I'd like to thank my amazing beta, AmyB and co-beta Always_jbj for all their wonderful suggestions and brilliant work on this story. You guys are the best.

Love you both

**Hugs**

---

Buffy was alone in her dorm room, having one of those rare moments where she was actually studying, when she was interrupted by a knock at the door. Letting out a frustrated sigh at being disturbed, she threw her textbook down and answered the door.

“Wesley?” she asked, surprised to discover her ex-Watcher standing in the hallway. He looked the same as the last time she saw him, wearing a dark tweed suit and glasses, his hair as neatly styled as always, giving him the ever-present look of an English gentleman.

“Hello, Miss Summers. May I come in? I have something of the utmost importance to discuss with you,” he said by way of greeting.

Buffy looked at the man in front of her in complete bewilderment. “Huh?” What could Wesley possibly want to talk to her about?

Wesley shook his head in dismay; what hope did the world have with this girl protecting it? “May I come in?”

“Oh yeah, sure, come in,” she said, stepping aside to allow her former Watcher to enter her room.

“I must say, I’m quite disappointed in you, Buffy. I would have thought that Mr Giles would have trained you better than to invite someone into your home without first conducting adequate tests,” Wesley lectured, stepping over the threshold into the Slayer’s room.

A sudden chill ran down Buffy’s spine when she heard Wesley’s comment; something in his voice was different, as though he was more confident, more in control or something. “Yeah, well, you know me; I never do anything by the book… which is probably due to the fact that I’ve never even seen the book,” she replied, shrugging her shoulders in disinterest. “So, what did you want to talk about that was so important?”

“I need your assistance. It seems we have a situation that requires the skills of a Slayer,” Wesley explained.

“Well, then, I guess you’re out of luck. I quit, remember?” Buffy quipped.

“How could I ever forget?” Wesley replied in a tight voice. “However, be that as it may, I still require your cooperation. It appears that a very powerful and knowledgeable vampire has set up residence in Los Angeles, and your assistance is needed to fight this foe. We must leave at once.”

“Whoa-whoa-whoa, I don’t remember saying anything about following you to L.A. I am halfway through my freshman year of college, and I can’t just up and leave in the middle of a semester to fight some vampire in L.A.!” Buffy objected.

“You are making this much more difficult than necessary,” Wesley replied with an exasperated sigh. “I promise that you won’t have to worry about your school work; the Council has ways of ensuring that your grades will not suffer. Moreover, innocent lives are at stake, and you can’t simply turn your back on them.”

Buffy looked at Wesley in surprise. “They can do that? I mean, the Council can fix my grades? Why didn’t they do that while I was working for them? Because it sure would have made my life a whole lot easier; at the very least, it would have gotten Principle Snider off my case!”

Wesley raised his eyebrows at Buffy’s question. “I’m sure I don’t know, but I can assure you that we will do everything within our power to ensure that you are not disadvantaged by helping us.” Clearing his throat, Wesley took a stepped closer to the tiny blonde. “At this very instant, lives are at stake; we must depart immediately.”

“Wesley, what am I getting into? What’s the emergency?”

Wesley responded with his usual annoying British mannerisms, the same gestures that had always driven Buffy crazy. Straightening his shoulders, he stuck out his chin in that ‘why are you being so difficult’ way before finally addressing her question. “As I previously stated, a very powerful vampire has surfaced in Los Angeles. The Council believes that he may attempt to raise an ancient Warha’arr demon. The ritual is said to require at least one hundred human sacrifices, and we have information leading us to believe that sacrifices are already being collected. As I am in no doubt you can understand, time is of the essence, so let’s not dally any longer.”

“Okay already, I get it; must hurry. I just need to call Giles and let him…”

“I have already spoken with Mr Giles informing him of the situation. He was very accommodating and assured me that you would do your best to assist us. Now do you mind? Time is of the essence, people’s lives are at stake.”

Closing the door behind her Buffy sighed and reluctantly followed her former Watcher down the hall.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*

“So who is this all powerful vampire, and why does he want to raise a Walrus demon?” Buffy asked as she followed Wesley out to his car.

“Warha’arr demon,” Wesley corrected, rolling his eyes in frustration. How this girl had ever managed to survive this long, he would never know. It was a wonder that she could remember that the pointy end of the stake goes into the vampire; she had absolutely no discipline or restraint, let alone the good sense to conduct proper screening of guests before inviting them into her home. It was a wonder that half of Sunnydale’s vampire population could not just enter her dorm room willy-nilly. It was no surprise that his counterpart, Mr Giles, had obviously given up on his futile attempts to properly train the girl; she was positively beyond help.

“Yeah, him. So what does this Walnut demon do anyway?”

Taking a deep, cleansing breath, Wesley chose to ignore the girl’s stupidity and answer her question. “Well, among other things, it feeds off human flesh, often choosing to skin its victim alive before consuming the internal organs,” he explained.

“So how do I kill it?”

“It’s not an easy task. First, you must destroy all seven of its hearts, and then you must remove its head,” Wesley explained.

“That doesn’t sound too hard. Just give me something sharp and pointy, and no more Waldo,” Buffy replied with a nonchalant shrug.

“I’m afraid that it isn’t that simple. The immense size of the demon not only makes it a formidable enemy but a difficult mark. In order to penetrate the hearts, you must first pierce its tough body armour, all the while avoiding the creature’s razor sharp talons. Every part of its body is toxic, including its skin, blood and saliva. Not to mention the Warha’arr’s ability to flay human flesh from the bones with just a simple glance,” Wesley explained. “I can assure you that it is of paramount importance that this demon is not allowed to pass through the gates into this world, for once it is here there is virtually no way to stop it,” he finished, coming to a stop in front of a large black van. “This is it. You can put your bags in the back; there should be plenty of room.”

Buffy nodded her head as she walked to the back of the van. “What do you know about the vampire?” she asked over her shoulder as she released the door catch.

“Nothing really, only that he is extremely knowledgeable and residing somewhere outside of Las Vegas.”

The tiny hairs on the back of the Slayer’s neck prickled in warning. Releasing her grip on the partially open door, she turned to face her former Watcher. “I thought you said that he was in L.A.”

“Did I?” he asked, casting his eyes to the ground, giving him the appearance of a man deep in thought. “How very foolish of me,” he finally said, taking a step closer to the wary Slayer.

“Yeah, foolish!” Buffy replied in a cynical tone. “So which one is it, L.A. or Vegas?”

