18
It was days. She thought she'd be bored to tears, and she was, until with the deposits of blood came a book of blank parchment paper and a pencil to draw with.
Spike hadn't come back, not since she'd told him to go. She wouldn't dare let herself regret that decision. She didn't deserve to see him again, let alone have him in the same room taking care of her. She took care of herself. Watched blood pour down the drain when she washed herself, knowing that barely any of it was hers. She'd taken a few cuts and lacerations, but the brunt of her wounds had been seared by holy water. No, far too much of the blood she'd found on herself hadn't been hers. And she could tell, by the smell.
She'd been in a hurry to wash it off. One inhale of the human blood that had lingered on her, well, that'd be something her demon wouldn't be able to resist and the last thing she wanted was to bite or slaver on the afflicted skin just for a taste. No. She'd scrubbed her skin so hard it'd been red, and doused herself with the shampoo and lotions she'd been allowed, until she smelled like fruit, and not blood or death.
And she'd drunk the monkey blood they'd given her, marmoset and chimps, and it'd helped to ease her hunger, but not her desire. It tasted like watered down swill after being treated to the most savory of dishes.
Slayer Blood. Burning vitality, tasted like sunshine and power. The pith of a Slayer, and she'd tasted it. She wished she could say that she never wanted to taste it again.
It would be a lie. There was little else to do in the loneliness of her room but think. She ran her memories over and over and over again, unable to help herself, and perhaps just a bit encouraging it. Hoping it would help them lose their poignancy. That eventually she'd stop being able to shudder and wince and cry when she thought of what she'd done.
And she spent too much time, far, far too much time reliving the memory with Spike. How his body felt beneath hers. How his hand had said no while his body had molded to hers. How he'd rejected her with his voice but his eyes had gazed at her, vehement and wanting. And she knew she'd remembered it wrong, that she'd made up the desire in Spike's eyes to make herself feel better.
And she hated herself for it. Hated the fragments in her head that stirred when she tried to sleep, reminding her of her crimes again and again, so even when her waking mind couldn't produce the whole recollection, her dreams would fill it in with darker and bloodier links. The world was burning, or falling into shadow, and even the demons she'd killed had become helpless children.
At least she was done. She'd been mostly sure the last time Spike had visited, and there'd been no new fragments resurfacing since then. Nothing else to remember, she had it all. And it was enough on its own.
Far too much.
Faith had come to see her, two days before. Voices heard through the door before Faith had appeared had informed Jade that Angel had been there as well, but he had stayed out in the hall, the comments between he and Faith making it sound like he had been warned to stay back. So Faith had come in with the blood this time, not even acting that disturbed when she'd placed it down and Jade had taken a jar immediately.
She couldn't help herself. It was hard enough keeping her demon face at bay when Faith was there, her Slayer blood so close, so warm. Warmer than the jars Jade had to drink from, with blood that wasn't old, but wasn't as fresh as it would be from the vein either. Would never be that fresh ever again.
Of course, Faith must have been used to Angel's drinking habits by now. She wasn't sure if Faith and Angel were in anyway intimate—not that they could really be, but she knew Spike seemed to think something was between them. And of course, his face popped into her head, the lackadaisical manner in which he'd mentioned it, but this had been ages ago now. And Jade supposed it didn't really matter, except for how far Faith and Angel might go. Losing a soul. Turning into Angelus. A feared, sadistic, brutal vampire.
She wondered who the Slayers feared more. Soulless her or soulless Angelus.
And she thought of it often, enough to be disappointed that Angel didn't come into the room. She knew he understood her the most, because unlike Spike, Angel and her could still lose their soul again. It wasn't for keeps. And that terrified her. Except terrify didn't seem strong enough of a word. She didn't know how to describe it. The shifting scale she was on, the illusion of choice. If she could ever repay the lives she'd taken, or ruined. If it'd ever be even, if there was even a point if one day she could lose her soul again and all her good would be for nothing.
And that would be one of the things she would have asked Angel, but instead there was Faith.
