Author's Note: You know how the summary says "W/S eventually"? Well, it
should say "W/S at some far off point" because it really doesn't happen
quickly. Partly due to the convoluted/complex/shoot-me-in-the-head-now
plot, but also because...see, I love W/S. Really. I eat it up. But when I
started writing this, I just couldn't stick them together after ten pages.
And I honestly tried. Very, very hard. It just didn't work. Sooooo, we get
to wind through the complex plot and get to a point when they *can* get
stuck together.
I just thought I'd make that clear, so that my fellow W/S lovers didn't check out each part and wonder where the heck the W/S is.
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Willow couldn't look at any of them the next day. The brief moments when she saw Angel, Spike or Dru, Willow lowered her eyes and left the room in a hurry, mumbling an excuse the first time but not bothering after that.
Angel ignored her reactions, acting like nothing had happened. Spike, on the other hand, seemed to be taking an inordinate amount of pleasure out of making snarky comments that made it impossible for her to pretend that what had happened the previous night hadn't actually happened.
Willow didn't think it was very fair of him to play that particular game when his victory was guaranteed. It wasn't even stealing candy from a baby; it was having the baby happily hand it over.
Her devoted efforts of distraction the previous night had gained her some headway into Dev's system. She'd gotten through the firewall, but had come up against a password protection system that required five strings of characters. Any decryption program would take weeks to break the security measure, and she was at an impasse.
Perhaps if she could bring herself to speak to Spike or Angel, she'd be able to get some ideas on the passwords. But so far, she hadn't had any luck with that endeavor.
The door to the stairs burst open, and Angel stalked into the room, anger just dripping from him. "We need your help. Now," he snapped, hurrying out again.
Willow blinked, then jumped to her feet and chased after him. He was at the bedroom door, staring in with a worried look on his face.
"Angel, what is it?" Willow asked.
"We're done waiting," he said tightly. "We need you to.anything. We need anything."
Her trunk was in the corner, and she went to it, pulling out the ingredients and materials she'd need for a simple healing spell. It was one that she'd performed on herself, as well as the Scoobies and even Spike on one occasion. Her arms full, she took a step, then paused. "I'll need to go in there," she said softly.
"Bloody hell, she is *not* coming in here," Spike shouted furiously. Willow heard footsteps, then he was standing next to Angel. He glared at Willow, both brows lowered, and his cheek ticking. "Do it from out there."
"Look," Willow said with a sigh, "I really don't want to go in there, and I wouldn't if I could help it. You've seen what I have to do to perform the healing spell. I need contact."
"I said no."
"Angel?" Willow ventured.
He nodded once, a jerky motion that had Willow's neck hurting sympathetically.
"Spike, turn out the lights in there. All of them," he ordered. Willow thought Spike would argue, but Angel grabbed his shirt front, told him again to do it, and Spike actually complied. "Willow, come here."
He was careful to keep his body in front of the door as she went to his side. "What kind of contact do you need?" he wanted to know.
"Any," she told him easily. "Holding her hand would work."
He nodded again, then told her to close her eyes. Once she had, he took her hand and led her into the bedroom, bringing her to a stop after only a step. She heard the door close, and then Angel said she could open her eyes.
The darkness was absolute. There were no windows in this room, and the small amount of light coming from under the door was only enough to be helpful if she didn't move.
"Spike, she hurts, she hurts so much and it won't stop," Dru cried out, sounding as though she was sobbing.
"Do something," Spike snarled, and she took a step back.
"I can't see," she reminded them all, and Angel took hold of her arm again, leading her further into the room. Her knees bumped against the bed and she stopped. Angel lifted one of her hands and moved it forward, until she was clutching cold skin that was wet with something she didn't want to think about.
She took a deep breath. "Okay, can you see what I'm holding clearly, Angel?"
"Yes."
His keen sight allowed him to work as her eyes, mixing the ingredients and touching them to her and Dev's foreheads, handing Willow the crystal to hang around her neck so that it touched her heart, and placing a matching crystal on Dev's chest,
When that was done, Willow recited the spell, and felt it reverse on her, as though it had been directed at a mirror. Her stomach clenched.
"Someone's done something," Willow murmured. "They've.blocked anything that might be cast on her. I'll break it and do the healing spell again."
She asked Angel to procure a few other items from her trunk, quickly closing her eyes so that the light from the living room wouldn't illuminate the figure on the bed. When Angel returned, he assisted her with casting the circle and handed her the small knife. She cut into her palm, placed her hand in Dev's again, and nodded in the direction she thought Angel was located. He fed her the words, which he read from the book she'd asked him to get. Willow recited them, felt the power building in her, and then shot it at Dev when it had culminated.
Willow heard herself screaming for an eternity before her knees gave out and her body shut down.
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Angel tried to get to Willow, but the circle prevented him from reaching her. It wasn't until she slumped to the floor, breaking the circle from the inside, that he was able to take her into his arms.
"Willow? Willow?" he called out, but she didn't hear. She was deadweight, but her pulse and breathing were normal. "Damn. Spike, get the door."
He carried Willow into the living room, settling her slight frame on the sofa. Spike and Dru had followed him, and he turned to them furiously. "What the hell happened?"
Spike slowly shook his head, his wide eyes on Willow. "No clue," he murmured.
"Dru?" Angel asked, pivoting his head to look at her. "What happened to Willow?"
"It returned to her," Dru whispered, her eyes still wet with tears, her lips opened in a wordless gasp. "Took the breath from her lungs with her scream, then stole her away into the night."
Spike cursed softly. "She probably tried to ram her way through whatever they did to Dev, but it reflected back."
"Is it permanent, Dru? Will she wake up?"
"Yes." Her hands fluttered back and forth. "Thoughts criss-crossing, like shoelaces on a boot."
Whatever had happened to Willow had scrambled her head for the time being. Their only hope was going to be unconscious until it ran its course. "Damn it," he snapped, clenching his fists.
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Spike was sitting with Willow several hours later when she finally stirred. He watched as her face pulled into a frown, and a groan issued from her throat. One small hand lifted only an inch before it fell back to position on her stomach. "Oh, god," she whispered, her eyes opening slowly.
"How are you feeling?" Spike asked quietly.
All other movement ceased as she turned her head in his direction. Spike noticed that her eyes were glazed, that she didn't recognize him. She blinked once, twice, then her face paled, her body convulsed, and it was too late for Spike to even try to get her to the bathroom, because she'd already been sick all over her chest and stomach.
She was shaking as he carried her into the bathroom and set her on the toilet, and too distraught to make even a token protest when he removed her shirt and tossed it into the bathroom garbage. After thinking about it, he left her bra on, even though the vomit had soaked it as well. He didn't think she'd remain calm if he tried to take it off. Instead, he wet down a washcloth and wiped the mess from her face and neck, rinsing it several times as he did so.
"Rinse your mouth, pet, and I'll get you clothing to change into, okay?" She sat there, adrift in the tiny bathroom and motionless, and Spike closed his eyes for a second. "Right, then. You're not concerned."
The bra joined the shirt. "Don't need the theatrics to get me to strip you, pet," he said absently as he wet the washcloth again. "But you women always have to have the drama, don't you? Always thought you above that shite, myself."
Another round with the washcloth, across her breasts this time. In other circumstances, he'd have made at least a comment about her nudity, probably even tried something. But this.she was as rigid as marble under his hands, a waxy and dead feeling to her that was less alive than a vampire.
He snorted as he tossed the soiled cloth into the sink. He knew this. He'd seen it, dealt with it, hundreds of times with Drusilla. Willow's teeth began chattering. Spike was on his haunches in front of her, and he raised his eyes to her face. Whatever she was seeing, it wasn't actually there. Her eyes were focused inwards, on something that had scared the living daylights out of her. Dru got that way sometimes, got lost in the chaotic thoughts that ran through her mind and couldn't be contained or understood. But somehow, he didn't think a good whipping would snap Willow away from wherever she was trapped.
"Yeah, you couldn't do this on Angel's shift, could you?" Spike took a towel from the rack behind him and wrapped it around her shoulders. Only when he put her hands on the edges and tightened her fingers around them did she keep the towel in place. "Where is he, you ask? Went with Dru to that sleazy mate of his for blood." He rolled his eyes and lifted her, standing her in front of the sink. She wouldn't stay upright of her own accord, so he braced her with an arm around her waist and filled the bathroom cup with water, then held it to her lips.
"Take a sip," he instructed. "You know, swish it around and such."
She didn't move, so he put the cup to her lips and tilted it until water dribbled into her mouth. Dutifully, she followed her instructions, swishing the water until he told her to spit it out.
"Not brushing your teeth for you," he said peevishly. "Not that much of a Nancy Boy. All right, then, up we go." He carried her to the living room, set her on the sofa again and retrieved a shirt from her suitcase. She cooperated nicely as he slipped it over her head and then maneuvered her arms through it. "Now, this'll be our secret, right?" he said sternly. "You tell anyone, and I'll deny it."
When he made a move to leave, a choked noise emanated from Willow's throat and her hands grabbed for him. "For crying out loud," he groaned, sitting next to her. "Don't you have a wubbie for this type of thing? What about a bear?" he added as an afterthought. "I thought most humans had something of the sort."
"D-d-d-o you?"
Spike slanted his eyes in her direction. "Pet, I'm an Evil Master Vampire," he drawled, rolling his eyes. "We're the *reason* people have wubbies."
She didn't laugh, but she did lean her head on his shoulder, which had Spike thinking she was getting worse, because--Evil Master Vampire? Cuddling? Willow was too smart to think the two went together. "Is it too much to ask to for a few days in a row where someone isn't a mess for some reason or other?" he grumbled, vexed beyond belief.
He kept talking about nothing in particular, a trick that worked sometimes on Dru when a whipping didn't. Pretty soon, Willow had slid down his shoulder, and his chest, until her head was pillowed on his thigh. Not that much of a Nancy Boy, he'd said? Well past it, it seemed.
He snagged the remote from the table next to the sofa, and turned on the television.
