Black The Sun 2

The slim young technician in the white coat pushed through the translucent swinging doors, pulling the dolly tray and its precious cargo into the long antechamber. He swung the dolly in front of him carefully, and rolled it towards the massive curtained bed on his left, where the I.V. stand was already set up. He checked the feed - the plastic tubing ran down from the bottle and curled through the curtain without obstruction, but it was nearly past time for a change. With practised moves, the technician began hooking up the new bottle, handling the equipment smoothly. He'd done this so many times before, he could almost do it with his eyes closed. But he was too professional to try a stunt like that.

Besides - there was the guard to think of. The young man looked surreptitiously at the hulking creature to one side of the curtained bed. It's eyes were closed, it might have been asleep - but he knew that wasn't true. The thing never slept. He'd seen it's eyes open slowly, like a fringed clamshell underwater, at regular intervals, which seemed to indicate that it was perpetually on alert That - eyes open or closed - it was standing there, listening for every tiny sound. Waiting. The technician shuddered a little, and focussed on what he was doing.

He finished, and was about to turn away, when a soft sighing breath sounded to his left. The hackles on the back of his neck went up - the lady sure had a way of sneaking up on you.

"Everything is running well?" Madam looked at him with kohl-rimmed eyes, and a smile like a cobra. The black hair framed her face - symmetrical perfection - and her bare shoulders, exposed by the brocaded bustier, gleamed even in the dim light of the antechamber. The technician was forced to clear his throat before replying.

"Yes, Madam - everything is in order. We draw blood for the next transfusion in five hours."

Madam nodded slowly, approvingly. "Excellent. And the creature doesn't trouble you?"

"No, Madam - he is, er, a little more vocal than the previous subject."

The woman's expression went dreamy, staring through the curtain at an indistinct form lying there. "It is of no concern. He is the one who will restore my lord's vigour - and I shall be a true wife again." Her face hardened, and she snared the technician's gaze. "If a problem presents itself, come to me. All must be in order for the end of the saros tomorrow. And be careful with the creature - he is not to be drained and wasted like the others, he is of greater importance. You will see to it."

Her tone brooked no opposition. The technician merely bobbed his head deferentially. "I-I will, Madam."

Having secured his assent, the woman spun on her heel and strode off. The technician followed her progress down the long hall, then came to himself, swallowed and blinked, and quickly hurried back from where he'd come.

Chapter Six - The Skinny

With a groan and a stretch, Buffy finally let her eyes come open. She looked up at the pair of boxing gloves dangling from a rail above her, feeling a bit disoriented - oh, yeah. The Magic Box. She was in the training room. She rubbed at her eyes, pushed the rug off and rolled to sit up.

She was still in her clothes from the day before - urgh. God, she needed a shower. What time was it? She had no idea, but it felt kind of late.

It was starting to come back to her now - the fight at the crypt, Giles and the aspirin, Spike... Spike. She pushed herself up, combed her hair back with her fingers and twisted it into a knot at her nape. A quick poke into one of the cupboards found her spare set of training clothes, and she changed hurriedly into the sweatpants and long-sleeved black t-shirt. A splash of water from the sink in the corner had her feeling a bit more alert - a birdbath would have to do for now - and she headed out to the brightness of the front of the shop.

"Ah - the Kraken wakes." Giles sat back in his chair at the research table, rubbing the bridge of his nose and giving Buffy a smile.

"Hey, Giles - hey guys."

"The Buffster - at last. We thought you were gonna sleep all day." Xander had a book balanced in his lap. He and Giles and Willow were buried in research material, and Anya waved while serving a customer. The shop was quiet for a Saturday.

"Hey Buffy," said Willow, through a huge yawn. "Feel better after a rest?"

"Yeah, thanks - how long was I out?"

"It's twelve-thirty," said Giles, "so you've had a good three hours."

Buffy looked abashed. "I didn't mean to sleep for so long - and hey, what about you guys?" She checked out the table of tired Scoobies. Xander was fresh, but Giles and Willow were both looking a bit peaky.

"Oh, I've been asleep at the table, only Giles was too polite to say anything," Willow said with a wan grin.

"Actually, Willow, I was thinking that you should go home and rest with Tara. You must be exhausted." Giles relieved the witch of the book she had in front of her, and Willow pushed away from the table with a grateful smile.

"Can't argue with you there." She stood and pulled on a sweater as she prepared to go. "Thanks, Giles - Buffy, glad to see you're feeling better."

