A/N: Hi guys!

It's been months, so I tried to make this chapter really worthwhile. I didn't get to reply to all of the reviews last time so THANK YOU for all of the encouragement and feedback. \O/

I hack out a story every week on my LJ so check my profile for the comm link if you are interested in that, or just as a way to harass me to write more chapters. Summer is coming, and I hope it will give me more energy and inspiration to kick up the notch on this story and get it done.

It was the screaming that woke him up. Some ghastly screeching, sharp and overwhelming in his head. His hands flew to end it, cracking all of the spindly bodies, mutated creatures tearing at him. The broken shells became broken bones, and he tried to still himself but it was too late. They were all broken now, some pitiful whimpering in the distance, and hot blood cooling on his face.

"Spike?" Buffy whispered, sitting up beside him, cautious as the man trembled. She caught her slip too late, slowly sucking in her bottom lip and biting at it nervously, hoping he was still too shaken from his dream to notice or understand. "Galen? You're awake. You're safe."

"I'm bleeding," he said, a tremor evident in his voice.

Buffy frowned, looking over his bruised and scabbed body for a second before she watched him touch the hotness on his face, fingers shaking.

"No," she said softly, reaching out to wipe away his tears. "You're fine."

"I hurt someone."

"Angel's okay," Buffy assured him. "He was more worried about you."

"He shouldn't worry about me," Galen said, his entire body aching with every slight breath. He put a hand to his head, trying to will away the images at the back of his head. "I think there's something wrong with me."

"That's why we worry," Buffy stated cautiously.

"What if… I'm bad?" Galen questioned. A gargantuan moment of silence dragged out, where Buffy was unsure of what to say. "What if whoever I am, or was, it's just bad?"

"It doesn't matter," Buffy said. "Because that isn't who you are now."

What if it is? Galen wanted to say, but was too afraid. What if I don't want to change it? But he wasn't entirely sure that he didn't, and either way, the words wouldn't come out.

Buffy leaned forward and pressed a kiss against his forehead. When she pulled away, his eyes were clamped shut, jaw tight and muscles twitching.

"Lay down," she told him, stroking his hair. "You already look like a black-and-blueberry."

She waited for him to lie down, and slipped out of the bed with the promise to bring back some food. She quietly left the room, knowing he wouldn't sleep easily, but hoping that her presence would calm him at least. It was when she came downstairs and saw the expressions on her friends' faces that she knew something had happened.

"What? What is it?"

Cordelia lowered her eyes for a moment. "Willow's in the hospital."

"What happened?" Buffy questioned, her face turning white with worry.

"We're not sure," Cordelia admitted. "But we didn't want to leave, you know, without you. I know Willow's your best friend, and you'd want to be there."

"Is it… bad?" Buffy asked, unsure of what to think. Images of her mother's death plagued her. It was something she never wanted to go through again.

"We're not sure," Cordelia repeated, wishing she could be more helpful.

"And they took her to that hospital?"

"A different one," Angel told her. "It would be too risky to go back to Good Samaritan right now."

Buffy was quiet, withdrawing somewhat from the reality of the situation. "I have to get Galen some food. I told him… I would be right back. He'll be waiting."

"I can get him something," Angel objected, lightly catching her arm as she moved past him.

"No," Buffy pulled herself out of his grasp. She took a breath, tears faintly stinging her eyes. "I said I would be right back. And… he's waiting."

Galen lay his head against the bed, staring hard at where he knew the door was. All he could see were bluish shadows, and the longer he stared, the less confident he was that those were even real. The sometimes blended together as his eyes tired, but remained the same when he focused again. The images of blood and decayed remains were figments of his imagination only, too vivid to ever be real, but they kept him from falling asleep.

He was rapidly learning that at least half of what he thought he knew, or saw, was nothing but his own imagination. It made him wonder if he spent half of his life sleeping, then, and had only just woken up. Or maybe this was just an interlude to some sort of living hell. Either way, it surprised him that in all of the stillness, the shadows refused to speak to him. Something had scared all of the nightmares away.

The door to his room opened with a click. He fancied he saw her move through his line of sight, but it was nothing but a subtle shift of blackness.

"You're not Buffy," Galen stated, without so much as a twitch. He listened while his visitor remained motionless.

"You're right," Sarah said, smiling slowly. "How did you know that?"

"This… being blind stuff eventually grows on you," he said.

"So can you hear a hummingbird from fifty yards away?" Sarah asks, creeping closer to the bed. "Catch a whiff of a lady's perfume when she's a block ahead of you?"

"I'm blind, and still getting used to it, not a super hero," Galen answered dully. She breathed a soft laugh and ran a hand through his hair, causing him to sit up and move away from her.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't know you, and you're in my room," Galen answered, his voice tense with all of other unmentioned reasons why she was making him uncomfortable.

"You don't know me?" Sarah echoed with confusion, her mouth turning into a little smile. "I remember you, though. From the hospital. We talked about… suicide. Pills and razorblades. Things you swallow down." Sarah judged his reaction to the words, his rapt attention telling her that she was spot on. "You took my hand," she reached out and found his, letting him wrap his fingers around her wrist. "You told me you'd never forgive me if I killed myself. You told me not to hurt myself. Well, I've slipped up. I can't deny that. But you're looking more than a little fucked as well."

"Sarah," Galen whispered, sliding his fingers over the scars on her wrists again and again.

"Yes," she smiled eagerly, a laugh subdued as she met in a hug. "I found you," she said, gently tracing a spatter of bruises that led from his shoulder to the middle of his back. His breath was quiet against her ear, and she felt him nuzzle against her neck in perfect trust.

The slayer stood in the doorway, watching the two. She didn't know whether to be more distraught by the fact that Galen was only separated from Sarah by a modest bed sheet, or that two minutes ago she could have been under that sheet with him.

Sarah barely detected the shift in the atmosphere before Galen lifted his head.

"Buffy?"

"Yeah," Buffy responded, letting Sarah get a good look at her before she entered the room. "I brought you something to eat, and some clothes."

"Thank you," he said, but his words seemed oddly displaced. Sarah still had her arms around him. "This is… this is Sarah." He didn't say anymore, throat tightening just to get that much out.