**
Willow woke up alone. She was in the living room, but not on one of the beds. The familiar black leather sofa met her eyes when they opened, and she sat up. Why was she there? She couldn't remember at first, but the details came. The healing spell, then attempting to break the shield-like barrier around Dev. Brief flashes of the bathroom, and a calming voice. Then waking up.
But that wasn't all she remembered. Her stomach churned and her breath came fast and hard, terror overcoming her. The walls were closing in on her, and she ran. Up the stairs, to the roof, because she had to scream or cry or hurl herself from the top of the building, or anything that would make her forget or have never known just how frightened Dev was.
She slammed the roof door open, sucking in huge gulps of air, falling to her hands and knees and rejoicing in the lack of confinement. She crawled to the waist-high wall, leaned against it and pulled her knees to her chest. Her head dropped down, and she sobbed until she was too exhausted to do so.
That's how Spike found her.
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They heard her run from the living room, and Angel immediately started to follow. But Spike stopped him with a hand on his chest, and shook his head.
"I'll go," he offered grimly. Angel merely stared at him, and Spike clenched his teeth. "Look, no offense, but you're too damn comforting."
"What the hell does that mean?" Angel snapped, pulling away.
"There is no time for soft words," Dru sang sadly, her eyes far away, "only firm hands."
"Yeah, what she said," Spike said immediately.
Angel pointed at him, his eyes hard. "Not literally, Spike, and I mean it."
A thousand snide comments wanted to be said, but Spike tamped them down and settled on nodding in agreement with Angel. Though he wondered why the hell Angel thought he'd go up to the roof and beat the shit out of Willow. He might as well just stake Dev here and now. Same end result.
"Idiot," he mumbled to himself as he climbed the stairs to the roof.
She was sitting on the ground, her back against the waist-high ledge, her knees up against her chest and her arms wrapped around her calves. He sat next to her and regarded her with critical eyes. She seemed to be in her right mind, just in shock.
"What's going on?"
"Tell me about Dev," Willow pleaded desperately, rocking back and forth.
"What? Why?" Spike asked in confusion.
"Terror," Willow choked. "She's wrapped in terror."
Spike doubled over, psychological pain manifesting itself by way of his stomach tightening beyond belief.
"Tell me about her. Tell me! I can't keep thinking of her feeling that way, I need to know something--anything--else besides the terror."
And this sentiment, Spike understood. For the past few days he'd been diving into his memories of the vampire he'd sired with Angel and Drusilla, focusing on images of her when she was whole and alive. Willow didn't have those memories, and for someone as sensitive as she was, experiencing Dev's fear would take over her mind.
"Dev," Spike began in a soft, somber voice, sitting up, "is almost beyond words. I don't even know where to bloody begin."
"What does she look like?" Willow asked quietly. "Describe her to me," she breathed, closing her eyes.
Spike's face softened at the desperation in her voice. "She's about your height," he recited gently. "Don't let that fool you though. She's got three powerful sires, and she's no slouch either." His lips quirked. "And she bloody well knows it. You think I'm arrogant? Hell, you should see the way Dev walks around, like the queen shit."
He pulled out his cigarettes and lit one, then rested more comfortable against the bricks. He stretched his legs out and crossed them at the ankles.
"Angel gives her a hard time about it," Spike snickered. "He's always all, 'you're just inviting attacks by being so cocky.' She can't be any other way though," he informed Willow. "It's part of my demon, so it's a part of hers."
He inhaled deeply on his cigarette then exhaled. "Got these big, blue eyes. I've always said you can tell exactly what kind of mood she's in by those eyes. When she's about to rip into you they get dark, almost navy blue. When she's tickled to death about some stupid thing or other, they're all sparkly and shit." He waved his hand negligently. "The walking dead skin color, is a given. What else? Oh, Her hair. Damn her and the hair dye," he said mournfully.
Willow chuckled rawly, and he noticed that she'd opened her eyes.
"Hey, I look better this way," Spike said indignantly, touching his dyed blond hair. "Dev looks like she melted a bloody crayon on her head. Her hair is blacker than sin." He curled his lips. "The insane chit dyed it purple, of all things. It's bloody unnatural!" he added self-righteously.
"Go on," Willow urged him.
"She laughs a lot," he said after a moment. "Loves to laugh, actually. Not that she's easygoing," he hastened to add. He smiled fondly. "Even with her soul she can be damned remorseless." His eyes met Willow's, and he tilted his head. "She likes kittens, too," he added incongruously, then felt the need to clarify that statement. "To play with, not to eat."
"I don't know what it was."
Spike blinked. "No idea?"
"Just that there's terror surrounding her," Willow whispered, and Spike saw her knuckles whiten as she tightened her grip on her calves. "I don't know where it's coming from, or why it's.enveloping her." She shook her head sadly. "But I'll figure something out. I won't let her stay like that, feeling like that. I won't!"
"She's tough," he told her again. "She'll deal until you come up with something." Where had his cigarette gone? Hm. He lit another one, and stayed Willow with a hand on her shoulder when she would have gotten up. "Stay put," he instructed. "That reverb from Dev knocked you out. Get yourself steady before you start charging around on yet another mission."
"Um, okay," Willow stammered.
Willow began fidgeting when Spike didn't say anything else. From the corner of his eye, he could see her glance quickly at him several times, and open her mouth once before snapping it shut again.
"What is it now?" he asked, knowing that he sounded as put-upon as he felt, and not giving a shit.
"You've been calling him Angel," she blurted out, her eyes still focused on the roof beneath her. "What's up with that?" She waved her hands anxiously. "And, please, feel free to leave out the details. Seriously. No details needed."
A nasty smirk pulled at his lips. "Come on, don't you want to know who licked where, who bit who, who fu--"
"Lalalalala, I can't hear you," Willow almost shouted, her hands clapped over her ears. "Not listening. Nope. Not a word."
Spike pulled one hand down and laughed. "You'd think that this wouldn't be so fun since it's so easy. But, no. Fun as hell."
She glared at him. "Oh, please," she snapped, anger making her eyes glitter like emeralds, making her words less cautious than usual. "Like I don't already know? You made the beast with three backs, filling each other with your naughty seeds, then cuddled like a bunch of ferrets for the rest of the night. Oh, how *thrilling*. Please, do tell all about the Scourge-y sexcapades, because I'm sure it's nothing that's ever been done before."
Spike howled. "Naughty seeds?" he gasped between laughter. "Ferrets?"
"Shut up," she snapped, blushing in mortification. Dear lord, she'd just talked to Spike like he was Xander. He was never going to let her live it down. When Spike continued to laugh uproariously, she buried her face in her hands. "Oh, God, just toss me off the building."
"Ferrets!?!? Bloody priceless."
He was still laughing when she stomped away.
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Willow knew she was still redder than she'd ever been when she entered the living room. But who could blame her? She'd just given Spike enough ammunition on her for about ten years, and all because she'd forgotten just who she'd been talking to.
Angel was in the process of slamming the phone down when she came in, cursing more than she'd ever heard him curse, and then rounding on her with preternatural speed.
"Where's Spike?" he demanded furiously.
"Roof," Willow told him, frowning. "What's going on?"
"Cordy had a vision of us being attacked and Dev getting taken away. We need to get out of here. Now. Pack all of your stuff, and anything else that might make it obvious someone besides me was here."
Angel went to the roof, and Willow was cleaning out the bathroom when Spike came down. "Me and Dru will take care of the bedroom," he called out. "You take care of everything else." He poked his head into the bathroom. "And I mean everything. Got it?"
She nodded and continued erasing their existence from the bathroom. "Where's Angel?"
"Getting transportation," he said, walking away.
An hour later, just before dawn, Angel returned. He made a sweep of the apartment and offices, his eyes raking over every inch of every room, and came back downstairs with a few items Willow had missed. Namely, notepads she'd used and on which he'd scribbled in pencil, revealing what she'd written, a stray sock of hers--and how had that gotten in the office?--and the desktop computer from Cordy's desk.
Drusilla was flittering about the apartment, her eyes wide and her hands tearing at her hair. Spike ushered her back into the bedroom, telling her to get Dev ready to go. Then he and Angel began carrying their things out, including the trash bags Willow had filled with the food from the kitchen. Food that Angel would not have on hand, considering that he'd spread the word on the street that the office was closed for two weeks. A well- deserved vacation, he'd told everyone. The blood was stored in coolers, and Willow had seen Spike take a look at it, then turn his eyes to Angel, who'd nodded tightly.
She refused to think about what that meant, even when Spike took off for half an hour and came back looking grimly satisfied.
They put the living room furniture back in its proper place, and Willow folded up the bedding and stored it in the bathroom cupboards. She was on some kind of autopilot, she realized, doing what they'd told her and not asking questions. There didn't seem to be time for them, and for the first time in Willow's life, she wasn't clamoring to ask. Lately, she never got the answers she wanted to hear.
"We're loaded," Spike said as he entered the living room from the stair well. "How are we doing this?"
Angel tossed a set of keys at Willow, and she caught them instinctively. "You two go to the van. Willow's going to have to drive for now. Dru and I will bring Dev up."
"What about your car?" Willow asked hesitantly, clutching the keys in her hand. "And Spike's?"
"I hid them," Angel said tersely. "Go."
Willow grabbed her small suitcase, the only thing left to take with them, and followed Spike to the garage. A hulking white van was parked to their left, the back and side doors open. A cargo van, actually. The only real seats were the two in front. On the floor in the back were blankets, presumably for Dev. The rest of the stuff they were bringing with them was stashed around the bed.
Spike took the suitcase from her and tossed it carelessly in the back. "Right, can you drive this?" he asked as he lit a cigarette and glared at the van.
Willow considered it. The back was separated from the front with a divider, which meant she'd have to rely solely on the side view mirrors to navigate. And she also had a sneaking suspicion that it was going to beep when she put it into reverse. The correct answer was, a strong maybe. But looking at Spike's tense and twitching features, she knew he didn't want to hear that.
"Yeah, I'll be fine."
His mouth opened and closed several times before he shoved his cigarette between his lips and cursed. He stomped over to her, removed the cigarette again, and placed both hands on her shoulders.
