Willow flew hesitantly down the corridor.  She still wasn't too sure about this flying thing - a slight error in navigation left her floating above the church of the presence at the conception.  It wasn't easy to extricate herself from the spire after a moments lapsed concentration, and at long last she was forced to use the druidic spell for 'the removal of sharp objects from painful places'.  Now unhindered, she returned to the chemistry lab.

Willow peered in through the window, and dropped to the floor in horror.  Angel was taking the chocolate starfish.  Willow, having had doubts about Angel for some time, was more interested in the logistics of the scene before her.  As Angel arched his back in a second of true happiness, his soul could be seen erupting from him like, well, a bit like the way he had just erupted.  Now, undoubtedly evil, Angelus suddenly - and rather inexplicably - developed a tattoo across his back, a design which appeared to be a piss-poor copy of something from the Book of Kells.  He ripped himself free from where he had been neatly inserted and looked around as he pulled on his trousers.  He picked up a marked glass jar, and stepped back to the prone, exposed body.
   "Oh no!"  Willow murmured.  "He's gonna sod 'im with the sodium!"  This was really too much for her.  An electrical aura surrounded her and she flew off down the corridor in search of weapons.

Giles, screaming out at the exploding agony in his already torn and mutilated body, finally lost his mind.  This was nothing like the days when he and Eyghon and half a dozen others had experimented in the dark rooms of North London.  Raving insanity set in, and he closed his eyes, welcoming the oblivion brought by it.  He moaned softly in lust and ground his body further onto the bench as cold hands grasped his hips...

Willow entered the library at high speed and careened off a bookshelf.  Picking herself up, having landed in a crumpled heap of Giles' old vests, she looked around dizzily and with slight nausea.  The lightening, sparking out sideways in searing green streaks, matched the electric colour of her eyes.  Her power grew as she noticed Buffy's dead but strangely animated features.
   "Bugger."  She noted in dismay.  "There goes the threesome."
   "Don't be so sure!"  Buffy's eyes snapped open, and a strange smile played across her lips, revealing a pair of pearly fangs.
   "Count me out.  I'm knackered."  Xander murmured lazily from where he sat in the shadows, his feet propped up on a nearby table and his clothes covered in what looked like bird shit.
   Buffy walked over to her sire (I'm not too hot on this vamp stuff, but I think that's what it's called), swinging her hips in a hot way.  She hung her arms round his neck and whispered into his ear.
   "She..."  She nibbled at his earlobe.  "She looks good enough to eat."
   "I'll, uh, leave you two love birds alone then."  Willow stated as she backed out of the library, completely forgetting why she went in there in the first place.

Willow knew there was only one person who could help her now - Giles.  The lightening burst from her eyes still.  Her long hair was replaced by flames, the flowing burning light streaming behind her as she flew back to the lab.
   Willow arrived at the lab, calling out as she did so.  "Giles!  Buffy and-"  She stopped.
   Oz's segmented body lay amid a dark pool of blood.  The gory mess left on the chainsaw left little to the imagination as far as discovering the cause of death.  With a choked sob, the Draiodoir fell to her knees, cradling the young musician's lifeless head.  Giles did his best to look innocent, while Angelus laughed in appreciation, still playing with his baguette.
   Willow bowed her head, then stood.  "How could you kill him?!"  She demanded of the soul-less vampire.
   "With a chainsaw, I guess!"  He giggled.
   Willow looked imploringly at Giles, who nonchalantly shrugged.
   "It's not as if I liked him, but he was my free ticket for getting into gigs!"  She protested.  With her back to the werewolf (or rather, ex-werewolf) she didn't see the blood splattered fingers of Oz's left hand clench into a fist then loosen once again.
   The young witch though about the situation.  She now held powers beyond mortal comprehension.  She could restore Oz - she held Ankh, the power over life, the power over death.  Unfortunately, she really couldn't be arsed to complete the ritual which, according to the Book of Ammon-Ra, required the mummification of 700 cats.  Besides, the RSPCA might have something to say about that.  Instead, there was one other option.
   "Time reversal."  She muttered.  There was a sweet gig coming up on Friday, and she needed Oz.  To get in, that is.
   Closing her eyes and breathing in hard as she tilted her head back, she murmured the secret majik words:
   "If I could turn back time,
   If I could walk awaaaaay!"
   (And why not?!  I mean.  I know it's a crappy plot device, but to be honest, its way loads better than most of the ones on Star Trek.)

