16 - Nuclear Explosions, Sensory Memory, and Really Old Books

#

SEEKERS: Psychics attuned to the specific vibrations of magical energy. Sometimes called Witchfinders or Bloodhounds, Seekers can home in on the emanations of magical artifacts and/or entities from a large distance and follow them to their source. Well-trained Seekers have ranges up to several miles. They are often employed by law-enforcement agencies for the solving of magically-aided crimes or by archeological firms looking to find and unearth magical artifacts.

Seekers are generally uncomfortable in the presence of large groups of preternatural entities and/or strong magical artifacts, as only very few of them have enough control over their abilities to shut them down.

Rosenberg Index of the Preternatural, vol. XXVI, September 2057

#

"Echo probing shows several air pockets in this layer here," the geologist told Darla, "apparently formed when the molten rock settled after the explosion. We've put the Seekers on them."

Darla nodded, the geological map of the excavation area swimming before her eyes. God, she was tired. Even Vampires needed sleep and she hadn't gotten much of that as of late. They had been looking for the Necronomicon for three weeks straight now, with no luck.

The environment didn't help much. They had to rotate their mortal personnel in short shifts, as the radiation remaining from the explosion all these decades ago was still too strong to warrant more than a few hours of exposure at a time. It didn't bother the Vampires, but they could only work throughout the night and even they had problems with the extreme cold.

She knew that the only real hope of finding the book under this huge mass of molten rock were the Seekers. Willow had sent them their best, a dozen psychics that worked themselves to the point of exhaustion trying to home in on the Necronomicon. They had to cover a very large area, though, and there was no telling how deep the book might have been buried.

One would thing a magical artifact of such power would be easy to find, Darla thought tiredly. But, as in so many other things, the Necronomicon wasn't conforming to expectations. The area was rife with magical hotspots, remains and echoes of the power unleashed here. The soul magic Grigori's sorcerer had worked, the opening of Acathler's gate, Angel reversing that same spell with his blood, all this had left dozens and hundreds of false leads for the Seekers to follow.

They had half a dozen excavation sites working at the moment where the Seekers thought they might find something. Another ten already stood abandoned, false leads that had left the work crews every bit as disappointed and frustrated as herself.

"Your men and machines are holding up?" Darla asked the chief of the excavation team.

"Certainly. A few loose nuts and bolts here and there, but nothing we can't handle. I am more worried about damaging the book if we finally find it. Blasting through dozens of meters of molten rock isn't exactly gentle work."

"If the book survived a nuclear blast I don't really think there is anything you can do to scratch it." With a sigh Darla sank back in her chair. "Let me know the moment you find anything! We need that book and we need it yesterday."

Her people slowly filed out of the command trailer, leaving her to her own thoughts. Thoughts of Rupert Giles, who was travelling to Heaven with the Slayer by his side. Thoughts of Angel, who was holding talks with Hell and its lawyers. Thoughts of Willow and her Magitech people, who worked themselves into an early grave trying to find some way to stabilize the Threshold. All the people who did everything in their power to prevent the catastrophe that was hanging over their heads in the form of a billion and more glowing souls.

"And it never gets properly dark anymore, either." She mumbled to herself.

Knowing that she would never be able to sleep anyway, Darla took out the work still left on her desk, even here in the remote wasteland. The work of the CEO of one of the world's top ten financial holding companies didn't stop just because that same world was about to end. There was an endless number of papers to sign, contracts to approve, details to check.

She tried to work off a bit of the backlog that had piled up in her workbasket for about ten minutes, only to realize that it was for naught. Her concentration was completely used up by things that had nothing to do with stockholder problems, tax issues, or interest rates.

There was another pile of papers on her desk and she pushed the corporate work aside to look at it. Ever since they had confirmed that the Necronomicon was in fact the cause of the current problem they had spared no effort in trying to learn everything there was to learn about it. Everything that could possibly help them use it again without causing an even bigger problem down the line.

Most of the literature that existed about the Necronomicon had been written by Angel himself, notes he had assembled during the ninety years the book had been in his possession. They also had a handful of obscure references, the same that had originally led Angel to finding the book. Their intensive search had also produced a couple of previously unknown writings about it.

The oldest of references they found was from ancient Egypt, around 500 BC. Plus or minus a century or two. Apparently the book had been in possession of some kind of religious hermit, whose few written notes didn't speak well for his sanity. He rambled on about plagues and demons, giant figures in the sky, playing games with the entire world.

