. And given Slayer history, the predictions and her dreams, she was inclined to agree. And that meant making choices, no matter how tough they were.

She just hoped they'd end up landing her on the side of saving.

Willow and Giles moved to the center of the new sand circle they'd made on the floor, this one also five pointed, but interspersed with archaic symbols and crude depictions of the sun. The Watcher settled down, sitting Indian style, and Willow laid down in front of him, resting her head on an old, patterned pillow that looked as if it belonged on Giles' couch.

"Now," Giles said, looping a makeshift necklace over his head. A large, clear crystal hung suspended at the end of it, and a bit of light swirled lazily in its milky depths. "This crystal you've imbued with your essence will keep us linked during your journey. If at any time you become frightened or anything should threaten you, you can use it as a focal point, like a beacon to follow back here."

"And what happens if she can't?" Faith asked, trying to keep her concern from showing.

"The energy in the crystal is still part of her, it's only borrowed. It will want to rejoin with her, and will lead me to her in the same way she can follow it back." His brows beetled together in a slight frown, and Faith found herself wondering if he were quite as sure of that as he sounded. "It should be fairly simple. It's… as much safety as we can have."

"I still think we should have sacrificed a chicken," Anya said, sounding broody.

"There's nothing that says the Sun God Shamash demands blood sacrifices," Giles said.

Anya rolled her eyes and gave a dismissive shake of her head. "With the Gods it's almost expected, like a, a handshake, or," her face lit up with inspiration, "slipping them a twenty."

"I fail to see how a dead, bloody bird could curry us omniscient favor."

Faith couldn't resist. "Yeah, 'cause you shaking your tail feathers and rattling that gourd a little while ago? That was sexy."

"It's a traditional dance," he protested, almost petulant.

The door to the shop opened and Xander staggered in, looking like he'd met with the wrong end of a baseball bat. A moment later, Spike strutted in behind him.

"Xander!" Anya exclaimed, hurrying over to him. "What happened?"

"Oh, nothing much," he said, voice flat and sarcastic as usual. "Spike decided to save my life by knocking me out."

"Yeah, I feel just horrible about it," Spike said, sounding genuine.

Xander did a double-take. "You do?"

"Yeah, don't know what I was thinking, saving your hide," he replied cynically and strolled off, aloof, as if he had pressing business elsewhere in the shop.

Xander took another step inside the shop and paused as his eyes fell on Giles and Willow at the center of the mystical circle.

"So," he asked with forced brightness. "What's going on here?"

"Oh, Willow's going to the astral plane and Giles is going to be her airbag," Anya explained. She gave a tiny look over her shoulder at them. "They're probably going to die."

Giles had a rejoinder for that, but their voices fell away, distant and unimportant when Faith noticed Spike approaching her.

"We have to talk," he said, sharp face intent.

Great. "Is the world going to end?" she asked, only half-kidding.

He hesitated.

"Now? Today?" she specified with sarcasm, brows rising.

"No."

"Then it can wait 'til after the spell."

*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

Cones of incense burned all around Willow, the ancient smells of myrrh and cinnamon mingling in an intoxicating whirl, allowing her to imagine the world in simpler times, when magic was commonplace and the pharaohs slept beneath the earth in silent shrines. She felt giddy and young, like the teenager she'd been not long ago, filled with restless energy and a sense of everything being new and exciting. Her heart pounded, its rhythm slightly accelerated with expectation and just a touch of tasting the forbidden. Everyone thought this was too dangerous, but she knew she could handle it. Still… she was grateful that Tara's studies had kept her from the shop tonight. If Tara knew what she was doing…

Giles touched her hand; the signal for her to begin the chant.

Her voice rose up, clear and distinct on the smoky air.

"Shamash, God of the Sun, illuminate the darkness that I might see,
send a servant of your knowledge to bear your wisdom to me"

She felt something in the air around her shift and change, but before she could discern what she felt, Giles touched her again. Prayer to the Sun God complete, she began the chant that would carry her to the astral plane.

"Avos, ak chen neyaga, ish bin tith. Sha mal neya, evarl es na. Terzath, ech bal vaan e nayl chen neyaga."

The heady smell of incense filled her senses, seeming to encompass her mind and expand it, lightening the weight of her brain, her head, her body, her limbs, until she felt as weightless as the smoke itself. There was a disorienting moment of duality as she felt a slight tugging in her chest, as if she were being drawn outside herself, her essence and awareness existing in two places at once—and then she was sucked out of her body as if by a mystical straw, traveling what seemed an infinite length (a second? an hour? a year?) before being deposited in the ether.

