She raised her defenses immediately. Not having Tara around was hard enough. But for an intruder to bypass all her bedroom's safeguards and still be in human form? That was too much for the witch to bear.

"Who are you?"

The man in the trenchcoat looked like an amalgam between Spike and Giles. He took a drag of a silk-cut cigarette, and smiled.

"I'm your intervention, girlie. See, the dimension walls aren't as thick as most people think. The first Season 6 eps just reached the BBC, and I felt compelled to try. Its magic. You're on the wrong path."

Willow let her eyes flash dark, and gestured at the arrogant Englishman.

"Go From Here."

Holding up an odd weed of some kind, the man almost yawned as the energy-ball dispersed.

"Oooh. That was a good one. But I've walked with gods, devils, angels, Fates, and The Endless, Willow. The things I've seen. The places I've been."

His smile vanished.

"The people I've done. Now, look, I'm not here to give you the standard lecture. Because you know all that magic can do, the risks. No, I'm here to talk all about a little pit of a place called Hell. Not the touristy, solitary confinement Hell. Not the Hell you can be called back from by anyone with a Ouija, although I've seen that done. No, this is Hell by Hieronymus Bosch on acid. This is the Hell that you don't ever get out of, and if you and all your friends and family beg, all it gets you is a deeper pit for daring to remind Creation of your worthless existence!"

Willow stood back, just a bit.

"I thought you weren't here to tell me the risks."

The smile again.

"That's cause its not a risk. Its a certainty. Oh, JW may wiggle you out. He's good for that. But then again, he may be sizing you up for The Big Sweep."

Willow now felt really frightened.
 

"What's The Big Sweep?"

The man got closer, and spoke in her ear, softly.

"Its kinda like Thanksgiving, only it comes in February and May, not just November. Guess who's the gobble-gobble?"

Willow grasped a small pin, and chanted.

"Tricephalos Eldros Cosmos....."

He grasped it away, crushed the pin beneath his boot, and pushed her down.

"Calling on Old ThreeSkull?!! Are you flat out of your mind? Screw you, kid. I'm gone. One more thing, though?"

Willow was now shifting between fear and contempt. She still hadn't gotten up.

"What?!"

He threw her a cigarette.

"When you get to Hell....."

He smiled.

"....tell The First Of The Fallen that John Constantine says 'Hi'."

Willow awoke, some borrowed 'Swamp Thing' comics from Xander scattered across her room. The place was a mess, and she was wiped. She raised a finger.

"Clean."