"Sure - oh, hey, how did the spell go?" Buffy's expression was both eager and anxious. She felt guilty now for her lengthy sleep - losing so much time.

"Yup, hit paydirt. But I can't-" Willow yawned again uncontrollably. "-oh boy. I'll let Giles fill you in. See you in a few hours." She walked to the door with a wave to the others.

Buffy slipped into Willow's seat, started perusing the books. "Okay, Giles, what's the skinny?"

Xander leaned back in his chair and caught her eye. "Spike's in L.A."

"Los Angeles?"

"Yes," Giles broke in, "and from what Willow and Tara said he's in quite a bit of trouble. Apparently he's being held in an office building near the city centre." He tapped a location on a street map. "Somewhere near here."

Buffy sat up straight in her chair, looking ready to roll. "Well, great. Then we can go bust him out, right?" She prepared to stand, but Xander reached over and put a restraining hand on her shoulder.

"Hold on a minute there, Action Girl - it's not gonna be quite that simple." He gave her an understanding smile, then looked over at Giles for support.

"He's right, Buffy." Giles took off his glasses, his face serious. Buffy registered that he looked pale, and rather tired. "The reading we've been doing suggests that the people who kidnapped Spike will put up quite a lot of resistance. He is central to their plans, and they've gone to quite a lot of bother to acquire him. They certainly won't give him up without a fight."

"Well, fine. I'll handle the fighting stuff, you guys can deal with the magicks." She couldn't help it - she had to do something, had to move, act. Every minute they wasted Spike was in danger...

"Hey -" Xander frowned at her, confused by her agitation. "- Buffy, relax. Spike can handle himself. Preparedness is next to godliness, remember? We can't go in before we're ready, or we'll just mess it up."

"But if we know where he is, then we can -"

"Buffy, chill out! I just meant -"

"Leave it, Xander." Buffy felt a small cool hand on her shoulder - Anya had walked up quietly behind her. "Can't you see that she's worried about him?"

Buffy swallowed and looked down. No, that couldn't be it - she couldn't be getting emotional about Spike. For pete's sake, he was just a friend, one of the gang. She'd do the same for any of them. Right? She looked up at Anya - the ex-demon's expression was neutral, but her eyes held sympathy, and her presence at Buffy's shoulder was oddly calming. Buffy returned her gaze to Xander's.

"Sorry - didn't mean to stress you out. But Anya's right, I'm worried. Those guys that vamp-napped him looked pretty serious."

Xander's face registered confusion. "You're worried. About Spike."

"We all are, Xander," Giles interjected smoothly. He fixed Buffy with a curious look, then slipped his glasses back on. "I think perhaps I should explain this situation in more detail."

Buffy nodded. "Please." A touch of sanity.

"Alright, well, the clues from Willow and Tara's location spell were very helpful. Spike is being held in a tower called Heliopolis, near the centre of L.A., as I said. As for the people holding him - well, we're still gathering data, but the woman you encountered this morning in the graveyard is important. Her name is Satis, and I've found links to this name in quite a lot of the literature to do with the cults of Upper Egypt, around the late Middle Kingdom period."

He pushed a large book in Buffy's direction - she gave it a cursory glance. "So this Satis - she's, what, a priestess?"

"In Egyptian mythology, " Giles continued, "Satis was the wife of the creator god, Khnum, who was later identified with Re, the sun god. Satis was therefore known as 'the eye of Re'. She's powerful, yes, and she performs a number of pivotal tasks, which I'll come back to later, but her primary power is through her husband."

Buffy blinked - obscure information overload - but indicated that Giles should go on.

"Now, in relation to our current problem, Willow examined the computer records to do with Heliopolis Tower, and discovered that the building is owned by one very wealthy man, an Egyptian named Aman Eddin Talis. Supposedly the deed for the land has been passed down through the family, but many of the records from overseas are conveniently incomplete, and land title records of Los Angeles seem to suggest that Talis' inheritance has been largely a deliberately confused paper-maze since the early 1900's"

Buffy frowned. "So, this guy has held it the whole time? Wouldn't that make him, like, impossibly old?"

Giles looked at her meaningfully. "Willow discovered references to Aman Talis, in the United States alone, as far back as 1859. Which means that Mr Talis has been around for at least a hundred and fifty years."

"He's a demon then, " Anya suggested. She settled herself on the table beside Xander, swinging her feet.