"I know," Buffy said, glaring at Sarah as she spoke. "I met her."

"I knew her," Galen said quietly.

Sarah ran her fingers over his back. "I'm right here."

"I brought you some cereal," Buffy told him. "I hope you like… Cap'n Crunch… that's what was on the shelf."

"It's not as good as pudding, but maybe it'll do," Sarah said, taking the bowl from Buffy's hands.

Buffy gave Sarah a burning look and moved the girl slightly to the side. The slayer leant down enough to grasp the back of Galen's head and press a kiss against his lips. She broke away after a few seconds, her lips trembling until she could speak calmly again. "I have to go, Spike, but I'll be back soon."

"Okay," he answered, but it might as well have been a breath.

"Don't worry," Sarah said as Buffy headed towards the door. "I'll take good care of him."

"Make it quick, 'cause when I get back I need to bleach the sheets," Buffy growled under her breath.

The hospital room was deathly silent when Buffy found it, so much so that she wondered if there was even anyone inside. When she entered, however, she saw some of her friends, all reverently gathered around Willow's bedside.

The redhead was deathly pale, her lips chapped and colorless. Her deathlike sleep reminded her of Galen's eerie slumber.

"You came," Dawn said, lifting her head when she noticed her sister. She wiped her reddish eyes, but they were already dry. "Cordelia said you decided to stay."

Buffy glanced around the room. "Uh… I changed my mind. Sarah was telling the truth, apparently. I went back to his room and they were getting all chummy with each other. Did Cordelia already leave?"

"Just for a soda," Xander explained quietly, his voice somewhat hoarse. "We didn't want to freak the nurses out by crowding Willow's room."

"How is she?" Buffy asked, looking at her friend.

"She's in a coma," Kennedy said, a little too harshly. She softened quickly, lowering her eyes and stroking Willow's hand. "Nobody knows why."

"Does Giles know?" Buffy asked, keeping her voice low.

Xander nodded. "He came by earlier."

"This has to be mystical," Buffy said. "We need to get Wesley and Giles working on this, doing whatever they can to bring her back."

"She's done so many spells, it could be anything," Kennedy pointed out angrily.

"And we'll find it," Buffy stated.

"With another spell," Kennedy said, standing up. "You demanded her to use magic. Powerful magic to break even stronger magic that was designed to do god-knows-what. She was addicted to the stuff before. It's destroying her, and it's all you can think of."

"It's all that we have," Buffy said, her voice shaking slightly.

"I'm not letting you cast anything on her," Kennedy said. "If you even try to pull rank, I will take you down myself."

"You want her to die?!" Buffy demanded to know.

"She's not going to die," Dawn asserted, a small sob escaping her.

Buffy shook her head quickly. "No, she's not. I won't let that happen."

Kennedy set her jaw, staring Buffy down. "Find another way."

The slayers held each other's gaze for a long time before Buffy broke away. She looked at Willow and then Xander, but couldn't find any words. Buffy quietly turned away and walked out of the room.

Xander could hear Buffy's footsteps fade away down the hall. The room was silent again, except for the beeping of machines. "Kennedy," he said, waiting for the slayer to look him in the face. "I know you love Willow, but she's my best friend. I love her more than anything in the world. And if there is any way to make her better – any way at all – nothing is going to stop me. Not even you. I just think you should know that."

"I hope you know, there aren't any more treats," Rachel told Vancouver, stroking the dog's side. The German Shepherd was lying beside her on the couch, head curled up against her thigh. "No more yogurt, either. Eamon needs to make a shopping trip."

The dog nudged against her leg, stretched out and then relaxed again with a sigh.

The lock on the door jiggled and then opened. Eamon came inside, shutting the door behind him, and set his keys on the kitchen table. He poured himself a glass of orange juice and went into the living room, watching Rachel with the dog.

"You're spoiling him," Eamon told her. "Service dogs aren't supposed to be allowed on furniture. Or given vodka," he added. "Or bathed with Old Spice."

"He misses Galen," Rachel said, slowly running her hand over Couver's head and down his back. "No matter what I do, he's depressed."

Eamon was quiet for a moment. "Of course he misses Galen. They were meant for each other. And Galen was taken away. He knows there was something wrong about that."

Rachel tapped Vancouver's nose lightly. "Dogs can sense that. They hate Nazis, even German Shepherds. At least with Couv around, we'll know when they're coming. Werewolves, too."

"I thought you liked werewolves."

Rachel frowned slightly, her eyes distant. "They're too rough. I don't care for that very much."

"Right." Eamon just held his peace, and took a long swig of his juice.

"You need to go to the store," Rachel told Eamon. "We're out of yogurt again. And ice cream. And dog treats."

"I'll pick it up at the end of the week," Eamon told her. "Until then, you'll just have to do without."

Rachel was silent for a beat. "I need tampons. Or a swimming pool."

"Jesus Christ," Eamon swore. "What are you using now?"

"I'm going to use your toothbrush if you don't get me some tampons," Rachel said, not answering his question.

"Why can't you get your own?" Eamon questioned. "It's not like I have a clue what to get."

"How fucking hard can it be? Just pick up something extra absorbent."

"Have you got cash?"

"No," Rachel said, "but you could always go to one of your girlfriends' house and filch some out of her bathroom."

"Great, except I left 80% of the women I've dated for men," Eamon snorted.

Rachel smiled sweetly. "Then if they catch you, you can just tell them you enjoy the filling sensation."

"Now I remember what drove me to drinking," Eamon muttered. "I'll get you your damn tampons, so long as you don't bleed all over my couch."

"I'm totally safe," Rachel assured him. "And pick up some chocolate while you're out, and yogurt, and treats for the dog. We need some comfort food."

"The dog is gonna get fat," Eamon remarked.

"At least he's eating now," Rachel reminded him. "I thought he was going to starve."

"That dog's never going to be happy again," Eamon said quietly. "Because I miss him, too. More than I'd like."

"You should find him," Rachel suggested.

"I've tried."

"You should find him, because we never really settled who gets to have him," Rachel continued.

"I told you, I've tried," Eamon repeated. "He's gone, Rach. Illegal government drug trials, Nazis brain washing, alien abduction, whatever you want to imagine. The bottom line is, he isn't coming back."

