Chapter 2

Giles leapt up in his bed at the sound of knocking.  Scrabbling for his glasses he peered at the clock.  3.00 a.m.?  Who would be calling at this time?  He swung his legs out of bed and pulled on his dressing gown.  Yawning, he made his way downstairs.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.”

He pulled back the bolts and unlocked the mortice.  “Who is it?” he shouted before opening the door, pausing to grab his crossbow on the way.

“It’s us Giles. Willow and Xander.  Have you seen Buffy?”

Giles put the crossbow down and opened the door in a rush. 

“No, why?  What’s wrong?”

Willow shifted uneasily on her feet, looking anywhere but at Giles.  Xander nudged his reticent friend but she took no notice of him.

“Having woken me at this time would one of you have the decency to tell me why?”

“Willow.” Xander nudged her again.

“Erm….I think there’s a chance that she’s…erm…….what I mean is….”

“Willow; for the love of…..will you please just tell me what’s wrong?”

Willow took a deep breath.  “Well, I..I….you know all the books on magic in the library?”

“I’m familiar with them, yes.”

“Well, you know there’s one that you told me was very dangerous and to never open it?”

“Yes…”

“Erm…I opened it; just a little!  I didn’t mean to, I was looking for something about St Vigeous, I swear!  But then I maybe kinda possibly….did a spell.”  Her voice tailed off, eyes downcast to the floor.

Giles took a deep breath, the glasses dangling from his fingers as he tried to curb his temper.  The stupid little girl; he knew exactly the consequences that could arise from meddling with magical forces.

“Willow.  Think very carefully; what spell did you possibly…maybe…do?”

“I..I think it was a forgetting spell; it looked so easy and I just read it aloud, quietly…but I suddenly got an image of Buffy falling to the floor.”  A beat.  “Have I done something wrong?”

She looked so earnest, bottom lip quivering and eyes wide with fear.  Xander looked sheepish, no doubt having urged Willow on in her insanity.  Despite himself, Giles felt strangely proud that a mere girl could work such a spell, without training.  If indeed she had worked a spell.  It was always possible that Buffy was at this moment tucked up in bed and the three of them were merely indulging in flights of fancy. 

But no.  This was the Hellmouth.  Odds were that Willow had somehow called on magicks that affected Buffy in some way.  Nothing to do but research. 

“Look, you two go home.  I’ll go to the library and check out the volume you were studying.  The Magicks of Volataro, yes?”

Willow nodded. 

“Right, I’ll see you at school tomorrow.  I’ll pass by Buffy’s house once I’ve been to the library, but I don’t think it will serve any use to waken her mother at this point.  I suppose if there’s something wrong we’ll know soon enough.  If she is affected by the spell, I need to find out how before I can fix it, and if she is simply in bed – well, her mother wouldn’t understand the need for the school librarian calling at this hour.  Go home…and Willow – I trust you have learned your lesson?”

Willow nodded again, words trapped in her throat.  She promised herself that it would be a long, long time before she even thought about magic.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ ++++++++++

The girl’s nose tickled; she was lying on the ground, grass squashed beneath her and invading her nostrils.  She sneezed, the sudden sound and movement jerking her upright.  Looking down she surveyed the beauty of the male lying beneath her, her hand splayed on his muscular chest.

“Wow!  Is he with me?”

She gazed at his face, drinking in every inch.  His hair was kinda strange, but hot – peroxide blonde was so 80’s but it suited him.  His eyebrows were dark giving away the fact that the hair colour wasn’t natural if anybody even thought that.  She tilted her head to get a closer look at a scar on his left eyebrow; she wanted to lick it, the urge to do so almost overwhelming.  Her heart rate increased as she focused on his lips, so full and soft, moist and just damn kissable.  Unconsciously she leaned in towards him, licking her lips as she zeroed in on her target. 

Deep blue eyes stopped her in her tracks.

“Hey,” she muttered nervously.

“Ahem…hello?  Do I know you?”

The girl sat up, her hand still keeping contact with his chest.

“…ah...erm……I’m not sure.  I can’t remember!”

“Well, given our…..intimate…..positioning, I think we must.  And I do have a strange feeling of familiarity and well, I’d say loathing but that can’t be right!”

She giggled; he spoke in such a strange manner.  And the accent…

“You’re not American.”

“No kidding!  I’m English, and don’t laugh at me.”

“Sorry.  But you’re so cute.”

English guy almost choked.  “Am not! Take that back……..I mean look at my outfit!  Cute does not equal black leather and black nail varnish.  I’m bad to the bone.”

“Yeah, sure you are.  Come on, Big Bad.  As you don’t know who you are, and I don’t know who you are and I don’t know who I am and I’m assuming you don’t know who I am either….”

Her voice tailed off as she recapped the sentence in her head.  “I think that made sense….basically, as we don’t know who we are but we seem to be linked in some way, we need to get help.”

