Chapter 1: Warning Signs

“Coffee!” Willow chirped as she entered the Magic Box carrying two cardboard trays. She passed around to-go cups from the Espresso Pump to Xander and Anya, leaving two more on the table. “Hot chocolate for Dawn.” She handed the younger girl her beverage.

“What took you so long, Will?” asked Xander.

“There was this incredibly annoying guy ahead of me.” She took a sip of her own coffee, made a face, and took the lid off to add cream and sugar. “I really thought the girl behind the counter was going to shove a baguette down his throat.” She shrugged. “Too bad she didn’t. It promised to be amusing.” She glanced over at the training room. “Buffy and Tara still at it?”

“Your girlfriend has more stamina than Xander,” Anya said from her usual perch behind the cash register, where she was flipping through Modern Bride magazine. Xander looked slightly perturbed at this observation.

“So, you know that coffee table I wanted?” Willow took a seat at the research table with Xander and Dawn. “My nice, cheap table from Ikea? They wanted $350 for shipping!”

“Are they shipping it from Sweden?” asked Anya, tilting her head to the side and examining a photo spread of a wedding dress.

“That’s what I wanna know!” Willow said. “Three hundred and fifty dollars!” She looked to Xander for sympathy.

Which Xander was more than willing to give, but he was also able to read between the lines. “All this is a long-winded way of telling me you want me to build you a table, isn’t it?”

“It’s either that or driving all the way to L.A. just to buy furniture.”

“Will…”

“Please? Pretty please?”

Xander shook his head. “I dunno, Will. Anya’s got me building a freakin’ gazebo for the wedding.” He shot a glare in his fiancée’s direction, but she was so preoccupied with her magazine that she didn’t notice.

“It’s elegant,” Anya replied without looking up. “And it’s not like we’ll be having a church wedding. Half the guests wouldn’t be able to touch anything for fear of being incinerated.”

“Where would you put a gazebo?” asked Dawn.

“Right now, it’s looking like your backyard, kiddo,” Anya told her. Dawn raised her eyebrows. She wondered if the ex-demon had run that by Buffy yet.

“Hey, Ahn,” Xander started, sparked by the incineration comment. “You think maybe we could talk about the number of demons you’re expecting at this wedding? I mean, my family’s not exactly the most open-minded…”

*****

“Psst! Spike!”

Spike turned away from his place at the bar and looked at the demon trying to get his attention. “Clem?”

The flop-eared, saggy-skinned creature made a surreptitious gesture beckoning him. Spike stopped himself from rolling his eyes, because Clem was the closest thing he had to a friend. With a nod to Willy that procured him another blood-and-bourbon, Spike left the bar and took a seat at Clem’s table.

“What is it, Clem?”

Clem glanced around, presumably looking for eavesdroppers, and then leaned across the table towards Spike. “Listen, I’ve got some advice for you.”

“What?”

“Get out of town.”

Spike just looked at Clem, starting to lose his patience. As if he needed another reason to leave town. Having his heart smashed to smithereens on a weekly basis by the resident Slayer wasn’t enough, apparently. “Why?”

“I dunno, dude. Just something I heard.”

“From who?”

Clem shifted in his chair. “I don’t know.”

Or wouldn’t say. That was bloody useful. Could you vague that up a little? Spike thought bitterly. Then, he rolled his eyes at himself. Look at him, starting to talk like a Scooby. “Piss off, Clem.”

Clem didn’t leave – perhaps because it had been his table to begin with, not that Spike was concerned with that sort of propriety. “Look, Spike, I’m just trying to –”

Spike growled and vamped out. Clem jumped backwards, nearly falling out of his seat.

“Hey! Don’t kill the messenger, Spike!”

“Oh, why the hell not?” He shook his demon face away and sighed. “Sorry. Bit on edge lately.”

“As well you should be!” Clem leaned forward again, speaking in a confidential tone. “I think someone might be trying to kill you.”

Spike snorted. “Who’s not, these days?” He pushed his chair back and left the table.

*****

The doorbell jingled as a customer entered the shop. “Welcome to the Magic Box!” Anya greeted him cheerily. “Please let me know if I may be of assistance in the spending of your money.”

The customer – a tall, attractive man in his mid-forties – nodded with an amused grin. “Thank you,” he replied, running a nervous hand though his curly salt-and-pepper hair. He was well dressed – a businessman in a three-piece suit. Not the usual Magic Box clientele. “Actually, I need a – this is going to sound ridiculous – I need a magic carpet.”

“Like Aladdin?” asked Xander. “Genie and the lamp kind of thing?”

“Not a flying carpet, a magic carpet,” Anya scolded him.

Xander looked confused. “What’s the difference?”

“When a magic carpet is made, it’s bestowed with a magical focus,” said Willow. “It helps you do spells.”

The man nodded, looking from Willow to Anya. “Do you know where I could order one?”

“Here.” Willow ripped a piece of paper out of her notebook and scribbled something down. “The Eye of the Cat does them, custom made.” She handed him the paper. “That’s their website.”

