They were on the road again. Maybe still. Did those pit stops even count?
Spike didn't know, and he didn't care either. He was behind the wheel of
the van, the Clash was on the CD player, and there was a red-head in the
passenger seat giving as good as she got. All in all, it was shaping up to
be a damned fine day, er, night.
Hadn't been easy, keeping the Clash on. It had involved a stunning display of vampire strength and speed, followed by a demonstration of telekinetic prowess, and had culminated in Spike hanging Willow's padded CD holder out of the van then closing the strap in the window.
She'd endured barely five minutes of static (they seemed to be perpetually between signals) and the thud-crack of the CD holder against the side of the van before forking over his Clash CD.
"Did we just cross a state line?"
"No clue," Spike answered her diffidently. "Wasn't paying attention."
He heard a round of senseless noises and sneaked a peak at Willow. Her face was all scrunched up and her mouth was open.
"But, my map!" she gasped, shoving something under his nose. Spike caught a brief glimpse of a cheap gas station map that had been colored on before she snatched her hand back. "See, I've marked all of our routes, our stopping points, and indicated what motels we stayed at."
"Why?" Spike asked in astonishment. "Don't have enough on your plate as it is without becoming a mapmaker?" He shook his head. "You're going to have a heart attack before you're thirty. You type As are notorious for it."
"Sod off," she snapped, and Spike smirked. "How else do you think I make sure that we don't cross our own path? Hello--we're on the run, remember?"
"Kind of hard to forget," Spike said drolly. "But do you honestly think they're criss-crossing the damned country behind us?"
"You never know," Willow insisted. "Just because they have magic, doesn't mean they're relying solely on it. Pays to be safe."
"Whatever."
"Oh, hey, do you have that paper Drusilla wrote on?"
Spike rolled his eyes and deducted five years from her heart-attack age. "Yeah, I've got it," he drawled, shaking his head. He braced the steering wheel with his knees and began riffling through the pockets of his duster. A small whimper had him smirking, and he turned his head to look at Willow. "It's here somewhere," he said innocently, slowly patting the sides of the duster.
She threw out her hand and clutched at the dashboard. A perfect ten. Spike located the paper in the inside pocket, and tossed it at Willow, then took the opportunity to light a cigarette. When he was finally driving "properly" again, her hand left the dashboard and picked up the paper that had landed in her lap.
"Hopefully this will--this isn't in English."
"Did you *not* hear Drusilla say she couldn't understand the words?"
"I did, I just thought--"
"What, that she was bloody illiterate?" Spike growled indignantly.
"That's not what I was going to say. I mean, she *was* going to be a nun," Willow said wryly. "I sort of assumed that meant reading the bible."
Well, didn't that just take the wind out of his sails? Hmph. "Oh, right, yeah."
"I just thought that the vision might have been like a dream, 'cause you know, you can't read in dreams, even if you think--this is Sanskrit. Spike, this is *Sanskrit*" she shouted excitedly.
"Okay, yeah, and that means.?"
She unfastened her seatbelt and twisted around the seat, then ducked her head under the dash and felt around on the floor. "Where's my laptop? I *did* bring it up here, didn't I?"
"Sit up," Spike demanded. "You're going to break your damn head open."
"I can't," he heard her muffled voice say. "I need it."
Spike reached across the seat and hooked his fingers in the belt loops of her jeans, yanking up. Her head smacked against the panel and she squealed. "Ow. That was my head!"
"Told you," Spike said smugly. "Now sit up and I'll give you the bloody machine."
She reappeared, one hand rubbing the back of her head, glaring at him. "Jerk."
"Be nice, or you won't get your toy," Spike tsked. Unpleasant mutterings came from her as she pulled her seatbelt back into place. Spike ignored her and reached behind his seat, grabbing hold of the case and dragging it between the seats.
When she would have reached for it, he grabbed her wrist. "If you tell me you've got a bleedin' Sanskrit-to-English dictionary on there, then I'm seriously going to have to insist that you get a hobby," he drawled.
Her eyes widened and she laughed, shaking her head. "Nope, no translator," she assured him, her eyes twinkling.
Spike released her wrist and nodded. "Glad to hear it. So, then, what's the big deal about it being Sanskrit?"
Willow pulled the computer from the case and set it on her knees. "A couple of the Analects passages are in Sanskrit," she told him as she raised the monitor and turned it on.
"I thought you didn't know how to fit all that together?"
"I don't. Not yet." Spike opened his mouth but her voice cut him off. "Aha! Sanskrit entry."
"What are you doing over there if you can't translate it, and you can't look anything up?" Spike asked curiously.
"Making note of where it is," Willow said with a shrug. "This way I can go right to it once I know how to use it."
"Any progress on that yet?"
"It's slow going," she confessed. "I haven't had much time to work on it, what with the spell books I've been looking into, and the fact that I'm driving most of the time or trying to sleep."
By the time dawn came around, Willow had long since put the computer aside and fallen to sleep. Spike roused her with little time to spare for him to shut himself in the back.
Once there, he added his blood to Angel's and Drusilla's, then carefully lifted Dev's head and fed her. "She been in much pain?"
"Not really," Angel replied. "Willow's salve seems to be helping."
Spike crawled around Drusilla and Dev--once again Drusilla was plastered to their child--and sat next to Angel along the side of the van.
They talked for most of the day about nothing really important. It was just.conversation. The likes of which Spike hadn't participated in for longer than he cared to admit. And he found that talking with Angel was actually nicer than talking with Angelus, since Angel didn't stick to murder and mayhem alone, the way Angelus did. Not that Spike didn't mind talk of M&M, but it did get rather monotonous after a decade or two.
The two debated at length about literature, for example, Spike's cynical disgust clashing mightily with Angel's romantic sentimentality. By the time that discussion was over, Angel had been growling--another perfect ten--and the sun had set.
Par for the course, Willow found and then checked them into a motel. They did the standard unloading routine, then fed Dev once again. There was no need for another blood run, so Spike assumed they'd be staying put in the motel, Willow getting some sleep and the rest of them just sort of hanging around.
Instead, Angel stopped Willow as she began to unpack her computer. "Not tonight," he said, shaking his head. "Tonight, we're going out. Drusilla, will you stay here with Dev?"
"Of course," Drusilla agreed immediately, her eyes gleaming.
Stubborn to the end, Willow refused. "I don't want to."
"Tough," Spike announced, realizing what it was about. He took Willow by the wrist and pulled her towards the bathroom. He snagged her suitcase on the way and dumped it into the tiled room. "Go put something snazzy on. We'll be waiting."
She was so bemused by the suddenness of it all that Spike got her into the bathroom, and shut the door on her, before she could say anything further. A few moments later he heard the shower running.
Angel picked up the van keys, which Willow had dropped on the desk, and tossed them at Spike. "Lock the laptop in the back of the van. Keep a hold of the keys."
When Willow came back into the room, her eyes immediately narrowed on the empty desk. Her brows lifted as she turned to Angel. "You mean business, don't you?"
Angel dipped his head in acknowledgement and smiled. "Everyone's had some time away from it, except you."
"I can manipulate locks, you know," she reminded them.
But the glint in her green eyes belied her words. Spike snorted disdainfully. "Yeah, yeah, and you can fling me around like a rag doll." He rolled his yes. "All very cute. Now get your shoes on and prove you can do something impressive, like have fun." He ran his eyes over her dark blue jeans and some kind of matching tank-top/sweater thing. "You consider that snazzy?" he asked disapprovingly.
"No, mainly because I'm under the age of ninety and don't use that word," Willow retorted smartly. "Besides, I didn't bring all that much and what's wrong with what I'm wearing?" she asked, looking down.
Spike didn't say anything, thinking it obvious. He saw Angel eye her critically. "Lose the sweater," Angel suggested. "And.poof your breasts."
Willow gaped at him. "Poof my breasts? What the heck does that mean?"
Angel gestured at his own chest with his hands, curling them around an imaginary set of breasts. "You know, that thing that women do." She raised an eyebrow. "Like when you were pretending to be the Willow vampire." He gestured again, pulling his hands up and out. "Poof."
