Chapter Sixteen: February 24, 1998 part. 2

Willow leaned her forehead against the door after Franz locked it. She pressed her palms against the cool wood and told herself to ignore the sounds of Spike's pain. He had hurt her, but she never wanted him to be tortured. Spike's punishment wasn't what she was worried the most about. She kept thinking that she should feel more guilty and saddened, but she couldn't help but be grateful that he hadn't killed her and that it wasn't her down there. Her time among vampires had made her realize some ugly truths about herself. She wasn't as compassionate as she had hoped, for instance.

Willow pushed herself away from the door. She sighed before walking to her favorite chair, high backed and plush, right by the window and drawing back the heavy curtain. Touching the glass, she looked in the yard next door where she had seen Xander. He wasn't there, but he had been and he had seen her. That's what counted.

She felt like Rapunzel, trapped in a tower, waiting at a window for rescue. It was a feeling that had settled on her like a boulder on her chest. She was helpless and she hated it. Willow had pondered many times during the seemingly endless days on how she could escape with no idea of the lay of the house, minions on the ground floor, and master vampires next door. Wandering around the room, she had checked it for weaknesses and wracked her brain on some manner of escape that wouldn't result in death. It all seemed useless. She knew that there was nothing she could have done to have prevented being kidnapped, but she wished that she had slayer strength or heck, even super smell, to fight back with. It took her a week to realize that that only way she could get out by herself was by magic. When she figured out her problem, she had laughed hysterically. She should have done more than an anti-witch charm and some unsuccessful pencil floating. Willow had worked so hard on math and science when she should have bought a cauldron and a broomstick.

Willow sat, kicking the green heels off her feet and raising them up on the chair, with her chin on her knees. She gazed out the window thinking about what she would do after she left the mansion. Imagining meeting her friends in the library for pizza and research, she heard the bedroom door open. Willow pulled the curtain back into place, covering the dimming light of the setting sun, before looking over her shoulder with a small smile. "Franz."

"Hello, Miss Rosenberg," He said, flipping on the light switch, "It should be quieter from now on." Franz wore a frown on his face and held a camera in his hands.

"What's happening down there? It sounded like..." Willow shook her head. "Never mind, that was a stupid question."

"No humans were killed. Only minions." Franz walked a few steps closer. "You don't have to worry about Spike. He's been banished."

Willow nodded, relieved to have fewer vampires prowling around. "Good."

"Would you mind if I took your picture?"

"I don't care." Willow turned her face to the camera, chin up, without a trace of a smile.

He snapped the photo before placing the camera on the bed. "'You have been quiet all day." He walked in front of the chair and put a gentle finger under her chin to turn her to face him. "I can almost feel the words bubbling underneath the surface." His cold fingers lingered on her jawline as he smiled.

She tipped her face up to look into his gray eyes. "Oh, Franz, I feel like I'm barely in the world anymore." She leaned into his touch. "I don't even know what day it is!" She stood up, asking, "I've been here for twenty-two days, haven't I?"

"Its February 24th." He nodded. They were face to face with only inches between them.

"What happened today in big wide world?" Willow frowned. "I feel like I'm missing everything."

"I only could catch a snippet of the afternoon news." He said with an small embarrassed smile. "Elton John was knighted by the Queen."

Willow laughed, smiling up at Franz, before she said, "And the world keeps spinning." It was just too ridiculous a contrast to her supernatural soap opera of a life.

He brushed stray strands of hair off her forehead. "It always does. No matter how long you have been on walking upon it."

A thought occurred to her. "You know, you do my hair all the time, but I just realized that I've never even touched yours." She reached up and touched his carefully parted blond hair without mussing it. "Soft."

Franz's eyes briefly closed as she smoothed his hair down and in that instance, all traces of his professionalism was gone. "I wish..." His usual cool was broken and she could see such emotion in his eyes. Willow understood now that under the mild exterior that he was a man of passion. "I wish everything was different." He backed away, shaking his head, letting go of her. He picked up the camera and walked to the door. "You deserve much more than this, Willow. I'm so sorry."

"You're not acting like yourself." She stood up, heart beating fast, as dread flooded her. Questions raced through her mind. Was something worse going to happen to her soon? Willow followed him, knees feeling weak. "What aren't you telling me?"

"Tomorrow, I will leave and I won't be able to protect you as I had before," He said, staring into her eyes. "Its been a pleasure serving you, Willow." Franz held out his hand. "I hope to meet you again under more favorable circumstances."

"I'm going to miss you." She set her hand in his and let him bow, courtly and refined, before kissing her knuckles. "Take care of yourself." She reached up and hugged him. He stiffened before giving into the hug. "Thank you," she whispered into his ear. She had read enough of the Watcher Diaries to know that the last twenty-two days could have been much worse. Willow let go. Tears sprang from her eyes, Willow bit her lip to keep her composure.

