Copyright E. Marney 2001

Part Three (Chapters 9-11)

"Next floor – haberdashery, linen, ladies’ underwear…"

Xander was watching the lift ping upwards, and gripping the knife in his hand.

"Who’s got the time?" Buffy looked automatically at Giles – he was bound to be wearing a watch.

"It’s just after 8am. We’ll have plenty of time before the eclipse," he reassured her.

"Yeah – if we don’t waste it all fighting hordes of scorpions on every floor."

"Somehow, I don’t think our next challenge will involve scorpions again -"

The lift came to a halt, and the doors slid open. Buffy braced herself, but there were no brick walls or bugs – just a standard office hallway. Tan walls. Dim lights. Carpet – the regular kind, not the critter-kind. There was a section of open reception area in front of the lift entrance and then the hall stretched into the distance, ending somewhere further down, shrouded in gloom. Nondescript doors dotted the walls at intervals, all closed. Xander, feeling brave, poked his head around the side of the lift.

"Ah, hello?" His voice echoed down the hall. Nothing responded. He raised his eyebrows and shrugged. "Well, it seems all clear. I guess this is where we get off." He was about to step out, when Giles grabbed him by the collar.

"Just – one moment, Xander. We should make sure that everything is as it seems." Giles narrowed his eyes at the corridor view, and reached into his back pocket, drawing out a small crumpled tube. He blinked and seemed to think of something, then held up the scrunched-up packet towards the other Scoobies, a bland expression on his face.

"Er – mint, anyone?"

They looked at him. Willow grinned. "Thanks, but I brushed before I left."

Buffy squinted in confusion. "You’re gonna placate them with breath-fresheners?"

Giles gave her a look. "Of course not. But I wanted to try something –" And he tossed the packet out into the reception area. Where it fell through the floor. The Scoobies got a brief glimpse of endless blackness as the mints fell through space.

"Whoa!" Xander took a hurried step backwards. "Okay – remind me never to do the ‘all-clear’ thing again."

"Duly noted," Tara said drily.

"So – we can’t step out. What now, do we close the lift again?" Buffy tried a button, but nothing happened.

"I guess not." Giles looked thoughtfully down the hallway. "But – let’s see if… Willow, may I borrow your flail?"

She passed it over. "I wasn’t using it anyway," she said with a shrug.

With a little wind-up, Giles threw the flail out past the reception area, into the hallway. Where it dropped to the floor safely.

Buffy raised her eyebrows. "Okay. Reception area – bad. Hallway – no problem. Now we just have to get over. I guess we jump."

"That seems to be our only option," Giles agreed. He made towards the back of the lift for a run-up. Buffy held him back.

"Hold on a sec here, Giles. I should go first – you don’t know what’s waiting on the other edge." She took a quick step back, then bolted for the hallway floor, her foot rising off the lintel of the lift on her last stride. It was any easy jump – in a blur of black leather, she rolled smoothly to stand on the other side, crossbow at the ready, but nothing nasty leapt out at her. She turned to face the other Scoobies still inside the lift.

"It’s clear. Okay, who’s next?"

Willow and Tara vaulted over the abyss, getting a push from Giles and Xander. Xander took the leap comfortably – then it was Giles’ turn. He took a few steps back until he could feel the metal wall of the lift behind him.

"C’mon Giles!" Willow was all encouragement.

He shook his head, muttering. "Bloody athletics!" before taking the run-up and springing out on his final step. He hit the floor heavily, wobbled a bit on the edge – but the others were there to grab him. He looked a little flustered, but otherwise okay.

"Yay, Mr Giles!" Tara grinned.

He let out the breath he’d been holding, and looked ruefully at the Scoobies. "Long jump was never my forte."

Buffy smiled at him. "It’s okay, we’re all here. Now, what next?"

"Where does the hallway go to?" Willow asked.

"No idea – let me see…" Buffy walked down to the dim end of the corridor, until she encountered a blank wall. "Nothing," she called back. She walked back to the group, shaking her head. " It’s a dead end."

"So, I s’pose we play ‘what’s behind door number three’," Tara said.

Willow looked warily at the array of options. "I guess the trick is working out which one is the right door."