There was a woman in Japan around 100 AD who had apparently invoked the magic of the Necronomicon to banish dragons from the face of the Earth. She had paid for it with her life's blood, which caused a very uncomfortable feeling of déjà vu in Darla, remembering the price Angel had nearly paid for the closing of Acathler's gate.

The third and last reference, the one that had eventually led Angel to an abandoned monastery in the Balkans to find the book, had been written by a monk who had lived in the early 11th century. His words, barely decipherable on the ancient parchment they had found, haunted Darla in the few hours of sleep she had allowed herself.

'Woe be unto him who takes it upon himself to invoke a power the likes only the Allmighty should wield. Woe be unto him who thinks he can do so without consequences.'

What they still didn't know, even after all their research, was the book's origin. Who or what had written it? Who had just abandoned it to be found by this handful of people throughout the ages? Darla knew of the experiments Grigori had undertaken during the short time the book had been in his possession, knew how he had tried to find someone worthy, someone the Necronomicon would accept. Knew that he had failed utterly.

Darla didn't know whether finding the Necronomicon would be their salvation or just one more step on the road to damnation.

Maybe it was both.

#

Holger Bach was a man of 27. He had grown up in a world filled with magic and, though he knew that it had been a very different world just a few short decades before his birth, it was the norm for him. Magic was part of his being, it filled him, gave him a special talent that was so much a part of his life that he couldn't imagine being without it.

He had met his first Vampire when he was seven and still remembered exactly how it had felt. The undead's aura had washed over him like a cool wind, filling his mouth with the taste of rose petals and water shimmering in the moonlight. That same year he had met a werewolf and he had almost fainted when the odor of evergreen assaulted him, accented by the heavy aroma of freshly turned earth.

Holger had studied at the Humboldt University in Germany and by the time he had graduated he knew the taste and scent of just about every preternatural creature that walked the Earth. Sally, the familiar of his boss Willow Rosenberg, had been one of the few exceptions. The cat creature tasted like salty sweat and made his ears ring with the sound of padded feet brushing over plush carpet.

When Ms. Rosenberg had sent him and several other Seekers to Siberia in order to find the famed Necronomicon Nocturnum Holger had expected to feel something familiar. Maybe the same dusty leather smell that surrounded the only surviving manuscript of Nostradamus. Or maybe he would hear the softly singing voices that rang out from the sword Excalibur day and night, even as it rested in its airtight casing in the Tower of London.

This stretch of Siberia was filled with echoes of powerful magic, but so far Holger had gotten little more than a faint scent of old leather, maybe the barest tidbit of jasmin in the air, a sign for soul magic.

So it was the he found himself completely unprepared for the sensations that overcame him when his thickly booted feet touched a very nondescript spot of Siberian rock.

His colleagues later told him that he went completely catatonic for at least ten minutes, maybe more. They told him that tears ran down his face, leaving a trail of ice on his cheeks as the cold embraced them. They also told him that he seemed to be softly glowing in the twilight cast by the souls hanging in the sky, as if their radiance had somehow made its way under his skin.

Holger remembered nothing of that, though. The only thing he was aware of in that one, timeless moment was the simple fact that he found it completely impossible to compare the sensations washing over him to anything else he had or would ever experience. There were no words to describe the smells that crept up his nostrils. No voice on Earth that could sing as beautifully as the one heard in that moment. Never again would earthly food be anything but boring to him.

His colleagues found him, rooted to the spot where he had set down his boot ten minutes earlier, and they could hear him mumble under his breath.

"Oh boy," he uttered, "oh boy."

17 - You Didn't Think It Would Be That Easy, Did You?

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NEWSFLASH: The phenomenon that has filled our skies these past twelve days shows no sign of abating. If anything the lights visible behind the dimensional interface, which appear to be actual human souls, seem to grow more numerous and closer to our own dimensional plain with every passing moment. The governments of Europe and the United States have announced that an extensive investigation is underway in order to understand this phenomenon and deal with it. Spokespersons of Magitech refused to comment on the extent of the firm's cooperation in this matter or the rumors that the family of the famed Vampire Angelus is in some way involved.
 

Download from Global News Network Omninet, November 29, 2057

#

The Stepping Disk glowed a bright gold as it appeared in the exact coordinates they had come in, which Buffy still couldn't quite explain to herself. How did one set coordinates in a place where space was conspicuous by its absence?