"Checking to make sure you were five by five. Not even a TV, huh?" Faith said casually when she sauntered in, though she'd seen the room the first time, it still wasn't very brightly lit. To Jade's eyes, it didn't matter, but Faith's large eyes weren't so good in the dark, so Jade lit a few candles for the Slayer's benefit.
"I at least got a TV while I was in jail. Well, it was in the rec room. Had to share it. Not very good at sharing, though. Once I got that remote, no-one was taking it from me." Faith bypassed Jade's chair and sat directly on her bed instead. "Man, poofy. Much better than my cell cot."
"How long were you in jail?" Jade asked, curious. She hadn't really had a heart-to-heart with Faith, and there were parts of her history that Jade was missing, and Spike hadn't really found much need to talk about Faith, so he hadn't. Most of what Jade knew was from her own experience and bits and pieces from Anya, Tara and Joyce, what'd they left in her as spirits.
Faith shrugged. Her arm was looking better, no longer in a sling, although there was a bruise and a cut on her chin that Jade didn't remember giving her. Faith wore a revealing, low cut tank top that Jade wouldn't wear, let alone pull off. She was much too slim for that, and not nearly shapely enough. But Faith looked at ease as she ever was. "Not for the full twenty five years of my sentence, I can tell you that now. Although it'd probably be a bit longer now. I could stay there until I'm old and grey. Three squares ain't something to turn down lightly."
"Did it help?" Jade asked. Faith had come to her, after all, and Jade found the Slayer was one of the ones she could stand to see, that she didn't feel guilty over, even if she had broken Faith's arm and killed her friend, she didn't feel like a monster. An equal, somehow.
Faith skewed up her full lips. "With the guilt?" Her expression was casual, unbothered, then she frowned. "Nah. Not really. Doesn't go away, you know? And thing about prison. Quiet nights and lonely beds, there's a lotta time for reflection. But I'm more for action, you know? How much is thinking about it going to do, right?"
"Would you ever go back?"
Faith picked at her jeans, then shook her head. "Not saying it wasn't good for me. I probably deserve it. But, I kinda belong out here. Doing good. Sitting there, rotting. It's a waste. And boring. I actually feel like I'm doing something out here. And I am. Sitting on my hands just so someone else can say I've mended my ways? Nah. This is redemption for me, babe. Not like, praying to a God who doesn't care."
"What if you… slip again? With no one to stop you?"
Faith leaned forward now, her hand in her chin. "You know, I get it. Anyone else asking me questions like this, I'd tell them where to stuff it. But you and me. We get it. Don't have the gold star never-killed-a-human-award like Buffy has. And as for if I slip?" Her eyes released Jade's and travelled upwards, into the ceiling and she shrugged again. "Well I won't. I gotta good thing going. Might not have spent all twenty five frigging years in that cell, but I learned my lesson. Won't throw that away again."
Jade nodded. "They're lucky to have you. The… Slayers, whatever, Angel, the world. You do good here, more than you would in a cell."
Faith laughed. "Damn right they're lucky to have me. I'm the bomb, princess. Saving their lives day in and out. Like I'm supposed to. Slayer and all that." She tossed her hair over her chin, looking at Jade more seriously. "Don't worry. You'll get your white hat back too, and they'll send you out to march. Not one for waste. Not one for trusting either, but you're a bit nicer than I am." She smirked. "That'll speed it up."
Then Faith was back on her feet. "This was just a headsup. Angel, Gwen, Illyria and I, well we're heading out. On the hunt for some magical help, now that Willow's still out."
"She hasn't come back yet?" Jade asked, concerned for the red-headed Witch. It'd been a while longer, and while Jade was secretly glad that Willow wasn't there to see Jade run soulless, she liked Willow. Missed having a near-friend. And she found she was disappointed to hear Angel and Faith were leaving as well.
"No." Faith shrugged, obviously indifferent about the matter. "Sorry to leave you at B's mercy and all, but we can't stick around longer and Angel's not allowed to rescue you."