The impression of passing through the mystical tunnel remained, and her disjointed thoughts churned out random images and phrases (down the rabbit hole) trying to place it. For a moment it was difficult to think, and she nearly panicked, but then the clouds cleared and she realized she could feel her fingers and toes again, body clad in… clothes? She reached down with her newly formed fingers and touched her newborn thighs, finding them encased in skin-tight leather. Her hands pulled away quickly, as if they'd touched fire, and she drew an involuntary breath.

Giles had warned her that she might see aspects of herself she didn't expect, but she hadn't given it much thought. Usually, manifestation of self in other planes was based on self-perception, usually a combination of favored existing qualities mixed with desired qualities.

So what, exactly, was she doing here in leather pants?

(I can't explain myself, because I'm not myself, you see?)

And just what was with the annoying Alice in Wonderland theme her brain had picked for this little adventure?

She didn't have time to ponder either question as the blackness began to lift from around her. Swirling shades of gray appeared from nothing and shot through the darkness, sprouting branches, sending out smoky tendrils in every direction like veins through marble. Their overlapping branches seemed to expand and become three-dimensional, bleeding into each other in loops and whorls, the swirling motions of the smoke never stilling for an instant. The light it was dim, but telling, showing nothing but blankness stretching out eternally in any direction. It was as if Willow stood on air in the middle of starless, whirling sky. Her stomach lurched in a moment of unexpected vertigo, and then she steadied herself, forcing herself to concentrate on why she was here.

Suddenly, the wind picked up, lifting her hair from her head, and she squinted, trying to see in the dead light provided by the churning maelstrom of gray all around her.

Something was coming…

*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

Willow's head turned on the pillow, and her lips moved as if she were speaking though no words came from her mouth. It was distracting and vaguely creepy, like a horror movie with the sound turned down.

Faith watched Willow's movements, intent, examining the witch as best she could from this distance, searching for signs of distress. A moment later, Willow quieted, her head coming to rest, and Faith felt the tension in her chest ease a little.

"She's in," Giles informed them, not sounding particularly happy about it.

"Good," Anya spoke up, voice brisk and business-like. Her fingers turned and twisted at a small length of cord that had held together a clutch of incense only a few minutes before, and her eyes were too bright and wide as she watched on. "That means her head's not going to explode all over the floor, right?"

"She should be fine, Anya," Giles reassured, looking at the ex-demon with gentle surprise, as if he were touched by her concern.

"We just had these carpets cleaned," she replied, still sounding edgy. "It's going to be hard enough to get the sand out of them."

"So good of you to be concerned." Giles cut her a sour look, then turned his attention back to Willow.

"Those carpets were expensive," she said, indignant. "I had them imported from—"

"Anya," Faith interrupted, not turning to look at the woman.

"What?" A harsh, heavy sigh of impatience from the ex-demon.

"Cram it."

"Fine," Anya snapped, defensive. "I'm just… nervous." For a moment her face was open and vulnerable, and then she turned and irritated look on the Slayer. "What happened to you, anyway? You're all authoritative and annoying."

"Yeah," Xander chimed in. "You were only gone two days. Did you raid the self-help section at the Psycho Slayer's R Us bookstore or what?"

Faith considered that for a moment, eyes thoughtful and distant. "I had a… weird experience."

"Did it involve peach schnapps and a ouija board? 'Cause if it did, I had that one too. Only I… uh… wasn't naked," he added, suddenly defensive and guilty.

"Nope. Just drugs."

Resounding silence.

"It was more like an epiphany. Really."

*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

The chaos of light around her began to grow more brightly, and Willow's eyes widened as she saw the thing coming toward her.

She couldn't see more than its face, couldn't make out what kind of body trailed behind, but if the size of its head were any indication… It was enormous, even more enormous than the Mayor had been when he'd turned into a giant snake. Its face was a mass of scaly plates that surrounded its bulbous, somehow cat-like face, peeling apart only to reveal jaundiced yellow eyes and teeth… so many teeth that it seemed its mouth shouldn't be able to hold them all, that they would cut its lips to ribbons if it tried to speak, each one of them looking silver and sharp as a needle.