The thought didn't have much time to go around her head as she and Giles made contact with the glowing disk, causing their entire world to turn sideways. There was that feeling once again, someone running his hands up and down her body, causing her to shiver in delight as space and time warped around her. Once again she wondered why Magitech had never put this into their advertising brochure.

A second later they were back in a place that was definitely somewhere instead of nowhere. The huge main laboratory of Magitech Central took shape around them, gravity reasserted its hold, and the roaming hands disappeared into the same thin air they had come from. Buffy stood on the now the inert Stepping Disk, shaking away the aftereffects of going where no woman had ever gone before. Not alive, that was.

"Buffy!"

Her husband's voice was more than enough to wrench her back to reality. Before she even had time to see him coming there was the feel of his blood, the pulsing of their bond, and suddenly his arms were around her, pulling her into his cool flesh.

The Stepping Disks had nothing on being in her Angel's arms.

They stayed like that, his arms around her, her head resting against his chest, not needing any words to communicate with one another. Giles, Willow, the many technicians and workers around them, nothing mattered right that moment.

Buffy could feel his worry and weariness running through her veins, as well as his relief to have her back in his arms safe and sound. She caught the extreme revulsion that something he had seen during his own journey had left him with, as well as the rage he felt against someone he felt had done a great wrong. She experienced all these feelings as if they were her own, sharing them, easing the load that rested on her beloved's shoulders.

Angel in turn felt her emotions as well. He knew how deeply disturbed she was by what she had experienced in Heaven, knew how deep her disappointment with that supposedly bright and cheerful place ran. Her relief at seeing him again was a mirror to his own and for a long moment he did nothing but bask in the warmth of her skin, her love. She was his daylight, his blazing fire. That had never changed, nor would it ever.

Reality intruded all too soon.

"Clear the Disk!" The voice of a technician sounded out to them. "Activation sequence has begun. Clear the Disk immediately!"

Giles, Buffy, and Angel did as they were told, a bit confused by the sudden activity around them. Willow and a few of her best witches were standing close to the main controls of the giant mechanism that harnessed both their own magical power and the raging energy of the fusion reactor in the adjoining room.

"Willow, what's happening?" Buffy asked her friend as they reached her.

"We just got a call from Darla in Siberia. She asked us to open the Stepping Disk to her present location."

Angel and Buffy looked at each other. Again no words were needed. Darla was in Siberia for one reason and one reason only. And the fact that Angel's Sire asked to be teleported back here instead of travelling the distance by conventional means could mean just one thing.

"Stepping Disk opening!" The technician called out. Three witches were situated around the golden disk, chanting, even as the air around them vibrated with unleashed power, magical and natural. The Stepping Disk began to glow, burning all the shadows out of the room with its radiance. Buffy shielded her eyes with her hand, but was still able to see three shapes slowly coming into view in the center of the light.

Then the light went out.

"Hi, Peaches." Spike said, standing beside Darla and Faith in the middle of the Stepping Disk, all of them dressed in thick winter clothing. None of them looked particularly happy to be here. Almost as a side note Buffy observed that Faith was busy shaking a brief look of pleasure from her face, but neither Spike nor Darla seemed to have experienced anything.

Maybe the Stepping Disk didn't give dead people a happy, Buffy almost chuckled.

"You have it?" Angel asked, banishing every thought of laughter from his wife's mind.

Spike sighed deeply, then reached beneath his coat.

During the last 24 hours Buffy had been to Heaven, had seen the terrible emptiness in the eyes of creatures she had always associated with goodness and light. She had seen that the hereafter was not a place of fluffy clouds and happy harps. Instead she had found it filled with swords and armor, terrible weapons of destruction, fierce warriors possessed of nothing but the desire to destroy their hated enemies, even if all of creation perished at the same time.

She had seen the terrible perversity of a billion and more souls imprisoned in a tower of black glass and had learned the sickening reason for it. Had learned that the souls of the departed were nothing but fodder for Heaven's huge siege engine, its sole purpose the obliteration of Hell. She knew that the sound of screaming souls would haunt her nightmares for years, maybe decades to come.

All of which paled in comparison to the dread holding her in its grip the moment Spike took the Necronomicon Nocturnum out from underneath his coat, freshly excavated from what should have been its eternal resting place.

"Special delivery." The bleached Vampire joked without humor. "Our one-way express ticket to damnation."