"You didn't sign up for this, and I don't really care that you have to deal with it," he said clearly. Willow rolled her eyes. "We can't just let you out of it now, you hear?" She nodded, careful not to be too emphatic in case his cigarette singed her hair. "So, from this point on, suck it up. No more of these hysterics and shit. I don't give a bloody hell what's going on, you keep yourself together."
He shook her forcefully and narrowed his eyes. Willow swallowed as she faced down William the Bloody. "It's going to get worse, isn't it?" she asked in a small voice.
Spike closed his eyes. "My opinion? It's been a walk in the bleedin' park so far." His lids raised, and he tilted his head to the side. "They're coming." The hands on her shoulders turned her around and pushed her none- too-gently towards the driver's side door. "In you go."
Willow climbed in and turned on the ignition. The radio blared to life, Spanish music that was just too jaunty and full of movement for her current mood. She punched the "off" button with more force than necessary then adjusted her mirrors. She heard the vampires moving in the back, loading Dev in. Drusilla was humming softly, murmuring quiet words that Willow thought were directed at her unconscious childe, who was probably not happy about being hauled around.
She jumped when someone knocked on her window, saw Angel, and lowered it. "East," he said before walking round the back of the van.
There were a pair of sunglasses sat on the passenger seat, and she slipped them on. When Spike called out a few minutes later that they were ready, she put the car in drive and they started out.
As the bright morning sun made her squint even with the sunglasses on, Willow wondered when she'd be able to rest, just put her guard down and not have to worry about anymore unpleasant surprises.
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After taking time at a red light to consult a road map she'd found tucked between the front seats, Willow had driven East. It had been easy. A brief trip on I-10, then over to I-15 and then they'd been on I-40 and Willow was able to put the map away and just drive, stopping for food and bathrooms when necessary.
When dusk came, they were in Santa Fe. Willow was grateful when Angel told her to find a hotel for them to stay at. A few minutes later, she saw the Motel 6 and pulled off of I-25.
After a few wrong turns, she finally pulled the van to a stop and shut off the engine. Her eyes were burning and her head was pounding. Angel once again appeared at her window, this time with a wad of cash and instructions to get them two adjoining rooms. He was gone almost as quickly as he'd appeared, and Willow curled her lip in useless frustration.
"Yeah, sure, just call me Renfield," she muttered sarcastically as she practically fell out of the van.
A middle-aged woman was on duty in the fluorescent lobby. Willow made her way to the counter, twitching in time with a flickered bulb above her head. "I need two rooms, please. Adjoining. Can I get adjoining?" she asked tiredly.
"You sure can, dear," the woman replied brightly, consulting her computer and typing for a moment. "First or second floor?"
Blinking, Willow forced her brain to focus. "First," she said slowly, hesitantly. Then she nodded and repeated it more firmly. "Round the back, if you can manage it. Away from the highway," she added when the woman frowned in confusion.
Five minutes later she was holding two card keys in her hand. They had smoking rooms, which would appease Spike, and several cable channels, which she was looking forward to losing herself in until the woman continued her spiel of amenities.
".and of course we have data ports in all the rooms."
"Thanks," Willow said weakly, backing out of the lobby.
She pulled the van around where the woman had told her and exited it once again. Walking to the back doors, she knocked briefly and they opened several inches, one of Spike's blue eyes peering out at her. She handed him a card key and walked away without offering to help, because she really didn't want to and knew that they wouldn't let her.
How much longer that was going to last, she didn't know. Soon, they were going to stop trying to protect her from the sight of Dev, not because they wanted to twist her up a little bit more, but because it would become inconvenient. And as Spike had said, she was going to have to be able to suck it up. But not right then, when she was exhausted and confused and still trying to process all that had happened since the healing spell.
She let herself into the hotel room, hoping Angel would think to bring her stuff in, and turned the lights on. The room was small, but it had the two most beautiful pieces of furniture in it: real life beds. And they were big, too. Groaning hugely, Willow quickly moved past them and entered the small bathroom. She washed her faced and was drying it with a towel when a knock sounded.
She was almost at the main door before she realized it was coming from the adjoining door. Changing direction, she released the bolt and opened the door. Spike was there, the door on his side open as well. Willow stepped aside and let him in, noticing as she did so that he was holding her suitcase and laptop.
"Do you need that damned monstrosity?" he asked grumpily as he tossed the laptop on the bed.
"The what? Oh, Cordy's computer?" Spike nodded and Willow shook her head. "No, I pulled everything I needed from it. Angel didn't need to bring it."
"Good, then we'll bloody toss the damned thing," he mumbled, running a hand through his hair. "Angel's staying in here with you."
Willow's eyes widened. "Uh, why? I mean, aren't there two beds in your room?"
"Yes, there are, but he doesn't think it's a good idea for you to be in here alone and unprotected," Spike snorted. He raised a cynical eyebrow. "Maybe a stake pressed against his chest would convince him, eh?"
Blushing, Willow shrugged. "Yeah, uh, I'm not going to apologize for doing that," she said awkwardly.
"I'd lose the small grain of respect I have for you if you apologize," Spike said absently. "Okay, so, we're only going to be here for a few hours before we find someplace more permanent, so make the most of it."
Willow nodded, and then Spike left, closing both adjoining doors. Grabbing the laptop, Willow set it up at the desk and went to work. She wasn't very successful, as her mind kept racing with the events of the past week. Sighing, she leaned back and pressed her hand to her forehead. "Stop it, brain. I mean it. Focus, darn it!"
And it did, so suddenly and abruptly that Willow sat up immediately and stared at the screen in front of her. "No," she breathed, her fingers flying over the keyboard. "It can't be that easy. In fact, I'm going to have to hurt myself if it is, because I'm an idiot."
She pulled up the document from her talk with Angel and Spike, her first day in L.A., and scrolled to the bottom. She stared at the paragraph, toggled to the encryption screen of Dev's system, and cautiously typed in the words that Dev had said to Spike when she'd briefly woken up.
Branch.*tab*.leaves.*tab*.root.*tab*.crying.*tab*.tree.
And she was in.
"You're supposed to be in bed."
Willow shrieked and pressed a hand against her racing heart. "God, Angel, don't *do* that," she gasped, staring at him.
He shrugged an apology and took off his coat. "I told Spike to tell you to go to bed."
Trust Spike not to relay the message exactly as it had been given. Willow rolled her eyes, then bounded from the computer and yanked on Angel's arm. "I got into Dev's system, Angel!" she told him excitedly. "I'm in."
"How?" he asked urgently. "I thought--"
"She gave us the passwords," Willow interrupted, pulling him to the desk. "When she woke up. I haven't had a chance to look around yet, but I'm in."
Angel was leaning above her as she sat at the desk, and she felt his eyes on her. Turning her head, she saw the flat look in them. "Find what we need," he told her quietly.
"I will," she promised in kind, turning back to the screen.
An hour later, she blinked and looked around the room. Angel was lying on his back on one of the beds, hands folded under his head, eyes on the ceiling. "Angel?"
"What?"
Willow sighed and reached up to massage her aching shoulders. "The Analects," she began. "Dev translated most of it and stored it on her system, but none of it makes sense. It's like."
He rolled his head and looked at her. "They're fragments," Angel supplied for her. "Bits and pieces meant to lead the reader to the books that contain the prophecies."
"So not helpful," Willow said, frowning.
"She wouldn't have just translated the Analects and left it at that," Angel said eventually. "Keep looking."
Willow did. What she found was a complex database pertaining to the Analects, but there seemed to be no point of entry from which to access anything. Half the tables were linked from an FTP site, while the other half resided on Dev's hard drive. On first glance, it appeared to make no sense whatsoever. But as Willow studied the tables and reports, she began to see one. Dev had built an entire relational database for the Analects.
Clicking here and there, Willow saw how it all came together. Each translated portion of the Analects coincided to several other tables, which included translations and transcripts of the texts the Analects had lead her to. From there, Willow found another table in which Dev had written out in plain English, what it all meant. For those events that had already passed, there was a description of what exactly had happened. For those that had yet to occur, Dev had done her best to hypothesize everything that would happen, including dates, times, locations and parties involved.
The only problem was, Willow couldn't immediately see how they were joined and didn't know how to match up the tables properly. Dev was apparently a very careful vampire. Willow had all of the tables open and was analyzing them when the adjoining door flew open.
"Cheerleader called," Spike snarled. "We've got to move."
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Willow dropped the keys off in the office, explaining that she'd changed her mind about staying the night, and hurried out to the van. Angel was behind the wheel, with Spike, Dev and Drusilla in the back. Willow climbed into the passenger seat, and Angel took off without a word.
She slept somewhat fitfully, waking only when Angel called her name and told her to take over. Willow glanced out the window and saw that they were in a rest area, and that dawn was fast approaching. Angel handed her a cup of coffee, and she took it before exiting the van and walking around to the driver's seat.
"Where are we?" she asked groggily.
"Not sure," Angel said tiredly. "But we're going to Wichita."
"Why?"
"Why not?" he replied tightly. "Just follow the signs"
Getting behind the wheel, Willow started the van and pulled out the rest stop onto I-40. She sipped her coffee and adjusted the hat on her head.
She wondered what they were going to do. Neither of Cordy's visions had provided any information about who was after them, or how they were tracking them. All she had seen were the five of them getting attacked, first in L.A. and then in Santa Fe. Until they figured out how the bad guys were finding them, they were going to have to stay on the move. It was a vicious circle, that, because staying on the move meant they didn't have time to figure it out.
She wished that they'd made better use out of the time they'd had in Los Angeles.
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They only had seven hours in Wichita before Cordy called Angel's cell phone again. Spike tensed when the small phone chirped, then resigned himself to the fact that they were once again only a few steps ahead of their pursuers.
He went into the room Willow was in, and found her sleeping at the desk, her face pressed against the keyboard of the laptop. He was reluctant to wake her, seeing as how she'd driven most of the day, with barely any sleep the previous night. Spike was going to be driving the first leg of their next trip, but she'd have to take over yet again once dawn was upon them.
He didn't fancy their chances at continuing safely if she was a blink away from falling asleep at the wheel. That decided, he lifted her head from the computer and unhooked the machine from the wall. He packed it in the padded case and took it, along with her suitcase, to the van.