"You said those people were supposed to keep him safe," Rachel said.

"And he wasn't there," Eamon repeated.

"You said the man told you he would find Galen," Rachel persisted.

"They're crazy," Eamon told her. "Crazier than you. They have all of these weapons laying around. Axes and swords. And Galen was actually speaking to those people. He trusted them, and they're completely useless." He took a breath and sighed, shaking his head. "There's nothing left to do."

"Eamon," Rachel said softly, leaning towards the Irishman. "Nobody's crazier than me."

"This has to be mystical," Buffy said. "We need to get Wesley and Giles working on this, doing whatever they can to bring her back."

"She's done so many spells, it could be anything," Kennedy countered, anger evident in her voice.

Willow took a breath, but the last of an actual breath was incredibly unnerving. She wanted to find someway to let Buffy know that she was right, but she wasn't even sure either way. It had to be mystical, there was no alternative. Because if it wasn't mystical… she didn't want to consider that possibility.

She felt dizzy as her friends argued around her. Every emotion had the effect of a tidal wave ripping through her. When Buffy finally voiced the possibility of death, Willow felt like she was being ripped apart from the emotional backlash.

The torrent of emotions quieted just as quickly, as if her friends knew that the thoughts would also tear them apart. She still felt sick, every molecule of her being rebelling, if she even had molecules. As far as she could tell, it was an astral state of being. An out of body experience. There was no touch, no physical feeling, and her friends could not hear or see her.

When Buffy left the room, she quickly turned and followed, trying to keep up with the blonde. She called out, but Buffy didn't react in the slightest, and the redhead stopped bothering to pursue her friend. She had to trust that Buffy would figure out someway to fix this. Willow returned to the room, and heard Xander speak.

"-I love her more than anything in the world. And if there is any way to make her better – any way at all – nothing is going to stop me. Not even you. I just think you should know that."

"Xan," Willow murmured. She stepped towards her friend and held her hand just a hairsbreadth above his shoulder, pretending that she could touch him. "She just cares about me." He shifted, and her hand passed through him. She quickly pulled it back, still disturbed by the sight of her intangibility.

Kennedy spoke, but she words faded away into muted silence, lips still moving. Xander's lips moved in reply, and then Dawn's, but still no sound emerged.

"What's going on?" Willow asked quietly, her voice shaking. She was relieved to know that she was not somehow going deaf, but was acutely aware of the room darkening around the edges until it was partially black with shadows. "Am I… dying?" The idea went through her like a rush of ice-cold water. If some robed figure with a sickle popped out, she was fairly sure that she'd start biting and scratching if she had to.

Then again, that probably wouldn't have any effect on Death. She took a step backwards, away from the shadows and turned to run into the fluorescent hallway, but stopped short, panic high in her chest. The hallway was gone, replaced by an expanse of darkness. She spun around and her friends were gone, leaving just vague remnants of the room and the bed were her body lay. There was a figure crouched by her side, as if paying respects, but the pure darkness that comprised it gave her chills. It stood up, and Willow had the sudden crazy idea that Death had actually appeared to take her soul.

It looked at her, blank eyes inexplicably filled with regret, and sat down on the side of her bed. Willow did not know how she missed it before, but some things just didn't let themselves be seen until it was time.

"You," Willow said to Spike, a sad statement and simple accusation all rolled into one. She let a silent moment pass, washing away any useless hatred. "Am I going to die?"

"Maybe," he answered.

Willow waited for a second, bemused and unwilling to believe that he would leave it at that. When she realized that he wasn't going to add anything more, a horrible feeling of desolation grabbed at her. "At least you're honest," Willow managed to say, her voice trying to leave her.

The blank white eyes stared at her, and Willow knew that he was able to see everything about her in this strange, shapeless space. "You want me to apologize," he said. Willow didn't respond. "Because I damned you to share my fate."

"I set you free," Willow replied, knowing that it was a waste of time to try to blame a ghost for anything. "Kennedy was right. I didn't even know what I was dealing with."

"I won't offer you any closure," he continued, ignoring her. "My actions were just."

"No," Willow had to glare at him for that. "They weren't."

He tilted his head, looking directly into her eyes. "They were necessary."

"I don't believe that," Willow shook her head, turning away for a moment. Those dead eyes unnerved her, but the gaping blackness scared her even more, and she quickly looked back at what still remained, focusing on her bed. She couldn't recognize herself anymore.

"Actions, consequences," Spike said, standing up. He moved around her, hovering, blending into the shadows, on the verge of reality and nothingness. "Actions and consequences, Witch. Inconsecutive, meaningless."

"Like your words," Willow retorted.

"Everything is intangible," he informed her, unfeeling. "Meaning. Reality. Open your guts. You already knew. You just forgot."

"Already knew what?"

"You'd end up here."

It took Willow only a second to recognize her old room in Buffy's house. All of the living colors were washed out, and the space was devoid of any comfort, left cold and foreboding.

She turned around and was met with light. Translucent white curtains hung like a veil over the shattered window. Her heart leapt up into her throat and she looked down at dark stains of blood on the carpet. Willow backed away from the area, nearly tripping over her own feet.

"Why did you bring me here?!" Willow cried out. Her body shook, but somehow it was physically impossible for her to shed tears.

"I didn't," Spike said, looking down at the floor, where black shapes began to writhe. His eyes lifted towards the corner of the room, as if he could see something she didn't. "I don't dream."

"This isn't a dream," Willow shuddered, wrought with horror. "Please take it away. Tell me how to take it away."

"Follow me."

"What do they think of you?" Sarah questioned, carefully running a washcloth over Galen's blood-spotted skin, washing it clean.

"What do you mean?" Galen mumbled, not particularly wanting the subject to be brought up.

The washcloth moved over his shoulder, then Sarah soaked it into the sink again and wrung it out. She had drawn warm water into the sink, which was now pink. "Don't tell me you're not curious," she said softly. "Do you know?"

Galen shook his head slowly, curling into himself slightly. "I don't want to think about it. If I do, I just get sick to my stomach. They're so nice to me, and… I… I don't know why."

"They feel bad for you," Sarah murmured, letting a cynical tone come into her voice. "They're all so perfect and normal, and they don't understand people like you or me. They just want to help us, take pity on us. We're sick, you know."

