With one more glance at my silent house guest who still sat on the floor by the fireplace, I pulled the rug up from the floor. With a practiced ease from years of repeated movement, the carpet square settled back to reveal the trapdoor to the subbasement where I housed my magic workshop. I had invited Buffy into my home, but I wasn't real comfortable inviting her into my work space just yet. That would require a bit more trust. I threw a promise to return shortly and headed into the chilled darkness. Hopefully, Buffy would stay put. Given how comfy she looked with Mouse, I didn't expect the girl to follow me.

The sudden chill of the subbasement weaseled into my body as I descended into the darkness. With a little concentration, a number of candles flickered to life on my workbench and on the shelves. Too bad I couldn't dismiss the chill as easily as the darkness. In my haste, I had forgotten to grab my robe which would have helped with the temperature. Oh well. I would remember next time.

I headed towards the shelves and rapped on top of the bleached human skull that sat beside a couple of dogeared romance novels and a wind up toy in the shape of a chattering penis that I had been forced into giving Bob as part of some idiot bribe. I suspected he just wanted me to experience the embarrassment of searching for the anatomically incorrect toy more than he actually wanted the thing. A promise was a promise though and so Bob was now the proud owner of a plastic wind up toy that for some reason was constantly being sent across the floor by my currently absent apprentice.

I grimaced as I thought about Molly. Although I wasn't about to admit it to the Council since I was supposed to be closely watching over her, I had given her a bit of a furlough to spend time with her family. Guilt stabbed at my gut. No matter what anyone said, I still felt like her father's near death injury was my fault. I expertly compartmentalized my feelings about Michael Carpenter into a box marked don't open until Christmas. Hopefully, Christmas a few decades from now. I needed to concentrate on something I stood a chance of fixing.

If I had looked in a mirror at this moment, I would have noticed that the expression in my eyes actually appeared a lot like the haunted expression in the green eyes of my house guest upstairs. Since I am not inclined to over analyze my reflection, I missed the opportunity to discover at least a bit of the reason I felt so strangely connected to the young girl. We had more in common than either of us realized at the moment. We both carried more than our fair share of responsibility for the world.

"Wake-y, Wake-y, Bob," I called as I rapped once more on the skull. "I've got a pretty puzzle for you," I offered in a tone that hinted at the puzzle being of particular interest to the spirit housed in the bone artifact.

"Is it one of those perverted puzzles of naughty naked women?" Bob inquired as pinpricks of light illuminated the eye sockets of the skull.

I grinned. I was expecting him to say something like that. It's always good to be right.

"No, Bob," I replied with a hint of a laugh in my tone. "This would be a real woman."

"Well, what good does that do me? Not like she'd be naked and naughty with you. The puzzle would be better. Might give us both something to appreciate."

"Too late. You missed it. Already saw her in all her glory," I replied with a smirk that was more to defend myself and my decided lack of a starring role romantic lead in my life to the annoying knowledge spirit than to actually crow about having seen my pretty visitor in the buff. Huh. Buffy in the buff. I chuckled. I couldn't help myself. And who named their kid Buffy anyway? Buffy the vampire slayer. Not exactly a moniker to inspire fear.

"Now you're just pulling my leg," Bob whined.

"You have no legs, Bob," I reminded my companion.

"Oh sure, make fun of the non-corporeal. You put tacks on wheelchair seats for fun too?"

I sighed as I pulled a book I might have conveniently borrowed without asking from Council resources. I glanced at the title, Time and Space, and wondered if it might be at all helpful. I frowned as I stared at the table of contents. I really hated theory books. I tried to remember why I liberated it in the first place. I tossed it back to the shelf. I probably did it just to cheese off Morgan. I doubted it would have anything useful in it anyway. Bob was sure to know more than the author anyway.

Thinking of Morgan made me frown even more. I glanced towards the trap door. I hoped I could figure out a solution to my lost guest without having to seek additional support. I might have been forced into wearing a Warden's gray cloak and I might have even recently at least peaked the interest of Anastasia, the previous captain of the Wardens, but, and this is a big but, I still don't trust the White Council. They had been the bad guys to my good for too long for me to really feel comfortable with my place in their midst.

Hoping Bob might have a solution that didn't require me to approach anyone I didn't trust, I outlined what little I knew about my pretty puzzle upstairs.

"So she really flew into your arms naked?" Bob reiterated in a tone that conveyed the leer he could not really manifest. Go figure. Rampant destruction of vampires, averted necromantic rituals, and the strange defection of my faithful dog fail to impress Bob. Instead, he centers on the attractive naked girl part.

"Focus, Bob."

"Harry, you're hopeless."

"So give me some hope, Bob. Help me out. How do I find where she belongs and return her home?"

Bob was silent for a moment as I imagined he rifled through the overflowing filing cabinets in his metaphysical library otherwise known as his mind.

"Finding where she belongs is easy," he told me. "Just takes a simple inhalant potion. Once we know where she belongs, we can figure out how to send her there."