Wesley chuckled in response to Buffy’s snide question. “Does it really matter?” he asked, taking another step closer and allowing the soft moonlight to illuminate his harsh features. Deep ridges creased his forehead, accentuating the dark hollows surrounding his golden eyes; sharp protruding cheekbones gave way to unnatural sunken flesh, emphasizing the long razor-sharp teeth jutting cruelly from his mouth.

A small shudder travelled down Buffy’s spine; she had known that something was different about her former Watcher, but she had never expected this. She could always spot a vampire from a mile away, and yet she had felt nothing to warn her of this threat, apart from a few mild tingles. How was that even possible?

“You really are incredibly stupid, aren’t you?” Wesley stated, taking another step closer to the guarded Slayer. “Not only did you invite a vampire into your home without conducting a simple test, you then follow him out to a dark deserted car park without even so much as a stake on hand for protection.”

Straightening her spine in indignation, Buffy glared at her former Watcher. “That’s where you’d be wrong,” she replied in a cold tone, pulling a well-worn stake out of the waistband of her jeans.

Wesley responded to her threat with a chuckle. “I’m afraid that that would be a case of too little too late, Miss Summers,” he retorted, watching in amusement as the doors of the van burst open, revealing half a dozen vampires.

Quickly spinning around to face the latest threat, Buffy inadvertently turned her back on the small group of vampires hiding within the shadows. They attacked without warning, easily knocking the overwhelmed Slayer to the ground.

Desperately fighting against her captors’ strong hold, Buffy watched in terror as Wesley knelt down beside her. A shiver of panic ran through the Slayer’s body when he reached out to wipe a small drop of blood from her lip. Even with his cool flesh brushing against hers, she still couldn’t feel any presence of a demon dwelling within this man. He was blank; they all were.

“How?"

Wesley grinned in delight at Buffy’s innocent question. “How, Miss Summers?” he asked, bringing his bloodstained finger up to his mouth and licking it clean of all traces of the Slayer’s powerful blood.

Buffy grimaced in disgust as she watched Wesley’s features cloud over with pleasure at the taste of her blood.

“You’d be amazed at the wealth of information one can obtain from the Council’s library,” he said with an evil grin, pulling a large needle out of his pocket for the Slayer to see.

A small whimper ripped past Buffy’s lips at the sight of the syringe; she had never been more terrified in her life. Her heart pounded in terror as she madly struggled to break free, only to be pushed down by more hands; they were everywhere, holding her down like lead weights, bruising her flesh as she fought for freedom. Tears prickled her eyes when she felt the harsh sting of the needle entering her veins, followed by the burn of the unknown liquid coursing through her system, plunging her into darkness…

---

Buffy slowly awoke to find herself lying on a large bed; both of her hands were stretched above her head, held in place by heavy shackles. Large heavy chains bound her feet and waist, effectively immobilising the deceptively fragile blonde.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to figure out where she was and how she had gotten here. The last thing she could remember was studying in her room and something about L.A. She was going to L.A. to fight something… a walnut. Why would she have to fight a walnut? Shaking her head in confusion, she tried to piece together her fuzzy memories. No, it wasn’t a walnut, it was a demon; she was going to L.A. to fight a demon, and there was a van with vampires…. Lots of vampires, they had held her down while Wesley injected her with something.

Buffy’s eyes snapped open in recollection. She could remember everything now; she could remember Wesley coming to her dorm room and asking her for help, the fight in the car park, and the smug look on his face as he injected her with whatever had been in that syringe.

Mind kicking into overdrive, she began to desperately tug on her restraints. She had to get out of here; what could he possibly want with her? Why would he want to go through all the trouble of drugging her when he could have killed her on the spot? A cold shiver ran down her spine; what if he was going to use her to raise that demon? She didn’t want to be skinned alive and slowly eaten.

“You’ll find the chains are quite unbreakable, Miss Summers,” Wesley announced from the shadows.

Buffy jumped at the sound of Wesley’s voice, ignoring his comment as she increased her efforts to escape, frantically tugging on the chains until they cut into her wrists. Panic soon turned to terror when she realised that Wesley was correct the chains were indeed unbreakable.

“What are you going to do to me?” she asked, unable to keep the sound of fear out of her voice.

Stepping out of the shadows, he looked down upon the Slayer’s defenceless form, taking immense pleasure in the smell of fear that radiated off the tiny blonde; it was intoxicating. Fighting back the urge to taste her blood once again, he answered her question. “Absolutely nothing, Miss Summers. I can assure you I have no intentions of harming you.”

“Why don’t I believe you?” Buffy said as she gave the chains a couple more tugs.

“Why wouldn’t you? If I had any intentions of harming you, I would have done it long before now,” Wesley stated matter-of-factly.

Buffy had a sudden feeling of dread fall over her. “What do you want, then?”

Wesley laughed. “From you, Miss Summers, absolutely nothing… Well, except for you to live an exceptionally long life. After all isn’t that what every Slayer wants?” he asked, taking a seat next to the bed.

“What?” Buffy asked in surprise. “Why?”

“Why, Miss Summers? Well, that is very simple; if I were to kill you, another Slayer would be called, and so on and so forth. However, my keeping you alive and in my control enables me to have free roam of the world. After all, who is going to stop me? No Slayer, no boundaries, everyone’s happy,” he explained, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. “Oh, and by the way, I must thank you; you’ve saved me quite a bit of trouble by placing that wretched girl Faith in a coma. Until she either wakes up or expires, that only leaves you to worry about.”

“What! You’re going to keep me chained to a bed until I die of old age?!” she shrieked in disbelief.

“Not at all; you will be given free reign of several rooms. Of course, you will be monitored.” He motioned towards a camera in the ceiling.

Buffy laughed. “What makes you think I’m not going to kick your sorry ass the second you let me out of these chains?”

Wesley chuckled at Buffy’s comment. “Ah, Miss Summers, ever the little spitfire,” he said with a grin. “Of course I would not release you with out taking adequate precautions. This little device here is my insurance that you will be on your very best behaviour,” he replied, holding up a small remote control.

“What, a TV remote? Do you think that stopping me from watching my favourite shows is going to keep me from going postal on you?” Buffy snarked.

Wesley laughed. “Hardly, Miss Summers. This little device is the control to that nice little collar you are wearing.”

Realisation suddenly struck that she was indeed wearing a collar; creasing her brow in confusion, the furious Slayer asked, “What, are you gonna take me to the pound if I misbehave?”

Wesley smiled evilly. “I don’t think I can explain this adequately. Why don’t I just give you a demonstration?” he replied, pressing the button on the remote.

