I want them to import Phantom Dennis to the Hyperion. He and Andrew can commiserate.

a Phantom Sous-chef.

Mixed up as to which thread I want to put this post in:

Fay, this is a beautiful, beautiful Andrew/Warren piece.

Ohhhh... Andrew Road Trip! He should have the Big Board.

"This" (gesturing with Williams Sonoma spatula at drawing of vaguely neo-Med building ) "is the Hyperion, where we live. It's really kinda cool. It used to be a demon-infested hotel. And this over here, that's Wolfram & Hart, where they keep the zombie lawyers...."

I want to see Andrew knock all their socks off with really good pastry. I mean, I want Wesley to fall at his feet over mille feuille, goddamnit.

Ooh! And given Fred's typical attitude towards carbo-loading and her own geekiness, she might get a crush on Andrew, who would be completely oblivious.

Plus, jealous Gunn, always a plus. Then, there'd be the fun of a jealous Wes, who wouldn't be able to figure out exactly why he was jealous, or of whom.

I am so darned close to finishing the whole story/chapter/big chunk of the ongoing tale. If I post this, though, I won't have an excuse not to trudge onwards to the end.

The fence around Sunrise Grove had long since been breached. From the look of Sunrise Lane, the main street going through the cancelled development, several cars a day used it as a shortcut between the occupied neighborhoods and the old state highway on the other side. Forty years ago, before the freeway, Sunrise Grove would have been a thriving area.

Willow smelled vampires among the unfinished, decrepit houses. Well, not so much the smell of vampires, but the sense of them. A prickling along the nerves that said supernatural things were in the area. One of those witchy things, she imagined.

"Here, vampy, vampy, vampy," she murmured to herself as she walked down the black, desolate street. Maybe she should have brought a flashlight. None of the streetlights here worked, and she was working off starlight citylight reflected from the scattered clouds. She paused at the crossroad of the main street and a hundred feet of concrete that was supposed to be a road. "It's got to be here somewhere."

"Looking for something, pretty lady?" said a voice from the darkness.

"Yes, I am," she said with no little relief. "I'm looking for the recreation center."

An unassuming man stepped out of the deeper shadows. His blue jeans and t-shirt attracted no comment, but something in the swagger told Willow everything she needed to know.

"I don't think there's anything at the rec center that you want. Any business you have you can settle with me."

She couldn't dust every annoying vampire she met tonight, she had work to do. "No, I really need to go to the rec center. And please don't use the line, 'I didn't order my dinner delivered,' please, that is so passe," she added, seeing him about to speak again. "I need to see Ripper."

The vampire jumped a little. "How do you know Ripper?"

"Never mind. Is he here?"

A half-glance into the darkness told Willow the direction, but he was suspicious when he turned back to her. "What do you want with Ripper?"

"I'm not here to slay him or anything like that. I need his help." She managed not to back up as he approached, but her hand was on the stake in her pocket.

"You're just a human. What kind of help could Ripper give you?"

"Never mind. Is he here?"

He nodded after a moment's thought. "Yeah, he's here. And I bet he'd be real curious why a little mortal girl is looking for him. After you." He gestured down the road.

No way was she going to let a vampire walk behind her. "Oh, I couldn't. After you."

The fangs and ridges came out. "I insist."

They glared at each other a moment, then Willow sighed impatiently and started walking. "Just for your information, I've already dusted one of your sort tonight for annoying me."

"Tough little girl, all worked up and looking for trouble."

Willow turned and found the vampire well within arm's reach. "You have no idea." She remembered Tara crying as she was wheeled away, and her fingers itched for mayhem.

The vampire leaned back a little, though he didn't step away. "OK, then. Just up the street. You can see the lights."

She nodded and strode up the street.

A female vampire lounged at the door of the recreation center. "Why, Sammy, how sweet, you brought take-out."

"Not hardly, Angie. This one's for Ripper."

"He's got you bringing in his meals now? Or does he want her for Spike?"

Sammy looked at Willow. "She came here. I didn't go get her."

"How badly is Spike hurt?" Willow frowned.

Angie studied her. "What makes you think Spike's hurt? How would you know?"

"Oh, never mind." Willow tried to go past, but Angie caught her arm. Willow turned, her hand moving. "*Repello.*" Angie was thrown back against the wall.

"O-kay," Sammy said slowly. "That explains a great deal. You're a sorcerer too."

"Witch, actually. You going to show me the way or do I just go yelling for him?"

"No, that would be bad. You might interrupt him at something, and then he'd get very annoyed."

For the first time, Willow hesitated, realizing that the Ripper she was looking for might not be as pleased to see her as the Giles she remembered. "What kind of things?"

Sammy raised his eyebrows and just looked knowing. "All kinds of things. Come on, then."

Angie got to her feet slowly, growling at Willow, who didn't even look over.

Willow might have been more interested in the arrangement of the newest vampire lair in town if she hadn't had other things on her mind. She follwed the vampire with the singularly unscary name of Sammy into the rec center. The place was surprisingly tidy, not decrepit like the ruined factory Spike had occupied on his arrival. Giles' influence? Something reminded her not to think of him as Giles, that the genial ex- Watcher no longer existed. The scary guy who had frozen her and Tara on Buffy's front lawn bore no resemblance to the subject of Willow's younger fantasies--or, at least, no resemblance that Willow admitted to.

Thought of Tara being frozen led to memories of Tara whimpering like a frightened young animal as her broken hand was mended. Thoughts and memories together were overwhelmed by the tearing desire to rip that blonde god-slut to pieces.