"I think Buffy's in love with me," Galen said slowly, mostly to himself. He knew that she was compassionate towards him for whatever reasons, but this was the first time it really sank in that she really was in love.

"Of course she is," Sarah said dismissively. "You're cute and vulnerable. Look, I don't wanna be too forward about it, but I'd hate to see you get crushed. I'm your friend, aren't I?"

"Of course you are," Galen said, growing somewhat concerned.

"Then you need to listen to me, because I only want you to know the honest truth," Sarah said, turning to face him. She took his hands in hers and moved their heads together until their foreheads touched lightly, and kept her voice soft.

"What is it?"

"I'm not sure she's showing you her true sides," Sarah said. "I know you want to think the best of her. She has her moments, I'll give her that, but she's deceptive. When you aren't around, she just has… I'm not sure how to describe it. She's got this power trip. I can feel it all the time. She thinks that she's better than everyone else. She's… controlling - that's the word. I'm really afraid that she's only into you because she thinks that you're easy to control."

"She slept with me last night," Galen said. "I wanted it. I mean, nothing happened, but it was…nice." It felt familiar, he added to himself, lost to the thought, but he didn't want to share it with Sarah for fear that she would make it seem insignificant.

"You're too sweet," Sarah said sadly. "I don't want you to get caught up in this and hurt. What would you do if some bad spell came again? More importantly, how do you think she would react to that? Do you really expect her to understand it?"

Galen lowered his head and felt for Sarah's wrists, tracing the scars again with little strokes of his fingers. They made him distraught but oddly comforted at the same time. "I don't expect anything anymore."

"Well, they expect things," Sarah said. She thought for a second and then laughed. "They honestly think that when you say you're okay, you mean it or something. They don't realize that every waking second, or even in your dreams, you're not okay. You'll never be okay. Maybe you're better sometimes. But I'd bet my soul that sometimes you just think about dashing your brains out, and you can't let it go. And when you're with a girl like her, you're alone there. She'll never get that."

"I don't want her to."

"Like you don't want to be understood," Sarah scoffed. "We're all just misunderstood. Come on, tell me that you're not going to miss being in that home. You probably hated it with all of your guts, but you still feel like you belong there."

"I don't miss the orderlies," Galen said.

"No," Sarah snorted softly, letting a smile emerge. "But the people. Okay, some of them are just completely nuts, or assholes, granted, but a few are at least coherent enough to get to know."

"Nuts, yeah," Galen said, and then fought off a grin, remembering Rachel. If anyone would have taken advantage of him, it was her. "Eamon was good, though. You remember him?"

"Yeah," Sarah said, quickly drawing off of his surface memories, and she was flooded with the thoughts that were going through Galen's head. Rachel, Eamon, Addison, Vancouver, and all of the risqué happenings that had gone on. "He sure was crazy about you."

Galen felt a flush and squirmed uncomfortably and took his hands away, still trying to stave off an embarrassed smile. "I think that was all just joking."

"Mm-mm, nope," Sarah teased lightly. "He would've jumped your bones in an instant if you'd let him. And if you really knew how cute he was, I bet you would've rolled over in a second."

"Stop," Galen winced in embarrassment. "I wouldn't have slept with anyone there."

"Not even me?" Sarah frowned slightly.

"You weren't interested," Galen stated.

Sarah paused for a second, unsure of what to say. "Wow. I guess I'm good at hiding things. I was always pretty crazy about you."

Galen tipped his head up, leaning back slightly. "I'd have known," he said, even though he knew he wouldn't have.

"Then I don't think you wanted to," Sarah said. "Or maybe I didn't want you to. You didn't understand a lot of things. You still don't."

"I understand some things," Galen said, remembering his times talking to the Other, and all of the half-truths it would spew at him. He remembered killing things, and feeling the darkness of his dreams seep into his being. "And… I'm learning."

"You've still got a lot to learn," Sarah said. She went to the sink and unplugged it, watching all of the pinkish liquid swirl down the drain. The scent of it was not nearly as good as the scent of Galen's despair, and it would taste even better after she let it brew. He was stronger now, but all she had to do was isolate him and she'd be able to drain him in a few more days. It would seem like a relapse to anyone, although they might figure out what it really was. She was tempted to do it sooner and get the hell out, but the idea of the demon hunters being so helpless and oblivious amused her to no end.

"Where are we now?" Willow asked after a long moment of being surrounded by shapeless, cloudy darkness.

"Nowhere," the ghost tilted his head, flummoxed. He pushed a hand out towards the darkness, trying to force it to take shape, but he seemed to have lost a significant amount of influence.

"You know, the Ghost of Christmas Past would be spookier than you," Willow informed him, showing no reaction although he gave her a glare that chilled her blood.

"We're in the peripheral," Spike murmured, tilting his head down as he began to move. It seemed impossible to go anywhere in an endless void of nothing, but Willow had to follow him to ensure that they wouldn't end up in separate places or something.

"Right. I knew that," Willow said. She waited a long time with no response from her guide. "Am I supposed to know what that means exactly?"

"What he sees, what he perceives," Spike said.

Willow's eyebrows lifted. "Galen?"

Spike 'hmm'ed and swept his hand through the mist-like air. "His consciousness."

"Consciousness," Willow repeated. "I don't think so. See, I happen to have been in someone's consciousness before. Buffy, for example. It isn't exactly empty. In fact, it's pretty life-like. Granted, there are some things that can't happen in reality, but it's really chock-full of scenery and objects and things."

"He's a clean slate," Spike reminded her. "Everything is unclear, intangible. Confused."

"Of course," Willow said. "Because Galen is confused. He doesn't see anything, after all, and his experience hasn't exactly been beneficial or even sober half the time. His perspective on the world is skewed."

"Exactly."

"Do you talk to him?" Willow asked.

"I exist here. Dreams, memories, thoughts are accessible. He knows me."

"Does he… does he realize what you are?"

"He considers me some dark thought," Spike said. "I give him strength, and cruelty. Necessary evil."

Willow wanted to protest, but knew that she couldn't. "Does he remember who he was?"

"No."

"Are you going to tell him?"

"Why would I?"

