Chapter Three - If The Shoo Fits
The first thing she ran into on her own walkway
was the very large chest of a person that smelled
strangely familiar. Large arms grabbed Buffy
before she fell. There stood before her her ghost, her
old dreams and wishes, her Heaven and Hell. The shock of
old energy ran through her at his touch as he held her
arms. Some things just never changed.
"Angel."
Angel, still dressed in his trademark, old, black
leather coat, stood before her, not looking a day older
than the first night, when she had knocked him on his
derriere in that alley. No, something had changed. His
expression wasn't as smug and self-assured. His chocolate,
fathomless eyes danced with a nameless need.
"Angel. I'm in a hurry...."
"This will only take a minute, Buffy. Have you
seen Faith?"
"Wha-Look, I don't have time for this-"
"Wait, her parole officer said she was coming
here. Wesley got word from the Council that she was sent
to finish up old business, in a good way. Why she didn't
come to me first-"
Buffy crossed her arms, took a deep breath and
reined in old emotions as she took a step back.
"The only communication I've had with Faith is a
letter she sent me and I just got it today. She was
asking me if she could come back to Sunnydale to work.
Other than that, nothing. The only reason she didn't come
to you was because she didn't want to work with Cordelia
every day. I'm not being rude, but I've got to run.
Dawn's been taken and so has Willow."
The shock on Angel's face was apparent. "My god.
Can I help? Do you know who's done it?"
"I've got nothing but destroyed window treatments
and an extremely upset Tara."
Just then, the unmistakable sound of Spike's old
car chugalugged up the street and stopped in front of the
house. As the engine cut off, Spike's head popped from the
driver's window, and he pulled himself out far enough to
sit on the door itself. He lit a cigarette. The
others piled out as he spoke.
"Well, look, children! It's Rhett and Scarlett,
back from Tara! So, when are you going to ask me if I give
a damn, Peaches?"
Before Angel could respond, Buffy caught sight of
Dawn, followed by a frightened and confused Willow. She
ran up to the car, closing the distance in less than a
second.
"My God, Dawnie! Are you hurt? Are you OK?" She
grabbed her sister and hugged her tight, squeezing her
eyes shut as relief flooded through her from head to
toe.
A very exasperated Dawn answered, "Buffy, I'm OK,
really. I'm not the one that needs help. It's Willow. The
real Willow."
When her sister finally let her go, she caught sight
of Angel and squealed. "Angel! Oh, my god! I need a
massive hug!"
As Dawn left her arms, Buffy finally zoned in on
Willow. "Willow? Are you OK?" Somehow, Willow looked
younger, standing there on her grass, looking lost.
"H-hi, Buffy. Y-you look...older. Have you seen
Xander? What year is it?"
"What year?"
Faith appeared behind Willow, her expression
unreadable. "Hey, B. Sorry about the confusion. This here
is Willow at 15. Remember when you told me about Amy
Madison's evil-bitch mother? She's been walking around in
Hotel Willow, while the real Willow was locked up in the
cheerleader statue all this time. How 'bout everybody go
inside, and we figure what to do
next."
Buffy realized she was staring at Willow and stopped.
"Uh. Yeah. Go ahead. What to do next? What's going on?"
She unconsciously put an arm around Willow as she turned
her around toward the house, all the while
keeping her attention on Faith.
"Katherine Madison got away once we made the switch.
She's one mean Dark Magic player, and she's going to be
back."
Buffy felt Angel behind her, listening to their
conversation as they all made it back to the porch. Dawn
made a beeline around them and headed into the house.
"Why is she going to be back? Vengeance?" Angel
asked.
Faith looked back at him as she answered. "No.
We had to have Dawn look like she was being kidnapped for
the Katie/Willow so that she wouldn't figure it out. The
spell we used to free Willow needed The Key. Good old
Katy's going to realize who The Key really is and she's
going to want it for herself."
The old punch-in-the-gut-feeling washed over Buffy.
"Not again."
Spike finally worked his way out of his car and
came up behind them, trailing cigarette smoke. He couldn't
get around the group, so he made his
own version of small talk.
