FF: Fever Chapter six

["Christeen Demons" <Shyfox30@xxxxxxxxxxx>]

k, so this took a little longer than I thought it was gonna, but still it's 
here...enjoy.:-)
shyfox


All the normal disclaimers still apply from the previous chapters...Joss 
still rules the girls...I just play with them...get my drift.:-)



Chapter Six: Dream convergence

And now the hands of time are standing still,
Midnight angel, won't you say you will...

We're running with the shadows of the night.
So baby take my hand, you'll be all right.
Surrender all your dreams to me tonight.
They'll come true in the end.

Pat Benatar

"Tara." Tara jumped when she heard Buffy say her name. She had been lost 
deep inside her own thoughts and hadn't seen the Slayer coming. She looked 
up, her palms sweating, her heart pounding so hard, she thought every one 
else in the semi-crowded waiting room would hear it, as she wondered what 
the Slayer would say. Buffy's eyes were so
cold...stormy, a sea of raging emotions hidden beneath the Slayer's 
forbidding mask. She shuddered to think what would happen when the Slayer 
was finally turned loose, aimed at the people responsible for Willow's 
condition. She couldn't help wondering how Willow was, if she was all 
right. Although she had tried to forget her unrequited love for the 
redhead, she knew a part of her would always love her...even if from afar.
"Buffy." Joyce said, rising from the hard, plastic chair that matched the 
others in the waiting room. "How's Willow?"
"She's...holding her own." Buffy said slowly, the meaning behind her words, 
so evident in her tone. "But...the doctor's not sure how much longer 
she'll..." Buffy throat closed on emotions that seemed determined to cave 
her in. It took her a moment before she could
continue. "He...wants to do a C-section...as soon as possible..." She 
stopped for a second, when she heard the collective wave of gasps and sounds 
of dismay go around the room. She caught her mother's eyes, seeing the 
worry and support deep within them. "but...I convinced him to give me a 
little more time."
"Time? To do what Buffy?" Joyce asked, wondering what her daughter was
thinking...what plan was cooking behind those blue-gray eyes.

Instead of answering her mother, Buffy turned back to Tara, her eyes 
weighing heavily on her. Once she had come up with a plan, she had wanted 
to do it as soon as possible. There wasn't any time to lose. She only hoped 
and prayed that Tara was as good a witch as she thought she was...otherwise, 
this plan would go up in smoke faster than her old high school had. 
"Tara...were you serious when you said you wanted to help?" Buffy asked, 
seriously.
Tara nodded at once. "Ye-yes...please...I'll...I'll do anything." Tara 
said, not knowing quite what she was getting herself into. But as Buffy 
started to explain her plan, she felt her eyes growing wider and wider, not 
sure if she was hearing what she was really hearing.
"So...can you do it? Can it be done?" Buffy asked, when finished, sounding 
breathless, as if she had spent the last of her breath in telling her plan.
"Well...in theory...I-I mean...you are soul mates...so...it should be easy 
to connect you. Well...really...I'd just be using the connection that's 
already there but..." She realized that she was babbling uncontrollably and 
forced herself to stop. "It can be done...but..."
"But what?" Buffy asked, not liking that word right now. If her plan could 
work she wanted to do it now...right now...not tomorrow, not an hour from 
now...now...in fact, yesterday would be even better . "There are no 
buts...if you can do it...then do it."
"B-but it could be dangerous." Tara finished her explanation quietly, 
studying her hands that were twisting in her lap, unable to look up at the 
Slayer.
"To Will?" Buffy asked, not liking that thought.

Tara shook her head slowly, once again meeting the Slayer's eyes. 
"N-no...to you. They...whoever they are...could use that connection the same 
way we are...only...they'll be using it to get to you."
Buffy thought about that for a moment, then shrugged. What did it matter? 
If they were attacking her, then at least Willow would have some 
respite...wouldn't she? Buffy didn't know, but either way...she had to try. 
"I don't care. They should have been messing with
me to begin with...not Will." And maybe...just maybe they'd tip their hand, 
and she'd get a glimpse at who she was fighting. It was something to hope 
for anyway.
Tara nodded, reluctantly. "I'm going to need some things."

