Slowly, like a sunrise struggling to cut threw thick black clouds, the truth dawned on Drusilla. It didn't matter if the hamsters were playing a game or not. She was in Cordelia's body and, as long she was careful, nobody had to know that she'd borrowed it.

Her heart began to beat to a new rhythm. Fresh and thrilling and filled with potential.

"It was just a dream," she said. Her new voice didn't sound right. Didn't have any music to it. "It was just a dream."

She focused, at last, on the figure on the screen. The Watcher. Not the old one, the young one. (Though you wouldn't know that, from the way he smelt of dusty old books.)

"Wesley?"