They all looked down the hall – there were four doors on each side. Eight potential ways to Spike, or eight potential threats. Buffy sighed, and looked at Giles hopefully.

"Tell me you know which way to go now. Please."

He frowned down the corridor and shook his head. "I’m sorry, Buffy…but I don’t. It seems as if Satis has set up an obstacle course for us, and I imagine that this is part of the puzzle."

Buffy sighed again, and turned to face the first door on the left. "Okay, well, I guess we just start from the top and work our way down." She looked over at the others. "Are you ready?" They nodded. "Here goes." She turned back to the door, took a deep breath, and raised a booted foot to break it down.

"No! No, no – not that one! The other one!"

Anya was leaning over an ornate hand-mirror on the counter. Dawn, who’d been poking around at the bookshelves, hurried back to the temporary proprietor of the Magic Box, a look of excitement on her face.

"Did you get it to work? I knew it would work – so what do you see?"

Anya was making faces at the mirror. Vulcan’s Mirror was a useful tool for seeing past, present and the possible future as desired, but it could be notoriously difficult to activate. Dawn, feeling vindicated that her spell research had paid off, was now jostling for position, trying to see the images inside it.

"Yes, it works – but for what? We’re just about to watch them all get killed!" Anya lamented, with much hand-wringing.

"Say what?" Alarmed, Dawn tried to see what was going on. She peered at the reflective surface, past a light mist around the edges. She could see stuff! This magic biz was so cool… There was Buffy, with Xander, Willow, Tara and Giles. They were standing in front of a door in a boring-looking hallway – it looked like Buffy was getting ready to bust the door down. Dawn hoped fervently that Spike was behind it; then they could rescue him and come home. On the other hand, she thought, looking down at Buffy’s red sarong skirt that she was wearing, maybe they could come back a little later in the afternoon…

"What do you mean, ‘they’re gonna get killed’? It’s just a door in an office building."

Anya shook her head, looking distraught. "No, no – it’s the wrong door. Every door has a challenge behind it, and trust me, this one is sure to be bad." She looked to the heavens, wailing. "Oh, why couldn’t they have taken me with them? At least I’d know what I was doing, instead of fumbling around aimlessly from one challenge to the next. At this rate, the eclipse will be over and they’ll still be fighting off demons into next week."

"Wait – how do you know about this?"

Anya brushed off Dawn’s query with a flick of her hand. "Oh, I used to run the Samian Maze, for some of the nastier suitors I came across – these labyrinth things all operate on the same principle, anyway. And everyone knows you never open the first door!"

Dawn took in Anya’s worried, disgruntled face. "So what should they do? And can we get a message to them about it?"

"I don’t know." Anya screwed up her nose. "Maybe." She looked at Dawn thoughtfully. "Well, I guess we can try – but I’ll need your help."

Dawn smiled eagerly. "Great. What do you want me to do?"

"I’ll need some candles, and some of that red thread behind the counter, and some herbs. Oh, and some of your hair."

Dawn, moving to collect the items, pulled up short.

"Come again?"

The door flung wide under the heel of her boot, but no sooner had Buffy opened it than she wished it closed again. A soof of air went past her cheek, then another. She heard the thunk of projectiles embedding themselves in wood behind her.

"Everyone duck!" she called out, as she hit the deck. The other Scoobies fell obligingly to the floor, watching the tiny arrows flying above their heads, flinging into the wall that had been at their backs.

"Enough with the arrows already!" Willow yelled into the dark behind door number one. The hail of arrows increased – not exactly the response she’d been after.

"Just stay low! I’m gonna…" Buffy, first in front of the door, scrambled forward on her stomach and reached out with her crossbow, trying to hook the edge of the door with the weapon. She felt her hair lift, as an arrow went by. Then she felt a stinging pain sear her right arm.

"Ow!"

"Buffy!" Xander rose on his elbows, but Buffy glared back at him.

"I said, stay low!. I’m fine – just gotta get this damn door-" Her straining paid off – the curved side of the bow caught the door, and she began pulling the thing closed. As she manoueverd the door closed, the unmistakable thudding of arrows pounding themselves into the wood sounded clearly. But when the door slid back into it’s lock with a click, the sounds abruptly died.