“Thanks.” He seemed relieved that his request had been received without mocking. He extended his hand to Willow. “I’m David. You seem pretty familiar with the magicks. Are you a practitioner?”

Willow gave him a modest smile and shook his hand. “Willow. I dabble.”

“Will!” said Xander. He turned to the inquisitive customer. “Don’t listen to her. She’s a first-rate witch.”

“Is that so?”

Willow blushed. “Well, I – I mean, I’ve pulled off some big stuff, you know, in a clinch, but I can’t always control… Sometimes things go wrong.”

“Like what?” he asked. He seemed genuinely interested, which startled Willow. She wasn’t used to discussing her magic with anyone other than the Scoobies.

“Like…” She sighed. “Not too long ago, I tried to do an anti-love spell, and it kinda backfired and the two people involved ended up, you know…”

“Utterly besotted?” David said. “That happens sometimes. Best way to keep an anti-love spell from reversing on itself is to use black walnuts.”

“Black walnuts. Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.” Willow smiled and blushed again.

“Can we help you find anything else today?” As much as Anya enjoyed magical conversation, she’d much prefer it if her customers would spend money in the store.

“I’ve actually got a list here – looking for some supplies.” David pulled a folded piece of paper from his breast pocket and handed it to Anya.

She read over the list and nodded approvingly. “Mmm-hmm, yes, of course,” she said, scurrying from shelf to shelf, selecting the items he needed.

“So, you seem pretty into the magicks yourself,” said Willow.

David smiled at her. “Kind of a secret hobby. Doesn’t go over too well in the boardroom.” He glanced down at his clothes in explanation. “But my mother was a Wiccan, so I learned a lot of it from her.”

“This eruzile,” said Anya, “did you want the incense or the oil?”

“Ah, incense,” responded David, picking up a large stone and examining it.

“Eruzile is used for compelling spells, isn’t it?” Willow asked, narrowing her eyes a little.

“You really do know your stuff. Yes, my son is having a little trouble focusing on his schoolwork these days. I was hoping to give him a bit of, erm, encouragement.” He gave Willow a self-indulgent “surely you understand” look.

He glanced back at Anya and held up the stone he’d been looking at. “Is this an Osiris stone?”

“Oh, not a real one,” she told him. “That’s just an imitation. We keep the real ones in the glass case. Would you like one?”

“Yes, please.”

Anya nodded, going back behind the counter to unlock the case. “They’re somewhat volatile. Be very careful not to drop it. Or set it too close to the blood of a slaughtered animal. In fact, I’d keep it away from any raw meat, just to be safe.”

“Will do.” David chuckled and handed Anya the cash for his purchases. “Thanks so much. And good luck with your spells,” he said, winking at Willow before grabbing his bags and heading out the door.

“Thank you, please come again!” Anya called after him. The bell jingled again as he left, and this time it caught the attention of Buffy, just coming out of the training room. “Is someone here?” she asked hopefully.

“Customer,” said Anya. Buffy’s face fell.

“Still no Giles?” asked Tara, following Buffy and looking a little worse for wear. “Because I for one can’t wait until he gets back.” She plopped down next to Willow and reached for one of the extra cups of coffee. “Training the Slayer’s hard work.” She poked Xander. “Your turn tomorrow.” He just groaned in response.

“I appreciate it, you guys,” Buffy told them.

“You should get Spike to train with you,” Dawn said.

Buffy’s eyes flashed with anger. “Dawn…”

“He’s stronger than any of us. Even if he can’t hit you, he could still –”

“Dawn!” Buffy’s hand went up to her forehead to conceal her watery eyes, and she looked dangerously close to a breakdown. “We’re not talking about Spike, okay?” She hadn’t spoken to the vampire since she ran out on him the other day. He’d been gone by the time she got home from work, and they’d managed to avoid each other when she went out patrolling.

She hadn’t told anyone about the dream – or the make-out session that had preceded it – but none of the Scoobies questioned her reasons for cutting Spike out of the group. They just assumed she’d gotten fed up with his cagey behavior about Jacob. Willow, at least, knew about the love spell, but the way it had gone horribly wrong gave Buffy enough reason, in the witch’s eyes, to be uncomfortable around him.

Buffy paced around the shop, the tension she felt seeping into her facial expression. She needed Giles. She needed him to be here. “He should be back by now, don’t you think?” She looked at each of them in turn. “Don’t you think Giles should be back by now?”

“Maybe it’s a good thing,” said Willow. “Maybe he’s getting lots of info from his wizard friend, and he’ll have something useful for us when he does come back.”

Buffy sighed. “I just don’t have a good feeling about this. I can’t help thinking that something bad is about to happen.”

“Hello?” Xander replied. “It’s Sunnydale. Something bad is always about to happen.”

Buffy shot him a glare. “Not helpful.” She stalked around the room and kicked at one of the bookshelves displaying merchandise. “I want Giles to come back.”

