Chapter Twelve

Buffy was numb.

Blinking slowly, she sunk down onto the rumpled covers of Willow's bed, unfeeling fingers clenched tightly around the edge of the mattress. She had passed the frantic stage about two minutes after she had forced open the patio door that now hung pitifully on splintered hinges; concern quickly giving way to panic when her increasingly worried knocks had rendered no response. She barely recalled speaking to Giles. She couldn't say when he had turned up to join her in the empty Rosenberg house, bringing with him a very agitated Xander, whose face had promptly fallen into horrified shock as he flung himself into the bedroom.

Dazed eyes swept over the frightening state of her best friend's familiar room for the hundredth time, and it still sent a shiver of disbelief through her body. She wasn't sure if she had moved since she'd made the call. Her mind was empty -- only one thought pounding in her dulled skull relentlessly. Willow was gone. And whatever had happened, had obviously happened right here in this room. Until they figured out what that was, there was nowhere for her to go. The phone by the side of the unslept-in bed had borne the brunt of the Slayer's anxiety. Left where it had dropped upon the table; cracked plastic shell split open like a discarded husk, laying bare it's brightly coloured innards.

"What the hell?" Xander breathed as he stood, frozen, trying to take in the chaos before him. Furniture was shoved around; papers, clothes and any other items that had been in the path of whatever struggle had happened were tossed in haphazard heaps. The scariest sight however, that he could barely drag his eyes away from, was the peeling tar-black web left behind from scorching flames that scarred the ceiling above them.

He turned dumbly round to Buffy who was nearly ripping the covers apart under her fists but seemed completely oblivious to her own strength, as she looked out blankly. He found his voice at last, since it seemed no-one else was going to.

"This is Hellmouth M.O. right?"

His eyes moved from Buffy to Giles who was slowly picking up the scattered mess on the floor, straightening up and tidying almost distractedly, as if he found the small steady actions calming and reassuring. When neither seemed to hear him, Xander felt his impatience rising. They were wasting time!

"Look around! There was obviously a fight! She didn't go willingly! Willow's missing, and we need to find her! We can't just stand here -- we need an action plan! What demons have this kind of fire-power?" He stared pointedly at Giles who didn't meet his eye before turning imploringly to the immobilised Slayer. "Snap out of it Buffy! Help me out here!"

Buffy looked up finally to meet her friend's desperate gaze, and managed to half-form a sympathetic smile.

Her Slayer instincts had jumped to exactly the same conclusion at the initial sight of Willow's disappearance. It was a pretty natural assumption when one lived on a gateway to Hell and battled the most gruesome forms of evil on a frequent basis. And in a way, she quietly admitted to herself, it was safe. Fighting evil was what she did, what she was built for. Something she could do better than anyone else. All her panicked fear had instantly hardened into Slayer resolve, and she was more than ready to charge off and track down the monsters responsible and bring her friend back. She wasn't going to lose anyone else; she wouldn't let anything take Willow. But her fast and sharp observations had equally proceeded to pull the rug out from under her, and on closer inspection she couldn't stop the rational deductions that forced their way into her mind, leaving her somewhat paralysed and out of her arena. Take away something for her to fight, and Buffy felt horribly helpless.

Now as she looked up at her best friend's earnest and pleading face, teetering on the edge of outright panic, she forced her reluctant voice from her throat.

"I can't." She looked away from his confused and angry stare, gesturing limply out to the space in front of her. "Look around you, Xander. All the burnt-out candles, the spilled bowl, the knife, spell books…" She swallowed thickly, her hand dropping back down. "Doesn't this seem like Willow and her magics to you?"

Xander faltered, his mouth open in a retort that left him as he took in the room again, Buffy's words ringing in his ears. The truth smacked into him like many a vampire's fist had before, knocking him speechless for a moment.

"But...why?"

The slow response came quietly, in a tone of hurt bemusement that Buffy whole-heartedly understood. She shook her head, even as she tried to form an answer.

