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The Slayer was bored.

She had been pacing along the section of sidewalk for some time, back and forth, back and forth, until Xander whispered to Cordelia that he was getting queasy watching her. Finally, Buffy dropped to the bench and slumped forward, tapping the stake in her hand against her knee.

They had set up the ambush an hour earlier, choosing a site close to the graveyard and other places that Angelus had often been spotted. Buffy was the only one of the group visible; the others were concealed in groups surrounding her. Xander and Cordelia were crouched between two parked cars; Giles, Michael and Clarissa had found refuge in a clump of bushes; and Willow and Oz were settled in a stand of trees. The lack of activity was beginning to get to everyone, though - even Xander and Cordelia, who had spent not a bit of time making out.

Buffy heaved a sigh and glanced towards Giles' hiding place. "He's not coming," she said in a resolute voice.

Giles stood cautiously, letting his head appear above the top of the shrubs. "We'll give it another half hour, all right?"

The figure approaching down the street overheard the exchange clearly. A malicious grin crossed his face before he ducked to the fence bordering the sidewalk, using it for cover. It was a setup, all right: Dru's vision had been spot on. He pictured a mousetrap, and knew now how mice could get the cheese without springing the trap.

So where were the others? One by one, he picked them out. Resting against the fence for a few moments, he pondered the best way to spoil their fun. Perhaps he should kill Clarissa before she tried anything stupid. No, no, it'd be much more pleasant to take out another of the Slayer's friends; he hadn't done anything that nasty in months.

His approach was so silent that Oz and Willow didn't see him coming until the last minute. Angel grabbed the girl by the neck, his hand wrapping around her mouth to prevent any noise from coming out; his other hand lashed out before the boy could react, catching him in the back of the head and slapping him against a tree trunk. Oz was unconscious before he hit the ground. Angel allowed himself a snicker as he took off running, carting the struggling Willow in an awkward position.

Buffy had returned to pace mode, measuring off the length of the bench in four strides followed by a quick turn and repeat. Barely five minutes of the allotted half-hour had passed before a low, pained moan rose from the trees that had been Willow and Oz's hiding place.

The Slayer glanced nervously in that direction. Her voice rose in a teasing tone. "Okay, guys, quit making out and get back on alert." When no response came back - not even an embarrassed giggle - Buffy glanced over at Giles, who had risen from his waiting crouch upon hearing her words. They exchanged a look, and then Buffy returned her gaze to the trees.

"Will? Oz? Come on, guys, this isn't funny."

Buffy edged cautiously towards the trees, getting a firmer grip on the stake in her hand as she did so. Giles signaled to the others, who began to circle around to enclose the area. Taking a deep breath, Buffy uttered a mental prayer and swung around the tree. If something had happened to them while she was right there--

Her heart did a high-jump into her throat when she saw Oz's body stretched out limply on the ground; but he was stirring slightly, and there was no sign of a bite mark on his neck. That was good. But Willow was nowhere in sight. That was bad.

"Is he all right?" Giles' voice came over her shoulder, and she glanced back to see the rest of the group gathered behind him. Her heart sank into her shoes, even as she fought the immediate urge to blame herself for the obvious - Oz was hurt, Willow was missing, and she hadn't been able to stop it. Biting her lip, she nodded to Giles.

"What happened? Where's Willow?" Xander pushed past the others and came up next to Buffy. The look of hurt rage in his eyes was more than she could take. She looked down at Oz, shaking her head.

"I don't know."

Whatever Xander was about to say next was interrupted by Oz, who gave another painful-sounding moan and blinked hard, trying to open his eyes. Buffy quickly pulled off her jacket and folded it into a makeshift pillow, setting a hand under his head to try and raise it.

Giles moved over to them, shaking his head. "Don't move him. We don't know what happened or what condition he's in."

Numbly, Buffy nodded. Her eyes flew up to meet Xander's. The dark look on his face simmered with anger.

"It was Angelus." Clarissa's voice interrupted the tableau, and they turned to see her standing away from the group. Her fists were clenched by her sides.

"Love--" Michael moved up to her, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. She shrugged it off.

"I should have known, should have seen--"

"There was no way you could have."

"Yeah, how were we supposed to know?" Cordelia cut in, her hands working around each other. "It's not like he couldn't see us a mile away."

"Thanks for pointing that out, Plan Girl," Xander suddenly snapped. "You couldn't have mentioned that little flaw in the plot before we decided on it?"