A blinding blue special effect engulfed her, then faded.  She found herself lying on a bed, bathed in sweat.
   "Kinky!"  She thought.  "Wonder what's going on?"
   Then she felt her whole body judder in pain.  For a second she could barely breathe, but as the pain subsided she began to recover.  For the first time, she noticed her father grasping her by the hand.
   "It's okay."  He encouraged her.  "You'll soon be a mummy!"
   Realisation hit Willow simultaneously with the next contraction; she was about to give birth.  To herself.
   This was just too weird.  Using the last ounce of her strength she summoned her majik, and was instantly rewarded by the presence of that bad bluish special effect.

"Oh boy!"  She groaned.  Willow looked around to see if her father was still there.  He wasn't, but her relief was short-lived.  At the bar stool next to her sat a familiar looking man.
   "Brain Swiss-cheesed?"  He asked casually.
   "Hey!  Aren't you-"
   "Sam Beckett."  He confirmed sadly.  "Since that rather pathetic last episode I've been trapped in this shit hole."
   "What about Al?  You know, the pointless and frankly unfunny attempt at providing humour in the production of ill-advised fashion?"
   "Huh?"  He mumbled into his beer bottle.
   "What's Al doing?"  Willow asked simply.
   "Oh.  Exceptionally bad plot device.  To be honest, though, I'm not sure.  The explanation lost even me."
   Willow and Sam sat in silence for several minutes.
   "Isn't there something you should be doing?"  Sam asked eventually.
   "Mmmmmmm.  But the thing is, this crappy parody attempt has left me without the will to live.  I really can't carry on."
   "I cannae dae it Cap'n!  I jus' dinnae ha' the pooer!"  Scotty yelled unnecessarily from the background.
   Sam ignored him.  No, you have to get back, you know"  His voice switched to that of a woman.  "Driven by an unknown force to change history for the better...  Leaping from life to life, striving  to put right what once went wrong, each time hoping that his next would be the leap home."  His voice returned to normal.  "Or," he suggestively growled, his hand under her blouse and reaching for her breasts.  "We could just-"
   He stopped as her hand reached for his groin and crushed his dangly bits.
   "You can't blame me!"  He squeaked.  "I've been stuck in this bar with Scotty for 15 years!"
   Willow began to pace the bar thoughtfully, carefully avoiding the pile of sick (No, it wasn't me - I was at Colin's).  She stopped as a thought struck her.
   "I'll try the spell in Gaelic - that's always mystical, and maybe I'll have more luck:
   da fheadfadh me cas ar ais re
   da fheadfadh me fag ansin!"
   "Good riddance!"  Sam said to his bottle of beer as the blue light fuzzed around the disappearing witch.
   "Aye."  Agreed Scotty.  "But what a terrrrrrrrrible trade."  He indicated the sumo wrestler, Dump Truck, who now stood in her place.