Bob rattled off a couple common ingredients that I had readily available. Nothing extravagant like uranium or fairy dust which I will deny having on the grounds that it makes me seem a bit more than a little touched. Doesn't mean I don't have them; just that I am not admitting to them. I quickly pulled seven ingredients, one for each sense plus one for the mind and one for the soul off the shelves. It didn't even require cooking and stirring for hours. Bob was right. The location potion really was a simple spell. Like beginner level even. Possibly before beginner if there was such a thing. After carefully measuring the couple grains or essences of each ingredient and mixing the dry particles in a tiny vial, he told me I would need to snort it instead of the normal ingestion or skin contact and then take a look at my guest. As I headed for the steps, Bob asked that I take him along so that he could help interpret whatever I saw.

Skull in one hand and vial in the other, I clamored gracelessly from the subbasement and back to the relative warmth of my apartment. I say relative because the fire had pretty much died to coals and the place wasn't exactly seventy-two degrees. Compared to the overwhelming chill of my workshop though, it felt nice.

My arrival drew the attention of Buffy and Mouse who were both still cuddled together on the floor in front of the fireplace.

Buffy frowned when she noticed Bob.

"You aren't gonna start calling me Horatio and whining about kissage on dead Yorick lips are you?" she asked with a hint of real concern in her eyes.

A snort issued from the skull in my hand.

"You're a Shakespeare fan?" I asked in amazement as the image of the little blonde warrior ripping apart vampires seemed to war heavily with the image of a studious little blonde hiding in the library reading the Bard.

Buffy shrugged and continued petting the thick fur on my dog's neck. Yet again I wondered over the weird interplay between my guest and my dog. It was starting to worry me. Oh well, I added it to the list. It fell well below Red Court vampire attacks but slightly above my beginning desire for a cheeseburger and coke. My stomach growled in protest. Maybe I should reverse that list order. My gut was being a bit insistent at the moment. Buffy's quiet words interrupted my discussion with my stomach.

"Mel might be old but he still looked good in tights. Although I wasn't particularly found of the facial hair," she simply replied.

Now that was more of the reply I expected. I grinned. Like I mentioned before, I liked predictable things.

"I think I can avoid the iambic pentameter and this is not Yorick," I answered as I waved the skull in her direction. "Buffy, meet Bob."

"Bob, this is Buffy."

"You know, Harry, I think a reenactment of our guests arrival might be needed for me to figure out how to help," the old letch prodded hopefully.

Buffy's green eyes widened ever so slightly when the skull actually spoke but she didn't seem compelled to comment. It was almost like she totally expected the unexpected and although she hadn't expected it, she was okay with it. For some reason, I had always figured that only in my world were talking skulls mundane. I glanced at the young woman who was practically communing with my decidedly un-mundane pooch. Guess I'm not so unique after all. That was a sobering thought.

"Is there any kind of incantation with this stuff?" I asked as I tried to keep Bob from making any other potentially sexually harassing or embarrassing comments and likewise prevent my thoughts from wandering into left field again. Although the flowers might be nice there, it didn't get a lot accomplished.

Bob expertly reported the proper words to accompany the surge of power I would need to infuse into the spell to have if work. I followed his directions, muttered my own pathetically mangled form of Latin, focused my will on the spell and inhaled the dust into my nostrils. My sinuses burned for a moment and my eyes teared in response. I closed my eyes and fought through the discomfort and strong desire to sneeze.

Opening my eyes, my gaze traveled around my apartment. Pretty much everything looked normal. Even the two swords I had tucked away and partially hidden in the corner seemed to belong exactly where they were. That was surprising at first until I realized that the weapons might be holy weapons but they were designed for the Knights of the Cross to battle in the name of God in this world. They were part of this reality even if they were blessed items. They belonged here. Hence, the not looking out of place.

I shifted my sight until my vision fell on Mouse and Buffy. Neither of them appeared remotely normal. With the influence of the potion, they both seemed to glow with a brilliant halo of white tinted with just a hint of blue. It was almost like they were bathing unharmed in lightning. Unlike viewing Buffy with my Sight, this was just a happy glow without any soul dragging despair.

"Neat-O," I muttered. The effect was cool even if I had no clue how it helped. I explained as much to Bob.

"Bluish white light, huh?" Bob repeated and I nodded. I glanced at the skull and immediately wished that I hadn't. Bob's essence seemed to fluctuate with a grasping blackness that shifted in a dizzying manner to other colors and textures only to return to the cloying blackness before repeating the pattern. His image through the spell made me feel distinctly nauseous and uneasy.

"Makes her a celestial being," Bob explained since he was unaware of the nausea that looking at his black wavering form did to me. I tore my eyes away from the skull and concentrated on the very boring and frayed carpet on my floor. Once I was sure I wasn't going to lose what little I had in my stomach, I returned to topic.

"Celestial... as in stars?"

"No, Harry, celestial as in divine. You know, Heaven."

"She's an angel?"

"I doubt it," Bob replied. "Just means she belongs in Heaven."