Buffy nodded instantly. "Xander...Oz...you're on supply detail. Get 
whatever she needs. I'll set up the room here."
*****

It took some minor convincing, and a few steely glares, but she finally 
convinced the nursing staff to relinquish a spare gurney. Not her idea of 
comfort, but then again, that wasn't really the issue here...and it fit 
quite nicely between Willow's hospital bed and the wall...after she had 
removed some chairs.
Now all she could do is wait for Xander and Oz to get back with the stuff 
Tara had requested. She hated waiting. Hated it with a passion. She was 
action girl...something happened and she reacted. She'd sat by Willow's 
bed, stroking the sweaty hair off of her
forehead, but seeing her wife react to her nightmares tore at her heart. 
She hated feeling so helpless. So, she paced back and forth in the 
admittedly quite cramped now, hospital room, twitching with nervous energy, 
and avoiding the concerned looks being thrown her way from her mother.
She could tell that her mother wanted to object to her plan. Her mother's 
eyes had widened impressively when Tara had started painting a pentagram 
between the two beds. Her mouth had opened and closed a number of times, 
before Joyce had released a worried sigh and sank onto one of the few 
remaining chairs, watching the preparation in silence.
Buffy had raised an eyebrow herself at the sight, knowing how odd the setup 
would look if a nurse just happened to breeze in. She wondered if she 
should have thought to ask Dr. Wiseberg to keep all medical staff away from 
the room, but then, that would have caused more curiosity than she wanted. 
She supposed she'd just have to post Xander as a guard outside the door.
Giles had disappeared shortly after she'd proposed her plan. He hadn't 
given any indication of what he thought of it, or of where he was going, but 
she could tell that he had been worried when he left. She hoped he was busy 
researching. Even if this plan worked, she knew she'd still have to face the 
witches in person, and she wanted to know what her options would be when she 
did.
"Hey Tara...those were some pretty expensive magic supplies you had us get." 
Xander complained when he walked into the room, breaking Buffy out of her 
anxious pacing.
"P-Powerful magic c-cost's alot" Tara said, shrugging apologetically as she 
took the supplies from Xander.
"It took you guys long enough." Buffy complained, hands on hips, glaring 
impatiently at the Scoob.
"Hey, Buff. The Magic Box is all the way across town." Xander defended. 
"We went as fast as we could...honest." Buffy felt a stab of guilt at the 
injured look in Xander's eyes. She knew she was being ungrateful, but she 
couldn't seem to help herself.
"I know." She said, quietly, not quite able to meet his eyes. "Sorry 
Xand."
"It's all right, Buffy." Xander said, placing a calming hand on Buffy's 
shoulder. He could feel the tension in her almost instantly, and nearly 
jerked his hand away, half afraid that in her present state she'd toss him 
across the room, but as they stared into each other's eyes, both seeing the 
worry and fear for Willow reflected there, some of the tension in her body 
eased. "She'll be all right, Buffy. Tara's going to do the mojo magic, and 
you're going to go in and save Will. It's a great plan. It won't fail." 
Xander said, convincingly, squeezing Buffy's shoulder for emphasis.
Buffy wasn't as confident in her own plan as Xander appeared, but she 
appreciated his effort. She nodded at him, letting a little bit of a smile 
show, before she turned her attention to what Tara was doing. She watched 
as the blonde witch set up five white candles, placing one on each point of 
the pentagram. Tara then started mixing the dried
powders and herbs she had obtained into a silver bowl. Buffy didn't know 
what she was doing...she just hoped it worked.
"O-okay." Tara said, finally, apparently finished playing around with the 
herbs. "I'm done. Y-you might want to lay down. This will affect you pretty 
fast...if it works at all."
Buffy glared at the witch's last statement, causing the shy blonde to blush. 
"W-when it works." Tara corrected herself quickly.
"Xander. Guard the door...don't let anyone in." Buffy said, before she 
went and lay down on the gurney, her face a blank of steely resolve. Until 
she looked at Willow, then her expression softened. "Hang on,Will." She 
said, capturing the redhead's face in her mind's vision. "I'm coming." 
Next thing she knew, she was gone.
*****

