A/N: italics are dreams regular italics are thoughts. Disclaimer still in effect.
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Chapter 28: Confrontations
Willow moaned in her sleep. She was dreaming about that night. The night she had been shot. Onstage, about to finish her set, something caught her eye. What was it? She thrashed as she slept. Move, twist, bend and roll, yeah, move like that. Collect tips, let the guys enjoy the show, then go home to Oz. Willow moaned again and Oz stirred in his sleep beside her hospital bed. Look around the club, laugh and smile. Smile, but someone doesn't smile back. What's wrong? Why won't you smile? Now Willow began to thrash violently. Her legs and arms jerked around and awoke Oz. He rolled to his side and watched as Willow's face contorted and she cried out.
The images assaulted Willow faster and more intensely. Dancing onstage. Lights in my eyes. Reflection. Not from the bar, off something else. A gun! Someone has a gun! Raise an arm and point. Who is it? Who is it? It's you! Why? Why are you doing this? Willow was screaming, in her dream as well as in her sleep. High-pitched and bloodcurdling, it reverberated down the entire hallway.
Oz desperately tried to wake Willow. "Baby, wake up. Willow. Willow, honey wake up. Come on baby, open your eyes." He shook her, but nothing happened.
Willow continued to cry out in her sleep. No! No! Why? Why are you doing this? Lights flash, reflections wink, men yell. Over it, the music is loud and pulsating. Over the music is her heart, pounding…gunshots. Is that my imagination? Screams and people yelling. Why are you yelling? Running, and…pain. Burning pain in her stomach. And blood. Blood all over, so much blood. Red hands, mine or yours? Whose hands? Whose blood?
Whimpers and animals mewls escaped the red-haired girl as Oz continued his effort to wake her. He finally gave up and ran toward the nurse's station. "I can't get Willow to wake up."
The nurses looked at one another. It was the most that the blue-haired man had ever said. Grabbing her chart, one nurse started to the room while another paged a doctor.
In the room, Willow convulsed on the bed. Lost in the throes of a nightmare that wouldn't let her go. Falling. Pain. Darkness. See you. Why did you do it? A smirk as she falls. That face, know that face. Don't forget. Darkness again.
A doctor flew into Willow's room. Her screaming was subsiding to moans, and the convulsing was slowing. The doctor looked at the nurses and shook his head. Nothing to do now. Oz pushed his was through the white-coated personnel and dropped to
Willow's side. "Baby?" he said questioningly.
Willow felt herself rising from the darkness. Oz. Oz is here. What is he saying? She pushed herself harder and rose faster. Light, not dark. What was I dreaming about? She opened her eyes and looked directly into Oz's worried face. "Baby?" she asked, reaching out a hand.
Oz had an expression of relief. Grasping her hand, he brought it to his face. "Willow."
"Oz," she said weakly. "What happened?"
"Nightmare," he replied.
Willow frowned as flashes of her dream came back. Something was bothering her, again. A face. A familiar face. There was something significant about the face, something she needed to remember. But, try as she might, Willow could not recall the face or the reason why it was so important to remember it. The memories drifted to the back of her subconscious as she cuddled with Oz.
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"Buffy, get your bleedin' arse down here. Right now!" Spike yelled from his kitchen.
"Coming," Buffy called from the bedroom.
"Really?" Spike asked.
Buffy walked into the kitchen and smacked him in the head. "That's for any insult that you were thinking. Lewd comments too."
Spike smirked. "Lewd thoughts are all I ever have, luv."
Buffy rolled her eyes and tried not to laugh. "What do you want?"
Spike looked at her. "Huh?"
"Just now, you yelled at me. What do you want?" Buffy asked.
"You know exactly what I want. Help. This was your idea, dinner. Now, I'm cooking and you're just sitting on your bum," Spike said.
"But, you know I can't cook," Buffy pouted.
As tempting as it was, Spike resisted nipping her bottom lip. Barely. "Not gonna work, pet. Suck it up and get in here. I'll tell you what to do."
The next hour was spent in the kitchen. Buffy really wasn't kidding when she said she couldn't cook. Spike was amazed, the girl could barely boil water without an apocalypse occurring. When Xander and Anya arrived, Spike sent her out of the kitchen to talk with them. Minutes after Buffy left the kitchen, Xander walked in. Spike looked at him and raised an eyebrow.
"Outnumbered and told to help you," Xander explained.
"Not necessary," Spike replied. "You cooked last week."
"Technically, all I did was supervising. Besides, there's nothing more manly than aprons and cooking." Xander joked.