Now I was even more frustrated in the this is really a headache kinda way and not in the haven't kissed a woman in a while kinda way. I resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of my nose. Another quick glance at Buffy showed her now rubbing her head against Mouse's back and hugging him like a lifeline. Mouse was lazing in her arms with his tongue hanging out and an expression of pure doggie bliss on his face. I was suddenly really jealous of my dog. It had been way too long since someone properly petted me. I suppressed a grumpy growl. Now I was both kinds of frustrated and neither was very conducive to finding a solution to Buffy's displacement problem.

"Well, how am I supposed to get her there?" I bit out.

"Well, we could stick to Shakespeare and go with a bit of bitter conduct or a happy dagger. Both would get her where she belongs," the skull helpfully offered.

"Bob, we are not poisoning or stabbing Buffy," I scolded. Have I ever mentioned that Bob is a bit heavy on the moral ambiguity? All that knowledge but no concept of good or evil. It can make him a bit scary at times.

"Anyway, she might belong in Heaven but that isn't really getting her home. She said home was somewhere called Sunnydale California."

"There is no Sunnydale in California," Bob replied in a tone that meant that once again he thought I was an idiot.

"Thanks for stating the obvious Mr. Atlas," I grumbled at the currently unhelpful skull. "We already knew that. What with her belonging somewhere other than here, right?"

If Bob had a real face, he might have had the grace to look embarrassment. As it was, he mumbled an apology and started muttering to himself so rapidly I had no clue what he was saying. I think he might have been speaking in at least two other languages on top of speaking faster than Alvin the Chipmunk on speed. I tried to interrupt him but he just continued to ignore me. Sometimes it really is hard to find good help.

Finally accepting that Bob was going to keep ignoring me until he figured out his own mind, I dropped the skull on the couch and moved across the room. I allowed myself to sneeze like my body wanted and the effects of the spell dissipated. After grabbing a much needed tissue from my overstuffed bookshelf and tossing the remains in the lightly smoldering fireplace, I knelt beside Mouse and rubbed his head. He shifted slightly against my hand and my fingers brushed against Buffy's delicate fingers.

"No luck, huh?" she murmured so softly I could barely hear her.

"That was just a first try," I assured her. I glanced over my shoulder at the still muttering skull. Now he sounded like he was arguing with himself. Great. My spirit of intellect was having a schizophrenic moment. Just what my day needed.

I moved my hand so that it was over the top of Buffy's hand. Hers was dwarfed under mine but it felt warm and pleasantly delicate. I offered her a gentle squeeze as I promised that I would find a way to get her home. I assured her that Bob obviously knew more. He was just processing.

"Maybe we could just go with the dagger option," Buffy whispered as she lowered her head to rest on Mouse's back. "Or maybe the poison. I think dagger-deathage would hurt a lot more. Less pain always a plus for a gal."

I raised my hand to gently touch her hair. Her soft hair slid like silken threads through my fingers. She allowed the tentative caress for only a few moments before Buffy lifted her head. Once again, her haunted eyes were rimmed with tears that she fought to contain.

"Tell me about your home," I prodded softly. I hoped to get her to share just a bit with me. I wanted to understand how she reached this point that seemed even beyond despair. "You never know what tidbit of info might help me get you back," I offered in way of encouragement. I really didn't expect it to help with whatever spell or ritual would be needed to send her back but I figured it might help her mental health at least.

Absently, Buffy continued to stroke Mouse. She finally lifted her eyes again from his back. Green met brown and something that she saw there loosened her tongue. Perhaps she was seeing the same haunted darkness in my eyes that she saw in the mirror. Maybe she really needed to share with someone and an outsider would work best. Maybe she felt the same strange connection with me that I felt for her whenever I was near her. I had no idea. Whatever she saw or felt though, it was enough to allow choppy, emotional words to fall into the silence.

I didn't realize that I was actually only the second person she had honestly shared with since returning from the dead. If I had, I would have felt more smug at getting her to open up.

"It's hard," she admitted. "Hard and loud and filled with people who take and take and take and never seem to care when there is nothing more to give. They just reach out and take some more. And violent. God, Harry, its so violent."

Buffy shuddered and the tears finally escaped. They ran silently down her cheeks. Twin trails of sadness racing to escape from the soft skin of her cheeks to plunge to their end in Mouse's fur.

"Death was my gift. After years of violence and pain, I was finally finished. Complete. Done. It was my gift but now all I do is give my gift away. Over and over in an unending Hell. I was torn from my gift, the place I truly belonged and forced back to the violence and emptiness."

"Buffy... I..." I stammered uselessly. I was just not sure how to reply to her description of home. It truly sounded like Hell. Fleetingly, I wondered why I would ever dream of sending her back to such an awful place. Didn't sound like the type thing one of the white hats would do and unlike Bob and his ambiguous morals, I considered myself one of the good guys. Perhaps it would be better to just decide her home was unreachable. She could stay here. I glanced nervously around my dim cave that I called home. Well, maybe she couldn't stay here exactly. At least not for an extended time. I was sure I could find her some place though that would offer her something other than darkness and pain. Perhaps someplace where she could heal.

"Buffy," I tentatively ventured. "Do you have a reason that you must return to Sunnydale?"

The blonde tilted her head slightly as if the thought of not returning never entered into the possible. She sighed.