Buffy screamed in pain as the collar sent an excruciating jolt of electricity into her throat. The jolt only lasted a fraction of a second, but it was enough to cause tears to form in her eyes as she coughed uncontrollably.

Wesley stood and walked over to Buffy with a wide grin plastered across his conceited face. “What, Miss Summers, no smart comments? No witty riposte?”

Buffy took a ragged breath and stared at Wesley with pure hatred. “Fuck you, you son of a bitch!” she spat back at the smug vampire.

Wesley chuckled at Buffy’s response. “Why, Miss Summers what terrible language. Maybe I should teach you some manners. What do you think?” he asked, positioning his finger over the button once again.

“Go to hell!” she bit out, venom dripping from every word.

“Oh, I’m sure I will,” he replied, smug grin firmly in place as he shocked her again, watching in delight as she arched her back off the bed, trying to turn her body away from the excruciating pain.

Tears blurred her vision as she looked up to see Wesley standing over her, a wide grin plastered across his conceited face. “Bastard!” she hiss in pain, wanting nothing more than to see the smug bastards crumble to dust.

Wesley’s eyes shone with mirth, he had so hoped that she would give him due cause to correct her again. There was just something so satisfying about seeing the Slayer in pain. It was almost addictive. “I see that you are still as stubborn as ever. Perhaps I should give you another lesson in respect,” he commented dryly, lightly ghosting his finger over the small remote.

“No,” she gasped, not wanting to feel the collar in use again.

Wesley cocked his eyebrow. “What was that, Miss Summers?”

Closing her eyes in defeat, the Slayer slowly shook her head from side to side. She knew that this was a fight she couldn’t possibly hope to win. “No. No more, please,” she begged, knowing that this was what he wanted from her.

Wesley smiled at Buffy’s pitiful plea. “Very good, I guess you are not such a slow learner after all,” he replied, once again taking a seat next to the helpless Slayer. “Now, as I was saying before, you will have free roam of this room and the bathroom, which is through that door.” He indicated a door on the other side of the room. “You will be monitored at all times by means of cameras mounted throughout your living quarters, as well as regular in-person checks. Any attempt to harm either the cameras or any of my entourage will result in you being reintroduced to this little device,” he said, holding up the remote for Buffy to see. “And I’m sure you don’t want that to happen, now do you?”

Buffy simply shook her head in response.

A cold smile bloomed across his features at Buffy’s pitiful gesture. “You have a fully stocked refrigerator, and hot meals will be brought to you three times a day. Do you have any questions?”

“Just one. Can I get these chains off now?” Buffy asked as she watched Wesley casually lean back in his chair.

Wesley chuckled. “All in good time, Miss Summers. You’ll find some bandages in the bathroom cupboard to attend to your wounds. Oh, and by the way, the collar also activates if you try to remove it or leave your room, so you’ll find there is no need for violence; the only way you can leave this room is if I let you.”

“And I’m guessing that’s not gonna happen anytime soon?” Buffy said under her breath.

Wesley gave her a sardonic smile. “No, I think the day I let you walk out that door will be the day I take up sunbathing.”

Buffy simply snorted in response.

Pulling a small two-way radio out of his pocket, Wesley chose to ignore Buffy’s sardonic snort, instead keeping his mind strictly on business. “Security team come in.”

“Security here,” came over the radio.

“May I please have some assistance in our guest’s room?” Wesley asked.

“Right away, Sir.”

A few seconds later, four large vampires entered the room. “You called for us, sir?” one of the vampires asked.

“Yes, please unchain our guest,” Wesley ordered, offering him the key to her cuffs.

“Are you sure, sir? What if she attacks?” a second minion asked.

“I don’t believe I asked for your opinion,” Wesley growled in annoyance. “Now do as I ask!”

“But…” As the vampire started to protest, Wesley removed a stake from his pocket and threw it at the disobedient minion, promptly dusting him.

“As I was saying, I would like for you to unchain our guest. I do hope no one else has any objections?” Wesley said as he calmly sat back down in his chair.

The three remaining minions all nodded their heads hastily in agreement and quickly went about the task of unchaining the Slayer.

Buffy cringed in revulsion the instant their hands touched her skin. She felt sick to her stomach at the thought that these creatures could have so much control over her; that her life from this moment on could quite possibly hinge on the whims and desires of one man. If he wanted her dead, he could kill her by simply pressing a button. However, an even scarier thought was that, if he wanted her alive, who knew to what extremes he would go. Her blood ran cold at the thought of enduring decades of torment at the hands of this man… this demon. Clenching her fists in determination, she swore to herself that that would never happen; she would be free by nightfall.

A malevolent smile bloomed across her lips as she turned her head and watched one of the creatures fumble with the locks binding her wrists. He was clearly terrified, possibly due to Wesley’s impromptu dusting or the fact that he was currently unchaining a powerful and pissed-off Slayer.

“Although I’m not growing any older, I would still like to leave this room sometime this year!” Wesley growled impatiently.

Buffy silently laughed to herself when the terrified minion practically jumped out of his skin at the sound of his master’s irritated voice, dropping the key on the floor in the process.

Wesley let out a frustrated sigh. “Today, if you please!”

“Sorry, Sir,” the minion apologised, picking the key off the floor.

“It’s not that hard of a task; a bloody monkey could do it blindfolded, and most likely with more skill than you! Now before I show just how sorry you will be, do as I asked and unchain the Slayer!” Wesley demanded.

Buffy’s eyes shone with mirth as she watched the terrified creature fumble once more with the key. She almost laughed aloud when she saw the look of relief that washed across his face when he finally inserted the key, unlocking the last of her restraints. Unable to resist taunting the terrified fledgling, the Slayer leant forward and yelled, “BOO!” watching in amusement as the startled demon stumbled back several feet before falling to the floor.

“Was that really necessary, Miss Summers?” Wesley asked.

“You never said I couldn’t say ‘boo’; how was I to know he’s all skittish?” she replied, shrugging her shoulders. “You know, I really think you can do better; why don’t you just dust him?”

“Yes, I know, it’s so hard to find good help these days,” he replied, letting out a frustrated sigh as he stepped over the pathetic excuse of a vampire lying on the floor. “Wouldn’t you agree?”

“No, sir,” the minion whimpered.

“So you disagree with me?” Wesley asked, producing a stake from his breast pocket.

“No, sir,” the minion replied, frantically shaking his head back and forth.

“So you agree that you are ineffectual and inadequate?” Wesley countered.

