Disclaimer: see chapter 1

3: ORPHEUS
An ugly bluish demon had just landed in front of Angel's antique weapon collection after flying through his window. Buffy looked at Angel. "Is this one of your clients?" she asked sarcastically.

"No," Angel replied.

"Can I kill him?" Buffy asked.

Angel looked sadly at the shattered glass. "He broke my window!"

Buffy pulled a sword out of her bag, and chased the demon into the lobby. Angel winced as he followed. "You have no idea how much that thing's gonna cost to fix..."

The Slayer and the demon circled each other, and Buffy swung the sword a few times, only to have her opponent dodge it.

"Couldn't you have broken something else? The door, maybe? It's an ugly door anyway..."

Buffy feigned a fall, rolled, and jumped off to slice off one of the demon's arms. She swung around, burying the sword deep into the abdomen of the demon...As its remaining hand grasped at her neck.

The Slayer gasped when one of the demon's claws sank into her jugular vein. Fiercely tearing the arm away from her, Buffy kicked the arm's owner into Angel's desk, where it received a brutal neck-snapping. She panted, satisfied, but breath sounded a bit breathy and pained. "That was fun, wasn't it?"

Lorne, who had been hiding behind Harmony's desk (as had Harmony), began applauding the Slayer.

Buffy's grinning lasted for a few seconds before she collapsed backwards and hit the floor.

Spike had become bored with kicking the door to the bathroom stall, and he'd sprained his toe doing just that, and a new pass-time was definitely in line. "Bloody hell," he told no one in particular. "Might as well just barge in on the bastard and his little Miss Italy. Nothing's stopping me." Spike sauntered out of the men's room, feeling a lot less confident than he looked. On his way to Angel's office, he ran into the #1 Boss himself, hurrying in the opposite direction.

"Little Goldilocks too much for you?" he asked bitterly.

Angel seemed too preoccupied for banter. "Spike...You'd better come with me."

Spike looked at the Slayer's blonde hair, splayed across the hospital bed pillow. Buffy. Stiller than death.

Angel and Lorne were talking seriously. "Wesley thinks it's an Arvak demon," said Angel.

Lorne frowned. "Sure?"

"He's sure, Lorne."

Lorne looked at Buffy sadly, lamenting the lost cause. "What a pity. It's really too bad."

Both Angel and Spike stared at Lorne, waiting for more.

"The venom of an Arvak is used in the mystical drug Morpheus. You remember that, Angelcakes. It drags you to Hell..." he looked over at the comatose Slayer, "And leaves you there."

Spike pushed Lorne's shoulders, shoving him into the wall. "Hell? Buffy's in HELL!?"

"Easy, Orpheus." Lorne sighed as Spike reluctantly let him go. "The Slayer's in her own personal Hell. Her worst nightmares, her worst memories...She's trapped inside her own mind."

Angel paced. "But she'll come back. Faith came back."

Lorne replied apologetically. "Faith only came back with your help, Angelcakes."

"Help?" Spike snapped up the idea. "She could make it out with help?" His mind was whirring. "Last time Buffy got stuck in her head, Red got her out of it." Spike fumbled in his duster for the cell phone he'd claimed as his. "We call her, she flies over on one of your high-speed jets, she brings Buffy back."

Angel would have loved to reject any plan developed by Spike, but the situation was too dire. "You know..." he said with the grimace of reluctance as he grabbed Spike's phone, "That might just work."

"Sorry, but she's...You know, projecting again? Astral projection? She can call you back..."

"It's alright," Angel's voice assured a worried Kennedy. "Just have her do that."

"It's ALRIGHT?" Kennedy heard Spike shout furiously. "Are you an absolute NUMBSKULL! It's not bloody alright!"

Kennedy winced. She could nearly see the blonde vampire screaming into Angel's ear. Even though she'd never actually met Angel, she imagined him rather like a less punk Spike. "I'll...Try to get her back as soon as possible. Send your jet, or whatever, and Willow will be on it." Angel thanked her and hung up.

Kennedy walked quietly to where Willow's body was sitting. "Will," she whispered in her girlfriend's ear. "Will, your friends need you. Buffy's in trouble." The Slayer gently kissed Willow's forehead.

Willow felt herself falling backwards, the world slipping away from her as physical reality rushed up to meet her. "Kennedy?" she murmured.