Angel looked at him curiously. "Where's Willow?"
"Fell asleep," Spike said as he put her belongings in the van, behind Dev's head. "I'll bring her out and put in the front. She'll have to take over soon," he explained, looking up at the sky.
Looking back at Angel, he saw an unreadable expression on the vampire's face. Then it was gone, as the frustration they were all feeling returned to Angel's features. "I'll turn the keys in. Get Dru and Willow and meet me around front."
Spike carried Willow out to the van, propping her in the passenger seat and then curling the seatbelt around her malleable form, before returning to his room for Dru. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed, her eyes watching him with no small amount of fear.
"They won't give up," she whispered, tears filling her dark eyes. "They'll come and come and come, and we can't run fast enough or far enough. They want her, need her, and they won't let her go."
Spike sat next to her and pulled her into his arms. "We'll figure it out, pet," he told her gently, even though he wasn't at all sure that they would. "We won't let them get her."
"It's not just our Devil, Spike," Drusilla cried harshly. "They'll want *her* too, and they'll get her even if it's not the way they mean to. She'll be turned inside out, until her organs glisten and weep wherever she goes. You'll think it a thing of great beauty, my darling Spike."
Spike stilled, and Drusilla turned in his arms. Her hands snaked up to his face, gripping it tightly. "And it *will* be," Dru whispered, her mouth inches from his. "As beautiful as anything we've ever done, luv. Spectacular like our most favorite dreams, and our former nightmares." She paused, and Spike blinked slowly as her eyes ran across his features and her hands caressed his cheeks. "And they will win," she said flatly, fire blazing in the depths of her brown eyes.
"Let's go!" Spike heard Angel hiss.
He looked away from Drusilla's hypnotic gaze and saw Angel standing at the door, fury written on every inch of his body.
Somewhat dazed, Spike led Dru from the room then handed her off to Angel at the back of the van. Taking the keys from Angel, Spike got behind the wheel, his troubled gaze touching on Willow as he started the engine.
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Several hours later, Spike watched her wake suddenly, her eyes flinging open and staring out with panic at the latest rest stop they'd arrived at. He even heard her heart race frantically for a long while before she blinked and shook her head.
"I need food," she said simply, her voice several octaves lower than usual. "And I need to change clothes."
She went into a fast food restaurant to take care of both those things. Spike thought she'd be in the bathroom for a while, seeing as how she hadn't had any time to deal with things in her usual way, but was surprised to see her emerge from the restaurant within minutes, a bag of food in one hand, and her soiled clothes in another.
"Where to?"
He didn't want to feel sorry for her, but the empty eyes and toneless words had him doing so anyway. She was going to have one huge breakdown when this was over. If it ever was.
"Madison," he answered, studying her waxen features. "We'll restock on blood there and move on."
She nodded quickly and started to move away. Spike's hand on her shoulder stopped her, and she looked up at him blankly. He didn't know what to say to her, and so he said nothing. She frowned, then pulled away and got into the front of the van.
Sighing, Spike got into the back and pulled the door closed. Dev was lying on the blankets they'd set up, Drusilla's sleeping form wrapped around her. Angel was sitting at their feet, and he looked up as Spike sat opposite him.
"How's she holding up?" he asked, his eyes flickering to the front.
"Not bloody well," Spike answered honestly. "Being the good little soldier, though."
"I talked to Wesley," Angel told him. "He's going to do some research and see if he can find out how we're being followed. Figures since we haven't used a credit card, they're not using conventional means."
Spike read between the lines, and Angel's averted face. "You don't think he'll find out, do you?"
A long pause, then, "No. There are too many ways they could be doing it, and we don't have enough information to recognize the method they're using."
Spike grunted and stretched his legs out. "Have I mentioned recently how bloody maddening this all is?" he groused.
"Once or twice."
Was that a bit of amusement? Yeah, it was. Good. Spike had never been of the opinion that having the odds against him meant he should forget the simple pleasures, and he thought Angel could do with following his lead.
"Ever imagine us like this again?" Spike asked, waving his arm vaguely. "Working together, on the run. It's like old times."
Just when he'd given up hope of a response, Angel's soft voice broke the silence. "Yeah, it is. Except, it was normally your irresponsibility that had us on the run."
"Huh, what can I say," Spike laughed. "I was a handful. What's that human saying? May you be cursed with children just like you?"
"Something like that," Angel agreed, chuckling. "But humans grow up, and you still haven't."
"Yeah, well."
Spike left it at that, not wanting to get onto that topic of conversation, despite their arrangement. Fact of it was, he'd noticed the changes in himself, even if he didn't let them show. He'd thought, at first, it was because he was on his own for the first time since he'd been turned. But after a while, he hadn't been convinced of that. After getting the damned chip out of his head, he'd headed out of Sunnydale, took over as Master in San Francisco, and found that it hadn't brought him nearly as much pleasure as it had in the past.
Which had led to a three-week period in which he'd pondered vampire society. Maybe the Sunnydale crew thought the world was crawling with old ones, but that wasn't the case. It was just that they came into contact with the old ones, who were drawn to the Hellmouth for one reason or another.
Truth was, it was rare that vampires lived to his, Dru or Angel's age. Darwin's theory seemed to be more amplified when it came to vampires than it did to humans. Probably because of their animalistic natures. Fledgling vampires were like newborn beasts, thinking of nothing but their need to feed, their need to be evil. They weren't capable of using their brains right away, and that got them killed. In Sunnydale, it was at the Slayer's hands, but elsewhere it was because of other vampires or demons. Weakness was preyed upon, and the brainless twits were weak to the extreme. Only the smart ones lived past the first decade or so. Survival of the fittest, and all that rot, louder and clearer than in any other species.
Spike had been privileged in that his sire hadn't just turned him and moved on. No, Drusilla had kept him close, her and the others teaching him, mopping up his messes for him, and protecting him from himself despite Darla's protests. Angelus had tried to teach him to focus his energy, but there hadn't been enough time to do it properly. He'd been shuffled offstage thanks to the Gypsy curse, and then his lessons had changed, so subtly that Spike hadn't even noticed the difference at the time.
Still, Spike hadn't forgotten what Angelus had tried to instill in him, and had actually begun applying it later on, when it had just been him and Dru. Because, in all honesty, Drusilla's mind didn't often let her think too much beyond the here and now and what she wanted, and someone had to think of all that could happen and prepare for it. Which was what Spike had done, but the enormity of what Angelus hadn't been able to teach him had been driven home, because he never could be more than a few steps ahead of everything. Hence Prague, and the Feast of St. Vigilus, and every other plan that had failed supremely.
And what all of this meant was that he was completely unprepared for where he now found himself, which was in a place well past fledgling lustfulness but not quite at an ancient's need to reshape the world into a living, breathing Hell. He thought it might actually be a crossroads, where he either took the path that the Master had, or did something else. Thing was, he didn't *know* what the other option was since, like the Slayer, the only path he'd seen played out had been the Hell on earth one.
He'd put it from his mind and left San Francisco, heading back to Sunnydale to do something he did well. Kill a Slayer. Only, that hadn't turned out the way he'd thought it would, had it? With his unsure state of mind, he'd reverted back to type, forgetting everything he'd learned. And he'd paid for it, too. Forced to be the Scoobies' pet vampire. Which actually suited him fine for the moment--though he'd take a holy water bath before admitting that to anyone. It gave him much needed down time to work out the shit in his head.
Angel was watching him. Spike could see his eyes focused on him even in the darkness that surrounded them. Considering. Thoughtful. Curious. Angel would understand what he was going through, he knew. Still didn't mean he wanted to get *that* chummy with him, especially since Angel would impart Poofy triteness instead of Angelus guidance. Besides, Spike had to hold some cards to his chest since the truce wouldn't last forever.
He ignored Angel, and continued to do so until Willow stopped the van at a hotel in Madison. It was almost a routine, now. She checked them in, drove them to their rooms, then went inside to set up shop. Since the sun hadn't yet set, she left them in the van. They'd follow as soon as dusk fell, which Spike's gut told him was in forty-five minutes.
Drusilla woke up when they stopped. Surprisingly, she was quieter than normal, as though someone had lowered her volume. She crawled over Dev, taking care not to brush against the injured vampire, and pressed herself against Angel. One arm stretched in Spike's direction, and he took the proffered hand, letting her pull him to her side.
Was it really so bad to enjoy this pretense, to fit himself next to these two and forget that almost a century had passed? Probably. Like a great many other things, Spike knew he'd regret it all later and stubbornly pushed that thought from his head.
Their childe had been tortured so viciously that Spike, who had earned his nickname honestly, had been horrified when he'd set eyes on her. They were now on the run from unknown people, who seemed to have the resources and abilities to track them and kill them (if the cheerleader's visions were to be believed), and the icing on the cake? Willow.
The funny thing about it being Willow with them was that she was possibly the best and worst human to have along. Best because, as Spike had realized in Giles' living room one evening when a mere thought of hers had slammed him against a wall and kept him there, she had the power they needed. Not to mention the brains, and the sappy side that had made her agree to help them simply because Angel had asked nicely.
She was also an almost tolerable human at times. Not all the time, mind, but sometimes. After all, she was the only one of the Slayer's people who had never tried to pretend that he wasn't there under duress, or that he wasn't dangerous. Giles tended to try to chat amicably with him, Buffy ordered him around like he was her willing slave, and Xander--feeling safe, no doubt, from retribution--took every opportunity to insult him. Willow, however, virtually ignored him. On the occasions when there was no choice but for them to speak, she was always polite but wary, and kept the chat brief. Which was how Spike thought it should be, really.
But she was also the worst human possible for them to have hauled into the middle of this because she was the Slayer's best friend. Angel thought Buffy would let it slide, since it had been Angel's idea. Spike rather thought that she would let Angel's part slide, but not Spike's. He hadn't been lying to Wesley the Wanker: there was only a slim chance the bitch wouldn't dust him. Even he had learned the two most important facts about fighting the current Slayer. First, the more brassed off she was, the less chance he had of surviving an encounter with her. Second, she got the most brassed off when her friends had been hurt.