Spike howled hysterically, doubling over. "More than two centuries old, and over a year with the cheerleader," he gasped, "and that's the best you can come up with? Poof her breasts?"
"That's it, I'm not going," Willow declared stubbornly.
"Spike."
He looked up, still laughing, to see Angel staring at him in consternation, utterly lost as to how to proceed. He knew what Angel was doing: fulfilling his duty. Trying to get Willow to loosen up for the night, to be forced to forget about everything else. Even if that meant making her incredibly uncomfortable.
"Oh, fine," Spike said, pushing his laughter aside.
He strode over to Willow and walked a circle around her. She didn't have a chance to move, much less prevent it, when Spike brought his hands to the back of her shoulders and yanked the sweater down and off.
"Hey!" she squealed, attempting to grab the sweater back from him. Spike tossed it in the corner of the room and frowned at her. Drusilla expressed her approval by clapping and laughing, watching them with wide eyes.
"Aren't those jeans supposed to be three inches lower on your waist?"
"NO! They're where--"
"That's better," Spike said in satisfaction, removing his fingers from the belt loops in her jeans. He smacked her hands away when she tried to pull them back up. "Stop it, now. You shouldn't have bought them if you weren't going to wear them properly," he lectured.
"I *didn't* buy them, darn it!" she snapped, glaring at him for all she was worth. "Buffy did, and I didn't realize I'd packed them."
Spike met Angel's eyes and they shared a grin. Yep, she was definitely not thinking about databases or spells.
"What's the matter, anyway?" Spike asked, circling her again. "You stopped dressing like a frump last year."
"The big deal," Willow hissed, moving with him so that she could keep that glare of hers firmly planted on him, "is that 'poofing my breasts' and putting my belly-button on display isn't appropriate for this little adventure of ours."
Uh-oh. Angel stepped in. "Willow, I don't think you understand," Angel said quietly, firmly. "You don't have a choice. You're going to go out, you're going to forget everything for a little while, and you're going to have fun."
Willow spun on her heel and transferred her glare from Spike to Angel. Spike took advantage of having Willow's back presented to him, and hooked his fingers under the thin straps of the tank top, jerking them towards him and effectively snapping them from the shirt itself.
One of her hands flew to her chest to keep the shirt up, and the other pressed to her forehead. "You're not supposed to team up on me," she groaned miserably. "I can't handle both of you."
"Pet, you can't handle either of us," Spike laughed.
She raised her head slowly and twisted, staring back and forth between Spike and Angel. "I should just give up, shouldn't I?" she said dejectedly. They nodded and she sighed hugely, finally defeated. "And what am I supposed to do for a shirt now?"
"Just fold the front of it under," Spike instructed. "Then pull the straps under your arms and tie them at your back."
She fumbled a bit, and had to turn her back to them to preserve her modesty. Drusilla peered at her with unconcealed interest, but Willow just told her to stop being a peeping-tom.
Her hands met at her back, just to the side of her armpits, but she couldn't tie the straps properly. Spike was considering what she would do if he tried to help her when Angel crossed the room and took the straps from her, expertly tying a knot, then hiding it with a bow.
"There. All set," he said, stepping back.
"First I get to sleep between the two of you, then you dress me," Willow drawled as she turned around, blushing slightly. "No one would believe it even if I was going to tell them."
"So, let's review," Angel said blandly. "What are you going to do tonight?"
Willow's lips twisted. "I'm going to go out, apparently with the male half of the Scourge of Europe, forget about everything, and have fun," she recited dutifully, mirth making her eyes shimmer.
Angel nodded approvingly.
"Right then, off we go," Spike declared.
Outside, Angel informed Spike and Willow that they were going to a bar. One that served food and offered dancing. Situated just off the highway as they were, bars were abundant, and it didn't take them long to find one that met Angel's requirements. Spike pulled into the parking lot, wincing at the sign.
*Billy Bob's--Karaoke Every Thursday*
The wince changed to a shiver of apprehension when he realized that he had no bloody idea what day it was. His fear was confirmed a second later when Willow, who was squished between the two front seats, squealed with delight.
"Karaoke! Oh, and it's tonight!"
He sent a murderous glare at Angel, who just tilted his head down and smiled slightly at Willow. "We don't have much time," he reminded her. "Only about an hour or so. Better make it count."
She moved to her knees and bounced excitedly. "I don't actually sing, I just like to watch. Let me out. Do you think they have ribs? I'd kill for some ribs."
Angel had barely stepped out of the van before Willow was scrambling out after him, her earlier reluctance to unwind nowhere in sight. She bounded ahead, turning back to motion at them to hurry.
"I'll just wait out here," Spike said casually.
Angel ducked his head back in the van. "I'm not suffering alone. Get out."
"Fine," Spike huffed, turning the engine off and jerking the key out of the ignition. He exited the van and slammed the door shut. Angel crossed in front of the van and they started walking. "But I'm not going to have fun," Spike spat, "and don't expect me to not complain."
Angel clapped Spike on the back and grinned. "I'm counting on both those things," he said cryptically.
***
Willow grinned widely at the cramped corner where the Karaoke machine was set up, and tried to guess what the next participant was gong to sing. They had come at the end of an intermission, so while she had had the chance to order the much-craved ribs, she had yet to be subject to the entertainment.
"I bet she goes with.Dancing Queen," Willow told Spike and Angel. "Oh! Or maybe Pat Benitar; she's got that eighties hair going. What do you think?"
"I think I'd rather be back in Harris' basement, tied to that bloody recliner," Spike snapped, taking a swig of his drink.
Willow stuck her tongue out at him and turned to Angel, who just looked at her blankly. "Oh, forget it," Willow griped, turning back to the stage. The first notes of "Stand By Your Man" emanated from the Karaoke machine, and she slapped her forehead. "I should've known. That was country hair, not eighties hair."
"Stake me now," Spike moaned theatrically.
Willow slapped his arm without looking away. "Hush! You're being rude."
The short woman, with the hair that Willow thought might be as tall as she was, started singing. Very, very badly. As she squeaked past a particularly high note, Willow screamed and clapped along with half a dozen other patrons.
"Stop encouraging the bint!" Spike exploded, panic in his voice. "She might sing again."
"That's the point," Willow said absently. "And didn't I tell you to shut up?"
"What do you mean, that's the point? She sounds like cat in heat. I'm half- tempted to tear her vocal chords out as a public service."
"No," Willow heard Angel said immediately.
"Damn."
Willow screamed again, then cut a glance at Spike. "It takes a lot of nerve to get up there, *especially* if you can't sing. I'm applauding her chutzpah. And you're breaking the Cardinal Rule," she added, clapping some more. "Thou shalt not mock, unless thou has the...stones to sing."
Willow met his eyes and waved at the Karaoke machine in an invitation. Spike set his drink down carefully and leaned forward, his eyes hard. "A cold day in Hell," he said succinctly.
Willow leaned towards him as well, mimicking the look on his face right down to the sneer. "Then knock it off," she replied in kind. Then she had the strangest urge, which she decided to indulge, since this was just a dream and Spike didn't hate her. She tweaked his nose.
He stopped cursing at her only when Angel slapped his hand over Spike's mouth when the waitress came. Willow sat up smugly while Spike glared balefully at her.
"Children," Angel chided.
Spike shoved Angel's hand from his face and lit a cigarette. Willow blinked innocently and focused on the huge plate of ribs in front of her. She chased them with a soda, pausing her feast only to applaud and whoop it up for the latest singer. Spike's sneering commentary was non-stop, and Willow tuned most of it out, only chastising him once or twice.
Sometime around a not-too-bad rendition of "Sweet Home Alabama", featuring four very drunk pot-bellied men, Angel tapped Willow on the shoulder and then pointed at the door.
Spike flew to his feet. "'Bout bloody time."
Willow was much slower to push her chair back and stand. As much as she really hadn't wanted to go out, she had to admit that it had been a good idea.
Spike was already at the van by the time Willow and Spike came through the door of the bar. Willow tossed Angel a brief glance. "Thanks."
"I'm glad you had fun," Angel replied softly. Willow looked up and saw that he was staring at a point in the distance.
"What's up?" Willow inquired.
