There are four levels to awareness. The first is unconciousness. This is the complete lack of awareness. You don't know that anything is near you and you don't particularly care. The fourth is complete awake-ness. This is the stage very few people actually attain. Even after six or seven pots of coffee. The normal human state of awareness is number three. This is the awake-but-slightly-not-there demenor common in all people. Step 2 was where Willow hovered.

Now step 2 is a little hard to describe. Only those who are so caffeine addicted that they *need* 7 cups of coffee before they reach stage 3 truly know this state. The closest description is the dreamy feeling between asleep and awake. Well, that's were Willow was.

And LORD, was she trying to stay there.

Now in step 2, one has to remember this. It is ABOVE step one, so you are vaguely aware of the surroundings, however, you do hang on to the not caring part. Right now, Willow *knew* she was in a bright room and she was about to face something she really didn't want to. THAT is why she's in step 2.

***

<Ug.  Light.>

As she slowly came to awareness, Willow Anne Rosenburg tried, desperately, to remember just what she was doing. The last thing she remembered was a very strange dream involving a transparent Angel, Buffy on a bus, and a *really* big headache.

<But that can't be real because I would be talking to the Jud->

"Willow Rosenburg?"

A sweet, clear voice interrupted her thoughts. It wasn't one she knew.

Eyes flying open, Willow rolled away from the voice, instinctively turning away from something she didn't find familiar... Unfortunately, the flat couch she was lying on wasn't very wide.

::thump::

She hit the floor, hard. Not bothering to dwell on the pain of landing, face-down, on what appeared to be a marble floor, Willow rolled into a protective crouch. If there was one thing she'd learned from Buffy in the last two years, it was how to duck and tuck.

Falling back on some of the minor defensive training Giles had instilled in her, she did a quick survey of the room. It was pretty hard, since she was flat on the floor. From what she could tell, she was in a room that could only have been decorated by a five-year old. The colours were so bright, they almost hurt the eye. The walls were a cheery lemon yellow, the curtains a bright lime green. The couch-like thing she'd been sleeping on sported a day-glow orange that had only been popular in the 1980's. It was seated atop a short dias in the center of the room. The only other furniture was a purple plaid, wing-tip chair, set right beneath a large picture window. Bright sunlight shown gaily on its occupant. Apparently, this was the source of the voice. The woman didn't appear to be too intimidating. <Of course, neither did Darla.>

The woman in question had wavy brown hair, green eyes, and medium-sized glasses. Her face was slightly heavy, but no where near over-weight. She was wearing a pair of comfy-looking blue-jeans, green sneakers, and a truly horrible, horizontal-striped sweater. It was truly ugly, but strangely comforting.

"Hi!" The woman's face held a bright, breezy smile that reflected into her tone. "I'm your guide. My name's Lisa. I'm here to take you to the Judges' chamber."

<Oh! Lord, it wasn't a dream.> Feeling somewhat conspicuous, Willow popped up from her crouching position and nearly tripped over the low-slung piece of furniture. <Darn dais.>

"Um, hi. I'm Willow." Valiantly trying to right herself, Willow only succeeded in falling back on to the couch.

Lisa's smile grew brighter. "Oh, we know all about you. Well *I* do, anyway. Amber kinda slacked off, but she was busy drooling. That's why she isn't here."

For some strange reason, Willow felt completely at ease with Lisa. Be it because of her welcoming smile, or- no, it was the smile. There was something about that irrepressible grin that reminded Willow of someone. She wasn't sure who, but she knew it was someone she trusted. Besides, she was supposed to be in heaven. People were supposed to be trusted here, right?

"So, anyway," Lisa stretched her long legs out in front of her. "The council thought it would be a bit traumatic if you just got jerked out of your body and suddenly ended up standing before them. They figured you needed the rest anyway. You had a pretty nasty bump." Swinging her feet in a carefree manner, Lisa looked expectantly up at the small hacker. She was apparently waiting for Willwo to say something.

"Um, thanks?"

"No problem. So, how are you feeling? Headache? I don't really remember what they were like, but from Erin's description, they weren't very pretty."

Shaking her head no, Willow discovered she wasn't lying. The constant dull ache she'd lived with the past week was gone. "No, I'm fine, thanks."

Lisa shrugged, bringing Willow's attention back to the horrid sweater. Tomato-red with three off-white stripes, the thing looked like it had been purchased at a garage sale for $2. Ten years ago. "That's good. People react differently to having their souls jerked out of their bodies. Most people wake up and talk themselves into having ghost-pains. They think they should be hurting, so the do. It's nice to know you aren't like that."

Hopping to her feet with a speed that belied her appearance, Lisa bounced over to a long, flat, yellow wall. After giving the plain wall a smack with her right hand, the cheerful woman backed away, allowing Willow to watch in wonder as the solid plaster dissolved into an arched doorway. "So, now that you're all rested and ready to go, you can go talk to the council. They don't like having souls out of their bodies any longer than they have to."

"Wait!"

Willow's panicked screech pulled Lisa up short. Turning back to face her charge, the angel was more than a little startled. Willow standing next to the orange couch, shaking.