For a moment, the petrified demon just stared at his master, not knowing what to say. If he agreed, Wesley was sure to kill him for being inept. Nevertheless, if he disagreed, he was likely to be killed simply for contradicting the volatile vampire. “Sir, I-I…”

“You have until the count of five,” Wesley stated, making it more than clear by the tone of his voice that the minion not only needed to leave the room, but the state as well if he wanted to escape his wrath.

“One.”

“No, please…” the minion begged.

“Two.”

Eyes wide with terror, the minion scrambled to his feet and ran to the door.

“Three.”

Frantic hands desperately fumbled with the locks adorning the heavy door.

“Four.”

Relief flooded the demon’s system when he heard the wonderful sound of the key turning in the lock. He was going to make it...

“Five,” Wesley announced in a cold tone, effortlessly throwing the stake and dusting the creature before he could even set foot into the corridor.

Buffy watched this interaction with wide-eyed astonishment. For a split second, she just stared at the falling ashes before registering that the door was open; seeing her opportunity to escape, she instantly made a desperate dash for freedom.

As she ran, the world fell away; she couldn’t hear the desperate pounding of her heart, or the hollow sound of her feet hitting the polished floorboards, nor did she feel the rush of air caressing her face and hair. She was so close, only a few feet to go and she would be free…

Wesley watched in amusement as Buffy darted across the room, obviously intent on escaping. He had to give the girl ten points for determination… and subtract twelve for stupidity. She wasn’t even within two feet of the door before the collar activated, throwing her to the floor with a sharp jolt.

She felt like all the wind had been knocked out of her body. Tears stung her eyes as she forced herself to her hands and knees. Pain and humiliation fuelled her movements as she crawled away from the door, away from the pain and from her freedom. The hollow sound of their laughter echoed in her ears, drowning out the sound of her own internal cries of pain and anguish. She wanted to scream, fight, and tear this place apart. She wanted Wesley and his stupid minions to suffer the excruciating pain of feeling each and every cell in their bodies drying up and turning to ash as she ripped their hearts out with her bare hands. Clenching her hands into tight fists, Buffy fought to steady herself as she forced large lungsful of air back and forth across her tender throat.

A wide grin spread across Wesley’s face as he watched Buffy gradually crawl back over to her bed, slowly pulling herself up into a sitting position as she clutched hold of the bed linen, pressing her face into the soft fabric.

Taking a step closer, Wesley knelt down next to Buffy. “I see that detaining you here is not only going to prove purposeful, but entertaining as well.”

Buffy stared at Wesley with cold abhorrence. “I’m going to kill you,” she hissed.

“Sure you are,” Wesley replied in a patronising tone, turning his back on the furious Slayer. “Do enjoy your new home,” he called out over his shoulder as he stepped out into the hall, not bothering to close the door behind him.

For a moment, Buffy just stared at the open door in utter dismay. Who would have thought that you could contain a Slayer in an unlocked room? Letting out a snort of disgust, she forced herself to her feet. If she couldn’t leave through the door, she would just have to find some other way out of this room.

Casting her eyes around the room, she took in every detail. She didn’t want to overlook anything that could be utilised as a weapon or a possible escape point.

It was a large room, tastefully decorated and sparsely furnished, presumably to minimise the possibilities of potential weapons. Apart from the bed, she noticed only a small entertainment unit positioned next to a hotel-style bar fridge, with a comfortable looking sofa resting a few feet away. All of the walls were bare except for one, where thick layers of material hid what she could only presume was a window. Wasting not a moment longer, she quickly ran over and pulled back the curtains, only to find the window completely bricked in, leaving no escape.

Letting out a sigh of disappointment, she continued exploring the rest of the room; to her dismay, she noticed that none of the furniture was made of wood, leaving her little to no chance of making any weapons.

The bathroom was huge, containing a large spa bath and shower cubicle. In the ceiling, another camera watched her movements. “So much for privacy,” she muttered to herself.


*-*-*-*-*-*-*

A wide grin bloomed across Wesley’s lips as he watched, via the security monitors, the Slayer’s explorations of her new cell. He chuckled as he watched her draw back the heavy drapes revealing a solid wall of brick before heading into the bathroom, and his amusement only grew as he watched her ransack the drawers and cupboards in the bathroom before stomping back into the main room, wildly looking around her sparse dwellings before continuing her rampage, upturning the couch and mattress before stomping over to the closet.


*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Buffy was shocked to see that all of her clothes from her dorm room were hanging in the closet; Wesley must have gone back to her room and collected them after he knocked her out. A cold chill suddenly ran down her spine. *What if Willow was there? Oh God, he could have killed her.* What had she done; how could she have been so stupid as to invite a vampire into her home? Her best friend could be dead, or worse, and it was all her fault. Finding new resolve, Buffy renewed her efforts to escape; grabbing hold of one of the plastic hangers, she broke it in half and marched back to the bricked-in window.


*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Wesley barked out a laugh as he watched the Slayer purposefully march over to the window; armed only with a broken plastic coathanger, she began to carve out the mortar holding the bricks in place. Once again, he was forced to commend the girl for her determination; she was certainly going to prove a handful.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Sweat dripped down her face as she continued to carve her way out; she was almost through. All she had to do was remove one brick, and using that opening she would be able to pull the others out without any fuss. With a triumphant sigh, she felt the brick shift. She had done it. Wrapping her fingers around the loose brick, she wrestled it free from the wall, only to discover a second barrier of steel plating behind the makeshift brick wall. She had to give it to Wesley; he had certainly done his research. He was probably sitting back right now, having a good old chuckle at her expense.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Wesley roared with laughter as he watched the Slayer’s shoulders slump in disappointment before she took the brick in her hand and threw it at the adjacent wall.


*-*-*-*-*-*-*

A sob of defeat ripped past Buffy’s lips as she stared at the shattered plasterboard concealing her true prison. Four walls of steel surrounded her, she just couldn’t see them; it was all a façade, nothing more than window dressing to lure her into the belief that she could escape. Crumbling to the floor in exhaustion, she stared at the demolished wall, trying to figure out her next move.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*

A satisfied grin spread across Wesley’s lips as he watched the Slayer collapse on the floor. She looked so lost and frightened, like a small child looking for her mummy in a department store. His demon relished in the thought that he could destroy the Slayer so easily. He had done this, succeeded in accomplishing what no one else had ever dreamed of; he had imprisoned the Slayer and turned the world upside down.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*

She had no idea how long she sat there; minutes, hours or days, it was all the same. It wasn’t like time meant anything to a person that has nothing but time on their hands.

