Chapter 2
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...
Chapter 3 Coming soon