What would happen when they returned would depend on Willow, which was why he'd been on semi-good behavior since they'd left her dorm.
Angel shifted, reaching for the door, and Spike realized that the sun had set. Clenching his jaw, he began unloading the van.
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I just thought I'd make that clear, so that my fellow W/S lovers didn't check out each part and wonder where the heck the W/S is.
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Willow couldn't look at any of them the next day. The brief moments when she saw Angel, Spike or Dru, Willow lowered her eyes and left the room in a hurry, mumbling an excuse the first time but not bothering after that.
Angel ignored her reactions, acting like nothing had happened. Spike, on the other hand, seemed to be taking an inordinate amount of pleasure out of making snarky comments that made it impossible for her to pretend that what had happened the previous night hadn't actually happened.
Willow didn't think it was very fair of him to play that particular game when his victory was guaranteed. It wasn't even stealing candy from a baby; it was having the baby happily hand it over.
Her devoted efforts of distraction the previous night had gained her some headway into Dev's system. She'd gotten through the firewall, but had come up against a password protection system that required five strings of characters. Any decryption program would take weeks to break the security measure, and she was at an impasse.
Perhaps if she could bring herself to speak to Spike or Angel, she'd be able to get some ideas on the passwords. But so far, she hadn't had any luck with that endeavor.
The door to the stairs burst open, and Angel stalked into the room, anger just dripping from him. "We need your help. Now," he snapped, hurrying out again.
Willow blinked, then jumped to her feet and chased after him. He was at the bedroom door, staring in with a worried look on his face.
"Angel, what is it?" Willow asked.
"We're done waiting," he said tightly. "We need you to.anything. We need anything."
Her trunk was in the corner, and she went to it, pulling out the ingredients and materials she'd need for a simple healing spell. It was one that she'd performed on herself, as well as the Scoobies and even Spike on one occasion. Her arms full, she took a step, then paused. "I'll need to go in there," she said softly.
"Bloody hell, she is *not* coming in here," Spike shouted furiously. Willow heard footsteps, then he was standing next to Angel. He glared at Willow, both brows lowered, and his cheek ticking. "Do it from out there."
"Look," Willow said with a sigh, "I really don't want to go in there, and I wouldn't if I could help it. You've seen what I have to do to perform the healing spell. I need contact."
"I said no."
"Angel?" Willow ventured.
He nodded once, a jerky motion that had Willow's neck hurting sympathetically.
"Spike, turn out the lights in there. All of them," he ordered. Willow thought Spike would argue, but Angel grabbed his shirt front, told him again to do it, and Spike actually complied. "Willow, come here."
He was careful to keep his body in front of the door as she went to his side. "What kind of contact do you need?" he wanted to know.
"Any," she told him easily. "Holding her hand would work."
He nodded again, then told her to close her eyes. Once she had, he took her hand and led her into the bedroom, bringing her to a stop after only a step. She heard the door close, and then Angel said she could open her eyes.
The darkness was absolute. There were no windows in this room, and the small amount of light coming from under the door was only enough to be helpful if she didn't move.
"Spike, she hurts, she hurts so much and it won't stop," Dru cried out, sounding as though she was sobbing.
"Do something," Spike snarled, and she took a step back.
"I can't see," she reminded them all, and Angel took hold of her arm again, leading her further into the room. Her knees bumped against the bed and she stopped. Angel lifted one of her hands and moved it forward, until she was clutching cold skin that was wet with something she didn't want to think about.
She took a deep breath. "Okay, can you see what I'm holding clearly, Angel?"
"Yes."
His keen sight allowed him to work as her eyes, mixing the ingredients and touching them to her and Dev's foreheads, handing Willow the crystal to hang around her neck so that it touched her heart, and placing a matching crystal on Dev's chest,
When that was done, Willow recited the spell, and felt it reverse on her, as though it had been directed at a mirror. Her stomach clenched.
"Someone's done something," Willow murmured. "They've.blocked anything that might be cast on her. I'll break it and do the healing spell again."
She asked Angel to procure a few other items from her trunk, quickly closing her eyes so that the light from the living room wouldn't illuminate the figure on the bed. When Angel returned, he assisted her with casting the circle and handed her the small knife. She cut into her palm, placed her hand in Dev's again, and nodded in the direction she thought Angel was located. He fed her the words, which he read from the book she'd asked him to get. Willow recited them, felt the power building in her, and then shot it at Dev when it had culminated.
Willow heard herself screaming for an eternity before her knees gave out and her body shut down.
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Angel tried to get to Willow, but the circle prevented him from reaching her. It wasn't until she slumped to the floor, breaking the circle from the inside, that he was able to take her into his arms.
"Willow? Willow?" he called out, but she didn't hear. She was deadweight, but her pulse and breathing were normal. "Damn. Spike, get the door."
He carried Willow into the living room, settling her slight frame on the sofa. Spike and Dru had followed him, and he turned to them furiously. "What the hell happened?"
Spike slowly shook his head, his wide eyes on Willow. "No clue," he murmured.
"Dru?" Angel asked, pivoting his head to look at her. "What happened to Willow?"
"It returned to her," Dru whispered, her eyes still wet with tears, her lips opened in a wordless gasp. "Took the breath from her lungs with her scream, then stole her away into the night."
Spike cursed softly. "She probably tried to ram her way through whatever they did to Dev, but it reflected back."
"Is it permanent, Dru? Will she wake up?"
"Yes." Her hands fluttered back and forth. "Thoughts criss-crossing, like shoelaces on a boot."
Whatever had happened to Willow had scrambled her head for the time being. Their only hope was going to be unconscious until it ran its course. "Damn it," he snapped, clenching his fists.
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Spike was sitting with Willow several hours later when she finally stirred. He watched as her face pulled into a frown, and a groan issued from her throat. One small hand lifted only an inch before it fell back to position on her stomach. "Oh, god," she whispered, her eyes opening slowly.
"How are you feeling?" Spike asked quietly.
All other movement ceased as she turned her head in his direction. Spike noticed that her eyes were glazed, that she didn't recognize him. She blinked once, twice, then her face paled, her body convulsed, and it was too late for Spike to even try to get her to the bathroom, because she'd already been sick all over her chest and stomach.
She was shaking as he carried her into the bathroom and set her on the toilet, and too distraught to make even a token protest when he removed her shirt and tossed it into the bathroom garbage. After thinking about it, he left her bra on, even though the vomit had soaked it as well. He didn't think she'd remain calm if he tried to take it off. Instead, he wet down a washcloth and wiped the mess from her face and neck, rinsing it several times as he did so.
"Rinse your mouth, pet, and I'll get you clothing to change into, okay?" She sat there, adrift in the tiny bathroom and motionless, and Spike closed his eyes for a second. "Right, then. You're not concerned."
The bra joined the shirt. "Don't need the theatrics to get me to strip you, pet," he said absently as he wet the washcloth again. "But you women always have to have the drama, don't you? Always thought you above that shite, myself."
Another round with the washcloth, across her breasts this time. In other circumstances, he'd have made at least a comment about her nudity, probably even tried something. But this.she was as rigid as marble under his hands, a waxy and dead feeling to her that was less alive than a vampire.
He snorted as he tossed the soiled cloth into the sink. He knew this. He'd seen it, dealt with it, hundreds of times with Drusilla. Willow's teeth began chattering. Spike was on his haunches in front of her, and he raised his eyes to her face. Whatever she was seeing, it wasn't actually there. Her eyes were focused inwards, on something that had scared the living daylights out of her. Dru got that way sometimes, got lost in the chaotic thoughts that ran through her mind and couldn't be contained or understood. But somehow, he didn't think a good whipping would snap Willow away from wherever she was trapped.
"Yeah, you couldn't do this on Angel's shift, could you?" Spike took a towel from the rack behind him and wrapped it around her shoulders. Only when he put her hands on the edges and tightened her fingers around them did she keep the towel in place. "Where is he, you ask? Went with Dru to that sleazy mate of his for blood." He rolled his eyes and lifted her, standing her in front of the sink. She wouldn't stay upright of her own accord, so he braced her with an arm around her waist and filled the bathroom cup with water, then held it to her lips.
"Take a sip," he instructed. "You know, swish it around and such."
She didn't move, so he put the cup to her lips and tilted it until water dribbled into her mouth. Dutifully, she followed her instructions, swishing the water until he told her to spit it out.
"Not brushing your teeth for you," he said peevishly. "Not that much of a Nancy Boy. All right, then, up we go." He carried her to the living room, set her on the sofa again and retrieved a shirt from her suitcase. She cooperated nicely as he slipped it over her head and then maneuvered her arms through it. "Now, this'll be our secret, right?" he said sternly. "You tell anyone, and I'll deny it."
When he made a move to leave, a choked noise emanated from Willow's throat and her hands grabbed for him. "For crying out loud," he groaned, sitting next to her. "Don't you have a wubbie for this type of thing? What about a bear?" he added as an afterthought. "I thought most humans had something of the sort."
"D-d-d-o you?"
Spike slanted his eyes in her direction. "Pet, I'm an Evil Master Vampire," he drawled, rolling his eyes. "We're the *reason* people have wubbies."
She didn't laugh, but she did lean her head on his shoulder, which had Spike thinking she was getting worse, because--Evil Master Vampire? Cuddling? Willow was too smart to think the two went together. "Is it too much to ask to for a few days in a row where someone isn't a mess for some reason or other?" he grumbled, vexed beyond belief.
He kept talking about nothing in particular, a trick that worked sometimes on Dru when a whipping didn't. Pretty soon, Willow had slid down his shoulder, and his chest, until her head was pillowed on his thigh. Not that much of a Nancy Boy, he'd said? Well past it, it seemed.
He snagged the remote from the table next to the sofa, and turned on the television.
**
Willow woke up alone. She was in the living room, but not on one of the beds. The familiar black leather sofa met her eyes when they opened, and she sat up. Why was she there? She couldn't remember at first, but the details came. The healing spell, then attempting to break the shield-like barrier around Dev. Brief flashes of the bathroom, and a calming voice. Then waking up.
