25. Loss of Life
A/N: Much thanx to my lovely and talented beta, Eowyn315!!! Thanx so
much, love :)
"Well, we don't have to worry about her
tonight," Buffy sighed as she
hung up the phone and went to sit on the couch beside Ms. Calendar.
"Xander said he walked her to her house. They got there just fine, and
she was going to bed, so I'm guessing that when and if Angel's going to
do something to Willow, it's not going to be tonight."
"I don't know, Slayer," Spike warned her quietly, his eyes solemn as
they met hers. "You called the boy, but I think you oughta call Red
herself. Make sure she's as safe in her bed as he seems to think she
is."
Buffy opened her mouth to reply, hesitating, uncertain how to voice her
reasons for not calling...but mostly, just not wanting to state the
painful truth.
She wasn't too sure that Willow wouldn't hang up on her if she called.
"As utterly perplexing as this may sound, Buffy," Giles spoke up
softly, rising from his seat in the chair across from the sofa with a
quiet sigh, "I believe Spike may be right. Perhaps it would be best to
call Willow...if only to instruct her to stay inside tonight, and at all
times after dark until we are able to figure this out."
Buffy knew that he had a point, as much as she hated to admit it.
Pouting in the general direction of the phone, she slowly rose to her
feet.
"I'll call her," Ms. Calendar volunteered, taking pity on the Slayer
and rising to make her way to the phone, as a very relieved Buffy sank
back down onto the sofa.
Before she could lift the receiver, the telephone rang under her hand.
The timing was clearly ominous. The four still gathered in the
Watcher's living room exchanged anxious glances, before the gypsy
teacher picked up the receiver and raised it to her ear.
"Hello?"
After a few moments, she spoke again. "Okay, slow down...why do you
think...? Okay, just a second...hold on just a second, I'll tell her, okay?
Just calm down." Ms. Calendar held the receiver away from her mouth as
she turned troubled eyes on Buffy. "It's Xander. He says after we
called him, he got worried about Willow and called her house. Her mom
went to call her to the phone...and she wasn't in her room."
"Oh, no," Buffy moaned, lowering her head into her hands for a moment
before rising once more. "I've got to go find her. It could be too late
already." She turned suddenly toward Spike, her piercing gaze locking
onto his. "When is this supposed to happen?" she demanded. "Do you know
that much, Spike?"
"Well, I'll know when it's close," the vampire replied grimly. "It's
sort of a result of something else that's gonna happen -- and when the
first thing happens...well, I'll bloody well know it."
"What's the first thing?" Giles asked, frowning.
"Angelus...Angel's gonna kill Dru," Spike blurted out, flinching slightly
at his own words.
"But how would that lead to his turning Willow?" Miss Calendar frowned.
"I mean, no offense...but isn't staking Drusilla...more of a 'good Angel'
thing to do?"
"Yeah," Buffy agreed in a disgusted tone of voice, "I mean...Angel
wouldn't just kill an innocent girl. But...if he's lost his soul again,
why would he stake Drusilla? That's pretty much a good thing as far as
I'm concerned, and more of an 'Angel' thing to do, isn't it?"
"He hasn't lost his soul," Spike replied, a warning growl underlying
his words at the tone Buffy had taken when speaking of his sire. "And
Dru was once an innocent girl, too, Slayer. Look what Angelus did to
*her*."
"We're not dealing with Angelus..."
"Yes, we bloody well are!" Spike's eyes blazed with frustrated fury.
"They're one and the same, Slayer, and you'd better get that, and right
bloody quick!"
"Drusilla's not dead yet, is she?" Buffy snapped, clearly determined to
change the subject.
"No," Spike admitted with an irritated sigh. "Not yet."
"Good. Then we still have time..."
"Buffy..."
"Look, we don't have time for this. I have to go find Willow," Buffy
insisted, turning abruptly away from Spike and heading toward the door.
Over her shoulder she instructed the others, "Tell Xander to come over
here. You'll all be safer together. Spike, you can come with me."
"Oh, can I? Brilliant."
Buffy glared at him, muttering, "Fine. Suit yourself, Spike. Whatever.
But if you really wanted to help me..." Her voice trailed off as she
stopped short just before reaching the doorway, surprised to see him
standing directly in front of her, a determined expression on his
troubled face.
"Of course I'll help, Slayer," he informed her softly. "Why do you
think I'm here?"
"I'm still trying to figure that out."
Spike did not respond to her snark, just stood there staring at her,
refusing to back down.
Buffy held his gaze for a long moment, before shaking her head and
waving him out the door ahead of her, muttering under her breath, "You
really *do* wanna help. Too weird."
"Slayer," Spike breathed darkly, pausing on the porch to allow her to
lead the way as she walked past him out the door. "You have no bloody
idea!"
They were barely to the sidewalk when the first shockwave of a very
physical grief hit Spike.
He knew without being told, without any evidence beyond the profound
sense of loss and disconnection that suddenly overwhelmed him --
Drusilla was dead.
"No," he moaned, shaking his head, dropping to his knees where he
stood, his arms crossed defensively over his chest as he swayed slowly.
