Chapter 11

Stars above them and sand below, there wasn't another soul on the beach when they stepped from the limo. Franz said his first sentence of the evening before striding past her, his expensive Italian shoes sinking in the sand, his suit jacket flapping in the breeze, without a look back.

Willow stared after him as his words sunk in before her feet strode along side her silent sire even as her mind froze from shock. They walked towards a rocky outcropping that looked as if it had jutted to the sky once until the sea had rounded it smooth. She looked to her shoes, grateful she wore flats, before following Franz to a thin path around the boulders.

Dark waves crashed against the earth like grasping fingers as they inched their way along a slender, slippery trail over rocks and seaweed. If she had been human, she would have shivered. The black silk of her dress only wafted in the breeze and soaked in the surf. Willow hadn't asked questions during the three hour car ride or when Franz had dropped the bomb about their evening's plan, but a question nearly burst from her when they made their way back onto drier land.

The outcropping turned out to be horseshoe-shaped and hiding a small beach spotted with pebbles. Wind whistled through a narrow cave where torches flickered on either side of the entrance. Only one vampire, back straight and game face ahead, witnessed their descent into the gaping maw of the cave.

Willow reached for Franz. Instinctual, she held his hand, her thumb rubbed his skin in an absent minded gesture, before she had time to wonder if he'd rebuff her. The sins of last night hadn't faded and weren't forgotten.

Franz looked to her, smile breaking through his barriers, and squeezed her hand. All the anger and tension between them felt erased in that moment. He had given her a new life and now he would give her a new family.

The wind picked up, swirling her skirts around as she took one look behind her before following Franz. She had been expecting this even before death yet it was still a surprise so soon after her rendezvous with Angel. She had awoken next to a laid out a note and black dress, flowing yet tapered, that Bettie Davis could have strutted on a forties-era red carpet in. The had note told her to dress and await a limo. She hadn't learned what Franz had in store for her until after she stepped onto the lonely stretch of beach.

The sand muffled their steps yet the roar of the ocean echoed around them. Nervous, she tried to keep it off her face even in the gloom of the cave. An aura radiated from within. It lingered, gritty and familiar, on her skin.

Franz spoke for the second time that evening. His cultured voice bounced off the cave walls. The professional veneer slipped, gray eyes intense, and emotion sneaked into his tone. "In the past, this cave would have been lined with members of the Order, silent as their graves, overwhelming in their power. You would walk alone as I had so long ago." He tightened his grip on her hand as he stopped. His other hand ghosted over her face in hesitation. "This lovely mortal facade would be hidden behind the demonic." Wistful eyes stared into hers before he let go of her hand.

She shifted face not daring to speak.

Lifting his fingers to her forehead, he ran his thumb along the ridges of her brow as if he couldn't help himself. "The Order calls it a curse yet I find that a mask is a most useful thing. Arm yourself with it."

Tilting her head, Willow returned to her human visage. She would have expected more anger, not the hint of sadness or the hope, in his expression. The waves crashing along the shore sounded like a heartbeat. It made her think of the girls she had been: the precocious child, the dutiful daughter, the best friend, the hacker, the Scooby, the vampire's pet, and then the girl that the others evolved into. The one who didn't survive. Willow wasn't that girl anymore. Franz had made her someone else.

Franz pulled away to continue to walk as he began to unbutton his shirt without removing his blazer. He ordered, voice commanding in a tone far removed from the one he used with her, and clapped. "Torches."

The torches came to life. Light flooded the cave to reveal defined stalactites and flapping bats. Empty sockets gazed at her from skull-filled niches. Moss grew over painted symbols mingled with aged blood spatters on the walls. The tunnel had widened into a chamber marked by a single rounded altar of smoothed granite that rose mere inches above the sand. Symbols the color of blood and pomegranates crisscross the stone. An old myth about the god of the underworld and a goddess of spring came to her mind.

Flapping like a flying pouch of disease, a bat swerved within a few feet of her head. The residue of an old phobia gripped her as she fought the urge to jump. Willow followed Franz with a single swat at the bat. She hoped he hadn't noticed.