The Scoobies exchanged glances. The door stayed shut. Giles rose to his feet shakily, and the others began to follow suit.

"Well – not the door I would have chosen, perhaps, if I’d known…"

"Now he tells me." Buffy rolled her eyes, then rubbed a hand down her forearm.

"Are you alright?"

"I’m fine, it’s a scratch." The cut was superficial, and was already starting to heal.

"Well, I guess we know what’s behind door number one, " Tara said. She had pulled an arrow out of the wall behind her, and was examining the short brown shaft with a look of distaste.

"Not the ideal way to find out, but yeah," Xander conceded.

Willow perused the other doors down the silent hallway. She threw up her hands in exasperation. "Great. We have to do this little experiment every time we open a door? But there’s seven more doors!"

Buffy clenched her jaw, frustration and anger shadowing her face. "This is going to take forever! Not to mention, being way too dangerous. Giles, isn’t there a better way to do this? There must be something we’re missing…"

Giles had taken off his glasses, and was scratching his forehead, searching the corridor for clues that were not forthcoming. "Yes, I’m sure there is. I just wish I knew what it was."

***

Dawn was struggling with a number of large jars of herbs when she turned to look at Anya.

"Okay – we have about half an hour before we have to open the shop for business. Is that gonna be enough time?"

"Certainly. Now, just light the candles like I told you. Here’s the charcoal for the censer."

Anya was presiding over a small patch of floor in the Magic Box, where Dawn had set up a spell circle. She’d used four candles, and salt, and she was fervently hoping that she’d done it all the right way. Willow had impressed upon her the need for spells to be done in a certain order, but Anya didn’t seem to be all that worried about the conventions. The ex-demon had bundled up a few things she wanted and unceremoniously plonked herself down on the floor. At the moment, she was busy with a tangle of red wool, and a pair of scissors.

"That’s fine, now come and sit here with me."

"You want me to help with the spell?" Dawn thought about Buffy’s injunction not to fool around with special magicks. She figured that this probably qualified.

"Kind of. I need you to act as the conduit. We’ll be speaking to them - or rather to Buffy, ‘cos the link is strongest between you two - through you." Anya took in Dawn’s wary expression. "Don’t worry, silly – it’s not going to hurt."

Dawn frowned. "Am I gonna get into trouble for this?"

Anya smiled at her confidently. "Absolutely not. In fact, probably the opposite. Buffy’ll give you a big medal for saving the day." She didn’t sound totally convincing.

But Dawn rarely needed convincing to do things she wasn’t supposed to. With a shrug, she stepped into the circle and sat down opposite Anya. In the crosslegged and comfortable slump typical of all teenagers, she watched silently as Anya tried to unravel a length of wool from the muddled skein in her lap.

"Need a hand?"

"No, thank you, " Anya said a little waspishly, in spite of looking like she was doing a fair job of tying herself up into knots. Then the ex-demon sighed and gave up, thrusting the skein at Dawn. "Okay, fine. I need a piece about a foot long. And I need this too." And with a quick movement, she reached over and snipped off a lock of Dawn’s hair with the scissors.

"Hey!!"

"I said I needed it for the spell."

"Well, yeah, but I was gonna cut it off myself. Great, now I’m lopsided in the front."

Anya just looked at her like a mother at a fussing toddler. "Dawn, it’ll grow back. Now shush. I’m trying to remember what the words are… How does it go again? Open the ears of the one… Or is it , Let him who has ears to hear..?"

Dawn looked at Anya with a frown. She had a rising suspicion that Anya had only a limited knowledge of what she was doing, and if there was one thing that Dawn did know about magic, it was that it was always good to be pretty specific. Things could go awry too easily… Then she remembered what Anya had said about Buffy in the maze – ‘the eclipse will be over and they’ll still be fighting demons into next week.’ Thay had to do something – if Buffy couldn’t get through the maze in time, then Spike was gonna be dust. The whole idea gave her a distinct pang. Dawn sighed, and set herself to measuring off a length of the red wool.