The echo of her high heels seemed to add to the sterilized air of the 
hospital hallway. The sound, clean, clear, precise and clinical. She came 
every Saturday and Wednesday. Her wife never came, it wasn't that Buffy 
didn't care, she just didn't like to be reminded. They had done the best 
they could, the both of them but..it just hadn't been enough. The pressure 
of being this generation's Vampire Slayer, not to mention the added power 
and responsibility of being a natural born witch had been too much for their 
daughter.
She tapped on the glass door lined with steel wires and waved to the 
security guard on the other side. He smiled in greeting to her, genuinely 
friendly. She thought his name was..Thomas something. After coming here for 
so many years she really should have known the staff's names by now. She 
supposed that, unconsciously, she didn't want to
become too familiar with this place...that not learning their names was her 
only way of distancing herself. She didn't allow herself to examine those 
thoughts too closely though. The door buzzed as the security lock disengaged 
and she stepped through.
A polite hello to 'Thomas' and then it was just her, the hallway and the dry 
echo of her foot steps. She knew where the room was by heart but she 
couldn't help counting the numbered doors. 
"Thirty-eight...thirty-nine...forty." She stopped outside the door to room 
forty. She glanced through the window at the figure within.
The girl was dressed in plain white pajamas and a straightjacket. Her long 
red hair hung dirty and unkempt. Oily strands glued to her forehead by their 
own filth. The ever-present dark circles under her eyes accenting the narrow 
glare of something more animal than human.
'The straightjacket is new', Willow mused. 'She must have been bad since my 
last visit.' Pushing the button beside the door she spoke into the 
microphone. Willow Rosenberg-Summers talked to her daughter.
"Honey? Mommy's here."

*****

Buffy didn't know where she was at first..the surroundings unquestioningly 
unfamiliar. And yet...at the same time...she was having the strangest 
feeling of deja' vu. The decor was different, this wasn't the psych hospital 
in which she had been trapped in L.A. and yet,
she knew it was a psych ward in which she was walking through. The steel 
bars on all of the windows was a dead give away...that and the people in 
starchy white uniforms that floated down the halls like wraiths. They'd 
look at her, perplexed expressions on their
faces, as if a part of Willow's psyche knew that she was an unknown
phenomenon...something that didn't belong. But they didn't approach her, 
for the most part going about their business...leaving her alone.
She didn't know why she was here. She had taken the knowledge that she was 
entering Willow's dream with her, and yet, here in this unfamiliar place, 
Willow was nowhere in sight. She had thought it would be easy to meet with 
her soulmate. She thought that she would just appear in front of her, 
explain why she was there, attract attention to herself
from those presences she was trying so hard to track down. She wasn't 
counting on having to walk through a myriad of maze-like halls searching for 
her wife.
The corridor she was walking down suddenly ended, leaving her standing, 
staring at a closed steel door. 'Well genius. What do you do now?' Buffy 
asked herself crankily, staring moodily at the locked door. It took her a 
while to notice a guard standing behind a counter through the plexi-glassed 
window in the door.
"Mrs. Rosenberg-Summers, I wasn't expecting you tonight." The guard 
greeted her jovially, startling Buffy completely. "Your wife has already 
gone on through. Funny she didn't mention you were coming." The guard said, 
his eyes looking over her in question, before he opened the door for her.
Buffy blinked at the man, not quite knowing what to say. 'He knows my name?' 
Buffy thought, incredulously. 'Will's subconscious must be working 
overtime to explain my presence.'
Buffy looked down the hall, seeing a long line of doors stretched before 
her. She looked back at the guard, an eyebrow raised in question.
"Room forty." The guard answered, as if he knew what she was going to ask 
him. Nodding blankly, she walked on with a determined step, her eyes 
tracking the numbers above the doors.
*****

Buffy followed the line of doors, counting the numbers off silently in her 
head. She had reached door thirty before she heard the slight murmuring 
sound coming from the corridor up ahead. The voice sent tingles all the way 
up and down her spine. It had been three, or
was it four...she had lost count of the long, weary, seemingly never-ending 
days since she had last heard her wife speak and she realized with sudden, 
blinding clarity that she had missed it...desperately.
Her steps slowed as she let the voice wash over her, hearing the same warm 
and loving tones as she had heard that night, remembering how that voice had 
tickled her ear as they had laid there in the aftermath of their love, 
communicating small wonders and joys before sleep came to claim them. She 
had no way of knowing that hell would come to claim them
as they slept.