Giles shook his head. "Actually, it's more complicated than that." He took a deep breath to continue the narrative. "My own theory is that Aman Talis is a sorcerer of some kind - 'Aman' translating to 'Amun', a kind of alternative name for Re. So his power is from the sun-god, or perhaps just the sun itself. But such power requires regular renewal - as the sun goes through a symbolic renewal-"

"-at each eclipse." Buffy finished. The links were starting to come together.

"Exactly."

"So - what does this have to do with Spike? And how does this Satis come into it?"

"As I said, Satis is the wife of Re. She may not be the actual ancient priestess, she may not be as long-lived. But it's quite possible that she is some kind of reborn incarnation of the first Satis - a continuation of the soul, so to speak. Apart from her own magical power, which is considerable, her role is also as 'giver of the water', which the Ancient Egyptians believed could purify the dead. But the Egyptian hieroglyph for 'water' also translates as 'essence' - or blood."

"Spike's blood - his essence." Buffy breathed. She was starting to get a shivery feeling in her gut.

Giles nodded. "A vampire straddles the worlds of the living and the dead - and the older the vampire, the greater the power of it's essence." He looked at Buffy with concern. "I believe that Aman Talis is about to conduct a self-renewal at the time of the eclipse. And I'm afraid that Spike's blood is the key to the ritual."

Buffy sat back in her chair, feeling vaguely sick.

Xander frowned at Giles. "So, they grab Spike for a bit of his blood. Can't he just, I don't know, give a little donation and then they let him go?"

Giles shook his head. "I'm fairly certain that a ritual of this kind would require a complete transfer of energy to the recipient - in other words, Xander, they would have to drain Spike completely for the spell to work."

"Which would kill him, of course, "said Anya, stating the obvious with a bland expression. Then she took in Buffy's face. "Oh - sorry."

Buffy shook her head to clear the fuzz of conflicting emotions, then looked around at the faces at the table. "Okay - it's bad, then. So, we need to move - and we need to do it before tomorrow afternoon. Exactly how much time do we have, Giles?"

Giles took in her stony face. "The totality is scheduled for 12:17pm - so that gives us about 23 hours."

"Right." Buffy took a breath, looking at the books in front of her, but seeing something else entirely. When she raised her eyes, her expression was dark and unsmiling. "So, let's plan."

Chapter Seven - The Reborn, and The Rescue

In her dreams, she was a little girl again.

The sun was high above her; she could feel the sting of it's rays through the thick material of her hejab. She let the water from the spring flow over one brown hand, cooling her whole body with that simple touch. It felt wet, and tickling, like little fishes sliding through her fingers. She let herself smile for a moment, then moved to set the water-pot upright - it was heavy, and she tipped a splash of water off the top, knowing that she would have to return for another load in any case. She stood, rising off one knee then the other, and turned to make lifting the pot onto her head an easier task.

That was when she saw the horse, felt it's blowing breath. And a man, astride the animal - she was blinded by the sun, could make out only the dark silhouette, shadow falling on her as the man reached down, fixed her chin in his fingers, turned her head to face him. All she could see was blackness, forms above her outlined in brilliance, the gauzy light through the material of a head scarf - hearing the voice, echoing in her mind...

"Don't be afraid. I have found you."

She felt the faint panic of an unfamiliar touch - his hand on her hair. Her fingers went automatically to her hejab, thinking by rote that he was breaking the code - to touch a woman not of your kin, unmarried, it was forbidden by law... Then she heard another word - did he speak, or was the voice in her mind alone?

"Satis."

She blinked her eyes up at the figure, had to turn away from the light - when she looked back, he was gone. The horse, the man - she looked around wildly. Had anyone seen? Was it real? There was nothing but the sand, the sun, and the adobe walls of the village in the distance. Only the memory of warm fingers on her face remained.

In her dreams, he came again.

She was seventeen, and betrothed. Lying in the bed with her sisters, thinking of the morning to come - the robes, the mehndi, eating dates and couscous with her mother and female family members. She felt curiously unmoved by it all. She remembered thinking - Is it not strange, an unfeeling bride? No tears, no nervousness - no happiness. A stone of calmness. She let her mind drift...and when she heard the call, felt a swelling excitement. Moving gently, not to wake the others in the bed, creeping softly in her night-gown, padded feet over packed earth floors - she left the house.

Not sure where she was going, she let her feet direct her, inwardly amused as she wandered towards the boundaries of the village, towards the spring. Realizing the seriousness of her actions - a girl, engaged to be married on the morrow, walking through the village at night...she risked stoning, or worse. But she knew that this was not her fate - knew it in a place deeper than her conscious mind. Something else awaited her. She felt a sense of peacefulness, and was unsurprised to see the horse at the spring, it's rider observing her as the animal cropped grass.