Willow sighed, realizing that if he were going to be cooperative in the least, he would have done it already.

"Here," Spike said, pressing into some hard bit of the darkness. Willow stared at it, trying to see if it would take shape, and when she looked around again she realized that the shape of a room had formed around them.

"I really hate this place," Willow muttered.

"It's a tower of nightmares," Spike said admiringly. If this was anything like what Galen saw, Willow wondered what Spike saw with those dead white eyes.

There was more light, and as Willow followed Spike, color actually filled the area. She realized she was in the lobby of the Hyperion. Where she stood, everything was almost perfectly clear. Around her, however, the room quickly became faded and discolored, objects difficult to discern, shadows squirming in the most unnerving way.

"Galen sees this?"

"No," Spike admitted. "I can be where he is."

"He isn't here," Willow said. In fact, no one was. She expected to see Langoliers at any moment. Come to think of it, they probably lurked in the corners, where unnatural nothingness pervaded.

"He's upstairs," Spike said, as if he could hear or feel Galen in some way. It made sense, seeing how they were connected.

"Then why are we down here?" Willow asked. The ghost lifted his head, as if asking her to wait a moment. She felt a presence long before she saw anyone, and that freaked her out a little. "Sarah," she realized as the girl crossed the room. She felt something dark and angry rise off of Spike, and she was feeling the same way herself. "What is she doing here?"

The phone rang, much softer than usual, and Sarah drifted towards it, looking around to make sure the place was deserted. She picked up the phone before the next ring, and spoke in a low voice.

"Hello," Sarah said into the receiver. "Who is this?" There was a short moment as whoever was on the other end replied. "I'm sorry," Sarah said in a tone that rubbed Willow the wrong way. "There isn't anyone here by that name. No, there isn't a Buffy, either. You have the wrong number. Please don't call here again."

"What?" Willow blurted out as Sarah hung up the phone. "Who was that on the phone?" Spike didn't reply, and when Willow glanced at him, she saw that he had reverted to a shadow, the darkness stretching out to reach him, eyes glowing in contrast to the black space.

"No one of consequence," Sarah muttered under her breath, crossing the room to stand before the two. Her eyes were unnatural. "Look at you. Two birds, one stone."

"You won't have him," Spike swore.

"I'll be the death of him," Sarah countered. "But don't fret, lover. You'll be with him, after all. But if you get in my way, I'll kill you in an instant." She turned her eyes to Willow, the predatory gaze filling the witch with terror and anger all at once. "And you with him."

"Hecate, I call upon you," Willow said, feeling a charge of magic go through her. "Strike down this enemy before me, and let her evils return threefold."

The spell seemed to have no effect, but Sarah hissed in anger and moved away from the witch.

"You'll regret that," Sarah spat out.

"My friend is going to kick your ass first," Willow retorted, and Sarah fled upstairs. She looked at Spike, feeling ready for a battle. "I don't suppose there's any way I could beg you to tell Buffy that I'm here and what's going on?"

"I can't make myself seen."

"What, because of her?" Willow asked. "Please, Buffy will be all over her before she gets a chance to even make a threat."

"I can't make myself seen," Spike repeated. "She only sees me because she herself is a malevolent spirit."

"Then we have to get Galen away from her somehow," Willow said. "Can she always see you?"

"Not if I stay in the peripheral, or in deep in Galen's thoughts," Spike said.

"Then we have to go," Willow said. "And you can tell him there."

"I'll be less than a thought."

"It's a good thing you've got me, then."

"Buffy," Angel almost did a double-take when the blonde came in through the front door. He had just gotten back a while ago, and hadn't expected her to come in after him. "I thought you were looking after Galen."

"Uh, I was," Buffy said. "But I left him along for a second, and then some other blonde girl hottie that he actually knows, and… apparently likes a lot, showed up and swept him up into her talons. I mean… hands." Angel almost wanted to smile at her pout and jealousy, but knew that the cuteness he saw in it was only a thin layer on top of sincere anger and hurt. "I'm not cut out for this girlfriend stuff."

"That's ridiculous," Angel said, slightly uncomfortable because he was in an awkward position to try to console her.

"It's true," Buffy shrugged, unwilling to hear anything besides. She went and sat down on the arm of the couch, folding her hands on her lap for a moment. "I don't connect well. I never really have. I'm always torn between being a slayer or having a normal life. Most girls don't get to choose, so what am I complaining about?" she laughed very lightly and looked up at him. "But when I've tried to be a normal girl, my efforts end up failing in a spectacular, fiery demise."

The door opened again at the end of her sentence, and more of the team returned, now including Giles.

"So," Buffy stood up again. "Loving caretaker girlfriend Buffy, I am not. I can't compete there. But I can always kick some demon ass."

"My kind of girl, anyway," Gunn commented as he strolled across the lobby. He caught Buffy's look and had to chuckle. "I'm just messin' with ya. The last thing I want is fang boy on my tail."

Buffy's outraged look flew to Angel. "You're my curse."

"What?" Angel averted his eyes. "No. I don't… care who you date."

"Liar," Cordelia's voice rang out as she went to the front desk. She gave the telephone a look, feeling as if it had been slightly misplaced, then set aside the feeling and began checking messages and email.

"I hope you've not called me here for gossip," Giles said quietly. He came to stand beside Buffy.

"Nope," Buffy replied, the same quiet reverence in her voice. "Another skin-of-your-teeth dire situation again."

"Indeed," Giles agreed, feeling a bit sickened by the grievous depths of their problem. "It seems that as soon as we stop up one problem, another thing goes terribly wrong."

"This time I'm not letting it happen," Buffy said. "We got Spike back, and now we're getting Willow back."

"Where do you…" Giles trailed off, considering the task with a slight sigh, "suggest we begin?"

"Public enemy number one," Buffy said. "Wolfram and Hart. They did some number on Spike, and I'll bet you anything that they put a whammy on Wil."

"They have very powerful tricks," Giles said cautiously. "If we hope to have any chance of… of bringing her back, we'll have to take a deal of time to carefully research."

Buffy considered this for only a brief moment, and folded her arms resolutely. "Whatever it takes."

"What are you doing in my room?" Galen questioned. He had heard the door open, but didn't speak until he felt the unwelcome intrusion.