"They need me."

She stated it with all the empty flatness of an irrefutable fact. It sounded to me like the warrior woman felt trapped into returning to her previous life. As if she truly had no choice in the matter. Having no control in your own life was a terrible way to live. Without choice, one was little more than a slave to the whim of those who had the control. In that moment, I truly hated whoever her mysterious 'they' were. I've got a fairly developed imagination and I could not envision that her 'they' truly deserved to hold the reins of this shattered young woman.

Unbidden, an image of Buffy in leather reins crept into my minds eye. The unexpected image of the petite blonde lightly restrained in my imagination startled me. My mind normally doesn't jump quite that quickly to the naughty unless a White Court vamp was forcing the matter. Sudden desire to keep Buffy here flushed my body with a surprising heat. I suspected that I blushed. In the wake of my physical embarrassment, I resisted the urge to act like the awkward teenager I sometimes felt like in my head when it came to women.

I quickly withdrew my hand from her vicinity and leaned back on my heels so I was no longer so close to her. I couldn't help but frown. Something was really weird here. Yes, Buffy was attractive and I was a red-blooded American male. Yes, she was in trouble which set off all sorts of overprotective instincts in me. Yes, she could dish out an ass whooping on the bad guys with a ferociousness that I couldn't help but admire. All were big pluses in the Harry Dresden female fascination file. Problem was that the things I felt, the connection, seemed way too intense for someone I just met.

Sure, I believe in lust at first sight but this, something about this was different. Unpredictable and unexpected. Since we have already established how much I appreciate the things I can predict, my mind was going to keep circling my sudden insight like a vulture circling a dead carcass. It was just gonna keep cycling over the thought until I found an answer.

I decided to treat my questions a bit like a scab. Slap a band-aid on it and hope I didn't pick at it too much until I had time to really consider the situation. As it was, I jumped on the first band-aid I could think of.

"You need clothes," I stated in my own impersonation of Captain Obvious.

Buffy responded with a simple nod and I offered her a bit of a smirk.

"I have a friend to check on. He's got more kids than you can count on one hand so I am betting the family can help with a temporary wardrobe."

I stood and offered a hand towards my guest. Buffy slipped her small hand into mine. She offered me a brief flash of a smile which unconsciously drew an answering one from my lips.

"Clothes that fit are of the good," she replied as I pulled her to her feet. "Although I kinda like the scarecrow."

"Well, lets get on the road, Dorothy."

"We're off to see the Wizard?" Buffy inquired as I offered her my coat to keep her warm and cover her too large outfit. I could really appreciate the easy way she changed gears and put aside the recent heavy topic. I should take lessons.

I grinned and shook my head.

"Nah... you already met the Wizard. I think if I had to pick, we're off to visit the Tin Man. His heart may be damaged but he is still the epitome of a good deed doer."

I returned Bob, who was still arguing with himself, to the basement while Buffy shrugged into my duster. After I returned from the subbasement and replaced the carpet, I offered to protect Buffy's piggies out to the car. She nodded and I picked her up after opening the door. Stepping outside, I called to Mouse.

"Well, come on Toto," I called.

Buffy snorted in what I guess was amusement and I grinned in return. Mouse? I think he rolled his eyes at me but at least he followed me to the car. Hopefully, we won't run into the Wicked Witch or flying monkeys on our way.


Willow glanced nervously at the locked door of the Magic Box. Granted it was after hours but Anya would normally be in the shop closing out the cash register and receipts for the day at this time. A pang of resentment rumbled in her stomach. She had no way of entering the locked store. When Giles had scampered off to England, he had left the store in Anya's care so only the ex-demon and Buffy had keys. The red headed witch looked at her watch once more. Everyone was supposed to be meeting here to discuss Buffy's disappearance in less than fifteen minutes. She glanced at the locked door knob and reached towards it. She gathered some of her will to force the lock open with magic.

"Don't do it," a voice cut across the deepening shadows.

Willow whipped around to glare at the teenager who dared to tell her what to do. Dawn just glared back at the witch with an equally disgusted expression. Willow's attention flitted to the right to read the sad yet determined expression on Tara's face. The disappointment written clearly in the older girl's expression cut at Willow's already shaky emotional state.

The pain from her lost relationship warred with the jealousy she felt about the younger Summers freely spending time with the Tara when she was not able to do so. Anger and sadness trailed on the envy. It was unfair. In fact, the unfairness of it slapped Willow yet again in the face. Dawn had opted to stay in Tara's dorm room for the day instead of returning to the house on Revello Drive to sleep alone. The teen had skipped school since she had been awake most of the night stressing over Buffy's disappearance. With Buffy being missing, no one else was going to say anything against her truancy.

Willow and Tara had needed to attend classes but both had attempted to research ways of finding or returning Buffy in between their responsibilities as students. Neither had yielded any positive results thus the need for an emergency meeting.

Dawn lifted the key to the front door from her pocket and shook them in the air in the general direction of Willow.

"Not everything requires magic," the teen snubbed.

Willow crossed her arms over her chest and took a step back from the entrance.