A few minutes later, they were ready to start. Anya had the hair and wool in her lap, and Dawn was in charge of the herbs. Anya gave an excited grin.

"Okay, away we go." She closed her eyes, settled her expression into seriousness, and began intoning. "Hecate, Diana, Devi – Women of the underworld, hear the call of your supplicants. Spirits of the night, I invoke you now!"

The candle flames seemed to straighten in response. Dawn widened her eyes, then quickly lit the charcoal as she’d been instructed. She added handfuls of lotus and verbena powder, and the censer began to steam strongly. Anya coughed, cracked open an eye and glared at her. Her voice was a stage-whisper.

"Hey, go easy on the herbs, okay? My nose is starting to run."

"Oh, sorry."

Anya closed her eyes again and continued. "Goddess, we call you by name and ask your benediction – accept our offerings, made in love and gratitude. This special boon we ask, to open a channel from one friend to another, in trust. Bind this conduit to your will –" She held up the lock of Dawn’s hair in her fingers, and twisted a short length of the red wool around it. As Dawn watched in amazement, when Anya released the woollen thread, it continued to wind around the hair like cotton winding onto a bobbin. When the short tuft of hair was completely bound in red, Anya held it out before her.

Dawn swallowed. Her voice – she was going to be the one to whisper in Buffy’s ear, tell her the right way to go, the way to get Spike out. With luck, and a bit of magical intervention, Spike would be safe from that mean old blood-stealing Cleopatra chick…

"Dawn! I need you to concentrate for this!"

Dawn straightened. "Oh - okay, sure." She closed her eyes and tried to think about Buffy – Buffy in the maze, looking for the right door to Spike, Buffy rescuing Spike, Spike jumping up and punching out Cleopatra – take that, you vamp-napping Egyptian priestess, Evil Dead is back in action…

With the red-bound hair at arm’s length, Anya touched it to one of the candles. It flared up brightly, giving off thick smoke as it charred and turned to ash. Anya wrinkled her nose.

"Ew – burning-hair smell always makes me want to heave. Now, where was I? Oh yeah – Goddess, let him who has ears to hear receive your words through this your vessel-" Anya leaned forward and, taking a smear of the ash onto her thumb, rubbed it lightly over Dawn’s lips. Dawn felt a tingling, and when she pursed her lips together was surprised to feel no trace of ash there. She did feel something, though…a kind of strange butterfly-dance in her stomach…

Anya rung out the last of the incantation. "- and grant the light of your wisdom to the one we seek. Our will to you, our gratitude for your graciousness – our thanks, powers from the four corners of the earth. So mote it be."

The light of the candles dimmed back to normal, and Anya sat up straight, looking at Dawn with eagerness and curious anticipation.

"So? Do you feel anything? What - what’s the matter?"

Dawn was shaking her head. "No, I don’t think it worked. Well, I felt something, but only for a minute. Now I just feel like... I don’t know -" She shrugged. "- just, kind of normal, I guess."

The ex-demon didn’t appear to be too fazed. "Well, maybe you don’t feel anything because you haven’t tried it out yet. Here." She jumped up and went to the counter, then bustled back into the circle and sat down, the mirror in her hand. She passed it over to Dawn. "What do you see?"

Dawn squinted into the mirror. The mist around the edges of the image cleared, and she saw Buffy, and the others – what were they doing lying on the floor? It was kind of like watching a tv picture, a little fuzzy, and vaguely distorted, the way your face was when you looked into the back of a spoon. Bad reception, maybe. Hm. Dawn frowned, and tapped the edge of the mirror with her finger.

Anya was nudging her, and giving her encouraging smiles. "Go on – say something. Try it out."

She felt a little ridiculous, talking into a mirror. Eyebrows raised, Dawn gave Anya a querying look, then turned back to the mirror. Okay – here goes nothing.

"Buffy?" Her voice was low. Maybe she was too quiet – she raised her tone a notch. "Um, Buffy – can you hear me? Buffy, it’s me."