Franz smiled sadly. Turning around, he opened the door before leaving the room and locking her in.

Willow closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She hated the uncertainty, the fear, and the mystery that cloaked this house. And, now she was losing her one friend in the place. If only she had a magic wand to change her life back to normal. Walking to the door, she placed her hand on it as she switched off the light. "Good bye."

She returned to her chair; a chill went up her spine; all she had was herself now. She thought she had nothing left to lose, but watching Franz leave made her realize she had so much more to take away. Willow couldn't continue being the good pet. She wasn't playing a board game, there were no dice or directions, and she had only herself now. The time for waiting for Buffy was over.

She had been trying to remember the most useful spells of the little bit of witchcraft she had studied. The only one she could do without any supplies that had much of a use was telekinesis. There was levitating spell she knew, unfortunately, it required perfect peace of mind which Willow was worlds away from. Telekinesis was the opposite in that it only frustration and pain could fuel it. Before she couldn't get it to work, but after Angelus snatched her away, she had more than enough of those emotions stock piled away. She had been practicing as much as she dared for two weeks, but it was only after Spike tried to kill her that she had any success. Under her breath, she recited the strange focusing phase to the telekinesis charm. All her fear and sadness rose up in her as she stared at the closed curtain. Willow, growing silent, kept concentrating on the heavy fabric. A wave of tingling warmth overcame her body and she gasped. The curtain jerked open allowing the rays of the sinking sun in. Smiling, Willow fell back, tired, as she began daydreaming of new modes of escape that could become possible.

000

Penn looked down on Drusilla, cowering by her dolls, with his arms crossed as he struggled to control his temper. All his plans were ruined by her idiot childe and now, she was having a fit. He rolled his eyes -- she was playing the mad seer card like she did whenever she got into trouble. "Get up or I'll will make you get up. You know your crazy fortune teller act doesn't do a damn thing for me." He crouched down in front of her. "I'm not your shining knight or dark prince and I don't give a shit if I hurt your lunatic feelings."

"All is wrong." Drusilla pressed herself against the long and low dresser. On the dresser were rows of ornate Victorian dolls wearing dresses of faded silk and decaying lace. Most were blindfolded, bound with thin braids made from Drusilla's own hair, and had sprigs of herbs tucked into their petticoats except the unbound auburn haired one in a tiny chair that lorded over the rest. "Dead seeds and barren earth. Diana, upon a broomstick, leading her cursed witches."

Penn wished she would grow out of her perpetual goth phase.

Banging her head, she tore her curls loose from the pins holding them. "It came to me in a dream and I forgot... I knew this once!"

"Sure, you did." He grabbed her by her upper arms and threw her against the wall. He could have said the same thing about himself. Hindsight was always 20/20 and he saw now, just like he had learned decades ago, that Spike made a piss poor co-conspirator. He drank when he should be sober, mouthed off when he should have shut the hell up, and fought the wrong battles. Though, he couldn't just blame Spike. There was another who had been in his way for more than a century. He stood up. "Yeah, we've all seen and heard this before, Drusilla. Gloom and doom visions wrapped in nonsense riddles and lullabies that could be the future-- or just a daydream. Get a new shtick."

She hit the wall on her side and fell to the floor, landing on her hands and knees. Looking up at him through wild dark locks, she began to giggle. Drusilla rose like a cobra and held her arms up to the manacles and chains nailed into the wall. "Its dark where you are."

"I wish it was sunny where you are," Penn said, shoving her wrists in and locking the manacles shut. He hoped that she wouldn't struggle with all her strength and escape because he did not want to run around town trying to catch her. The chains didn't look like they would hold if she went berserk.

Her eyes grew wide and the pupils large as she convulsed, rattling the chains. She focused her insane gaze on her dolls.

"Jesus, don't you ever give it a rest?" Penn threw his hands in the air and turned away, walking a few steps towards the door. "Why am I the only one in the world who sees how annoying you are?"

She stilled, contenting herself with a quiet stream of creepy mumbling.

"Thank you." Penn said, puffing out a unnecessary breath in relief. His eyes narrowed as he heard the voices in the hallway.

"--follow him with Lawson and the other half will do a couple of sweeps around the town to make sure he doesn't double back." Angelus said. "What else was there?"

"I already submitted her turning recommendation yesterday with my own letter of approval suggesting elite status in the order." Franz answered in his overly formal tone. "Should I mail the paperwork about your great matter tonight once the job is complete?"

"Yes. I've already made up my mind about Drusilla." Angelus asked, pausing. "Good. What about the house in LA?"

"All of the modifications will be made by Wolfram & Hart contractors so there is no need to worry about awkward questions. Once the remodeling and decorating is done, your move to Los Angeles should be a smooth one. I have also hired the new accountant and Miss Rosenberg's Latin tutor." Franz said. "The financial summaries and receipts are on your desk. My fee has been also forwarded to the Caymans account."