Jade frowned. "Not allowed—"
Faith reached the door. "Oh, and your vampire is wandering the halls like a hurt puppy. Got himself into a fight with the Slayers yesterday. Bored, I guess. I jumped in, helped him out." She thumbed the scratch on her face that Jade had noticed from earlier, grinning. "It was fun, actually. Called it training or whatever, but it's nice to kick their ass from time to time, remind them who the scary ones are." Her eyebrows shot up and down in conjunction with her smile, then her expression settled down again. "But it's obvious that he wants to be here, and he can't, so he's just moping. And one brooding vampire is more than enough, okay?"
"Thought he'd just be hanging around with Buffy," Jade commented, sounding more bitter than she wanted to. But she meant it. She might be lonely in here, but there were at least people who wanted to be around him, ones that he hadn't tried to kill or maim. She didn't exile him, she exiled herself.
Faith scoffed. "As if Buffy wants Spike anywhere near her after..." She cut herself off when she saw how Jade stared at her, and she grinned wickedly. "Anyway, not my place to say, or whatever."
"Wait, what'd you mean?" Jade asked as Faith's hand closed around the doorknob and pulled. "Unless it's some sex thing," Jade added as an afterthought. Faith was a bit more crude and blunt than Jade was, not at all as tactful.
Faith laughed. "Definitely not a sex thing," she reassured the Slaypire. "Well. Enjoy your cell. Hope it does you more good than it did me."
"Good luck," Jade said as the door closed, realising then she wasn't quite sure what she was wishing Faith good luck for. The Slayer had said a lot without saying much at all, and she'd kept just as much hidden. Some sort of mission that she was traipsing off on.
And part of Jade wished she could have gone with her.
Instead, she'd sat back down at her table and sketched. Faith's large doe-like eyes were recent enough for Jade to sketch them down, and so she did, until two dark orbs stared back at her. At least it was a change from her last drawings. She thumbed the pages. Nothing there but darkness and blood. And lots of Spike. The curve of his cheekbones, the intensity of his eyes. His lips. She couldn't help but draw him, although not nearly as well as if he'd been there for her to observe. Still. Her artistry required a muse, and soul or no soul, she couldn't deny that it was Spike.
She supposed it was a bit ironic that she'd asked him to go because she couldn't look at him without feeling guilty, and then she'd drawn him many times. Never as good as the real thing.
But she'd never have that anyway. Even if she had deserved him, somehow.
And he hadn't come back yet. Maybe it was for the best. She hadn't been kind to him. She blushed—or she would have, if it were still possible—at the memory, how she had pinned him to the floor and he'd allowed it, just staring up at her with eyes that were far too trusting, still as a statue. And she tried to banish those memories, how he'd looked, staring up at her, but it wasn't working. Nothing was pushing these thoughts away.
Not until the door opened again, two days after Faith had left, and no-one but nameless Slayers delivering her blood until in came Buffy, Kennedy and Spike.
She hadn't been sleeping. Most of her time was spent awake until finally the exhaustion would bear her down for a few hours. But their footsteps were enough to rouse her from her quiet contemplation, wordless arguing between Spike and Buffy that she probably could have listened to if she'd wanted, but the truth was, she couldn't be bothered. She checked to make sure she was clothed at least, not the clothes that Spike had brought her a couple days ago, a cleaner pair that didn't look any different. She supposed she could have cared more, held more curiousity and maybe fear when the three of them piled into her room, but she just felt tired.
She wanted to look at Spike, nearly broke down and allowed herself one look, but held firm, only barely. Somehow, it was easier to look at the Slayers she'd tried to kill rather than the man she'd tried to rape.
Made sense though. She didn't care about the women like she did about Spike. That was just fact she couldn't ignore.
She didn't have anything comical or laid-back to say, some witty barb like Spike would, instead she just watched the three of them enter her room and noticed how they left the door ajar behind them.
"You're going on a trip." Kennedy said, and something seemed to have distressed and angered her, her face a mask of stone, eyes even darker than normal. Jade wasn't sure if it had something to do with her or something else, but she didn't think Kennedy would respond well to her asking. "Getting a little break from your room."
