Willow sat down on the hard, uncomfortable library chair and gazed through the bars at the prone figure inside. It was her, or at least it looked like her, it was even wearing the same pink sweater that she was. Willow turned to say something to the group about her doppelganger, but then she remembered that they had left. Why had they left again? Everything was so hazy, it was like she had forgotten something important, but everytime she tried to concentrate she got a massive headache. A crash of metal echoing behind her brought her back to her senses, but when she turned back to check there was nothing there. The cage was empty, just as it was before.
No, that's not right. There was something in the cage, was that what was so important? Willow got up slowly and walked toward the open door, looking around carefully for what had happened to the thing that used to be in there. Giles was going to kill her when he found out she had lost it. Where was he anyways?
Not even a moment after she had crossed the cage's threshold, Willow felt a hard shove from behind, and the door clattered shut as she fell into a sprawling heap on the floor. She whipped her head around to glare at the perpetrator, but froze as she saw herself staring back. The double was staring inquisitively at her, no malice in its expression, but not a hint of comprehension either.
"You look like me," it spoke softly, "why is that?"
"No, I look like me! I mean, you look me, I look like myself, and you… what are you exactly?"
"I don't know." Her twin across the bars stared at her unflinching as they gazed at each other, then a hint of a smile broke on her face. She snorted softly, then started giggling quietly, yet uncontrollably to herself, as if some great cosmic entity had told a joke only she could hear.
"What? Why are you laughing?" Willow asked forcefully as she got up and began to approach the door. Her foot caught on a chair leg though and she tripped, losing her composure completely as she clung to the bars for balance. "Is it me? What did I do?"
"Oh nothing," her double said, a cruel glint entering her eyes, "I just remembered this time when I was ten and Xander and I were on the playground, and… ah, nevermind, somehow I don't think you're going to remember that anyways."
"Xander! What did you do with him? Where is everyone? Where's B-... B-... B-..."
"Buffy? I don't think she's coming Will." The doppelganger knelt down to meet her at eye level, but Willow couldn't keep eye contact anymore, she just couldn't stop gasping for breath, no matter how much she tried. With a mild numbness she felt her double grab the sides of her head and yank it into the bars, as if wanting to analyze something curious on her forehead. Just as suddenly Willow felt herself tossed back onto the ground, and the other Willow stood back up and laughed at her again.
"Oh, I see now! You're the soul and I'm… well, I'm the replacement."
"I don't understand! What's going on?"
"Really? You don't understand? Then let me explain; I - I mean we - are now a vampire."
"Whoah! I am not a vampire! I would have felt… urges, and stuff. Which I don't have!"
"Maybe using the plural was a bit of an exaggeration. But it doesn't matter. You're fading and soon you'll be gone forever. How about a progress report: do you remember who Giles is?"
The name sounded so familiar, like stern britishness and fatherly love put together, but Willow couldn't put a face on it. Her eyes widened as name after name passed her by; Xander, Buffy, Cordelia, Jessie; but none of them brought anything but more vague senses of familiarity. Mouth agape, her face fell into a blank, dead stare as she gazed at the woman on the other side of the bars.
"Where am I?"
The red headed woman looked at her inquisitively, a touch of sadness on her features, then smiled widely, laughing softly to herself as she walked away from the cage and disappeared past the bookshelves as the entire place began crumbling down around them.
Willow shot up into a sitting position, her gaze darting across the dull, empty warehouse she had been sleeping in. It took her a moment to realize she wasn't breathing. There was no noise coming from her, no subtle beats of the heart or whispers of a breath, just the quietness of the warehouse and the distant sounds of bustling activity outside that Willow was sure she could never had heard before. Pain lanced through her stomach as she stood and leaned precariously against the wall, trying to get her bearings.
Damn, she was hungry right now.
She could practically taste the blood coming from- well, just past the door on the opposite side of the room. It was almost shocking how naturally she could pinpoint how close and from what direction the scent was coming from. Walking over and opening the door, she found a dead woman lying at her feet, partially drained and smelling like she had been that way for around three days. Willow rolled her eyes in disappointment at the scraps and made her way over to the glass double doors leading out to an abandoned lot, pushing them open to revel in the cool night air whisping around her.
It was too much though, and she gasped as her senses assailed her from all sides. The dim bustling from within the warehouse had become an unrelenting torrent of sound, so loud yet still so distant, while each gust of wind brought in a new smell from another direction. Her eyes twitched back and forth across the abandoned concrete expanse as she tried to trace the disturbances through the currents of air, but a sharp pain in her stomach sent her keeling over again.
"Hey! You're not allowed to be here!"
The man was approximately ten feet in front of her. He was older, probably in his mid-fourties, tall and with broad shoulders, but he did not strike her as at all threatening or imposing. He seemed rather small, in fact. Once there was only one thing for her to focus her attention on, Willow found that her senses no longer confused her, and everything was easy to pinpoint; how fast his breathing was, how fast his heart was beating, how fresh the wound on his hand was…
"I was attacked," Willow lied, "I don't know I got here and- ow, I can barely walk and- OW!"
The man gasped as he saw her bend over in pain again, clearly buying the ploy as he gently approached her, muttering reassurances about how everything would be alright. The moment he touched her shoulder, Willow struck, her instincts faster than she could even comprehend as she darted behind her prey and pulled it into a headlock, exposing the pulse in its muscular neck. She breathed in the fear and sweat coming off his tanned skin in waves, its scent intoxicating, then pressed her fangs into the pulse.
The feeding only lasted for a few seconds, but the ecstasy of the moment made it feel much longer. Willow coughed as she suddenly hit air, having drained the entire body, and pushed the man away from her as his corpse collapsed to the floor. Satiated, and with a clear head again, Willow leaned back against the wall and took a moment to think.