#

The Necronomicon Nocturnum looked incredibly mundane and ordinary for an object of such dark power, Angel had always thought. A simple book, bound in black leather, seemingly untouched by time and decay. The only visible sign of it being anything but ordinary were the strange symbols etched into its cover. Symbols that were disturbing in a way impossible to describe and seemed to change every time he did not look at them directly.

The book rested on the table in front of him and Angel felt that it was looking at him every bit as much as he was looking at it.

They were in one of Magitech Central's conference rooms, all the people he trusted the most. Spike and Darla, his family. Buffy, his wife, as well as Giles, who might as well be his father-in-law. Wesley, his oldest friend among mortals, quite dead himself now, yet still with him. Faith, whom he would always think of as his little sister, no matter that there had been a time she had tried to become more than that to him. Willow, his wife's best friend, as well as Sally, who had become a part of their family during the few short years she had been here. And Kendra, Wesley's daughter-in-spirit, finally reunited with her Watcher, even though it was beyond the grave.

All of them were here. All of them watching him as he studied the book.

Two times before had he opened its pages, subjecting himself to its unknown method of selection. Both times the book had yielded to him, allowing him to invoke its power, where it had burned a hundred other men and women who had tried to do the same. Angel did not know why the Necronomicon had chosen him as worthy by whatever standards it might use. Neither did he know whether he should feel honored or damned because of it.

He took Buffy's hand in his, giving it a loving squeeze as they communicated without words. There was no sense in putting it off.

Letting go of his wife once more, he instead reached out and opened the book.

"Fascinating!" He heard Wesley mutter, but paid him no attention. The book opened under his hand, the pages turning of their own accord, indecipherable symbols flashing past him too fast to follow. He could feel the Necronomicon reach out toward him as it had done the first two times and, for just a moment, seemed to sense something very much like joy from it. The joy of once again seeing a long-lost friend.

"I am not your friend!" Angel mumbled under his breath, too low for anyone to hear. Buffy gave him a look, sensing his emotions, but wisely remained silent.

The Necronomicon seemed uncaring about his feelings towards it and opened, the symbols coming into focus as he concentrated on what he sought. When he had found it in the Balkans 150 years ago he had browsed through the pages with his fingers, too hurried and desperate to realize that they were turning by themselves just as quickly. The second time, with Acathler's gate opening in front of him, he had just opened it and arrived on the right page at the first try without a single clue as to how.

This time, though, he went through the book from beginning to end. His mind filled with things he barely understood, flashing by too fast to do more than glance at them. He read descriptions of terrible powers, of elemental forces, beings too vast too even begin understanding them. He read the things the Necronomicon could do, the things it had been created to do long before humanity had been so much as a blink in the universe's eye.

The Necronomicon contained knowledge and magic about all things that were of the night. Vampires, demons, the fearful things that hid under your bed in the darkest hours before dawn. It described the empty places between the lights and how to traverse them, showed him brief images of plagues and curses, of doors it could open and close, of the powers it was able to invoke and banish.

In the span of a few heartbeats the Necronomicon showed Angel all that it was, all that it had been made for, everything it could do.

And what it could not do.

Angel slammed the book shut, causing everyone present to start. Buffy was by his side instantly, feeling the growing despair inside of him through her blood.

"Angel?" She asked, afraid that she already knew what it was that she felt.

"It's not in there." He whispered. "The Necronomicon can't help us."
 

18 - The Bittersweet Side of Being As One

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VINCULUM DIES NOCTIS CRUENTOS (Latin, outdated dialect): Translated as 'Day and Night, bonded in blood', referring to the bonding of a Vampire to a living human. Originally created by Vampire magicians around the 5th century AD, its original purpose was to give a Vampire Master control over a human slave, to be the Master's eyes in the daytime. The servant would share the Vampire's immortality and enhanced strength and stamina. The bond was not used often, though, as it was not always the Vampire that ended up the master. Strong-willed humans could just as easily make slaves out of the Vampire bonded to them. There was another drawback to the bond, as both of the bonded would die if one of them perished.

There are rumors of a Vampire-human pair who bonded themselves together as equals, but no concrete information is available on that bonding, if it truly exists.
 

From Daniel Thornton's 'A Study of Vampires', first published 2029 AD.
 

#

"What do you mean it's not in there?" Faith asked.