Angel blinked and shook his head. "Not a thing."
She didn't believe that, so she searched his eyes. Either he really was just fine, or hiding it rather well. He stopped walking, and Willow came to a halt as well, raising her eyebrows curiously.
"Despite what you said, I don't think you understand all the implications of." He drifted off, then started again, this time with more certainty. "What I've done with Spike and Dru, it puts me in a position of authority."
Willow nodded slowly, having no idea where he was going. "I picked up on that, actually."
Angel sliced his hand through the air, negating her statement. "It's more than what you've seen, Willow. They've basically accepted me as their sire again for the duration of this. Do you know what that means?" he asked steadily.
Not wanting to admit that she'd eavesdropped on him and Spike, and deciding that she wanted some clarification beyond even what she'd overheard, Willow shook her head.
"It means," Angel explained seriously, "that I am one hundred percent responsible for them, in every way imaginable. They've put their lives, and their emotional well-being, in my hands."
"You're like a father and a guide and a leader, all rolled into one," Willow said with a nod.
Angel frowned in surprise. "Well, yes, and that isn't in the Watchers' journals," he added suspiciously. Willow just shrugged and tried to keep the guilt off her face. He narrowed his eyes and continued. "To do all of that, I've had to make some internal adjustments to--"
"I get that," Willow interrupted. "You've had to revert a bit. But why are you telling me this? At this particular moment?"
"You were listening from the van last night," Angel said suddenly, giving her a chastising look. "That's why you were in a better mood when you came to the room."
"You were being kind of loud," Willow hedged.
Angel rolled his eyes. "We were not--"
Spike's impatient voice, from the middle of the small parking lot, cut him off. "Hey, hurry it up!"
"Come on," Angel said, taking her arm. "I'll explain it when we're on the road again."
A mere hour later they had fed Dev one more time, checked out of the motel and started on their way. Angel was driving this time, and Willow was sitting in the passenger seat, still curious about what Angel had been trying to tell her earlier.
"So, explain," she urged as they merged onto the highway.
"Vampires are insular," Angel began. "Not just from other species, but from each other."
"You guys probably more so, I would guess," Willow interrupted.
Angel shot her a probing look. "Why do you say that?"
"Just something I was thinking about after I heard you and Spike," she confessed. "The Watchers' journals only have two or three other documented cases of vampires sticking together like you all did. In a way that's not master/minion," she clarified. "That connection made you more powerful as a whole, which means that those who didn't just avoid you like the plague probably tried to take you down."
Angel nodded slowly. "You're right. There was us, and then there was everyone else. Not only because of the circumstances you mentioned, but because that's just how vampires are. No one else exists or matters, and I mean no one."
"So, what you're saying is that because you're being their sire again, you're starting to think like that again?" Angel nodded, and Willow frowned. "If that's the case, then what went on tonight? Because, if I understand this correctly, then you shouldn't have bothered. You know, with the getting me out thing."
"Exactly," Angel said clearly. "If you just happened to be around during all of this, it wouldn't have mattered that you needed a break."
Willow rubbed her forehead. What she wouldn't give for someone who didn't talk in circles before getting to the point. "I *do* just happen to be around," she reminded him in consternation.
"No, you're here to save Dev," Angel said gravely. "That makes you *one* of us."
Willow turned that over in her head for a long moment. "I'm entitled to the benefits that go along with being in your little family," she said with surprise, then bit her lip and shook her head. "Nothing really changes though. You've always protected me, Angel."
"Yes, I have, but it's not just about keeping you safe. It's even more than what I do with Cordy and Wes. I have to take care of you in every way that I do the others, mentally, emotionally and physically. But it's not just me. We're talking about a power structure here, Willow," Angel went on to say. "I'm at the top and right now you--and Dev, of course--are at the bottom. Looking out for you in all ways is the job of everyone who's higher on the pyramid."
A light went on in Willow's head. Drusilla's behavior suddenly made a great deal of sense. Everything Drusilla had done had stemmed from what Angel had just said and not, as Willow had assumed, from what Dev had done.
"Then tonight wasn't about Spike liking me," she mused.
"Sorry, but no," Angel said wryly. "We're in crisis mode, so that really doesn't count for much at the moment."
"Okay, what's my responsibility to all of you, then?" Willow asked curiously. At Angel's sharp look she added, "It *is* give and take, right?"
He laughed a bit self-depracatingly, Willow thought. "Yeah, yeah it is. Beyond what you're already doing for Dev, a large part is doing for us what we do for you. More importantly than that, it's letting *us* do for *you*." He shot a stern look at her. "Is this making sense?"
Willow didn't answer right away because her throat was thick. Swallowing back the lump, she replied, "Yes."
"Good. I've never really had to explain this to someone," he said awkwardly. "Anyway, the specific reason I'm telling you is because you're going to have it tossed at you, most of the time without anyone saying that's why they're doing something."
He tossed her a rueful look, and raised one brow.
"That fight with Spike?" she asked incredulously, staring at him. "That fight was about this? But he was so nasty!"
Angel nodded. "The.imperative--it doesn't mean being nice and polite all the time."
"But, come one!" Willow cried out. "He was really mean, Angel. I can't believe he had some kind of ulterior--"
"Did he make his point?" Angel interrupted. She remained stubbornly quiet. "Because I think he did. I think that's why you dismissed me when I tried to apologize to you later, and I think that's why you were able to have fun tonight."
"Still," she grumbled. "He could have been a little nice."
Angel flashed her a smile. "When isn't he some level of rude, Willow?"
Her lips twitched, and he noticed. His hand reached out and smoothed the back of her hair, turning her head so that she met his eyes. "Just let go a little bit," he said quietly. "Let us take care of you as much as you've been trying to take care of us."
A small smile and he was facing the road again. Willow chewed her lip and leaned her head against the window next to her.
Angel let the discussion falter then, and Willow stared out the window while she pondered all that she'd learned that night. As with everything else that had transpired recently, Willow found herself with as many new questions as answers.
***
When they stopped, Spike wasn't surprised to see Willow dig in to her books after Dev was fed. No doubt the night off had made her feel guilty. Shaking his head, he turned on the television and started flipping through the channels. Dev had already been taken care of, and Angel and Drusilla had gone out that evening.
"Why don't you take advantage of the empty bed?" Spike said as he sat next to Dev and used the remote to turn the television on.
"I can't," Willow responded. "I want to try something on Dev. Wanna help?"
Spike turned his head slowly and stared at her. "What?"
She left the desk and approached him, tired and weary, moving slower than normal, but still with that bright spark of knowledge in her eyes. "An unveiling spell," she said, standing next to him. "It should show me what made the healing spell bounce back."
Spike rolled his eyes. "Do you even remember puking on yourself the last damned time you tried working mojo on her?" he asked sarcastically.
Willow frowned. "Uh, no. I puked? Really?" she asked, looking a little grossed out. "Yuck, never mind. Don't want the details." She shivered with distaste, then plowed on. "This spell isn't on Dev, it's on me. It'll.allow me to see whatever magic's been worked on her."
"You're not doing it."
"What? Why not?" Willow exclaimed angrily.
"You can wait until Angel gets back," Spike snapped.
Willow glared at him and planted her hands on her hips. "But--"
"Angel already explained it to you," Spike interrupted with a shrug. "You hurt yourself on my watch, and I get it taken out of my hide. If Angel's here, then it's on his shoulders."
He reached out a lazy hand and shoved her backwards. She toppled onto the empty bed, looking stunned. "So just take a nap or watch the telly until he gets back."
"It's not dangerous or anything," she insisted, scrambling to her knees and folding her arms across her chest.
"Save the persuasive arguments for Angel," Spike advised sarcastically.
"Can't I just--"
"No."
"What if--"
"No."
"You're whipped."
Spike lowered the remote and turned his head slowly to stare at her. Damn, but she had a knack for saying just the right thing to infuriate him. "Shut the bloody hell up," he told her dangerously.
"Fine," Willow snapped, flouncing back on the bed and pouting. "I just don't see why I need permission to do something I want to do."
"Because you have to, all right?" Spike growled. "That's the way it works. So get used to it already. I swear you're the most pig-headed bint on the planet."