"Oh?" Jade asked. Buffy was still shooting a glare at Spike, and she could tell from her peripherals, without focusing on the white-haired vampire, that the look he shot back at Buffy was equally displeased. Jade realised then that there was an odd black bar like rod on Kennedy's belt, hanging off it like she was a police officer. It took Jade another moment to realise that the rod was a cattle prod, or some sort of electric shocking thing, and she swallowed, doing her best to look complacent and not defiant.
"Yeah. I'll need to put these on you." Kennedy continued in the same flat, matter-of-fact voice, displaying large metal shackles meant for tinier wrists. She knew whose.
"Bloody excessive!" Spike swore, and this time, she couldn't keep her eyes from glancing to him. Habit. He looked cleaner, pale as ever, but there were no dark circles around his eyes, and only the trace of a bruise, she knew not from her, but likely from the fight that Faith had mentioned. For a second, she was jealous. Should have been me, having his back. She missed a good fight. The three days she'd been… that didn't count. Not for a fight, at least. Still. If she'd hit one of the Slayers too hard, drew blood… she didn't have the same restraint she had before. Not with this hunger that never left her, this blood lust.
She eyed the manacles. They were probably for good reason, although she still didn't know where she was going or why.
Buffy scowled viciously at the bleach blonde vampire. "I thought we agreed you were going to be quiet if you wanted to tag along, Spike."
His black brow lowered, closer to his sky blue eyes that were mere gray in the confines of her badly lit room. "Like you could stop me," He muttered, but it was so quiet that only Jade's vampire hearing could pick it up, and she didn't reveal his faux deference.
"What's going on?" Jade asked at the same time she bared her slim wrists to Kennedy, only to have the Slayer turn her around so her arms could be behind her back instead, the clunk of steel ringing in her ears as the metal wrapped around her. And it was cold, even to her, but not uncomfortable, just a difference in weight. Her burns had been healing, albeit slower than the rest of her wounds. And her battered arms were almost fully recuperated, Elijah's legacy almost a thing of the past. The time alone in her room had been good for recuperation at least. Of the body, anyway. Drinking blood and doing nothing but trying to sleep and drawing, well, it wasn't strenuous.
"You're needed." Kennedy said, her breath almost on Jade's cheek as the Slayer finished with her tinkering, letting Jade's wrists rest somewhat, and letting her face Buffy and Spike. Spike didn't look worried, at least, more irritated, so she could hope that this wasn't for some sort of trial.
"Just bloody tell her, you obscure sods," Spike complained, shooting an answering glower back at Buffy.
Buffy tore her emerald eyes away from Spike and settled them on Jade. "We haven't been able to bring Willow back. Billy, the warlock, he's skilled in Astral-projecty stuff. He's tried some things, but it hasn't worked." Buffy's eyes darted over to Kennedy then, who looked back at Jade stoically, not seeing the blonde's askance look. That was probably why Kennedy was so disquieted. Her lover was still off, and nothing had been successful yet.
"But we're trying something else. Billy's been using a loved one of Willow to try to communicate her back." Buffy's lips thinned and she glanced to Kennedy again, and Jade could glimpse that they'd likely tried with Kennedy, and it hadn't worked. More reason for her to be upset.
"Sophie's here now, the coven brought her, so we're going to try again. But she wants you with her. The person doing the astral whatevering needs an anchor, and she wanted you." The anger in Kennedy's eyes wasn't missed as Buffy continued to explain, but Jade could feel a panic well up in her chest and she took a step back, shaking her head.
"I can't."
Children, blood. Eyes open. Staring at nothing. Screams, begs. Laughing at them all.
If she still breathed, she'd be hyperventilating. She couldn't see Sophie not after what Jade had done, "I can't." Maybe Sophie didn't know. It was a selfish thought, and the only one that was any hope to her. Maybe she didn't know, and wouldn't look at Jade like she was some kind of… monster. But of course Sophie knew. Kennedy would have told her in a heartbeat. "Have Kennedy do it. I can't." She didn't have anything else any more eloquent to say, nothing to explain it. Not another harmless child anywhere near her, and magic, no, she couldn't.
