A/N: Thanks to my wonderful beta, Eowyn315!!!



Buffy hurried down the sidewalk in the gathering darkness, turning her stake slowly in her hand as she tried to think of a faster way to find Willow’s lair. If a location spell would not work, there was nothing for her to do but comb the town in search of some sign of her former friend’s whereabouts.

It was a painfully slow way to go about things.

As she walked, her mind drifted to the recent images of the mansion Willow had lived in, in the world of her own creation, and she found herself wondering if the home actually existed in the real version of Sunnydale. She had only seen the inside of the building, so she had no way of knowing what its exterior might look like, but she did remember that it had seemed immense, with tall, lofty ceilings and sweeping marble halls.

*So…on the nicer side of town, then…if it exists…*

Buffy turned on her heel and headed in the opposite direction, toward the wealthier side of town. There was no guarantee that the mansion was not something Willow had materialized for herself out of thin air, no guarantee that it existed here at all. Still, it was more to go on than she had thus far.

It was a chance…and from what Buffy had seen of the vampire Willow had become, Spike didn’t have many of those left.

She made her way swiftly up and down several streets, with no success. Most of the houses she passed seemed occupied, lit from inside with a warm glow as the twilight faded into evening. Those that were dark seemed fairly normal as well, driveways empty, waiting for their owners to return home from work.

Buffy was just about to give up on the rather flimsy prospect, thinking that Willow could be anywhere, when a large home on the corner of the next street caught her attention. It was dark, no lights visible anywhere…but there was a car parked in the driveway.

*Too early to be in bed…so where’s the person who drives that car?*

As she slowed her pace and cautiously advanced up the walkway to the front door, Buffy’s apprehensions became full-blown alarm when she saw that the front door was partially open – just a crack, but more than was normal for anyone who had lived in Sunnydale longer than a week or two.

Unless, of course, the occupants of the house were no longer living.

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

“Do you think it worked?”

Jenny and Giles stared at each other as the last remnants of the spell faded away, and the room around them became quiet. Each glanced around, as if searching for some sign that their efforts had been successful…not that they would have been able to tell anything, anyway.

The only way to know for sure if the spell had worked would be to find Willow.

“There’s no reason why it shouldn’t have,” Giles pointed out. “And without her magic, Willow is just another fledgling. Buffy shouldn’t have any trouble with her now.”

“Assuming it worked,” Jenny reminded him dubiously. “And I’d feel a lot better if we could know for sure.”

“Yes,” the Watcher sighed, momentarily abandoning his determined attempt to be positive and displaying his very real fear for his Slayer’s well being. “So would I.”

The sound of the telephone ringing cut abruptly into the silence that followed his words, causing them both to jump. They simply looked at each other for a tense, apprehensive moment, wondering what the news on the other end of the line might be.

Of course, it was possible that it was not news at all; Buffy did not have a cell phone, though at the moment Giles was beginning to wonder why he had never invested in getting her one. He rose to his feet to answer the telephone, muttering under his breath.

“If it’s another sodding telemarketer, I’ll…” He cut off his threat as he raised the receiver to his ear and said tersely, “Hello?”

“Giles.”

“Buffy.” The Watcher’s attention was immediately focused on the call, and Jenny hurried to his side, her eyes wide. “What’s happened?”

“I’ve found her.” Buffy’s voice was a whisper as she gave Giles an address, and he hurriedly grabbed a pen from beside the phone and wrote it down. “Get here if you can, and any assistance – magical or otherwise – that you might be able to give me would be great.”

Giles frowned as he recognized the street Buffy had mentioned. “There are payphones in that part of town?”

“No,” Buffy whispered. “I’m already inside. I think they’re upstairs.”

“Buffy!” Giles’ eyes went wide with alarm. “You should have waited for us! Facing Willow is very dangerous for you, and quite frankly, I’m not sure you’re ready! How do you expect us to help you if she’s already won by the time we get there?”

“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence!” The Slayer’s sarcasm barely masked the slight trembling of her voice. “I can handle this, Giles. Without her magic, she’s nowhere near as strong as me. She’s just a fledge now…”

“You know very well that’s not what I’m talking about.”

Buffy was silent for a long moment, and Giles began to regret his frank words. “Buffy…” he hesitantly relented.

“Just get here.”

The click of the receiver being reset sounded very loud in the wake of her barely audible command, and Giles slowly set the telephone down, looking up at an expectant Jenny beside him.

“We’ve got to go,” he informed her, grabbing several items from the weapons chest before turning and heading for the door. “Now.”

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

Spike writhed in pain on the bed as magical flames licked at his chest, struggling to free himself enough to somehow smother them, but bound too tightly to move much at all. There was a small old-fashioned pitcher and washbasin, which had probably been intended as decoration, on the nightstand, and Willow lifted the pitcher and poured some of the water out, quenching the flames.