"She loved him. Maybe…maybe she was trying a, a resurrection spell or something? A spell to forget? Something too heavy, out of her league, and…"

And what? Buffy shut her mouth tight, refusing to contemplate the outcomes. She should have seen something like this coming. She'd seen the desperate loss in her friend's eyes. She'd felt her gut instinct, and she hadn't followed it. And now it had cost them everything. There was no doubt in her mind that whatever had happened, had happened by the own hand of her grief-stricken friend. Because she had lost the person she loved; and she couldn't bear to miss him for the rest of her life.

She should never have left her alone.

Xander's jaw clenched as he unconsciously backed up a step, retreating from the evidence the surrounded him. He almost wanted to laugh, anything to break the oppressive quiet that seemed unbearably loud without Will's awkward babble that should have been there. To release the bubbling fear and anger that seethed up inside him; a meek attempt to dismiss the cold hard facts before him. The laugh of dry hysteria continued to build in his chest. How much worse could things get? How much could their lives change beyond all recognition in a mere twenty-four hours? With great restraint, he kept himself from uttering the jinx out loud. He'd learnt his lesson when it came to tempting fate in Sunnydale.

Willow. His eyes fell on the blood stained knife in the middle of the cluttered circles of toppled candles. His stomach suddenly felt hollow. He should have been here with her.

"Well-Well then we need to figure out what she did, right?"

He looked around at the silent forms that shared the unnaturally bleak room with him. He wasn't prepared to give up. No way in Hellmouth. If Will did this, there must be a way to undo it. He loved her and he'd never say it to her face, but she was still a learning witch. How much damage could she do? He refused to let his eyes drift up to the inferno marked roof.

"Maybe she cast a spell and went to see if it worked?" Frustrated by their lack of response, Xander kept throwing out suggestions with increasing desperation. "Come on guys! This is Willow – we have to find her!" he exclaimed loudly, trying to break through the stupor that seemed to have settled over his friends. He would save her all by himself if he had to. He would find her and when he did, he would quite possibly never let her out of his embrace ever again.

Buffy seemed to shake herself out of her head, her eyes focusing and growing alert as she nodded slowly. "Yes, yes of course we will." She looked over to Xander and flashed a small grateful smile. The numbness was receding in the warmth of her friend's determination, and Buffy was beginning to feel like herself again. From what Willow had told her, magic always left a trace. They would find out what had happened; even if Willow didn't want to be found right now.

"You're right. There must be something here that can tell us what spell she was trying to pull. We figure that out and then work forwards."

"Like a trail of magical breadcrumbs?" Xander tried to joke, immensely relieved that Buffy had come to her senses and was ready to act. Having the Slayer back at full-power would make the whole process go a lot quicker.

Buffy smiled back before looking across the upsetting state of the room with fresh resolve. She banished the doubts and fears to the back of her mind and stood up, moving over to sift through the mess in search of clues. She felt Xander moving around behind her, picking up books and notepads, trying to decipher which were relevant to their search. This might be harder than she thought, neither of them were what you'd call experts in this field. Frowning suddenly, Buffy straightened up and turned her attention to the motionless figure that stood with his back to them both, in front of Willow's cluttered desk.

"Giles?" she questioned with concern. The Watcher had not said a word since he'd entered. She sensed Xander stop and look over in his direction also. As she stepped closer she saw the librarian had his head bent over a heavy tome, bound in black leather. He continued to intently scan the open pages in his hands, apparently oblivious to her call and their stares.

"Giles? Is that...is that something that can help us? Do you know what Willow was trying to do?"

She watched Giles flinch slightly as she broke through his concentration. He turned round as if just remembering they were there. Buffy saw the pained look that flashed across his face at her hopeful words, and unconsciously retreated a few steps. She knew that look. That was a no good news look. And she didn't want to hear it. She shifted her eyes to the book in his hands and glared hard at it as if she could make it disappear. She didn't want to know.