Kennedy gritted her teeth, eyes like twin black holes. "She asked for you."
"Super girl," Spike's words were in her ear, he'd pushed past Kennedy and reached Jade, his arm reaching out for her straightened elbow. He could touch her. She couldn't touch him. Not after… And she shouldn't be taking comfort in it, but she did, the gentleness of his touch, the softness of his words. Buffy looking back at the two of them, her eyes narrowed slits. "She needs you. Needs your help."
"I can't," Her voice dropped to the same low whisper. Begging him, like he could fix it all.
"You won't hurt her." He promised her, his eyes burning with sincerity. Spoken so vehemently, so that she might believe it like he did. "They need 'elp. And you help, remember? You've got to." He didn't say the words, 'it's a start', but they were implied. And damn it, he was so comforting, so reassuring, and she couldn't even remember to be reserved towards him. Couldn't tell him to go away again, because the truth was that if she was going to do this, she needed him with her. And with that single thought, she knew she'd decided.
Right thing here, she reminded herself. Amends weren't possible. But she had to start somewhere. And no, she couldn't leave Sophie without her adoptive mother because she was afraid. Wouldn't be a coward. She couldn't let anything happen to Sophie, and she wouldn't.
Kennedy was still glaring at her, waiting impatiently. Absentmindedly, she felt Spike tuck her hair behind her ears. He'd seen the changes in her stature that the others hadn't, how her shoulders had lowered and she'd released a breath she hadn't needed.
"Okay." She nodded. "You're right. I'll do it."
They didn't lead her by the handcuffs, just expected her to walk in line. And Spike was there, at her side. So damn encouraging and reassuring it made her want to cry. She'd been terrible to him, but she didn't know how to help it. Didn't know how to fix the rift she'd made, or know if it was even right to do so. She didn't deserve his friendship, his nearness, and his smiles, even though she craved them.
They stepped into a chamber, one that was excessively bright it seemed, compared to the dimness in her room, so she winced, taking a moment to adjust when she heard a gentle, shrill tone.
"Jade." And of course it would be Sophie, her blonde hair nearly white in the light, large eyes as blue as the sky. The child of four—or was she five now? Jade didn't remember her birthday, and for some reason, that lack of knowledge made her guilty, like she should know it. But Sophie wasn't her cousin, or her adopted daughter or even her Goddaughter. She had just been one of the kids at the Orphanage who'd always smiled at her, one of the ones she'd rescued.
And now the only one she hadn't tried to kill of that lot.
"Hello, Soph," Jade said in an even a tone as she could manage. She was still half-afraid that Sophie would hurl insults and accusations at her for killing her friends. But maybe Kennedy hadn't told her all the details. That was likely. The Slayer didn't seem as nearly as comfortable with Sophie as Willow did. She probably didn't know how to deal with the girl while her lover was indisposed.
Sophie took a few more steps towards Jade before Kennedy intervened, intercepting Sophie by stepping in front of her. Jade saw Kennedy's hand twitch, as if she was debating reaching out and giving Sophie a comforting pat, some touch of some kind, but the Slayer didn't reach out further, just made herself into a wall.
"Don't get too close yet, not before the ceremony." Kennedy asserted.
Sophie's large eyes bobbed, but didn't tear, an upset expression on her face. "But—" She pointed to how Jade's arms were tucked behind her back, inaccessible.
"No. Remember what I told you?" Kennedy glanced back over her shoulder to look at Jade, her eyes dark, but also a little nonplussed. The Slayer was relentless and fearless in battle, but she was lost in the dealings of a child. "She's not good when people are close right now. So no hugs like last time."
Sophie nodded slowly, admonished, peeking over at Jade past Kennedy's hip. Her soft lips were pressed into a little open 'o' shape, and her eyes were still wide, and Jade wasn't sure exactly what she was thinking, but it seemed like Sophie didn't know either. Didn't know whether to be afraid or sad or just miss her, so she wanted to be closer.
