Author's Note
Harry: An image change was in mind, but writing about shopping is about as interesting as doing it, so you'll probably just see the end result. WhiteWolf: Fair enough. No-one's likable by everyone. I designed this Willow to contrast from the show one, at least the one we saw in the early seasons. LotRseer: Thanks. And yes, the other Scoobies find out in this chapter.

#4: File Under Non Fiction

Willow had been in too much of a hurry to check out the rest of the house before she left. Now she examines each room more carefully. The furnishings are more modern and utilitarian than what she's used to, but that isn't the part that's disturbing her. It's just too tidy. Way too tidy! Every surface is spotless, every item in its place, no clutter. Feeling uncomfortable in this 'showhouse', she returns to her double's bedroom. As different as it is, at least there's evidence that someone actually lives in it.

Seeing the assortment of clothes she'd casually thrown on the bed that morning when searching for something to wear, Willow sets about putting them away again, ruminating as she does so over her obvious image problem. The girl might as well have an archery target pinned to her. Then again she isn't exactly in a position to comment. They aren't her style, but if this Willow is comfortable in them, who is she to pass judgement? Still, it's more proof of her growing suspicion regarding the girl that she's temporarily displaced.

She's attracted to the bookshelves, but a quick scan reveals nothing to her taste. A few annotated classics probably from Lit class, back issues of Scientific American, a whole bunch of tech and programming manuals. Obviously computers are a large part of her life. She also finds a couple of Harlequin paperbacks hidden behind the manuals. Shrugging, she explores the rest of the room, but there isn't that much to look at. Old plush toys, various trinkets and paraphernalia that only her double would recognise the meaning of, art prints on the wall, some kind of crazy mobile of geometric shapes. She picks up the microscope and briefly peers through the lens before putting it back where she found it. Seems to be a working model. Stopping in front of the fish tank, she watches the tropical fish swimming around for a few seconds. She'd had a goldfish when she was younger, but they aren't the most inspiring of pets. Some photos are dotted around. It's weird seeing her face looking out at her from shots her memory can't match up. All in all there isn't much to connect this Willow with her own life. The only thing that might half fit in her own room is the red lava lamp on the dresser.

It's all adding up though. The clothes, the computer and science stuff, the stunned reactions of Gwen and Buffy when she asserted herself, not to mention the hints she picked up in her discussion with Mr Giles. Willow thinks about her best friend, the downward cast of her eyes as the taunts and ridicule of the so-called Elite sink into her mind, making her believe that she's nothing. And how many times has she had to intervene before the lashings became more than verbal? Her life here uncomfortably seems to fit into the same mould.

That settles it in her mind. She doesn't know how bad it is on this world, but before she gets her ticket home, she's going to make sure her twin doesn't have to live with that anymore. Quarter of an hour later, after practically ransacking the room, Willow eventually uncovers a stash of money obviously being saved up for something. It isn't an enormous amount, but it'll probably be enough for what she has planned next.

"I'm thinking about asking Giles to investigate Harman. Anyone that sadistic has to have demon blood in them somewhere," Buffy complains as she and Xander both trudge down a corridor. After having a surprise history test sprung on them last period, neither are in a great mood.

"Any chance we can prove he's related to Snyder? Then we can take out both of them," Xander says. He's convinced his carefully cultivated D average is going to be blown apart by a big fat F.

"Well... he is quite short," Buffy considers.

"Sounds good enough for me," Xander replies, quirking his mouth up a little as they enter the library. "Hey G-Man!"

Giles is surrounded by books. In fact it looks like half the library has been pulled off the shelves by a whirling dervish and scattered all around him. He stares intently at one volume, showing no sign of having seen or heard their entrance.

Buffy walks over to him. "Earth to Giles!"

Giles jumps. "B-Buffy. Um... shouldn't you be in class?"

"It's three o clock, Giles, school's over."

"Three o clock?" Giles repeats in disbelief as he checks his watch. He breathes out. "I hadn't realised I'd been researching so long." His stomach chooses that moment to sound its agreement.

"How long is long?" Xander asks.

"Well... since you left this morning."

"Ouch!" Buffy exclaims. "No wonder you're making Hellmouthy sounds."

"I've got a twinkie if you want it," Xander offers with a smile, pulling one out of his pocket. "It's a bit on the flat side, but it's all yours."