She was so tired; the combination of whatever solution Wesley had injected into her and the painful jolts from the collar, coupled with her own futile escape attempts, had really taken their toll on her. Pulling herself up on shaky legs, the exhausted Slayer walked over to her bed; not bothering to pull back the ruffled covers, she climbed onto the soft mattress and gave in to the pull of sleep.


*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Feeling immensely pleased with himself, Wesley decided to head out for a bite to eat. Glancing once more over at the monitor, he took in the sight of the sleeping Slayer and decided that he was in the mood for something small and blonde tonight.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*


To say that her sleep was restless would be an understatement. Nightmares of her capture plagued her rest, leaving the Slayer fighting for her freedom over and over again. Somewhere in her subconscious, she felt the deadly presence of the three vampires as they entered her room, but she was unable to discern them from her vivid dreams.

She was fighting her way through the never-ending throngs of vampires; dust choked her lungs as she breathed in the endless shower of ash that fell from her stake. In the distance, she could hear someone screaming.

Pushing her way through a the sea of fangs and claws, she found herself standing alone in a dark car park; she could still hear the endless screams for help. Rapidly turning in circles, she tried to locate the source of the screams, but they were all around her, coating her with their fear and pulling her down as she started to run. She couldn’t see where she was going, she just knew that she had to get away, away from the screams; she couldn’t help them, she just had to run.

In the distance, she saw a light; if she could get to it, she would be safe. Everything was always safe and pure in the light; nothing bad could ever follow her there. Unseen hands moved within the shadows, reaching out for her, pulling her back into the dark, holding her down as he came closer; she could feel him now, standing behind her.

The screams were deafening, and they followed him like a shadow. Closing her eyes, she tried to block him out. She didn’t want to feel his hands on her, closing around her throat like a vice, choking the life out of her…

The room echoed with the sound of the Slayer’s bloodcurdling screams as she was woken from her sleep with a savage jolt. Tears of agony stung her eyes as she rolled herself onto her stomach, desperately attempting to flee an enemy she could never escape. The hollow sound of laughter filled her ears, mocking her as they shocked her again, savagely tearing an inhuman scream from her parched throat.

Doubling over in agony, Buffy madly clutched at her throat, desperately trying to stop the pain as it seared its way down her body, burning its way right down to her chest, making her lungs ache with every breath she took. She could still hear them, joking and laughing about the pain they had inflicted upon her.

Gasping for painful breath, she tried to crawl away from her tormentors; when the third jolt hit her, she found that she was unable to scream, the previous jolts having already severely burnt her larynx. This time, the damage allowed only a small squeak to pass her lips.

“I’m sure you all have a very good reason for entering this room and electrocuting our guest?” Wesley asked, anger evident in his voice as he stepped into the room. “Because I would hate to find that you took it upon yourselves to come all the way down here simply to assault the Slayer. The Slayer we are ensuring lives a very long life.” As he spoke, he started to walk towards the small group of vampires, snatching the remote from the hand of one as he grabbed another by the throat, lifting him several feet off the ground.

“W-we came down here to give her her meal, and she tried to escape,” the minion managed to choke out, despite the fact that Wesley was crushing his windpipe.

“Yeah. Yeah, we came in here, and she jumped us and tried to run out of the room,” a second vampire yelped in agreement.

Wesley glanced over at Buffy lying on her bed, coughing uncontrollably as she held her swollen throat, burn marks clearly visible from the jolts she had just received.

“If she was trying to escape, how did she end up all the way over there on the bed? Surely she would be over here by the door?” Wesley calmly asked.

“Um, um, s-s-she… W-we threw her over there when she tried to run past us,” a third minion replied, shuddering in fear when his master turned cold eyes his way.

“Well then, you obviously managed to overpower her, so why did you continue to shock her?” Wesley asked, levelling the minion with a cold stare.

The trio of vampires gave each other a nervous look as they tried to make up a convincing lie. “She-she tried to rush us again,” the vampire Wesley held by the throat, gasped out.

Wesley responded to this by tightening his grip on the vampire’s throat, feeling very satisfied when he heard the creature’s larynx and esophageus crack under the pressure. “Do you know what I think?” he growled at the trembling minions. “I think you are lying to me. Do you know what I do to my subordinates when they lie to me?” he asked, allowing his true demon visage to come forth as he tore the head off the vampire he held before slowly turning to the second minion. “Now, I’m sure you didn’t mean to lie to me, so let’s try this again, shall we? Why did you attack the Slayer?” he asked in a menacing voice.

“W-w-we th-thought it would be funny,” the cowering vampire replied as he watched his master approach him.

Wesley smiled at the vampire. “See, was that so hard? Don’t you feel better now you’ve told me the truth?”

The vampire nodded his head in agreement. “Yes, sir. I’m sorry I lied to you.”

Wesley took a deep, unneeded breath as he looked over at Buffy; she had tears in her eyes, and he could hear that her breathing was laboured. The burns on her throat were obviously quite extensive. “Now, about the matter of you and your soon to be dusty friend here,” Wesley injected, indicating towards vampire cowering in the corner. “I want you to look at the Slayer and tell me if you see anything funny.”

The vampire turned to look at the Slayer, seeing her cry as she gasped for breath. He did indeed find this very funny; however, he didn’t think that was the answer Wesley was looking for. “No sir, I don’t think she’s funny.”

Wesley looked over at Buffy. “Why don’t you find this funny? Look, the Slayer’s crying, and she is obviously in a great deal of pain, with all of this due to you. Why wouldn’t you find that amusing?”

“I don’t know, sir,” the vampire replied in a small voice.

“Well, maybe I should enlighten you on why you shouldn’t find this funny… YOU ALMOST KILLED THE SLAYER, YOU BLOODY TWIT! She’s only been here for one day, and you practically killed her with your oh so funny joke! Do I need to remind you why we have gone to all the trouble of capturing a Slayer and keeping her incarcerated? She is not here for your enjoyment! She is here to live a preferably long life so we do not have anymore Slayer problems! Now, if you kill her on the first day, we’ll have to start all over again... do you get my drift?” Wesley shrieked, producing a stake from his pocket and plunging it into the minion’s chest, watching in delight as the ashes fell to the floor.

Buffy watched as Wesley killed her second attacker, knowing that he would kill her just as quickly if the circumstances were different. The fact that he needed her alive was the only reason he was not laughing it up with the two former minions.