"Come on," Spike's voice in her ear again, as he shifted her to the side of the large circular room. His shoulder was close enough to her that she could rest her head on it, and wanted to, wanted that bit of comfort as Sophie's large eyes followed her around the room. Buffy had moved to the middle, where the warlock—Billy—was standing, fixing some herbs and small bones around in a circle. Willow was there too, on a thin bed on the floor. She didn't just look like she was sleeping, she looked like she was in a coma. Her chest rose and fell with sleep, but her eyes were tightly closed, and she didn't jerk or move. Her red hair looked like fire in the light, spread out under her, but her skin looked all the more paler, though not quite as much as a vampire's.
"They'll pull you in when they need you." Spike continued to inform her. His eyes were carefully devoid of emotion when she looked at him, an impressive feat for him. One thing he'd never really mastered was keeping his emotions in check. He didn't hide.
"Did you watch the last times they tried?" Jade asked.
Spike shrugged. "Once, with Kennedy in the circle, not the lit'l one. Mighty boring. Nothing good came out of it either, and then she stomped away like a ticked off elephant."
"What do I have to do?"
Spike scratched his chin. "Don't rightly know. Magic isn't my forte, and I didn't really ask."
"Been getting into fights instead?"
He arched his scarred brow, then tilted his lip into a smirk. "Yeah. Needed a bit 'f fun to tide me over."
"You don't have to stay, you know. It's not fair that—"
He stopped her by wrapping his fingers around her arm. "'M not leavin' you alone here. Even if you think you want me to. You're a big fan o' the role reversal. You'd leave me like this?"
She glanced away. Kennedy was bringing Sophie into the circle, where Billy was giving the girl an encouraging smile, even managing to pull a quiet giggle from the child.
"No," Jade answered honestly, feeling Spike's eyes still burning into her even without looking at him. If the same thing had happened to Spike, no, she wouldn't, although she doubted he'd be acting the same way as she did.
"Then it's sodding settled," Spike spoke, his language stronger than the weight with which he delivered the sentence. It was more like a sigh of relief that she wasn't fighting him, at least on this. She'd be honest with him, and she hadn't been. But it was the truth that was a killer.
She was surprised when Spike spoke again, exhaling a little sigh when he answered her question with a matter-of-fact-tone.
"You're the anchor. Sophie's going to go to sleep like her mum, and glasses boy is going to connect the two of you, so she can draw on your energy. You're a protector, o' sorts. You'll be connected to her and keep her from drifting off. A protector," Spike repeated. "That's why she wanted you, 'n not Kennedy. She was scared. Wanted her guardian."
"Thought you didn't know much about magic," Jade countered.
"Can't bloody tell you what sort of weed they're putting down there, that's for sure, but I have the gist. The little Glinda wanted you."
"You used to call Tara that," Jade murmured.
"Well, they're related, aren't they? Look kinda similar too. Eyes too big for their head." He said it with affection, and she felt a pang of loss, even though she'd never actually met Tara, but if she was anything like Sophie, Jade was sure that they might have been friends.
"I still don't think…" Jade hesitated, watching Billy get Sophie to lay down on a makeshift bed of sheets, then beckon for Jade to come over. She took one step, and then turned back towards Spike, panic rising in her chest. "I'm no Guardian."
His eyes gazed back at her. Calm, accepting. "To her, you are. Best make it work."
A smile flitted across her lips of their own accord. Not exactly comforting, but demanding. That was easier to bear, from Spike. Expected. She stepped over to the middle of the room, where they waited. Kennedy kept her eyes on her, a warning in those dark orbs. A if you hurt her was apparent, even without words. Jade wondered if Kennedy was more worried about Sophie for her sake or for Willow's. A slayer that Jade didn't know took up the opposite side of her as she kneeled in front of Sophie.
The man, Billy, gave her an encouraging, although not entirely fearless smile. She'd tried to kill him, she remembered that. And from his light cringe, she was sure he remembered too.
"Kneel there, that's good. Sophie, how are you doing?" The man turned his attention to the small girl, who was exceptionally calm for someone so young, part of her quiet demeanor, but Jade could see how she trembled.