"It's time - I have been waiting for you for so long."

"I know."

The rider reaching out towards her, her lack of fear...

"Take my hand, Satis."

And when she did, it felt like the burning of the sun...

Madam awoke with a soft gasp. Her eyes opened to see the view above - a swathe of cotton, embroidered and woven in the old way - a picture of stars, countless, and a bright spinning disc with tongues of flame...

She let her breath out silently. The dream again - and now she was returned, lying beside her husband on the huge bed in the antechamber. She closed her eyes again, willing herself to see the man who'd called her long ago - the tanned skin, the high cheekbones, eyes of dark granite, thick black hair running through her fingers as they kissed. The passion, the ecstacy of the embrace - warmth filling her blood, scouring her skin, a sizzle of fire as their lips pressed together, a liquid sun between her legs...

She opened her eyes, the image rising in her sight to replace the reality. Lying beside her, an old man - withered like a corpse, skin sticking to the bones, the robes of his office falling flat about him, his breath barely lifting the material, strands of grey feathered across his head. Eyes closed. Lips, once so full, now thin and white. Skeleton hands.

She sighed and reached out, touching one shrivelled cheek. Her husband - so close to death. In her mind's eye she interposed the reality with the old image, with the way it was.

Her face closed to sadness, and when she spoke it was with emphatic finality.

"And the way it will be again."

The drive felt like it had gone on forever, and when she saw the lights of the approaching city in the darkness ahead, Buffy had felt herself take a slow releasing breath. She'd been in Giles' car, his sporty little red mid-life crisis machine with the roof up, sitting in the passenger seat, listening with one ear, while Giles continued to explain aspects of the situation. She'd berated herself for paying scant attention, tried to focus on his words - words like 'totality', 'ritual', 'soul', 'rebirth' - but the only words she'd been able to focus on were 'Spike', 'blood' and 'death'.

What was wrong with her? She tried to tell herself that if they'd been going to rescue anyone else - Xander, Willow - she'd have felt the same sense of anxiety, the same swelling fear. Spike was one of the gang, a friend like any of her other friends. Well, not quite. Kind of a demon-friend. A friend with bumps.

But, bumps or no bumps, he was in trouble, and it was now up to her to make sure that he stayed in one piece. Which only made her think of him in pieces, and the feelings of fretful worry rose in her again. She shook her head, tried to sigh out some of the unbearable tension. She bit her nails - that helped.

"Buffy - have you been listening to what I just said?"

"Um - yup, sure. Magical priestesses and rebirth, and all that."

"Buffy -" Giles looked over at her briefly. When he returned his gaze to the darkness of the road, it was with an indecipherable expression. He spoke to her slowly. "Buffy - when we go into any situation, you know that it's important that you remain centred."

"And I am, Giles - totally centred, right here, in the centre."

He went on carefully. "And in order to do that, you have to be detached. Emotionally. To ensure that you stay focussed, you can't allow worry or fears to creep in."

Buffy nodded towards him, gnawing on her thumbnail, her eyes fixed on a point somewhere out in front of the headlights. "Yup - no creeping of any kind."

Giles sighed - this was going to be difficult. He tried again.

"Buffy, you can't let your feelings influence your judgement. Not when it comes to a confrontation of this nature. No matter who might be involved."

It started to dawn on her that this was Giles trying to be subtle. Buffy forced her hands back into her lap, and turned to her Watcher.

"Giles, it's fine. Really. Look, I'm worried about Spike, but I wouldn't be any less worried if it was you, or..I don't know - Dawn, up in that stupid tower thingy. I'd still want to rush in and smack heads together - it's just my nature. All this...Slayer energy, or something." She looked over at him, smiling, doing her best to appear calm and prepared.

Giles gave her an unconvinced look, then raised his eyebrows at the road and sighed. "Alright. As long as you understand the need for your undivided concentration..."

"I do. And I am listening to you - honestly."

"Good."

"I just need you to repeat that last thing you said about...whatever it was."

Giles sighed.

When they finally hit L.A. and started trawling through the streets it was nearly dawn. Giles drove slowly, in the way of someone who's not exactly familiar with the territory, and stopped once to consult the street map. Xander, driving Joyce's car, with Willow and Tara on board, had pulled ahead and turned into a side street. Obviously he was getting more accurate directions than the ones that Giles had.

In the end, they found Heliopolis Tower without too much difficulty. The only real problem had been the eternal one of cities the world over - where to park.

