|
|
Part 2
“Willow?” The softly spoken word revived her from a dreamless sleep. The redhead’s eyes fluttered, then opened to see who it was that spoke her name. She paled as she registered his appearance. < Oh, wow. > His every day uniform of black jeans and a dark shirt were now destroyed, covered in a mix of blood and ashes. A huge tear was ripped into his shirt, revealing the still bleeding wound beneath it. Another cut, above his right eye, continued to bleed as well. They were healing slowly. The combination of Angel’s vampire ‘game face’ and the other injuries he suffered made recognizing him difficult, but as he watched her, his human face returned. He hadn’t changed much during his time in LA. Not that she expected him to. The injured man shook unsteadily as he sat down next to her. “What are you doing here? Is it Buffy?”
Willow shook her head. “Buffy’s okay,” she assured him. The Slayerettes never usually approached their vampire friend unless it had to do with life or death situations, or Buffy. Although Angel ended his relationship with Buffy before leaving town, Willow knew Angel would always love the Slayer, and vice versa. That theory was evident through Angel’s tone of voice. “What happened to you?” she asked softly. His head fell back against the cushion.
“Where do I begin?” he said, not really to Willow, but more to himself. He closed his eyes.
“Just tell me,” she urged. He inhaled deeply, his eyes and mouth still closed. “Angel…” She didn’t know what to say. He turned to her, his eyes begging her not to ask questions. “No. I want to-I have to know what happened.” Still he said nothing. It was getting frustrating, but she waited for him to speak.
“Drusilla’s dead,” he said in his typical ‘Cryptic Guy’ way, as if that explained everything. Then he stood up and ran his hand over his dark, disheveled hair. “Willow, it’s late. I’ll walk you home.”
< Drusilla? I thought she was in Brazil or something. When did she get back? > She stared at him, determined to get answers. “Resolve face,” she said as she pointed to her expression of persistence. It meant that she was not going to be taking no for an answer. Unfortunately, Angel was not around her enough to appreciate the value of that expression. Because of this, he merely stared back at her. Willow punched the arm of the couch in frustration. “Angel! When are you going to get it through your head that we’re your friends? You don’t have to play ‘Cryptic Guy’ every time something bad happens!”
At the mention of the word ‘friends’, he turned away and walked to the fireplace. Her anger faded as she watched his action. He took a deep breath. His eyes danced as he watched the flames burning within. Then he began, “I was attacked when I was walking through the cemetery, a bunch of Spike’s boys. They took me to the old warehouse. She was there. She was crazy…she was Dru. She kept telling me she wanted her Angelus back, and I couldn’t be that person again. I fought them all until it was only us.”
Black eyes closed painfully as Angel recalled the night’s events. As he spoke, he could feel her eyes burning into him. He had never spoken so much to a person he barely knew. But somehow this young girl had him talking. Her very being almost demanded it. He turned his gaze to settle on the eyes of his confidante. They were open wide, her mouth set in a thin line of apprehension. Still, she said nothing, only waited for him to continue. His vision clouded with blood-tears, and he was forced to turn away from her. His next statement was barely audible, “I killed her. I made her who she was, and then I killed her for it.”
“Angel, you can’t blame yourself for what Angelus did to her,” she said softly. He sat on the stoop in front of the fireplace and hid his face in his hands.
“Angelus and I are the same-” he was cut off by her harsh reply.
“No,” she said, standing up. Willow stalked over to him. “What if I won’t let you take the blame, huh? What if I say you aren’t responsible?” she asked, her voice raising in volume and strength as she continued, “I can’t let you feel guilty because the world is short one less creature like Drusilla. Do you know all the horrible things she did? You should give yourself a pat on the back!” Willow stopped and searched his face. She frowned when she saw she made no effect on him. Then she dropped to her knees so she was eye-level with him. His eyes were empty as he stared past her shoulder. “So I’m not the worlds’ best motivational speaker,” she mumbled, her voice softening, “but Angel, you did what you had to do.”
