Willow walked slowly along the sidewalk, smiling dreamily to herself as she imagined Xander
stroking her hair tenderly and then leaning in for a kiss...
She was shaken abruptly from her dream when two tall, broad-shouldered men approached her,
their eyes firmly fixed on hers.
"Uh...can I...help you?" Willow asked nervously.
"Sure." One of the men reached his hand into his jacket and tugged a crisp photograph out. He
held it up to her face. "Do you know this girl?" Willow glanced up at the picture. It was Buffy
against a white background, with a thin smile on her lips.
"What's she done wrong?"
"Do you know her?" the second man pressed, angrily.
"Yeah," Willow replied hesitantly, hitching her bag up her shoulder.
"Good." One of the men stepped behind her and clamped his hand firmly over her mouth.
Willow squealed in surprise, and her captor wrapped a strong arm around her waist, trapping
her arms at her sides. Lurching slightly, he lifted her so that her feet no longer touched the
ground. The other man ran over to their waiting car and tugged the back door open. Willow was
shoved inside and before she had a chance to scream for help, the door was slammed and
locked in her face. The two men slid quickly into the front of the car, starting the engine and
pulling sharply away from the side of the road.
"What's going on?" Willow yelped, both anger and fear rising in her throat. "Where are you
taking me?!"
No answer.
"Where are you taking me?!"
No answer.
Willow glanced sadly out of the blacked-out window. If only she'd taken that ride home with
Buffy, she'd be feeding her fish right now, in the safety and comfort of her own room.
Buffy.
What *did* these men want with her anyway? Were they vampires? No. Couldn't be. After all,
they'd just snatched her out of the bright sunlight and no smoke detectors had gone off. Willow
sighed. This would just have to be a game of waiting.
Suddenly the engine softened, and the car slowed to a halt. The two men grinned at each other
before opening their doors and stepping out. Willow moaned softly. Why weren't they letting her
out?
A hissing sound from the front of the car made her turn around. Something was spiralling out of
the air vents. Gas. Willow gasped. This didn't look good. Thinking quickly, she crouched down
below the seats in the back, as low as possible and covered her mouth with the sleeve of her
cardigan. From down there she couldn't see anything, but she knew that the men were still
grinning like Cheshire Cat's.
"Slayerette intuition," she thought wistfully. Closing her eyes, she allowed a tear to run down her
cheek, whilst the gas swirled overhead; becoming thicker and thicker by each minute; slowly
consuming the oxygen supply of the car...
To be continued...
