------
Part 6
Willow sprinted down the deserted corridor. She was late for class and didn't want to screw up her perfect attendance record. Panting, she reached the classroom and threw open the door.
The room was empty. Weird. She looked up and down the corridor, only now noticing the eerie silence, the way her breath echoed in the still air. If she didn't know better, she'd think she was the only person in the entire school.
Maybe it's Saturday. She shook her head. Wow, I must be really out of it if I came to school on a Saturday.
Still, something didn't feel right. Willow turned and began trotting towards the library, hoping to find Giles. If anyone knew what was going on, it would be him. She stopped short. Wait, hadn't they blown up the high school? And wasn't Sunnydale now a giant crater? She pivoted in place, studying the walls and lockers. Everywhere she looked objects began to warp and melt, bleeding into each other. Uh oh. I don't think I'm in Kansas anymore. She noticed her outfit for the first time--an orange mini-skirt and a red tee-shirt. Okaaay.
Glass cracked and Willow whipped her head up. Oozing through the exterior windows was a black cloud that seemed transparent but radiated a sentience alien to her. The light in the corridor dimmed. Fascinated, she watched it accumulate into a large amorphous shape. It began to shift shape, and she recognised the Master, Moloch, Adam, and countless other demons she'd helped vanquish in its constantly changing mass. Her stomach curdled. This can't be good.
It started towards her.
Instinctively, she focused her magical energies...only to discover she had none. She was completely out of juice. Oh, crap. Pinpricks ran down her spine and she backed away.
Willow had counted on the sanctity of the retreat to shield her from attacks of this nature. She hadn't expected to be vulnerable on the astral planes, in her own dreamscape no less. Obviously a huge miscalculation on her part--which could end up being her last. She grimaced. Yay, me!
The shadows crept closer. She was sure of only one thing--she couldn't allow it to touch her, to infect her with its malevolence. Acting on reflex, Willow spun around and raced to the library. Please be there--Giles, Buffy, anyone... Heart pounding, she hurtled through the swing doors like a battering ram.
Wearing a tweed suit she hadn't seen in years, Giles strolled out of his office engrossed in a book.
"Giles!" Arms flailing, she dashed towards him.
He glanced at her. "Oh, Willow, there you are. I need some help with--"
"No time for that now. We've got incoming!"
Giles strolled to the table, already reabsorbed in his book. "Incoming?"
"Evil...dark...somethings," she sputtered.
She finally seemed to have caught his attention. He looked up at her, tut-tutting. "Really, Willow, surely you can describe it better than that?"
She threw her hands in the air. "Giles, could we have a little less critiquing and a little more panicking?"
Chuckling, he placed the book on the table. "Don't be silly, Willow. They can't hurt me--I'm not real."
She stared. "Er, yeah, good point. Well, maybe you could help me find a spell or something," she said, glancing over her shoulder. "Like, now."
"My dear girl, what good is a spell without the power to invoke it?"
Her mouth fell open. Oh, man. DreamGiles is a pompous ass. She clenched her fists. "Fine. If I can't do a spell, what can I do?"
He stepped closer, smiling kindly. "The answer is in here," he said, gently tapping her temple. Without another word he faded into nothingness just as the doors creaked open. Not taking the time to look, Willow bounded up the stairs, making for the back exit. She threw the door open and froze. Black, smoky images of Glory and Machida blocked her escape route.
Oh, great! She slammed the door shut and scrambled back to the central area. The shadows had breached the library. Sucking up the light, they glided towards her as if they had all the time in the world. Sweat trickled down her face. On the verge of outright panic, she literally ran in circles trying to pull a miracle out of her ass. Work, brain, work! Giles's words echoed in her head, mocking her it seemed. The answer is in my head? What the hell does that mean?
Just when she thought she was a goner, it came to her in a rush--there was still one source of power she had access to. Wasting no more time, she sent out a call for help as the darkness surrounded her. As her fortress fell under the blanket of night all she heard were her own harsh breaths.
And then they answered her call.
Like avenging angels, the spirits of slayers past leapt seemingly out of nowhere to encircle her, sheathed in radiant light that reclaimed the library from the dark. With stake and sword and axe, they fought back the shadows, keeping them at bay. As she took a deep breath, Willow realised they'd keep fighting until she recovered enough strength to protect herself.
Eyes watering from the brilliant light, she watched the slayers fearlessly battle their foes with skill and precision. Perhaps it was only her imagination, but she thought she glimpsed Kendra's lithe form among the warriors and heard the slayer's distinctive accent among the battle cries.
Willow smiled.
------
She woke with a start. Toasty warm, Willow discovered she was tucked between lavender-scented sheets. Heavy drapes covered the windows, shrouding the room in darkness. She tried to sit up but her head spun.
