Brewed

As demons from Sunnydale's past begin coming back to haunt them, can Willow and Angel keep their secret in the lab?

"Willow?" It was that voice… the voice that made the redhead want to melt into a puddle of Willow-shaped goo…

"Hey Angela," she turned with a smile, her heart fluttering as she took in the artist's appearance. Angel was dressed simply, in tight black work pants and a white tank top with a vest and a string of hand-painted wooden beads… it was so hip and cool! Willow felt like she was back in high school, appraising her crush's outfit like that… except she was pretty sure she was beyond simple crush-age when it came to Angela.

"Willow, what do you think happened to that girl in there?"

There were now two bodies in the lab, one who had CLEARLY been stabbed by a barbeque fork, the other, Willow and Angel hadn't quite come up with a non-supernatural explanation for. Gnarl demons were nasty – Willow had first-hand experience. But they also killed in a pretty signature way. The body that Cam was currently doing the autopsy on was completely void of its skin. Willow had no idea how to explain that to Angela.

"I honestly don't know… Cam says she was flayed alive."

Angela paled. "She was alive when the monster tore off her skin?" She sounded on the verge of throwing up.

"M-m-m-monster?" Willow's heart jumped into her throat, her palms beginning to sweat. Did Angela know? Did the vibrant-oh-so-human artist know about the hellmouth that rumbled beneath them?

"Yeah, whatever sicko-murderer skinned that poor girl alive!"

"Right. That's what I thought you meant," Willow covered awkwardly. "Do you have an ID yet?"

"I have a face for her – it's not too hard with all that flesh still there." Angela led Willow through to her office. The redhead couldn't help but notice how incredible Angela's ass looked in those pants… the way the vest synched in at the waist to perfectly show off her sculpted figure and… WILLOW. Snap out of it… "This is her," Angela said softly. "She's really young, Willow. No more than twenty."

Angela held out a sketch of young-faced woman. She had ebony skin, curly black hair and a broad nose… An almost baby-like face that Willow could have picked out of thousands. She felt her stomach knot, felt the tears sting the back of her eyes… so much inside of her was yelling at her to run, leave this job, this town, before it was too late. Before more girls got hurt. "I hate it this way, when they're so young…" Angela continued, not noticing Willow's tears, "so much potential."

"She was more than a potential," Willow whispered, running her finger down the charcoal-cheekbones. "Oh Goddess, what's happening…"

"Willow?" Angela asked gently, noting her newfound friend's tears. "Oh God, Will, you knew her?"

"I was supposed to look after her." Willow breathed. "Oh Goddess, Rona…"

"Rona?" Brennan drew up behind her best friend and new intern.

Willow spun, hastily wiping her tears and taking a shaky breath. "The skinless victim, her name is Rona. Rona Everton. She's just turned twenty. Grew up in Michigan, broke her arm when she was nine falling off her scooter… She sustained a lot of injuries just before Summer in 2003. Broken arm, there'll be a crack in her right occipital lobe. Also sustained in 2003." Willow stared at the ground, rattling off the fact as if that might make a difference… if she could list these things about the girl she was supposed to protect, then maybe it wouldn't hurt as much. Facts didn't hurt. That's why she liked them. That's why Dr. Brennan made more sense to Willow than anyone on the planet. She knew how to not get hurt. Cause… getting hurt? For Willow, there badness lay. Last time she lost someone she really loved, she'd tried to end the world… And now Rona was dead. And it was her fault. Willow should have taken care of her. She should have prepared her better. Willow was Rona's Watcher. She was supposed to help her, not get her killed.

"Miss Rosenberg, were you close to the victim?" Dr. Brennan asked.

"Yes," she nodded curtly. "She was my responsibility."

"You should go home, Willow," Angela murmured, running an open palm over Willow's back. Willow tingled at Angela's touch, smiling slightly at the sensation.

"I-I can't," she replied. "I … I need to talk to Ang- err, Booth." And without another word, Willow turned and ran out of the room.

"Oh Goddess," Angela whispered, unconsciously using Willow's phrase, "she's only been here three days and already someone she knows has turned up in our lab."

"She's an extremely competent scientist," Brennan said quietly, turning to Angela. "But I feel as if she isn't completely invested in her work."

"Sweetie, her friend just died."

"Not that, I understand how grief patterns affect a human's work and their functioning ability, and I will make allowances for that in her behaviour, but I feel like she knows more than she's saying."