They all glanced at the door as Giles burst in. Buffy looked down at her kicking foot with interest. “Huh.”

“I’m sorry I took so long.” Giles dropped the bag he was carrying and shrugged out of his coat. “I had to do some investigating.”

“So, what did you find out?” asked Buffy. “Was your wizard guy any help?”

His face clouded over. “No. He was dead.”

The others gaped at him in shock. “Dead?” Tara repeated.

“Like, dead dead, or like, Buffy dead?” Xander clarified. “Cause I bet we could –” Willow smacked him on the arm. “Ow.”

“What happened?” asked Buffy.

Giles sank down in a chair and took off his glasses, rubbing his hand over his face. “I don’t know. When I arrived, there was no one at the house. The place looked as though it had been ransacked. While I was looking around for any sign of Robert, someone set the place on fire.” He opened his bag and brought out two texts, several notebooks, and a few loose pages that appeared to have been singed. “I salvaged what I could, but I don’t know if it will be helpful.”

“Are you sure he’s dead?” asked Tara. “Maybe he just…”

“No,” Giles replied. “I know for certain.” He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out what looked like an autopsy report. “He was killed – murdered – and then his house was burned, presumably to prevent any of his work from falling into our hands.”

Willow reached for the autopsy report and starting looking over it. “Limbs severed at the… Disembow – oh, eww. Who would do this?”

Giles put his glasses back on and ran one hand through his hair. “Someone who desperately wanted Robert’s knowledge to remain a secret.”

“Not to mention someone with kind of a sadistic streak,” Xander said, looking at the autopsy report. “We’re talking big hard-on for bloodshed here.”

“So, who do we know who fits that description?” asked Anya.

Just then, Spike walked in the door, stopping short at the sight of everyone gathered around the research table staring at him.

Buffy jumped up from the table so suddenly that she knocked over one of the coffee cups. “Shit!” The others all scrambled to save the research materials from the expanding puddle of coffee, while Tara and Anya scurried off to get paper towels.

“I’m sorry, Will,” Buffy said, collecting papers off the table. “I’m a spaz.”

“No, it’s my fault. I should’ve put the lid back on.” Even though it was too late now, Willow looked around for the lid to her cup, but couldn’t find it anywhere.

“Am I interrupting something?” asked Spike. He glanced at Buffy, but she turned away from him and focused on the stairs leading to the upper level.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, Deadboy, you’re not welcome here,” said Xander.

“Shop’s open for business, innit?” He held up a $10 bill. “I’m a paying customer.”

*****

“Look, it’s complicated, Bit,” Spike said as he walked the younger Summers home from the magic shop. He’d gone in looking for burba weed, hoping Buffy wouldn’t be there, but no such luck. Their interaction had been uncomfortable at best, and he’d jumped at the chance to take Dawn home, glad of the excuse to make a hasty exit.

Should have just gone in through the basement and nicked it, saved himself the headache. But he supposed some part of him wanted to run into the Slayer. They had to do it sometime, didn’t they? The first meeting since That Day. They couldn’t avoid each other forever.

Of course, he’d been hoping it’d go a little better than that. She, apparently, was relying on the blissful ignorance this town so heartily embraced, and was going to pretend like she hadn’t been ready to shag him senseless before her stupid slayer dreams reminded her that Slayers and vampires shouldn’t be together.

Not that the ignorant act helped. Because he knew – and she knew that he knew – he’d tapped into her darker urges, he’d seen beneath that hardened slayer exterior, where she clearly harbored some pretty intense feelings for him. She’d been so close to admitting it, damn it, until that dream set her off on her whole “this is wrong” song and dance. Now she was all boarded up again, emotions withdrawn inside her, locked away where she didn’t have to deal with them, didn’t have to make the hard decisions.

“But you still love her, right?” Dawn tugged on the sleeve of his leather duster, bringing him back to the present.

“Course I do.” He stuck a cigarette between his lips and lit it.

“And she loves you.”

Spike blew smoke out his nose. “Only she knows for sure, pet.”

“And you’re just going to let a stupid dream screw that up?” Dawn went on as if he’d just said yes.

If only Buffy could see things as simply as her sister. “Slayer takes her dreams very seriously.” He fought back the bitter thoughts about Angel that were surfacing in his mind.

“Just because some of her dreams turn out to be prophetic –”

“Dawn!” Spike hissed, suddenly on edge as his senses picked up vampire activity nearby. He grabbed her by the arm and pulled her close to him, scanning the surrounding area. Nothing in sight, but Clem’s warning lingered in the back of his mind.

“What is it?” Dawn was frightened by his change in demeanor. He released his grip slightly, but doubled his pace as he started walking again. Dawn had to run to keep up with him.

Suddenly, several vampires jumped out of the bushes into their path. Spike pulled Dawn in an about-face, only to discover that they were surrounded on all sides by at least twenty vamps, far more than Spike could fight off alone. Dawn screamed and clutched Spike’s arm as the vampires closed in on them.