"Good," Sophie answered back in a tinny tone. Her eyes found Jade, apprehension in them, although Jade didn't think it was all to do with her. She was worried for Willow too.
"This'll work," Jade promised. Promises were a bad idea, especially to children, but she couldn't help herself. She wanted to alleviate the fear in Sophie's eyes, and she was rewarded with a smile, even if it was small.
"I'll be connecting you to the astral realm, Sophie. You hold Willow's hand, that's right, perfect, and you'll be in a sort of sleep, but you'll be able to move around."
"And I won't be alone?" Sophie asked, frightened still.
"No. Jade'll be with you. Like a presence. She won't be talking, but she'll be with you. You'll be safe—not, not that it's dangerous." Billy amended hastily, adding a muttered, "Hopefully," under his breath. He noted Jade's significant look and paled somewhat. "We don't know exactly where Willow went to. But it likely shouldn't be that precarious."
Jade nodded reluctantly. She didn't like the idea of someone as young as Sophie doing this basically by herself. With just Jade to help her, and what could she do? "How will we find Willow?"
"It's uh, my hope that she'll sense Sophie's presence. And come to her." Billy fixed his askew glasses.
"Will I be in the astral realm too?" Jade asked, still confused about the whole thing. Billy tilted his head side to side.
"Yes, and no. You'll be aware of the 'real world', which is why there's to be absolute silence," Billy cleared his throat and looked pointedly at the observers in the room, one last reminder. "So if anything happens, you'll be jarred somewhat, but if you stay focused, you should be able to see what Sophie sees. You're the anchor. You connect her between the astral world and the real one."
"I thought that was your job," Jade said with as much humour as she could muster, and at least Billy gave her a tight smile for her troubles.
"I'm the magic. I'm the one who's making it so Sophie can Astral project. She's doing that through me, but she needs a bridge still. Make sense yet?"
Jade let out a shaky laugh. "Not a bit."
"It'll be okay," Sophie said then, and she'd been so quiet, Jade had nearly thought she was asleep already. "We'll be together."
"Yeah," Jade said, looking down at the small girl. For Sophie's sake, she couldn't afford to show doubts. "You're right. Not a worry."
"Okay. Let's start." Billy lightly bound Willow's and Sophie's hands together, sprinkling a few herbs on their joined hands before letting them lay back down onto the stone floor. Then he wedged himself in between Jade and Sophie, looking a bit nervous at his close proximity to a Slaypire, but he managed a stoic enough expression. Jade closed her eyes as she felt his thumb touch her forehead, warm and pulsing…
Pulsing. Blood. She'd eaten her fill before, but not enough to abate the hunger she felt rising in her, and how easy would it be, manacles or not to just dive for his wrist and take what she wanted.
No, not now, not now. Jade took her own thumb into her fingers and squeezed until she heard the cracks. It was a small pain, but a pain nonetheless, and it helped clear her head.
"Not the thumb." She said hoarsely. "It's loud." She didn't open her eyes, didn't want to see confusion or disgust or fear on Billy's face, then she heard a voice from behind her.
"Just do as she says, mate. Can hear your little heart beating. Like a drum, 've no doubt." Spike, answering from where he stood. She could see him even with her eyes clothed, the way he must be shaking his head and looking at Billy like he was an idiot.
His index finger was applied instead, very, very lightly, and she was grateful she no longer had to feel that tiny little beating that he had probably forgotten of, and she was all too aware. Now she could relax, at least. She opened her eyes a crack to see that Billy's other hand was on Sophie's forehead, putting some sort of oil there, then on her mouth, and then just below the jugular, and then his hand rested back up on Sophie's forehead, and he began to mutter quietly and rapidly.
"The inward eye, the sightless sea, ayala flows through the river in me," Billy chanted, over and over until the words were just one muddle. She felt it then, when his finger left her forehead, but there was still a connection, tangible but not physical, and she could feel the rapid beating of Sophie's heart, felt it calm and her breath grow level, felt her drift away, but still remain tethered, and everything was dark, since their eyes were closed, but with an inhale of a breath that wasn't hers, she opened them, and saw a world of swirling gray.