Angel looked over at her harshly. He wanted to say something to make her leave, but stopped when he saw her. Willow never said so much to him before. The redhead was different, yet the same person; he noticed that now. He could see the pain behind her eyes, pain that he caused; yet he couldn’t speak. He didn’t know what to say. “I don’t know how to feel,” he whispered.
Slowly, cautiously, Willow took his hands in hers. Her eyes never left his face. “I’m your friend, Angel. What are you afraid of?”
Angel stared at the hands he held in his with a bit of surprise. When the gypsy curse giving Angel his soul was revoked, he devoted his time to destroying Buffy and her friends. He used their friendship against them, and Buffy’s inability to kill him against her. Despite this, Willow would not give up on him, trying to find a way to restore the curse. In the end, the soulless Angelus invoked a demon to suck the world into Hell. Buffy used his blood to stop it and sent him and the demon to Hell instead.
When he returned, Willow made it a point to befriend him. Still, in all the time he had known her, she had never shown any kind of physical affection towards him. But now she tried to prove how much she did care with this little gesture that meant so much to him. Her hands were so fragile and small in his. He glanced up into her unmoving gaze and saw the concern that still lurked beneath the surface.
“Willow, I’m so--” His confession was cut short as the mansions’ double doors burst open. They both let go of each other’s hands and stood facing their enemy.
“Don’t let me interrupt.” Sarcasm and a British accent dripped from the intruder’s lips. He slipped out of his leather duster, revealing a red button-up shirt and black pants, and casually walked over to them. He ran his hand through peroxided-blond hair and smiled, revealing sharp fangs. “No, I take that back. Let me.”
At his final words, a cadre of vampires entered the room and began to attack Angel and the seemingly innocent Willow. Angel’s hands were full as he fought them off, and even if Willow wasn’t too frightened to fight, she knew they were no competition for the group.
Spikes turned his cold blue eyes to her and winked. “Hello, cutie,” he said
< That line is way overdone. > Willow ignored her desire to rip the smirk from his face as she remembered her mission. “Angel! Get out of here! Find Buffy!” She saw his chin jut out in understanding before she received a sharp blow on the back of her head. The pain hit immediately and she succumbed to the peaceful unconsciousness.
Buffy sat down on a headstone in the Sunnydale Memorial Cemetery and started whistling. She listened to the radio before she left her house and the last song she heard was stuck in her head. Still whistling, she glanced down at her nails and frowned. < It’s hard to keep nice nails when you spend every night punching the undead. > It was a slow night. She only found five vampires to destroy. Compared to the average number of vamps slayed per night, that wasn’t much. Still, beating those five was enough comfort food to end her angry tirade.
The Slayer glanced around herself and sighed. She couldn’t stop thinking about how incredibly pathetic her life was. It was nearly impossible for her to be happy, and whenever she got close, one of those damned prophecies had to ruin it for her. It pissed her off, and no matter how many times she tried to forget this one, she couldn’t. Even that damned song didn’t help. Buffy knew what it was like to be ‘The Chosen One’. She knew how stressful it was to try and sleep at night when the weight of the world rested firmly on her shoulders, or to go to school when she was up the previous night saving the world from total destruction. She hated it, but it was something she’d grown accustomed to. But not fighting--not doing anything--it was against everything she believed in.
Buffy suddenly felt a hand on her shoulder, startling her enough to knock her off balance. She landed hard on her back and groaned.
“What, do I need to tie a bell to your collar?” Buffy rubbed the back of her head and glanced up at her visitor with a smile. The Slayer was about to scold him, but froze when she saw the look on his face. His eyes were wide with panic, his clothes rumpled as if he ran to find her. She gave him a questioning look.
“He got her, Buffy,” Angel said in his charmingly cryptic manner. Then he clarified, “Spike got Willow.”
Buffy closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the dirt. It was going to be a long night.