Giles forced himself to face the expectant teenagers that watched him closely with mixed expressions. He had missed most of their conversation and had nearly forgotten exactly where he was. During the whole ride across town, in which he had narrowly avoided collisions and being pulled over by police as he raced his old banger of a car along with reckless disregard, he had done a pretty good job of convincing himself that Buffy was assuming the worst. That Willow may well have just gone somewhere to be alone. All that careful delusion had splintered as he saw the obvious after-effects of explosive magic that ravaged the gifted girl's room. And it had proceeded to shatter irrevocably when he'd lifted that ancient, heavily bound volume from the centre of the spell debris on her floor. He hadn't been aware of anything else since, until Buffy's optimistic voice had broken through his deafening anxiety and guilt.

With a deep sigh, he carefully lowered himself down into the desk chair beside him; terrible shock still wreaking havoc through his system. "She's not here," he uttered softly, unable to look up. There was a pause before he heard Xander's defensive retort.

"Hey, the job of pointing out the obvious is taken!" But the boy's voice was weak and wavered slightly in uncertainty.

Giles pulled off his glasses and rubbed his eyes with one hand. Oh god, how to explain this to them. The Watcher suddenly felt old beyond his years. He had a feeling they would all be a few years older by the time they left this room this day. He raised his head and looked again at the telltale components across the floor in front of Willow's bed. He felt his heart drop in his chest with despair. There was no mistake. He repeated the archaic verse under his breath, still somewhat in disbelief.

"In English, Giles."

At Buffy's muttered command, the Watcher finally turned to look at them both. Her best friends. He swallowed and cleared his throat, putting his glasses back on and straightening in the awkward swivel chair. "It-It's from a very ancient spell. Loosely translated it says: 'Sewn with life, forged in fire, sealed with blood'. It's, well it's a-a spell of passage."

He tried to gauge a reaction from the faces before him, but mainly he was met with furrowed brows and confused gazes. Clearly more explanation on his part was expected. He cast a glance down at the book on his lap, before removing his glasses once more to compulsively rub the spotless lenses with the edge of his blazer.

"This book, it's a collection of some of the, the darkest and most powerful spells ever committed to page. It was thought lost until this tome fell into the possession of the Council about two hundred years ago."

Giles paused over his words which, given his recent attitude shift with the council, he was inclined to believe was a rather white-washed version of history. It seemed likely that it was less given into their care as strong-armed with threat and deceit away from its previous caretaker. His lip curled with distaste for a moment at the institution he had once held in such high regard. How much they were all deceived and manipulated, by allies as well as enemies. With a grimace, the disgraced Watcher brought his thoughts reluctantly back to the painful subject at hand.

He took a deep breath. "The magic contained was deemed too powerful and dangerous, and classed as forbidden. If, if Willow's done what I think…" He felt the fragile frame of his glasses crack warningly under his anxious hands, and he quickly pulled them up, sliding them onto his nose once more.

"Giles -- what?!" The edgy demand fell from Xander's lips as he watched the older man hesitate yet again, with increasing frustration.

Giles sighed. "T-The spell she used is perhaps the oldest in existence. From what researchers and translators in the Council could gather, it granted the caster passage to manifest amongst the very forces of existence. They deduced it was utilised for the purpose of putting a request to the very powers of our world. Yet to bargain with the ultimate powers is incredibly dangerous. They can't be tricked or fought off. The caster would be granted a hearing -- in exchange for their life."

Buffy felt the back of her knees hit the bed and soon the rest of her body followed, as she dropped down in shock. She stared at Giles wide-eyed as she tried to soak in his words. Xander looked at the Watcher like he had just sprouted feathered antlers. The words leaving his mouth made no sense.

"A-Are you saying -- she's…" Dead. No. He couldn't say it. He wouldn't. Cause it wasn't true. Xander ran a hand through his hair and viciously kicked a stray candle, sending it thudding into the broken wood of the patio door. He felt a little better. Now if he could just get Giles to speak sense and help them find Willow, he might feel sane again.