Nothing happened. Or rather, something happened, but not what Dawn was expecting. When she spoke into the mirror, the faint vapour of her exhaled breath clouded the mirror’s image briefly, and then it disappeared – not dissipating, in the way of normal breath, but really disappearing, like it was being sucked down through the silvered glass of the mirror. Weird. But as for a response from her sister – well, there really wasn’t anything. Buffy didn’t seem to look up, or hear anything. Not very promising. Feeling vaguely foolish for thinking that this might have been a good idea, Dawn frowned and glanced back at Anya.

"Anya, this isn’t gonna work. I don’t think the spell went right."

Anya looked kind of huffy. "But it has to work! I did everything the correct way – I think. No, no, just try again."

Dawn shook her head, and tried to be patient with Anya. "Really, I don’t feel like it’s gonna happen. I mean, shouldn’t Buffy look around or something if she was hearing voices? Her expression didn’t even change."

"Maybe you were too quiet – maybe you have to yell." Anya’s expression was fretful. She so wanted the spell to work – she wanted to be of some help. Staying behind and looking after Dawn and the shop was a very responsible, adult thing to do, but it was so boring. She tried to encourage Dawn again with winning smiles.

Dawn just sighed. "It’s okay, Anya." She patted the ex-demon on the back. "It’s not your fault – maybe we’re just not the two best witches in town is all." She swallowed, and felt a faint tickle there. Probably the smoke from the censer giving her a sore throat.

Anya’s shoulders slumped in defeat. "Oh, alright. But if you feel something later, we can try again." She looked at the mess of witchcraft stuff on the floor. "Urgh – now comes the unpleasant part I always hate. Cleaning up."

Dawn smiled. "Yup, it’s the inescapable evil – as Mom always says. Here, let me help…" She moved to get a broom from out the back. Damn, her throat really was kind of tight now – she stopped at the sink to get a glass of water. As she filled the glass, she swallowed again, and winced. She felt parched, like her throat was going to close up. And her mouth and lips felt horribly dry. She really hoped that this wasn’t going to be another dose of the ‘flu.

When she emerged from the back room with a straw broom and a full glass, she noticed that Anya had already cleared up most of the magic paraphernalia. There was just the salt circle and other bits of ash and herbs remaining. Dawn set to work with the broom, and made the floor presentable. Then she went back to the counter, raising her glass and draining it in long gulps.

Anya came back from unlocking the door to the shop. She perused Dawn curiously. "Thirsty work, huh?"

"Mm." Dawn nodded. "Yeah, I must be coming down with something. Hey, maybe that’s why the spell didn’t work." She leaned against the counter, feeling tired all of a sudden.

"Coming down with something? As in, an illness?" Anya tried to look concerned while maintaining a discreet distance. Then she saw Dawn’s pasty face. "Are you okay?"

Dawn shrugged it off. "Yeah, I’m fine." She swallowed past the frog in her throat. "I don’t know, my throat is sore. I just feel - really dry. Like dessicated earth. He tried thinking about something else, like the last movie he saw. But that had been ‘From Dusk Til Dawn’, and the mental images of wet fountains of blood during the bar-brawl scene just made things worse.

God, he was going mental. In fact he had a sneaking suspicion that he really was going mental – a minute ago he’d thought he heard a voice in his ear. And not any voice either, but someone specific – the Slayer’s sister.

He blinked his eyes wearily. It wasn’t enough that he was about to expire from thirst, now he was having auditory hallucinations. And why the Niblet’s voice, of all people? He was about to berate himself for being a perverted old man, when it came again.

Well I know it’s you, luv, but I think you’ve got the wrong address. What the hell was going on? Oh, bollocks to this, he’d had enough. Electric shocks, painful blood-letting, now mystery voices asking after the Slayer… Spike sighed, let himself slump in the restraints. This was all becoming a bit too much.

And he felt in his gut the seriousness of that. He was weak, couldn’t even struggle anymore. He’d been close to a stake plenty of times in his unlife, but this was the closest he thought he’d come to actually fading out. He didn’t know how many times they’d sucked the stuffing out of him, but he didn’t think he could take much more. ‘Who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him?’ Well there couldn’t be a lot left. He was right on the edge.

Whatever was going to happen - if Buffy really was coming - it’d better be soon.

***

"You can’t say it was my fault!"

"Actually, yes, I can. Who else opened the door? The door fairies?"