"I wasn't the one who was so hot on getting him cornered," the brunette shot back.

"Guys!" Buffy stepped between the two just as it looked as they would come to blows. "You can fight later, right now we have to find out where Willow is."

"I can do that," Clarissa stated quietly. "If someone has a mirror?"

Somewhat penitently, Cordelia opened her purse and retrieved her hand-mirror, handing it over without another word. She turned away from Xander, ignoring the daggered look he shot at her.

While Clarissa sat down on the ground, focusing on the correct wording for the scrying spell, Giles kept an eye on Oz. The guitarist was waking up; his eyes were dazed, but did not appear unduly dilated to the Watcher. "Ow," he stated quietly. Not finding another word to better describe his state of being, he repeated, "Ow."

"Are you all right? Do you remember anything?" Giles questioned in a low tone.

"Uh..." Oz closed his eyes tightly for a moment, trying to think. "I... wow, my head really hurts. It was... I'm gonna have a bump." He was quiet then, for so long that Giles was beginning to wonder if he hadn't been hurt worse than suspected. Then he spoke again. "There was a big guy... it's all kinda blurred, but I think it was Angel. He grabbed Willow and hit me... with the tree."

Giles' face grew darker as Oz spoke, and once he had finished, the Watcher sighed, pushing his glasses back up. "It's all right. We'll get Willow back."

"Good..." Oz's head sank back to the folded jacket, his eyes closing again. Giles patted the boy's shoulder somewhat awkwardly and then stood, returning to the others, who were gathered around Clarissa.

The vampire was sitting crosslegged on the ground, the mirror laid flat before her. Her eyes were closed, and she chanted in a low voice, the syllables flowing together in a liquid stream just too quiet to be fully understood even if the words had been English. Xander peered at the image in the mirror, which was still reflecting the trees and people circled around it.

Suddenly he jumped back with a yelp. Cordelia smothered a giggle and leaned over to see what had startled him. Her eyes went wide. "Guys, look!"

Buffy shifted her attention to the mirror, as did Giles; Xander stayed behind them, sulking. The scene in the mirror had indeed shifted; within it could be seen a picture as clear as that of a television screen's image. Willow was there, huddled in the corner of what appeared to be a large cage of some kind. She looked shaken but unhurt; the 'view' enlarged, panning out to reveal stone walls and a large courtyard of some kind, with a floor of evenly set flagstones and stone blocks decorating the walls.

"Looks familiar," the Slayer said musingly. "Xander, what do you think?"

She moved back to let the boy have a look, and he nodded instantly, fighting down an instant urge to snarl at the sight of Willow locked up. "Looks like the old mansion on Crawford Street."

"We're there." Buffy stood, as did the others; Clarissa released the spell as they did so, getting to her feet with a hand from Michael.

"I'm not so sure it's the best idea to charge in, guns blazing," she said quietly.

"Sure it is. There can't be that many of them."

Giles glanced over at Buffy, a worried expression on his face. "I believe, Buffy, that she may be right."

Buffy turned an annoyed look on her Watcher. "What, you think there's a better way?"

"Just for the record, I still don't like this," Xander muttered to Buffy.

"Duly noted," she replied acidly. "Got anything new to report?"

He gave her a glare, then looked ahead. Clarissa had set a fast pace, and the pair kept up as best they could as they hurried down the street that led to the old, abandoned mansion. Xander still remembered the day he and Buffy had gone walking by here; God, it felt like years ago, back before he had started going out with Cordelia (or even before he'd started making out with her), back when he'd still had the hopeless crush on Buffy and Willow had had the hopeless crush on him, and everything was simple, even if there were vampires and bugs and demons and Hellmouths to deal with.

"We're here," he called for Clarissa's benefit. She stopped, then, looking back at them. Her face was dark, but she forced the expression back as she pushed her hair out of her face.

"So you're gonna go in... and we just wait?" Buffy said, clearly against the idea.

"Yeah. I'm sorry, I know you want to help, but this is the best way, I promise." Clarissa glanced up at the place, set high on a hill. Dark eyes scanned the place, searching for the way in. There was a balcony on one side, near a disturbing carving that had been set over the main entrance. She found her eyes drawn to the work for a moment: there was a visual dissonance to it, something that disoriented the eyes. It was difficult to look at without blinking rapidly. She shook her head, pulling back into the current situation.

