Disclaimer: If I were either J.K. Rawling or Joss Whedon, I would have an editor checking this stuff instead of Microsoft Word's crappy 'Spell Check'.

Rating: PG-13, as usual.

Feedback: It's like winning the superbowl, receiving a gold medal at the Olympics, and earning a trophy at the end of a long, harsh race.

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Still in Sunnydale…

6:07 am

The Magic Box

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Xander Harris yawned widely, his sleepy face stretched taut. He blinked blearily and licked his dry lips, sniffling slightly. Gosh, he was tired. Buffy had come to his home like a hurricane, knocking and rapping so hard that he'd thought the door would break down. She was the Slayer, after all. He'd somehow forced his body into an upright position and answered the knocks only to be assaulted by streams of panicky words from Buffy's mouth. In the end, all he'd caught was: Willow, Magic Box, come. And, too groggy to think anything more on it, he'd dazedly shrugged on a robe and shuffled into some sandals to come down here. Exactly why, however, was still a mystery to him.

Anya hadn't had quite the same experience, but her own visit was close enough to be considered plagiarism. She was currently sitting cross-legged on a couch, her own silky pajamas stretched tight against her angrily crossed arms.

"This better be good," she growled. "I was enjoying a very nice dream in which a muscular, sweaty man was—"

"Was I this 'muscular, sweaty man'?" Xander interrupted with a grin, waggling his eyebrows.

Anya frowned at him. "No, of course not."

His face fell and Spike, reclining comfortably on the loveseat and fully dressed in boots and leather, laughed outright. He had also been more than irritated at being dragged over here (he'd been getting ready to settle down for the night, or day, depending on your perspective), but had been coaxed out of his crypt with promises of fresh blood and Wheatabix, along with television privileges for the rest of the week.

Xander gave Spike a look of pure malice. "Oh, shut up, Dead-boy Jr."

The vampire smirked. "I'm sorry, mate, but it's not my fault that you're too much of a tosser for your bird to be arching for it."

"What does that even mean?"

"Hey!"

The Magic Box's current occupants turned their heads towards the door. Buffy was striding in, a very angry look in her eyes.

"All of you better calm down," she warned, obviously meaning business. Giles stumbled in behind her and clutched his head, his face the epitome of grogginess and fatigue. He had the look of a man suffering from a hangover, and whose unfortunate ear was next to a jackhammer.

"If you don't mind my asking, Slayer," Spike drawled from his position on the couch, not at all phased by her abrupt and commanding tone, "why in the bloody hell are we here?"

"We're here," Buffy said, slamming the door shut, "for Willow."

At this news even Giles perked up.

"Willow?" Anya reiterated in confusion. "But Willow's not here."

"That's part of the trouble. She could be in very serious danger and she's not here for us to protect her. My idea was—"

"Now wait, hold on a minute," Giles interrupted, one hand out in front as if to steady himself, "what is this 'danger' that you're so worried about? How is Willow in danger?"

Buffy tapped her foot irritably. "I was getting to that." She of course had not had the slightest intention of doing so, but no one had to know that.

"Well then," Xander urged, "go on. What's up with Wills?"

The slayer took in a breath. "I was talking to Clem earlier this morning and somehow Willow got into the conversation." She looked at them pointedly. "He told me that he knew about Willow trying to end the world."

Spike quirked an eyebrow. "So? What's so bloody—?"

"No, hold on, let her finish," Giles urged, interested despite himself.

"He also told me that he's not the only one who knows about it. According to him, everyone of the supernatural felt it. That means that some power-hungry warlock or, or demon or something could be tracking Willow down, hoping to get her power!"

Xander looked worried. "Well what should we do, then? Do you have a plan, Buff?"

Buffy nodded. "One of us has to find Willow and bring her back. She can only really be protected in Sunnydale. I was planning on being the one to go after her, and so I'll need someone to watch Dawn. Xander, do you think you could?"

Giles stepped forward angrily. "No. Absolutely out of the question."

Xander frowned. "I can watch Dawn, I've—"

"No, no, I'm not talking about that," he explained. "What I mean is that Buffy can't leave."

The Chosen One turned on him. "What?!"

Not backing down, Giles met her enraged eyes. "Buffy, there are at least two very dangerous prophecies that are foretold to occur within the next week or so, the graygark demon is still on the loose—"

"I'm working on it," Buffy muttered.