"I already said it was an accident!"

"An accident? Oh, you accidentally put your hand on the door handle, and it accidentally opened? Please, give me a break, Xander!"

"Fine, just put the blame all on me – you’re just itching for a fight, is all. You’re just antsy about Spike."

"What?! Oh, that is low. You are such a –"

Oh, will you two please shut up. You sound like a pair of old ladies, and I’m trying to concentrate." Giles retrieved his glasses from the floor – damn, one lens was broken – and stood between the bickering pair.

The Slayer’s face was pink from earlier exertions, and from Xander’s last comment. The screeching didn’t help – bad for the complexion. Meanwhile, Xander’s hair was in disarray, and he and Buffy were eyeing each other off poisonously. Giles frowned at them both.

"Now - call a truce. We don’t have time for this, and there’s been more than enough fighting already." He looked peevish. The last thing they needed was to be arguing amongst themselves. They were in enough trouble as things stood.

Willow stepped forward from one side, where she and Tara had been taking cover, and tried to be placating.

"Come on, guys, Giles is right. Chill out." She placed a settling hand on Xander’s shoulder. He still looked angry. "I know we’re all strung out – but it’s gonna be okay. We know you didn’t mean to open another door, Xan." She looked over at Buffy, who had straightened and was trying to smooth her hair and her composure. "Really, he didn’t, Buffy."

Buffy was staring at the floor. "Sure. Fine." She looked up and sighed. "I just – it’s okay. I’m sorry. I’m just tired." She glanced grudgingly at Xander. It was his turn.

Xander rubbed his face, where a long livid scratch marked one cheek, and then gave in. "Oh, okay, okay. I’m sorry. And I’m sorry I opened the door. I really didn’t mean to. It was stupid, true, and it nearly got Tara killed." He glanced over at Tara, an apologetic grimace contorting his face. "Really, very sorry about that."

Tara waved it away. "Oh, s’okay, I’m fine." Her face was still pasty though, and her shirt was ripped at the top, the collar half torn off. She gave a shaky grin. "I’ll get over it. I mean, I may carry a fear of large dogs for the rest of my life, but I’ll deal."

"Jackals." Giles was trying to fix his crooked spectacles absently, while keeping an eye on Buffy and Xander. "They were jackals. But they certainly were nasty."

"Very. " Willow nodded vehemently. "But they’re gone now. And there’s only four doors to go."

"Right. Halfway there is good." Xander was trying to recover lost ground – he still looked a bit embarrassed. "Are you sure you’re okay, Buffy?"

"Yeah, I’m okay." Buffy sighed, and picked up her crossbow from the floor at her feet. "And halfway is definitely good." She gave Xander a conciliatory smile.

"Yeah," Willow prompted. "I think we should be aiming for the ‘half-full not half-empty’ approach."

Giles nodded his agreement, thanking the heavens for Willow’s soothing presence. "Yes – we’ve coped with arrows, mist, winds, and jackals so far, with no major injuries. I think we’re doing extremely well. We just have to proceed carefully from here..." He skewered Xander with a glance. "…and stay focused." This time he caught Buffy’s eye.

"Okay, right. Focus." Buffy’s face went suitably mortified, then she let it go and started reloading. She looked around at the others. "So is everyone happy? Giles, do you think we can stop for a rest?"

He checked his watch and frowned. "I’d like to say yes, but I’m afraid that time is getting away from us. It’s nearly ten o’clock, so we only have two more hours, and we don’t know what lies ahead after these challenges." He said it reluctantly – he was feeling rather tired himself. They’d all rested before setting out for L.A., but this seemingly endless round of battles was draining.

Everyone was looking decidedly peaky. Tara had borne the brunt of the last attack, but both she and Willow had burned up a lot of energy by wielding magic so often. Of all of them, Xander was the freshest, but there was still a long way to go. And Buffy’s face was pale, in spite of her Slayer strength. More than anything it was the anticipation of something, the not knowing what lay just around the corner, that wore on them all the most. Giles felt like they’d been inside Heliopolis forever.

Now they’d all regained their breath, Giles walked through the group, leading them back to the top of the hall, to Door Five. He stood with his hand loosely on the handle as they all gathered around.