Pulling up a block away, in a meter zone, Buffy and Giles got out of the convertible and began unloading supplies. Willow and Tara tumbled out of the other car and looked around the quiet, still-dark street, followed by Xander, who stretched extravagantly.

"God - these L.A. trips sure don't get any easier on the ass."

Willow nudged him. "Well, just remember what Anya said - she wants the ass back, or she'll be mighty angry."

He held up his hands. "Hey - no problems there. I don't plan on being separated from my ass at this juncture. Maybe ask me in forty years or so, when the bunions start to set in."

Tara grimaced. "Thanks, Xander - just a little too much information."

Buffy wandered over, rubbing the kinks out of her neck, and leaving Giles scrounging in his pockets. "Hey there, fun trip huh? - as usual. And, by the way - any of you guys got change?"

Willow handed over a palmful of coins with a grin. "Here you go. You're lucky I remembered my last trip here. It'd be a tragedy if we came this far to rescue Spike, and were turned back by the meter maid."

Buffy smiled her thanks, and went back to the convertible. Xander locked up Joyce's car, and followed the two witches as they joined Buffy and her Watcher. Giles looked up from filling the meter, put in a final dollar and picked up a large duffle bag - it matched the one that Buffy was hefting over her shoulder.

"So are we ready then?"

Nods all round.

"Then - let's go."

The burnished spire of the tower gleamed in the early rays of the sun, and they aimed for it as the crow flies. A brief walk found the Scoobies out the front of an imposing building with a giant rostrum in the centre of what looked like the forecourt. Stone-paved walkways angled up in three directions towards the mammoth front entrance. The rostrum sign spun slowly on a central axis - on it's next turn, Willow and Tara looked at each other, after catching a glimpse of the name from their vision: 'Heliopolis' was carved into the stone in deep relief. Buffy couldn't help thinking of the names carved into gravestones, and suppressed a shudder. They all stood in silence for a moment, then Xander cleared his throat, and voiced the relevant question.

"So - how exactly do we get into this place?"

Giles spoke up. "Through the basement car park."

The other Scoobies looked at him in surprise. He shrugged.

"I rang Cordelia, and asked her to find out some potential entrances and exits from the blueprints in the Town Planning Office."

Willow frowned at him. "Gee, Giles - I wish you'd told me. I could have got that stuff for you on the computer."

Giles looked faintly put-out. "Oh."

Buffy straightened. "Well, anyway - great. To the carpark we go."

Giles pointed, and they headed around the side of the building, following the pavement and sculpted islands of garden, until they hit a downward sloping drive. The metal security door was down, but Giles went immediately towards the guards entrance, a regular door to one side. The rest of the group hung back while he fiddled at the doorknob for a moment - then he grinned, and pushed the door open with a little flourish. The Scoobies quickly hurried over and began filing inside. Buffy raised her eyebrows at Giles as she slipped through the door.

"Benefits of a misspent youth, huh?"

He gave her a self-deprecating smile. "Not totally misspent, it seems."

The car park was dark and low-ceilinged. The Scoobies stuck to the walls as they headed in the direction Giles indicated, towards an open lift, lit from within by a soft blue fluorescent light. Giles stopped them as they were about to go in, ushered them into a dark corner.

"Right." He leaned down a little to make himself heard at a whisper. "From here on in we are officially on our guard. We could get in trouble for being in the carpark, but we'll definitely be arrested if we're found in the building, though something tells me that this will be the least of our worries. We'll be going for the forty-first floor - that's the apartment level, and I'd say that we should pretty much be prepared for anything. Just try to remember what I've explained about the beings we're up against."

They all nodded. Buffy set down her bag and began unloading a few tasty bits and pieces, handing weapons to Xander, Tara and Willow.

Tara held up hers - a short handle topped by a ball of pointed spikes - and looked at Buffy with a confused expression. "A mace?"

Buffy shrugged apologetically. "To cut a long story short, I didn't know what to pack." She took in Tara's face. "Well, they're not vampires, so it's kind of pot luck, I guess."

Xander held up a long knife. "Don't you have an uzi in that bag or something?"

Willow looked up at him. "Quit complaining - I got the flail."

Buffy sighed, and left them squabbling in whispers over the weapons in the bag. She reached into the other duffle at Giles' feet and drew out a crossbow - and something else. Pulling it on over her black top and jeans, she rolled up the sleeves and belted it in hard at her waist. She looked up to find Willow staring.

"Buffy - you're wearing Spike's coat."