But that wasn't all she remembered. Her stomach churned and her breath came fast and hard, terror overcoming her. The walls were closing in on her, and she ran. Up the stairs, to the roof, because she had to scream or cry or hurl herself from the top of the building, or anything that would make her forget or have never known just how frightened Dev was.
She slammed the roof door open, sucking in huge gulps of air, falling to her hands and knees and rejoicing in the lack of confinement. She crawled to the waist-high wall, leaned against it and pulled her knees to her chest. Her head dropped down, and she sobbed until she was too exhausted to do so.
That's how Spike found her.
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They heard her run from the living room, and Angel immediately started to follow. But Spike stopped him with a hand on his chest, and shook his head.
"I'll go," he offered grimly. Angel merely stared at him, and Spike clenched his teeth. "Look, no offense, but you're too damn comforting."
"What the hell does that mean?" Angel snapped, pulling away.
"There is no time for soft words," Dru sang sadly, her eyes far away, "only firm hands."
"Yeah, what she said," Spike said immediately.
Angel pointed at him, his eyes hard. "Not literally, Spike, and I mean it."
A thousand snide comments wanted to be said, but Spike tamped them down and settled on nodding in agreement with Angel. Though he wondered why the hell Angel thought he'd go up to the roof and beat the shit out of Willow. He might as well just stake Dev here and now. Same end result.
"Idiot," he mumbled to himself as he climbed the stairs to the roof.
She was sitting on the ground, her back against the waist-high ledge, her knees up against her chest and her arms wrapped around her calves. He sat next to her and regarded her with critical eyes. She seemed to be in her right mind, just in shock.
"What's going on?"
"Tell me about Dev," Willow pleaded desperately, rocking back and forth.
"What? Why?" Spike asked in confusion.
"Terror," Willow choked. "She's wrapped in terror."
Spike doubled over, psychological pain manifesting itself by way of his stomach tightening beyond belief.
"Tell me about her. Tell me! I can't keep thinking of her feeling that way, I need to know something--anything--else besides the terror."
And this sentiment, Spike understood. For the past few days he'd been diving into his memories of the vampire he'd sired with Angel and Drusilla, focusing on images of her when she was whole and alive. Willow didn't have those memories, and for someone as sensitive as she was, experiencing Dev's fear would take over her mind.
"Dev," Spike began in a soft, somber voice, sitting up, "is almost beyond words. I don't even know where to bloody begin."
"What does she look like?" Willow asked quietly. "Describe her to me," she breathed, closing her eyes.
Spike's face softened at the desperation in her voice. "She's about your height," he recited gently. "Don't let that fool you though. She's got three powerful sires, and she's no slouch either." His lips quirked. "And she bloody well knows it. You think I'm arrogant? Hell, you should see the way Dev walks around, like the queen shit."
He pulled out his cigarettes and lit one, then rested more comfortable against the bricks. He stretched his legs out and crossed them at the ankles.
"Angel gives her a hard time about it," Spike snickered. "He's always all, 'you're just inviting attacks by being so cocky.' She can't be any other way though," he informed Willow. "It's part of my demon, so it's a part of hers."
He inhaled deeply on his cigarette then exhaled. "Got these big, blue eyes. I've always said you can tell exactly what kind of mood she's in by those eyes. When she's about to rip into you they get dark, almost navy blue. When she's tickled to death about some stupid thing or other, they're all sparkly and shit." He waved his hand negligently. "The walking dead skin color, is a given. What else? Oh, Her hair. Damn her and the hair dye," he said mournfully.
Willow chuckled rawly, and he noticed that she'd opened her eyes.
"Hey, I look better this way," Spike said indignantly, touching his dyed blond hair. "Dev looks like she melted a bloody crayon on her head. Her hair is blacker than sin." He curled his lips. "The insane chit dyed it purple, of all things. It's bloody unnatural!" he added self-righteously.
"Go on," Willow urged him.
"She laughs a lot," he said after a moment. "Loves to laugh, actually. Not that she's easygoing," he hastened to add. He smiled fondly. "Even with her soul she can be damned remorseless." His eyes met Willow's, and he tilted his head. "She likes kittens, too," he added incongruously, then felt the need to clarify that statement. "To play with, not to eat."
"I don't know what it was."
Spike blinked. "No idea?"
"Just that there's terror surrounding her," Willow whispered, and Spike saw her knuckles whiten as she tightened her grip on her calves. "I don't know where it's coming from, or why it's.enveloping her." She shook her head sadly. "But I'll figure something out. I won't let her stay like that, feeling like that. I won't!"
"She's tough," he told her again. "She'll deal until you come up with something." Where had his cigarette gone? Hm. He lit another one, and stayed Willow with a hand on her shoulder when she would have gotten up. "Stay put," he instructed. "That reverb from Dev knocked you out. Get yourself steady before you start charging around on yet another mission."
"Um, okay," Willow stammered.
Willow began fidgeting when Spike didn't say anything else. From the corner of his eye, he could see her glance quickly at him several times, and open her mouth once before snapping it shut again.
"What is it now?" he asked, knowing that he sounded as put-upon as he felt, and not giving a shit.
"You've been calling him Angel," she blurted out, her eyes still focused on the roof beneath her. "What's up with that?" She waved her hands anxiously. "And, please, feel free to leave out the details. Seriously. No details needed."
A nasty smirk pulled at his lips. "Come on, don't you want to know who licked where, who bit who, who fu--"
"Lalalalala, I can't hear you," Willow almost shouted, her hands clapped over her ears. "Not listening. Nope. Not a word."
Spike pulled one hand down and laughed. "You'd think that this wouldn't be so fun since it's so easy. But, no. Fun as hell."
She glared at him. "Oh, please," she snapped, anger making her eyes glitter like emeralds, making her words less cautious than usual. "Like I don't already know? You made the beast with three backs, filling each other with your naughty seeds, then cuddled like a bunch of ferrets for the rest of the night. Oh, how *thrilling*. Please, do tell all about the Scourge-y sexcapades, because I'm sure it's nothing that's ever been done before."
Spike howled. "Naughty seeds?" he gasped between laughter. "Ferrets?"
"Shut up," she snapped, blushing in mortification. Dear lord, she'd just talked to Spike like he was Xander. He was never going to let her live it down. When Spike continued to laugh uproariously, she buried her face in her hands. "Oh, God, just toss me off the building."
"Ferrets!?!? Bloody priceless."
He was still laughing when she stomped away.
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Willow knew she was still redder than she'd ever been when she entered the living room. But who could blame her? She'd just given Spike enough ammunition on her for about ten years, and all because she'd forgotten just who she'd been talking to.
Angel was in the process of slamming the phone down when she came in, cursing more than she'd ever heard him curse, and then rounding on her with preternatural speed.
"Where's Spike?" he demanded furiously.
"Roof," Willow told him, frowning. "What's going on?"
"Cordy had a vision of us being attacked and Dev getting taken away. We need to get out of here. Now. Pack all of your stuff, and anything else that might make it obvious someone besides me was here."
Angel went to the roof, and Willow was cleaning out the bathroom when Spike came down. "Me and Dru will take care of the bedroom," he called out. "You take care of everything else." He poked his head into the bathroom. "And I mean everything. Got it?"
She nodded and continued erasing their existence from the bathroom. "Where's Angel?"
"Getting transportation," he said, walking away.
An hour later, just before dawn, Angel returned. He made a sweep of the apartment and offices, his eyes raking over every inch of every room, and came back downstairs with a few items Willow had missed. Namely, notepads she'd used and on which he'd scribbled in pencil, revealing what she'd written, a stray sock of hers--and how had that gotten in the office?--and the desktop computer from Cordy's desk.
Drusilla was flittering about the apartment, her eyes wide and her hands tearing at her hair. Spike ushered her back into the bedroom, telling her to get Dev ready to go. Then he and Angel began carrying their things out, including the trash bags Willow had filled with the food from the kitchen. Food that Angel would not have on hand, considering that he'd spread the word on the street that the office was closed for two weeks. A well- deserved vacation, he'd told everyone. The blood was stored in coolers, and Willow had seen Spike take a look at it, then turn his eyes to Angel, who'd nodded tightly.
She refused to think about what that meant, even when Spike took off for half an hour and came back looking grimly satisfied.
They put the living room furniture back in its proper place, and Willow folded up the bedding and stored it in the bathroom cupboards. She was on some kind of autopilot, she realized, doing what they'd told her and not asking questions. There didn't seem to be time for them, and for the first time in Willow's life, she wasn't clamoring to ask. Lately, she never got the answers she wanted to hear.
"We're loaded," Spike said as he entered the living room from the stair well. "How are we doing this?"
Angel tossed a set of keys at Willow, and she caught them instinctively. "You two go to the van. Willow's going to have to drive for now. Dru and I will bring Dev up."
"What about your car?" Willow asked hesitantly, clutching the keys in her hand. "And Spike's?"
"I hid them," Angel said tersely. "Go."
Willow grabbed her small suitcase, the only thing left to take with them, and followed Spike to the garage. A hulking white van was parked to their left, the back and side doors open. A cargo van, actually. The only real seats were the two in front. On the floor in the back were blankets, presumably for Dev. The rest of the stuff they were bringing with them was stashed around the bed.
Spike took the suitcase from her and tossed it carelessly in the back. "Right, can you drive this?" he asked as he lit a cigarette and glared at the van.
Willow considered it. The back was separated from the front with a divider, which meant she'd have to rely solely on the side view mirrors to navigate. And she also had a sneaking suspicion that it was going to beep when she put it into reverse. The correct answer was, a strong maybe. But looking at Spike's tense and twitching features, she knew he didn't want to hear that.
"Yeah, I'll be fine."
His mouth opened and closed several times before he shoved his cigarette between his lips and cursed. He stomped over to her, removed the cigarette again, and placed both hands on her shoulders.
"You didn't sign up for this, and I don't really care that you have to deal with it," he said clearly. Willow rolled her eyes. "We can't just let you out of it now, you hear?" She nodded, careful not to be too emphatic in case his cigarette singed her hair. "So, from this point on, suck it up. No more of these hysterics and shit. I don't give a bloody hell what's going on, you keep yourself together."
