The cemetery is quiet except for the wind moving through the crooked trees and the distant hum of the town beyond the gates. Headstones sit in uneven rows beneath the moonlight, casting long shadows across the grass. It’s the kind of place where trouble usually finds Sunnydale.

Tonight, it’s magic.

Willow kneels in the center of a small circle drawn carefully into the dirt, candles flickering around her as she reads softly from an open spell book resting on the ground. Her voice is focused but slightly nervous — the way it always gets when she’s trying something new.

Buffy stands nearby with her arms crossed, glancing between Willow and the surrounding cemetery like she’s waiting for something to jump out of the dark.

“So,” Buffy says slowly, “remind me again what this spell does?”

Willow keeps reading for another second before answering. “It’s just a locating spell. Nothing dangerous. It’s supposed to help track unusual dimensional disturbances.”

“Dimensional disturbances,” Xander repeats skeptically.

“That sounds like the beginning of a very bad idea.”

“Relax,” Willow says quickly. “It’s controlled magic.”

A few feet away, Spike leans casually against a mausoleum, cigarette glowing faintly in the dark. His coat moves slightly in the wind as he watches the scene unfold with mild amusement.

“Red’s idea of ‘controlled’ tends to end with something exploding,” he mutters.

Buffy shoots him a look. “Helpful.”

Willow rolls her eyes but continues the spell, her voice growing stronger as the words begin to take effect.

The candles flicker.

The air shifts.

Then suddenly—

The circle erupts in a burst of white light.

The ground trembles just slightly as something tears through the center of the spell like reality itself is being forced open.

Willow’s eyes widen instantly.

“Wait— that’s not supposed to—”

Before she can finish the sentence, a figure appears in the middle of the circle and collapses onto the grass.

The light disappears just as quickly as it came.

Silence falls across the cemetery.

Buffy moves first, stepping closer carefully.

“…Okay,” she says slowly. “That’s new.”

Willow scrambles to her feet, staring at the person who just appeared like her brain is trying to catch up with what just happened.

“I didn’t summon anything!” she says quickly.

Xander squints. “You definitely summoned something.”

Spike pushes himself off the mausoleum now, curiosity finally replacing his boredom as he walks toward the circle.

The person on the ground begins to stir.

You.

Your head spins as you slowly sit up, the cold grass beneath your hands and the unfamiliar cemetery stretching out around you.

And then you look up.

Right at them.

Buffy.

Willow.

Xander.

And standing just behind them, blue eyes locked onto you with sharp interest—

Spike.

He studies you for a long moment before a slow smirk appears.

“Well,” he says casually, voice smooth and amused, “that’s a new one.”

His gaze flicks briefly to Willow before returning to you again.

“Mind explaining how you just dropped into Sunnydale like you fell out of the telly?”

The group is staring at you.

The cemetery is suddenly very quiet.

And Spike looks entirely too interested in whatever answer you’re about to give.