Great, it's the Cheshire Cat. Willow took a deep breath and backed away, terrified.

And just as she was about to break and run and follow the silver cord back to where Giles and safety and sanity lay, the thing changed shape, its bulk suddenly shrinking, scales crunching as they were twisted into new shapes. A moment later, a vaguely humanoid creature with skin like an alligator stood before her, its head just a little taller than hers.

"Sorry," the thing said in a voice that was eternally caught somewhere between a hiss and a purr and sounding as if it weren't the least bit sorry at all. "Didn't mean to scare you. It's a thing I do to impress the locals. You know how it is." The thing dropped her a sly wink and a grin that made its cat-like face look even more predatory, and Willow had to bite back an exclamation.

(Please would you tell me, why your cat grins like that?)

And could you please make it stop? she pleaded with the fictional characters reciting dialogue in her mind.

(It's a Cheshire Cat, and that's why!)

Just being near it made her skin crawl. She felt dirty, as if its very presence were fouling her mind and body. And she got the distinct impression that this thing was only toying with her, like a cat with a mouse caught in its paws.

Yeah, that's me: little mousy Willow, she thought with a stirring of rancor, and her burgeoning anger helped her find her tongue at last.

"Th-the Sun God Shamash sent you?" she asked, managing not to stammer too badly.

The thing examined its very substantial talons with an air of boredom before flicking one out at her. "You called, I came. Don't you like what you see?" A malformed smile twisted its features, and its jaundiced eyes seemed to leer at her knowingly.

"Oh, n-no!" she replied, more defensive than was probably necessary. Flustered, her eyes fluttered everywhere around the creature as she spoke. "I—just, this is all different than I thought it would be."

"It always is," the creature said with mock sympathy.

"I—I'm l-looking for someone," she tried changing the subject.

"I know why you're here," the creature replied, still sly and predatory, its razor sharp teeth bared in a grin too large for its face, suggesting that it knew things she did not.

For a moment, she felt like Alice. She'd tumbled down the rabbit hole to a strange, insane world where nothing made sense to her, but everyone else understood what was going on. Why couldn't she have gotten some kindly, noble guide to politely point out the place on the map where she could find Blackwell?

"Maybe the same reason you're wearing that," the creature said, gesturing at her body.

Fear exploded again somewhere in the back of her brain and adrenaline flooded her limbs as she realized the creature could read her mind. She'd forgotten that she was here in her astral form. This all felt suddenly, terribly real. Giles had been right. This was dangerous. One wrong step, one wrong thought or reaction, and her astral body would end up scattered from one side of this plane to the other. And her corporeal body would die soon after. All of these thoughts passed through her mind in the instant before the creature's words penetrated her brain with meaning.

With a slow, fearful glance, she looked down at herself. In the presence of this thing, she'd forgotten the leather she'd felt earlier. It clung to her like second skin—in fact, she wasn't entirely positive that it wasn't her skin, in this place. It fit every nuance and contour of her slim body, hugging every curve with dangerous, luscious ease.

(I'll stay down here till I'm somebody else)

"This isn't me," she murmured. "I'm not—" She shook her head, confused, then steadied, forcing herself to look up at the creature. Remember; don't let it see how scared you are. "They're just clothes."

The thing laughed, a gurgling, warbling sound that made her think of dying cats and polluted rivers. "And the clothes don't make the man, do they, little witch? Look again."

Unable to help herself, she looked down again. Okay, yeah, skin tight leather right down to the boots and wrists, but—

Her breath froze in her chest. The leather ended at the line where her watch would normally be, and beyond it… Beyond it her skin was the deathly pale of a corpse left too long in water, sapped of all color and life. Dark purple veins crisscrossed the moon-colored skin, raised high and pulsing with some insidious life force that lived and breathed just beneath the thin exterior. Long black fingernails extended like claws from each bony finger, gray light reflecting dully in their opaque surface. She hitched in a breath to cry out—and just as abruptly as it had appeared, the image vanished, leaving her hand pale, but still pink, alive and (ohthankhecate!) blessedly normal.

For the first time, her fear began to blossom into something darker. Nothing about this was going the way it was supposed to. She wasn't supposed to look like this. She was supposed to have the upper hand. Be in control. This thing was playing with her.

"Why do I look like this?" she demanded, the stutter all but gone from her voice. "You did this, didn't you?" She leveled the creature with an accusing glare.

