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[A/N: the title comes from new wave band Romeo Void, as do the lyrics. It just seemed to fit, so I used it. Standard disclaimers still apply, though I might have a better attorney than some *snickers.*]

Previously: the gang grieves and tries to go on with life, the school has discovered something is wrong with life in the Summers home; Giles has been summoned back to England. And life goes on . . .

6. A Girl in Trouble (Is a temporary thing)

there’s a time when every girl learns to use her head;
tears will be saved ‘til they’re better spent;
there’s no time for her to be afraid, so instead,
she takes care of business, keeps a cool head
a girl in trouble is a temporary thing
Romeo Void, A Girl in Trouble (Is a temporary thing) 1984


It was so much easier for her now. Not that what she was searching for was easy to find, just that she had so much more freedom to search for it. Giles leaving had been a really really good thing. In fact, she hoped he stayed in England for the rest of the summer. Willow sat up in the restricted book section of the Magic Box, looking for references to underworld gods. She’d been looking, researching for a way around using blood, but so far, nothing seemed to work. There was a pile of grimoires to her left, a note pad perched precariously on her knee, and an enormous book at her right, hieroglyphics scrawled across its cover.

There was no way around it, she was going to have to use the rites from the Egyptian Book of the Dead, with adaptations from other sources. And blood. She was going to have use blood.

Every ritual came down to one thing, using blood. She was about to tread down a path that she once thought never to follow. Willow glanced up as a customer entered the shop, her attention caught by the bell. Stretching out her sore neck muscles, Willow tried to block out all the misgivings and doubts that kept flooding through her mind. There was no way she could falter. Firmly pushing aside the doubts, she turned her attention back to the books strewn about her.

Preparation was key, and the list of supplies she was going to need was long and esoteric. Nothing on it, except for the garlic and water, were things she could just buy anywhere. Some of the supplies were going to come from the Magic Box, and she was going to have to search out via the internet. Time and money were her only constraints, especially now since Giles was gone.

That had been a huge weight from her shoulders, Giles’ return to England came at a fortuitous time. He’d been gone now nearly three weeks, and it didn’t look like he was going to be able to return anytime soon. Xander had been sworn to secrecy, though she still hadn’t told him anything of real substance. Dawn and Tara were still distracted with school issues, both girls now mired in summer sessions, and Spike was oblivious to her scheming. Anya had been giving her weird looks every once in a while, but she had been able to divert her attention. So far, everything was falling into place.

She’d ordered some supplies just this morning, using the Magic Box sources, but used her parents address. Now it was just a matter of putting the ritual itself together. This was going to be the time consuming part. Everything was going to have to be gone over more than once, and she couldn’t afford to be careless. Buffy was depending on her, even if she didn’t know it.

So far, the Egyptian Book of the Dead was proving her best source, but there were more than a few of the Celtic gods and goddesses that walked in many worlds, and could be called upon during the ritual. She just had to make sure everything was in place. Willow let her mind drift, wondering how long exactly Angel had been lost in the hell dimension Buffy had sent him to, and what had triggered his release.

If she could figure that out, this would be so much easier. Unfortunately, Buffy had not kept any notes, nor had she confided in Willow when that whole situation was going on. She’d tried to go through Buffy’s journal, but Dawn had started keeping the door to Buffy’s room locked, while everyone was out. Probably because she doesn’t want anyone to move things around. At least that’s what she hoped it was. She didn’t want to think it might be something else.

The truth, if Willow knew it, might not have made her happy at all.

************************** *******************************

Spike rolled over, unable to get really comfortable. It wasn’t that the bed was uncomfortable, it was more the extent of his injuries. Lately, patrol had gotten a bit harder, with rumors of the Slayer being gone circulating about, though he’d been doing his best to dispel them. Being in the company of the Buffybot drove him round the bend, but he’d started taking the damned thing out on patrol every night since Rupert had left. So for the last nearly three weeks, he’d gone out, with the bot.

Two nights ago, he’d taken a hard blow to his side, breaking a couple of ribs. The cailleach-oidhiche they’d run across had been particularly difficult to kill, since it had both arms and talons. He’d finally managed to sever its head from its neck, but not before the she bitch had gotten her claws into his right side. The cuts and bruises were mostly gone, but the broken ribs were taking a bit more time to heal.