The voice became more distinctive as she came closer, becoming more 
intelligible, until soon she could make out what the woman was saying. Now, 
she she could even see the form from which the voice came, standing still in 
the dimly lighted corridor, speaking to the occupant behind one of the 
doors. Buffy stopped, letting the shock overtake her.
Even from the side, the only part Buffy could see, the woman didn't look 
much like Willow, at least not like the Willow that she knew, age, had done 
nasty things to her wife, leaving the once straight back and shoulders 
almost slumped. The red hair was beginning to whiten on top and her hands 
were shaky and frail as they rested on the steel door. If it wasn't for the 
voice, Buffy didn't think she'd have ever recognized her...even if it did 
sound older and less vibrant than she remembered hearing.
Glancing up for a second, she could see the numbers above the door. Room 
40. Just as the guard had said.
"I'm sorry Buffy couldn't make it...she wanted to but...you know...she's 
just so busy...all the time." The voice finished in a whisper.
Buffy was so lost in examining her wife's form that she missed what Willow 
had been saying at first. 'Huh?' It took her brain several seconds to 
decode what her ears had been hearing. 'What?' She didn't think she liked 
the sound of that. 'I'm too busy to notice that
Will looks and sounds like 'Night of the living dead'? What's up with 
that?' She wondered angrily, cursing herself before she remembered that 
this wasn't real...it was just a dream. It certainly felt real though. 'No 
wonder Will's having such a rough time.'
"I brought you a little treat. Maybe they'll let you have it when you get 
better." Willow said, forcing the melancholy out of her voice. Buffy's 
inate curiosity got the better of her and she crept closer, wanting to get a 
better look at who was behind the door.
It was hard to see past Willow's shoulder, considering even slumped Willow 
was still taller than her. It was even harder to see through the steel mesh 
into the little padded room. But for some reason, she could clearly make 
out the girl that was sitting crouched in the corner, wearing a 
straightjacket. Her features were clearly outlined. From the dirty, oily 
red hair, hanging in her face to the blue/green eyes that swept the room, 
the glow of insanity shining from within.
"No." Buffy gasped, as she met her daughter's eyes, staring deep into the 
heart of madness. Her teeth clenched as a sudden rage overtook her. 'You 
bitches leave my daughter alone!' She could have sworn she heard an evil 
cackle, but then her attention was forced away to a white faced Willow, 
leaning unsteadily against the door and looking at her as if she'd seen a 
ghost.
*****

"Will?" She heard the voice question her, she knew it was Buffy's and 
yet...that was impossible, wasn't it? Buffy never came with her. Buffy had 
shut her out a long time ago, too busy with work and organizing the new 
council to pay attention to such little things as
an insane child and a neurotic wife. And this one...this Buffy didn't look 
like she'd aged a day in seventeen years.
"Willow?" Buffy asked again, stepping closer, her voice shaky, as if she 
was the one who was lost and looking for answers instead of the other way 
around. Willow held up a hand, but whether it was to fend off Buffy's 
advance or to get her to stop talking she wasn't sure.
"Wh-what are you doing here?" Willow questioned the apparition, uneasily. 
"Yo-you never come here." She stated, almost accusingly.
"I...I came for you, Will. I always come for you, remember?" Buffy asked, 
uncertainly, feeling Willow's anger, guessing at the cause. She took 
another step forward, stopping only when she saw Willow was trying to burrow 
herself through the steel door. 'Okay...slow and easy.' Buffy coached 
herself, remaining where she was. 'She's been
through a lot...she probably doesn't know what to think right now.'

"Yo-you don't...you haven't." Willow shook her head, her voice a whisper.

Buffy once again cursed the witches and their spell. It wasn't bad enough 
that they were making Willow's dreamscape a land of nightmarish 
possibilities, but now it appeared they were having great fun in turning 
them against each other. "You remember when Angelus
came to the school and was going to hold you hostage?" Buffy asked, hoping 
to evoke real memories of when she had come to Willow's rescue. "Or what 
about the time I traded the Mayor the box of Gavrock for you." She inched a 
step closer, relieved when Willow didn't try to back away. Doubt and 
confusion was evident in her eyes, yet she didn't move.
"Remember when Faith kidnapped you?" Buffy asked, cringing as she saw the 
bad memories spring into Willow's eyes. She stepped closer once more until 
she was so close she could see Willow's nostrils flaring. It was so 
strange. She looked so different, and yet, it was the same Willow. The 
same Willow that she had become friends with, and fell
in love with, and married. She raised a hand, curious to see whether or not 
she'd be able to feel her in her dream. She closed her eyes, tears stinging 
them, when she felt the soft cheek beneath her fingers. "I came then, Will. 
And I'm here now...even if I am a little
late. I'm here."