"There are none so blind as those who will not see." The thing grinned again, baring its razor-like teeth. "Did you think you'd remain blind when you called upon the God of illumination? You came here seeking answers, little witch. Looks like you found them." It looked at her, as if appraising. "They don't taste very good, do they?" it asked in a parody of being solicitous.

"What are you talking about?" she asked heatedly. "Make sense! Make this stop or I'll—"

(we're all mad here)

"Or you'll what?" the creature asked, sly and knowing once again, and then it shrugged continuing mildly. "This place can only show you what already exists. There's nothing here that doesn't come from you."

She felt as if she'd been hit in the chest with a sledgehammer. "What?"

(we're all mad here)

"For so powerful a witch, you understand so very little," the creature sighed, exasperated. "You must be severely repressed for your sense of self to show through so clearly yet be a surprise to you. I suggest some serious therapy when you return home." It paused, reflecting. "Oh wait. You won't be going home," it said as if the thought had just occurred to it.

Anger forgotten, Willow took another step backward from the creature. "W-wait a minute. You said I created all this right? So that means I control you!" She affected a commanding posture, trying not to stumble over her words as she rushed on. "Stand down, demon, or I will rend you limb from limb!" Her tremulous voice echoed in her ears, trying for intimidating and only sounding nervous.

"Close, but no cigar," it said with a bubbling chuckle. "Only your perception of me is created by your mind. I am quite real, I assure you." It reached for her with ragged, black talons, teeth gleaming.

"Consisto!" she cried without thought, holding her hands up before her body.

The creature didn't pause, its claws passing through her shoulders like knives through butter, grabbing her in a spasm of paralyzing pain.

It laughed as it leered at her, breath a hideous barrage of dead smells.

"Off with your head."

*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

"Giles! What is it? What's happening?" Faith asked, frantic as Willow's prone body began to convulse on the floor.

"I don't know," Giles snapped, terse as he lifted Willow's shoulders from the floor. He pulled his hands away almost instantly and stared in horror at the blood covering his fingers. It seeped through her white peasant blouse in vibrant crimson circles that were rapidly merging into a bloodstain of frightening size.

"Figure it out!" Xander ordered, voice harsh and panicked.

"I knew we should have used the chicken," Anya fretted, twining the cord tight around her fingers.

Giles stared at the blood flowers for an eternal second as they blossomed, then his lips thinned and the frantic note in his voice was overshadowed by determination. "I'm going to try to pull her back out!"

The Scoobies advanced as one, too pale, eyes wide and hands wringing, more nervous and afraid than Faith had ever seen them. She suspected that if she'd had a mirror, her face would have looked much the same.

Giles began to chant with urgency.

"Avos, ak chen neyaga, ish bin tith…"

*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

Willow felt the creature's talons skewer muscle and tendon, her body sagging within its grasp as her knees went weak and refused to support her. Pain like acid ran through her veins, radiating from the exquisite agony in her shoulder muscles, primitive signals screaming at her brain to shake loose, get free, escape!

Weak. So weak. She should have known better than to come here. Hadn't Giles told her not to? She'd thought she was powerful enough, but he'd looked at her with those deep, wise eyes of his and told her that he knew better, and know she knew he'd been right. She wondered what her body was doing right now. Bleeding all over the store? Was Giles worried? Afraid for her? Furious because he'd been right?

And as if in answer to her thought, Giles appeared in the swirling void of the plane.

"Poor, weak, sniveling Willow," he commented, shaking his head as he took in the extent of her situation. "I told you that you couldn't do this."

"Doesn't have enough sense to come in out of the rain, does she?" Buffy asked, appearing at Giles' side."

"No, but we like to keep her around for laughs," Xander answered, smile cold and vicious as he stepped up beside Buffy.

Willow could faintly see the gray swirls of light shining through their bodies, and knew that this perception only existed in her own fevered, dying mind.

It didn't hurt any less.

The creature's jaws came closer, rancid breath permeating her nostrils.

"Idiot. She's going to let it kill her!"

"It's like justice," Buffy said.

"Sweet justice," Xander agreed.

"I always thought she was exceptionally stupid," Giles admitted.

"Don't forget pathetic." Buffy.

"Do you know how hard it was finding a best friend that was even more of a loser than me?" Xander.