"Anybody gotta light? This fag's gonna burn up
soon, and this is turnin' out to be a three-fag night." He
intently stared at his cigarette as he followed them up
the steps. The group turned around and stared at him.
"What?"
Angel smiled. It didn't reach his eyes. "Spike,
stop showing your age."
"What? Don't you all know what a bleedin' fag
is? I've been fillin' up yer lungs for years wi' the
smoke. And, I'm not as old as you are, Old Man."
They left him standing on the porch, smoking the
last dregs off his cigarette, as he watched them all
through the picture window. "Nope, Peaches, nothing's
changed."
Two sets of ancient eyes watched from their porch
as Spike finally went inside the Summers' house, slight
smiles on their lips. The older gentleman turned to his
wife of many years. "Do you think they'll figure it out,
Sweetness?"
The wife laid down her knitting as she contemplated
her husband's question.
"I think they will, Dearie. They seem to always to."
Another car went by, and they both waved. The driver waved
back with a vague smile on his lips.
The husband shoved his glasses back onto the bridge
of his nose and leaned back in his rocking chair.
"I think the tall dark gentleman is going to be
Mr. Savior this time, Love Bug. What do you think?"
His Wife picked up her knitting and started
working her wool again, her fingers deftly belying her
age. "Oh, maybe, maybe. He hasn't been around for
a while. But, you've got the two Slayers together
again, and they both look pretty healthy." She glanced
over the top of her glasses and caught sight of
a figure hugging close to the big oak in front yard.
"Oh, look, Sweetums, the next show is about to
start. By the big oak tree."
The husband looked over at the Summers yard and
finally caught sight of the figure skulking in the
shadows.
"Aahh-haaa, you're right. Right on time. I'm
going to go pop some popcorn, Honey. Would you like some,
too?"
The wife never missed a stitch. "Oh, yes, dear. Why
don't you make us some of that lovely iced tea?"
"You've got it. Be right back. Let me know if
anything happens."
"Of course, now hurry up. Shoo!"
#
The first thing she ran into on her own walkway
was the very large chest of a person that smelled
strangely familiar. Large arms grabbed Buffy
before she fell. There stood before her her ghost, her
old dreams and wishes, her Heaven and Hell. The shock of
old energy ran through her at his touch as he held her
arms. Some things just never changed.
"Angel."
Angel, still dressed in his trademark, old, black
leather coat, stood before her, not looking a day older
than the first night, when she had knocked him on his
derriere in that alley. No, something had changed. His
expression wasn't as smug and self-assured. His chocolate,
fathomless eyes danced with a nameless need.
"Angel. I'm in a hurry...."
"This will only take a minute, Buffy. Have you
seen Faith?"
"Wha-Look, I don't have time for this-"
"Wait, her parole officer said she was coming
here. Wesley got word from the Council that she was sent
to finish up old business, in a good way. Why she didn't
come to me first-"
Buffy crossed her arms, took a deep breath and
reined in old emotions as she took a step back.
"The only communication I've had with Faith is a
letter she sent me and I just got it today. She was
asking me if she could come back to Sunnydale to work.
Other than that, nothing. The only reason she didn't come
to you was because she didn't want to work with Cordelia
every day. I'm not being rude, but I've got to run.
Dawn's been taken and so has Willow."
The shock on Angel's face was apparent. "My god.
Can I help? Do you know who's done it?"
"I've got nothing but destroyed window treatments
and an extremely upset Tara."
Just then, the unmistakable sound of Spike's old
car chugalugged up the street and stopped in front of the
house. As the engine cut off, Spike's head popped from the
driver's window, and he pulled himself out far enough to
sit on the door itself. He lit a cigarette. The
others piled out as he spoke.
"Well, look, children! It's Rhett and Scarlett,
back from Tara! So, when are you going to ask me if I give
a damn, Peaches?"
Before Angel could respond, Buffy caught sight of
Dawn, followed by a frightened and confused Willow. She
ran up to the car, closing the distance in less than a
second.