Buffy thought she was reaching her, could have sworn she saw a softening in 
those misty green eyes. She was completely blindsided by the slap that 
seemed to come out of nowhere. She blinked, shock rendering her speechless, 
as her hand massaged the hot ache
Willow's hand had left behind.

"Don't, Buffy. You stopped coming to my rescue a long time ago." Willow's 
voice was sharp...harsh and it sent shards of ice scattering through Buffy's 
heart, hurting her more than the slap had. The litany that this was just a 
dream held no comfort, as she saw the depths of pain Willow was drowning in. 
"So don't try to..." Her throat closed tight on the words she really wanted 
to say, too hurt and tired to argue the point anymore. "Just don't, Buffy. 
I'm not listening anymore."
Buffy didn't know what to say. For the first time since she had met the 
redhead her sophmore year, she really didn't know what to say to her. Sure, 
they'd had fights in the past. Fights where neither wanted to admit the 
other was right, or that each had valid points. And then there were the 
times when the pressures of the hellmouth had gotten to
be too much and they just exploded at each other. But that was different. 
Deep down they'd always known that somewhere inside the other was still 
listening...still caring...still feeling. They always knew, that when the 
current crises was over, they'd still be there for
each other.

This was different. Whatever reality Willow was facing in this dream had 
nearly sucked the very life right out of her.
'This is all my fault. I can't reach her and it's all my fault. I should 
have gotten here sooner.' She felt the weight of her guilt from the past 
few days catching up with her. Felt the added weight from Willow's accusing 
stare for crimes she hadn't even really committed...but here in this place, 
they felt like they were real. So awfully real. And she gladly took the 
blame for each and every one. "I'm sorry." Buffy's voice was small, her 
throat tight. "Will...I'm so sorry. I didn't know...how to...I tried so 
hard...I wanted to...but...I didn't know...what was going on...and I.."
"How?" Willow asked, her forehead furrowing in confusion. "How could you 
not know, Buffy? I've been coming here twice a week for the last two 
years!"
'This spell is so strong!' Buffy thought in frustration. 'How do I break 
through that to make her see?' Buffy asked herself, her fury at the witches 
growing with her frustration at not being able to communicate with her wife. 
She grabbed her by the shoulders and shook
her, not hard, just hard enough to jostle her a little...to gain her 
attention. "Willow! Look at me!"
Willow did look at her wife, wondering if she'd just gone insane. 
"Buffy...stop it."
"No! Not until you listen to me! Not until you hear what I came here to 
say!" Buffy stopped, breathing heavy.
Willow's eyes turned stony, as she stared at her hard. "Go ahead then. Say 
what you've got to say, then leave. I don't think either of us want you 
here." Willow said, crossing her arms over her chest.
That hurt, more than anything that had come before but she wasn't about to 
give up. "Willow, look...I know that this is hurting you...I know you've 
been through a lot. And I'm sorry for that. If I could find a way to stop 
it I would...and I will...you just have to give me time. But you have to 
realize...that this isn't real. None of this is real."
Willow shook her head slowly. "Are you insane? You are...aren't you? All 
those years on the hellmouth have finally made you go bonkers. You should 
be locked up in here with our daughter...seperate rooms, of course."
Buffy sighed in frustration, then shook her head. "No...Willow look at me. 
Really look." She said, grabbing hold of Willow's chin and keeping her head 
in place. "Do I look like I'm old enough to have a teenage daughter?!" 
Buffy gestured wildly at the steel door.
The words made Willow stop and actually think. Because those words were the 
only thing that had actually made sense...in a strange, bizarre kind of way. 
Buffy did look like she hadn't aged a day since...well...since before 
their daughter was born. "I...I don't get it."
"You're dreaming, Will. This is just one big, mixed-up, crazy, psychotic 
dream." Buffy said, in one large breath. "The last time I looked at you, 
you were seven months pregnant and comatose. I'm inside your dream."
Buffy could see the doubt swirling in Willow's eyes, but she could also see 
something else. Trust. A minor glimpse really, but it was enough. "I 
don't...I don't understand. How Buffy?"
Buffy smiled, relieved that she was finally seeing a glimmer of her Willow 
in those green eyes. She traced a nearby cheek again, slowly, reveling in 
the softness of it. "This dream is really strange...I didn't think I'd be 
able to feel anything in here." Buffy murmured,
getting sidetracked.

