Two worlds were converging once again to stop one undead from falling away like a midwinter's snow into the pages of history. The rooms in Amcroft Row emptied. Xander was told Spike needed something and not that it had anything to do with Angel. Willow wanted him to be impassionate, even knowing it was impossible. Spike was startled to see how Willow had transformed; she looked inside as he felt outside. He was able to compose his face human enough for the impromptu meeting. He hurried through formalities; not knowing how long his composure would keep.
Chris whistled. "You two look like hell. What is going on over there?"
Willow, Oz, Xander, and Riley looked at him, locked into annoyance mode. This was no time for jokes; it felt like apocalypse time. There was that mood. That mood that sprinkled doom upon them all. Spike and Cordy looked into Willow and Xander's eyes.
"Angel's gone off the deep end. He hasn't lost his soul, we wish the explanation was that easy. For some reason, he howls and screeches and says only one word that doesn't mean anything to anyone but him. He says Anorous. He chants it in his sleep. He won't eat, barely breathes, insomuch as he can, and no one can reach him. We need your help; your research, anything. Angel is going to die."
Xander suppressed the gasp in the pain, which was pretty easy to do considering he felt dizzy, even though he was sitting. His Angel needed him. It explained the night at the jazz club. But he would shake it off. He always had; even when Angel had gone to hell. Because, like Buffy had learned the hard way, the world was black and white. He would save Angel, but only because it meant something to Spike and because of Cordy. His priorities would be pure.
That's it, he told himself, pure motives are all I need and I will survive this. The Zeppo always survives. Willow cornered him as the meeting ended and asked him about his personal feelings; if he'd be able to cope. It sounded strange for her to say and for him to hear; both knowing neither was really in any sane state.
But, as always, the work happened; the catacomb of searching was separated into the dusty corners of the library left by Giles and into searches and cross-references for the name in the spreadsheets of new data. So they searched in two hour shifts. Xander and Willow took the first shift and as daylight broke; they fell exhausted in front of the computer and some random Latin book describing Grecian demons and pagan spells. The dust from the front of the runes was shook out of Xander's hair by Riley as his shift started. From the com, Spike searched through the files with zeal; pounding against the wall of destruction layering them all.
No one had talked in hours; set to the rhythmic task of research and donuts, so perfected in the early days. There was no passion; just an undisrupted urgency to help the fallen Angel. Willow went into work exhausted. She hid the bloodshot eyes well and propped herself up during story time as her watch clicked away until her next research block with Xander. She doubted he would wait for her; Angel was involved. Her mind replayed all the spurned hate that had fueled his desire and love that he had whispered about to her during her time with Tara.
Even though she had heard his profession as she was exiting the coma state the first time they tried to "curse" Angel; she understood love was a fickle beast. And so she knew that Xander and Spike were consumed creatures. Her mind drifted as the children learned in a bright circle about Camelot, ladies in the water and other such fantasies. Then one child totted over with this dark hair and dark eyes.
There was nothing incredibly remarkable about her, but she totted with a certain authority. Willow scooped her up and the child whispered two words into her ear: Robin Hood. The two words sent a chill through Willow's spine. During her lunch "break", Willow rushed back to the row and explained what had happened to Cordelia over Skype. Cordy was able to ask the PTB, and they confirmed the child's abilities at prophecy. The work came to a head in the mythic section near English and French literature. Xander held in his hands gracefully-bound and ivory-enlaidend ivy covering it.
It seemed to hum in his hands. His eyes had a quizzical look as he brought it to the conference table. Several pairs of eyes hovered around the cover; afraid to open it. They heard Angel's voice through Spike's side of the link com and Willow grabbed the book from Xander, ripping the clasp off. Dear Willow, the bookworm, had to take the lead. Had to help save Angel; one of the only ones as strong as she. She devoured the words like a spell, an incantation, some form of an answer.
Robin Hood had another name. His name had been changed to Robin Hood by Little John. His lore, his specialty, had not been philanthropy, but had been demon hunting. Had Angel known him; been hunted by him? An expert marksman; it fit with the breakdown's entrance running through the Hyperion. It explained the sick green jungle fever in his eyes. Hope broke through Cordy first. She would not speak, but she could not force her lip to stop quivering into a slight smile.
Answers; like her bright beacon in the night, some sort of freedom, redemption for hours of cold tears and helpless shrugs. Robin Hood had been known as Anarobine by Maid Marion; her secret name for her lover. His father had called him Andrexorous. On the next page, a silvery sketch showed his arrows and quiver; devious catching and brilliantly intelligent devices that no one would think of until almost twenty years from the present. The silver sketches on the next page made Cordy faint and Spike grimace as he held her upright. Chris took hold of the book in reverence and fear when it fell from Willow's hands. He lifted the picture to Xander's eyes. They met like a mirror. Xander was Anorous.