"My God, Dawnie! Are you hurt? Are you OK?" She
grabbed her sister and hugged her tight, squeezing her
eyes shut as relief flooded through her from head to
toe.
A very exasperated Dawn answered, "Buffy, I'm OK,
really. I'm not the one that needs help. It's Willow. The
real Willow."
When her sister finally let her go, she caught sight
of Angel and squealed. "Angel! Oh, my god! I need a
massive hug!"
As Dawn left her arms, Buffy finally zoned in on
Willow. "Willow? Are you OK?" Somehow, Willow looked
younger, standing there on her grass, looking lost.
"H-hi, Buffy. Y-you look...older. Have you seen
Xander? What year is it?"
"What year?"
Faith appeared behind Willow, her expression
unreadable. "Hey, B. Sorry about the confusion. This here
is Willow at 15. Remember when you told me about Amy
Madison's evil-bitch mother? She's been walking around in
Hotel Willow, while the real Willow was locked up in the
cheerleader statue all this time. How 'bout everybody go
inside, and we figure what to do
next."
Buffy realized she was staring at Willow and stopped.
"Uh. Yeah. Go ahead. What to do next? What's going on?"
She unconsciously put an arm around Willow as she turned
her around toward the house, all the while
keeping her attention on Faith.
"Katherine Madison got away once we made the switch.
She's one mean Dark Magic player, and she's going to be
back."
Buffy felt Angel behind her, listening to their
conversation as they all made it back to the porch. Dawn
made a beeline around them and headed into the house.
"Why is she going to be back? Vengeance?" Angel
asked.
Faith looked back at him as she answered. "No.
We had to have Dawn look like she was being kidnapped for
the Katie/Willow so that she wouldn't figure it out. The
spell we used to free Willow needed The Key. Good old
Katy's going to realize who The Key really is and she's
going to want it for herself."
The old punch-in-the-gut-feeling washed over Buffy.
"Not again."
Spike finally worked his way out of his car and
came up behind them, trailing cigarette smoke. He couldn't
get around the group, so he made his
own version of small talk.
"Anybody gotta light? This fag's gonna burn up
soon, and this is turnin' out to be a three-fag night." He
intently stared at his cigarette as he followed them up
the steps. The group turned around and stared at him.
"What?"
Angel smiled. It didn't reach his eyes. "Spike,
stop showing your age."
"What? Don't you all know what a bleedin' fag
is? I've been fillin' up yer lungs for years wi' the
smoke. And, I'm not as old as you are, Old Man."
They left him standing on the porch, smoking the
last dregs off his cigarette, as he watched them all
through the picture window. "Nope, Peaches, nothing's
changed."
Two sets of ancient eyes watched from their porch
as Spike finally went inside the Summers' house, slight
smiles on their lips. The older gentleman turned to his
wife of many years. "Do you think they'll figure it out,
Sweetness?"
The wife laid down her knitting as she contemplated
her husband's question.
"I think they will, Dearie. They seem to always to."
Another car went by, and they both waved. The driver waved
back with a vague smile on his lips.
The husband shoved his glasses back onto the bridge
of his nose and leaned back in his rocking chair.
"I think the tall dark gentleman is going to be
Mr. Savior this time, Love Bug. What do you think?"
His Wife picked up her knitting and started
working her wool again, her fingers deftly belying her
age. "Oh, maybe, maybe. He hasn't been around for
a while. But, you've got the two Slayers together
again, and they both look pretty healthy." She glanced
over the top of her glasses and caught sight of
a figure hugging close to the big oak in front yard.
"Oh, look, Sweetums, the next show is about to
start. By the big oak tree."
The husband looked over at the Summers yard and
finally caught sight of the figure skulking in the
shadows.
"Aahh-haaa, you're right. Right on time. I'm
going to go pop some popcorn, Honey. Would you like some,
too?"
The wife never missed a stitch. "Oh, yes, dear. Why
don't you make us some of that lovely iced tea?"
"You've got it. Be right back. Let me know if
anything happens."
"Of course, now hurry up. Shoo!"
#