Sarah closed the door lightly behind her, leaning against the frame. "How did you know it was me?"

"I'm getting used to the footsteps," Galen said quietly, but really it was the eerily silent way that Sarah moved that gave her away. Everyone else made a certain noise when they walked. He knew that Buffy wouldn't come anywhere near him now if Sarah were hanging around, and it was starting to trouble him. "I told you I wanted to rest."

Sarah didn't heed this, only took it as vulnerability and slipped closer to him. "You know I'd do anything for you, right?" She slipped onto the bed where he was sitting, blood-flecked sheets spilled around him. His skin was sticking too much, and he was too sore to lie comfortably.

Galen drew a breath while she slid against him. Her fingers moved over his neck towards his jaw, but Galen turned his head the other way instead. He flinched and rubbed his face when his eyes bothered him again, and Sarah dropped her hand. She sat quietly beside him, almost comfortable to be there while Galen waited for his eyes to cooperate again. The spasms weren't so difficult this time, and he was able to relax after a moment and open his eyes. From what little he could see, it was even darker. He was used to the low level of light, but the ink black additions were unnatural. He was all too used to that as well. The shadows filled him with the anxiety to leave, and when he glanced in Sarah's direction, the sight of black leeches – swarms of them – made him startle and then sit very still.

"What's wrong?" Sarah questioned, and he smelled carrion.

"Nothing," Galen kept his head tilted away from her. Then a few noises made him look hopefully towards the door. "Who's downstairs?"

"Almost everyone," Sarah responded hesitantly. "Want me to tell them to keep it down?"

"No," Galen said, disregarding her as he flung a hand out to find the clothes that Buffy had left. "I want you to get out of my room."

Sarah stood up, surprised by his change in mood. She watched, amused as Galen found his shirt and sorted it, pulling on the dark fabric and then fumbling with buttons. "I could help you-"

"Get out," Galen repeated.

That made Sarah pause, tilting her head as she tried to figure him out. It was possible she'd read him wrong. She could always kill the slayer and take her form, but that would take a lot more work than it was worth to avoid the bitch's friends. She just had to be sweeter to him, and savor the thrill of being under his skin, under the radar. "I'll be waiting for you outside," she informed him, slipping off through the door.

It was a surreal feeling for Willow to be standing in the same room as her friends while they were trying to save her from a mystical coma. Even more surreal was the sensation of only being half in the world, even by standards of an out-of-body experience. She found it was difficult to keep herself in the room and hold the shadows back at the same time. She was afraid that they would reach out and take her in, and knew that they could. It was like walking in a nightmare, and if she lost focus she could quickly find herself in some hellish place.

"Buffy, please listen," Willow pleaded. She could almost hear Spike telling her that it was useless, but she knew that her friends were connected enough that if she pushed hard enough to get the right person to hear her, they would. "It's Sarah. Sarah," she repeated. "She's a demon. A life-sucking hag of a demon. You need to kick her ass for me. Please… please."

Buffy went on reading her book, completely heedless to anything around her. Willow sighed and trembled with frustration, feeling the darkness pulling around her.

"I feel like something is trying to take me," Willow said to the darkness, only mildly comforted to know that Spike was there. "Am I going to die? Is that how this works? The darkness takes me?"

"No, that's something else," Spike's voice came back like an echo. She saw a brief flash of white, and that was it. She wondered what he was doing in there. "These are living nightmares. They want you… to thrive, to have form."

"You mean, like, they don't exist otherwise?" Willow questioned. Spike responded with some vague noise of agreement. She hoped that he would not leave her alone here, but did not want to say it out loud.

"I've found something," Wesley said calmly, raising his voice only enough so that the others could hear him clearly. His lack of enthusiasm did not bode well with Willow, and she came closer to see what it was. Angel was also at Wesley's side, looking over his shoulder. "A powerful spell to keep one in a stasis of some sort," Wesley explained aloud.

"How powerful?" Giles questioned, adjusting his glasses with curiosity.

"Something that Wolfram and Hart would operate with," Wesley said. "Somewhat gaudy but very potent."

"How do you break it?" Buffy asked.

"We need to keep checking," Fred reminded her. "The symptoms have to match… or we might be doing more harm than good." She smiled at Buffy gingerly and then Wesley. "I'll look into this, just in case. The rest of you should keep looking."

"It isn't Wolfram and Hart!" Willow cried. "It's that skanky thing upstairs!"

Willow's heart caught in her throat when Buffy's gaze lifted, brow creasing as she frowned, listening. "Yes!" Willow gasped, almost too excited to seize the moment. "I'm here, Buffy! I'm right here! Can't you hear me?"

Buffy's gaze went through her and turned to the stairs, where Angel was already sneaking a glance. Galen stood at the top of the stairs, feeling the railing and standing perfectly still, head tilted slightly to listen. There was a prolonged silence and then Buffy finally spoke. "Galen?"

"Galen," Willow repeated. "Can you hear me?" She turned to look at Spike. "Talk to him! Tell him that I'm here."

"Why should I?" the demon's voice came back to her, and she realized the shadows had retreated further.

"Because I can help you," Willow told him. She was interrupted by a movement above, and suddenly Sarah was at Galen's side.

"Careful," she said in a sugar-rich tone that made Willow feel sick to her stomach. "I'll help you down," she said, linking arms and fingers with Galen, cautioning with every step as they came down.

"I know what you are," Willow informed her as the demon continued her charade. "It's only a matter of time before my friends figure it out, and then Buffy is going to be all over you."

"Here we are," Sarah said when they reached the last step. Galen stumbled and fell against Sarah's steady hands, her firm support quickly sorting him out.

"Thank you," he said under his breath, smiling fractionally. He closed his eyes when she ran a hand through his hair. Willow found herself backing away from them, unable to bear the scene in front of her, and a little afraid. She watched Sarah escort Galen to a seat, and dimly heard them converse. Willow felt faraway, and then she let the darkness envelop her again.

"What atmospheric displacement properties does it have?" Fred asked, readying her fingers at the keyboard. She had a database constructed with the information on various spells, hexes, curses, and other mystical forces that could put a witch as powerful as Willow into a coma.