"It's pretty self-explanatory, pet." Spike grumbled, his hand shoved down his coat pockets. "Not in there means it's not bloody in there!"

"Nothing at all?" Giles inquired.

Angel shook his head. "There is no mention of the Ethereal Threshold or anything connected with the barriers between worlds. I found several chapters on soul magic, but no clue on how to repair the damage done by them."

A heavy silence settled over the room, all eyes inevitably drawn to the large windows, beyond which the sky was still filled with the brilliant light of a billion and more souls. Fugitives from Heaven and Hell, looking to escape these terrible places, which no one could blame them for, but causing Armageddon in the process.

"There must be something we can do." Buffy said angrily. "I refuse to believe that we can't stop this."

"Maybe this damage can not be undone." Giles shook his head. Ever since he had first noticed what was happening, he had been certain that, together with his old friends and family, they would find a way to stop it. Now, though ...

"No!" Buffy insisted, balling her fists. "There has to be a way. We can't let these ... these winged bastards just come down here and smash everything to pieces."

She turned toward Angel, looking at him with pleading eyes. "Wasn't there anything? Any mention of something that might be of use? Nothing in that entire damned book?"

Angel closed his eyes, allowing his thoughts to go over everything the Necronomicon had shown him in that few short seconds he had opened it. So many spells and curses, powers to be evoked, entities to be summoned. Yet there was nothing ...

Or maybe there was?

Without a word he reached out for the book once more, the tiniest glimmer of hope reawakening in his thoughts. The magical pages opened under his touch, the presence of the Necronomicon again extending into his thoughts, his very soul. Like a cold lover's caress he felt it rummaging through him even as he browsed through the book, fired in by the pleading in his lover's eyes. Both Angel and the Necronomicon were looking for something they wanted. Something they needed.

There! Something was there, just out of reach. Something the book had hidden from him the first time for a reason all its own. Something it was still hiding from him, though not as thoroughly as before. Something that it didn't quite think him worthy of. He could feel it searching his soul, could feel the tendrils embedded there once more.

What are you looking for in me, Angel asked silently. What made you choose me in the first place?

Buffy could feel it as well. The bond between them was wide open now and she felt a strange presence where no one but Angel and herself should be. She could feel his blood thunder through his veins, not driven by his dead heart, but by the power pouring through him. A power that reached out and found their bond.

Found Buffy on the other side of it.

Buffy gasped as her hand reached out without her consent, her body moving of its own accord, and came to lie across Angel's, both of them now touching the book. A flash of fear from Angel ran through both of them like a current. The Necronomicon had always burned everyone that tried to touch it, everyone except Angel. Only Grigori's sorcerer had managed to trick it into working for him by using Angel's blood. The same blood that flowed through Buffy's veins ever since they had been bonded.

Feeling both of them, having both of them touch it, the book judged once more. 150 years ago Angel had touched it, his entire being driven by but one thought. He wanted to create a better world, wanted nothing but that. A singularity of purpose the book had found to its liking. Just like the second time Angel had touched it, looking to save that same better world he had created from Acathler.

This third time, though, Angel was filled with doubt. It had been his using the book that had created this crisis. And even if he managed to undo the damage he had done, would that not damn all these souls now hanging in the skies back to a place he would not wish upon his worst enemy? There was no singularity of purpose to be found, none of that unshakable faith that what he was doing was the right thing.

So the Necronomicon had denied him the knowledge he sought. Had not shown him what he needed to see. Now, though, with his blood-bonded mate by his side, the equation had changed once more.

Angel was filled with doubts. Buffy was not. Not about him, not about what he had done in order to make the world a better place.

For the Necronomicon that was enough.

A light poured out of the pages of the Necronomicon Nocturnum, causing everyone to start back. Angel and Buffy just stood, his hand still resting on the book, her hand resting on his, and they looked at the things slowly taking shape in the air above the table.

"What is happening?" Willow asked.

"It's showing us what we need to know." Buffy and Angel said at the same time, their voices merging into a single one. It felt like they were fused where their hands touched, the Necronomicon's magic deepening the bond they had shared these past six decades.

Images appeared in front of them. Giant figures towering in the skies, hands cradling galaxies and moving them around like children would toys. Fingers that did not even remotely look human traced letters on the pages of a book. No, not one book. Many books. There were more of them.

