Title: Replacement 2/?
Author: Brekkia
Contact:
Date: 3/13/02
Spoilers: Through The Gift then goes AU
Summary: Willow takes up Slaying after The Gift.
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: None
Category: General
Distribution: I guess if you want it that badly... Just send 19.95 to... I kid. Ask and ye shall receive.
Feedback: Constructive criticism always welcome. Praise abjectly sought.
Disclaimer: It all belongs to Joss, Mutant Enemy, etc., etc., etc. I just let them have all the fun Joss won't. I own nothing except my twisted mind, which you really don't want. Please don't sue.

Replacement

"Well, well, look at 'er? Big bad witchy woman's got her mojo workin'."

Spike watched the scene from another rooftop, a half-smoked cigarette dangling from his lips. He'd been watching for a while now. Following her out every night after the Bit went off to bed.

He didn't really care what happened to her. But She would have wanted him to try and help her lackeys the same as Dawn. Not that he'd been needed much.

The punk was doing the Watcher routine with Dawn, and Red was dishing out major ass whippings to the vamp population all by her lonesome.

Spike was lucky if he got any leftovers when she was done.

Red launched herself at the face of a tall duplex, rebounding off its brick wall. The big demon was hot on her trail. Spike heard her cape snap when she twisted in mid-air her back to the direction where she was heading, which to Spike seemed to be another rooftop.

Red was facing the demon and Spike saw her mouth moving, but he couldn't hear what she was saying, good chance it was another spell, though. Red landed on the top of the roof, running backwards with swiftness and balance that defied the limits of human agility. The demon had reached her by now, swiping its claws at her, always missing but coming within inches of connecting.

Spike unconsciously leaned forward; narrowing his eyes to peer into the darkness blanketing the rooftop Willow and the demon tarried on. He wondered how Red was going to get out of this. Eventually she ran out of roof and knew it somehow, and jumped again before running off the edge. Straight up, like black lightning going the wrong way.

Spike's night vision allowed him to follow Red and the demon's upward flight. Both having been swallowed by the night above where the city lights did not reach. They seemed to go up forever, until Spike could see nothing but black dots.

Then Willow stopped—and dropped. The demon was flying so fast in its pursuit of her that it couldn't stop before Willow brought her booted feet down into its face. Then they were falling back to Earth.

The demon was clutching its head as it plunged in the belly flop position. The long, thin wings attached to its back trailed uselessly behind the rest of its body. Willow came down on the demon's back between its wings, and then they began to fall even faster to the ground. Willow's feet seemed glued to the demon's body even before terminal velocity kicked in. There was no stopping them now, Spike thought.

The demon was kicking its legs and waving its arms madly trying to get from under Willow when it saw the ground coming up, to no avail. Spike lost sight of them when they came down fast behind the building Willow jumped into the sky from. But he definitely heard when they landed.

Spike waited… and waited for Red to show herself. He doubted she would perform a maneuver like that if it had killed her. She was bloody Gung Ho, all Semper Fi, when came to what she called her "duty".

When five minutes passed, Spike tossed away his cigarette and sighed.

"Bleedin' witch got herself killed."

Spike leaped off his roof and landed noisily, compared to Red. With a careless pace, Spike swaggered up to the alley where he figured Willow and the demon hit. He could smell blood, not human though, the closer he came to the alleyway.

Didn't mean much. Red could've died with every bone in her body broken, and not lose a drop of blood. Angelus killed bloke like that once.

Green liquid was running out of the alley, spilling off the curb in a fast moving river. Spike walked parallel to the flow and into the alley. The demon was lying far up the way. Its body had come down on a metal trash bin. The receptacle had crumpled like tinfoil under the demon.

The blood originated from the demon's legs, or rather where its legs had once been. The piecemeal was lying a few feet away from the corpse. Red was no where to be found.

"What the 'el? Where'd she go?" Spike asked himself looking about the mostly empty alleyway.

Scraping of heavy metal against rock… concrete. Spike ran from the alley onto the street, following the familiar sound. The sound of a manhole cover being opened and pushed along the street's black top.

And there she was. Red was hauling herself out of the middle of the street down on Spike's right.

"Ef me," Spike said.

She crawled away from the manhole and she was breathing harshly. She muttered a few words and waved her right at the manhole cover causing it to slowly move back into place with a clang. There upon Red promptly collapsed onto the street on her back.

Spike pulled out his smokes. He jerked one out half way then pulled it clear with his mouth. He leisurely strolled toward Willow, making no effort to move quietly. Her chest was rising and falling with her every labored breath. A pretty eye-catching sight with what she was wearing.