As the teen jiggled the key in the lock, Willow asked Tara where Anya and Xander were. The quiet Wicca explained that Xander had to work late at his current site and that the shop keeper was attending an emergency meeting called by the Sunnydale Merchants Association. The red head frowned. She couldn't fathom why a group of store owners would need an emergency meeting. When Dawn finally succeeded in working the lock, the angry red head pushed past her.

Willow stomped into the Magic Box ahead of Dawn and Tara. She moved towards the heavy wooden table the Scoobies normally used for research. She was embarrassed that she was caught almost using magic again and she was irritated from the withdrawal from the rush she normally felt when she cast spells. Combining those two feelings with her unease over Buffy's disappearance made her thoroughly unreasonable.

"You would think Anya would have been here instead of off playing entrepreneur," she snipped.

The store door slammed shut.

"Oh yes, I should immediately drop everything in my life to deal with Buffy's emergencies," Anya spat irritably as she too stormed across the store floor. The perky ex-demon had rushed towards the magic shop when she saw the other Scoobies from down the street. She was out of breath but had had been in time to follow Tara into the store. She heard Willow's rude comment. Being Anya, she was not about to pull her punches in her response to the scathing words.

"I should ignore my responsibilities and devote myself utterly to Buffy. Like you did, huh? Of course, you skipped all your classes today, didn't eat, and did nothing but research how to find our missing Slayer, right?" Anya snidely stressed.

Although annoyed at being corrected, Willow could not really refute the other girl's point. The college student had not abandoned her own life because Buffy was missing. She had still taken her political science exam and still enjoyed lunch in the school cafeteria. She had spend some of her free time on her laptop researching theories about alternate dimensions but she hadn't missed a single class. She had even taken the time to re-organize her notes after each one just like she always did. A twinge of guilt pricked at her conscious but Willow quickly smashed it under a superior attitude. The red head was not about to take direction from a former demon.

"What was your meeting about?" Tara asked Anya in hopes of redirecting the normal animosity between the red headed witch and the currently brunette ex-demon. She recognized the tilt of her ex-girlfriend's head and the flash in her eyes. The young Wicca knew Willow was about to become more aggressive. The well timed redirect surprisingly worked and gave the red head a moment to cool the impending nasty words. She didn't want to alienate her ex-girlfriend any further.

With a genuine smile to Tara and her unexpected question, Anya quickly outlined the emergency meeting purpose. There had been four break-ins and thefts overnight at prominent businesses on the main street of town. All the stores had been small, independently owned ones. They were similar to the magic box in size. Damages had been extensive and included shattered windows, overturned stock and destroyed equipment as well as the actual thefts of goods. The electronics store was the worst hit. A book store, an antique dealer and an art gallery were also included in the destructive burglaries. Whoever executed the robberies had disabled all the alarms and been very careful in not leaving any obvious clues for the police. The merchant's group had met with the local police liaison to voice concerns and encourage improved security.

"The Association felt that the level of destruction had to be the result of some of the resident PCP gang members. Everyone knows that Sunnydale's PCP users are mindless machines for destruction."

Willow frowned. Something was off with the vampire explanation.

"What would vampires want with electronics?" Tara wondered aloud.

"Vampires are not the most tech savvy," Willow replied. "They normally make Giles seem computer literate. Fledges are all too busy with the grr hungries and the older ones are too, well, old to really embrace modern technology."

The red head rubbed her forehead and squeezed her eyes shut in hopes of blocking her headache so she could better think.

"Spike can use a computer," Dawn volunteered.

"Spike didn't rob the local electronics shop last night," Tara replied but offered the teen a smile in encouragement for her attempt to offer something useful.

Willow snorted.

"No, he was too busy banging Buffy and watching her disappear to hit the store."

Anya stopped fussing with merchandise and she grinned.

"Buffy and Spike are having sex?" she questioned. Despite the break in news and Buffy's disappearance, the ex-demon smiled cheerfully. "Good for them. Maybe the slayer will be happier with a regular outlet for her frustrations of the non-slaying kind. Buffy always seems to be so sad lately. I am sure good orgasms will make her feel better. They always make me feel better."

The other three women stared at the open minded ex-demon with expressions that ranged from mild amusement to horror. None had a chance to comment though because a clattering from the basement drew their attention. All four females glanced towards the door to the cellar steps and were rewarded with the sight of the noisy culprit.

"Spike!" called out Dawn enthusiastically before suddenly frowning. She had momentarily forgotten she was irked at the vampire. The teen crossed her arms and lifted her chin in a close imitation of one of her older sister's haughty looks. Her sore arm mildly protested the movement.

Ignoring the suddenly cold reception, Spike approached the foursome.

Tara's eyes widened.

"Oh, Spike," she suddenly fussed as she tentatively reached a hand out towards his damaged cheek. The normally sharply cut and smooth cheek sported a ragged gash encrusted with blood and a swollen bruise. Tara didn't actually touch the injury though and withdrew the motion once she realized that the gesture might not be appreciated by the obviously agitated vampire. Even if the blond was kept on a tight set of reins by the behavior chip, his jerking motions and angry glare frightened the young woman.