Groaning into the pillow, Spike shifted his back, stretching the sore muscles. Her scent hit him, making him reel with the loss. When she’d gotten a glimpse of his side, Dawn had insisted on wrapping him up, and then settled him, despite his angry protestations, into Buffy’s room. Arguing that her bed wasn’t going to be comfortable for him, Dawn over-rode his objections, pushing him into the room. She’d made him sleep there for the last two days.

He’d tried telling her that it wasn’t right, that he shouldn’t be sleeping in Buffy’s room, but Dawn just shut him up. “Buffy would want to keep an eye on you. She’d be worried about your injuries” was what she’d said to him.

“Not this much, Nib, she’d’ve never let me sleep here. Probably would have put me in the cellar or some such.” Dawn had looked at him with her hip thrust out, and an eyebrow raised. She looked so much like Buffy in that moment, he’d almost laughed.

“No Spike, she wouldn’t have done that. Not now, not since Glory.”

He kept his mouth shut then, mainly because she had tightened the bandage around his ribs so much that for a moment the pain blinded him, but also because he had a feeling he wouldn’t win that argument. Buffy had been nicer, since he’d taken that god-awful beating from the hell skank, and she had trusted him to have her back and to watch over Dawn, so who really knew what was in her head those last few days? He surely didn’t, at least not completely, and he doubted Buffy had told Dawn everything. Spike figured that the two girls had talked some, but not enough.

And yet, here he was, sleeping in her bed. He made a promise to himself that once his ribs were healed, he was going to set up something in the cellar, so that he’d be comfortable in the day and still close enough to hear everything going on over his head. It was hard enough, being in this house all the time, memories swirling around. Confronted daily with the effects of his failure, Spike sunk deeper and deeper into depression. He had failed to keep both Summers girls safe. He hadn’t been able to save Dawn, and his failure had caused Dawn to lose Buffy. It was a vicious cycle he was unable to see his way out of, although he tried each day to come up with another way he could have saved both of them.

So far his favorite fantasy was instead of Doc being able to slip behind him and slice open his back he managed to grab the knife and slice Doc then pitch him over the side of the tower. Spike replayed that one over and over. Another one of his favorites was when he managed to grab a hold of Doc as he was sending him over the side and bring Doc tumbling down to the ground with him, crushing the spry demon beneath his broken body.

But nothing he did in his dreams consoled him. Because no matter how many different ways he came up with, no matter what scheme he thought of now, not one did what he most wanted. Nothing he could do would bring Buffy back.

Had he known someone was attempting just that, he might have been even more uncomfortable.

************************ *******************************

Xander was finding it hard keeping his promise to Willow. For the first time since they’d started dating, he had a secret from Anya, and it was beginning to bother him. He knew Anya could help them, she had so much knowledge but he also knew Willow didn’t want her to know. What he couldn’t figure out was why she wanted to keep everyone else in the dark. It didn’t make much sense to him, since everyone else was nearly as smart as Willow, and Giles was probably smarter. Xander knew he couldn’t compete with any of them in the smarts department, he had no self delusions in that respect. At best he could do grunt work and he somehow thought this wasn’t exactly going to be needed.

It made no sense, Willow wanting no one else’s help on this. He found himself biting his tongue a lot lately, ever since Willow had told him, especially around Anya. Not that he liked admitting it, in fact he preferred to pretend that his girl was just like everyone else and not over a thousand years old, but Anya knew stuff. Lots of stuff. Stuff he was sure would help Willow.

What he didn’t want to admit was that Willow didn’t want Anya’s help, for more than just her issue with secrecy. He tried to fool himself, thinking that it was just Willow being paranoid, but deep down he knew the girls didn’t like each other. Although, he had to admit that Anya tried, while Willow didn’t. It was hard to face, but his best friend didn’t like his girlfriend - fiance. And for the life of him, he couldn’t really figure out why.

Which was only one of the things that was bothering him. Why Willow didn’t like Anya, why Willow wasn’t trusting anyone but him with her plan, and why she wouldn’t ask anyone else for help. It made him feel like someone was always watching over him, like someone was following him. Xander didn’t like this. Something about this whole plan of Willow’s made him feel all. . . . it was like drinking milk that wasn’t good. Every time he thought of it, it made him more and more uneasy.

Xander had not a clue that things were about to get worse.





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