Drusilla's demented muttering rose in volume.

Penn didn't want to believe his ears. He tore his glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose as he clenched his jaw. So, this was the fruit of all those late nights when they snacked on caffeine junkies and discussed investments, art, and so much in between. Angelus had wanted to know of everything he had missed while the Soul was off being a hermit. Sitting in the cafes of Sunnydale, debating the issues of the day, had taken him back to the beginning when he had first met Angelus in 1773. Angelus was even affectionate and had given him such hope. The coffee dates had been a part of his plan to win back Angelus' attentions for awhile, but they stopped soon enough. Of course, he thought bitterly, his sire was only manipulating him to get what he wanted. Ever since he had been at the mansion, he had been building up Angelus' financial profile. It had been hell going through Angelus' mangled finances and fighting with Wolfram & Hart lawyers to get the inheritance from Darla. Then the loan... Penn felt like the world's oldest fool.

"No, no, no, no, no, its starting!" Drusilla wailed. Her pyscho-babble drowned out the two vampires in the hall. "Crickets in the reeds. Mountains in my view."

"Shut up, Dru!" He jammed his glasses back on before balling his fists up.

"We're all trapped in their circle as they whisper secrets. I can't understand what they are saying." She shook her chains again.

"I really wish that Angelus hadn't twisted your mind up so completely that regular punishments don't effect you. You'll fast like a demonic saint for fun. You get whipped and you laugh as if its a tickle. We all know that you love it when Spike and Angelus fight. You three get to act out your dark love triangle where Spike is the noble gutter poet and Angelus is the irresistible demon." He stalked over to her doll collection and picked up a redhead one in green. He tossed it up with one hand, catching it, as he said, "Maybe we should explore alternative methods of punishment. Modern methods. I've read that taking away a child's toys can be quite-." He chucked the doll at the wall, it hit by Drusilla's hip and shattered. "Effective."

She wailed again. "Don't set my dears free. It took me ever so long to harvest them all."

"Keep her quiet, Penn!" Angelus roared from the hallway.

Penn walked out of the room, ripping the door open. "Your mad woman is having a meltdown."

Angelus crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I gave you an order."

Franz stood at the human's door like a good little babysitter. Penn had wondered why Angelus hired the one of the best undead jack of all trades in the country. He had asked once and was told that it was because of the slayer situation. Angelus needed someone to keep a close eye on the minions while he dealt with her. Now, Penn knew it was all a lie. His sire needed someone to facilitate his transition into his new life

Spike opened his door, cigarette in his mouth, with a duffel bag in his hand. The smell of blood lingered on him.

"I also gave you one," Angelus said to his humbled childe. "You have ten minutes to get outside the city limits."

Spike nodded then glared at Penn, blowing smoke into his face, when he passed by Drusilla's door. Franz and Angelus followed him down the hall.

Penn bit his tongue, slammed the door closed behind him, and stomped back to his charge. He pointed his finger in her face. "You heard him. Pipe down and I'll go."

She screamed, writhing in her restraints, before she said. "They've turned against me. I feel my servants poisoning the air."

"This is exactly what I'm talking about." He backhanded her. "You two get in and out of trouble with slaps on the wrist. My humbling lasted three hours and I had to grovel on broken glass before you. You! When you were only a fucking fledgling who couldn't even hunt alone for fear that you'd try to turn a goat." He turned away and walked to the dolls. "I don't even know why I bother or why I get myself worked up." Picking up another doll with red curls, he tossed it at the ground and crushed its china head under his heel. "Its his way. He finds someone, obsesses, turns them and dotes on them for a few years before getting bored. He makes you love him then he ditches you for someone new." He grabbed a raven haired, regency doll, and turned back to her. "Its already happened to you, sister, and you don't even know it. At least I know he's not that into me." He drop kicked it across the room. "He was in the beginning when he seduced me from my father's home. You should have seen how he acted with me in Nap-."

She jumped and screwed her eyes shut as she interrupted, "Neither dead, nor of the living, I invoke you, spirit of the passing. Return to the body what distinguishes Man from the beast!"

"Well, there goes my monologue." Penn shrugged, grimacing, before sweeping two of the dolls off the dresser. "You know, every time you open your insane whore mouth, I'm going to break another one of your dolls."

Drusilla's lips twisted as she tried to stop her sobbing.

"Crying counts as a sound." He lobbed a doll in a blue dress, smashing the delicate antique on the wall above her head, showering her in china pieces. The dress floated down.

"I'm sick of playing these games, Drusilla," Penn said. He heard the hallway door open and a familiar confident stride walk right passed them before entering the pet's room. Anger flared up in him again. Penn picked up the only doll that had its own chair. Dark curls framed its aloof face. "Is this Miss Edith?"