"Are we ready?" He looked at everyone.

Buffy stood at point, crossbow at the ready. Xander was on one side of her, and the two witches on the other.

"As we’ll ever be," muttered Willow. Everyone braced for action.

"Alright." Giles took a breath. "Here we go." He turned the door handle, and quickly pushed it open and jumped to one side.

Nothing happened. The door swung open smoothly, but nothing came out. Buffy frowned. This was strange.

"The room looks empty."

She took a tentative step forwards, looked inside. Nothing. It was a plain office room – four tan walls, carpet, no windows,no furniture.

"Weird," Tara said.

Giles looked around the door at the empty room. "Hm. Perhaps we’re supposed to enter…" He tried the ‘flail-throwing’ trick again, this time with his pocket handkerchief. It fluttered to the floor. No response.

"Maybe we got lucky," Xander suggested. "Maybe Satis forgot to fill this one up with badness."

"Doesn’t really sound like her style," Willow replied.

"No, it doesn’t. " Giles looked at the Scoobies. "Well, I suppose there’s nothing for it but to try going in." And before Buffy could protest, he took a few steps inside, just past the door.

Nothing.

"How odd." He surveyed the room, and turned to address the Scoobies outside. "I think it’s empty. Xander might be right."

At which point the door abruptly moved, slamming closed in their startled faces. With a sick feeling in his stomach, Giles heard the lock click in place.

"Or not," he said quietly. Oh dear.

There was a snicking noise from above. Giles stared up to see half a dozen small vents open in the ceiling. Bloody hell, what now? He had his answer after a few seconds, when sand began pouring out of each vent. Normal sand, pouring down in a glistening shower. Giles looked at the rapidly forming mounds circled around him. A lot of sand.

He could hear thumping on the other side of the door.

"Giles!! Giles, what’s going on?" Buffy’s voice, high-pitched and anxious. "Xander, let me try."

The thumping became a steady pounding – Buffy seemed to be throwing her considerable strength against the door, to no effect. Giles could hear the voices of the others, a muffled babble.

He went to the door and tried the handle, which held fast, naturally. He projected his voice through to the other side. "Buffy, can you hear me? It’s alright – I’m still here. It’s just sand."

"Shush for a sec, guys. Giles! What’s going on?"

"It’s sand, Buffy. Coming from the ceiling." He looked back at the room – the floor was awash with sand now, a miniature sea of the stuff flowing out from the ever-rising hills in the middle. The room was small, and he now became aware of exactly how small. The sand was almost ankle deep, and it had taken only a few minutes.

"Ahm, I think it might be a good idea to get me out of here as soon as humanly possible."

"Giles, hang on. We’re working on it."

The sounds of thumping at the door changed, and it now became obvious that both Xander and Buffy were shoulder to shoulder, trying to ram their way in. Whether the brute-force method was going to work remained to be seen, however. The door looked like it was made of some flimsy material, as per standard office construction everywhere, but it didn’t even budge under the attack. Giles surveyed the rapidly filling floorspace, and decided to try something of his own. He stood back a little from the door, held up a hand towards it and pronounced a Word. He’d done a little defensive research of his own, prior to leaving Sunnydale, and had a few tricks up his sleeve – and one of them was an understanding of certain words of power from the older languages, words that were tuned very closely to the physical vibrations of their meanings. Say the Word, and you could produce the desired effect. Such as the Word for ‘open’, which he’d just tried.

Yes. Well, it had sounded good in theory.

Suddenly, Willow’s voice came above the din of the door. "Giles! What are you doing in there? You just wrecked the opening spell we were working on."

"Oh – sorry. You try first." He felt a warmth at his knees, and looked down to see the rising tide of sand swelling against his legs. "Er, can I suggest quickly."

He heard a rise of voices outside, a light tone and a lower one, intertwined to create something altogether new. There was a brief moment of dislocation, an odd feeling in the air, and his ears popped, as though he was at a high altitude. But the door stayed shut.

Tara’s voice now. "Sorry, Giles. We just tried a spell, but it didn’t work. I think there might be some kind of protection around the door. You wanna try?"