He flipped through the channels again, unconcerned, and Willow continued sulking until Angel and Drusilla returned an hour later. Drusilla went immediately to Dev, sitting on the floor on the other side of the bed and cooing softly at their child.
"We were hardly gone," Angel groaned when he got a good look at Willow and Spike.
"Will thinks she can just do whatever the hell she wants," Spike bit out, glaring at her again. She squirmed and shrugged, looking down. "Doesn't care that it could mean I get the shit kicked out of me."
"I didn't say that," Willow protested indignantly.
"Yes you did," Angel countered, and Spike saw the surprised look she gave Angel. "If you tried to do something you knew get Spike in trouble then you said just that."
Willow looked distinctly uncomfortable, but still angry. Spike understood it was rather alien to her, this type of situation, but she was being more stubborn than she needed to be. Perhaps a different tactic...
Spike swung his legs off the bed and leaned towards her. She held out a few long moments, then looked at him. "Your responsibilities," Spike hissed, "include not getting one of us in trouble because of your stubbornness. Got it?"
She blinked, and Spike could see that it was working. Her eyes widened dramatically and her mouth opened infinitesimally. "Oh," she said smally. "I, uh, didn't look at it that way."
Spike rolled his eyes. "You can say that again."
"What is it you wanted to do?" Angel asked, effectively switching tracks.
"An unveiling spell," Willow said quietly. "It would allow me to see what kind of magic was done on Dev."
"What does it involve?" Angel asked immediately, taking off his coat and focusing on her.
Spike listened as she went into detail, glad to see that she was no longer puffed up with righteous anger. Instead, she was hesitant, docile, and she was blushing slightly--a sure sign she knew she'd been in the wrong. Good. Maybe she'd be a little more considerate of his hide.
Angel eventually agreed to let Willow attempt the spell, after a great many probing questions, only if Wesley agreed it might work. Spike saw the frown that marred Willow's face when Angel called Wesley.
"He doesn't doubt you," Spike told her grudgingly. "If the situation was different, he wouldn't even have questioned you." Spike shrugged and gave her a direct look. "But now you're more than just the Slayer's best pal, more than his friend. He has to be more vigilant about things. For your own good."
She looked down quickly, and Spike tilted his head, considering her. Yes, it wasn't something she was used to, but why was it so hard for her to accept? Then he remembered just how little interest the families in Sunnydale showed for their kids, what with being so caught up in the "la la nothing's strange in our town" denial. As for the Slayer and friends, well, they all tended to take big risks with themselves for the greater good, and were eager to believe each other when they all downplayed the risks.
That's why Willow was uncomfortable. She wasn't used to someone keeping her more in mind than the greater good.
Spike reached across the divide between the beds and tapped her on the arm, garnering her attention again. "If it came down to me, Dru or Dev," Spike put forth, "Angel would have to pick all, and he couldn't allow any of us to choose the others. That's what it all comes down to at the end of the night. All of us, not just some of us."
Willow frowned, "Is that why you wouldn't consider the restoration ritual?" she ventured hesitantly.
"Exactly. Especially considering it's Dev," he added as an afterthought. "The soul would rip her to shreds if we sacrificed ourselves for her."
Nodding slowly, Willow sighed. "I'm sorry," she offered. "There's all these other things to take into consideration and I just."
"Shut up," Spike dismissed. "You found out about this, what? Twelve hours ago? No one expects you to comprehend every last detail. Just listen when we try to explain," he added facetiously.
"Check," Willow said wryly. "Listen to what Spike says. Oh, that'll be easy."
Spike curled his lip and reached out yet again, this time to pinch her arm. "You're too cheeky for your own good," he snipped. "Best remember to respect your elders."
Her eyes picked up a bright gleam and Spike groaned, knowing she was going to display the cheek again. "Anytime I'm not sure how to respond, I'll just think.what would Spike say?" she quipped.
Spike lowered his brows and curled his lip. "Bugger off," he groused, but he was amused nonetheless. Bloody hell, she was quicker to adapt than most.
"Okay," Angel announced, and Spike looked his way. "Go ahead, Willow."
Spike sought out Angel's eyes, and the elder vampire nodded reassuringly. Apparently he was at ease with what Willow was going to attempt. Spike looked to Drusilla, who was already watching him, a quiet smile on her full lips.
Willow gathered some things from her trunk, Spike watching like a hawk. There was sand, some herbs, a bit of Latin, and then Willow nodded her head.
"It's done," she told them.
***
It was altogether surreal, was Willow's first thought after the spell was completed. With wonder, she looked around herself. Everything was muted and highlighted at the same time and she seemed to be moving faster than everyone else. Or maybe she was as much in slow motion as they appeared to be.
"--ou all right?"
The voice seemed to be coming from a distance, and she looked up and saw Angel standing in front of her, looking concerned. He was doused in a black smoke that moved as he did, but from his stomach protruded a dazzling bundle of colors, all dark and angry looking, and wrapping tentacles around something white and beautiful, pressing it against Angel's stomach.
"Willow?"
His voice was still as far away as before, but Willow could hear the worry. She smiled reassuringly and looked around. Spike and Dru were doused in the same black fog. Which meant the black was the vampire aspect. The other stuff in Angel, that had to be the Gypsy curse.
"--sure you--this?"
She'd missed half of what Angel had actually said, but she knew what he meant. "I'm sure," Willow replied, her own voice sounding to ears as though it was playing back from a tape recording.
Ignoring Dev for a moment more, Willow went to the bathroom, knowing Angel was following, and looked in the mirror, seeing reflected in the glass the unveiling spell. That she had expected. What was unexpected was the other thing.the root-like strands that were wrapped around her, from the crown of her head all the way down to the top of her chest, which was all she could see in the mirror.
Brushing past Angel, Willow left the bathroom and went to the foot of Dev's bed, keeping her eyes downcast for the moment. She wanted the full experience of it at once. Taking a breath, Willow lifted her eyes and focused on Dev.
The black was there, of course. Unlike Angel, however, Dev's soul--the beautiful white glow--wasn't being clutched to her by something unnatural. Instead, it was dispersed amid the fog, the two intertwining all around her form. Interesting. Willow let her gaze go a bit unfocused, trying to see anything that was outside of Dev, around even the black and white of her being.
It took a few moments, but then it came into focus. A whorl of red that surrounded Dev like a bubble, swirling around. Willow walked around the bed, studying it from every angle. It seemed battered and worn in some areas, the black/white of Dev bleeding through prominently in some areas. That was why it was shifting; it was moving the vulnerable spots constantly so that they couldn't be pinned down.
Willow frowned. There were too many threadbare areas. Her one assault shouldn't have damaged it so much, and in so many different areas. In fact, as it moved again, Willow could see exactly where she'd "punched" it, as the spot was marked by the same roots that had covered her reflection. So then what had caused the rest of the damage? Was Dev actually attacking it from the inside?
Narrowing her eyes, Willow thought about it. If Dev had similar powers to Drusilla, and had been able to actually take control of Willow herself, who was to say that she didn't have the ability to launch an attack on what was blocking her.
Shifting her gaze again, Willow sought out the black/white that was Dev, then looked past it this time, seeing what was inherent in Dev beyond the vampire with a soul thing. When it appeared, Willow frowned yet again. It didn't make sense. She could suddenly see Dev's magic on her, and it was the same red that was surrounding her.
Willow pulled her sight back and studied the red bubble, noticing now that the worn patches were in shades of dark purple, and that they were reaching outwards for something. Trying to find what? More of itself? But why were they stopping just several feet away from Dev rather than extending as far out as they wanted?
Sucking in a deep breath, Willow had a thought. She spun on her heel and shoved past the vampires, going back to the mirror in the bathroom. In the mirror, she stared at the roots that were threaded through the pale green of the unveiling spell. She grabbed a surprised Angel and stared at the soul magic. There, along the tentacles. Roots.
Back to Dev's side, where Willow considered the dark purple patches, and saw how they were being pulled on by the red.
A small bit of Willow's magic was entwined with the unveiling spell and the restoration spell because she'd performed them, but what if she'd pushed outwards in desperation, thrust her magic protectively around her? Wouldn't it then be just the roots and nothing else? With that, it all fell into place.