He shook her forcefully and narrowed his eyes. Willow swallowed as she faced down William the Bloody. "It's going to get worse, isn't it?" she asked in a small voice.
Spike closed his eyes. "My opinion? It's been a walk in the bleedin' park so far." His lids raised, and he tilted his head to the side. "They're coming." The hands on her shoulders turned her around and pushed her none- too-gently towards the driver's side door. "In you go."
Willow climbed in and turned on the ignition. The radio blared to life, Spanish music that was just too jaunty and full of movement for her current mood. She punched the "off" button with more force than necessary then adjusted her mirrors. She heard the vampires moving in the back, loading Dev in. Drusilla was humming softly, murmuring quiet words that Willow thought were directed at her unconscious childe, who was probably not happy about being hauled around.
She jumped when someone knocked on her window, saw Angel, and lowered it. "East," he said before walking round the back of the van.
There were a pair of sunglasses sat on the passenger seat, and she slipped them on. When Spike called out a few minutes later that they were ready, she put the car in drive and they started out.
As the bright morning sun made her squint even with the sunglasses on, Willow wondered when she'd be able to rest, just put her guard down and not have to worry about anymore unpleasant surprises.
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After taking time at a red light to consult a road map she'd found tucked between the front seats, Willow had driven East. It had been easy. A brief trip on I-10, then over to I-15 and then they'd been on I-40 and Willow was able to put the map away and just drive, stopping for food and bathrooms when necessary.
When dusk came, they were in Santa Fe. Willow was grateful when Angel told her to find a hotel for them to stay at. A few minutes later, she saw the Motel 6 and pulled off of I-25.
After a few wrong turns, she finally pulled the van to a stop and shut off the engine. Her eyes were burning and her head was pounding. Angel once again appeared at her window, this time with a wad of cash and instructions to get them two adjoining rooms. He was gone almost as quickly as he'd appeared, and Willow curled her lip in useless frustration.
"Yeah, sure, just call me Renfield," she muttered sarcastically as she practically fell out of the van.
A middle-aged woman was on duty in the fluorescent lobby. Willow made her way to the counter, twitching in time with a flickered bulb above her head. "I need two rooms, please. Adjoining. Can I get adjoining?" she asked tiredly.
"You sure can, dear," the woman replied brightly, consulting her computer and typing for a moment. "First or second floor?"
Blinking, Willow forced her brain to focus. "First," she said slowly, hesitantly. Then she nodded and repeated it more firmly. "Round the back, if you can manage it. Away from the highway," she added when the woman frowned in confusion.
Five minutes later she was holding two card keys in her hand. They had smoking rooms, which would appease Spike, and several cable channels, which she was looking forward to losing herself in until the woman continued her spiel of amenities.
".and of course we have data ports in all the rooms."
"Thanks," Willow said weakly, backing out of the lobby.
She pulled the van around where the woman had told her and exited it once again. Walking to the back doors, she knocked briefly and they opened several inches, one of Spike's blue eyes peering out at her. She handed him a card key and walked away without offering to help, because she really didn't want to and knew that they wouldn't let her.
How much longer that was going to last, she didn't know. Soon, they were going to stop trying to protect her from the sight of Dev, not because they wanted to twist her up a little bit more, but because it would become inconvenient. And as Spike had said, she was going to have to be able to suck it up. But not right then, when she was exhausted and confused and still trying to process all that had happened since the healing spell.
She let herself into the hotel room, hoping Angel would think to bring her stuff in, and turned the lights on. The room was small, but it had the two most beautiful pieces of furniture in it: real life beds. And they were big, too. Groaning hugely, Willow quickly moved past them and entered the small bathroom. She washed her faced and was drying it with a towel when a knock sounded.
She was almost at the main door before she realized it was coming from the adjoining door. Changing direction, she released the bolt and opened the door. Spike was there, the door on his side open as well. Willow stepped aside and let him in, noticing as she did so that he was holding her suitcase and laptop.
"Do you need that damned monstrosity?" he asked grumpily as he tossed the laptop on the bed.
"The what? Oh, Cordy's computer?" Spike nodded and Willow shook her head. "No, I pulled everything I needed from it. Angel didn't need to bring it."
"Good, then we'll bloody toss the damned thing," he mumbled, running a hand through his hair. "Angel's staying in here with you."
Willow's eyes widened. "Uh, why? I mean, aren't there two beds in your room?"
"Yes, there are, but he doesn't think it's a good idea for you to be in here alone and unprotected," Spike snorted. He raised a cynical eyebrow. "Maybe a stake pressed against his chest would convince him, eh?"
Blushing, Willow shrugged. "Yeah, uh, I'm not going to apologize for doing that," she said awkwardly.
"I'd lose the small grain of respect I have for you if you apologize," Spike said absently. "Okay, so, we're only going to be here for a few hours before we find someplace more permanent, so make the most of it."
Willow nodded, and then Spike left, closing both adjoining doors. Grabbing the laptop, Willow set it up at the desk and went to work. She wasn't very successful, as her mind kept racing with the events of the past week. Sighing, she leaned back and pressed her hand to her forehead. "Stop it, brain. I mean it. Focus, darn it!"
And it did, so suddenly and abruptly that Willow sat up immediately and stared at the screen in front of her. "No," she breathed, her fingers flying over the keyboard. "It can't be that easy. In fact, I'm going to have to hurt myself if it is, because I'm an idiot."
She pulled up the document from her talk with Angel and Spike, her first day in L.A., and scrolled to the bottom. She stared at the paragraph, toggled to the encryption screen of Dev's system, and cautiously typed in the words that Dev had said to Spike when she'd briefly woken up.
Branch.*tab*.leaves.*tab*.root.*tab*.crying.*tab*.tree.
And she was in.
"You're supposed to be in bed."
Willow shrieked and pressed a hand against her racing heart. "God, Angel, don't *do* that," she gasped, staring at him.
He shrugged an apology and took off his coat. "I told Spike to tell you to go to bed."
Trust Spike not to relay the message exactly as it had been given. Willow rolled her eyes, then bounded from the computer and yanked on Angel's arm. "I got into Dev's system, Angel!" she told him excitedly. "I'm in."
"How?" he asked urgently. "I thought--"
"She gave us the passwords," Willow interrupted, pulling him to the desk. "When she woke up. I haven't had a chance to look around yet, but I'm in."
Angel was leaning above her as she sat at the desk, and she felt his eyes on her. Turning her head, she saw the flat look in them. "Find what we need," he told her quietly.
"I will," she promised in kind, turning back to the screen.
An hour later, she blinked and looked around the room. Angel was lying on his back on one of the beds, hands folded under his head, eyes on the ceiling. "Angel?"
"What?"
Willow sighed and reached up to massage her aching shoulders. "The Analects," she began. "Dev translated most of it and stored it on her system, but none of it makes sense. It's like."
He rolled his head and looked at her. "They're fragments," Angel supplied for her. "Bits and pieces meant to lead the reader to the books that contain the prophecies."
"So not helpful," Willow said, frowning.
"She wouldn't have just translated the Analects and left it at that," Angel said eventually. "Keep looking."
Willow did. What she found was a complex database pertaining to the Analects, but there seemed to be no point of entry from which to access anything. Half the tables were linked from an FTP site, while the other half resided on Dev's hard drive. On first glance, it appeared to make no sense whatsoever. But as Willow studied the tables and reports, she began to see one. Dev had built an entire relational database for the Analects.
Clicking here and there, Willow saw how it all came together. Each translated portion of the Analects coincided to several other tables, which included translations and transcripts of the texts the Analects had lead her to. From there, Willow found another table in which Dev had written out in plain English, what it all meant. For those events that had already passed, there was a description of what exactly had happened. For those that had yet to occur, Dev had done her best to hypothesize everything that would happen, including dates, times, locations and parties involved.
The only problem was, Willow couldn't immediately see how they were joined and didn't know how to match up the tables properly. Dev was apparently a very careful vampire. Willow had all of the tables open and was analyzing them when the adjoining door flew open.
"Cheerleader called," Spike snarled. "We've got to move."
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Willow dropped the keys off in the office, explaining that she'd changed her mind about staying the night, and hurried out to the van. Angel was behind the wheel, with Spike, Dev and Drusilla in the back. Willow climbed into the passenger seat, and Angel took off without a word.
She slept somewhat fitfully, waking only when Angel called her name and told her to take over. Willow glanced out the window and saw that they were in a rest area, and that dawn was fast approaching. Angel handed her a cup of coffee, and she took it before exiting the van and walking around to the driver's seat.
"Where are we?" she asked groggily.
"Not sure," Angel said tiredly. "But we're going to Wichita."
"Why?"
"Why not?" he replied tightly. "Just follow the signs"
Getting behind the wheel, Willow started the van and pulled out the rest stop onto I-40. She sipped her coffee and adjusted the hat on her head.
She wondered what they were going to do. Neither of Cordy's visions had provided any information about who was after them, or how they were tracking them. All she had seen were the five of them getting attacked, first in L.A. and then in Santa Fe. Until they figured out how the bad guys were finding them, they were going to have to stay on the move. It was a vicious circle, that, because staying on the move meant they didn't have time to figure it out.
She wished that they'd made better use out of the time they'd had in Los Angeles.
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They only had seven hours in Wichita before Cordy called Angel's cell phone again. Spike tensed when the small phone chirped, then resigned himself to the fact that they were once again only a few steps ahead of their pursuers.
He went into the room Willow was in, and found her sleeping at the desk, her face pressed against the keyboard of the laptop. He was reluctant to wake her, seeing as how she'd driven most of the day, with barely any sleep the previous night. Spike was going to be driving the first leg of their next trip, but she'd have to take over yet again once dawn was upon them.
He didn't fancy their chances at continuing safely if she was a blink away from falling asleep at the wheel. That decided, he lifted her head from the computer and unhooked the machine from the wall. He packed it in the padded case and took it, along with her suitcase, to the van.
Angel looked at him curiously. "Where's Willow?"
"Fell asleep," Spike said as he put her belongings in the van, behind Dev's head. "I'll bring her out and put in the front. She'll have to take over soon," he explained, looking up at the sky.
