It was the heat that made her gasp. It was a dry, oven like heat that sucked the moisture right off her eyeballs. The sun beat down harshly on her exposed skin and she hoped that she would find him before she got sunburnt. The only up side was that sweat didn't have time to linger before being evaporated.
She really hated getting all sweaty.
Sunnydale had been comfortably warm and dry and Rio had been tropically hot and humid. But here it was hot and dry and dusty and poverty stricken.
The town was a ramshackle collection of painted mud brick buildings with corrugated iron roofs that had seen better days. The town and indeed the whole country had seen better days.
Looking down at the scrap of paper she compared the name on it with the faded lettering on the building in front of her. Tracking him down hadn't been easy, which she reasoned had been part of his plan. It certainly didn't help that she didn't speak the language around here. She entered the building.
It felt cooler inside without the sun on her and while an ancient fan squeaked away in the corner pushing the hot air about the room forlornly. The old man behind the bar looked at her strangely and she figured that he hadn't seen too many people that looked like her. Other than the old man there was only one other person there. Slouched over his drink, his dishevelled look spoke volumes about his current state of mind.
She nearly backed out at this point but she shook off that idea. She had come thousands of miles to find him, although she wasn't even sure why she was doing this. Deep down a small and forgotten part of her knew why but she never listened to that part of herself anymore.
Maybe that's why she was here. Maybe that's why she had searched for him.
"Willow."
His familiar voice brought her out of her thoughts. He looked at her with a mix of surprise and wariness in his remaining eye. She didn't blame him for looking at her like. It had been over a year since they had last communicated and now all of a sudden she appears out of the blue.
Xander had found his place, a place where he could escape the pain and horrors of his former life.
Horrors that included her.
Willow sat down at the bar next to Xander who gazed at her a while longer before saying something in the local language to the old man who poured her a drink and sat it in front of her.
She sipped away at her drink, the harsh alcohol burning its way down her throat. It was ridiculous that she had come all this way to see him but now she was here, she found she didn't know what to say to him.
"How's Kennedy?" he asked. He wasn't particularly interested in the answer but it was better than the awkward silence.
Willow shrugged.
"Dead." She informed him with an un-phased tone. Xander examined her face and saw a complete lack of grief.
In fact he saw a complete lack of a lot of emotions, save a world-weariness which mirrored his own.
"Dead, huh?" he took a large sip of his whisky "What got her?"
"Vamp."
"A master vamp?"
"Nope. Just an ordinary, run of the mill vamp who got lucky." Willow tossed down more of the whisky. The sudden intake of alcohol brought a redness to her face that overtook the redness caused by the harsh African sun.
Xander called out to the bar tender who topped up both his and Willow's glasses. A quarter of Xander's drink went in one hit.
"Vamp getting lucky. Lots of that going around."
Willow knew the double meaning of Xander's words. Vamps killed quite a few new Slayers, usually before the new Watchers Council could track them down.
And then there was Spike and Angel...
"So, how come you ain't all black haired, kill the world?" Xander's question was harsh but neither Scooby cared. They had known each other far too long and by this stage neither gave a shit about niceties.
"Why bother? It's not like she was Tara or anything. Besides, I didn't want you coming round and telling me some half assed story about a yellow crayon or a blue pencil case, or some such crap."
"Pity." Xander said into his drink "The planet could use a good wiping out right about now. Still, dead girlfriends shouldn't go unmourned."
Xander said something to the old man and six shot glasses and a fresh bottle of whisky were placed in front of them. Xander filled the shot glasses and put three in front of Willow and three in front of himself. Picking up a glass Xander proposed a toast.
"To Tara." He said, downing the drink and slamming it down on the table. Willow picked up one of her shot glasses.
"To Cordelia." She gunned down her drink then coughed as the cheep alcohol went down. Xander picked up the second glass.
"To Kennedy."
Willow reciprocated.
"To Anya."
Xander picked up his last shot glass of whisky.
"To Buffy, may she decide to date one of us."
"To Buffy."
Together they downed their last shot glass. Willow's eyes watered at all the alcohol and she could feel its affects creeping up on her.
Willow had her reasons for hating Buffy. Xander had his.
Xander leaned back in his chair and looked at the redhead.
"What do you want Willow? You've travelled thousands of miles to the armpit of Africa and it's not just to tell me about Kennedy. So, what is it?"
"I'm looking for someone."
"So? Why don't you do a locator spell?" Xander suggested.
"Can't. It won't work. Magic can't help. But you can. I hope."
That surprised Xander greatly. Willow was one of the most powerful Wicca's in the world. She had the power to snuff out the entire world but to have her admit that her powers couldn't help find one person?