"I thought you didn't believe in intuition," Angela said dryly.

"So did I."

"They suspect something."

"Holy crap!" Willow spun around to face Angel, her heart pounding. As usual, he'd appeared out of nowhere and frightened the bejeezus out of her. "I thought you'd stop doing that, you know, pretend to be more human or something…"

He shrugged. "Not with you."

"Hey, looking for a little normalcy here, Angel!"

"That's what I was doing too," he admitted, "but in our world, normal is a VERY relative term. Us, we won't ever be normal Willow, and with these last two attacks, you should be very glad to have your powers."

"The skinless girl, she's a slayer," Willow murmured. "She was one of my slayers. Rona."

"Oh Willow," he murmured, "I'm sorry. And I hate to make it worse right now because I know you must be feeling terrible, but there's something I need to tell you about our first victim."

"Anita Norman – the girl was twenty-six," Willow reminded herself. "Vampire bite."

"She wasn't just a girl."

"Oh?"

"Anita was a slayer," Angel said. "She was making her way here, to the hellmouth, so that she could train with the others, get some help with her calling."

"Like the dozens of other girls that come to us," Willow replied. "Anita was a slayer too?"

"Yes," Angel clarified, "she lived in Russia, had been fighting over there – hence the ridiculous number of injuries."

"That's why she had so many healed breaks!" Willow squeaked. "She was a slayer… super healing."

"Exactly," Angel replied.

"How do you know all this?"

"I had a hunch… called Giles to ask about any other missing slayers. He said that Anita was supposed to arrive at the house about two weeks ago. Fits time of death."

"So someone's killing slayers?"

"Honestly," Angel said, "I'm hoping it was just a coincidence."

"When the hellmouth is active, nothing is ever just a coincidence," Willow reminded him.

I always found the bodies, Willow mused to herself. Back in Sunnydale when we patrolled, I always found the bodies. Now what do I do for a living? I find bodies. I just wish they weren't the bodies of people I cared about. She was walking home from the lab, just after dusk. Thankfully, it wasn't quite dark enough for vamps to be out in force yet – the sun still peaked over the horizon. The whole city of Washington DC was bathed in a diffuse, orange glow and the air was still warm and moist. It was nearly May, and the weather was just beginning to heat up… but Willow didn't associate May with warming weather… she hadn't since she was sixteen. Now, she associated it with the annual blow of the hellmouth. Whichever one she happened to be on. When they lived in Sunnydale, things usually started getting really quiet just after Buffy's inevitable birthday disaster… the peace would last about three months, then things would start to pick up again. After that it would get bad – fast. Jenny died in May. Faith went into cahoots with the mayor in May. Adam rose in May. Glory started hunting them in May. Tara died in May. The Potentials were arriving in force in May. Now, years later, there was still not a single May when things hadn't gotten really bad, really fast. As much as she desperately hoped the slayer deaths were just coincidences, she couldn't bring herself to really think that. It was May, after all. She was less than two streets away from the house now, and getting a little nervous. The sun was almost gone. She decided to take a short cut through the park, cutting valuable minutes from her trip. But as Willow rounded the corner of the playground, she stopped dead in her tracks. There was blood in the grass. A LOT of blood. She hiked her bag higher onto her back, following the spatters along the ground. They led a trail into a tight little grove of trees, all gnarled and ancient looking. In the middle of the grove lay not one, but two bodies. The first was a dark-haired girl, lying face down as blood spread beneath her. The second was a slightly hunched creature, with greasy, tangled hair and a mud-brown robe. He too was lying facedown in a puddle of his own blood. The demon looked strangely familiar, but Willow didn't have time to ponder it. Very carefully, Willow rolled the girl over to reveal an all-too-familiar face. She was Asian, delicate features and a red slash of a mouth, her dark hair falling over her lifeless eyes. Chao-Ahn. One of Giles' slayers… Willow felt the familiar knot once again coiling in her stomach. One Slayer death in a week is unfortunate. Two is bad. Three? That's just downright terrifying. There were 282 active slayers in the world at any one time… they were the 282 strongest girls in the world. Three of them couldn't have died in one week by pure chance. There was something bigger behind this. And that's when it hit Willow – the demon that Chao-Ahn had managed to fatally wound… Willow knew why he looked so familiar. The ugly, scabby, hunched little demon was one of Glory's minions.

"Coincidence my ass…" Willow muttered, pulling out her cell phone. "It's Slayer Time."

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