On closer inspection, the rest of his appearance seemed equally bedraggled. Spike's clothes appeared a bit worse for wear. Tears, dust and dirt abounded. In addition, his knuckles were bloodied. His fingers looked encrusted with dirt and at least one of his fingernails was ripped to the quick. Dark patches had started to form under his eyes that made him look like he hadn't slept in days and his normally pale skin looked almost gray. All in all, he looked terrible.

"Have you eaten or slept today?" Tara hesitantly asked.

Spike frowned at the concern. He had more important worries. Although it was true that he hadn't eaten in over twenty-four hours and he hadn't slept in a longer time, he had no time for coddling no matter how much he might have enjoyed the attention on a normal day.

"Any news?" he demanded as he shook off the pitying look and questioning concern. The vampire glanced at each person and his shoulders slumped ever so much with each negative head shake.

The vampire took an unneeded breath as if it actually fortified his body but in truth it was just a residual affectation of life.

"Well, I struck out too. Ripped through Willie's place, left a bit of a mess but no one knows anything. Didn't tell 'em the Slayer was missing though. Just looking for info on human magic users who might be making a stink in the community. Also visited your friend Rack, Red." Spike explained as he nodded towards the silently fuming red-head. "He didn't admit to knowing anything but it isn't like I could force anything out of him. Him being human and all. We had a real nice discussion. Friendly like. After I scared off all his customers that is. And then dug around the old high school for a stupid trophy he wanted for trade on the information."

Tara nodded in understanding. That explained the sad state of the vampire's hands. While they had been going about their normal lives, Spike had spent part of the day digging through huge piles of destroyed building in hopes of securing information to help the Slayer.

Unaware of the white witch's thoughts, Spike continued. He explained that Rack mentioned some folks who might be able to cast something powerful enough to move someone outside of their world. It would obviously take more than a novice to accomplish such a feat.

Again, Spike nodded towards Willow.

"Well, besides Red, your friend Miss Rat was on the list. Also a crone named Irma Beetle. Old lady, lives outside town near Oceanview Cemetery. Mentioned a bloke named Michael Czajak who lives in a dive over on Maple Street."

Spike ticked off a few more names on his dirt encrusted fingers until he reached the end of his list.

"Oh, and that little twerp, the one who made with the 'I'm so special mojo' a couple years ago."

"Jonathan," Anya supplied in an effort to be helpful and included.

Spike offered the ex-demon a tiny nod to acknowledge the name.

"That's a lot of names," Dawn lamented at the nine magic users the vampire supplied.

"Yeah, but only one of them has recently claimed to be Buffy's arch nemesis," Willow supplied as she considered the recent confrontation in the arcade with the three invisibility ray toting nerds. She silently berated herself for not thinking of the three geeks sooner. It was a better starting point than randomly investigating the names Rack supplied.

Taking charge, Willow began giving orders. A few phone calls, a pit stop in the washroom for the dusty vampire, and a trip across town later found the four girls and the vampire standing in front of the Levinson's house. Jonathan's mother was expecting her son for supper and had been only too happy to invite Ira and Shelia Rosenberg's lovely daughter to come for dinner also. The dark street was barely illuminated by the lone street light half way down the block from the modest ranch home.

Resolutely, the five Scoobies marched onto the porch and Willow rang the door bell. When the door swung open, the protective barrier for the house saved the short sorcerer's face and the vampire's head. Jonathan squeaked when Spike shifted into his ridged and fanged game face but it was Dawn who ultimately delivered on the aggression. Her healthy hand streaked forward and slapped across the startled guy's face as the teen shouted accusation.

"Aw man," Jonathan whined as his hand cupped the side of his face. He took a step back from the door and flinched when Dawn moved forward again.

"Per-um-haps words, Dawnie?" Tara prompted as she rested her hand on the dark haired teen's shoulder. The younger girl huffed and crossed her arms on her chest. She glared at the already intimidated magic user but did not raise her hand against him again.

This gave Willow a chance to demand if Jonathan knew anything about Buffy's current predicament.

For a moment, Jonathan looked at his former classmate like she was a fool. He then glanced out the door in both directions as if making sure no one was watching him. The sorcerer then invited the visitors, including Spike who had returned to his human guise, into his parent's house. He shuffled them quickly down the hallway before calling to his mom. He told her he wanted to show Willow something downstairs before leading the whole group down the basement steps to a rather plainly furnished family room. When Dawn once more demanded if he cast a spell on Buffy, Jonathan rolled his eyes.

"Well, duh," he answered. "Of course I did."

The admission led to four feminine accusations of disgust and threats while Spike slipped back into game face. The vampire moved to grab the little twerp but halted momentarily when Jonathan threw his hands in the air in surrender. The motion provided him only a heartbeat's reprieve.

"I did it to save her!" he squealed as Spike's hand closed on his throat.

Despite the rapidly firing chip, the vampire growled and tightened his grip on the magic user. Jonathan began to choke on the words he was trying to share.

"No! No!" shouted Willow as both she and Tara lurched towards the vampire in hopes of preventing the magic user's eminent death.