"And what makes you think that I can help?"
"You were the last person to see this girl, Xander. Please, help me find her."
Xander thought about it for a moment. His initial impulse was to tell Willow to go to hell. He was tired of throwing himself into one battle after another for nothing. He had paid a high price over the years and now wanted nothing more than to curl up in a bottle in traditional Harris style.
But he didn't tell her to go to hell.
Under her mask of hardened uncaring, there was a look of... desperation. Ancient instincts both thought and wished dead, stirred.
"Alright, I'll help." He told her reluctantly. "Who's this girl I've supposed to have seen last?"
Willow reached into her pocket and handed him a photo.
"That's the little girl I'm looking for." She quietly admitted.
It was a picture of Willow and Xander at their eighth grade cotillion.
"And by the looks of it, we need to find that little boy too." She added.
Xander looked at the picture, lost for a moment in the memories. He grunted then flicked the photograph back at Willow.
"The boy's dead and I suspect so is that little girl." He declared, pouring himself another drink.
Willow shook her head in disagreement.
"No, I don't think they're dead. I think they're in hiding."
"Yeah, hiding from the pair of monsters they became. Killed by the monsters more like it."
"Xander! I'm not a hundred percent sure why I need to do this or even how I'm going to do this. All I know is that I need to do this and I can't do it without you. Please, help me."
Xander finished his drink then peered intently into Willow's eyes.
He reached a decision.
"OK, I'm in."
Willow just nodded, the faintest ghost of a smile on her face.
"So, Lara Croft, what do we do next to find these lost kids?"
She hesitated, then looked down glumly.
"I don't know."
Xander scratched idly at the edge of his eye patch as he thought about their next moves.
"Willow, do you trust me?"
She lifted her head.
Did she trust him?
It was a good question, but it boiled down to the fact that she had no reason not to trust him.
"Yeah, sure."
"Then I need to make a phone call."
He got up and headed over to an old telephone sitting on a corner of the bar. He dialled a number from memory.
"Xander Harris to speak to Rupert Giles immediately." He instructed the junior Watcher on the other end of the phone. It was a short wait before Giles answered. Willow couldn't hear the Watcher's end of the conversation.
"Giles, it's Xander... How am I? I'll tell you how I am; I quit... That's right, I quit. In fact I've got Willow sitting here right now and she quits too... No, I'm not joking... No, I'm not gonna put Willow on the phone... No, I'm not gonna tell you why... Here's an idea, how about you grow a pair for once, kill whatever evil undead Buffy's fucking these days, then fly her anorexic ass down here and tell her she can do my job now... I don't care if it was rude... I don't care if you tell Buffy. Hell, I'd love you to tell her exactly what I said 'cause it'll save me the phone call. In fact you can also tell the bitch that the next time she dies I'm gonna lay three feet of concrete on top of her grave to make sure she fucking stays dead this time... Whatever."
Xander hung up the phone then sat back down with Willow.
"Harsh much?"
Xander waved off her comment with his drink.
"It's a harsh world and Giles needs to wake up to himself. Buffy is way out of control and you know it."
"Be that as it may, it doesn't mean you had to be rude to Giles." She scalded.
"Alright, alright! I'll write him an apology later! But I still stand by what I said."
"And speaking of what you said, what's with the big idea of you saying that I quit?"
"Look, if you wanna ring Giles and beg for your job back then go right ahead. But the way I figure it is that you can either keep your job of sending more girls into the meat grinder or try to find that little girl. On or the other, you can't do both."
Willow considered this for a while.
"There's still the issue of money. Neither one of us has a job now and I don't like the chances of an alcoholic, one eyed carpenter or a college drop out magic addict getting a job anytime soon."
"Money is no issue thanks to the estate of the late Anya Christina Emanuella Jenkins. Between the investments and the life insurance I wouldn't need to work for a couple of life times. Plus the cost of living around here hardly scratched what the Council was paying me. I figure we're covered money wise."
The two sat in silence as they contemplated their next move.
"So where do you want to go? For the record, I don't wanna go back to the States, hell I wanna give the whole of North America a miss and I've had more than enough of Africa."
"Well, ditto on South America. I guess we should avoid Europe as well, 'cause of, you know... Buffy." Willow added.
"I'm sick and tired of having to use a phrase book for everything other than getting drunk, so where ever it is, they need to speak English. So where's that leave us?" Xander asked Willow.
Willow was doing her best to remember her geography through the buzz of the alcohol.
"Mmmm... a journey of self discovery... sounds like a Walkabout."
Xander looked at her in confusion.
"Huh?"
"Pack your bags Xander. We're heading Down Under."