Brave New World
Chapter Two
Things were complicated. They had been for a while. The line between good and evil had blurred so much, Willow could hardly see it and she was starting to question whether life had really been as black and white as she once thought. Nowadays, she only ever saw grey. She knew things were complicated, she knew that. But one thing she had always been clear on was the fact she still loved Oz.
Now, she was even starting to question that.
If someone had asked her two years ago - say on Prom night - what she thought she would be doing in two years time, she would have had all the answers. She would have said she would be doing well in UC Sunnydale, spending her evenings with Oz, her weekends cheering the Dingoes on, her magick would have improved and she would be using it to help Buffy in the fight against evil.
So far, she only had two out of that selection, her magick had improved and she was using it to help Buffy.
Two years ago, she wouldn't have even thought about Spike, let alone considered the possibility that Spike would be kissing her. Or that she would be kissing him back.
But she was. And she was mentally noting the fact that his lips were not cold, not warm, but a pleasant in-between. She was savouring the feeling of being in someone's arms again. And she was silently screaming that she shouldn't be doing this, to think about Oz. But it was not thoughts of Oz or the fact she was kissing a neutered vampire that pulled her from the kiss. It was the sounds of boots thundering down the sidewalk.
She pulled away from Spike, sharing only a brief look with him before they both turned to watch a young blonde man stride down the street, his fingers clenching angrily.
"Hey!" Willow called, running over to him. "Hey, you shouldn't be out here. It's not safe."
The boy turned tear filled blue eyes to her and breathed heavily through his clenched teeth.
"I know," he said.
"So why don't you go on home, mate," Spike said, before his eyes lowered to the blood stains on the man's t-shirts. "Oh. What's happened to you then?"
"They killed him!" the young man cried. "He was all I had left and they killed him."
"Killed who?" Willow asked, touching his arm.
He wrenched away from her and the tears ran freely down his cheeks.
"My brother!" he screamed. "Mom and Dad have gone and he was all I had! But he's gone!"
"Ok, ok," Willow soothed. "What's your name?"
"Andrew," he answered sullenly. "And I know who you are and you can tell the Slayer that no one will stop me."
"Stop you doing something stupid, I suppose you mean," Spike sighed, grabbing Andrew's arm and tugging him along beside him as Willow ran to catch up with him.
"Spike, what are you doing?" she asked.
"Getting him back to HQ," he replied. "Can't have the boy out here on his own."
"I'm not a boy!" Andrew protested. "Let me go! I'm gonna kill him!"
But Spike didn't answer and Willow tailed silently after them, keeping an eye out for vampires. Anything to stop herself thinking about what would happen once she and Spike were alone together again.
"Buffy!" Dawn yelled up the stairs. "Spike and Willow are back, and they've got someone with them!"
Buffy left her room and descended the stairs, smiling at her sister. God, she had grown. She had turned fourteen only one week after Graduation and here she was, a tall, slender sixteen-year-old. A beautiful young woman, with shoulder skimming brunette hair and large, challenging blue eyes set in a pale face that rarely saw the sun.
Buffy opened the main door, heaving the wooden barricade to one side to allow Willow and Spike in. She eyed the person they brought with them sceptically, but said nothing. The entry hall filled up and Buffy shut the door before turning back to their new guest.
"So who are you?" she asked finally.
He didn't answer.
"His name's Andrew," Spike said. "Apparently he's Tucker's brother, but that means nothing to me."
"Tucker's brother?" Buffy asked. "As in Hell-Hound Tucker?"
"Yep," Willow nodded. "He was murdered early this evening."
Buffy noted the bloodstains on Andrew's shirt and approached him, touching the still wet stains.
"And you found him, did ya?" Doyle asked, looking sympathetically at the young man.
Andrew nodded.
"Ah," Doyle sighed. "That's a bitter pill to - Arrgaah!"
Dawn and Anya grabbed hold of him as he stumbled backwards clutching his head. They helped him to the floor and the rest of the group gathered, Tara disappearing to fetch a glass of water.
When the vision passed and Doyle was sitting up right, asking Tara for something stronger, he glanced back to Andrew, then to the group.
"Dick had a reason," he told them.
"What?" Willow asked. "The Mayor had a reason for what?"
"Killing the kid's brother."
Andrew stepped closer to Doyle, his hand shaking as he pointed at him.
"Tell me," he demanded. "Why did he kill my brother?"
