Chapter 4

The Undead's Guide to Cemeteries. It would be sort of like a Zagat's guide, except it would be about about cemeteries. You could rate crypts for spaciousness, he supposed, and whether you were near electric so you could hook up a TV. It was a good idea, Xander decided. And there was definitely a market. Besides, a lot of Barnes and Noble bookstores were open til midnight, so his target audience could ---

"Xander."

"Gyaaaa!" Xander whirled, nearly dropping the stake he'd been holding. Okay. Maybe it served him right for daydreaming at midnight in an unfamiliar cemetery. Sheepishly, he grinned at Batman as he tucked the stake into his pocket. "Geez, sneak up on a guy…"

The masked man's lips curled. "I called your name. Twice."

Oops. "I was, uh, focusing –"

"Undead's Guide to Cemeteries?"

"And apparently brainstorming out loud," Xander admitted. "There's an audience for it and with bookstores open late –"

"I get it," Batman cut him off, his tone implying that he'd rather not. "Where's Buffy?"

A twig snapped somewhere behind him and Xander glanced quickly over his shoulder just in time to see what had to be Ratzilla taking a leisurely stroll through the dark, overcrowded and overgrown cemetery. Stifling a shudder of disgust, he turned his attention back to Batman – who he wasn't entirely sure he liked – and said, "There's been a complication."

Batman said nothing, just drew a breath and continued to focus his stare on Xander.

"Dawn's missing." Xander guessed he was supposed to be intimidated by the staring and the overall broodiness. Yeah. Right. Repressing the urge to roll his eyes – eye, he reminded himself, there's only one – he continued. "We'd like to think it has something to do with Al Ghul, but Will made with the magicks and couldn't find anything out of the ordinary. And something's blocking her locator spells. So right now, the Buffster is tearing apart all the demon hangouts in Gotham looking for an answer."

There was a long pause as the Dark Knight studied Xander. "You think it's something else."

Xander narrowed his eye at the other man. He was pretty sure the patch ruined the effect. "You tell me. This is your town. You've got over 50 escapees from a mental institution running around, including the guy that used to run the place. Some other guy is robbing banks and killing people and leaving playing cards. Plus your usual assortment of lowlifes. So, you tell me what's more likely. Demons and vamps stupid enough to go after the Slayer's sister or some ordinary dirtbag who has no idea what he's getting himself into?"

There was another long moment of silence. "This may be my town, but I don't know enough about the demons and the…"

"Vamps," Xander supplied, even as he realized that Kevlar-boy's admitting that he was out of his element in Buffy's world probably wasn't an easy thing to do. It would be like Buffy admitting she was having a hard time finding the vamp nests in Gotham.

"Vamps," Batman repeated. "I know where the human garbage congregates –"

"The vamps and demons are in pretty much the same places," Xander interrupted. Buffy asked him to do this, but Xander felt like really should be looking for Dawn. "If they're not feeding off blood from people who won't be missed, they're feeding of the fear and despair and playing kitten poker for kicks."

Another pause and then Batman said the one thing that Xander had been waiting for that proved that there was definitely something going on or about to go on between the man in the mask and his best friend. "Those aren't the kinds of places Buffy should be going."

Bingo, Xander thought. Just a little too much concern in that comment. "I thought you knew about Slayers –"

"I do. They can die."

"She's already died. Twice." He waited a beat and let it sink in, his attention being caught by the return of Ratzilla and, apparently, Ratzilla's girlfriend. "Well? Why are you waiting here? Go help her find Dawnie."

By the time Xander tore his gaze away from the disgusting display of mutant rat sex, he discovered Batman was already gone.

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"More mashed potatoes, honey?"

Dawn blinked, startled to find herself at her dining room table, back home in Sunnydale, and then took the bowl of mashed potatoes from her mother. It wasn't….it shouldn't have been… There was a vague sense that this wasn't real. But the smell of the mashed potatoes seemed real enough. And the bowl was hot. And it was dinnertime in Sunnydale, where nothing could hurt her, right? Exactly. Spooning the mashed potatoes onto her plate, she smiled and said, "Thanks, Mom."

"This is the best Thanksgiving ever, Mrs. Summers," Angel told her mother, as he reached across the table and took Buffy's hand. "I can really enjoy it, now that I'm allowed to have moments of perfect happiness again."

Spike rolled his eyes and nudged Dawn in the side. "You'd think he's the only one with a soul, wouldn't you, the big ponce. And at least I never had to worry about getting a happy without going all evil."

"Boys," Joyce Summers scolded. "Don't ruin Dawn's Thanksgiving. This is the first real one she's had since she stopped being a glowing ball of energy."

"Look," Buffy exclaimed. "I've got the wishbone. Come on, Dawn, make a wish."

"I already know what she'll wish for," Spike said, with a grin. "She wants to die, like the rest of us."

Dawn's fingers closed around the slender bone that Buffy held out to her, a sudden burst of panic starting to rise up. "N-no, I don't. I don't want to die."

"It's fine," Buffy assured her, with a smile. "You can come back. I did. Twice."

"I came back from Hell," Angel put in. He kissed Buffy's hand. "And I've even forgiven Buffy for sending me there."

"I came back from…well, I just came back," Spike said. "After I saved the world."

Angel snorted at this. "Anyone at this table who hasn't saved the world? Get over yourself, Captain Peroxide."

"Boys," Joyce chided. "You're ruining Dawn's special day. Here, honey, have some more cranberry sauce."

Dawn reached to take the bowl and shrieked when she looked down at her mother's hands. The flesh was rotted and crawling with maggots. She pushed away from the table and looked up at her mother's face. Big mistake. It wasn't just her mother's hands. Her mother was a decaying corpse. "Oh my god….Mom! Buffy, do something!"