Spike came to a stop. The tips of his black boots were right next the top of Red's head. Her skin was pale, probably from exhaustion, and drenched with sweat, her boyishly short hair stood out redder than usual. She had her eyes screwed shut and her unpainted lips were parted just enough that Spike could feel her breath hitting him in the face from his lofty position above her face. Spike lit the cigarette between his lips.

"Tuckered yourself out, Red?"

A groan escaped Willow's lips then she opened one green eye and left the other a wink. "Spike."

He stood there smoking his cigarette while she lay nearly motionless. He had no intention of helping her up, in fact he was still a little miffed she told him to bugger off the last time he called himself helping her out. She wanted to do everything by herself, fine.

Spike was on his third fag by the time Willow recouped enough strength to get to her feet. Willow stumbled about, head bowed, her breathing no less labored. As she staggered, her cloak came apart in front. Spike lifted his scarred eyebrow and leered at Red's outfit underneath. It was a rare occasion when she wasn't covering herself up with that damn cloak.

Black leather molded to every curve and every inch of her skin from the neck down to her ankles, where a pair of black Yukon Icelander boots then took over.

Months of Slaying obviously had a hardening effect on Red's body. For as long as Spike had known Willow, she had been slight, not quite skinny, but slender and softly shaped. But nightly exertion and regular training had whittled away that softness, leaving in its place a whip-thin musculature.

"I guess any vamps out tonight got a free pass," Spike started, talking around the cigarette between his lips. "Wreaked as you are, you couldn't slay a mosquito."

"Xander and the Buffybot are on vampire patrol," Willow mumbled, head still low.

"Boy Scout were you?"

Red lifted her head, swaying a little, and gave him a confused glance.

"Preparedness and all that?"

Willow lowered her head again. "Elementary my dear Watson. Is it dead?"

"Yeah. Neat trick that, goin' all intangible a second before you hit."

Willow didn't respond. She reached for the belt around her waist with a trembling hand, and the rip of Velcro followed. She pulled out a red caplet and put it in her mouth and swallowed the pill dry.

Right before Spike's eyes Willow's strength returned. She inhaled sharply and straightened up. Spike frowned deeply when he felt a wave of sudden power emit from the witch.

Willow stepped around him and walked towards the alleyway. Spike decided not to follow. He knew what she was going to do.

Can't have a demon corpse lying about, can we?

Willow disappeared into the alley and a minute later a brilliant flare of blue light lit up the space between the two buildings.

Willow went home, still hopped up on the stimulant. She'd drawn on the last of her magic reserve disposing of the Holderack's body, but she had plenty of physical vigor left over. Willow checked the answering machine when she got in and there was a message from Xander saying he was still out with the robot and Willow was more than welcome to join him.

Sorry, Xander. This buzz is going to last another ten minutes, then I'm going to be unconscious.

Willow checked on Dawn before heading off to bed herself.

The fifteen-year-old girl was very much asleep. Willow watched her from the doorway, and smiled. Dawn had stopped staying up until Willow came home weeks ago, and Willow was glad she wasn't causing the girl to lose sleep anymore.

Willow yawned. The stimulant was wearing off. Time for bed.

Willow threw her cloak onto on a nearby chair in what use to be Joyce Summers' bedroom but was now hers then set about unlacing her boots. After toeing off her Icelanders, Willow began peeling off the cat suit, cursing Xander all the while. He was the diabolical mind behind her Slaying ensemble. Oh, he had a logical reason for Willow to wear the thing, one she grudgingly agreed with, but Willow had the feeling her childhood friend was living out some comic book bad girl fantasy through her.

Her alternate self wore something similar, and for awhile so had Willow. She had to admit black leather did give her a more intimidating appearance. And made her look like slut monster, too.

Now donned only in a plain white tee shirt and boxers, Willow slid under the covers and curled into a semi fetal position. She drifted off remembering how it felt when she launched herself up into the night and led the Holderack into the trap she devised for it. She'd outsmarted the demon and killed it with ease.

Why couldn't she have been this effective when Buffy was alive? She'd been selfish, that's why. Willow realized that's what it boiled down to. Buffy was the hero; the one who made all the sacrifices, it was her destiny, not Willow's. How much easier it would have been on Buffy if Willow had accepted more of that same responsibility instead of helping out with moral support and the odd spell here and there?

Maybe things might have turned out differently.

Maybe Tara and Giles and, yes, even Anya would have stayed. Maybe Buffy wouldn't have given her life one last time to save the world. Maybe Dawn would have her sister…

Willow fell into a deep sleep and didn't wake up for two days.