“And where exactly do you think we’ll get that?”

“I don’t know, but we can’t stay here.  Have you seen where we are?”  Her voice dropped to a whisper.  “It’s a freakin’ cemetery! What were we doing here?”

He dropped his eyelids to hood his eyes; the girl drew in a sharp breath as he curled his tongue behind his teeth and gave her a wicked smirk.

“Well, love.  Usually when a bloke brings a girl to a dark and dangerous place it isn’t to play cards with her.  Guess we were seeking some alone time…”

The girl felt herself blush.  But he was right; there was no other reason for the two of them to be lying entwined on the floor of a cemetery other than they were up to no good.   She smiled to herself, a hot glow flooding her tummy as she thought of the alone time she’d been spending with this rock god.  He was older than her, and though she didn’t know for sure, she suspected older than her usual boyfriends and way hotter.  If only she could remember his name….

Or her name for that matter.

“Ok, so we aren’t here to read the bible; I get that.  We must be boyfriend and girlfriend…….do you think?”

The boy looked at her earnest face and melted.  She was adorable, all worried in case he rejected her.  Yeah, he thought they were a couple.  They felt right, like they fit together, kismet and such. 

“I think.  But I can’t remember your name; shouldn’t I know your name?”

“I-I…shoot, I don’t remember my name so why should you?  Lemme see; I think I’m called ………….Cecily..”

“Ugh; are you sure?  Don’t like the sound of that, love. Don’t seem hardly right at all.  I think you’re more like a…Bunny!  Yeah, that seems proper.”

‘Bunny’ shot him a look questioning his sanity.  “And who are you?  Bugs?”

The blond god snorted.  “Nah, love.  Don’t think so. Something more villainous I reckon, bad like.  Maybe ……Spite?”

“That’s not even a name!  Are you sure?”

“Feels right; rolls off the tongue, don’t you think?”

Bunny watched as said tongue rolled out of his mouth and wet his lips, her eyes fixed on its moist, pink tip as it ran across his teeth to its final resting place all coiled up and ready to strike.

‘Think I’d like to be rolling onto that tongue…..’

“Well, I think it’s weird, but it’s up to you.”

“Says Bunny!”

“Oh, come on!  That’s what you’ve just named me; so if it’s lame it’s your fault!”

The two were now standing toe-to-toe, faces leaning closer together as they sparred verbally.

“Does this seem kind of familiar to you, this back and forth tagging….in a graveyard?”

Spite looked around himself, noting the lack of heebies the headstones engendered in him.  And Bunny was right; he did feel like this wasn’t the first time he’d stood in a graveyard trading quips.

“Dunno, love. Yeah…..I guess so.  Maybe we’re Goths, or maybe we’re doing it for a bet.  Maybe our friends put us up to it.”

Bunny pondered; it was possible.  She figured Spite was maybe in his early twenties; he looked all bad boy and stuff so maybe they were Goths.  She couldn’t really think of any other reason to be in a graveyard in the middle of the night.

“Oh!  Maybe my address is in my purse, I’ll check.”  She patted her pockets then rifled through her purse pulling out a battered notebook.  It was scrawled all over with doodles of what looked like fangs and hearts pierced with, well, they looked like wooden stakes.  Inside the front cover she found an address.

“Well, this may be where I live – 1630 Revello Drive.  Oh, and there’s a few names too: Willow, Xander, Giles.   What strange names…..and somebody called Angel.  Wonder who she is?”

Spite shrugged.  Digging deeper she found an actual wooden stake.  She held it up to Spite, her head inclining quizzically.

“What the hell are you doing with a piece of wood in your bag, love?  Some kind of self-defence thing?  It’s creepy; makes my skin crawl.”

“Don’t know, but there must be a reason.  Do you have anything?”

Spite patted himself down.  He pulled out a battered packet of cigarettes and a Zippo lighter.  Lighting up and taking a deep drag, he smiled.  “Well, seems I smoke.  Don’t have anything else though.”

“Looks like we go to this Revello Drive address then.  Must be some reason I wrote it down.”

Spite nodded in agreement.  He held out his hand to Bunny and she took it without hesitation.  God, she was beautiful!  If she was his, he’d definitely done something good in a former life.  And her hand fit in his perfectly, their arms swinging between them as they matched strides.  Yeah, they must be a couple.  Wouldn’t feel so right otherwise.

In contented silence, the two blondes ambled out of the cemetery and set out to find Revello Drive. 

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Giles was muttering under his breath, uselessly removing his spotlessly clean spectacles and polishing them furiously.  “Bloody idiot child. Expect such foolishness from Xander. But Willow?  Stupid.”  He clutched the offending volume from which Willow had inadvertently cast the spell under his arm having called at the library to pick it up.  The book had fallen open at a random page as he reached for it, the corner of the page crumpled as though gripped in anxious fingers.  It seemed the spell that Willow may have invoked was one with far-reaching consequences if she’d been successful.  He intended going home via Revello Drive and seeing exactly what kind of damage the redhead may have caused.  He decided it was worth risking Mrs Summers’ disapproval to make sure Buffy was all right.  As he rounded the corner he collided headlong into a couple.  The book went flying to the floor.