Giles looks at it. "The worrying thing is that I'm tempted. Definitely time for a break." He gets up a little stiffly and moves into his office. The clattering and rustling means only one thing. Tea and biscuits.

Buffy idly glances at the open pages and frowns as she reads. "Giles! What's a Jack... Jackal Iron Gate," she calls, struggling with the pronunciation.

"Jaquilerone Gate," Giles corrects, moving to the office doorway. "Um... theoretically it can er, open a rift in space, leading to other dimensions."

Buffy doesn't like the sound of it. "Hell dimensions?"

"Not all dimensions are necessarily... hellish ones. Ours isn't... well, mostly isn't."

"Giles, you're wigging me out here with all the jumpiness," Buffy tells him, knowing that something is up. Probably something bad. "What's wrong? Why would you need to open one of these gate things anyway?"

Fortunately the whistle on the kettle provides Giles with an excuse to avoid the question for a few more moments while he pours his tea. How is he going to tell them what has happened to Willow... their Willow, when he doesn't even know himself? He knows about parallel dimensions, but divergent quantum realities while sounding similar are actually very different beasts. Earlier in the day he had found a spell which may have helped. However a personal item from that reality was needed as an anchor for the spell and as only her mind has made the transfer, there's nothing physical to use.

And that little fact led him to the most mystifying part of this phenomenon. While physical travel between dimensions is possible, this kind of mental possession is something entirely new. It's possible that Willow is still in there, subdued by the more dominant personality of her double. Alternatively her consciousness may have been shunted to another plane. But if that is true, it will require someone far more well-versed in the arts than himself to reintegrate her.

"Giles!" comes Buffy's voice, pulling his thoughts back to the here and now. Cup and saucer in hand, Giles leaves his office and sees the demand in his Slayer's face. Putting his tea down on the table, he takes a breath and starts to tell her and Xander everything he knows.

Willow casually steps back into the school library just before five-thirty, finding the librarian alone. "Mr Giles," she acknowledges, seeing him studiously making notes from a large volume.

"Oh, er, hello..." Giles turns his head to face her, "Willow," he finishes after a pause, clearly surprised by what he sees. The change in her appearance is quite dramatic.

"I'm not really into floral skirts or fluffy pink jumpers," she explains, answering the unspoken question as she approaches the table.

"Well, quite!" Giles replies, his eyes moving back to the text in front of him before he can possibly be accused of staring. Her attire is certainly... different.

"I know it's probably too soon to be asking, but any luck?" Willow scans the spines of some of the books piled next to him. The bomb site that Buffy and Xander encountered has more or less been organised into specific groupings.

"I have found some passages which deal with divergent quantum realities, but I'm afraid they're all theory and unfortunately don't describe what we're experiencing," Giles tells her, disappointed with his lack of success.

Willow picks up a book from the smallest pile and narrows her eyes slightly at the paragraph she reads. "If this is the kind of thing you're looking at, I'm not surprised." Giles realises what she's looking at and in alarm tries to snatch it back. Willow's reflexes are fast however, pulling the book out of his reach. "A mind under this enchantment will be unable to distinguish fact from fiction," she reads out loud. "The product of the subject's imagination can be mistaken for memories of actual events." She looks up at the Watcher, annoyed with him all over again. "Nice diagnosis, Doctor Giles. So you think I'm crazy huh? Or that I'm just 'a product' of your Willow's imagination?"

"You have to understand that your story is rather hard to digest without some other form of proof," Giles tells her, although he looks embarrassed as he does so. Coming across that volume half an hour ago, he had seized upon a chance to prove that their Willow isn't lost to them.

"What the hell else am I supposed to tell you?" Willow spits out in a moment of utter frustration. "It's the truth!"

"And I shall be researching for that eventuality. But I would be a fool if I didn't entertain every possible reason for this phenomenon," Giles maintains. "If this happened to someone you care about, what would you do?"

Willow reins herself in, but glares at him. "Fine!" she says after a few moments. "But when you've finished chasing windmills, don't come cryin' to me if you find it's too late to do anything else." She turns and stalks off to the exit.

Uncertainty flickers across Giles' face. "Are you suggesting that there may be a deadline involved here?" he calls to her as she reaches the doors.

Willow glances back once before disappearing through them. "You're the Watcher. That's your job to figure out."