"I-I don't...know." Giles's voice was deeply apologetic, more uncertain than they had ever heard the Watcher. And that was more unsettling than either would admit.

Xander couldn't handle the surge of confusion that finally bubbled over his defences. He was angry, frustrated and so terrified he thought he might explode. He needed something to blame. Something to unleash his volatile fear at.

"What do you mean you don't know?! And how the hell did Willow get a book like that in the first place?" He demanded, pointing an accusing finger at the offending object in the librarian's grip.

Giles winced at the boy's sharp words, his hands tightening around the tome in his lap. He felt the iron fist of guilt squeeze tighter around his heart with a physical pain. He'd recognised the dangerous spell book the instant he had seen it. The horrific realisation had knocked the air out of him. He closed his eyes. She must have taken it from the library office one time when he had been careless enough to leave it out. Usually it was locked tight away with the other darker magical books; and for the life of him the Watcher couldn't fathom what had possessed him to dig it out. The problem with their lives was that there was always another crisis to distract them, to drive other less-pressing thoughts from his head. Giles's face creased in a grimace before he forced himself to open his eyes again. He'd never even thought to check if it was missing. Unforgivable.

He had no doubt she'd had every intention of returning it. It would just be the eager girl's natural thirst for knowledge getting the best of her. A pained smile tugged half-heartedly at his lips. Just like Willow.

He sighed heavily. "It was never meant to be seen. I usually kept it under lock and key. She must have-" He was interrupted by a furious exclamation.

"What the hell, Giles! You kept forbidden magic mojo books just lying around in the library?! You know what Willow's like -- she wouldn't be able to resist. What were you thinking?!"

The Watcher looked up at Xander's fuming face. His fists were clenched and his body trembled slightly; he looked dangerously close to lashing out at his friend. Giles dropped his gaze in agonising guilt. He would deserve it too. He knew how much the boy loved her and how protective he was. His carelessness had cost them all.

"It's not his fault, Xander."

His head snapped towards the firm voice. The Slayer looked sadly back at him from the bed, eyes silently asking for peace. But he was in no mood to be forgiving.

"I beg to differ." He turned back to the older man still seated, unmoving, at the desk. His voice shook with resentment, barely containing his messed up emotions. "You were the one who stopped us going to her last night," he accused vehemently. " 'Give her tonight. She'll be fine until tomorrow' -- what the hell did you know?! We left her devastated and alone to cast some scary dark Wiccan stuff or whatever, that's taken her god knows where! She's gone Giles! Do you even care?! It-"

"Don't you dare!"

Giles nearly flung himself to his feet in his anger. He ripped off his glasses and jabbed them towards Xander in a tense warning. The boy faltered for a second at the explosive exclamation, before his own emotions riled up and he glared back mutinously at the suddenly animated Watcher. He opened his mouth, but Giles wasn't done.

"Don't you ever suggest that I don't care about Willow! You think I don't blame myself already? I won't ever forgive myself for this. But I acted how I saw best, I never thought anything like this would happen. If there was something I could do to take back… I would do anything to help her!"

"Bit late now isn't it?! Why don't -"

"Guys -- stop it!" Buffy leapt to her feet, shouting to be heard over her arguing friends as she pushed herself between them. "Just stop! This isn't helping anyone!" She glared at each of them sternly, muscles tense and ready to physically pull them apart if they weren't prepared to listen. Fortunately for them, her words seemed to have brought them back to their senses and with a sigh of relief she watched both men nod in acquiesce as they backed off.

"Good. Guys we need to focus on finding Willow. So, at least we- we know what she tried to do. That's a start right? We just have to figure out how to bring her back."

Xander nodded in agreement. Buffy turned to Giles and felt her stomach lurch unpleasantly as he refused to meet her eye.

"I-I'm not sure we can Buffy." The quiet words appeared to physically pain him.