“Very good,” she praised her childe, smiling with pleased satisfaction as she set the pitcher down again. “Your aim’s getting a lot better. I think you’re just about ready.”

“Yeah,” Spike whispered, his breath rapid and shallow in his suffering, though he fought to get the words out. “Ready for what, exactly?”

Xander frowned at the question, glancing uncertainly at Willow as he ventured a response, “Well, that’s obvious. For Buffy. You know…to fight her when she gets here. Duh.”

“Ever think to…wonder…” Spike gasped out, his teeth clenched momentarily against a fresh wave of agony from his seared chest, “…what she’s got you…practicing flame-throwin’ for…if she means to keep Buffy alive?”

Xander’s frown deepened, and he turned his gaze expectantly toward Willow, waiting for her to explain or refute the blond vampire’s challenging words.

Willow laughed nervously, waving a dismissive hand. “It’s fire…and she’s not a vampire. It’s not gonna kill her, but it sure will stop her. And once we’ve made her one of us…” She gave Xander a disarming smile. “…none of her mortal pain will matter anymore. She’ll be like us…all brand new…forever…”

As she spoke, she crossed the room toward Spike until she was at his side. Without warning, she struck him across the face, her nails raking his cheek and leaving bloody trails in their wake. Her eyes narrowed in vindictive anger as she ordered, “Again, Xander. Aim right about…here…” She trailed a cool hand down Spike’s torso, resting directly over his stomach for a moment before she withdrew, giving her childe room to take aim.

Without hesitation, the fledgling obeyed, leaving Spike twisting against his bonds as a weak howl of anguish left his lips. Willow simply watched for a few moments, her hard eyes gleaming with satisfaction at the punishment for his subversive attempts. Then, she picked up the pitcher with a put-upon sigh and doused the flames again.

Leaning in close to Spike, she hissed, “I’d suggest you keep your mouth shut, if you wanna live to see your Slayer girlfriend again.”

“What?” Spike challenged her, though his voice was low and breathless with pain. “So I can watch you ambush her and kill her? No, can’t say I’m looking forward to that, Red.” He forced a smile to his parched lips as he amended, “’Course…since *she’s* gonna be reducin’ *you* to a big pile of dust…think I *will* stick around for the show.”

Willow’s smile tightened as she struggled to rein in her anger, her fingertips visibly itching to cast a spell she no longer had the power to perform. “Remember that little spell I did a little while ago, back when things were the way they’re supposed to be?” she reminded him in a soft, menacing voice. “When I took away your mouth? Wonder if Xander’s ready to try pulling that off. Of course…he might end up pulling something else off trying.” She shrugged, her eyes lighting up with wicked amusement as Spike’s widened with alarm.

“Or, you know,” she suggested matter-of-factly, turning away again, “you could just shut up.”

“Will…we’re not gonna hurt Buffy too much, are we?” Xander’s anxious voice drew Willow’s attention, and she did not quite manage to repress her irritated frown at his words. “I mean…she’s not a vampire but fire could still do some major damage – maybe even kill her, if we’re not careful, and I’m still not very good at this…”

“Sure you are,” Willow soothed him, pasting a smile on her face as she went to him and put her arms around him. “It’s all right. I already told you, Xan, we’re not gonna hurt her any worse than we have to…”

“Yeah…but knowin’ Buffy, I’d say you’ll have to hurt her pretty bad,” Spike spoke up again. “And knowin’ Red…I’d say she’s countin’ on it.”

“That’s it,” Willow snapped, though her smile didn’t falter as she crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the bound vampire. “Let’s try again, Xander. And this time, why don’t you aim just a little bit lower?”

Spike grimaced, deciding that he had officially pushed her too far as he steeled himself for the agony to come…except, it *didn’t* come. Instead, a soft voice spoke from the door, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. While it put an abrupt end to the torture game Willow had been enjoying so much, Spike’s heart still sank at the sound, because he knew what it meant.

“What is this? What’s going on here?”

Buffy stood in the doorway to the bedroom, her emerald eyes wide and stricken with horror, any attempt at employing the element of surprise forgotten in her shock over finding her friend not only in Willow’s company, but apparently on her side as well. Her voice was trembling with confusion and betrayal as she uttered his name in a hoarse whisper.

“*Xander*?”

The boy’s startled gaze focused on her, and he hissed, his game face coming to the fore in an instinctive reaction to the presence of his natural predator. But then, a moment later, the harsh ridges and golden eyes faded back to the smooth skin and dark eyes with which the Slayer was so familiar. His expression softened with affection, his lips turning up in a warm smile as he gave her a casual shrug.

“Hey, Buffy,” he greeted her quietly. “Welcome home.”