"Oh my God," Willow breathed.
***
Hadn't been easy, keeping the Clash on. It had involved a stunning display of vampire strength and speed, followed by a demonstration of telekinetic prowess, and had culminated in Spike hanging Willow's padded CD holder out of the van then closing the strap in the window.
She'd endured barely five minutes of static (they seemed to be perpetually between signals) and the thud-crack of the CD holder against the side of the van before forking over his Clash CD.
"Did we just cross a state line?"
"No clue," Spike answered her diffidently. "Wasn't paying attention."
He heard a round of senseless noises and sneaked a peak at Willow. Her face was all scrunched up and her mouth was open.
"But, my map!" she gasped, shoving something under his nose. Spike caught a brief glimpse of a cheap gas station map that had been colored on before she snatched her hand back. "See, I've marked all of our routes, our stopping points, and indicated what motels we stayed at."
"Why?" Spike asked in astonishment. "Don't have enough on your plate as it is without becoming a mapmaker?" He shook his head. "You're going to have a heart attack before you're thirty. You type As are notorious for it."
"Sod off," she snapped, and Spike smirked. "How else do you think I make sure that we don't cross our own path? Hello--we're on the run, remember?"
"Kind of hard to forget," Spike said drolly. "But do you honestly think they're criss-crossing the damned country behind us?"
"You never know," Willow insisted. "Just because they have magic, doesn't mean they're relying solely on it. Pays to be safe."
"Whatever."
"Oh, hey, do you have that paper Drusilla wrote on?"
Spike rolled his eyes and deducted five years from her heart-attack age. "Yeah, I've got it," he drawled, shaking his head. He braced the steering wheel with his knees and began riffling through the pockets of his duster. A small whimper had him smirking, and he turned his head to look at Willow. "It's here somewhere," he said innocently, slowly patting the sides of the duster.
She threw out her hand and clutched at the dashboard. A perfect ten. Spike located the paper in the inside pocket, and tossed it at Willow, then took the opportunity to light a cigarette. When he was finally driving "properly" again, her hand left the dashboard and picked up the paper that had landed in her lap.
"Hopefully this will--this isn't in English."
"Did you *not* hear Drusilla say she couldn't understand the words?"
"I did, I just thought--"
"What, that she was bloody illiterate?" Spike growled indignantly.
"That's not what I was going to say. I mean, she *was* going to be a nun," Willow said wryly. "I sort of assumed that meant reading the bible."
Well, didn't that just take the wind out of his sails? Hmph. "Oh, right, yeah."
"I just thought that the vision might have been like a dream, 'cause you know, you can't read in dreams, even if you think--this is Sanskrit. Spike, this is *Sanskrit*" she shouted excitedly.
"Okay, yeah, and that means.?"
She unfastened her seatbelt and twisted around the seat, then ducked her head under the dash and felt around on the floor. "Where's my laptop? I *did* bring it up here, didn't I?"
"Sit up," Spike demanded. "You're going to break your damn head open."
"I can't," he heard her muffled voice say. "I need it."
Spike reached across the seat and hooked his fingers in the belt loops of her jeans, yanking up. Her head smacked against the panel and she squealed. "Ow. That was my head!"
"Told you," Spike said smugly. "Now sit up and I'll give you the bloody machine."
She reappeared, one hand rubbing the back of her head, glaring at him. "Jerk."
"Be nice, or you won't get your toy," Spike tsked. Unpleasant mutterings came from her as she pulled her seatbelt back into place. Spike ignored her and reached behind his seat, grabbing hold of the case and dragging it between the seats.
When she would have reached for it, he grabbed her wrist. "If you tell me you've got a bleedin' Sanskrit-to-English dictionary on there, then I'm seriously going to have to insist that you get a hobby," he drawled.
Her eyes widened and she laughed, shaking her head. "Nope, no translator," she assured him, her eyes twinkling.
Spike released her wrist and nodded. "Glad to hear it. So, then, what's the big deal about it being Sanskrit?"
Willow pulled the computer from the case and set it on her knees. "A couple of the Analects passages are in Sanskrit," she told him as she raised the monitor and turned it on.
"I thought you didn't know how to fit all that together?"
"I don't. Not yet." Spike opened his mouth but her voice cut him off. "Aha! Sanskrit entry."
"What are you doing over there if you can't translate it, and you can't look anything up?" Spike asked curiously.
"Making note of where it is," Willow said with a shrug. "This way I can go right to it once I know how to use it."
"Any progress on that yet?"
"It's slow going," she confessed. "I haven't had much time to work on it, what with the spell books I've been looking into, and the fact that I'm driving most of the time or trying to sleep."
By the time dawn came around, Willow had long since put the computer aside and fallen to sleep. Spike roused her with little time to spare for him to shut himself in the back.
Once there, he added his blood to Angel's and Drusilla's, then carefully lifted Dev's head and fed her. "She been in much pain?"
"Not really," Angel replied. "Willow's salve seems to be helping."
Spike crawled around Drusilla and Dev--once again Drusilla was plastered to their child--and sat next to Angel along the side of the van.
They talked for most of the day about nothing really important. It was just.conversation. The likes of which Spike hadn't participated in for longer than he cared to admit. And he found that talking with Angel was actually nicer than talking with Angelus, since Angel didn't stick to murder and mayhem alone, the way Angelus did. Not that Spike didn't mind talk of M&M, but it did get rather monotonous after a decade or two.
The two debated at length about literature, for example, Spike's cynical disgust clashing mightily with Angel's romantic sentimentality. By the time that discussion was over, Angel had been growling--another perfect ten--and the sun had set.
Par for the course, Willow found and then checked them into a motel. They did the standard unloading routine, then fed Dev once again. There was no need for another blood run, so Spike assumed they'd be staying put in the motel, Willow getting some sleep and the rest of them just sort of hanging around.
Instead, Angel stopped Willow as she began to unpack her computer. "Not tonight," he said, shaking his head. "Tonight, we're going out. Drusilla, will you stay here with Dev?"
"Of course," Drusilla agreed immediately, her eyes gleaming.
Stubborn to the end, Willow refused. "I don't want to."
"Tough," Spike announced, realizing what it was about. He took Willow by the wrist and pulled her towards the bathroom. He snagged her suitcase on the way and dumped it into the tiled room. "Go put something snazzy on. We'll be waiting."
She was so bemused by the suddenness of it all that Spike got her into the bathroom, and shut the door on her, before she could say anything further. A few moments later he heard the shower running.
Angel picked up the van keys, which Willow had dropped on the desk, and tossed them at Spike. "Lock the laptop in the back of the van. Keep a hold of the keys."
When Willow came back into the room, her eyes immediately narrowed on the empty desk. Her brows lifted as she turned to Angel. "You mean business, don't you?"
Angel dipped his head in acknowledgement and smiled. "Everyone's had some time away from it, except you."
"I can manipulate locks, you know," she reminded them.
But the glint in her green eyes belied her words. Spike snorted disdainfully. "Yeah, yeah, and you can fling me around like a rag doll." He rolled his yes. "All very cute. Now get your shoes on and prove you can do something impressive, like have fun." He ran his eyes over her dark blue jeans and some kind of matching tank-top/sweater thing. "You consider that snazzy?" he asked disapprovingly.
"No, mainly because I'm under the age of ninety and don't use that word," Willow retorted smartly. "Besides, I didn't bring all that much and what's wrong with what I'm wearing?" she asked, looking down.
Spike didn't say anything, thinking it obvious. He saw Angel eye her critically. "Lose the sweater," Angel suggested. "And.poof your breasts."
Willow gaped at him. "Poof my breasts? What the heck does that mean?"
Angel gestured at his own chest with his hands, curling them around an imaginary set of breasts. "You know, that thing that women do." She raised an eyebrow. "Like when you were pretending to be the Willow vampire." He gestured again, pulling his hands up and out. "Poof."
Spike howled hysterically, doubling over. "More than two centuries old, and over a year with the cheerleader," he gasped, "and that's the best you can come up with? Poof her breasts?"