“How badly are you hurt?” Wesley asked as he walked over to where Buffy lay.

Turning tear-filled eyes to her former Watcher, Buffy managed to reply, “I’ll live. That should make you happy.”

“Yes, that does make me happy. I’m sure you’ll be as good as new in a day or so,” Wesley replied with a smile. “I feel that we can all take this as a learning experience. I am sure that you are not eager to feel that collar in action again, so I am in no doubt you will be very cooperative… Moreover, after the little lesson I gave to my minions, I am sure nobody will be likely to disturb you unnecessarily. Wouldn’t you agree?” He asked, turning cold eyes towards the last minion, still cowering in the corner. A wide grin bloomed across the former Watcher’s lips when the minion responded with a frantic head nod. “I like to think of it as a win-win situation,” he replied in a smug tone.

Buffy stared at Wesley in disbelief. Here she was fighting to get enough air through her badly burnt throat, and he was talking about it as a learning experience. “You haven’t changed a bit. You were an ass as a human, and you’re still one now.”

Wesley gave Buffy a menacing look and took a step closer. “And you, Miss Summers, are still an over-opinionated spoilt brat that has no idea who she’s dealing with. Just remember, it is not impossible to replace you; it’s merely inconvenient!” With that, Wesley stomped out of the room, leaving the severely injured Slayer alone with the snivelling minion.

Buffy watched the minion closely as he scrambled to his feet, for a moment he just stared at the two piles of dust littering the floor before running from the room in terror.

Closing her eyes against the pain and humiliation, Buffy rolled herself into a tight ball. Unable to comprehend how her life could take such a devastating turn in such a short period of time, the blonde Slayer gave up trying to be brave and cried herself to sleep.

---

Willow frantically paced the floor as she waited for Giles to answer his phone. “Come on, come on, come on, pick up.” She was worried sick about Buffy; she hadn’t seen her all day, and it wasn’t like Buffy not to check in. At first, when she’d arrived home the previous night, Willow hadn’t paid any attention to her friend’s absence, assuming that Buffy had gotten bored with studying and had decided to go patrol instead. However, when she awakened to find that the Slayer still wasn’t home, she started to worry; this worry quickly turned into panic when Buffy failed to show up for any of her classes. Terrified that something awful had happened to her friend, Willow couldn’t wait any longer; she had to find out if anyone else had heard from the missing slayer.

“Hello?”

Willow practically jumped through the phone when the Englishman’s voice interrupted her thoughts. “Giles! Have you seen Buffy?”

“Willow?”

“Yes, Giles, it’s me. Have you seen Buffy today?”

“Today? No. I spoke with her yesterday afternoon. She indicated that she was planning on spending the night in; studying, I believe.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought, too. But when I got home last night, she wasn’t here. I thought that she must have gone out for a quick patrol to blow off some steam, but she hasn’t come home. She didn’t go to any of her classes, either. I’m worried, Giles. What if something happened to her? What if she’s lying in a ditch somewhere? She could be hurt, and we wouldn’t even know,” Willow babbled, panic evident in her voice.

“Calm down, Willow. Have you phoned Joyce? Maybe she simply decided to spend the night at home instead of in the dorm,” Giles replied, trying to find a reasonable explanation for Buffy’s absence.

“I thought of that; I just didn’t want to alarm Mrs Summers if it wasn’t necessary,” she said in a small voice, hoping that Giles was right. Mother and daughter had been spending a lot of time apart; maybe Buffy was lonely and decided to spend a night with her mother. But that didn’t explain why Buffy wouldn’t tell anyone where she was, or why she’d fobbed off all her classes.

“I don’t think we have a choice in the matter,” Giles explained in a grave tone. “We need to know if Buffy’s alright, and Joyce has a right to know if something is amiss.”

“I know,” Willow agreed, taking a seat on the edge of her bed. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed something out of the ordinary; Buffy’s favourite weapon, Mr Pointy, was lying on the floor, and there was no way that Buffy would have gone on patrol without taking it with her. Walking over and plucking the smooth piece of wood off the floor, she stared at it for a moment, trying to figure out how it had ended up there. Buffy was always so respectful of her weapons, especially Mr Pointy. “Giles, I don’t think that Buffy’s at home,” Willow said, looking over at Buffy’s open closet.

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because all her clothes are gone,” the tiny redhead explained as she fought to hold back her tears.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*

Buffy opened her eyes and cast them slowly around the room. She knew that there had to be some way out of this prison; she just had to find it. There was no way that she was going to let a narcissistic fledgling vampire with delusions of grandeur and bad dress sense get the better of her.

She sat up slowly, squeezing her eyes shut against the pain that lanced through her body. The burns on her throat felt like an open blister that had been rubbed with salt. Unable to stop the impulse to soothe the tender flesh with a soft touch, she brought her hands up to her throat, only to encounter the rough feel of the collar, strapped around her neck as if she was nothing more than a dog! If she could just find a way to remove the stupid thing, she might actually stand a chance of escaping this place.

Reaching around to the back of her neck, she tried to find a latch or a catch—anything that might have a weakness. Fumbling blindly, she found a join in the collar where a small key lock was fitted. Hooking her fingers around the weak point, she channelled all her strength into tearing the collar from her neck, only to have the near-lethal device fire once more, knocking her to the ground with a short but extremely powerful jolt.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*

“So, G-Man, what’s with the emergency meeting?” Xander asked around a mouthful of cheesy chips.

Giles clenched his jaw in irritation; he hated it when Xander called him that. Casting his eyes around the small group gathered in his living room, he met Willow’s anxious gaze before glancing over at Joyce. They both looked so lost, trapped in their own worlds of worry and self-recrimination. Letting out an uneasy sigh, he once again turned his attention back to the oblivious boy and his, for lack of a better word, girlfriend, Anya. “Buffy’s missing,” he replied.

“What?!” Xander yelped, spraying crumbs all over Oz and Willow. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?” he demanded, jumping to his feet.

“Well, that’s what we would be doing now,” Oz pointed out.

“Well, does anyone know where she would have gone? Willow, did she say anything to you?” he asked, looking around hopefully. As the redhead opened her mouth to respond, an idea popped into his head. “What about Angel? Maybe she went to see him?”

“No, we already thought of that,” Willow replied with a small shake of her head. “Giles called him already…”

“And?” Xander asked anxiously.

“And he hasn’t heard from her. He’s just as worried about Buffy as the rest of us,” Willow answered, wiping a tear from her cheek. A small smile broke across the tiny redhead’s lips when Oz gently took hold of her hand, offering her his silent support.

