***
Part 2
As Spike stomped along the corridor, his feet made no sound and his leather duster didn't creak. Willow stifled a giggle at his apparent mime routine. He scowled at her and she coughed to conceal her amusement. It seemed he was upset for an entirely different reason, however.
"Buffy too busy to come with you, huh?"
Caught off guard, Willow blurted, "No...I mean, yeah, she's real busy, what with training slayers and looking after Dawn."
He didn't look at her. "S'okay. I understand. You don't have to make excuses for her."
"I'm not." She stopped dead. A second later Spike realised she wasn't beside him and turned to face her. "She wanted to come, Spike, she really did. But--"
"I get it. She had better things to do," he said, his voice bitter. Before she could contradict him Spike gestured to a door a little further down the corridor and faded through the wall.
Well, that was rude. Shaking her head, Willow headed to the door. When she entered she found a laboratory filled with people. The brightly lit, sterile environment reminded her of the Initiative labs and she couldn't help the shiver that thrummed down her spine. She hoped they weren't putting together any freaky Adam-like creatures here.
"Willow!" Fred rushed towards her, grinning madly.
Happy to see a friendly face, Willow greeted her with a hug. "Hey, Fred."
"Thanks for coming," said Fred as she led the way to a less crowded corner of the lab.
"No big. It's good to know someone's glad to see me." Willow slanted a pointed look at Spike, who was already waiting for them.
"Hey, now. I'm glad to see you," he said, making a big show of looking insulted.
She pursed her mouth. "Only cause you want me to mojo you back into your body so you can go beat something up."
"Too bloody right I do." Clasping his hands, Spike began bouncing up and down on his toes. "So let's get down to brass tacks, luv. What do we do?"
Willow hopped onto a stool. "Well, first, Fred fills me in on her research." She looked expectantly at the brunette.
Fred lost her smile. "I don't know a whole lot, actually. Near as I can tell, Spike is...out of phase, like he's trapped between dimensions. Nothing I've tried has had any effect, so I'd say the cause is probably of the mystical variety."
"Makes sense. What does Wesley say?"
A pink blush tinted Fred's cheeks. "He's been researching the amulet, but so far--nada."
"Hmm."
"Hmm, what?" Spike said, quivering like wobbly jello.
"Hmm, let me think for a minute," said Willow, exasperated by his badgering. Superpowered or not, she wasn't omniscient.
"What's to think about? Just work your mojo and fix me."
"Spike, it's not that simple. I could accidentally sever whatever's holding you here and send you to the afterlife. Is that what you want?"
He froze and his form flickered. In the instant before he looked away, Willow could have sworn she saw terror in his eyes.
"Some witch you are," he said gruffly. "What's the point of coming here if you're not gonna do anything." Spike spun away and vanished through a wall.
"Don't worry," Fred said as she pulled herself onto a stool, "he'll be back when he's cooled down."
"Oh," said Willow, a trifle surprised by Fred's blase attitude. "Does he do that a lot?"
"Yep. If he ever gets solid again, he'll probably be walking into walls for a month," Fred said with a giggle. She peeked over her shoulder and leaned towards Willow. "To tell you the truth, I think he does it to hide how scared he is. He told me hell was trying to drag him in."
Willow stared at her. "Hell? But he died a hero."
Fred shrugged. "Maybe that wasn't enough to counter all the bad stuff."
"Maybe. But it still doesn't explain his newfound transparency." She tapped her fingernails on the smooth countertop, considering her next move. "Tell me about your experiments."
Fred nodded and reached for a nearby laptop. The next few hours whizzed by as the two women discussed Fred's hypotheses and attempts to restore Spike. When the phone rang, they both jumped a little. Fred answered it and handed the receiver to Willow. "It's Angel."
***
The restaurant was rather posh, furnished in tasteful if conservative dark colours. A piano melody tinkled in the background, setting a relaxed mood. Willow felt severely underdressed in her casual pants and suede jacket, and wished Angel had given her the opportunity to change. She half expected the polished maitre'd to summarily eject them from the restaurant, but instead he addressed Angel by name and escorted them to a table.
Her incredulity must have been obvious because Angel somewhat sheepishly explained, "This is where Wolfram & Hart wine and dine their important clients."
"Don't I feel special," Willow mumbled as the maitre'd seated her. Their table was hidden from the other diners by the strategic use of plants and decorative screens, creating the illusion of privacy. Probably comes in handy for Wolfram & Hart's more demony demons.