Looking back at Angel, he saw an unreadable expression on the vampire's face. Then it was gone, as the frustration they were all feeling returned to Angel's features. "I'll turn the keys in. Get Dru and Willow and meet me around front."
Spike carried Willow out to the van, propping her in the passenger seat and then curling the seatbelt around her malleable form, before returning to his room for Dru. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed, her eyes watching him with no small amount of fear.
"They won't give up," she whispered, tears filling her dark eyes. "They'll come and come and come, and we can't run fast enough or far enough. They want her, need her, and they won't let her go."
Spike sat next to her and pulled her into his arms. "We'll figure it out, pet," he told her gently, even though he wasn't at all sure that they would. "We won't let them get her."
"It's not just our Devil, Spike," Drusilla cried harshly. "They'll want *her* too, and they'll get her even if it's not the way they mean to. She'll be turned inside out, until her organs glisten and weep wherever she goes. You'll think it a thing of great beauty, my darling Spike."
Spike stilled, and Drusilla turned in his arms. Her hands snaked up to his face, gripping it tightly. "And it *will* be," Dru whispered, her mouth inches from his. "As beautiful as anything we've ever done, luv. Spectacular like our most favorite dreams, and our former nightmares." She paused, and Spike blinked slowly as her eyes ran across his features and her hands caressed his cheeks. "And they will win," she said flatly, fire blazing in the depths of her brown eyes.
"Let's go!" Spike heard Angel hiss.
He looked away from Drusilla's hypnotic gaze and saw Angel standing at the door, fury written on every inch of his body.
Somewhat dazed, Spike led Dru from the room then handed her off to Angel at the back of the van. Taking the keys from Angel, Spike got behind the wheel, his troubled gaze touching on Willow as he started the engine.
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Several hours later, Spike watched her wake suddenly, her eyes flinging open and staring out with panic at the latest rest stop they'd arrived at. He even heard her heart race frantically for a long while before she blinked and shook her head.
"I need food," she said simply, her voice several octaves lower than usual. "And I need to change clothes."
She went into a fast food restaurant to take care of both those things. Spike thought she'd be in the bathroom for a while, seeing as how she hadn't had any time to deal with things in her usual way, but was surprised to see her emerge from the restaurant within minutes, a bag of food in one hand, and her soiled clothes in another.
"Where to?"
He didn't want to feel sorry for her, but the empty eyes and toneless words had him doing so anyway. She was going to have one huge breakdown when this was over. If it ever was.
"Madison," he answered, studying her waxen features. "We'll restock on blood there and move on."
She nodded quickly and started to move away. Spike's hand on her shoulder stopped her, and she looked up at him blankly. He didn't know what to say to her, and so he said nothing. She frowned, then pulled away and got into the front of the van.
Sighing, Spike got into the back and pulled the door closed. Dev was lying on the blankets they'd set up, Drusilla's sleeping form wrapped around her. Angel was sitting at their feet, and he looked up as Spike sat opposite him.
"How's she holding up?" he asked, his eyes flickering to the front.
"Not bloody well," Spike answered honestly. "Being the good little soldier, though."
"I talked to Wesley," Angel told him. "He's going to do some research and see if he can find out how we're being followed. Figures since we haven't used a credit card, they're not using conventional means."
Spike read between the lines, and Angel's averted face. "You don't think he'll find out, do you?"
A long pause, then, "No. There are too many ways they could be doing it, and we don't have enough information to recognize the method they're using."
Spike grunted and stretched his legs out. "Have I mentioned recently how bloody maddening this all is?" he groused.
"Once or twice."
Was that a bit of amusement? Yeah, it was. Good. Spike had never been of the opinion that having the odds against him meant he should forget the simple pleasures, and he thought Angel could do with following his lead.
"Ever imagine us like this again?" Spike asked, waving his arm vaguely. "Working together, on the run. It's like old times."
Just when he'd given up hope of a response, Angel's soft voice broke the silence. "Yeah, it is. Except, it was normally your irresponsibility that had us on the run."
"Huh, what can I say," Spike laughed. "I was a handful. What's that human saying? May you be cursed with children just like you?"
"Something like that," Angel agreed, chuckling. "But humans grow up, and you still haven't."
"Yeah, well."
Spike left it at that, not wanting to get onto that topic of conversation, despite their arrangement. Fact of it was, he'd noticed the changes in himself, even if he didn't let them show. He'd thought, at first, it was because he was on his own for the first time since he'd been turned. But after a while, he hadn't been convinced of that. After getting the damned chip out of his head, he'd headed out of Sunnydale, took over as Master in San Francisco, and found that it hadn't brought him nearly as much pleasure as it had in the past.
Which had led to a three-week period in which he'd pondered vampire society. Maybe the Sunnydale crew thought the world was crawling with old ones, but that wasn't the case. It was just that they came into contact with the old ones, who were drawn to the Hellmouth for one reason or another.
Truth was, it was rare that vampires lived to his, Dru or Angel's age. Darwin's theory seemed to be more amplified when it came to vampires than it did to humans. Probably because of their animalistic natures. Fledgling vampires were like newborn beasts, thinking of nothing but their need to feed, their need to be evil. They weren't capable of using their brains right away, and that got them killed. In Sunnydale, it was at the Slayer's hands, but elsewhere it was because of other vampires or demons. Weakness was preyed upon, and the brainless twits were weak to the extreme. Only the smart ones lived past the first decade or so. Survival of the fittest, and all that rot, louder and clearer than in any other species.
Spike had been privileged in that his sire hadn't just turned him and moved on. No, Drusilla had kept him close, her and the others teaching him, mopping up his messes for him, and protecting him from himself despite Darla's protests. Angelus had tried to teach him to focus his energy, but there hadn't been enough time to do it properly. He'd been shuffled offstage thanks to the Gypsy curse, and then his lessons had changed, so subtly that Spike hadn't even noticed the difference at the time.
Still, Spike hadn't forgotten what Angelus had tried to instill in him, and had actually begun applying it later on, when it had just been him and Dru. Because, in all honesty, Drusilla's mind didn't often let her think too much beyond the here and now and what she wanted, and someone had to think of all that could happen and prepare for it. Which was what Spike had done, but the enormity of what Angelus hadn't been able to teach him had been driven home, because he never could be more than a few steps ahead of everything. Hence Prague, and the Feast of St. Vigilus, and every other plan that had failed supremely.
And what all of this meant was that he was completely unprepared for where he now found himself, which was in a place well past fledgling lustfulness but not quite at an ancient's need to reshape the world into a living, breathing Hell. He thought it might actually be a crossroads, where he either took the path that the Master had, or did something else. Thing was, he didn't *know* what the other option was since, like the Slayer, the only path he'd seen played out had been the Hell on earth one.
He'd put it from his mind and left San Francisco, heading back to Sunnydale to do something he did well. Kill a Slayer. Only, that hadn't turned out the way he'd thought it would, had it? With his unsure state of mind, he'd reverted back to type, forgetting everything he'd learned. And he'd paid for it, too. Forced to be the Scoobies' pet vampire. Which actually suited him fine for the moment--though he'd take a holy water bath before admitting that to anyone. It gave him much needed down time to work out the shit in his head.
Angel was watching him. Spike could see his eyes focused on him even in the darkness that surrounded them. Considering. Thoughtful. Curious. Angel would understand what he was going through, he knew. Still didn't mean he wanted to get *that* chummy with him, especially since Angel would impart Poofy triteness instead of Angelus guidance. Besides, Spike had to hold some cards to his chest since the truce wouldn't last forever.
He ignored Angel, and continued to do so until Willow stopped the van at a hotel in Madison. It was almost a routine, now. She checked them in, drove them to their rooms, then went inside to set up shop. Since the sun hadn't yet set, she left them in the van. They'd follow as soon as dusk fell, which Spike's gut told him was in forty-five minutes.
Drusilla woke up when they stopped. Surprisingly, she was quieter than normal, as though someone had lowered her volume. She crawled over Dev, taking care not to brush against the injured vampire, and pressed herself against Angel. One arm stretched in Spike's direction, and he took the proffered hand, letting her pull him to her side.
Was it really so bad to enjoy this pretense, to fit himself next to these two and forget that almost a century had passed? Probably. Like a great many other things, Spike knew he'd regret it all later and stubbornly pushed that thought from his head.
Their childe had been tortured so viciously that Spike, who had earned his nickname honestly, had been horrified when he'd set eyes on her. They were now on the run from unknown people, who seemed to have the resources and abilities to track them and kill them (if the cheerleader's visions were to be believed), and the icing on the cake? Willow.
The funny thing about it being Willow with them was that she was possibly the best and worst human to have along. Best because, as Spike had realized in Giles' living room one evening when a mere thought of hers had slammed him against a wall and kept him there, she had the power they needed. Not to mention the brains, and the sappy side that had made her agree to help them simply because Angel had asked nicely.
She was also an almost tolerable human at times. Not all the time, mind, but sometimes. After all, she was the only one of the Slayer's people who had never tried to pretend that he wasn't there under duress, or that he wasn't dangerous. Giles tended to try to chat amicably with him, Buffy ordered him around like he was her willing slave, and Xander--feeling safe, no doubt, from retribution--took every opportunity to insult him. Willow, however, virtually ignored him. On the occasions when there was no choice but for them to speak, she was always polite but wary, and kept the chat brief. Which was how Spike thought it should be, really.
But she was also the worst human possible for them to have hauled into the middle of this because she was the Slayer's best friend. Angel thought Buffy would let it slide, since it had been Angel's idea. Spike rather thought that she would let Angel's part slide, but not Spike's. He hadn't been lying to Wesley the Wanker: there was only a slim chance the bitch wouldn't dust him. Even he had learned the two most important facts about fighting the current Slayer. First, the more brassed off she was, the less chance he had of surviving an encounter with her. Second, she got the most brassed off when her friends had been hurt.
What would happen when they returned would depend on Willow, which was why he'd been on semi-good behavior since they'd left her dorm.
Angel shifted, reaching for the door, and Spike realized that the sun had set. Clenching his jaw, he began unloading the van.
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