#1: Turning the Mirror
A high-pitched noise drills through Willow's head, shocking her out of a peaceful slumber. Flinging an arm over to her bedside table, she frantically gropes for the snooze button, growling to herself as she fails to locate it. Reluctantly cracking her eyes open, she scans the table for the offending item and puts a stop to the incessant shrill with a sharp bang of her fist. She pulls herself up, blinking the excess sleep out of her eyes. Mornings are as evil as any vampire.
It takes a moment in the peace of silence for the sight to register, but when it does she furrows her brow curiously at the small analog alarm clock staring back at her. Who put that there? Then turning her head, her eyes widen as she takes in her surroundings. Jumping out of bed as if it were on fire, she paces around the room, taking in the decor and furnishings but finding nothing familiar at all. Where is she? This isn't her room. She's certain of that for the next ten seconds, until she stops in front of the french doors. Looking outside, she recognises the scene before her. The same scene that greets her every morning in fact. This doesn't make any sense. Whipping around, she examines the room again, a little more carefully this time. Okay, the doors are in the right place... the shape...
A chill runs through her as she realises this is her room. It just hadn't seemed like it because everything else is different. She steps over to the computer desk, touching the VDU like it's an alien object. Okay Willow, think! What the hell is going on?
Hell! Huh, well there's her answer. Then again furniture transmogrification is pretty tame for ol' Boca Del Infierno. Forcing herself to calm, she scans the room for a phone, hoping she still has one. Spying it on the bedside table, she rushes over and taps in a number from memory, sitting on the edge of the bed as she waits for the pick-up.
"The cellphone you have dialled is unavailable," a recorded monotone drones. Willow tenses. Hitting the cut button, she dials again but gets the same response. Something's wrong, he never turns it off. She places the receiver back down into its cradle and absently brushes her hair out of her eyes with a hand. She needs to find him right now! Biting her lip, she stands up again and moves over to the wardrobe, standing against the opposite wall her own used to be on. Pulling the door open, she reaches for a shirt, only to pause in bewilderment as she examines its contents. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a mirror on the inside of the door. A strange kind of intuition tells her not to look into it, but she pushes the feeling aside. This can't get any weirder.
As she slowly tilts the mirror towards herself though, she realises it can.