After approving Angel's wine selection and placing menus before them, the maitre'd slipped away. Willow studied the menu, pretending not to notice the awkward atmosphere. She and Angel tended to socialise only when either Buffy or the world was in peril.
A waiter brought a bottle of red wine, filled their glasses, and took their orders. Angel surprised her again by ordering a steak, and she wondered if he would actually eat it. As the waiter left, Angel gave her a tentative smile.
"So, how're things going?" he asked.
Willow shrugged. "Business as usual." She frowned. "It's like a slayer assembly line. They arrive at the academy, all untrained and malleable, we make 'em into fighting machines and ship them out."
Angel blinked. "Actually I meant...how're things with you?"
"Oh." Flustered, she sipped her wine to gather her thoughts. The alcohol warmed her stomach. "I'm doing good. Peachy, in fact."
Angel cocked his head. "You don't sound too certain about that."
"No, really, I'm fine," she said, aware that she was protesting way too much.
"Uh huh," he said, staring at her.
"All right! Stop with the third degree already." Her shoulders slumped. "I'm just...bored, that's all."
Angel squinted at her. "Bored?"
She shrugged. "We're overrun with slayers, so I don't need to fight demons any more. Xander and Dawn handle the newbies better than I could, Buffy and Kennedy are in charge of training, and Giles is organising a new Watcher's Council. Even Faith is doing important stuff; she can't really stay in one place, being a fugitive and all, so she's travelling around the world taking care of problem slayers. That leaves the oh-so-fascinating administrative details for me to deal with: digging through the Council's finances, arranging travel and accommodation, keeping track of where the trained slayers are sent. The fun that is my life never stops."
Angel's mouth twitched.
Willow waved a finger at him. "Don't you dare laugh, mister. It's not funny."
"No, not at all." A grin broke out on his face. "Sorry, I just wasn't expecting something so..."
"Trivial? Mundane?"
"Non-apocalyptic."
She smiled a little, despite herself. "I hate to say it, but I kinda miss the old days."
"I know what you mean. Things were a lot more simple then."
They shared a nostalgic moment, smiling at each other. Two veterans of the neverending war against evil. Loud laughter erupted from somewhere behind Willow and the moment was gone.
"So, how's your business going?" she asked.
"Same old, same old. Killing demons..." He cleared his throat. "Saving demons."
"Wow. That's brand spanking new."
Avoiding her gaze, Angel fidgeted with his napkin. "Yeah, well...it's complicated."
Here came the tricky part. "How so?" she said casually.
"I don't want to bore you," he said, smiling disarmingly.
Willow returned his smile with one of her own patented innocent ones. "That's okay. I'm kinda curious." Guilt churned her stomach and she felt a hot flush creep up her neck.
He studied her for a long moment, and his smile faded. "Really?"
Oh, crap. "Yeah." Willow tried to maintain her facade but it was too late. She never was a very good liar and Angel was--or rather had been--a master of manipulation. It wasn't even a contest. His eyes flashed yellow and for a second she fancied she saw the demon clawing to get out. She felt her heart begin to perform its own version of the snoopy dance.
Angel sat up straight. "You came here to spy on me!"
"No, no...not exactly."
He suddenly looked very Angelusy. "Not exactly?"
Holding up her hands in a placating gesture, Willow said, "It's not what you think, honest."
"Oh, so you're not here to check up on me and make sure I'm not about to turn evil."
"Okaaay, so it is what you think..."
Reaching across the table, Angel grasped her wrist in a gentle but secure grip. "Willow, I was evil for over a century. I practically wrote the book on it. I think I can handle Wolfram & Hart." His voice was low and persuasive, seductive even.
She felt a surge of anger at his attempt to intimidate her, and with a twist of her power deftly removed his hand from her arm. Wide-eyed, he watched his hand float to his lap seemingly of its own accord, his look of astonishment almost comical.
"I don't doubt that, Angel. But after Angelus's resurrection last year, you can't blame...people for worrying that you might do something, you know, insane."
He shook his head as if in disbelief. "That was different. There were circumstances--"
"There always are," Willow said sharply.
"It was an apocalypse, damn it!"
At that moment a waiter rounded a screen, carrying two plates. He stopped short and glanced from Willow to Angel. "Um, is this a bad time?"
"No," growled Angel, still staring at her.