Their voices overlapped and merged, rising in a violent crescendo that deafened her. "Ihadtopretendtolikeherwhydidshedresslikethatlikeasifbeinggaycouldmakeheranyweirderdidyouseewhatshedidshereallythinkshecouldbringmebackfromthedeadsuchaloserbigstupiddoeeyesthinkssheissosmartafraidofherownshadowhateherstupidinsipidweirdofreaknerdghastlyuglyinsecure…"

A scream of fury rose from Willows chest, tearing from her lips in a stream of molten lava and shards of glass. The sound caught the creature in its grip and pulled it away from her, talons coming free of her flesh with thick, popping sounds, scaly form rising up into the ether. Bones crunched and shattered inside the creature's body as it was flung away from her, and screeching hisses escaped its toothy maw at ear-shattering volume.

Why did everyone always underestimate her?

Willow stood straight and cocked her head, first to one side, then the other, loosening her neck muscles. She rolled her shoulders, glancing at them as if to assess the damage, and smiled, looking gamely up at the creature suspended above her.

The hair that blew around her face was black as night.

*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

As suddenly as they'd begun, Willow's convulsions ceased.

Giles stopped the chant and looked around, surprised.

"It worked!" Xander exclaimed, sounding relieved, and the rest of the Scoobies relaxed with an almost audible drooping of limbs.

Faith frowned and watched Giles' expression, intent.

"I didn't do it," he said with a shake of his head. "For a moment, I thought I'd found her… but when I tried to get closer I-I was shoved backward, as if by an invisible barrier."

"Oh," Xander said, pondering that for a moment. "Well something worked."

Giles hesitated, then slid the material of Willow's peasant blouse off her shoulders.

The pale expanse of her skin was whole, unbroken and unblemished, save the smears of red her blouse hadn't been able to absorb.

"Yes," Giles agreed absently. "Something certainly did."

*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

"There now. Good little demon," Willow said, indulgent as she stepped forward and patted the writhing creature on its head. She felt in good spirits now that its claws were out of her. So good, in fact, that she almost felt high. "We're going to have a nice little tea party and you're going to tell me everything you know, aren't you?" she cooed.

The creature gave a weak, brittle laugh that dissolved in a harsh fit of coughing. "Kill… you," it wheezed.

"Wrong answer," she replied, calm as she crooked her finger at the demon and pulled inward.

The demon roared and twisted, the scales covering its belly bulging outward as if its intestines were eager to accept the invitation she'd just made.

"How… are you… doing that?" it croaked, voice feeble.

"Magic," she replied in a sly, singsong voice.

"This is my world," it protested, almost whining.

"There, there now," she soothed, running fingertips over the rough scale of its face. "Shh. It'll all be over soon. Just tell me what I need to know."

The creature choked out another laugh. "If you… can do this to me… you don't need my help."

"Is that a no?" she asked, sounding almost hopeful.

"No!" the demon cried quickly, plaintive. "I mean… you can find the answer… to what you seek… without me."

Willow considered a moment, tilting her head to the side. Her eyes were two empty black holes, devouring the demon like a vortex.

Then she brightened, smiling.

"You're right. I don't need you anymore."

She clenched her hand into a fist and the demon shrieked in pain.

It became unspeakable.

*           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *           *

Willow sat up with the force of a bullet, gasping for air, eyes wide and terrified as her fingers crushed the lush carpet in a death grip.

"I can't! I can't stop! The… the…" she screamed, incoherent, unaware of the words leaving her mouth.

"Willow!" Giles cried, putting his hands on her bloody shoulders. "Willow," he said more firmly, voice cajoling, trying to bring her back. "It's all right. You're back. You're here. With us."

She stared at him, eyes still too wide and horrified, not recognizing the person she saw.

"Willow!" He shook her once, hard, and her head snapped back so hard she thought she might have broken her neck.

"Giles?" she asked, voice weak, eyes uncertain as she brought her head back down and looked around. "Oh, God! Giles!"

She threw her arms around his neck and pulled him to her, eyes clenched shut against the horrible visions she still saw, face pressed against the comfort of his chest. After a moment, his arms came up, tentative as they held her.

"There. It's all right, Willow," he said and patted her shoulder, awkward but reassuring.

She opened her eyes, not quite willing to look at him yet, but beginning to believe him.

In the forefront of her vision, she saw the crystal that still hung around his neck, the tiny piece of her essence that had allowed her to return.

It had turned dark and black as sin itself.