With his head shaking and his eyes practically rolling back into his head, Spike abruptly released Jonathan. He staggered back a step and sunk to his knees as he gripped the side of his head and howled in pain. The magic user followed the vampire to his knees too. The man's hands flew to his bruised throat and he continued to choke over his words as he reacted to the pain in his neck.

"Suck it up, you big baby," Anya stated as she stepped forward and pulled Jonathan to his feet. "At least he didn't crush your larynx. He totally could have you know. The throat is a particularly delicate body part for humans."

Anya smiled pleasantly at the magic user as she offered her honest statement and Jonathan's dark eyes widened in greater fear. He nervously stepped back from the perky and pretty but very strange young woman. His eyes darted towards Willow. He knew her and figured she was his best bet for surviving his confession. The sorcerer once more raised his hands in hopes of placating his guests.

"I really did, um, do it to help, um, Buffy," he hastened to reiterate.

"Help?" Dawn screeched. "How is making her disappear helping her?"

"Well, it beats Warren killing her," he replied in frustration.

"What?" demanded several voices at once. Jonathan flinched and nervously wiped his palms on his pant legs.

"Look, you know, it was supposed to start off fun," the geek tried to explain. "We would team up and become the rulers of Sunnydale. Like in the comics."

"This is not the sodding funny papers," Spike growled as he levered himself back to his feet. His game face had faded once more and he rubbed the side of his head in hopes of relieving the lingering pain in his noggin. The prolonged firing of the chip was still causing him to see stars.

"I know, but it was kinda fun with the magic and the demon summoning and the gadgets but then... well, Warren... he... he said we had to take out the Slayer if we were going to rule the Hellmouth."

"He had all these plans. You know, the invisibility ray. It wasn't really supposed to hurt anyone but some of his newest ones? They, well, they would hurt people. They would hurt Buffy."

Jonathan raised his lowered head and pleaded with his eyes for understanding.

"I couldn't stop him but I could protect her from him. That's why I cast the spell last night."

"You sent my sister to some hell dimension to save her?"

Jonathan shifted his attention to Dawn.

"No, no. No hell dimensions were involved. I sent her someplace safe for her. Buffy saved my life. I wouldn't send her somewhere she couldn't survive. Why would I send her to some horrid place where they might not even have oxygen? The enchantment I wove was designed to keep her safe. I used an idem quaerere linked with the mutata re."

Dawn and Tara didn't react to the spell information. Although Willow and Spike frowned as they attempted to translate the Latin sounding spells, it was Anya who exclaimed in delight.

"Seek the same and reality shift paired without paradoxical wave? Impressive," she congratulated with an enthusiastic grin. She roughly patted Jonathan on the shoulder. The ex-demon was honestly impressed that the young man had successfully cast a dimensional portal. She glanced at her companions and tried to emphasis just how difficult the spell he designed actually was. "You know that the last sorcerer who tried to open a mirrored dimensional portal was in 1815 in Sumbawa. He failed of course. D'Hoffryn always thought that if the backlash hadn't caused Mount Tambora to erupt and eradicate the portal site that our reality would have been overrun by Others from the Dead Zone. It would have been the end of earth as we know it."

"Um, yeah," the magic user replied nervously. The longer he spent near the strange store keeper, the more uncomfortable she made him. Jonathan suddenly felt a bit nauseous. He hadn't realized the spell he was casting was as dangerous as Anya described. He hadn't realized it could cause natural disasters. If he had known, then he would not have attempted it. He sank onto the couch and waved the others towards seats. "I avoided the whole reality destruction thing by linking the shifts to an inanimate object. I sent the link through the Dead Zone to its destination and the Slayer was pulled directly to the final resting place instead of passing through the zone."

Four pairs of confused eyes centered on the discussion of magic theory.

"So no living matter in the Dead Zone meant no reciprocal backlash?"

Jonathan nodded at Anya.

"Brilliant."

"Um... yeah," the sorcerer preened with pride at the praise but he didn't have the time to enjoy it.

"This is all well and good but how do we get Buffy back from where ever you sent her?" Dawn demanded with obvious frustration.

"Technically, getting back isn't an issue. All Buffy has to do is touch the beacon. The link I send through contains its own trigger and the magic unravels when they are both together and poof, she is back," Jonathan offered with an encouraging smile.

"But how will Buffy know to touch the beacon?" Tara sensibly asked.

Jonathan's face fell. He hadn't thought of that.

Spike cussed.

"You have no sodding clue!" he accused.

Once again, Jonathan flinched from the anger and aggression he was facing. He stammered an apology because he wasn't sure how to fix this new problem.

"Could you send her a note or something?" Dawn suggested. She figured if they could send inanimate things through whatever this Dead Zone was than instructions on paper could be easily sent to her sister.

Jonathan nervously grimaced as he admitted that they could send the note but there would be no way to ensure that she received it. He explained how the linking spell made the person or item sent to the other reality seek its same.

"I did it on purpose," he explained. "I didn't want Buffy to be dropped into a dangerous situation. With the idem quaerere, she should have been plopped in the presence of another hero. A kindred spirit if you will."