That drew everyone's attention. Buffy just shrugged, and tried to look nonchalant as she pulled her ponytail out of the collar.

"Yeah, well, you know, he might need it or something. It is going to be day when we get out of here, and I'd rather wear this than have to haul around a spare rug as anti-tan cover."

There was a collective pause. Giles cleared his throat. "Hm. Er, good thinking. Shall we continue?" He indicated the lift.

The Scoobies piled in, and stood bathed in blue light, waiting. Giles perused them all, weapons in hand, and felt oddly proud. He tilted his head. "Are we ready? Then Xander, if you don't mind..."

Xander leaned forward and hit the button for the forty-first floor, and with a hiss, the metal doors slid closed.

Chapter Eight - Desert Creatures

Dry.

His whole body felt dry. His throat was parched, and it was hard to swallow. His face felt tight, and if he'd been able to reach up and touch his skin, he thought it'd probably feel papery. Even his eyeballs felt dehydrated in their sockets.

His lips were dry, and his tongue inside his mouth felt swollen. Someone had removed the duct tape when they realized that he was beyond speaking. He'd lost track of time a while back. The lights above the plinth were always on anyway - with his eyes closed, he could still see a haze of brightness behind his eyelids. It was like being in the desert - a never-ending day, the burning of the sun, and the terrible thirst.

If this was what dying was like, he wished they'd hurry up and get it over with.

He was on tap now - they'd left needles permanently threaded into the veins in each arm, held in place with suture tape, and at some point they'd cut away his t-shirt to access the carotid artery, where it slid under his collarbone. Actually that had really hurt, but by then he'd been just too bloody tired to struggle.

Just too bloody tired.

He felt like he'd been microwaved - the moisture sucked away, replaced by sand. And with all the needles in him, he felt like a junkie, with a difference - getting all the nasty trackmarks, but without the compensatory high.

When they removed his boots to get at the veins in his ankles, it was all that he could do to make a small 'oh' of protest. And even then, no sound came out - just his lips moved, opening and closing, like a fish on a riverbank.

There were people moving around him, or maybe he was moving and they were standing still. Whatever. He hadn't bothered to look, it took too much effort. But he still recognized the odd flavour of the air when someone else entered the room, stood above the plinth looking down, shading him from the lights. He was grateful for the shade.

A low, accented voice, like honey.

"The creature looks depleted. You do not drain him completely?"

"No, Madam." A younger male voice. One of the technicians. "As per your orders, we only take the regular amount for the transfusions."

"He is not to be exhausted - if he dies before time, I will be...displeased."

"Yes, Madam." A nervous tenor to the voice now. "We're being very careful."

"That is good. Everything must be perfect. And stay alert - there are enemies approaching."

"Yes, Madam."

Spike felt a warmth of breath, and a softness on his cheek. Her hair. She was leaning in over him, close enough to whisper.

"Your little friends are on their way - I have felt it. They come to release you. But they will be too late. I have arranged...distractions for them." Madam tilted her head over the face of the vampire, examining him like a bug under a microscope, with an expression of detached curiousity. "Strange - you have strange allies. Why does a Slayer come to rescue such a one as you?"

He tried to crack open his eyes, meet her stare, but he couldn't focus. What had she said, about the Slayer?

Madam leaned over him with a final smile. "It is of no importance. Your friends will die, you will die - my lord will be restored." And she ran a red-tipped finger down Spike's face, from the top of his brow in a long line to his chin, before whirling away.

The lights came back with full force - Spike winced. And the line that Satis' finger had traced burned like solar fire.

The lift began a steady rise - the lights strobed dully at each floor. Buffy felt a chill under her skin, in spite of Spike's coat, and her stomach ascended against gravity. Her fingers curled and uncurled around the butt of the crossbow. This was it then - she finally got to square off against these Egyptian guys. She drew a breath, the skin under her ribs tensing with the memory of her last encounter, only yesterday, she remembered. The prospect of a good hard fight, and of finally doing something to get Spike out, had all her senses on overdrive.

Giles and the other Scoobies were silent, watching the lift lights and bracing themselves for the battle ahead. Suddenly Willow turned, as she thought of something.

"Oh - wait a sec. You might need this." She took one of Buffy's hands and pressed something into it. The Slayer looked down - a piece of metal on a leather thong nestled in her palm.

"What's this?"

"Here - let me put it on you, make it easy..." Willow took the necklace back, then stepped behind Buffy and slipped the thong around her neck. Buffy examined the metal - it was an amulet of some kind, a circle in the centre, framed by two triangles and a couple of curly lines.