"Easy, luv."
"Spike?"
"Yeah."
She lay back down and blinked until she could make out a man-shaped shadow seated on her right. "It worked?" Her throat felt scratchy.
Spike chuckled. "Yeah, it worked." Through the gloom Willow saw him stretch and heard the flick of a switch. A warm orange glow lit the bedroom. "Like a charm. How do you feel?"
She clutched her head. "Ask me tomorrow...when my brain doesn't feel all squishy."
He chuckled again and leaned towards the nightstand to pour a glass of water. Slipping an arm under her shoulders, he lifted her so she could sip from the glass. Once her thirst was sated, he lay her down again.
Willow had the strangest feeling she'd forgotten something, but she couldn't pinpoint it. Oh, well, it couldn't have been that important. Just as she was beginning to relax, images from her dream whirled through her mind and she bolted upright.
"Red?"
"I'm okay. I..." Desperate to reassure herself that she was awake, she groped for his hand and pinched it. Hard.
"Ow!" He snatched his hand back. "What the hell was that for?"
"Just checking."
"I already told you the spell worked!"
"Not that. I was..." Willow trailed off, unwilling to share the details of her "dream". "I wanted to make sure I was awake."
Rubbing his hand, he scowled at her. "Then you pinched the wrong body."
She thought for a moment. "Oh...yeah. Sorry 'bout that. I guess I'm still pretty loopy from the spell."
His expression flipped from annoyed to solemn in the blink of an eye. "Yeah. Look, I know you risked a lot for me. And no matter what you think, you didn't owe me a damn thing." Spike's gaze wandered the room before settling on her. "You gave me a second chance, Willow--I won't forget it." His deep voice held a tenderness she'd never heard him display with anyone other than Buffy.
Touched by his sincerity, Willow smiled warmly. "Hey, we're friends, aren't we?"
He hesitated. "Yeah, we're friends."
"Well, friends help each other out."
Nodding, he said, "They do at that."
She closed her eyes for a moment and shifted her attention inwards, relieved to discover her magical reserves partly restored. Although she still felt as if she'd been dragged facedown through hell.
Spike rose to his feet. "You should get some more shuteye. I'm just gonna grab some blood and then I'll be back."
"Okay. You know, you don't have to stay. I mean, here at the retreat. I'm safe here."
Spike shook his head. "No, I'll wait until you're ready to leave. I've got eternity, remember?" he said, his tone slightly self-mocking.
Willow yawned as she snuggled under the quilt. "Okay. Just don't eat anyone, all right?"
He switched off the lamp. "All right, luv."
Eyes closed and sinking into the welcoming embrace of snoozeville, she barely heard him. But a few seconds later she was jerked into wakefulness by a thud and a muffled curse. "Spike?"
His embarrassed voice came to her in the dark. "Nothing to worry about. I, er, forgot to open the door."
She snickered. "Yeah, those doorknobs can be real tricky."
A growl. "Watch it, Red."
"Yeah, yeah." Willow rolled over and closed her eyes again. "You're so gonna bite me."
As she drifted into a dreamless sleep, she thought she heard him say, "Friends don't bite, Willow."
------
She lay on a chaise lounge, sipping peppermint tea and watching the sunset. Just a few more hours and Spike would be driving her to the airport. Willow was aware of a pervading sense of peace that had nothing to do with the sanctuary in which she rested. She felt more in tune with the Earth than she had in months and she knew it was because of the spell.
Her magic was so strong, sometimes she wondered if it would live on after she died. To possess that much power and not use it would be, at best, irresponsible. Willow set her mug on the grass and lay her head back, recalling the day she'd told Buffy she was staying in Sunnydale so she could devote her life to fighting evil. She'd been so confident. The confidence that comes with naivety, she thought, musing on her lost innocence with longing and regret.
The sky deepened and the stars became visible as night-blooming jasmine scented the warm air. She heard the flick of a lighter behind her and knew who it was without having to look.
"Finished packing?" asked Spike.
Swivelling her head, Willow grinned. "Sure. Took me all of five minutes since I didn't have much to begin with." She observed him step through the open French doors with amusement; Claire had threatened to stake him if he smoked in the house, and though he'd made a big song and dance about it, he'd eventually conceded to her wishes.
Spike had never struck her as the nurturing type but he'd stuck around, watching over her while she slept, bringing her meals, and, to her eternal embarrassment, even helping her to the bathroom. And she didn't think his motive was purely due to gratitude.
He circled her and perched on the foot of the lounge. "So I guess there's no point giving you a message for Buffy."
"No..." She stared. "How'd you know?"