"He was a threat," Doyle answered, rubbing his forehead. "He kept raising demons, didn't he, kid?"
"Yeah," Andrew said and frowned. "He said he was going to help you guys take out the Mayor. That's why he wanted to raise up the demons."
"Yeah, well, old Richard decided he couldn't be having that," Doyle continued. "So he removed the threat."
"He killed him," Andrew whimpered, the fight leaving him as he sank to the floor and broke into fresh sobs.
Dawn abandoned her place beside Doyle and took Andrew's shoulders.
"Hey, it's gonna be ok. You can stay here with us. We're gonna take the Mayor down."
Andrew looked up at her through tear soaked lashes.
"Then I'm gonna help you," he stated.
Willow left her bed when the sun rose. She left her room silently, though she needn't have bothered as Anya - her roommate - had spent the night in Doyle's room, fussing over him like a mother hen and her other roommate, Tara, was sound asleep.
Willow sank into the shadows into the hall, a habit. She remembered days spent in the sunshine, where she was sure she was safe. Now the only place she felt safe was in the shadows where no one could see her.
She slipped into the kitchen and turned to leave again as soon as she saw the white-blonde head, leaning over the table, nursing a mug of blood.
"Stay a while, Red," he said without looking round. "Plenty of room for the both of us."
She hesitated before crossing the kitchen and bustled around making herself a cup of coffee. He declined to make small talk and she was almost grateful, until she realised, that left only one thing open for discussion.
"I couldn't sleep," he stated after a while. "I kept thinking about that boy. He could be a liability. The Mayor wants his brother dead, what's gonna stop him coming after him? And us?"
"The Mayor's been after us since Graduation," Willow answered, grateful that he hadn't mentioned their kiss. "I don't think having Andrew here is gonna put us at risk."
"Yeah," Spike shrugged. "I was only really saying that to fill the silence. Still, I didn't sleep last night," she sat down opposite him with her coffee and he pinned her gaze. She almost squirmed beneath its intensity, but prevented herself. She found herself almost enjoying his stare before his eyes rose and came to rest on her hair. "And I see you didn't sleep too well either."
She blushed and patted at her hair self-conciously, but his cool hand closed around her wrist.
"I like it," he said.
"Spike, I -"
"I'm not asking you for anything, Willow," he cut in. "It's up to you what you do about last night, but how about you think on it, before making your decision?"
"If you'd listen," she said, frowning at him, but her soft smile took the edge away. "I would have said that I needed time to think. But, thank you for that."
"Don't worry," he shrugged, "but I think you should know that I -"
"… God, woman!" the Irish voice snapped, as Doyle entered the kitchen, batting Anya's attentions away. "Will you listen to me? I'm fine! It's not the first vision; it won't be the last! And it was last night! I'm fine now! For God's sake, will you point those painkillers somewhere else!"
Spike chuckled and grinned at Doyle who was wrestling a pack of painkillers away from Anya, who was insisting he take them for the vision-headache.
"You're fighting a losing battle there, Doyle, mate," he pointed out.
"Don't I know it," Doyle answered, sinking down beside Spike and shaking his head at Anya who, having given up on the painkillers, was making him some coffee. "But I can help it if I bring out the nurturing side of women? Even if Anya's more crazy woman than nurturing," he muttered.
"I heard that, Alan Francis Doyle!" she snapped, placing his mug down a little too heavily and spilling some of the coffee.
"Aw, Anya," Doyle smiled. "You know I love you really."
"Huh," she said, sweeping out of the room.
Doyle shook his head and sipped his coffee, and then frowned at Willow's mussed hair and slight blush that flared whenever she glanced up at Spike.
"What's up, Rosenburg?" he asked. "You look like Spike's just tackled you across the kitchen."
The mansion was just beginning to come to life, but the Mayor's home had been awake for some time. Richard Wilkins III settled in the chair opposite the bed. He was in his human form and he picked his teeth with a toothpick, removing the results of the previous nights meals.
"One thing about being a snake," he said conversationally. "You have to wait until you get hands again before you can get the flesh out of your teeth."
The person in the bed didn't answer and the Mayor's cheerful grin faded. He leaned forward and was about to beg the occupant of the bed to wake up, as he had done every day for the past two years, when her eyes flew open and she sat bolt upright in bed.
The Mayor's smile grew and he rang the bell at the side of the bed.
"Welcome back, Faith," he said, taking her hand and smiling at her shocked and disorientated face. "I've got so much to tell you…"