“I bet,” Xander replied spitefully.

“He is, Xander. In fact, he’s on his way here right now to help us look for her,” Willow informed, silencing her friend.


*-*-*-*-*-*-*


“What do you mean, you’re leaving?” Cordelia asked incredulously.

“Just that,” Angel replied throwing another sword into the trunk of his car. “Buffy’s missing.”

“For all of a day! And you can’t leave. Not now. We have clients, as in real clients with real money, willing to sign a real contract.”

“Finding the Morrison’s missing cat isn’t a priority to me right now, Cordelia,” Angel argued.

“No, you would rather be running off to play unwanted hero,” Cordelia muttered under her breath.

“What?”

“Oh come on, the only reason you’re running off like this is because it’s Buffy. I know you two; you’ll run off to save her, only to find out that she didn’t want or need your help anyway. You’ll both get into a big fight, and I’ll be the one forced to watch you brood about it for the next six months,” Cordelia pointed out matter-of-factly, choosing to ignoring Angel’s furious scowl.

“Giles wouldn’t have called me if there wasn’t a problem,” Angel replied, slamming down the lid of the trunk.

“He didn’t,” she argued, placing her hands on her hips. “He just called to see if you had seen Buffy, and you went off all half-cocked.”

“At the risk of having my head bitten off, would someone mind telling me what’s going on?” Doyle asked in confusion.

“Buffy’s missing,” Angel replied, barely even taking notice of the Irishman.

Doyle raised his eyebrows in interest. “The Slayer?”

“Yeah, and now Count Von Broodsalot is running off to Sunnydale to save the day,” Cordelia injected.

“I’m not brooding! I’m concer…” Angel’s speech was cut short when Doyle unexpectedly fell to the ground. The dark-haired vampire was at his side in an instant. “What did you see?”

Taking a deep breath, Doyle pressed his back up against the wall. “This Slayer of yours… she wouldn’t happen to be blonde by any chance, would she?”


*-*-*-*-*-*-*


“What?” Xander asked, turning to look at his best friend.

“All of Buffy’s clothes are gone,” Willow repeated, filling her friends in on the day’s events.

“Maybe it’s another prank, like what happened before,” Xander offered, “She might just be out looking for her stuff.”

“I don’t know, Xan… Why wouldn’t she have called us, or left a note, or something? It’s not like her,” Willow replied.

‘Yeah, except for that one time,’ Xander silently mused, trying to wrap his brain around the latest information. “Why would she run away, though? I didn’t think that things between her and Parker were that serious.”

“No, I don’t think it has anything to do with Parker,” Willow clarified. “She didn’t take Mr Gordo.”

“What’s Mr Gordo got to do with this?” Xander asked in utter confusion.

“If she left—not that I think she did, but if she had—she would have taken him with her.”

“Who’s Mr Gordo?” Anya asked, wondering why Buffy would be upset about this Parker person if she already had Mr Gordo in her room. How many men did this girl want?

“This is Mr Gordo,” Willow explained, pulling a small stuffed pig out of her bag.

Anya crinkled her nose as she looked at the motley-looking toy. “Maybe she left it on purpose. She was probably worried that she was going to catch something from it.”

“No, Ahn, Buffy’s had Mr Gordo since she was a kid. Willow’s right, she would never leave it,” Xander explained, flopping deflatedly back onto the couch.

“Well, maybe she grew out of it,” Anya replied.

“No, Ahn, you don’t understand,” Xander said, silencing his girlfriend but offering no further explanation.

“You’re right, I don’t understand. Why would a Slayer choose to carry around a stuffed toy?”

“I could do a locator spell,” Willow chirped in.

“That would have to be the most sensible thing anyone has said since this meeting started,” Giles replied.

“I mean, it’s not like you could use it for anything. You couldn’t very well dust a vampire using a stuffed pig,” Anya continued.

“Ok, I’ll need a map of the area, some candles, and some sage water,” Willow listed off, plucking Mr Gordo off the coffee table. “We can use this for an anchor.”

“It’s not like you could even throw it at anyone; it’s too soft, so it would just bounce off,” Anya pointed out, oblivious to the conversation going on around her.

“Ahn, sweetie, enough with the pig, okay?” Xander said, placing his hand over hers.

Joyce sat in silence, watching with unfocused eyes as her daughter’s friends darted about the small apartment collecting the necessary spell ingredients. There was a time that she would have balked at the idea of witchcraft and demons weaving their way into the fabric of the world. Now she accepted them as simple truths. Nevertheless, as Joyce watched the small group set up for the spell, she couldn’t help but think that more should be done…

*-*-*-*-*-*-*

“Have you established which volumes are missing?” Quentin Travers asked as he surveyed the demolished stacks of the Council library.

“Not yet, sir,” Simmons replied gravely. “It would take me days to sort through this mess, even if I had a full team at my disposal. However, after the loss of so many members, I fear that it could take me months.”

“Months, it seems, would be a luxury that we no longer possess. You have until nightfall,” Quentin ordered, turning his back on the befuddled man.

For a moment, the young watcher just stared at the retreating form of his superior. He had been present when Wesley had stormed the building, only managing to survive by hiding behind one of the Council’s many library stacks and hastily concealing his whereabouts with the aid of a protection spell. For what had seemed like hours, he’d listened as the former Watcher and his minions murdered dozens of his colleagues; he’d been forced to keep silent as they begged for their lives, their screams of terror echoing through his head as they had their throats ripped out. And yet he lived, saved only by his own drive for self-preservation.

Picking up the heavy tome in front of him, Simmons grimaced in disgust as he wiped congealed blood off the cover before placing it in the growing pile of archived items. He understood the importance of his task, but he just couldn’t fathom the chances of him fully ascertaining which volumes had been stolen; the library was just too vast.

*-*-*-*-*-*-*

“I don’t get it!” Willow said, staring down at the unblemished map of Sunnydale. “It should have worked. I did everything right.”

“Perhaps you missed something,” Giles supplied, removing the spell book from Willow’s hands.

“No, I didn’t,” the tiny redhead retorted, pulling the book back out of Giles’ hand. “See, I did everything right!” she affirmed, pointing down at the open page.

“No offence, Wills, but you must be doing something wrong; otherwise, it would have worked by now,” Xander pointed out.

“But I’m not. I’m doing it just like the book says to!” the redhead insisted, frustrated by the multiple failed attempts to locate Buffy.