Willow, and the special effect, emerged outside of the chemistry lab.  Looking in through the window once again, she saw Angel stalking the terrified Ripper as he slowly unzipped his trousers.  Taking a deep breath, readying herself for what she had to do, Willow kicked the door open dramatically.
   She only just avoided being knocked unconscious as the heavy, yet, typical of Sunnydale, evil entrance, bounced off the lab wall and came hurtling back towards her.
   "Okay Angel.  That's far enough.  You stick that in my librarian and I'm gonna coat your genitals in fish paste and dunk them in a pool of hungry pirhanas."  Willow threatened him, the flowing lightening in her eyes forcing Angel back.
   "Willow!...  I, uh...  Umm...  I was just..."  Angel stammered hesitantly, backing away from the witch.
   "You were just about to take him up the back alley?  Isn't it enough that you tortured him just a series ago, now you want to bugger him?  Jesus!  If this is you not evil-"
   Angel looked at his feet guiltily.  "I, uh..."  He began.  "I didn't know what I was doing - it was the baguette - it made me do it!"
   That old excuse again!"  Willow scoffed.  She looked him up and down, noting that the black hat and pencil-thin moustache had gone.  The vampire stood there, looking no more threatening than a biiiiiiiiig fluppy puppy with bad teeth.  Still, Willow knew that she had just one option.
   "I'm sorry, but I can't let you do it.  Dark brooding pathetic guy and regular romantic tension I could cope with, but there is no way I'm gonna let you head off to Los Angeles so you don't fuck Buffy.  I mean, what a terrible pun - La Pueblo de Los Angeles, but there's only one of you.  It would be okay if it was La Pueblo Del Angel, but it's not.  Couldn't you have gone to Denver?  I bet you haven't even seen 'Things to do in Denver when you're dead', and doesn't that title just say it all?  Anyway, you can't do that to Giles!  I mean, think of the uproar in the Giles Appreciation Society - there'd be a lynching for sure!  Even if-"
   Willow stopped, realising that she was ranting.  Angel looked at her with his best puppy dog eyes looking suitably hurt.  It was that look that decided her - the 'I'm so depressed because I used to have a good time being undead but now look at me I feel so guilty' look, complete with stoop.  Angel was a warrior in the fight against evil, but he was also a liability.  That wasn't why she had to kill him.  She didn't give a flying pig's fart about the fight against evil, but it was that bloody stoop for no apparent reason that really pissed her off.  Besides, she knew that if he made it to the end of the parody in one piece, there was no guarantee that he wouldn't take off his shirt and practice Wing Chun in the dark.
   That thought was too much for her.  She gathered up her majikal powers, and reached out with her mind for the baguette.  A small gesture sent the bread stick flying across the room.  Unfortunately, having had only twenty minutes to practice her new-found skills, her aim was crap.
   "Bloody hell!"  Giles grunted as the baguette hit him square in the chest.  It was lucky that the dubious stains on his vest had produced a kevlar-like substance which easily deflected the bread stick.
   "You useless bint!"  He yelled at Willow.  "You'll need to hit him with a stake!"
   "Medium rare."  Requested Angel eagerly.
   "I don't have one on me."  Willow ignored the vampire.
   "I can get one from Tesco."  Angel offered helpfully.  "Could pick up some whiskey and cream, that goes well with a nice sirloin..."
   Giles groaned.  "Well go and get one from the library.  There's enough of them there."
   "What about a red wine sauce?"  Angel suggested.
   "I'm not going in there - Buffy and Xander are all, you know, Grrrrrs."  Willow protested.
   "We'd have to get some red wine anyway."  Angel pointed out to the two people purposefully not listening.  "I mean, you could hardly have white wine with red meat, could you?"
   "They're actually vampires?  Who turned them?"  Giles demanded.
   "Le petite mignon?!"  Angel called excitedly.
   "He turned them?"  Giles asked.
   "No, that world-famous Breton dish, le petite mignon.  Juicy little number-"  Angel was obsessed.
   "I think it was Spike, judging from that really bad accent of Xander's."  Willow mused.
   "Could I please have some money?  I've only got doubloons on me."  Angel asked.
   The Watcher and the witch both turned to him and snarled, in unison "Could you please shut the fuck up?!"
   All three of them turned quickly and looked at the door which flew open as Doyle entered.  He ran in, then stopped.
   "Sorry, wrong show!"  He apologised, and ran out once again.
   Willow opened her mouth as if to say something, but was interrupted by Angel asking "You reckon he had a steak?"
   "I wish."  Giles muttered.