He turned his head to smirk at her and held out his arm. Franz waited for her to entwine her arm with his before leading her farther into the earth. "No warning would be given before the torches blinded you. In front of you would be the masters and behind you the minions, they would close in and the force of the crowd would push you to the stone's edge." They stepped onto the low altar. "The Old Master would have stood in judgment."

"Where would you have been?" She flicked her gaze up.

He cupped her cheek. "Right here."

"Can I still be inducted into the Order without a vamp line up and all the judging?"

Franz nodded. "Meaningless pomp." He pulled her dress sleeves off her shoulders before pulling out a small vial and unstopping it. Hints of blood and consecrated oils scented the air. He began a low chant in Latin and anointed three lines, faintly red, onto her chest and collarbone then a circle over her heart. Flickering torches glimmered off the slick oil. Franz scratched himself on the neck to smudge his blood on her forehead. "All that matters is the paperwork and the blood in the new Order."

Willow rested her hands on his shoulders, thumbs hooked under his open shirt and suit jacket, before pushing them off. "What would happen next?"

"Certainly not this." He pulled her close and kissed her.

The days after Willow's death passed in grief and silence as Sheila and Ira grew wrapped up in their own separate pain. There were none of the measured and logical discussions on the proper ways of grieving that characterized the early days when Willow had been kidnapped. They would look into each others eyes and see so much pain reflected in their depths. Words couldn't have expressed the weight that seemed to drag Sheila to the ground. She had tried to explain about vampires to Ira but he only looked at her with hollow eyes before shaking his head. After Sheila went to Mr. Angel's office, she tried to explain what she had learned with Ira but he would walk from the room without a reply. She wanted to yell, 'we'll have to stake her,' but the words were too horrible to leave her mouth.

Ira seemed lost in a world of black and white movies and would only budge from the couch when she brought up the 'v' word. That left Sheila to make the phone calls and deal with the police. She was almost grateful for it. Sheila spent so much time rushing around just so she couldn't linger on the memory of her last sight of Willow, pale and limp. She felt like she was bursting from the knowledge she kept bottled up. Sheila couldn't even tell her mother the truth about her granddaughter. All she could do was sob as her mother tried to comfort her on the phone from across the country.

She thought she would scream until finally she announced that she was going to go to the support group that evening. The time and dates had been shifting around since the last attack but she knew that the dark had already taken all it could from her.

Ira roused himself off the couch to agree. It was a surprise to hear him speak. He would finalize the sale of the house while she was with Yvette. The ride to Sunnydale was silent and he dropped her off outside the clinic with a large hug that took her off guard. They hadn't touched since Willow had died.

"I love you," Ira said before kissing her.

Sheila watched the car pull away and wondered if she had her husband back again.

Lilah Morgan stepped into Holland Mather's office, shoulders tensing up even as she maintained a neutral expression. Her 'special project' had been tested and signs pointed to success but at Wolfram & Hart, there wasn't any guarantees. "You wanted to see me sir?"

"Well, yes, Lilah, I have the latest reports on your special project and I'm impressed." He stood in front of the expansive view as he turned his gaze to her. "You got to the heart of the matter. Angel spent the better part of last night following her around before an impassioned embrace ensued." He held up a manila folder and pulled out a picture. It was the vampire with an mouth open and eyes full of dark emotions. "Taken right before Willow Rosenberg was found and returned, unharmed. The conflict is clear." Holland shrugged. "Pieterzoon wasn't pleased but he seemed to accept your apology after you replaced the human guards with vampires. All in all, I'd say it was a success." He dismissed her with a nod before saying, "Oh, and Lilah, stall the transport Lindsey is arranging for Pieterzoon. "

"What about the reformed Order? Pieterzoon is shaping up to be a major player."

Holland smiled. "The Order died decades before its Master did. His spawn are merely battling over the remains. Sebastian or Matilda have less than a dozen centuries between them and countless upstarts scheming in their courts. They wouldn't dare fight over a delayed flight." The smile evaporated as he nodded a dismissal. "We still have use of the girl."