The waiter gulped and plonked their meals down before beating a hasty retreat. Willow thanked the Goddess her poached salmon didn't end up in her lap. She glanced at Angel, whose dark eyes were boring into her, making her feel like a hapless Japanese confronting Godzilla. Taking a deep breath, she took a bite of her meal, chewing slowly to give them both time to compose themselves.
She swallowed. "Angel, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you, but...you're in the midst of evil. That's gotta have some kind of effect on you. If Cordelia were here it would be different--she kept you grounded. But with her gone..."
He blinked, and his angry mask cracked and melted away. "How'd you know that? About Cordelia and me."
Uncertain how much to reveal, Willow hesitated. "Since I activated the slayers, I've been a lot more...connected. Sometimes I just know things."
He regarded her with a touch of awe, which, coming from him, didn't sit well with her. "You touched something powerful, didn't you?"
"Oh, yeah. It blew my socks off." Angel raised his eyebrows and she added, "But in a good way."
He looked down for a second, then cast a hopeful glance at her. "Could you help her?"
She knew without asking which 'her' he was referring to, and more than anything she wanted to say yes. "Oh, Angel. I wish I could, but wherever Cordelia is, she's beyond my reach."
Confusion contorted his features. "You've already tried?"
Willow nodded. "When we got word a while back, I tried to find her on the astral planes." She swallowed. "I couldn't."
Angel's face fell and she felt his pain as if it were her own. She reached across the table and squeezed his hand. He tried to smile. "You should eat your dinner before it gets cold," he said, nodding at her meal.
Taking his cue, she released his hand and returned to her salmon. She ate in silence while Angel brooded and ignored the rare steak before him. Finally he stirred. "So was it Buffy or Giles who put you up to it?"
A piece of broccoli stuck in her throat and she hacked and coughed to dislodge it. Eyes glimmering with amusement, Angel offered her a glass of water.
She threw him a dirty look as she accepted it.
"Come on, Willow. I know it was one of them, maybe both."
Try as she might, she couldn't prevent herself from twitching when he said the word 'both'.
Angel smiled. "I thought so."
"Hey, no fair. You tricked me," she said when she could talk again.
Unrepentant, he tilted his head. "Then I guess we're even."
She harrumphed. "They're...concerned, as any friend would be."
He sighed. "I don't suppose either of them even considered that sending you might not have been such a good idea."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Steepling his hands, he contemplated her for a moment. "I had a visit from Eve this afternoon."
"Eve?"
"She's my liaison to the senior partners."
Willow mulled that over. "Evil?"
He shrugged. "Jury's still out. But I'd err on the side of assuming she's definitely evil."
"Sure," she said agreeably, "but since I plan to steer way clear of the senior partners I don't see..." Angel grimaced. "What?"
He hesitated. "Eve suggested I offer you a job."
"A job? Doing what?"
"She didn't say."
Willow quirked an eyebrow. "Would I get a company car?"
"Willow!"
"I'm just asking! Geez, Angel, relax. If you were human, you'd be having a seizure by now."
"Willow, this is serious. The senior partners showing an interest in you is not a good thing. Trust me on that."
She resisted the urge to roll her eyes. When did Angel turn into such a worrywart? "I get that. But since you're not gonna offer me a job and I wouldn't take it anyway--no offence, by the way--I don't think I have anything to worry about." She froze. And I just jinxed myself big time.
Angel didn't seem convinced either. "All right. Well, I can't deny you can take of yourself. Just...be careful, okay?"
"Yes, Dad."
Narrowing his eyes, he leaned across the table. "Willow, you do understand I'm not just talking about your physical safety. These people--and I use the term loosely--will do everything in their power to corrupt you."
A chill prickled her scalp and she dropped her facetious manner. "I understand, Angel," she said quietly, "and I'll be careful. But if Wolfram & Hart think they can corrupt me, they really don't know what they're up against."
***
Angel dropped her off at her hotel, still trying to persuade her to stay with him even as she opened the car door. But she was firm in her refusal. It would be like sleeping in a nest of vipers. Plus she suspected Angel was in overprotective mode, and she wanted to discourage him.
Willow had barely kicked off her shoes when she heard a knock at the door. "Yes?"
A female voice answered, "Miss Rosenberg, may I speak with you? It's important." It sounded like the hotel receptionist.
Groaning, Willow trudged to the door in her bare feet and opened it.
A pert blonde smiled at her. "Hello, my name is Eve."
***