The phone shrilled loudly throughout the Harris household. Xander pulled the pillow off his head and growled at the ceiling. He had tried everything to stop it from waking him, including telling it to go away. Nothing worked, except maybe answering, which he really didn’t want to do. His parents had left for the weekend on a second honeymoon, leaving him to play answering machine. It didn’t occur to Xander that someone might have a good reason for calling him so late. < Maybe Giles wants me to come to school early and read more books. >
He shuddered at the thought of doing more research. To avoid such a horrible experience, Xander did the only thing that seemed logical to him at the moment. He reached over, turned the ringer off, and went back to sleep.
Cordelia’s hotel room was blanketed in darkness, but she could still see the black outline of her cell phone clearly. < Alexander Harris, if you don’t call me within the next sixty seconds, you’ll be sorry. > It was an empty threat, but Cordy hoped it would work. She tried willing the phone to ring. It sat on the nightstand and refused to comply, mocking her with its silence. He obviously didn’t hear her. For about the millionth time that night, Cordelia moaned in frustration.
“Why can’t we just be happy, already?” she asked the ceiling in despair.
They got in another fight. It seemed like that’s all they were doing. This time, Cordelia accused Xander of flirting with Willow in the library. He, of course, denied it and accused her of being jealous. < Of course I’m jealous, how the hell does he think I’m gonna feel? He and Willow making with the smoochies are the reason we broke up the first time! > Tears of frustration threatened to spill, and she buried her face in the pillow. “Call, Xander, please. Tell me it’s going to be all right. Tell me you understand,” she begged through the pillow.
Cordy hated moments like these. She especially hated the crying, which she happened to do really well. A huge chunk of her life was spent trying to prevent both the moments and the crying. < Back then, life was easy. Life was spending my time with a bunch of superficial jerks, but at least it was easy. > Suddenly the phone shrilled obnoxiously, jerking the brunette from her thoughts. She answered in record time.
“Xander?” she asked hopefully.
“Buffy,” corrected the voice on the other end. Cordy felt a wave of disappointment. < It’s her fault we’re having problems. > It was a very familiar, very selfish thought, and she immediately pushed it from her mind. She told herself it was unfair to think that Buffy had anything to do with their fight. Cordy couldn’t help it. Her resentment stemmed from a history of bad Slayer-related experiences, starting with Xander’s fixation on Buffy and ending with psycho-Faith’s horizontal playtime with the aforementioned male.
Buffy’s voice pulled her back to reality. “Cordelia, I need your help.”
Cordy was about to protest when she caught the urgency in Buffy’s voice. < This better be important. I refuse to read another one of those stupid books. Giles should have the stupid things memorized by now, anyway. > To be sure it was, she asked, “What’s going on?”
“Willow’s been kidnapped by Spike. We’re meeting at the library. Can you come in?”
“Kidnapped? What, the end of the world wasn’t enough?” she muttered angrily. < Xander is probably freaking out right now. I’m so glad I didn’t have to tell him. Wait a minute… Why am I even thinking of him? The jerk. >
Once again, Buffy interrupted her thoughts. “By the way, I couldn’t get a hold of Xander. Can you stop by his house on the way here?”
She cringed. “There’s no way I’m gonna go anywhere NEAR that--”
“Cordelia!” Buffy interrupted harshly. “It’s an emergency. Just go get him.”
The brunette glared into the darkness. She was fully prepared to argue with the Slayer, the words of defiance on the tip of her tongue, but instead they came out as a begrudged “Okay, fine.”
“Great, bye!” The phone clicked in her ear as Buffy hung up.
Ten minutes later found Cordelia on Xander’s doorstep. She knew Xander’s parents were gone for the weekend, but she felt uncomfortable knocking on his door so late. Especially after the night they had. < Can’t think about earlier. Willow needs my help. Xander, please don’t be mad anymore. > With that, she swallowed what was left of her pride and knocked on the door.