“Well, then, maybe the book is broken or something,” Xander quipped. “Maybe you should try another one--you know, one that works.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the book,” Anya rebuked, looking over Willow’s shoulder at the failed spell. “You just need a bigger map.”

“What?” Willow snapped.

“The map—it’s too small,” Anya replied nonchalantly.

“Of course! How could I have been so stupid?” Giles gasped.

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Anya muttered to herself as she once again took her seat next to Xander.

“Huh? What am I missing here?” Xander asked, looking wildly back and forth between his girlfriend and Giles.

Willow’s eyes widened as comprehension set in. “Of course!”

“Of course, what? What’s everyone talking about?” Xander repeated, still confused.

“The map, Xan, it’s too small. The spell isn’t working because Buffy’s not in Sunnydale,” Willow explained excitedly.

“Wait--what do you mean, Buffy’s not in Sunnydale?” Joyce demanded.

“Well, we don’t know that for sure; it’s just a theory. The fact that the spell hasn’t worked could be due to a number of factors. For example, Willow could be doing the spell incorrectly, which is very likely. Or Buffy could be dead; that would also result in a failed result. You see, you need to use silver nitrate if you’re looking for a corpse…”

Joyce’s shocked gasp was immediately drowned out by Xander’s loud shriek of indignation. “Anya! How could you say that? Buffy’s fine! She’s going to be just fine; we just need to find her.”

Suddenly sensing all eyes in the room upon her, Anya wisely decided to remain silent. She just didn’t get this whole humanity thing; why did people go through their entire lives never telling anyone what they really thought? She only spoke the truth; Buffy could be, and most likely was, dead. She was the Slayer, after all; it was a pretty fair chance that some demon got lucky last night and bagged himself a trophy. Was that really so hard to believe?

A quiet sob broke the silence, bringing everyone’s attention back to Buffy’s distraught mother.

“Joyce, I’m in no doubt that Buffy is in good health. We will find her,” Giles offered by way of comfort.

“And just what are you basing that on? All you’ve done for the last two hours is splash water on a map. My baby is missing, and so far, you’ve done absolutely nothing to bring her back to me!”

“Joyce, you need to understand,” Giles offered, trying to calm the irate woman.

“Oh, believe me; I understand more than you think!” Joyce snapped back. “I understand that, for the past three years, you’ve sent my daughter out every night to face creatures that you yourself shudder to face. I understand that you would rather place my little girl’s safety and well-being in the hands of her teenage friend, simply in the hope that she can fluke her way through a spell that is clearly out of her league. With all the power you and Buffy have led me to believe your Watcher’s Council has at its disposal, why haven’t you used any of it?! Do they even know their Slayer is missing? Or haven’t you bothered to call them? It wouldn’t surprise me in the least; after all, you haven’t even taken it upon yourself to call the police!”

“Joyce, you need to calm down,” Giles cut in.

“No! I will not calm down! I’ve been silent quite long enough, thank you very much!” Joyce retorted, refusing to listen to Giles another minute.

Willow’s eyes widened in horror as she watched the heated exchange between Giles and Joyce escalate. She had to do something; she had to make everything better. Quickly rushing over to Giles’ map collection, she grabbed the first one detailing all the states and provinces, intending to do the location spell again.

A small gasp of joy escaped her lips when, for the first time, a tiny light appeared over the map. “It’s working,” she whispered breathlessly.

At the sound of the redhead’s gasp, three sets of eyes turned from the arguing adults to watch the small amber light flickering above the map. At first, the light slowly floated across the creased parchment before rapidly flitting off in the opposite direction.

“Is it supposed to be doing that?” Oz asked, watching the light wildly zigzagging across the table, growing brighter with each pass.

“I don’t know,” Willow said in a small voice. “The book said that the light would just hover over the site.”

“Maybe it has ADD,” Xander joked uneasily.

“I don’t like the look of it; something’s wrong,” Oz replied, watching as the light grew brighter and brighter.

“I think you’re right,” Willow agreed, stepping away from the table.

“We should go,” Anya said, pulling Xander towards the door.

“Ahn, I think that we need to fix this,” Xander replied, watching as the light doubled in size.

“No, leave them. They can fix it, and I want to live. I’m only newly human, and I would like to learn how to enjoy it.”

“Ahn, don’t you think that’s a bit of an overreaction?” Xander asked.

“Actually, I’m thinking that it’s probably just the right reaction,” Oz replied, pulling Willow away from the light as it began to pulse, growing brighter and brighter, finally gaining the arguing couple’s attention.

“What on earth?!” Giles exclaimed, surprised to see the pulsing ball of light hovering above his table. “What the devil have you done?’’ he asked, taking in the shocked expressions of his young guests.

“Nothing!” Willow gasped, all the while backing away from the ever-increasing ball of light. “I just tried the spell again,” she offered by way of explanation, frantically looking back and forth between her mentor and the out of control spell, watching in horror as it grew brighter and brighter, almost blinding her before it finally exploded in a brilliant flash of light, knocking her and the rest of the group to the ground.

Pulling himself to his feet, Giles quickly checked to make sure that no one had been injured by the supernatural blast before fixing his gaze on the tiny redhead. Taking in her wide-eyed expression, Giles took pity on the girl. “What happened?”

“I-I-I don’t know…” Willow answered, shaking her head back and forth to reinforce her confusion.

Taking his glasses off with an exaggerated sigh, Giles lightly rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to will away the building headache before addressing the shaken girl. “Willow, you need to be more careful; magic is not something to toy with. You must understand that it can have dire effects on everything around you.”

“I know that, Giles, and I was—careful, I mean. I did the spell just like the book said to, and it worked. At least up until the part where it went all kablooey and blew up,” she explained.

For a moment, Giles creased his brow in thought. “That sounds like a counter-spell, some outside force blocking the magics.”

“Well, that can’t be of the good,” Xander commented.

“No, I would rather think not,” Giles agreed.

“Maybe we can trace the counter-spell,” Willow suggested.

“Hmm, perhaps,” Giles mumbled, lost in thought.

“What, are you insane? Obviously, the person responsible for that counter-spell is extremely powerful! Do you really think that they would just sit back and let you trace them without any repercussions?” Anya interjected in disbelief.

“Actually, I’m with Anya on this one. I don’t think that it’s a good idea to piss off someone that can make a mini-atom bomb out of thin air,” Xander replied.

“So where does that leave us?” Willow asked, looking back and forth between her friends.

“In deep water,” Angel answered, stepping over the threshold into the small apartment.


TBC…