“Sorry!  Sorry – didn’t see you.”

Giles smiled as he recognized the accent; nearer to his own real one than he was ever willing to admit, it reminded him of home.  He was already on his knees clambering for the book so he tipped his head up in joyful anticipation of seeing a fellow Brit. 

“Buffy!”

The two standing over him looked at each other blankly.

“I’m sorry, do you know us?”

“Buffy, it’s me – Giles!”

A shy smile curled her mouth.  Giles.  The name in the book.  But he looked way older than she was; was he a creep?  She gripped Spite’s hand fiercely. 

“I’m sorry; I really don’t remember you.  Should I?  I think I’ve lost my memory and…….what did you call me?”

“Buffy.  It’s your name.  Buffy Summers.”

Spite snorted.  He murmured against her ear “It’s even worse than Bunny, love.  What was your mother thinking?”

“Shut up, Spite.  Oh!  Do you know him? What’s his name?”

Giles looked the man up and down.  He wore very strange clothing, lots of leather and his hair was extremely peculiar.  But no, he wasn’t familiar with him.

“No, I don’t believe I do.  Spite…was it?”

“Yeah, well – don’t rightly know.   We just kind of gave ourselves names.  Seemed to fit.  So I’m not with Bunny…erm, Buffy here?”

“Well, suffice it to say she hasn’t mentioned you, but it wouldn’t be the first time she’s kept me in the dark.”

“And you would be her……”

The question hung on the air, the blond young man’s tone definitely bordering on possessive as he curled his arm further around Buffy’s waist.

“I’m her…her…erm…school librarian.  She’s a very conscientious student.”

Buffy felt a warm glow run through her at the praise; but it didn’t seem right to her somehow.  Still, Giles must know; and if he was so pleased to see her they must spend a lot of time together.  And what else would they have in common to spend time on but studies?

“Can I ask you a question?”  Giles nodded.  “I found this address in my purse – do I live there?”

Giles scanned the notebook and nodded his confirmation.   “Yes, with your mother.  I suspect she’ll be worried that you’re out so late, Buffy.  Maybe you should be heading home.   I would like to see you in the morning, in the library.  Will you come?”

Buffy shot a glance at her glowering companion.  He looked fit to burst that she was talking to this man……this older man; sheesh!  What would he be like if she spoke to guys her own age? 

“Yeah, I’ll be there. If you tell me where there is.  I have a temporary memory deficit if you recall.”

“Oh, yes… of course.”

After giving her directions to the school, Giles pointed the couple in the direction of Revello Drive.  His attempts to separate the two when he offered to show ‘Spite’ to his own home was met with stony silence and a renewal of their gripped hands.  No, these two were not going to be split up easily.  Reminding himself that Mrs Summers was at home and therefore there would be no ‘funny business’ he allowed them to go on their way, making a mental note to ask Willow about the British stranger in the morning.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Willow was fast asleep and dreaming of squashed frogs with a smile on her face when the persistent tapping at the window drew her attention.  She sat up in bed, her hair a bird’s nest on her head and her bed socks hanging off the end of her toes.  “Huh?  Whassup...”

She slid off the mattress tugging her moo-cow jacket straight, fighting to keep her eyes open as she went to the door that led to the outside.  She was suddenly awake when she recognized the hulking figure of Angel leaning against the wall.

“Angel!  What do you want?  Ok, not polite……erm…what’s wrong?”

He turned his soulful brown eyes on her, hands hovering above – but never touching – his hair.

“Buffy.  Have you seen Buffy?”

Willow blushed, guilt and mortification stifling her voice.  Did Angel know she’d messed up?

 “Yeah, earlier.   Were you supposed to meet her?  I think she’ll be in bed now as you should be…….oh not that…..and you’re way older than……hey, Angel!  What can I help you with?”

“We didn’t make plans…….Only… Buffy usually stops by… erm, wherever I am actually, but I haven’t seen her.”

Willow fought the impulse to ‘fess up.  With a bit of luck any problem that Buffy had would be solved first thing in the morning and Angel need be none the wiser. 

“She…...she probably went home because we’ve got a lot of schoolwork.  She’ll be round tomorrow, I guess.”

Angel nodded.  Willow looked back over her shoulder thinking she heard a noise and not wanting her mom to find her talking to a boy in the middle of the night.  When she turned back, Angel was gone.

“That is so creepy, how he just melts away like that” she muttered to herself.  Pinning her hopes on either Buffy being unaffected by her spell or Giles making everything right, she huddled beneath the covers and screwed her eyes tight shut until she dozed off.

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