"It leaves a greenish tint in the air where the spell is cast," Wesley said very quietly, scanning the page in the book and double-checking with his translations. "It also leaves behind… the distinct smell of sulfur."

"Sulfur," Fred repeated. "Got it."

"We'll never be able to get back into Wolfram and Hart to see if anything smells like sulfur," Buffy commented ruefully. She leant against the desk, staring out at the lobby where Sarah and Galen sat. They had sat there for an hour at least, talking about the good old days. She didn't remember any hospital experience as fun, but they were so tight. It was like seeing two Scoobies – the horrifying shared experiences just bonded them together.

Angel had sat with them for a while, on his guard, but it was too uncomfortable in the room for him. He finally left with an excuse to clean weapons, and then the tension in the room seemed to drop. The two seemed to forget anything in the room except for one another.

"This is frustrating to say the least," Giles commented, resting beside Buffy.

She watched Galen take Sarah's hands, tracing the lines of her fingers, and her own trembled madly so she had to wring them together. "You're preaching to the choir. If he remembered me…. Well, maybe he wouldn't be sitting with me, but he wouldn't be sitting with her."

Giles made a thoughtful noise and took off his glasses as if to inspect them for smudges. "Ah. I was referring to Willow's case, but I'll just agree with heartfelt woes."

Buffy tilted her head up, feeling stupid. "I'm getting caught up, aren't I?" She turned to look at Giles, face creased with worry and sadness. "Willow should come first. Galen doesn't need my help right now. He's… look at him. He's happy. At least for now."

"It's a miracle he is walking at all," Giles said, tapping his glasses lightly against the palm of his hand. "Let him have his moment. Then he should rest up soon. You'll have to except that he's getting on, and it has to be in whatever way suits him. There's been trauma. Perhaps this life doesn't suit him anymore. He'll go with whatever is right for him, and there is nothing you can do to change that now. The more you push, the more you push him away."

"I just don't feel like she's right for him," Buffy said.

"Then he'll have to discover that himself. He is here, right now. He has redemption. If you care about him truly, you will let him have that, and hope that he gets whatever makes him happiest," Giles said. It almost pained him himself to acknowledge that who he saw was no longer the vampire he conditioned himself to distrust. That vampire was long dead, but had at least gone out in a virtuous blaze. And out of the ashes, a human form was revived, wiped clean of sin. He wondered how much it pained Angel to see him.

"Remember when we used to do this every day?" Sarah asked as Galen lightly ran his finger tips over the grooves on her palms. She didn't coax out too much of the memory so that he wouldn't notice her doing it. "Maybe you don't. You were sick at the time. Seems like every time I see you, you're sick. You might be allergic to me."

"I met you after," Galen said, although he couldn't exactly recall when he met her. She was just there, but he knew somehow that he had been sick and lost for a long time before he really met anyone at all. "You were the first person I really trusted."

Sarah couldn't help but glow. It was almost nice, in a weird way. It wasn't very often she was able to enjoy feeding off of the pleasant memories. They usually turned painful very quickly. That was good also, but this was just sickly sweet, with the darker parts giving it a smoky flavor. If she played her cards right, this would end brutally.

"We go well together, you and I," she told him. "We complement each other, in fact."

"You met me at a bad time in my life," he told her quietly.

"That's why I'll understand you more than anyone ever will," Sarah told him. She reached out a hand to pet his head again, and Galen let his eyes fall shut, tired. He didn't need to move, but Sarah sort of wrapped herself around him, brushing their heads together. It made him feel weaker, like he just wanted to sleep. Instead he kept holding onto her hand, thumb brushing over the scars on her wrist. They comforted him in the way that the silence after a nightmare comforts a child.

Sarah stopped his hand and brought it up, letting his fingers touch the underside of her chin. "Do you want to feel my face? I'll let you."

"No," Galen carefully extracted his hand. "I remember what you look like." He clasped his hands together nervously, drew his feet up to sit cross-legged on the couch and put his hands into his lap nervously. "I can't remember you hair, though. What color is it?"

"It's blonde," Sarah told him, running her hand through the long locks.

"A natural blonde," Galen murmured. He let himself smile. "I remember. That's my favorite hair color."

"You might have mentioned that before," Sarah smiled in return.

"I think I have a thing for blondes," he commented, mostly to himself.

"Has anyone ever told you that you have excellent taste in women?"

"Not that I know of," Galen said. He felt her move in and, almost like a motion of panic, put up his hands just in time to catch her from kissing him. He wasn't fully aware of her intentions, but felt her breath as she made an amused sound, and it made him uneasy.

"What's wrong?" Sarah asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"I'm just… tired," he said, relaxing fractionally but not letting her move any closer.

"So am I," Sarah said, sitting back. "But you should really get some rest. You look like death warmed over."

Galen snorted softly. "Thanks."

"Sorry," Sarah said, reaching out to run a hand over his head again. He was so handsome, and smelled so nice with all of that blood just sitting beneath the skin. The dark bruising just made him more enticing somehow, like he was already tenderized or something. "I'll stay with you tonight."

"Thank you," Galen said.

"Come on," Sarah took his hands and very slowly coaxed him into standing up, although it took a while for him to move. "I'll help you get ready for bed."

"Could you wait for me?" Galen asked her. "Upstairs I mean?"

"What for?" Sarah questioned.

"I'm a bit peckish is all," Galen said, lightly touching his side. "I'd like to get a spot of something to eat, and it makes me uneasy right now."

"I'll get you something," Sarah offered.

"No," Galen shook his head. "I'd just like to help myself a bit right now. I'm tired of this thing, people wanting to spoon feed me or something. Just go to your room, and I'll find my way, alright? I don't want to sleep in my room right now. So if you hear something bashing into the walls a bit later on… that'll be me."

Sarah smiled a bit. "I could call to you at least."

"Don't you dare," Galen said, so defensively it made her laugh.

"Alright, Mr. Independent Guy."

"Got that right."

"I'll just go to my dark, lonely room," Sarah said, "and wait for the handsome prince to come and save me."

She backed off slowly and Galen stood still listening for a long time, even after she was long gone.

Cordelia watched Galen in the lobby for a long time, then went back to find the busy little bees buried in their bookwork.