"Oh shit!"
The slayer was going to kill her. There was no way that Buffy was going to let her run around with this body, and when the slayer found out that she had been turned, she would hunt her down. She needed to get out of town quickly, before Buffy found out about this, but running now could cause the slayer to chase her forever, and Willow definitely couldn't have that. The important question now was to convince the slayer that she was either truly dead or had left voluntarily without having been turned.
Willow strolled out of the warehouse district deep in thought, determined to find a solution, as she made her way toward the light and sounds of the Sunnydale.
The house in front of her was very familiar to her, as it should have been, since it had been her home for almost eighteen years, and yet it seemed so very unfamiliar to her now. Willow guessed that this was the lack of any sort of nostalgia, being that she no longer had a soul anymore. She had told herself on the long, boring walk over that she was just going to sneak in and steal some better clothes, without her parents ever seeing her, but then she'd had an idea, one that might solve all of her problems. Smirking at the thought of it, Willow bounded up the steps and knocked on the door.
The woman who answered the door was her mother, the key word being was. She had been never a very good parent, so demanding and yet completely absent, everything she had despised as a human. She was going to enjoy this.
"Willow! Where have you been?! You've been missing for over a day, we haven't heard anything from you at all since we got back, and you better have a damn good reason or-"
"Actually mother," Willow cut in, "I've been gone for about three days. Wonder why it took you so long to notice?" Willow flashed her a bright, innocent smile and waited for the hammer to drop.
"You get inside this instant and go to your room! Once I get-"
As soon as she'd heard the magic words, Willow put on her game face and threw the small woman onto the staircase. Leaping after her, Willow landed lightly on the steps, delivering a swift blow to her face to cut off her screams, then held the woman's head gently in her hands, watching her eyes sway back and forth as blood flowed from her broken nose. With a sneer Willow snapped her neck, breaking their gaze and leaving her deceased mother to roll down the stairs as the vampire continued upward.
Her father, who was upstairs watching the news as usual at this time, completely failed to hear or acknowledge the commotion downstairs. Willow stalked up behind him through the open door and stood inches away, staring blankly ahead. Did most vampires kill their birth parents after they were sired? She seemed to recall Angelus mentioning that he had done this, but she couldn't remember it being referenced with any frequency in her books. Of course, Angelus had done that because he was evil and vengeful, while Willow was doing this so she could be free from her controlling parents, her controlling friends, her controlling past, and this was the way to get it done. Sure, her parents were terrible, Willow reflected bitterly, but this wasn't about them, and she wouldn't be doing this unless it was necessary.
I really need to get my hands one those watcher diaries again, Willow thought. None of the vampires she'd read about were so morally philosophical about why they did things.
The small red headed vampire reached up and snapped her father's neck, letting his limp corpse broken fall to the floor before walking out of the room with a small smile.
A mess of clothes were scattered across Willow's old room as she searched for something else to wear. She'd need more after she left but a quick inventory of what she had made redhead decide that she could raid some shops once she got out of town. There was no need to attract attention to herself before she left, but wow, did she not like her options. She had never wanted to dress up like Cordelia or even Buffy, but she hadn't realized just how much she had been wearing what her mother had wanted her to choose. Even when her parents left on those long trips, Willow had continued to go along with it because that had been what her friends and schoolmates had expected of her. After all, just look at how they'd reacted to seeing the vampiric Willow earlier.
Well, the other vampiric Willow. The one that was probably dead now, or whatever you call a dusted vampire. And Willow was most certainly not going to lean toward her fashion choices, as they were preposterously attention seeking, and Willow didn't need that even if she hadn't gotten over her deeply suppressed desire for that kind of attention years ago.
Looking over her choices again with a long sigh, the redhead decided to go with the one of the outfits she had bought with Buffy, though it was likely that the slayer never expected her to wear it. Heading into the bathroom, the redhead did a double take at the empty mirror in front of her, laughing quietly at the novelty of not seeing her reflection. She'd just have to assume the clothes fit well, they certainly felt like they did, but she'd never actually tried them on with Buffy because she'd felt uncomfortable with the whole thing at the time.
Walking back into her room, Willow knew it was time for the next step of her plan, before the sun began to rise again. She sat on the bed and calmed herself down, her nerves fraying at the anticipation at the gambit she was attempting to pull. Willow wasn't sure she could pull off faking sadness at the moment, but she had to try if she was going to make this work. Steeling herself for the worst potentially happening, the excited redhead picked up the phone beside her and dialled a number.
Maybe she'll believe emotional numbness better than sadness though, Willow thought as she started the call.
The phone rang twice before Buffy's drowsy voice came through the line.
"Hello?"
Willow froze as she heard her former best friend's voice over the line. The flood of self doubt at this moment wasn't what she'd expected, and she really should have prepared more before jumping into this. Sadness or numbness? Which would the slayer believe more?
"B-Buffy," Willow choked suddenly, not wanting to change her mind again, "I n-need h-"
"Willow?" Buffy answered back with a quiet hopefulness, "Oh my god, are you ok? Nobody's heard from you since the incident, we were all worried that something had-"
"Buffy! I need you to come over. I- I think she murdered my parents."
Do you ever write something you really like, put it down for a week or two, and can't seem to get back into a character's head? That's what I felt when I wrote this. I seem to have difficulty writing with a consistent voice, even on the same day, and I don't really know why. I'll try to work on it. If you have any suggestions or just want to write a review, it'll be greatly appreciated.
I don't own of this either,
IoftheOwl