The spell that Wolfram & Hart had handed off to the demon was, in short, quite difficult. For the average being anyway. He had been around for a long time, which meant that his experience with the abnormal -- including magic -- was somewhat raised just a tad bit higher than those who were completely without a clue to what he personally considered to be an art of sorts. The spell was performed in good time. Then, feeling particularly foond of his new allies, the demon settled down and made contact with the witch. Taunting her. It was what he did best. And, despite what most people say, it really is hard, even for the most strong willed person, to ignore smart remarks and insults. And even a simple lure. Willow had seemed incapable of doing so herself. Which was exactly why she had agreed to step into the brilliant trap that he had set out for her.
The spell would make her weaker. The entire block, as it seemed, would be the territory in which the demon could do whatever it was that he wanted to with the witch. He wanted to see her fight. Then fail. Miserably.
Standing at the top of the porch steps to the house in which he had indicated, the demon leaned against the support for the porch roof, arms folded across his chest and a smirk pressed right onto his face. His eyes were black as night, shedding light on the evil that lurked within Sam's body. He simply stared at Willow before he calmly said, "You might as well cancel those plans. You're not going anywhere."