"See that balcony?" She pointed, and the teens nodded. "I'll get him out there. If there's a problem, I'll signal you somehow, and then - and /only/ then - you come in after me. Got it?"

Reluctantly, Buffy nodded. "We'll wait half an hour, and if we don't see anything..."

"Then you can assume the worst," Clarissa agreed. She heaved a sigh and glanced down at herself, then quickly took off her leather jacket and handed it to Xander, who was standing closest to her. He raised an eyebrow at her, obviously surprised, and she gave him a half-smile.

"If I don't make it out... give it to Michael."

He nodded briefly, returned her smile. Buffy bit her lip, offering a quick, "Good luck."

Clarissa smiled back at both of them, saying one phrase: "Ours is not to reason why; ours is but to do or die," - and then she was gone up the driveway to the mansion.

"This has got to be the dumbest thing you've done to date," Spike declared.

He had wheeled himself over to the cage in which Angel had imprisoned the girl; after one cursory look at her, he'd proceeded to ignore her, something for which Willow was exceedingly grateful. "Yeah, okay, ha-ha, very funny," he stated with an expressive roll of the eyes. "And what is this supposed to prove? That you can overpower little girls?"

Angel was crouched by the cage, studying Willow with an intense look. She had retreated to the far corner of the barred area to get as far away from him as possible. She didn't remember anything after he'd dragged her away from the ambush; not until she'd woken up in a heap on the floor of the cage had she realized what a perilous situation she was in.

"It's a message, you know?" Angel said lightly to Spike. "To show them they can't set traps for us."

"My Angel always knows what to do," said Drusilla, as she slid off the table on which she had been lying. Moving over to the cage, she knelt next to Willow, who stared at her in horror. "Little mouse want to play?"

Spike ignored her, focusing on Angel. "There's a saying about playing with your food, mate. Ever stop to think that the Slayer's going to want her friend back?" The wheelchair-bound vampire's voice had become decidedly acid, and he fixed his sire with an angry glare - one that Angel blithely ignored. "We'd better start getting ready for some uninvited guests."

"Look, Wheel Boy, even if they knew where to go, we've still got the drop on them," Angel retorted in a sharp tone. Then he suddenly started giggling at the look on Spike's face. "Come on, man, you need to de-stress. Maybe you should take a vacation."

That tore it. Plans be damned, he'd had enough. Spike was a millimeter from launching himself at Angel when a voice from the door caught him by surprise.

"Some security you've got out there, Spike. Really makes me wonder if you've got a death wish or something."

Spike turned with a snarl that abruptly turned into a look of surprise. He had been half-expecting to see the Slayer standing there, but instead, it was a petite, dark-haired woman. A jolt ran through him as he recognized her face. Clarissa - the absolute last person he'd expected to see there. Something was subtly different about her - her lazy smile, maybe, or the mysterious look in her eyes.

Spike suddenly barked with laughter. "Security's a joke around here. Always has been. What can we do for you?"

"I came to make nice," she replied, turning her attention to Angel as she strode slowly into the room. "We really got off on the wrong foot before, and, well, I wanted to apologize. It doesn't seem right that we should all be against each other, now does it?"

Clarissa kept her gaze focused on Angel as she stepped forward. Projecting the wickedest smile she could muster, she winked at him. "What do you say? Should we let bygones be bygones?"

He was giving her a wary look as he rose to his feet. Clarissa fought to keep herself level and steady. If he saw even a trace of nervousness, she'd be dead before she could move.

She sensed Drusilla standing up by the cage, while Spike and Willow seemed riveted to her performance - one with amusement, the other with betrayed shock.

"Angel?" Drusilla whispered. He glanced at her for a moment, and then back to Clarissa. A broad smile had come over his face.

"Yeah," he said almost distractedly, in belated response to Clarissa's query. "Of course, I mean - geez, you're right, we shouldn't be fighting."

Clarissa moved closer to him, carefully, licking her lips before speaking. "I feel so bad about the other night... I really want to make it up to you. Anything I can do..."

"Anything?" One of his dark eyebrows arched, his eyes mesmerizing below that brow, and Clarissa fought a sudden pang of weakness. She had all but forgotten the charisma, the physical charm he possessed.

"Well..." She moved around him, trailing a fingertip along his arm. "Perhaps we could discuss it?"