"No wait, I know you said she's done some sort of mystical conference call or whatever with the powers that be, but she still has to be somewhere. She can't have just vanished without any trace!" Buffy's voice rose slightly in desperation. She stepped closer to her Watcher, pleading for him to give her something. Something she could work with. Anything. He was supposed to help her, not tell her there was nothing she could do!

Giles looked to the panicked Slayer and felt his heart twist in his chest. "It's not that simple Buffy. The spell is irreversible. Without knowing what she asked, how they judged her…There's no way to trace this kind of magic, it's beyond our-"

"Oz," Buffy interrupted softly. Her eyes had drifted to the floor. Slowly she bent down, retrieving a silver picture frame from where it had fallen by the edge of the desk. Her thumbs brushed gently against the glass, over the motionless image of her smiling friends, frozen in a moment of happiness that they would never get back. She felt her eyes sting and breathed deeply, not looking up from the faces that proceeded to crush her heart in painful bruises. "She'll ask for Oz back."

Buffy knew that surer than anything. If there was anyway for her to have brought Angel back from hell she would have done it – short of destroying the world of course. As it turned out, unknown powers had done that for her after all. Yet as much as she was joyously grateful for her own luck, it didn't seem fair somehow.

"Yes. Yes I expect she did."

"But...he's not here." Xander spoke up from the other side of the room, looking about them in agitated confusion. As if expecting the quiet guitarist to materialise in front of them, raise an eyebrow and shrug in surprise at all the fuss he'd caused. "Neither of them -- are here." He caught Giles's eye, all accusation faded to unconcealed fear. "What does that mean?" His voice dropped almost too low to hear, yet the words seemed to echo around them all.

The Watcher felt two pairs of concerned eyes burn into him, hanging on his answer. On his apparently infallible knowledge. Waiting for him to make things alright. Daring him to try and take away their hope.

"I- I don't know." He finally admitted with a deep weariness. "I can't pretend to say I know with any degree of certainty the ins and outs of this kind of magic. This level of power. I don't know what could have happened; these circumstances are absolutely unprecedented."

The older man felt the freezing sorrow and guilt soak into his heart, weighing him down. The room filled up with silence as the friends of Willow Rosenberg fell into the private hell of their own minds.

The Watcher couldn't bear to process the possible results of the young witch's actions. If she had somehow struck a deal, anything could have happened -- she could be anywhere. If she'd failed… Giles turned away towards the wall and rubbed the bridge of his nose, squeezing his eyes shut tight.

All he knew for sure was that she was nowhere to be found in their world. Not anymore.

Xander's eyes darted in horror as his mind slowly broke down, bit by bit. Willow couldn't be gone. Little Willow who cried when she broke yellow crayons. Will who sat and cheered through his Snoopy dance routine every Christmas. Willow who he'd held in his arms not twelve hours ago when her world had disintegrated to ash around her.

Will, who he was going to end up in neighbouring nursing homes with. That was going to be their future. She was always there. The one constant in his life. His best friend in the whole world.

Unable to think anymore, he crossed the room, flinging open the wrecked door in a crunch of splintered wood, and disappeared out into the devastating crystal clear rays of morning.

Buffy dimly registered the abrupt noise of Xander's exit, but her eyes didn't shift from the mocking picture in her hands. The familiar bright smile grinned back from the other side of the camera as the glowing redhead leant back in her boyfriend's arms on the courtyard bench, both happily unconcerned by the crowds of students that surrounded them.

She remembered taking this photo.

With a sharp crack, the glass fractured in the Slayer's hands. The single split running like a fault line through the picture, down between the missing couple.

Willow -- what have you done?

o0o

AN Wow it feels good to be back! Sorry for the delay - I was held slave to writer's block these past weeks. My muse left the country; work conspired to make me a walking zombie and this scene just absolutely refused to be written! So let me know what you think? Anyway, here's hoping my muse is back to stay for a while.