She shook her head, biting her lip, fear in her eyes.

"It is her." Raising the doll, he looked into its face and smiled before tossing it at Drusilla's feet. Both porcelain arms shattered, but the head remained intact, protected by the thick mop of hair. "You say another word and I'll finish the rest off."

000

Buffy was on a fact finding mission into Xander and Giles's big secret. She had said she was going to do an early patrol, leaving the guys alone to research, but instead did a sweep of the campus before doubling back to the library. Her spider senses were definitely tingling. Buffy had walked in on too many dropped conversations that were, supposedly, about random topics-- geology, corn, and badminton. Unless Giles and Xander had joined a badminton league behind her back, they were hiding something. She came in through the back stacks and sneaked up on Xander. "What's up?"

He let out a shriek and dropped the old tomes he held. Dust billowed up from them. "Buffy, er, hi."

"I repeat, what's the what?" She crossed her arms.

Xander's mouth gaped open and he stuttered before spitting out, "Um, badminton?"

She raised her eyebrow before crouching down to pick up the books. "Come on, Xander, we're going to see your English leader." She held the books against her chest and marched him out of the stacks. "Oh, so this is whats going on."

Ms. Calender, standing at the long table, looked up from packing plastic baggies filled with herbs into a cardboard box that contained white pillar candles. Her mouth fell open. "Damn."

Giles walked out of his office holding a crystal orb and stopped at the sight of his Slayer.

"Are you guys having a séance without me?" She went down the small staircase and strolled between the two adults before crossing her arms. "I'm I not allowed to play wizard's apprentice too?"

"I didn't want to raise your hopes." Giles walked to Ms. Calendar, setting the orb in the box, before stepping up to Buffy. "I was going to tell you if it worked."

"Cut the crypto-speak." Buffy put her hands on her hips. She didn't care that they were doing spells just that they were lying to her about it. Admittedly, seeing Ms. I'm-Actually-A-Gypsy-Spy did sting a lot. "I just want to know what you guys have been sneaking around doing." She looked behind her shoulder at Xander then returned her eyes to her watcher. "Also, badminton? Really, Xander?" she rolled her eyes.

"We're only trying to help," Ms. Calendar said.

"I want to hear it from him." Buffy said in a low voice. "Thanks."

"We're going to re-ensoul Angel tonight." Giles took off his glasses, pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket, and polished the lens. "Jenny translated the original spell."

Tears sprang to Buffy's eyes. "And you didn't tell me?" She shook her head and took a deep breath. It wasn't betrayal, but it did hurt. She thought she would be ecstatic to hear that she could get Angel back. She wasn't. Buffy didn't even know what she would say to him. Too much had happened for her to look at him in the same way. He hadn't just kidnapped Willow. He had killed so many people. Every day, Buffy checked the crime section of the newspaper and saw missing person after missing person or homicide after homicide that fitted with a vampire attack. Every day, she had to ask herself if the love of her short life had killed those people. The part of her that was pure slayer was angered that he would never pay for his crimes. It didn't matter now, she told herself, they needed a man on the inside to get Willow out of that house of horrors. Angel wasn't her boyfriend, Buffy told herself, he hadn't been for a long time. She felt her heart harden even more to her lost love affair and she couldn't help but wonder if this was what being an adult felt like. Wiping away tears, she said, "Let's just do this. Fill me in on this spell in the car."

00

Drusilla hung limp in the manacles that held her to the wall. Tears ran down her swollen cheek as she looked at the broken dolls scattered around the room. Her dear Miss. Edith, voice so calming and advice so pertinent, was lost to her and there was no one to help her supervise the others. The tears were for the soul of her littlest sister that she could feel weakening in inside the armless doll. Penn had destroyed her entire altar on the dresser, many of her dolls were cracked beyond repair, and most of her spells were ruined.

Visions, murky and heinous, wracked her mind. The wicked spirits that escaped her dolls were muddling her sight. She should have known that Little Lottie would be the first to blind her. A flurry of images and voices swirled together, mingling the past and the future with the present, and she didn't know what they all meant. Only one vision appeared clear as an orb. On a stage, a circle of candles surround an old peasant crone holding the hands of a modern day woman over her Angel. She saw faceless Aurelians, dressed in finery, in an opera house watching the spectacle while jabbering in tongues long since dead. Drusilla couldn't understand them and all of the sprites that whispered secrets in her ear flew away.

"Oh, the treacherous moon and dancing Pan underneath abandoned me." She shook her head. "I didn't know! The sounds catches and carries through the valley frightening me so. Angels fall, crashing, crushed under the feet of witches." Quiet sobs shake her frame before she asked, "Why won't anyone listen to me?"

Drusilla had lost so much today and she knew she would lose much more.