"Gee, Will, thanks. But, um - what is it, if you don't mind me asking?"

Willow finished fixing the knot, and smiled at Buffy. "Cute, huh? It's a wedjet-eye - I found it in the shop. It's a symbol of Horus, and me and Tara did a few jiggies on it to boost it a bit - it's to protect against the evil eye."

Buffy smiled softly at the witch's thoughtfulness. "Thanks, Will." Then she quirked her lips at the two women smiling at her. "Wow, and I didn't get you guys anything..."

Tara grinned at her. "Just kick Satis' butt and we'll consider it even."

Giles interrupted. "That was a good idea, Willow. And I trust that you and Tara have those things I suggested you bring?"

Willow patted the pockets of her jacket. "Right here - and a few other bits and pieces that might come in handy."

Xander looked left out. "Geez, Giles, you didn't want me to bring anything? I could have wrangled, oh, a T-square or something."

Giles smiled faintly. "Thank you for the offer Xander, but I think we'll be relying on your, er, manly strength this time."

Xander tried to look manly. "Of which I have a great supply, naturally." The lift pinged, and his expression changed. "Okay - here we go."

The doors opened, and the Scoobies looked out at - a brick wall.

Xander looked confused. "Hey - kinda bad construction isn't it?"

Giles frowned. "Cordelia said the forty-first floor..."

"In my experience, doors are generally designed to open onto something. Buffy?"

Buffy frowned and then stepped forward and pressed her hands against the brick. The mortar was jagged in places...she had an idea.

"Tara, borrow your mace for a second?" She took the proffered weapon, and angled herself to the wall, looking back at the others briefly. "Okay -you might want to stand back a bit."

They all took a large step backwards. Buffy braced, then smashed the wall with the mace - plaster crumbled. She gave it a few more heavy thumps, until the bricks in the centre began to loosen. Then she returned Tara's weapon, and gave the bricks a solid push. About half a dozen bricks tumbled back into space, exposing a dead blackness in the centre of the wall.

"What the hell..?" Buffy leaned forward to peer through the hole, then recoiled with a gasp. A large black scorpion had scrambled up onto a brick near her face and squatted there, it's tail poised. Buffy jumped back. "Oh boy, critter alert." She took another step back when a second scorpion crawled up to join it's friend. Then another appeared - and another. They began skittering down the brickwork towards the floor of the lift.

Willow backed into the corner of the lift. "Anyone got a can of Raid?"

Xander lifted his boot and unceremoniously squashed the first scorpion to reach the floor. But there were more coming out of the opening - two more emerged, then another. Then more - a lot more.

Tara was trying to paste herself to the metal wall, getting that cringey feeling she always had around big bugs. She looked at the hole and gasped as a fringe of black legs began appearing above the bricks. "Oh - I think this might be bad..." And a torrent of scorpions began scuttling over the hole in the bricks and flowing towards the floor.

"Buffy, get back!" Giles was trying to squash scorpions underfoot. "And watch out for the tails..."

As Buffy turned, trying to stamp on the creatures, the folds of Spike's duster whirled like a dark party dress around her. She got five in a row, then had to shake off one that was climbing up her boot.

Xander was jumping from one foot to the other madly, trying to carpet the lift with dead scorpions. But for every one that he squashed, six more took it's place. He growled with frustration. "There's too many!"

Willow and Tara looked at each other, then Willow began scrabbling through her pockets. Tara licked her lips, and fought back her fear of creepy crawlies to step away from the wall and begin chanting. "Ignis, Ignis, Ignis - By Taweret, by Phoedima, by Aurora, by holy names I hold you fast. With fire I hold you fast, with binding I hold you fast, with will I hold you fast." With a moan, she reached out for Willow as the scorpions streamed into the lift. The two witches held up their free hands, palms up, and blew gently onto them - a flame ignited dramatically on each palm.

Buffy was moving fast, throwing off scorpions that had caught onto the edges of her coat. "Whatever you're going to do, guys - do it now!"

Willow pulled her hand out of her pocket, with a handful of yellow powder. She spread it in a wave over the advancing insects, as Tara pulled Buffy, Xander and Giles back into the protection of the circle. Then the two women cast their hand-fires down, in a throwing motion over the powder - it lit up with a satisfying whoosh. The scorpions' chittering echoed in the small space of the lift, but they couldn't advance past the ring of flames.

"Oh, well done." Giles picked a scorpion leg off his shoe and flicked it into the fire.

