Chapter Two

Cries of agony echoed all around her but she was trapped in a world of darkness. Nothingness was all that existed: a blackhole of empty thoughts and feelings. Devoid of all things living and haunted by the souls of the damned it was a realm of never ending death and pain. Paralyzed atop her legs and unable to free herself from some unseen hold Willow was forced to listen to the pleading cries and cursing screams of billowy faces. Ghostly hands clawed at her, dragging razor nails across her flesh. Aching and bleeding her legs swelled and collapsed. She was falling.

          Down and down she fell into the void, grasping at the blackness for any hold she could find. There was nothing. Terror was quick to latch itself onto her soul and tears of madness began to slowly stick to her cheeks. Willow was wrapped in emptiness and still farther did she tumble into insanity.

          The pleading cries of death faded and took with them their world of darkness. Whispers of deranged children flooded Willow's mind and brought with them a world of absurdity. Pounding in her head was the sound of dying heart beats and laughter of the senseless. Torturous and relentless shadowy figures coiled Willow in frigid horror that stung her wounds and tore at her lingering sanity. Delusion was creeping up Willow's spine.

          Light: blinding, dry rays of mist shimmering across a land of bleak existence. A vast expanse of grey. Stepping further into the light Willow recognized her home. Sunnydale. Blanketed in a cloud of dismal, emotionless presence Sunnydale spiraled around life lived unattached. Not knowing what to believe Willow emerged from the misted light and was all at once ensnared in the world of grey.

          Madness. Delusion. Detachment.

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          Rolling onto her back Willow starred at the ceiling and tried to remember the dream she had just awoken from. A dream that left an eerie feeling in her gut. Eventually giving up Willow sighed and flipped the light switch beside her bed. Harsh, iridescent lighting flood her room and she winced slightly, forcing her eyes to adjust. Outside her window Willow glimpsed the stars still hanging in the night sky then turned to see the time. 2:04 am.

          Knowing she'd never get back to sleep Willow pushed herself out of bed and sat down at her computer. After answering a couple of emails and having nothing else to do Willow typed the words 'dream demons' into the search engines. Curiosity, Willow told herself. It was just curiosity and nothing more. She refused to believe that she herself might be the victim of one such dream demon.

          When her eyes started to droop and ache from the bright screen Willow logged off and crawled back into bed. Sleep came quickly and her dreams were pleasant.

          "You look like hell, pet."

          Willow tried to glare at Spike but yawned instead. "You should talk."

          "And grouchy, too," Spike mumbled.

          "Sorry, Spike," Willow said while pouring a cup of coffee. "I didn't get much sleep last night."

          "Another dream?" Tara asked, lowering the newspaper she was reading. Willow nodded. "That's, what, twelve nights in two weeks?"

          Willow shrugged. "There only dreams. I guess I'm just a light sleeper."

          "You never were before," Spike said.

          "People change," Willow argued.

          "In two weeks?" Tara asked.

          "It's no big deal," Willow's voice was final. "You told me yourself Spike: their just dreams."

          "But pet – "

          "Just drop it, okay?" Willow pleaded.

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          Classes were pointless that day. Willow slept through everyone of them and missed a pop quiz. She couldn't explain it but lately Willow had been excessively tired and nodded off simply by leaning against a wall. It was the nightmares, she reasoned with herself. They kept her awake at night so it was logical that she was sleepy during the day. Though that's what she told herself and her friends Willow herself was skeptical. It's one thing to be tired but another to immediately fall asleep every time you close your eyes.

          Willow was starting to get scared.

          What's worse, she told her friends, she couldn't, for the life of her, remembering anything about the dreams that woke her almost every night. As hard as she tried not a single inkling the dreams remained in her head. After a while it became increasingly frustrating and Willow grew quick to annoy. When she was able to stay awake long enough to hold any form of conversation the level-headed redhead snapped at every comment spoken others and argued incessantly – even when she had no idea what the other person was talking about. Common as it was to be a bit snippy in the morning to be short-nerved all day long every day was worrisome, even among the Scooby gang.

          "I'm worried about her," Buffy said one afternoon. She, Giles, Spike and Xander were sitting around Giles' living room waiting for the others to arrive for the gang's weekly Scooby Meeting.

          Conversation had quickly turned to Willow's situation.

          "We all are," Xander said. "I mean, it's so unlike Willow."

          "I'm as baffled as you are," Giles put in, cleaning his glasses with the hem of his sweater.

          The four were silent for a moment before Buffy asked, "Could this be an attack?"

          Xander and Spike shrugged while Giles frowned. "I considered it myself," Giles admitted. "But in all the research I did, I came across no references to a demon capable of creating the symptoms Willow is suffering."

          "Then what is it?" Buffy's voice was pleading and her friends understood her grief but none of them had the answer – or even knew where to begin.