"What do you want me to do, Dawnie?" Buffy asked, her flesh starting to rot before Dawn's eyes.

Dawn screamed again, staring in horror as the walls of the room began to be overrun by mold and flies. There was the unmistakable smell of things that were long dead. Even though she knew it was a mistake, she looked at her mother again. And let loose another scream.

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She was still screaming when she opened her eyes. "Mommeeeeeeeeeeeeee."

"Oh," Drusilla cooed, cupping Dawn's cheek in a cool hand, her voice seeming very distant and distorted to Dawn's ears. "That's so sweet. She wants her mummy."

"Excellent," Scarecrow said, leaning over to look at Dawn, his voice was also faraway. "We've made a good deal of progress in a very short time, Dawn."

"Mom." The word slipped past her lips in a croak and she became suddenly aware of the tears wandering down her cheeks, making damp spots on the rough white cotton pillowcase beneath her head.

"Tell me about your mother, Dawn." The soft, clinical and calm voice brought her attention back to Scarecrow. Crane's voice came out of the monster and then morphed back into the monster's voice once more. "Tell me how you even had a mother when you're not real."

"I remember her mother," Drusilla announced. "Cookies and milk after school and good little girls should be in their beds before dark. Before the nasty things come out and get you."

Stepping back, the mad vampire closed her eyes and pressed her fingertips to her temples with a low moan. "These aren't my memories," she accused, her eyes snapping open and focusing on Dawn. "How did you put your memories in my head?"

Dawn's heart was still pounding and she drew a shaky breath. Maybe it was best if she didn't answer.

"You don't belong in my head," Drusilla snarled, her face contorting and her fangs becoming visible as she rounded on Dawn.

It had to be the drugs, Dawn rationalized somewhere in the back of her mind, because she took one look at the vamped-out Drusilla and shrieked again, struggling wildly against the leather straps that held her down.

"Dawn. Be still." Crane's soft, reassuring voice drew her attention back to him. If she didn't know his other side, she would have been comforted by that voice. It was Crane, not Scarecrow, who was studying her with his vivid blue eyes, looking as harmless as the Sunnydale Junior High guidance counselor.

Dawn wondered who she was looking at. Was it the man, the madman or something else entirely. "What are you?"

A hint of a smile played on his lips as the soothing guidance counselor went away and was replaced with something soulless. "I was Crane, but now I'm Scarecrow."

"Yes, you have evolved, haven't you, Doctor?" A new voice came from somewhere behind her head and Dawn couldn't see who possessed this deep, commanding voice.

Drusilla made a small, keening sound and backed away, fangs still bared. Even Scarecrow was staring in obvious shock at the person Dawn still couldn't see but could almost sense coming towards her.

A large, gentle hand cupped her face and she found herself suddenly staring up at a man somewhere in his late forties, wearing a tasteful charcoal gray silk suit and looked at her with soft brown eyes. There was the tiniest hint of wonder in his voice as he asked, "What have we here?"

For reasons that escaped her, Dawn's heart started hammering in her chest and she shivered, even as the stranger's thumb stroked her cheek. Biting her lip, she just stared at him. And realized in her fear exactly who he was. "Ra's al Ghul."

A genuinely warm smile crossed his face. "And you are The Key."

Oh no. He was crazy, too.

As if he could read her mind, he chuckled softly. "An unfortunate side effect, I'm afraid."

"S-side effect of what?"

Al Ghul's hand slid down to her throat, but just rested there, hinting at dangers to come. "A tale for another day, dear child." Turning his attention to Scarecrow, the smile faded and his expression grew hard and commanding. "It's time to continue our work together….Scarecrow, is it?"

Dawn could feel pulsing energy and twisted in time to see the air behind Ra's Al Ghul ripple and distort. Black shapes emerged and became defined as two black-clad men, holding a girl tightly bound in chains. The girl's body was limp, head lolling to one side and her face covered under tangled dark curls. Through her own drug-induced muzzy-headedness, Dawn recognized her. "Dana."

"Slayer," growled Drusilla, raising her hands and brandishing her talon-like fingernails. "Filthy, nasty Slayer."

Dana's head snapped up and her eyes flew open, looking around wildly until she finally focused on Drusilla. "Head and heart. Keep cutting until you see dust."

Hissing, Drusilla took a step forward and raised her hand, preparing to swipe at the helpless Slayer when Al Ghul's voice froze her where she stood.

"No. You are not to touch her." Turning his attention back to Scarecrow, Al Ghul said, "This Slayer is mine. Or will be, once Scarecrow completes his work with her."

"You can't," Dawn protested. "She's psychotic! Dangerous!"

Arching an eyebrow, Scarecrow grinned down at Dawn. "Psychotic? Yes. Dangerous, hardly. I believe that's been taken care of, hasn't it?"

"Yellow makes you weak." Dana spoke up again, glaring at Scarecrow, not so far out there that she didn't recognize that she was in danger. "Brown makes you sleepy."

"And what does blue make you, Dana?" Scarecrow asked her.

Dana's face contorted with rage. "Can't hurt me. Can't hurt me anymore."

"The blue makes you scared, doesn't it?"

"Head and heart. Burn the Scarecrow."

"Burn," he echoed, glancing back at Dawn. "That's a new one. What do you think, Dawn?"

Dawn swallowed hard. She was outnumbered four to one by a psychotic vampire, a psychotic vampire slayer, a psychotic psychiatrist and a psychotic whatever Al Ghul was. What did she think? That there was big trouble coming.