Shrugging, he exhaled a stream of smoke. "You look like a woman who's going places."
"Really?" Willow fixed him with an interrogative stare.
Spike snorted. "All right, so I heard you on the phone with Paingel." He tugged his ear lobe. "Vampire, remember?"
"Eavesdropping isn't very polite."
He flashed her a wicked grin. "Vampire, remember?"
Willow giggled. Tilting her head back, she studied the stars, joining the dots in random patterns. "You don't need me to talk to Buffy, you know," she said. After a long silence she looked at him. His face was turned away from her, and in profile his pose was remarkably similar to The Thinker. Going on instinct, she waited him out.
"Is she happy?" he said at last.
"Yes, I think she is," Willow said carefully.
He puffed on the cigarette and flicked the stub into her mug. "Best let her be, then."
She wanted to offer sympathy, wanted to tell him she was proud of his unselfish gesture, but she had the feeling that was the last thing he wanted. So she returned to her contemplation of the heavens, allowing the crickets to take centre stage.
After a while, Spike stirred. "What about your bird?"
"Kennedy? I'm hoping she'll understand this is something I need to do."
"Doesn't mean you have to do it alone."
She considered his words, tempted to let him sway her from her decision. But she knew in her heart she was doing the right thing. "I've depended on others most of my life...so much so that sometimes I couldn't let go," she said, thinking of Buffy and Tara. "I think it's time I stood on my own two feet. For a while, anyway."
Without looking at her, he nodded. "Just so long as you remember there are people who care about you," he said in a casual, almost brusque tone.
"I will. It's what gives me the courage to go out there."
He rotated his head to face her, and in the starlight she could just make out his smile. "I know what you mean, luv."
------
Much to her chagrin, Spike insisted on accompanying Willow to the check-in counter, and then the departure gate. Boy, dying really does change people.
He faced her and rocked back on his heels. "So, er..."
"You're not gonna get all mushy on me, are you?" Willow said, quirking her mouth.
"Eh. Course not," he said, looking as if she'd just told him his roots were showing. "I was just gonna ask if you've got all your bits and pieces."
Willow patted her duffel bag and brandished her boarding pass, ticket, and passport. "All present and accounted for." She hesitated. "Listen, go easy on Angel, will ya?"
"Sure. When hell freezes over." His gaze roamed over the other passengers.
"Spike," she said, exasperated. "You are both on the same side now."
"Don't remind me." He glanced at her face and sighed. "How 'bout I promise not to stake him? Will that do you?"
Willow mock pouted. "I guess, if that's the best I'm going to get."
"Believe me, I'm the one getting the short end of the stick here," Spike said.
"Willow!"
Startled, she looked across the terminal and spotted Angel sprinting towards them, waving madly.
Spike shook his head. "Drama queen," he muttered. Leaning in, he hugged her so hard she could've sworn her bones creaked. "Take care of yourself, luv."
She breathed in the scent of tobacco and leather...and hair gel. "You too, Spike." He released her and strode off in the opposite direction to Angel, duster swirling in his wake. Willow grinned. Now who's the drama queen?
Angel reached her. "Hey."
"Hey." She was surprised to see him, having already said her goodbyes to the gang.
He gave her an uncertain smile. "I, er, wanted to thank you in person."
"Oh. Well, like I said, I kinda owed Spike--"
"Actually, I meant for trying to help Cordy."
"Right...that makes a lot more--" She plastered a smile on her face. "You're welcome."
"Not that I don't appreciate what you did for Spike," he said quickly. "I just wish...he deserved it."
She held his gaze. "He does, Angel."
He was the first to look away. "Maybe," he said grudgingly as he shuffled his feet. "So, Paris, huh?"
"Yep. I hear there's an evil law firm there. Not to mention the Mona Lisa."
He nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, maybe you could use your magic to fix it up. The painting, that is." She gave him a look. "Or not. Listen, call me if you need anything, okay?"
"Er, Angel, you do realise I'm gonna be working against Wolfram & Hart, right?"
His face went slack for an instant before he recovered. "Sure. Call me anyway; I still have contacts that aren't connected to Wolfram & Hart." His brow creased. "I think."
A wave of affection engulfed her and she hugged him. "You'll be okay, Angel. I can feel it."
He relaxed under her arms. "I hope you're right."
She thumped his back and pulled away. "Aren't I always?"
"You really want me to answer that?" he said, smiling.
Smiling back, Willow thumped his shoulder. "You take care, Angel."
"You too, Willow."
She started towards the gate but something occurred to her and she wheeled about. "By the way, tell Eve I said hi."
Angel's smile widened. "Will do. Give 'em hell."
Grinning, she saluted with two fingers, then turned and strode to the
gate. The world awaited her.
End