"—And we don't know if Willow even is in danger. This is all speculation and guesswork. Willow is probably fine, Buffy, and Sunnydale, not to mention the world, needs you here."

"Well what about sending Xander, then?"

Now it was Anya's turn to stand. "You're not taking my intercourse partner. Orgasms don't make themselves, you know."

Embarrassed, Xander turned to her. "Anya—"

"No. You're staying here, and I'm sure not going. Willow's a big girl, she can take care of herself."

Buffy blinked in disbelief. "So that's it?"

Giles smiled sympathetically. "Yes, I'm afraid so. Xander can't go, Anya won't, and I have too much book work here. It's simply impossible right now, Buffy. Please try to understand that."

Nodding solemnly, Buffy lowered her head. "I understand. I'm sorry I woke you all up."

Fifteen minutes later the lights to the Magic Box were out and everyone had gone home to catch up on their lost sleep. Spike had run back to his crypt, making it just in time, and was watching the telly in private victory.

"Cor, what a bunch of wankers," he muttered, listening as John Kerry explain to Cynthia Reeds of CNN why the American people needed to vote for him.

He'd just flipped the channel to Comedy Central's "South Park" when, for the second time that day, someone knocked on the door.

"Bleedin' Christ!" he exclaimed in annoyance, shooting a dirty look at the entrance to his crypt. He threw open the door with a yank, careful to stand to the side to avoid the resulting sunlight. Once his visitor had fully entered, spike slammed it shut.

"Well, who are you, mate, and why are you here? I'd get to the point and quick, because I'm well brassed off and up for some aggro."

His guest stepped into what little light there was and the blonde had to admit it—he was surprised.

"Slayer? What are you doing here? Seeing me once wasn't enough?"

"I hate to say it, but I want your help."

Spike smiled, amused. "Do you now? And what could I help you with, luv?"

Buffy narrowed her eyes. "Stop fooling around. Look, like I said at the meeting, I feel that Willow could be in very serious danger. If Giles and the others won't do anything about it, I need you to."

The vampire's amusement and surprise turned quite suddenly to shock. "Are you off your rocker?"

"I know that Giles wouldn't approve of it and Xander would probably go ballistic, but I think that with that chip in your head you're at least reasonably safe enough to do this."

"Are you asking me," Spike said slowly, still not totally over his disbelief, "to leave Sunnydale by myself, without any of your annoying little Scooby pals playing nanny, and go to England to find Red?"

"Yes. I have no other option. I need to make sure that Willow is safe—I owe her that much."

"And how exactly do you expect me to get there?"

"By plane."

"With whose money?"

"Mine."

Spike's smile brightened. "Well that changes everything. Sure, I'll do it. I'll get to get away from Sunnyhell without having to worry about the Watcher, and I'll have the pleasure of knowing that you're not nearly as saintly as you make yourself out to be, Slayer. Sounds like a right blinding time."

Buffy took a step toward him. "You better take this seriously. For all I know, Willow's life might be on the line. You are simply to get there, find Willow, and bring her back." She handed him a wad of bills. "That's about five hundred dollars—all I was able to spare on such short notice. I don't care if you spend half of it or all of it. Just spend enough to get her home."

She turned away from him and headed for the door. "Oh, and Spike?"

"Yeah?"

"If I find out that you've managed to harm Willow or that you've abandoned your mission and fled the country, I will find you, beat you to a bloody pulp, and stake you out on a roof to watch the sun rise."

He watched her go, a look of mild disgust on his face, and shook his head. "Bold threats, Slayer, but they're not worth the breath you wasted to say them. I'll buy the bloody ticket to England and find the witch."

He shrugged on his duster and grinned in the darkness, his teeth flashing with malice.

"Besides—it'll be fun."

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Review Returns:

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Lightdemondarkangel: Wow, thanks for the enthusiastic review. You read them all non-stop (sort of)? That takes commitment! Thanks a bunch for the review, I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well!

Spearsister: I'm glad you liked how I wrote Clem—he's so difficult! And I also agree that Willow could take Snape in a fight anytime, anywhere. Thanks for the review!

GrahamId: Thanks for the compliments; I hope I can keep it up!

Sigma 1: Yes, I sorry for the delay. Willow will be in the next chapter, however, so buck up! ;-D And yes, the plot is moving forward… just not very speedily. Anywho, thanks for the review, and don't worry—you'll probably get a piece of Snape soon enough!