Willow’s heightened senses awoke long before she herself did. Her eyes remained closed as she slowly regained consciousness. The first thing she noticed was the faint smell of smoke. There was a particular odor within the smoke that she could not place. She assumed that meant her mother was burning breakfast and shrugged it off. Her mother never was a good cook. The second thing she noticed was the cold, hard surface on which she lay. “Fell off the bed again,” she mumbled to herself. She didn’t stop to think that her bedroom floor was carpeted. As a result, it was the final thing she noticed that caused her to sit up straight and her eyes to snap open. She heard a man’s chuckle.
The redhead finally opened her eyes and looked around, only to discover that her heightened senses were anything but. The hard surface on which she lay was that of a cell the size of a closet. Cordelia’s closet, but a closet, none the less. Bars were wrapped around the tiny space, coated with dust and grime. The scent of smoke was not that of her mother’s cooking, but of something completely different. It was coming from the cigarette dangling dangerously from between the lips of her enemy. He chuckled again when he saw the realization dawning on her face.
“Not exactly home sweet home, is it pet?” Spike stood within the cage, as if daring the young girl to attack him. She did nothing, trying to analyze the situation instead.
Finally, she spoke. Her throat was dry, her voice cracking, “What am I doing here?”
“I got bored,” he began casually, “so I went to kill Angel. But then I saw you, and decided torture would be much more rewarding.”
Willow stared up at him from her position on the floor with blatant hatred. Spike grin faded as he took in her gaze. She knew she sent out those ‘I’m a Slayer so come and get it’ vibes. They came with the job. Spike, on the other hand, was probably not expecting them. He most likely assumed she would be afraid of him. Nervously, she watched him light another cigarette and walk around her as he spoke. “It seems you’ve already figured me out. I’d like to say that I have some big plan that involves the end of the world, but it’s plain old-fashioned revenge. Angelus killed my love. And I can’t seem to get a hold of the Slayer, so I guess I’m going to have to settle for second best.”
“Second best? Yeah, I guess you’d know a lot about that,” she retorted, shocking herself with the comeback. Suddenly, Willow remembered what happened when Faith and the mayor kidnapped her. She had some good retorts against Faith, and they almost got her killed. Immediately she snapped her mouth shut and they stared at each other in silence. “Did that just come out of my mouth?” she mumbled. Willow knew she shouldn’t have taken such a cheap shot, especially knowing what it’s like to be in competition for a loved one’s affections. Spike’s eyes lost their humorous spark and turned cold.
Spike shook it off angrily, “Aren’t we feisty, Red? You should really learn when to shut up.” He continued to circle her and watched as she raised an eyebrow.
“Hasn’t helped me so far. Why stop now?” she mumbled. Surprised, she clamped a hand over her own mouth.
He stopped circling and crouched at her side. His eyes sparkled and the grin returned. “Feisty redheads make good vampires,” he taunted. But instead of rousing sparks from within her green eyes, Spike managed to alleviate it. They went flat as she considered his statement.
“I’d kill myself first.”
“Pity you feel that way, love. You’d ruin my fun,” he said, sounding a little disappointed. Then he brightened and said, “Don’t worry, you dying would foil my plans. We need her for now, don’t we Princess?” Willow was about to ask what she was needed for when she realized he was talking to someone else. His cold blue eyes were focused on the doorway. She followed his adoring gaze and saw only blank air.
“Umm… Spike? There’s no one there,” Willow said meekly, then she squeezed her eyes shut. She waited for the flash of anger, the merciless fists beating down on her. She got neither. Willow sneaked a peek at Spike and noted with surprise that he was smiling. Not at her, but at the empty doorway of the cell.
“I’m afraid the chit can’t see you, love.”