They saw a figure, a book in hand, read from its pages and the sky ignited, stars forming from nothingness to light the darkness of night. Another figure read from another book and filled the void with life, creating creatures that basked in the light of the stars, embraced the life they had been given. The Necronomicon Nocturnum filled the night between the stars with life of another kind, the kind that hid under the beds of children and came out to eat them when the stars went dark.

Still other books were shown, wielded to create, to form, to fill. They watched creation unfold, orchestrated by figures much too huge to grasp, each of them with a book in hand.

"Oh, dear Lord." They heard Giles whisper.

"Is that what I think it is?" Willow's voice was barely audible.

They watched in stunned silence as the scenes unfolded and their eyes were drawn to yet one more book that the Necronomicon showed to them. They could see it directly before their eyes, a book that looked almost exactly like the one already in their possession, yet different. The strange letters on its cover shimmered and moved, resolving into something they could read.

Then the vision vanished and the Necronomicon closed once more.

"What a light show!" Faith mumbled, star struck.

Buffy and Angel's hand were still touching, the two looking into each other's eyes. Ever since the joining of the bond they had been able to share their senses, their emotions, and too a small degree even their thoughts. They also knew that the bond, theoretically, allowed one of them to control the other, though none of them had ever made use of that.

The Necronomicon had, though. It had forced Buffy to Angel's side, made them both touch the book. It didn't matter that it had brought forth the information they wanted, because for the first time that beautiful thing between them had been used for its original, ugly purpose. A bonding of master and slave, not equals.

It scared both of them.

"Libro Bordi." Giles mumbled the words they had seen in the vision, oblivious to the thoughts churning through Buffy and Angel at the moment. "Book of borders."

"Does that mean there is an entire set of books like the Necronomicon out there?" Spike asked. "Bugger me, I don't like that thought at all."

"Hear, hear!" Faith added.

"It might be a chance for us to fix the Threshold, though." Willow said. "It is a border of sorts, after all."

Buffy and Angel just looked at each other, not hearing the words of the others. The Necronomicon had touched something inside both of them. Had touched the demon, had touched the soul, both of their souls, had touched the bond that entwined them and perverted that bond, if just for a moment.

What has it done to us? Angel heard Buffy's words inside his head, clear and without effort.

I don't know. It was the only answer he could give her.

"Am I the only one to realize," Sally asked, shaking both Angel and Buffy out of their thoughts, "that the vision thing left out the important detail of where to find these books? I mean, we never even figured out where the Necronomicon came from. How are we supposed to find them?"

"It's not on Earth." Buffy mumbled, not quite knowing where that certainty came from. "It's elsewhere."

"That's helpful, really." Faith shook her head. "I mean, how many dimensions do we know of? Ethereal ones aside? That's a lot of room to search for one measly book, B."

Willow walked toward the table, her hand hovering a few inches above the Necronomicon as she closed her eyes and concentrated.

"Holger, the Seeker who found the book, told me that it had a very specific energy signature. Not at all like other magical artifacts. I'm not as proficient as he is in this, but ..."

A shimmer of magic crackled over her hand, then she opened her eyes again.

"I think we could come up with a tracking device. Something to home in on similar energy signatures."

Buffy tried to work up some enthusiasm for this silver lining on the horizon, but had a lot of trouble doing it. Angel squeezed her hand, his love pouring into her through their bond. The same bond the Necronomicon had used against them.

"It will be short-range at best." Willow took everyone's hope down a notch. "I'm afraid we'd still need a veritable army to look for it. It could be anywhere."

"An army that would have to cross dimensional borders in the process." Giles added. "That book could just as well be in any of the demon or ethereal dimensions. Or places beyond even that, considering what we have just seen. Even with all the ghosts present here, as well as the Stepping Disks, I fear ..."

"I think I know where to find such an army." Kendra said, causing everyone to look at her.

"You do?" Wesley asked, surprised.

"With the barriers breaking down like they do," the dead Slayer explained, "it is much easier to cross from one dimensional plain to the next like we have done twice now. If you are a disembodied soul, that is."

"Most of the souls don't seem interested in going anywhere but here, pet." Spike said. "How do you intend to get them to help us look for something that will lock them out again?"

Kendra looked at Buffy, then at Faith. "I want show you a place, sisters. A place where we can find the help we need."

"What kind of place?"

She told them. For a long moment none of them said anything, then Buffy turned to Willow.

"Fire up the Stepping Disk, Will! It seems we going to Slayer Heaven."

Go to Part 19