"That's it, I'm not going," Willow declared stubbornly.
"Spike."
He looked up, still laughing, to see Angel staring at him in consternation, utterly lost as to how to proceed. He knew what Angel was doing: fulfilling his duty. Trying to get Willow to loosen up for the night, to be forced to forget about everything else. Even if that meant making her incredibly uncomfortable.
"Oh, fine," Spike said, pushing his laughter aside.
He strode over to Willow and walked a circle around her. She didn't have a chance to move, much less prevent it, when Spike brought his hands to the back of her shoulders and yanked the sweater down and off.
"Hey!" she squealed, attempting to grab the sweater back from him. Spike tossed it in the corner of the room and frowned at her. Drusilla expressed her approval by clapping and laughing, watching them with wide eyes.
"Aren't those jeans supposed to be three inches lower on your waist?"
"NO! They're where--"
"That's better," Spike said in satisfaction, removing his fingers from the belt loops in her jeans. He smacked her hands away when she tried to pull them back up. "Stop it, now. You shouldn't have bought them if you weren't going to wear them properly," he lectured.
"I *didn't* buy them, darn it!" she snapped, glaring at him for all she was worth. "Buffy did, and I didn't realize I'd packed them."
Spike met Angel's eyes and they shared a grin. Yep, she was definitely not thinking about databases or spells.
"What's the matter, anyway?" Spike asked, circling her again. "You stopped dressing like a frump last year."
"The big deal," Willow hissed, moving with him so that she could keep that glare of hers firmly planted on him, "is that 'poofing my breasts' and putting my belly-button on display isn't appropriate for this little adventure of ours."
Uh-oh. Angel stepped in. "Willow, I don't think you understand," Angel said quietly, firmly. "You don't have a choice. You're going to go out, you're going to forget everything for a little while, and you're going to have fun."
Willow spun on her heel and transferred her glare from Spike to Angel. Spike took advantage of having Willow's back presented to him, and hooked his fingers under the thin straps of the tank top, jerking them towards him and effectively snapping them from the shirt itself.
One of her hands flew to her chest to keep the shirt up, and the other pressed to her forehead. "You're not supposed to team up on me," she groaned miserably. "I can't handle both of you."
"Pet, you can't handle either of us," Spike laughed.
She raised her head slowly and twisted, staring back and forth between Spike and Angel. "I should just give up, shouldn't I?" she said dejectedly. They nodded and she sighed hugely, finally defeated. "And what am I supposed to do for a shirt now?"
"Just fold the front of it under," Spike instructed. "Then pull the straps under your arms and tie them at your back."
She fumbled a bit, and had to turn her back to them to preserve her modesty. Drusilla peered at her with unconcealed interest, but Willow just told her to stop being a peeping-tom.
Her hands met at her back, just to the side of her armpits, but she couldn't tie the straps properly. Spike was considering what she would do if he tried to help her when Angel crossed the room and took the straps from her, expertly tying a knot, then hiding it with a bow.
"There. All set," he said, stepping back.
"First I get to sleep between the two of you, then you dress me," Willow drawled as she turned around, blushing slightly. "No one would believe it even if I was going to tell them."
"So, let's review," Angel said blandly. "What are you going to do tonight?"
Willow's lips twisted. "I'm going to go out, apparently with the male half of the Scourge of Europe, forget about everything, and have fun," she recited dutifully, mirth making her eyes shimmer.
Angel nodded approvingly.
"Right then, off we go," Spike declared.
Outside, Angel informed Spike and Willow that they were going to a bar. One that served food and offered dancing. Situated just off the highway as they were, bars were abundant, and it didn't take them long to find one that met Angel's requirements. Spike pulled into the parking lot, wincing at the sign.
*Billy Bob's--Karaoke Every Thursday*
The wince changed to a shiver of apprehension when he realized that he had no bloody idea what day it was. His fear was confirmed a second later when Willow, who was squished between the two front seats, squealed with delight.
"Karaoke! Oh, and it's tonight!"
He sent a murderous glare at Angel, who just tilted his head down and smiled slightly at Willow. "We don't have much time," he reminded her. "Only about an hour or so. Better make it count."
She moved to her knees and bounced excitedly. "I don't actually sing, I just like to watch. Let me out. Do you think they have ribs? I'd kill for some ribs."
Angel had barely stepped out of the van before Willow was scrambling out after him, her earlier reluctance to unwind nowhere in sight. She bounded ahead, turning back to motion at them to hurry.
"I'll just wait out here," Spike said casually.
Angel ducked his head back in the van. "I'm not suffering alone. Get out."
"Fine," Spike huffed, turning the engine off and jerking the key out of the ignition. He exited the van and slammed the door shut. Angel crossed in front of the van and they started walking. "But I'm not going to have fun," Spike spat, "and don't expect me to not complain."
Angel clapped Spike on the back and grinned. "I'm counting on both those things," he said cryptically.
***
Willow grinned widely at the cramped corner where the Karaoke machine was set up, and tried to guess what the next participant was gong to sing. They had come at the end of an intermission, so while she had had the chance to order the much-craved ribs, she had yet to be subject to the entertainment.
"I bet she goes with.Dancing Queen," Willow told Spike and Angel. "Oh! Or maybe Pat Benitar; she's got that eighties hair going. What do you think?"
"I think I'd rather be back in Harris' basement, tied to that bloody recliner," Spike snapped, taking a swig of his drink.
Willow stuck her tongue out at him and turned to Angel, who just looked at her blankly. "Oh, forget it," Willow griped, turning back to the stage. The first notes of "Stand By Your Man" emanated from the Karaoke machine, and she slapped her forehead. "I should've known. That was country hair, not eighties hair."
"Stake me now," Spike moaned theatrically.
Willow slapped his arm without looking away. "Hush! You're being rude."
The short woman, with the hair that Willow thought might be as tall as she was, started singing. Very, very badly. As she squeaked past a particularly high note, Willow screamed and clapped along with half a dozen other patrons.
"Stop encouraging the bint!" Spike exploded, panic in his voice. "She might sing again."
"That's the point," Willow said absently. "And didn't I tell you to shut up?"
"What do you mean, that's the point? She sounds like cat in heat. I'm half- tempted to tear her vocal chords out as a public service."
"No," Willow heard Angel said immediately.
"Damn."
Willow screamed again, then cut a glance at Spike. "It takes a lot of nerve to get up there, *especially* if you can't sing. I'm applauding her chutzpah. And you're breaking the Cardinal Rule," she added, clapping some more. "Thou shalt not mock, unless thou has the...stones to sing."
Willow met his eyes and waved at the Karaoke machine in an invitation. Spike set his drink down carefully and leaned forward, his eyes hard. "A cold day in Hell," he said succinctly.
Willow leaned towards him as well, mimicking the look on his face right down to the sneer. "Then knock it off," she replied in kind. Then she had the strangest urge, which she decided to indulge, since this was just a dream and Spike didn't hate her. She tweaked his nose.
He stopped cursing at her only when Angel slapped his hand over Spike's mouth when the waitress came. Willow sat up smugly while Spike glared balefully at her.
"Children," Angel chided.
Spike shoved Angel's hand from his face and lit a cigarette. Willow blinked innocently and focused on the huge plate of ribs in front of her. She chased them with a soda, pausing her feast only to applaud and whoop it up for the latest singer. Spike's sneering commentary was non-stop, and Willow tuned most of it out, only chastising him once or twice.
Sometime around a not-too-bad rendition of "Sweet Home Alabama", featuring four very drunk pot-bellied men, Angel tapped Willow on the shoulder and then pointed at the door.
Spike flew to his feet. "'Bout bloody time."
Willow was much slower to push her chair back and stand. As much as she really hadn't wanted to go out, she had to admit that it had been a good idea.
Spike was already at the van by the time Willow and Spike came through the door of the bar. Willow tossed Angel a brief glance. "Thanks."
"I'm glad you had fun," Angel replied softly. Willow looked up and saw that he was staring at a point in the distance.
"What's up?" Willow inquired.
Angel blinked and shook his head. "Not a thing."
She didn't believe that, so she searched his eyes. Either he really was just fine, or hiding it rather well. He stopped walking, and Willow came to a halt as well, raising her eyebrows curiously.