"So why can't you send her a note though?" Dawn questioned.

"OH! I know this... I think," Willow responded with excitement evident in her voice as she puzzled out the dilemma. She practically vibrated with the insight. "He could send the note but it would appear with some other note. In someone's mail or on their refrigerator. Note to note. Right?"

Jonathan nodded miserably.

"Well, then just send another person to the reality like you did Buffy," Dawn countered.

"Won't work," Anya stated before Jonathan could respond. "Like to like could send the person to another reality entirely instead of where Buffy is and if you send the person directly to Buffy it would have to be by way of the Dead Zone. Big boom and invading armies of Others." The ex-demon shuddered at the thought of the Others that inhabited the dead zone.

"Wouldn't be much world left for Buffy if she ever got back," she added with a concerned frown.

"So we're left with the retrieval spell you mentioned before, Glinda?" Spike spoke into the silence as they all contemplated their lost Slayer.

"Uh.."

Anya started shaking her head instead of waiting for Tara to properly respond.

"Well, you could if you wanted to destroy the other reality. Remember, big boom? Not to mention, pulling Buffy through the Dead Zone would, well, most likely kill her. Might give us a boom too since we would have to open a doorway into the Dead Zone for her to exit too. Might be big boom on both sides. Although, most likely only on the other side because the Others would probably kill the Slayer before she reached our reality. So then she would be dead and be inert coming through to our side so maybe no gaping hole of doom on this end at least."

"Um, so no retrieval spell," Dawn stated in horror as she stared at Anya who still seemed to find the entire situation more academic than emotional. It wasn't often that the ex-demon had a chance to exhibit her knowledge of spells and magical theory acquired over her extended lifetime. For the moment, she at least seemed to be enjoying Buffy's predicament.

"You said no living thing can go through this Dead Zone without disaster," Spike reiterated.

Both Anya and Jonathan nodded in agreement.

"So what about a dead thing. Or more specifically, an undead thing?"

Anya tilted her head slightly and gnawed on her lower lip.

"Not sure," she finally decided. "Vampires are dead so they are not alive but they are animate so they are not inanimate. I am not exactly sure if it is the animation or the living part that affects the place."

"Can demons travel to the Dead Zone?" Willow asked.

Again, Anya frowned. She just wasn't sure of the answer. No demon in its right mind would seek to enter the Dead Zone. Only something with a death wish on an almost global scale would seek to have anything to do with it. She simply shrugged in response.

With a little prodding from Tara and Dawn, Anya put in the effort to contact D'Hoffryn. He appeared with a bang and a flash in the Levinson family room. After casually chatting about her upcoming nuptials with the ruler of Arashmaharr, the bride-to-be attempted to pick the demon's brain about the Dead Zone. The lower demon confirmed the theory that it was living beings not animated material that interacted poorly with the realm outside of realities. He shook his head at the arrogance and foolishness of the spell casters thinking they should dabble in matters involving Others. For a moment, he considered offering them some guidance but then snorted. He was evil after all. He punished humans not helped them. His reputation would be damaged if others learned that he actively aided the Slayer's companions. In parting, D'Hoffryn only offered the collected mortals a steady glare and informed them not to destroy the earth until after Anyanka's wedding. He said that he invested substantial time and effort into her gift and wanted to ensure that he was able to present it to the couple. In the next moment, he disappeared.

Everyone stared nervously around the room in the wake of the demon's exit. Not unexpectedly, it was Anya who actually broke the silence.

"So we're sending Spike after Buffy?" she stated in support of the only obvious solution.

Tara and Jonathan both glanced at the vampire with expressions of concern and pity but Willow voiced none of their reluctance.

"Into the Dead Zone he goes," the red headed witch replied almost gleefully. She was glad that they found a solution and that only the vampire would be truly in danger from it. Smugly, she considered that it was even better that she was not the one to blame for the problem in the first place and that she had been the one to point them in the direction of Jonathan in the first place. Disregarding the vampire's efforts to gather information all day, she slipped easily into the self congratulation for her accomplishment. She totally missed the real fear her ex-girlfriend was showing on behalf of Spike's trip into the potentially dangerous unknown.

"Well, lets get this show on the road," Spike proclaimed as he stood and rubbed his hands together as if anticipating a great adventure. His bravado covered well his insecurities and only Tara suspected he was anything other than thrilled to be facing the unknown.


*A/N: There really was a horrible volcanic eruption in Sumbawa in 1815. It is arguably the most destructive eruption on record because not only did the direct eruption kill 12,000 people with substantial additional deaths of starvation, injury and disease in the immediate region to total around 71,000. In addition, it caused a volcanic winter that led to the worst world wide famine in the 19th century (European fatalities alone are estimated at over 200,000 from that one year of famine which is well over double the standard at that time and the climate changes actually affected the entire globe so I am sure other continents suffered similar levels of starvation fatalities).

Also, I am aware that the Dead Zone and Others created for the Buffy-verse are called the Outside and Outsiders in Dresden-land. I figure different worlds would have different names for things they really don't know a lot about.