Spike laughed. Xander took over Buffy's uncompleted task of chopping vegetables for a salad. The men worked in comfortable silence until they head feminine laughter emanate from the living room. Sharing a look of horror, Xander and Spike headed to the living room.
In the living room, Buffy was laughing so hard that tears ran down her face. Anya's blunt conversation was disconcerting at first, then refreshing. The woman didn't hold anything sacred. Sex had come up, as it usually does. Anya shared a particularly embarrassing story about Xander and a pair of handcuffs with a missing key. And the firefighters that had to release him.
When the men made it to the living room, Buffy was rolling on the ground, laughing and holding her sides. Anya, on the other hand, had a very smug, satisfied look on her face. Xander knew this didn't bode well for him.
He sighed and sat next to Anya. "What did you tell her now?"
Anya's smiled widened. "Nothing bad. Well, nothing too bad. Just about the handcuffs-"
Xander slapped a hand over her mouth before she continued the story. He looked at the other couple. Buffy was still giggling, and Spike had an amused expression on his face. Xander gave another resigned sigh. He uncovered Anya's mouth and the entire story tumbled out. Now Spike was the one laughing.
Xander threw up his hand in defeat. Anya smiled, oblivious to Xander's discomfort. She looked at the two men. "Now, you two have to go back into the kitchen. The rules of female bonding dictate that Buffy reciprocate my story with one of her own, and she can't when you two are in here."
Spike stood up quickly. "Now, wait just a minute. There's no bloody way I'm gonna let you two sit here and-"
Xander cut him off. "There is no force on this Earth greater than Anya; you're just wasting your breath. C'mon, let's finish dinner."
Spike's mouth continued to flop open and close as Xander pulled him from the living room. Buffy gave them a little wave, and then turned back to Anya. "So, there was this one time-"
The window above her shattered. Glass rained down everywhere, covering the girls with razor sharp shards. Buffy cried out as her hands and arms were nicked by the falling glass. Anya rolled away from the window, yelling for Xander. Crimson blood stained Spike's carpeting as Buffy crawled toward Anya. The second window exploded and more glass shards covered Buffy. She felt one nick her face. Blood ran down her forehead and into her eye. She swiped a hand across it, only to add more blood to her face from her hand. A shadow fell over her, and she heard Anya scream. Buffy looked up and saw a figured clothed completely in black perched on the windowsill.
Buffy screamed. Fear washed though her like a hot tidal wave, paralyzing her limbs and panicking her brain. Anya scuttled to her side and tried to urge her away from the window. The intruder bounded into the room and threw Anya back. She flew across the room and crashed into Spike's entertainment center. She moaned and then stopped moving.
Dimly, Buffy heard Spike and Xander yelling. She watched in slow motion as the person moved toward her. A hand moved, and a rose appeared in front of her face. The person bent down and Buffy shrank away. But Buffy wasn't struck or touched in any way. The intruder ran arose down her face and across her neck. A gloved hand reached out to touch her. Buffy held her breath and tried to force her frightened body to obey her commands and move. It wouldn't. Then, the intruder was gone.
Spike had taken a flying leap and tackled the person. His heart was pumping fast, both from fear and fury. His bruising fists pummeled the intruder. Then, he was on his back and the man in black disappeared through the broken window. Spike leaped through the window. He looked around, but whoever had broken in was gone.
Spike stalked back inside and assessed the damage. Xander cradled Anya's head to his body. Anya's eyes were open, and a nasty bruise was blossoming over her forehead. She appeared to be fine, so Spike looked for Buffy. His heart almost stopped when he saw her.
She was in the middle of his living room, the rose and note in her lap. Blood covered her face and hands. A small cut marred her forehead, just above her right eye. Smudges of dried blood covered her cheeks. She stared down at her hands, then back up and Spike. Her eyes were wide and vacant. They locked with Spike's and tears began to glisten. Spike stumbled forward and wrapped his arms around her. He rocked her back and forth while tears streamed down her cheeks.
"Shh, baby. Don't cry, luv. It's all over, you're okay now," Spike murmured to her. He stroked her hair and rubbed her back.
Buffy finally stopped crying. She wiped her face and wrapped her arms around Spike. She took a moment to enjoy the embrace, and then broke away. Slowly, she stood up and surveyed the damage done to the living room. Anger worked it way through her terror. Anger at whoever was doing this to her and her friends. People were getting hurt, all because of her. Anya, Willow, who was next? Her mom? A.J? Buffy had enough. She was going to put and end to this, somehow.
Her eyes were cold, her expression hard. "Call your father right now," she said to Spike. "Tell him to get his ass over here, immediately."
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A/N: Until next time, my pretties.