"Despite what you said, I don't think you understand all the implications of." He drifted off, then started again, this time with more certainty. "What I've done with Spike and Dru, it puts me in a position of authority."
Willow nodded slowly, having no idea where he was going. "I picked up on that, actually."
Angel sliced his hand through the air, negating her statement. "It's more than what you've seen, Willow. They've basically accepted me as their sire again for the duration of this. Do you know what that means?" he asked steadily.
Not wanting to admit that she'd eavesdropped on him and Spike, and deciding that she wanted some clarification beyond even what she'd overheard, Willow shook her head.
"It means," Angel explained seriously, "that I am one hundred percent responsible for them, in every way imaginable. They've put their lives, and their emotional well-being, in my hands."
"You're like a father and a guide and a leader, all rolled into one," Willow said with a nod.
Angel frowned in surprise. "Well, yes, and that isn't in the Watchers' journals," he added suspiciously. Willow just shrugged and tried to keep the guilt off her face. He narrowed his eyes and continued. "To do all of that, I've had to make some internal adjustments to--"
"I get that," Willow interrupted. "You've had to revert a bit. But why are you telling me this? At this particular moment?"
"You were listening from the van last night," Angel said suddenly, giving her a chastising look. "That's why you were in a better mood when you came to the room."
"You were being kind of loud," Willow hedged.
Angel rolled his eyes. "We were not--"
Spike's impatient voice, from the middle of the small parking lot, cut him off. "Hey, hurry it up!"
"Come on," Angel said, taking her arm. "I'll explain it when we're on the road again."
A mere hour later they had fed Dev one more time, checked out of the motel and started on their way. Angel was driving this time, and Willow was sitting in the passenger seat, still curious about what Angel had been trying to tell her earlier.
"So, explain," she urged as they merged onto the highway.
"Vampires are insular," Angel began. "Not just from other species, but from each other."
"You guys probably more so, I would guess," Willow interrupted.
Angel shot her a probing look. "Why do you say that?"
"Just something I was thinking about after I heard you and Spike," she confessed. "The Watchers' journals only have two or three other documented cases of vampires sticking together like you all did. In a way that's not master/minion," she clarified. "That connection made you more powerful as a whole, which means that those who didn't just avoid you like the plague probably tried to take you down."
Angel nodded slowly. "You're right. There was us, and then there was everyone else. Not only because of the circumstances you mentioned, but because that's just how vampires are. No one else exists or matters, and I mean no one."
"So, what you're saying is that because you're being their sire again, you're starting to think like that again?" Angel nodded, and Willow frowned. "If that's the case, then what went on tonight? Because, if I understand this correctly, then you shouldn't have bothered. You know, with the getting me out thing."
"Exactly," Angel said clearly. "If you just happened to be around during all of this, it wouldn't have mattered that you needed a break."
Willow rubbed her forehead. What she wouldn't give for someone who didn't talk in circles before getting to the point. "I *do* just happen to be around," she reminded him in consternation.
"No, you're here to save Dev," Angel said gravely. "That makes you *one* of us."
Willow turned that over in her head for a long moment. "I'm entitled to the benefits that go along with being in your little family," she said with surprise, then bit her lip and shook her head. "Nothing really changes though. You've always protected me, Angel."
"Yes, I have, but it's not just about keeping you safe. It's even more than what I do with Cordy and Wes. I have to take care of you in every way that I do the others, mentally, emotionally and physically. But it's not just me. We're talking about a power structure here, Willow," Angel went on to say. "I'm at the top and right now you--and Dev, of course--are at the bottom. Looking out for you in all ways is the job of everyone who's higher on the pyramid."
A light went on in Willow's head. Drusilla's behavior suddenly made a great deal of sense. Everything Drusilla had done had stemmed from what Angel had just said and not, as Willow had assumed, from what Dev had done.
"Then tonight wasn't about Spike liking me," she mused.
"Sorry, but no," Angel said wryly. "We're in crisis mode, so that really doesn't count for much at the moment."
"Okay, what's my responsibility to all of you, then?" Willow asked curiously. At Angel's sharp look she added, "It *is* give and take, right?"
He laughed a bit self-depracatingly, Willow thought. "Yeah, yeah it is. Beyond what you're already doing for Dev, a large part is doing for us what we do for you. More importantly than that, it's letting *us* do for *you*." He shot a stern look at her. "Is this making sense?"
Willow didn't answer right away because her throat was thick. Swallowing back the lump, she replied, "Yes."
"Good. I've never really had to explain this to someone," he said awkwardly. "Anyway, the specific reason I'm telling you is because you're going to have it tossed at you, most of the time without anyone saying that's why they're doing something."
He tossed her a rueful look, and raised one brow.
"That fight with Spike?" she asked incredulously, staring at him. "That fight was about this? But he was so nasty!"
Angel nodded. "The.imperative--it doesn't mean being nice and polite all the time."
"But, come one!" Willow cried out. "He was really mean, Angel. I can't believe he had some kind of ulterior--"
"Did he make his point?" Angel interrupted. She remained stubbornly quiet. "Because I think he did. I think that's why you dismissed me when I tried to apologize to you later, and I think that's why you were able to have fun tonight."
"Still," she grumbled. "He could have been a little nice."
Angel flashed her a smile. "When isn't he some level of rude, Willow?"
Her lips twitched, and he noticed. His hand reached out and smoothed the back of her hair, turning her head so that she met his eyes. "Just let go a little bit," he said quietly. "Let us take care of you as much as you've been trying to take care of us."
A small smile and he was facing the road again. Willow chewed her lip and leaned her head against the window next to her.
Angel let the discussion falter then, and Willow stared out the window while she pondered all that she'd learned that night. As with everything else that had transpired recently, Willow found herself with as many new questions as answers.
***
When they stopped, Spike wasn't surprised to see Willow dig in to her books after Dev was fed. No doubt the night off had made her feel guilty. Shaking his head, he turned on the television and started flipping through the channels. Dev had already been taken care of, and Angel and Drusilla had gone out that evening.
"Why don't you take advantage of the empty bed?" Spike said as he sat next to Dev and used the remote to turn the television on.
"I can't," Willow responded. "I want to try something on Dev. Wanna help?"
Spike turned his head slowly and stared at her. "What?"
She left the desk and approached him, tired and weary, moving slower than normal, but still with that bright spark of knowledge in her eyes. "An unveiling spell," she said, standing next to him. "It should show me what made the healing spell bounce back."
Spike rolled his eyes. "Do you even remember puking on yourself the last damned time you tried working mojo on her?" he asked sarcastically.
Willow frowned. "Uh, no. I puked? Really?" she asked, looking a little grossed out. "Yuck, never mind. Don't want the details." She shivered with distaste, then plowed on. "This spell isn't on Dev, it's on me. It'll.allow me to see whatever magic's been worked on her."
"You're not doing it."
"What? Why not?" Willow exclaimed angrily.
"You can wait until Angel gets back," Spike snapped.
Willow glared at him and planted her hands on her hips. "But--"
"Angel already explained it to you," Spike interrupted with a shrug. "You hurt yourself on my watch, and I get it taken out of my hide. If Angel's here, then it's on his shoulders."
He reached out a lazy hand and shoved her backwards. She toppled onto the empty bed, looking stunned. "So just take a nap or watch the telly until he gets back."
"It's not dangerous or anything," she insisted, scrambling to her knees and folding her arms across her chest.
"Save the persuasive arguments for Angel," Spike advised sarcastically.
"Can't I just--"
"No."
"What if--"
"No."
"You're whipped."
Spike lowered the remote and turned his head slowly to stare at her. Damn, but she had a knack for saying just the right thing to infuriate him. "Shut the bloody hell up," he told her dangerously.
"Fine," Willow snapped, flouncing back on the bed and pouting. "I just don't see why I need permission to do something I want to do."
"Because you have to, all right?" Spike growled. "That's the way it works. So get used to it already. I swear you're the most pig-headed bint on the planet."
He flipped through the channels again, unconcerned, and Willow continued sulking until Angel and Drusilla returned an hour later. Drusilla went immediately to Dev, sitting on the floor on the other side of the bed and cooing softly at their child.