Ira walked upstairs after he had signed the papers and given the keys away. He had lied to the realtor that he would lock up before he left. Ira Rosenberg opened up Willow's room. Ghosts seemed to cling to the walls as he could see his little girl at her desk doing homework or reading on her bed. Ghosts were all they were. Willow was dead and she would never return, no matter what tales that those paranormal investigators spun for Sheila. Ira believed in monsters now, but it was useless. Willow was gone and nothing would change that.

He reached under his long shirt for the holster strapped to his hip that he had hidden in the dashboard compartment until he had dropped off Sheila and kissed her goodbye for the last time.

Like an avalanche, the depression had rolled over him in a white wave of despair since that night. He had tried so hard to save his daughter, prepare her for the world, and it had all come to nothing despite all his promises. She had learned to shoot and to fight, but in the end, it didn't matter. All those guns had been useless when he had been tested. Those men had caught him barehanded and Willow had been the one to pay the price.

His father told him after his brother's funeral that the cruelest cut in the world was losing a child before their time. Dan had been in his forties when he had died in a car accident, but Willow had barely begun in the world. His father hadn't told the truth. It was beyond cruel to see Willow die before him. At least, his father had two other sons. Willow was his only child.

Ira had tried to sleep the first night but all he dreamed about was Willow's small still form and the blood dripping from her neck. He hadn't slept since. Coffee and bourbon kept him awake as he had watched all their favorite movies. It still hadn't kept the nightmares at bay. He would turn his head towards the door and it was like he could relive the horrible night all over again. Even looking at Sheila would remind of his failures. Ira raised the gun as he stepped onto the balcony.

Ira had no more hope. When Willow had been taken the first time, he hadn't been able to comprehend the pain of days going by without her and it was all new so he could imagine that it could get better. Not now. He knew what was out there and he saw with his own eyes that she would never come home. Until he died, he would always hear a knock on the door or hear the telephone ring and wish she was on the other end but she would never be.

He couldn't tolerate this planet anymore. Once he had wanted to unlock its secrets, he had been like Willow, so full of questions and life. That had been snuffed out with Willow.

He closed his eyes as he put the cold barrel to his temple. Forcing himself to think of the good times, he remembered the first time that Willow had seen snow. She had been four and still tiny for her age as she spun and played in the fresh snowfall. Sheila had been so pretty that day with her cheeks red from the cold. He loved them both so much. Ira felt so much shame that he would be leaving Sheila alone but she had always been the strong one.

They had been so beautiful as the pure snowflakes fell about their shoulders.

Ira took a deep breath and pulled the trigger.

When he found Sheila Rosenberg in his front waiting room, Angel didn't know what to say. He nodded before gesturing her into his private office. Certain that she would demand an update on the case, trite vague phrases came to mind while he tried to not think of the truth of how he let their chance to put Willow to rest slip from his fingers. What could he say? That he had gotten a good feel for the case and even some of her lipstick on his collar? Angel sat down and waited for her to speak.

"My husband shot himself yesterday." Her voice was quiet but the pain in her tone was loud. Facing him with wet cheeks and stubborn chin that quivered from grief, Sheila didn't take a seat. Nervous tension made her pace. "I am alone now and I will be leaving California soon." She dropped her eyes and seemed to steel herself in an expression reminiscent of Willow. "I need to tie up my loose ends here. Willow has become a vampire and there isn't a cure. Yvette has told me that much. I know that she wouldn't have wanted to be that way. " She pulled out a photo of Willow and placed it on his desk. "I'm willing to pay you up to a thousand dollars to take me along when when you track her down. I should be the one to do it."

"It?" Angel knew he wasn't going to like the sound of whatever would come out of her mouth. This was a woman on the edge from loss and there was no telling what she might be capable of or might get herself involved with. There was more mother-daughter resemblance between her and Willow than ever before even through the despair on Sheila's face.

Sheila turned her eyes up to him. Sheer will seemed to power her as she straightened her back and stilled her pacing feet. "I brought her into this world. I should take her out."