"Angel, I thought we were going to hunt." Drusilla's childish pout had absolutely no effect on the apparently entranced Angel. She had apparently seen all she could stand; Spike didn't blame her; he was starting to feel more than mildly nauseous at the display.

"Later, later," he said dismissively. His gaze was focused on Clarissa, and as the other woman led him from the room on the strength of no more than her smile, Dru flopped into an unhappy pile on a chair.

Spike regarded her with some amusement before wheeling himself over to her. "There, ducks," he said soothingly. "Let Spike make it better." He still wasn't sure what Clarissa was plotting, but so far, he couldn't complain at the results of her efforts.

Willow was still staring at the door through which Clarissa had led Angelus. Her shocked gaze remained fixed in place, though by now, Spike thought, the girl should be used to betrayal by vampires...

"So, you're returning to the fold, hm? Don't tell me - you got tired of being good." Angel couldn't help but smirk as he followed Clarissa out to the balcony. She seated herself and gave him a demure smile.

"Well, you know, I still have to talk Michael into it. Wouldn't be half as much fun without him."

Angel cocked his head thoughtfully, seating himself beside her. "Oh, I don't know about that. Seems we could have plenty of good times without him. Carnage, destruction..."

She chuckled softly, one hand moving to rest lightly on his knee. "You do paint a delightful picture. But won't Drusilla be upset?"

"Ah, she's a child. She'll get over it," he said with a shrug that effectively closed the subject. "I never did realize how beautiful you were as a vampire. Hardly had time to see, last time I saw you."

He moved closer to her on the stone bench. Clarissa felt her limbs go loose as her nerves flooded with adrenaline; one look into his eyes was enough for her to know that he was every inch the predator he'd been when she'd first met him - in fact, he was even scarier now, if that were possible. She met his eyes carefully, trying to hide her fear.

Suddenly he snarled, and without warning her hands were trapped behind her back. His face had lost its human trappings, and golden eyes glared into hers from beneath a thickened, monstrous brow.

"Did you really think you could fool me? I knew from the moment you came in the door that you were trying to set me up, sweetie. You never change, do you? Get a clue--"

"Thanks, I've already got one," she spat back at him.

Though he had her hands together by the wrists, she didn't need to gesture to cast the binding spell. The words of the incantation spilled out of her in a rush, and with every word she spoke, she felt the power build inside her. Angel, caught off guard at first by the incantation, was bound before he could begin to shape a reaction. /Score one for the witch,/ she thought to herself in private delight. He glared at her as she shook free from his grasp, but the spell had done its work well and he could not move to prevent her. Memories of their last confrontation floated through her head. Last time, she had been helpless against him. Now the tables had been turned.

"And now for my final trick," she muttered - and gasped, as a fist appeared almost out of nowhere, descending to the back of Angel's head and knocking him unconscious. Clarissa blinked.

"Sorry, I couldn't resist." Spike was standing next to Angel's body, an acid smile on his face.

"Had to get one last lick in, huh?"

He gave her a half-grin. "Look, Dru took off in a huff, so if you want to get your friend out of here, now would be a good time."

Clarissa gaped at Spike, truly surprised. "What do you mean, my friend?"

He just looked at her, the disapproving stare of one who is fully aware that they're being handed a line. "I know you've been hanging out with the Slayer. Word gets around, small town like this. Just take 'em and go."

She gave up then, decided she'd try to figure everything out later, and turned to lean over the balcony and signal to Buffy and Xander. Miraculously enough, the pair seemed to have actually maintained their positions. As she hefted the body of her sire, she glanced at Spike again. "You're weirding me out, you know?"

Spike shrugged again. "You helped me with Dru. It's a fair cop."

That seemed to be the only explanation she was going to get. She shifted Angel's body and headed inside, aiming for Willow's cage. Setting the vampire down, she knelt by the lock on the door to examine it. The girl, meanwhile, had backed up to the far wall, her eyes round with fright.

"Relax," Clarissa hissed, "I was acting."

"You - you were?" She didn't seem to want to believe her. Clarissa supposed she couldn't blame her, but she didn't have time for an argument.

"Look, I've got Angelus. You want to be mad at me, later's fine. You want to stay?"

Willow, sensibly, didn't argue. Clarissa finally gave the lock a sharp blow and it shattered; the girl darted from the cage as soon as the door was open. Together, they lifted the unconscious body and began to make their way from the room.