"We were hardly gone," Angel groaned when he got a good look at Willow and Spike.
"Will thinks she can just do whatever the hell she wants," Spike bit out, glaring at her again. She squirmed and shrugged, looking down. "Doesn't care that it could mean I get the shit kicked out of me."
"I didn't say that," Willow protested indignantly.
"Yes you did," Angel countered, and Spike saw the surprised look she gave Angel. "If you tried to do something you knew get Spike in trouble then you said just that."
Willow looked distinctly uncomfortable, but still angry. Spike understood it was rather alien to her, this type of situation, but she was being more stubborn than she needed to be. Perhaps a different tactic...
Spike swung his legs off the bed and leaned towards her. She held out a few long moments, then looked at him. "Your responsibilities," Spike hissed, "include not getting one of us in trouble because of your stubbornness. Got it?"
She blinked, and Spike could see that it was working. Her eyes widened dramatically and her mouth opened infinitesimally. "Oh," she said smally. "I, uh, didn't look at it that way."
Spike rolled his eyes. "You can say that again."
"What is it you wanted to do?" Angel asked, effectively switching tracks.
"An unveiling spell," Willow said quietly. "It would allow me to see what kind of magic was done on Dev."
"What does it involve?" Angel asked immediately, taking off his coat and focusing on her.
Spike listened as she went into detail, glad to see that she was no longer puffed up with righteous anger. Instead, she was hesitant, docile, and she was blushing slightly--a sure sign she knew she'd been in the wrong. Good. Maybe she'd be a little more considerate of his hide.
Angel eventually agreed to let Willow attempt the spell, after a great many probing questions, only if Wesley agreed it might work. Spike saw the frown that marred Willow's face when Angel called Wesley.
"He doesn't doubt you," Spike told her grudgingly. "If the situation was different, he wouldn't even have questioned you." Spike shrugged and gave her a direct look. "But now you're more than just the Slayer's best pal, more than his friend. He has to be more vigilant about things. For your own good."
She looked down quickly, and Spike tilted his head, considering her. Yes, it wasn't something she was used to, but why was it so hard for her to accept? Then he remembered just how little interest the families in Sunnydale showed for their kids, what with being so caught up in the "la la nothing's strange in our town" denial. As for the Slayer and friends, well, they all tended to take big risks with themselves for the greater good, and were eager to believe each other when they all downplayed the risks.
That's why Willow was uncomfortable. She wasn't used to someone keeping her more in mind than the greater good.
Spike reached across the divide between the beds and tapped her on the arm, garnering her attention again. "If it came down to me, Dru or Dev," Spike put forth, "Angel would have to pick all, and he couldn't allow any of us to choose the others. That's what it all comes down to at the end of the night. All of us, not just some of us."
Willow frowned, "Is that why you wouldn't consider the restoration ritual?" she ventured hesitantly.
"Exactly. Especially considering it's Dev," he added as an afterthought. "The soul would rip her to shreds if we sacrificed ourselves for her."
Nodding slowly, Willow sighed. "I'm sorry," she offered. "There's all these other things to take into consideration and I just."
"Shut up," Spike dismissed. "You found out about this, what? Twelve hours ago? No one expects you to comprehend every last detail. Just listen when we try to explain," he added facetiously.
"Check," Willow said wryly. "Listen to what Spike says. Oh, that'll be easy."
Spike curled his lip and reached out yet again, this time to pinch her arm. "You're too cheeky for your own good," he snipped. "Best remember to respect your elders."
Her eyes picked up a bright gleam and Spike groaned, knowing she was going to display the cheek again. "Anytime I'm not sure how to respond, I'll just think.what would Spike say?" she quipped.
Spike lowered his brows and curled his lip. "Bugger off," he groused, but he was amused nonetheless. Bloody hell, she was quicker to adapt than most.
"Okay," Angel announced, and Spike looked his way. "Go ahead, Willow."
Spike sought out Angel's eyes, and the elder vampire nodded reassuringly. Apparently he was at ease with what Willow was going to attempt. Spike looked to Drusilla, who was already watching him, a quiet smile on her full lips.
Willow gathered some things from her trunk, Spike watching like a hawk. There was sand, some herbs, a bit of Latin, and then Willow nodded her head.
"It's done," she told them.
***
It was altogether surreal, was Willow's first thought after the spell was completed. With wonder, she looked around herself. Everything was muted and highlighted at the same time and she seemed to be moving faster than everyone else. Or maybe she was as much in slow motion as they appeared to be.
"--ou all right?"
The voice seemed to be coming from a distance, and she looked up and saw Angel standing in front of her, looking concerned. He was doused in a black smoke that moved as he did, but from his stomach protruded a dazzling bundle of colors, all dark and angry looking, and wrapping tentacles around something white and beautiful, pressing it against Angel's stomach.
"Willow?"
His voice was still as far away as before, but Willow could hear the worry. She smiled reassuringly and looked around. Spike and Dru were doused in the same black fog. Which meant the black was the vampire aspect. The other stuff in Angel, that had to be the Gypsy curse.
"--sure you--this?"
She'd missed half of what Angel had actually said, but she knew what he meant. "I'm sure," Willow replied, her own voice sounding to ears as though it was playing back from a tape recording.
Ignoring Dev for a moment more, Willow went to the bathroom, knowing Angel was following, and looked in the mirror, seeing reflected in the glass the unveiling spell. That she had expected. What was unexpected was the other thing.the root-like strands that were wrapped around her, from the crown of her head all the way down to the top of her chest, which was all she could see in the mirror.
Brushing past Angel, Willow left the bathroom and went to the foot of Dev's bed, keeping her eyes downcast for the moment. She wanted the full experience of it at once. Taking a breath, Willow lifted her eyes and focused on Dev.
The black was there, of course. Unlike Angel, however, Dev's soul--the beautiful white glow--wasn't being clutched to her by something unnatural. Instead, it was dispersed amid the fog, the two intertwining all around her form. Interesting. Willow let her gaze go a bit unfocused, trying to see anything that was outside of Dev, around even the black and white of her being.
It took a few moments, but then it came into focus. A whorl of red that surrounded Dev like a bubble, swirling around. Willow walked around the bed, studying it from every angle. It seemed battered and worn in some areas, the black/white of Dev bleeding through prominently in some areas. That was why it was shifting; it was moving the vulnerable spots constantly so that they couldn't be pinned down.
Willow frowned. There were too many threadbare areas. Her one assault shouldn't have damaged it so much, and in so many different areas. In fact, as it moved again, Willow could see exactly where she'd "punched" it, as the spot was marked by the same roots that had covered her reflection. So then what had caused the rest of the damage? Was Dev actually attacking it from the inside?
Narrowing her eyes, Willow thought about it. If Dev had similar powers to Drusilla, and had been able to actually take control of Willow herself, who was to say that she didn't have the ability to launch an attack on what was blocking her.
Shifting her gaze again, Willow sought out the black/white that was Dev, then looked past it this time, seeing what was inherent in Dev beyond the vampire with a soul thing. When it appeared, Willow frowned yet again. It didn't make sense. She could suddenly see Dev's magic on her, and it was the same red that was surrounding her.
Willow pulled her sight back and studied the red bubble, noticing now that the worn patches were in shades of dark purple, and that they were reaching outwards for something. Trying to find what? More of itself? But why were they stopping just several feet away from Dev rather than extending as far out as they wanted?
Sucking in a deep breath, Willow had a thought. She spun on her heel and shoved past the vampires, going back to the mirror in the bathroom. In the mirror, she stared at the roots that were threaded through the pale green of the unveiling spell. She grabbed a surprised Angel and stared at the soul magic. There, along the tentacles. Roots.
Back to Dev's side, where Willow considered the dark purple patches, and saw how they were being pulled on by the red.
A small bit of Willow's magic was entwined with the unveiling spell and the restoration spell because she'd performed them, but what if she'd pushed outwards in desperation, thrust her magic protectively around her? Wouldn't it then be just the roots and nothing else? With that, it all fell into place.
"Oh my God," Willow breathed.
***