Sammy led her down a flight of dark, half-finished concrete stairs. The hallway at the bottom got its light from the open door of a room down the way. Loud electric guitar music came from inside, reminding Willow briefly of Oz. The singer's words were actually understandable, meaning the music was something Giles would listen to. Something about warriors from the land of the ice and snow.

Sammy went to the door and knocked loudly. "Hey, Ripper!"

"Yes?"

"Somebody here to see you."

A curse was lost in the music before the music was turned off. "Who in hell's name would be coming around here to see me?"

Shaking a little inside, Willow stepped around Sammy. "Me."

She barely noticed Giles standing next to a stereo on a bookshelf. The rest of the room devoured her attention. So this was where the missing books from the Magic Box had gone. But there were none of the sparkly gimcracks that the store had sold to tourists and wanna-bes. The implements scattered about spoke of power in use, dark, deep power. Several skulls rested in a row on another shelf, only one of which was human. Old human, dark with age and smoke, smeared with faded runes. The other skulls had horns and spines or strange arrangements of eye sockets. Willow wanted to know what kinds of creatures they had come from and what they were used for.

Giles strode forward, yanking her attention to him. "Willow! What are you doing here?"

From the couch on the far side of the room, Spike was levering himself up to a sitting position. "Red? What the hell?"

Sammy drew back, watching with interest.

Willow took a deep breath. "I need your help, Gi-- Ripper."

Giles glanced at Sammy and frowned. "Thank you, Sammy." Pouting, Sammy left. Giles took Willow's arm and pulled her into the workroom. "Willow, what's wrong?"

"Let the girl sit down," Spike interrupted, getting painfully to his feet and pulling over a chair.

Willow stared at Spike as she sat. "They said you were hurt, but I didn't know it was this bad ..."

He waved off her concern. "I'm mending. Why the hell are you here?"

"Did you come alone?" Giles added. "It's incredibly foolish of you to just wander in here. And how did you find us?"

"I asked. And I kept asking until I got answers. I think I scared Willy," she said with a faintly proud smile.

Giles glanced at Spike in surprise, then knelt next to Willow and put a hand on her knee. "What's happened?"

The words refused to come the fist time she tried to say it. "Glory ... hurt Tara."

"Bloody hell," Spike muttered.

"How badly?" Giles asked, being as calm as he knew how.

"She--she's at the hospital, Glory broke her hand. And ..."

"And ..."

"Glory thought she was the Key," Willow whispered. "One of her demons followed Dawn from school to the shop."

"Dawn's all right?" Spike asked sharply.

"Uh huh. We caught him at the shop, he told us we were all being watched while Glory went to get the Key. Tara's the newest of us, so Glory figured ..."

Giles nodded. "That makes sense, if you didn't know about how the monks played with everyone's memories. And then?"

"I--I was supposed to meet her at the cultural fair, I went after her, and Glory was there, and ..." The tears were slipping away from her again. "Glory took my Tara. She took my girl's mind."

Giles pulled her into his arms. "Willow, I'm so sorry."

She shoved him back. "Don't be sorry! Help me make her pay!"

"Excuse me?"

Willow gestured around the room. "Show me! Teach me what I can do to make that bitch pay!" She jumped out of the chair and went to the books. "One of these has to have the answer. I saw it once--" She found the volume she wanted, "Darkest Magic," and yanked it off the shelf. Giles was suddenly there, taking the book out of her hands. "Give it back."

"No. This isn't the way."

"Give me that book."

The temperature in the room dropped, and air currents that shouldn't have existed in a basement began swirling.

Spike took out a cigarette. "Is this the famous resolve face I've heard so much about?" he asked calmly, shielding his lighter from the building wind. He blinked at the look he got from Willow.

Giles grabbed her shoulder. "Stop it, Willow. This won't do any good." He met her challenging glare without blinking. "Magic and emotion do not mix well. You must control the power, not the other way around."

"Thank you, Obi-Wan," Spike muttered.

"Shut up. Willow, what are you planning?"

"To find something to destroy her, the way she's destroyed Tara." She reached for the book again, but Giles pulled it away.

"You're not strong enough to destroy Glory with magic."

The searching winds got fiercer. "Then make me strong enough," Willow snarled.

Giles eyes went hard. "Certainly. Which demon shall I summon so that you can sell it your soul for your revenge?"

Willow blinked, and the winds dropped.

Spike took a deep drag off his cigarette as he watched. "Doubt the little shy witch would be happy to find out what you'd done when she gets back."

"Well, she's not going to get back, now, is she! Glory destroyed her mind!"

Spike looked at Giles. "Not what those Knights said."

"Good lord, you're right," Giles breathed. He shoved "Darkest Magic" back on the shelf and went to his desk to dig among the papers.

Willow reached out slowly towards the book. The answer to her grief was there, the way to transfigure the blades of agony into a weapon that she could against Glory. The leather was soft under her fingertips, strangely warm against her skin. Her hand wrapped around the spine the way it used to wrap around Tara's fingers.

Pale, slender fingers pushed the book back onto the shelf against her pull. "Best not," Spike said softly.

She started to protest, then was distracted by the bruises still discoloring his face. "Xander said you were a mess."

He flinched but didn't move his hand from the book. "Boy's a regular poet, isn't he."

"Don't you want to get back at her, too?"

"Sure, but I'm not going to make myself some slimy creature's plaything for the privilege."

just a few more pages and I can finish this and move on to the action/adventure, blood and guts, mayhem everywhere, fun part of the job.

edit: Slumbernut for a damned funny Spielberg movie about World War II.

Whee! Loverly stuff, Connie. I like Ripper's choice of music, and I find it delightfully ironic that the two soulless characters are the ones steering Willow away from dark magic.