The Slayer smiled. "I'm here, Will."

Willow blinked and looked at Kennedy. "So what is it?"

Kennedy swallowed. "It's Buffy. She's in a coma...And Angel thinks she won't come out without you taking a brain tour or something."

Willow's face showed worry. "Well, at least it's something I'm good at," she attempted to say brightly. "I'm supposed to go to Rome?"

"LA," corrected Kennedy. "She's with Angel in LA. Wolfram and Hart is sending a private jet."

"Oh. I thought she was mad at him," Willow muttered. "I'll probably be gone for a few days, and Saturday's obviously off. Is that okay with you?" Willow tucked a piece of Kennedy's hair behind her ear.

Kennedy laughed. "I'm coming with you. You think I could sit still while a fellow Slayer is in trouble?" Willow smiled thankfully at Kennedy; the witch didn't really want to brave Evil, Inc. by herself. "Besides, God knows how many sexy women you might meet in a city like that?"

Spike fell backwards into the chair beside Buffy's hospital bed. Helooked at her troubled face, knowing she was trapped in a personalized Buffy hell. He hadn't left her side since he'd arrived, and he'd spent 9 hours wiping sweat and tears from her face. He'd held her hand when Angel hadn't been.

"Will you stop that bloody pacing?" Spike irritably demanded of Angel.

Angel shouted back at Spike, just as irritably. "I'm trying to think, Spike. I want to be doing something useful!"

Spike's face instantly closed off. "Might want to pick another pass-time then, mate," he commented insolently. "Pacing's hardly..." But he knew Angel was right – Buffy neither knew nor cared how much devotion Spike was showing her, he was positive of that. Holding her hand won't bloody save her life, he thought.

Spike suddenly stood up. He picked Buffy's jacked up off the bedside table and started for the door.

"Where are you going?" Angel asked scornfully. "And with her jacket?"

"I'm going to do something useful," Spike replied, and closed the door behind him.

"Heh, heh, heh," laughed the vampire over his pint of platelets. Spike looked at the rings on his informant's fingers, which were the sort that made it likely that this particular monster was in the vampire mafia. "You won't be getting that information until I see a little payment."

A frustrated Spike slammed a wooden stake on the bar table between them. "Can't see how a fellow would need payment if he belongs in an ashtray," growled a vamped-out Spike. "Now talk."

Reluctantly, the smirking vampire release his information. "There is but one antidote to the Arvak demon's venom." He then looked at Spike, displaying impertinent curiosity. "How much are you prepared to do for this girl?"

Spike replied without needing to think. "Anything."

The corner of the informant's mouth curled into a smile. "The only cure...Is to rid the victim's system of the poisoned blood."

The blonde scoffed. "That's it? The medical staff can transfer blood in a –"

Don Vampione's evil laugh was slightly unnerving, but Spike didn't have time to be suspicious. He left the table and headed for the door.

"Wait, Hero-boy."

Spike turned impatiently, his duster swishing around

"Now how did this girl of yours get poisoned by an Arvak in the first place?"

Spike wondered how the answer would be of such importance. "She...killed it," he replied dubiously.

"Slayer?" the other vampire asked, smiling.

"Yeah," the blonde replied wistfully.

The informant chuckled. "Then no measly medical staff can cure her." It took all of Spike's mental discipline to refrain from dusting the vamp right there. But the other demon continued: "Magic runs through her veins. Magical blood must replace the poison."

There was a silence as Spike pointedly directed a what-the-bloody-hell stare at the informant, who eventually decided to elaborate. "You drain her, you fill her back up."

Spike was appalled. "I'M NOT TURNING BUFFY!" he announced loudly and angrily.

"You won't turn her. The poison will negate it." He smiled greasily. "Just treat yourself to Slayer's blood."

Spike made a disgusted face, but what really appalled him was how much he wasn't disgusted by the concept. Without a word, he left the bar. It was clear what needed to be done, and he'd do it. The only thing that made him uncomfortable was the informant's sly smirk as Spike had left the room.

BTW, thanks to all of you guys who have reviewed. I got some great reviews (nice and happy and good for the soul) and some really helpful ones. For those of you who are wondering when this thing gets M, I'm pretty sure it's gonna be in the next chapter.