"The queen finally retired to her chambers," she said to Buffy. When it took Buffy a while to lift her head, she was surprised to find the deeply-entrenched look wasn't just an act.

"What?"

"Did you really not notice that he's alone now?" Cordelia asked. Fred and Wesley resisted a glance, moving themselves closer to their work and continuing with the database quietly.

Buffy looked out from the doorway, barely catching a glimpse of him before she shied back to her book. "Does he need something?"

"You should go talk to him," Cordelia encouraged.

"I can't," Buffy whispered, shaking her head. She lifted her eyes to Cordelia, then looked at Galen again, although she could only see the dark pajama pants she had borrowed from Angel, and his bare feet on the floor, toes curled. "But… you should just go over there for a second. Don't leave him standing there like that. Please."

Cordelia begrudgingly gave into the suggestion. "You need to talk to him," she warned Buffy.

"I will, I just… not right now." It was about all that Buffy could say, and she tried not to look over anymore or wonder if Galen was looking her way, or scratching his arm, or shivering.

Angel came out from the back room, holding a newly polished sword in each hand. He paused when he saw Galen, and the other man looked back at him, following his movements while Angel went to the weapons cabinet. After he locked up the cabinet, he turned back to Galen and found that Cordelia had appeared, almost as a reinforcement of some kind.

"You came all the way downstairs this time," Angel commented, the first thing he'd really been able to say to Galen since he and Sarah came into the lobby.

Galen's brow crinkled slowly. "What do you mean, this time?"

"You don't remember?" Angel asked. "You made it out of your room last time."

"I don't remember that," Galen smiled in spite of himself. "Was it a great travesty?"

"You threw Angel off the balcony," Cordelia said, and the smile evaporated.

Galen wasn't sure what to think about that, or how to react. The mental image did not compute at all, and then he was left wondering how the circumstances came to be, and then he was at a loss yet again, unable to figure out the scene. "What?"

"You don't remember that?" Cordelia lifted an eyebrow skeptically.

"He was half asleep," Angel reasoned. "Probably having a nightmare or something. I shouldn't have gotten so close. I was just worried."

"I-I don't remember doing that," Galen said, massively confused and now distressed. "I'm sorry."

"It wasn't you," Angel assured him in a firm voice. "You went through something traumatic. I'm perfectly fine."

"I don't remember that. And that's not okay. How could you be fine?"

"I'm surprisingly hard-headed," Angel said, but that just made it sound so much worse to Galen, who was still having trouble believing it.

"A few Tylenol, and he's ready to go," Cordelia chipped in.

"I threw you off the balcony?" Galen repeated.

"Pushed is maybe a better verb," Angel said. "It's water under the bridge. I'm fine, but… you don't look so well."

"I must not be so well if I can't remember that," Galen said. He froze up when Angel's touched his head, aware of a cool hand pressing his forehead.

Angel felt Galen tremble beneath his hand and let go. "What's wrong?"

Galen lowered his head. "Can I talk to Buffy?"

"She's sort of busy," Cordelia said, feeling lame.

"Oh." The single resigned syllable broke Cordelia's heart in half. "I get it."

Angel quickly rushed to amend what he knew had to be a mistake. "She isn't too-"

Galen's head lifted instantly, in perfect resolve. "I need to talk to her."

Cordelia hesitated. "She's-"

"I don't care," Galen said. "I need to talk to her. It's important."

Cordelia gave Angel a reluctant look. "Buffy," she called. The slayer had been trying not to listen and was hesitant to come out, but knew it would be immature if she didn't. She slowly straightened up her books, trying to kill time. When Cordelia called her name again, louder, she stood up and cautiously came out into the lobby, stopping a couple feet from Galen.

"Buffy," he said.

"Hey," Buffy spoke softly. "I need to talk, too."

Galen stepped forward to close the gap between them. "You need to know something first."

"I already know it," Buffy told him.

"You don't understand. It's about Sarah."

"No, I do understand," Buffy assured him. "I saw you with her."

That made Galen pause, and a wave of relief passed over him. "You know, then."

She nodded, although she knew he couldn't see it. "I get it. I really do, for once," Buffy said. "You two just know each other. I don't know what else to say, except that I don't want to interfere."

"You don't interfere-"

"But I will," Buffy said. "I don't want to. Look, I-I've been giving you signals. Okay, you've been giving me some too-"

"Buffy-"

"- but it's been mostly me, I know it. And I understand why you like Sarah more."

"Buffy, I like you."

"Please don't make it harder," Buffy begged him. "It's okay if you like her. Just don't try to tell me we can be friends." She still remembered what he had said years ago about the mistake of two ex lovers trying to be friends. The passion would burn and consume, no matter what. In this case, the passion would just burn her until there was nothing left.

"That's not what I want at all," Galen shook his head, a little exasperated.

"Oh." Buffy said quietly, as if she understood, but she didn't.

Galen sighed softly, and took pity on her. He reached out, finding her face with his hands and kissed her forcefully. His lips almost missed, but in a split second they had corrected themselves without thinking. Their lips crushed together for a hot second, then lingered sweetly, sending Buffy's heart racing. He let go of her slowly, still clinging to her arm as if she might fall or run away.

Buffy felt dazed when the kiss ended, unable to focus on anything but the phantom pressure she could still feel on her mouth. There was a dark spot on Galen's lips, a bruise, and she wondered if it was painful, and if it was throbbing now.

"Will you listen to me?" Galen asked, breaking her fixation.

Buffy's eyes went wide. "I'm listening."

"Good," he said. He paused to draw a breath and think. "I like Sarah," he finally said. "Hell, I love her -- like a sister. But…"

Buffy waited for a long time, married about what the next words would be. The silence undid her, until she it was more torturous to wait in fear. "But what?"

"I don't want her around me anymore."

That made the hair on Buffy's neck stand up. "What did she do?"

"I'm not even sure if she's alive," Galen confessed. "That thing, whoever or whatever she is, it isn't Sarah."

A/N: Feedback inspires, but a little hatemail is okay, too. If you see a jarring mistake, PM me and let me know so I can fix it. I still have no beta reader, I'm afraid, so what I miss... sorry. More parts soon... hopefully sooner than 6 months.