She hadn't been conscious before, when Angel had brought her into the mansion, and so Willow was lost after the first turn down a winding corridor. Clarissa's sense of direction was unerring, though, and the night air greeted them within only a few minutes. Right after that, Buffy and Xander were running up the drive to grab Willow in fierce embraces.

Willow had never been quite so relieved to see her friends. Their hugs were quick and loving - Buffy's sisterly, Xander's warm and strong - and she wanted to start crying, but forced the feeling back through sheer will. With her well-being assured, the four began the walk back to the school, one unconscious vampire in tow.

"Comfy, Angelus?"

The vampire only snarled at Clarissa, but despite his best attempts to free himself from his bonds, he was still firmly tied to the chair. Thick, strong rope secured his legs to the seat's forelegs, and his arms were tied with one behind his back, one around his chest, so neatly secured that he couldn't pull them apart without wrenching his arms from their sockets. Giles had taken particular pleasure in binding the vampire as tightly as possible, and none of the assembled company had denied him that grim joy.

"All right." Clarissa gave her Sire a sweet smile and turned to the others. The main table had been cleared of all regular items, including the computer, which was relegated to a book truck for the time being. The centerpiece of the arrangement was the Orb of Thesulah. The smoky crystalline orb rested snugly in a bed of dark red velvet, housed within a delicately carved round wooden box. Around the Orb had been placed crystals of healing and protection; at the four corners of the table were objects representing the four elements. A red candle to the east, for fire; a bowl of water to the south; a stick of incense to the west, for air; and a bowl of salt to the north, for earth. Candles surrounded the entire arrangement, bordering the edges of the rectangular table. Clarissa had decided to place Angelus to the south as well, facing to the north, where she would be standing at the head of the table. That way, the Orb would be directly between them. The only other items on the table were the leather jacket, which lay in a neat pile before Buffy, and a leather bag of runes within Clarissa's easy reach.

The Slayer, her Watcher and companions had been set around the table in a careful pattern. Buffy sat to the east, with Giles to her right and Cordelia to her left; Willow was on the western side of the table, with Xander to her left and Oz to her right. Of them all, only the Watcher and the hacker seemed most at ease.

The odd element out was Michael. He was hovering on the mezzanine level of the library, pacing back and forth in a manner that could only be described as disturbed. Though Clarissa didn't blame him - she was still a little surprised that he'd braved his fear to show at all - his constant motion was beginning to distract her.

"Are we set?" Cordelia, who held the stick of bound sage that would be used to cleanse the air, was starting to bounce impatiently. "We don't have all night, you know."

Buffy gave her a glare, her eyes dark and pained in her pale face. The brunette meekly subsided.

"We are," Clarissa confirmed. "I know this isn't easy for you - and it's bound to be strange, probably weird-feeling to say the least. You're my anchors. You'll be the binding link to reality for me. Whatever you see, whatever happens, I need you to concentrate on the here and now, the truth of the moment. This could get pretty, well..."

"Wiggy?" Willow supplied, eyebrows raised. The vampire nodded briefly to her.

"Yeah. Wiggy. You'll know when it's over, one way or another. Buffy?"

The Slayer reached for the stake she had set on the floor, placing it on her lap. "Gotcha."

Clarissa nodded again. Turning, then, she glanced upwards to where Michael's pacing continued unabated. "Sweetheart?" she said in a cheerful tone of voice.

He paused and looked down at her. "What?"

"I know you're nervous, but you're also being distracting."

Michael gave a quick nod of understanding and seated himself on the railing, torso twisted so that he could view the proceedings from a safe distance. Clarissa smiled warmly up at him and then faced the others again.

"All right. Cordelia, please begin."

The brunette's eyes were anxious as she lit the smudge stick with a pocket lighter, then leaned forward, waving the smoke over the Orb. Clarissa watched for a moment in approval. Aside from the quiet noise of candles muttering to themselves, the library was completely silent. Joining her hands at waist-level, she lifted her chin and began to speak.

"By the fragrance of these herbs, let this space be sacred. Spirits of the interregnum, by your grace I call thee forward."

She leaned forward and picked up the bag of runes, reaching within for four small stone blocks. Her hand froze in the bag then, and everyone turned as one to blink at the library doors as they slammed open.

Standing there between them, looking thoroughly confused and less than pleased, was a short, balding man whose air of authority wavered uncertainly. He fisted hands on hips and began to glare.

"And what, pray tell, is going on here?"