Buffy sighed impatiently and glared at the clock. It was nearly 4 a.m., her best friend was missing, and all she could do was sit in the damned library and wait for the cavalry to arrive. She went to Willow’s house after patrol only to find it was empty. She was hoping that her friend was going to be easy to find. She still had a feeling of uneasiness and thought talking about it would help her sleep better. Willow was always very understanding, and her new addition to the Slayer’s Club helped in that department. The blond was on her last rounds of patrol and on her way home to call around when she ran into Angel. He told her what happened, and they raced to the library, where they planned to meet the other Slayerettes before crashing Spike’s hideout. Cordelia and Xander were on their way, as well as Oz. Giles was fast asleep at his home on the outskirts of town. It would take him a little longer to arrive.
“Buffy, we’ll get her back,” Angel stated calmly, interrupting her thoughts. Buffy nodded at his statement, anger flashing within her eyes. He sat and silently watched the fury build up inside her as they waited for her friends. She knew her head was supposed to be clear. Giles constantly told the Slayer that she shouldn't let her emotions affect her judgement, and more importantly, Buffy told herself the same thing numerous times. She appreciated that Angel didn’t.
“I know we will,” she said, both confident and furious, “and if we don’t, Spike will wish I killed him.”
At that very moment, Xander burst into the library, followed closely by Cordelia and Oz. They all looked to be in terrible shape. Oz normally showed indifference towards everything, but he was visibly shaken up at the disappearance of his girlfriend. Cordelia, despite herself, looked worried for the girl she once called a loser. At the moment, she eyed the actions of her boyfriend wearily. Xander stood before them with rumpled clothes and a really bad attitude. He also looked ready to snap. “Where is he? I’m gonna kill him. Just give me a stake and show me the way to go,” said Xander, determined.
Angel responded before the rest of them had a chance, “Now is not the time to act irrationally.”
"Irrational? Dead boy wants to talk to me about irrational?" Xander's eyes flashed dangerously as he turned his fury towards the vampire before him. "Willow’s locked up somewhere with two psychotic vampires who also happen to be your ex-best friends. You want to talk rational, you need to be somewhere that's not the Hellmouth.”
“That’s one.” Angel said quietly.
Xander’s irritation was obvious as he asked, “What?”
“Drusilla’s dead. It’s just Spike,” he continued. The others appeared oblivious to this statement.
Xander appeared relieved, “If it’s just him, we can take him. Let’s go.”
“Xander, listen to me very closely. You don’t know what you’re doing. Your judgement is a little wigged right now. You go in there, and you’ll get yourself killed,” Buffy said calmly and slowly, hoping it would make him relax. No such luck.
“She’s right, Xand,” Cordelia piped in softly. He turned to her angrily.
“After everything that’s happened today, you still wanna pick a fight with me? Forget it, I don’t care if you’re a girl. Throw down!” he retorted.
“I’ve seen you fight, Harris. You think I can’t take you?” Cordy replied huffily. Before he could respond, she continued, “I’ve been kicking your ass all day long and I’m not gonna stop until you stop being such a whiny baby and start acting like you care about something other than your damned ego.”
“Something other than my ego? My best friend is kidnapped and you think I’m worried about my ego?” Xander appeared hurt by his girlfriend’s comments. To hide it, he lashed out at her, “I'm sorry, great Ice Queen, I forgot that the world revolves around you!”
Cordelia glared at him angrily, but Buffy could tell it was just a mask. She didn’t like saying those things to Xander any more than he wanted to hear them, but they had to be said. Xander needed to calm down. She decided to do Cordy a favor and end the conversation.
“That’s enough,” she cut in roughly. All eyes turned to her as she continued. "We need to start focusing on the problem and stop attacking each other. It’s getting us nowhere. Giles should be here shortly, but until he is, I’m in charge. Xander, get into the weapons closet and grab a couple of stakes. Make sure they’re sharp--I plan on using them. Cordelia, Angel, go into Giles’ office and find his file on Spike and the Watcher Diaries that have him in them. We need to be prepared. ” Xander saluted Buffy and Angel followed Cordelia into Giles’ office.
Oz looked at her expectantly. “What do you want me to do?”
“Help me figure out a plan.”