Willow raised a russet brow at her. "Buffy..." Willow murmured, knowing 
her wife was getting distracted, in a pleasant way...but still...she needed 
answers.
"Sorry." Buffy grinned, not in the least bit repentant. "Long story 
short?" Willow nodded. "We live on top of the hellmouth." Buffy responded 
cheekily, drawing a narrowed eyed look from her wife.
"Buf--"

"Okay...okay..." Buffy said, drawing the redhead into her arms, not just 
because she wanted to be close to her, but because it was easier to whisper 
in her ear this way. She felt a slight resistance to her pulling, but was 
gratified when the resistance melted away. "I'm
not sure how much I can tell you without giving too much away to people I 
don't want knowing about it...I think they're watching you, Will."
"Who?" Willow asked, pulling slightly away from her, looking at her as if 
she thought she might be crazy after all.
"The witches." Buffy mouthed, silently, before pulling her into another 
hug. "They cast a spell on you, Will. One that made you really sick. 
You're in the hospital with a fever so high the doctors...well...what do 
doctors know?" Buffy was whispering so lightly Willow could barely hear 
her, and yet she could feel the worry and anxiety practically radiating off 
of her spouse.
"And the dreams?" Willow questioned, not really sure that she wanted to 
know anymore.
"Well, I think the dreams are what's really k-" Buffy stopped, swallowing 
convulsively. "I mean, they're what's really making you so sick."
"This is really bad, isn't it?" Willow asked, meeting Buffy's eyes with her 
own, and for the first time Buffy saw Willow, all of Willow shining through 
at her.
"Yeah. It kinda is." Buffy answered, swallowing hard. "But don't 
worry...I'm gonna get you out of this."
"How?" Willow asked, then quickly kept talking before Buffy could get a 
word in edgewise. "No- not that I'm doubting you or anything...but 
really...how? I mean...you're not a practicing witch or anything so..."
Buffy grinned softly. 'Yeah, that's the Willow I remember.' She thought, 
losing herself in the quiet babble. "Well...the plan was for me to attract 
attention to myself. If they are watching, they must have noticed my 
presence by now."
"Okay...well...then what?" Willow asked, her brow crinkling. Buffy still 
thought the gesture was cute.
"I figured I'd figure that part out when I got to it, Will." Buffy admitted, 
quietly, knowing Willow wasn't going to like it one bit.
"But...Buffy..." Willow started to protest, and Buffy wrapped her arms 
stronger around Willow's back.
"It will be okay, Will. I promise. I'm going to get you out of this." She 
said, kissing her wife gently, she felt their bodies press closer together, 
and for some strange reason she snorted, breaking the kiss as a gentle 
chuckle erupted from her.
"I'm sorry...I'm sorry." Buffy defended, when she saw the hurt look on 
Willow's face. "It's just, I'm used to being poked in the gut when we do 
that. I kinda miss the baby being down there."
Willow smiled mistily at the sentimentality in Buffy's voice and moved in 
for another kiss, that was, until she was jostled violently from behind. 
Buffy and Willow's heads turned as one to see their redheaded offspring 
hurling herself bodily against the door.
"the eyes...the eyes...the eyes..." They heard her mutter over and over 
again, while she continued to throw herself hard against the steel door. 
"the Eyes...The Eyes...The Eyes..." Every time she said it, she said it 
louder and louder until pretty soon it was all they could
hear, even covering the loud thud she made as she rammed herself at the 
door. "The Eyes...THE EYES...THE EYES..." Buffy stared at her...not 
knowing quite what to think, or what could have possibly set her off, until 
she noticed where her daughter was staring and looked up toward the ceiling 
of the corridor. Staring down at her were a pair of the
oldest eyes she'd thought she'd ever seen. They met hers with an ancient, 
wicked wisdom and she lost herself in the swirling flecks of gold and green 
within feeling herself being engulfed, if not figuritively, then 
metaphorically in the glare until all she could see was the black of the 
pupils...and then...once again...Buffy was gone.
...to be continued.


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