"Alright. Stand away – if this does work, the door could blow outwards." He heard a shuffling as the Scoobies repositioned themselves outside. Then he tried the Word again, and once again it produced no discernible result.

"Giles?"

"Ah, give me a moment."

He tried again – this time the Word for ‘disintegrate’, which could also translate as ‘shatter’. But he felt it himself, the blocked sensation that Willow and Tara had obviously encountered before. It was like trying to swallow past a lump in your throat, or pushing against an invisible barrier.

"No – this isn’t going to work. There’s definitely something blocking magic on the door."

He could hear more shuffling outside.

"What are you doing out there?" He listened at the door, and Buffy’s voice came in reply.

"Giles, don’t stress, we’re trying to get you out. Just hold tight."

"Oh, I’m not going anywhere," he sighed. He looked around at the room again, at the waterfall of sand falling from the ceiling. Then he did the only thing he could think of – he pulled his legs up out of the mound he was in up to his knees, slipped off his shoes, and tried to settle himself in a spot that wasn’t filling up so rapidly.

Out in the hallway, Xander was trying to prise open the lock with his dagger.

"Hang on…it feels like it’s gonna – ow!" The tip of the knife abruptly snapped off, lodged in the seam of the door. Xander held up his broken knife and frowned at it.

"Well, so much for that. Someone give me a crowbar and I’ll be a happy man."

Buffy was getting seriously worried now. "Come on, there has to be something we can do. If we don’t get him out, he’ll be buried alive in there."

Giles’ muffled voice came from behind the door. "Thank you, Buffy, that idea had occurred to me."

Buffy winced. "Sorry, Giles. We’re just wracking our brains here." She turned to Willow and Tara. "Can we use anything else to batter the door down?" She caught Xander’s eye. "There wasn’t anything in the lift, was there? A fire-axe or something? Maybe we have to go back and get something…"

Xander shook his head. "I didn’t see anything on the way up. And there’s nothing here in the hall. I mean, we could try breaking it down again ourselves, but I think if I keep going with that I’ll probably just break my shoulder or something."

"Xander’s right," Willow said. "There’s nothing else we can use. Maybe we could try another spell…"

Then Tara, who’d been contemplating the door, looked at Buffy. "I have an idea. It may be a long shot, but…"

Buffy rounded on her. "Shoot. I’m game for anything at this point."

"Well," Tara began slowly, "maybe we don’t have to go back – maybe we have to go forward. I don’t know if you’ll like this, but I have a feeling that somehow these challenges may be interlinked."

Willow got excited. "Oh, oh, yeah – I know what you mean. Like, this one has to be defeated by using something from the next one. Like a computer game."

Tara shrugged. "Like I said, it’s an idea. But I’m not sure about it, and…" She left the sentence hanging, looking over at Buffy.

"…and it means that we may have to open another door." Buffy finished. Her expression said that she didn’t think much of this new plan. She chewed on her lip. "I don’t know, guys, we seem to have enough trouble taking on these challenges when there’s all of us to fight. I don’t know if we can do this without Giles."

"Do what?" Giles’ sounded a bit peeved at being left out of all the important conversations.

Buffy called through the door. "Giles, Tara has an idea I want to run by you. She thinks that maybe we have to go on to the next challenge to find something to get the door open."

"Oh, I see. Like one of those computer game thingies."

Willow raised an eyebrow at Tara – she hadn’t thought that Giles even knew what a computer game was.

There was a pause, then his voice went on. "I see. Well, if that’s our only option then I have to agree. But you better hop to it. It’s getting rather, er, flooded in here."

Buffy looked back at the others. She didn’t like it, but there didn’t seem to be anything else they could do. She sighed. "Okay – let’s do it. Oh, wait, there’s one problem. Which door do we open?"

She looked around at them – Tara shrugged, Willow looked equally confused, Xander just frowned at the remaining three doors. Oh nuts. All the big decisions came down to her. She straightened her shoulders, took the standard ‘have-a-guess’ approach,and pointed at the next door along the hallway, on their left.

"Okay. That one."

End of Part Three

Continue to Part Four (Chapters 12-13)

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