"Yeah, great job." Xander brushed his shoulders off with a shudder. "But aren't they supposed to get crispy?" He indicated the short wall of fire on the floor keeping the insect army at bay - the fire was holding them back, but not consuming them.

Willow shook her head. "No - it's only for keeping them out, not burning them up." She narrowed her eyes at the surging insects on the other side of the flames. "Wait, I have an idea - Tara, didn't we read something about a scorpion goddess..?"

"Yeah, but I forget the spell."

"Well, I don't." Giles took a short step forward, and seemed to address the black and undulating floor. He held up one hand, and began a guttural intonation.

Buffy whispered to Tara. "What's he saying?"

Tara shook her head. "It's in Arabic."

Willow made an 'oh'. "I remember this now -" She began speaking softly behind Giles, her eyes focussed on the scorpions. "My mother is Isis, my nurse is Nephthys, Neith is behind me and Selket before. Selket, fair one, reclaim your creatures and return them to your breast. Let them seek you out, who have eyes to find you, and guard us from the creatures of the underworld."

As the words of the spell concluded, Giles stepped back from the scorpions and watched carefully. Like a black wave, the creatures seemed to collectively pause - then began a retreat, streaming back through the hole in the brick wall from where they'd first emerged.

"Well - haven't completely lost my touch." Giles looked pleased with himself.

Buffy grinned. "You're the guy, Giles. Ah, Will?"

"Oh, yeah - I guess that's enough fire for now." She gestured towards the flames. "Discadae." The fire wall puffed out with a trail of yellow smoke. And as she did so, the doors of the lift slid closed abruptly, shutting out bricks and scorpions altogether. "Hey! Not my fault, I didn't do that."

Xander directed their attention up to the lift lights. "Well, whatever you didn't do, we're on the move again."

The Scoobies looked at each other with nervous expressions. Buffy took a breath.

"Well - strange lifts, brick walls, scorpions...this Satis gal sure has some tricks up her sleeve."

Giles looked worried. "Buffy, I have a feeling that these may be the least of her 'tricks'. That was too easy, I'm afraid."

The lift moved on.

Vaguely amused, Spike watched the trillion little pinwheels of glare behind his eyelids, and tried very hard to focus his mind.

Something that ole Cleopatra had said...something about the Slayer. Strange allies. That was it. In amongst the 'you'll die, I'll win, nyah, nyah' stuff, was the crucial information - they were coming. The Scoobies - Buffy - was coming. For him.

Well, what a turn-up, eh?

He tried to think logically - no easy task when trying to think at all was such a chore. They may not make it. The priestess was strong, this place had to be heavily fortified, and the odds were against them. A bunch of kids, really, and the old man - even with the Slayer behind them, their chances were less than spectacular. Not that he wasn't grateful. He was - very. He just loathed getting his hopes up and then having to face reality after a tragic defeat. That's it, Spike, think positive... But if there was one thing that he'd learned over the centuries, it was about walking the fine line between being positive and being pragmatic. You had to know when to hold 'em, and when to fold 'em, so to speak.

God, he was quoting country and western songs now - he really was going bonkers.

But somewhere in his brain, he couldn't help but feel...hopeful. Happy, even. They'd remembered him - they were coming for him. Buffy was coming for him. For a brief moment, he let himself revel in his cache of memories of the Slayer - a flash of blonde hair, a fury of whirling limbs, fine-boned hands, a lilting scent. Wisecracks. Warmth. He associated her with strength, and purpose. And other things...he thought of her figure. The smell of her sweat. The spice of hot blood below her skin... Spike tried to wet his lips with his tongue, but his mouth was too dry even for a bit of lascivious spit. Bugger.

She was coming to get him out of here, and he felt profoundly relieved. He just had to hang on until then.

There was a bustle of movement, and he felt the technicians roll up the ankle of his jeans to hook up the vein on his left leg, winced as he felt the sting and draw of the machine, and the crawling horror of the fake heartbeat through his body. Instantly, his mouth went coppery with dehydration. He felt like he was going to go mad if someone didn't relieve this unbearable thirst....

Hang on until they come. Right. He always got the easy job.

Chapter Nine - What's Behind Door Number Three?

"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.

"Whoah!" 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."

Chapter Ten - Open Channels

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.

" - let her voice be the thread of connection, the voice of the Goddess for a friend in need..."

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.

Buffy, can you hear me?

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.

Buffy, it's me.

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.

Chapter Eleven - Half Full, Not Half Empty

"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 focussed." 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."