The only character I created in this fic is Hypnos. All else belongs to Joss Whedon and assorted production companies, except the song lyrics, which will be discussed in the afterword.
Thanks to Arlane and Rebecca Carefoot for betaing, and many, MANY people for coming up with song ideas.
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Part One
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She had no idea how she got to the edge of the cliff, but she recognized it as being in Sunnydale. There was nothing really resemebling the cliff anywhere in Sunnydale -- the makeout place had WAY too much grass, and this place was barren, and there were people working below. Fires from above lit up the night.
There was a low, moaning sound which she couldn't quite place; there were people she recognized -- Giles, Willow, Harmony, her mother -- working hard at building something. From the glare of the light she couldn't quite tell what it was, but it was definitely NOT good. And they were all trapped down there.
She somehow KNEW that she had to sing. Singing would solve all of the problems.
-- Xander was there beside her. Where he had come from, she had no idea, but there she was. He interrupted her as she was about to draw a breath. "You know what?" he said. "I'd rather let them stay in hell . . . "
--they were all glaring up at her from the pit. What was she supposed to do? How was she supposed to handle this? How had it all come down to her?
* * *
As she'd done every night for the last four nights in a row, she woke up gasping for breath at precisely 5:17 AM. Four straight nights probably meant that this was something prophetic. So she should take it to the expert.
She lay there for fifteen minutes, and eventually gave up on going back to sleep. She hadn't been able to any of the other three nights, there was no reason to think this would be any different.
One thing that had been different -- Xander had almost completed his statement this time.
Nothing. No sleep. Damn. Well, it just gave her extra time to prepare herself for school.
After a nice, long, relaxing soak, she felt like she was a human being again. She dressed and spent extra-long combing her hair and applying her makeup -- clattering so loud she was sure she could have woken the dead. Oops. Bad phrasing in this town. Anyway, there were no complaints.
She left home early, and got to school extra-early, walking in the front doors the moment they opened, a privilege usually taken advantage of by only a few, football players sneaking in an extra workout, science geeks working on extra-credit projects, and so on. Today, though, she was the first one in the building -- and in point of fact, except for the janitors, the ONLY one in the building, though Principal Snyder stumbled in ten seconds after she did, looking like he had a hangover without having gotten drunk first. He glared at her, but said nothing as he amde his way down the hall.
Anyway, if she wanted to catch Giles early, she had to get to the library early. She slipped down the deserted halls and crept through the weirdly open library doors into the room.
Giles was asleep, collapsed over the central table, over a book. Sweet -- but she needed help. She marched over to the table and tapped him on the shoulder.
He shifted a bit, but didn't stir.
She grabbed him and gently shook him; then, when that didn't work, she shook him a bit more roughly.
He mumbled something and finally, blearily, opened his eyes. "What -- what -- what's going on?" Then he looked up. It seemed to take him a few seconds to recognize her.
"What are YOU doing here?" the librarian said a bit snappishly.
"I need your help, of course," she said, puzzled. "What's with the attitude?"
"You DID just wake me up," he answered, "And in any event you haven't BEEN in this library ever since you and Xander broke up. So I feel a moment of surprise and shock is rather in order."
"Geeze, what IS it with the people in this town? I've heard of lazy winters but THIS is ridiculous!"
Giles prompted, still a touch irritably, "You DID come here for a reason, correct?" as he made a vain attempt to smooth out his hair. Please! Clear pores, nice bone structure, but Giles' hair on the best of days needed two hours with a hair stylist. A fingercombing just was NOT going to cover it.
Anyway. "Right. I've been having the same dream for four nights running, and it seems to involve almost everyone in Sunnydale in some kind of trance, and building things, and all I need to do is save them is sing, but Xander starts to make fun of me and I don't, and then I wake up. Everyone's down in this big pit, building something --and the pit's somewhere in Sunnydale, I know it, but it's nowhere in Sunnydale in real life. Am I making sense?"
"As much as you ever do," he answered. "What makes you think this dream requires my help?"
"Isn't it obvious?" He shook his head. "There's a kind of feel to it. Like there's something I HAVE to do or it'll all go wrong. Something urging me on. And the people in the pit -- are doing something evil. Not on purpose, you know, but it's WAY evil."
"I don't know of anything offhand," he answered, "But I'll do some research to see if I can come up with something. Fair enough?"
"You're not brushing me off, are you?" she demanded.
"No. if you're worried, I'll look it up for you. when can you meet me back here?"
"When are Buffy and all the rest NOT likely to be here?"
"6th period, today, I believe. Cordelia, you have, in the past --"
Sensing that the librarian was about to try to reconcile her with "The Scooby Gang" and wanting no part of it, she interrupted. "That's gym, for me. But I'm excused from that. I'm on this diet which absolutely prevents me from doing any kind of strenuous exercise. Of course, all I get to drink is bottled water, but still --"
Frustrated, Giles said, "Very well then. Sixth period it is. See you then."
Then he got up and stiffly limped into his office.
She turned and left the room. If the brainy guy was in on it -- well he'd figure it out.
Now if he'd only do something about all that tweed . . .
* * *
Giles shook his head as he entered his office. There was a definite pain in his leg when he sat down -- odd that he didn't remember having injured it -- but that was of little matter.
Cordelia actually had been of some help in the past -- but this was too much. For the girl to imagine that she was having dreams that were in any way prophetic was little short of ridiculous. Still, a promise was a promise, and given that he would spend a few hours looking for information to see if there was some off chance that Cordelia's dream could be revelant to something important due to occur.
He blinked a few times and shook his head again, trying to wake up. Now then: Dreams of a pit, and of singing to save people . . .
* * *
Mayor Richard Wilkins woke up abruptly; he was bent over the desk in his office.
Which was extremely odd, because he'd fallen asleep in his own bed, at home, and he was not prone to sleepwalking. As he raised his head he noticed that he was resting in on a sheet of paper written, sloppily, in his own hand.
"TONIGHT IS THE NIGHT," it read. And it was signed, "Hypnos." He'd suspected that Hypnos' time was near, but he never thought the magician would be arrogant enough to control HIS body. Well, no matter, he knew exactly what Hypnos wanted, and exactly his part in how to prepare for the event. From the clock on the wall -- 7:30 or so in the morning -- he had plenty of time to get it all together, until around midnight. Still, he had not been put into office to waste the taxpayers' time, so as soon as he yawned, stretched, and washed his hands, he placed two phone calls.
The first was to Deputy Mayor Finch, telling him to get a specific powder from a storage locker in the City Hall basement.
The second was to Mr. Trick. After all, there WAS a Slayer in town, and even if she was likely to be as easily affected as everyone else -- well, best not to take chances, eh?
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