   Willow could take no more.  Summoning her Chi, her whole life force, she screamed.  The high pitched living noise resounding in waves that rolled across the room.  Giles covered his ears with his vest, blocking off all light, air and more importantly, sound.  Angel, however, at the receiving end of that scream, began to shake.  Without warning, his head exploded, sending  grey mush across the lab.  Willow closed her mouth just in time to avoid a large lump of dead brain matter and decayed skull which streamed towards her.  She looked at Giles, slumped at her feet, who slowly began to emerge from the safety of his vest.  She knelt down beside him.
   Suddenly, unbelievably, they reached for each other.  Giles gripped her tightly, the embrace of one survivor to another, emotions strong, but irrational.  Before he realised what he was doing, Giles kissed Willow, long and hard on the lips.  Although his blood was racing through his veins, he broke away, slightly ashamed at having acted so irresponsibly.  He reached for the pack of condoms he had bought from the vending machine, but stopped, and waited for the slap that was sure to follow.
   To his surprise, Willow's hand did not connect with his face.  Instead, the young witch looked up at his eyes with a mixture of mischief and lust.  After the slightest of pauses - long enough for her to shrug a silent "Hell, why not?!" - Willow moved in.  Her hands grasped Giles' head, fingers twining  among the curly hair, and she kissed  with the suction of a brand new Hoover..  Giles could hardly believe what was happening - it wasn't his deepest fantasy, hell, the only leather in sight was her shoes.  He remembered his mop sitting  in the broom cupboard with a guilty start, but he could feel his cock rising as her hands moved down his back  and reached  for his tight, waiting buttocks.  Willow felt a large hand reach through her blouse and another between her legs.  She wouldn't have minded, but Giles was still holding her by the shoulders.
   Giles was in trouble now.  The delicate hands which had been stroking his butt had moved round the front and were fumbling with his trouser button.  It was too much for him, and he came right there and then.  Collapsing with his head resting against Willow's neck, he thought abstractly "Well, there goes another perfectly good pair of trousers."
   "'S okay."  Willow consoled him, wondering sadly about his pitiful self-control.  She was, however, pleasantly surprised, as he lifted his head from her shoulder and gazed hungrily at her.  He dragged Willow into his arms.  In a frenzy, they ripped each other's clothes away.  Blouse, vest, trousers and underwear, flew in all directions.  Hands with a will of their own, roamed across the expanses of now naked flesh, and this time it was not just Willow that wondered where they had come from.
   Unexpectedly, Willow stepped away.  With long fingers she pushed against his chest, forcing him into the chair which had appeared conveniently for the sex scene (Happens on Channel 5 all the time).  Giles looked up, desperate for the woman in front of him, his dick straining at its leash.  Suddenly aware of the home-order gimmick, he removed the offending item.
   Willow stood before him, hands resting on her hips.  She moved in quickly and willingly impaled herself on the upright cock with an appreciative murmur.  After a moments pause, she began to bob up and down energetically, bearing for one frightening moment, an amazing resemblance to one of Steps better dance moves.  Giles moaned at the intoxicating friction, his hands grasping her back in response as he clawed at his back hair.  A bright red false nail pinged across the room as their movements became more frantic.  Giles made a mental note to get some better glue next time.
   Willow thrust her hips more and more, the pleasure really starting to get to her.  Giles was beside himself, but realised that of all the times for an out of body experience, this was most definitely not it.  He slipped off the chair as he too thrust away wildly.  Crashing to the floor, Giles and Willow orgasmed  crazily, cries echoing off the walls, screams of delight, panting, moaning, and generally making a bloody unnecessary fuss.
   Giles collapsed, his head - now well used to concussion-rendering blows after 4 series - banging back on the hard floor.  The blood pounding through his body and numbness in his limbs meant that he didn't even notice the pain growing in his left shoulder.
   "I'm too old for this shit."  He mumbled.
   Willow stood up and reached for her clothes.  She put them back on, speaking as she moved.
   "Okay.  Gotta go now."  She informed the panting librarian.
   "Wha...?"  He murmured hazily.
   "Oh, come on!  Didn't you realise that was all just for the benefit of the Willow/Giles section of the  GASP?"  She called out, searching for her missing left shoe.