"No, not my Dru, my princess, please, love, no..."
"Then, the crazy ho is dead? Good riddance," the Slayer remarked
flatly, deliberately turning her back on the poignant picture of grief
that Spike presented. She was the Slayer; she was not supposed to feel
bad when a psychotic menace like Drusilla died...but Spike's reaction was
breaking her heart. Swiftly, she tried to move on. "But that just means
that now Willow's in more..."
The attack was so sudden, so completely unexpected, that before she
knew what had happened, Buffy was on her face on the concrete, powerful
blows raining across her back and shoulders. Instinctively, she
reacted, not taking time to think about the shocking fact that Spike
had actually attacked her.
*And why is that shocking again? It's only the fifty millionth time
he's tried to kill you!*
She pushed up on her arms, throwing the snarling vampire off her and
swiftly rolling to reverse their positions so that she was over him,
struggling to pin down his flailing, scrabbling hands as he snapped at
her with glistening fangs, fury blazing in golden eyes.
"Spike!" she yelled in frustration. "What the *hell*!"
"Don't you *ever* talk about her like that, you bloody bitch!" Spike
yelled back, his struggles stilling as he glared up at her defiantly
through brilliant eyes glittering with a pain so raw it took Buffy's
breath. "She's more than that, she's bloody *amazing* -- a revelation
-- she's my *sire*, and you can't talk about her like that, you bloody,
soddin', *stupid* bint!"
Buffy tried to stay calm as she replied firmly, holding his gaze,
"Spike...she's *dead*. I'm sorry, but she is. And if we don't move fast,
Willow's going to be..."
Her voice trailed off, her eyes widening as she realized that the
fiercely fighting vampire of moments before had dissolved into a
sobbing heap on the ground beneath her. Spike's shoulders shook, his
wrists still pinned by her hands, and he turned his face away from her,
his eyes closed, soundless sobs rising from his throat as he shook his
head in what was either denial of the truth, or a desire for her not to
be there, intruding on his very personal grief.
The soft keening sound that left his lips tore at Buffy's heart,
despite her resolve not to feel anything for either vampire.
He sounded like she had felt when she had first realized that Angel was
gone.
"Spike," she said softly, her grip easing on his wrists as her hands
slid up to rest on his arms. "Shhh...it's okay..."
He shook his head again, and this time his meaning was clear.
It was *not* okay -- not at all.
Buffy knew that she had no words to offer to ease his grief, but she
didn't really mean to do what she did next, either. Still, somehow, in
the next moment she found that she had leaned back on her knees, gently
pulling the shattered vampire up with her and wrapping her arms around
him, just holding him close to her and rocking slightly as his body
shook with the intensity of his pain and loss.
*************************************
Angel was lost.
He was not aware of where he was, or what he was doing, only a sense of
warmth, and light, and a sweetness that surrounded him, consuming him
until it was a part of him, and there was nothing else. He savored it
-- the rich, mingled flavor that was innocence, power, and terror --
until he tasted the faint, sickly sweet flavor that he had tasted too
often to ever forget.
Death.
With a shock, he came to himself, drawing back and shoving away the
limp, unresisting form of the girl in his arms. Revulsion and horror
filled him, as he stared in disbelief at the pale, weakened body on the
concrete at his feet, and heard the faint, erratic sound of her swiftly
surrendering heartbeat.
Willow was moments from death...and it was his fault.
Buffy was going to kill him.
Angel panicked.
All he knew in that moment was that he could not let the girl's life
simply vanish away completely. He had gone much further than he had
intended, had lost control of his demon and taken too much blood. Now,
he wanted nothing more than to somehow take it back, to undo the damage
he had done, before it was forever too late.
*Forever*.
A desperate thought that he never would have considered under other
circumstances entered Angel's mind, and a wild, irrational hope seized
him with that thought. He could not give Willow back the swiftly ebbing
life he had unthinkingly stolen from her; he knew from experience that
she did not have as much time left as it would take to get her to the
hospital. No, he could not give her back her life.
But he could give her eternity.
And, better yet, if he was cautious and graced with a little good
luck...Buffy would never have to know what he had done.
He knelt beside the barely conscious redhead, listening closely for the
faint pulse that told him it was not yet too late. As he reached out to
pull her into his arms, she let out a soft, despairing moan -- and
Angel nearly wept with relief.
*Relief? *Relief*? You're about to commit the ultimate betrayal --
against Buffy, against Willow, against everything you've spent the last
century believing...you're about to...*
*Don't think. No time. Just act. Think later...*
Angel pulled Willow closer to him, cradling her still form in his arms
as he raised one shaking wrist to his fangs and made a clean slice in
his own flesh. He gently tilted Willow's head back, holding his
bleeding wrist over her slightly parted lips.
She was too weak by this point even to swallow the cool blood that
dripped into her mouth.
A few tense moments of gently massaging her throat led to a reflexive
swallow, and Angel was once again overwhelmed with a sense of relief --
not only because he had been able to get her to respond, but because it
was *done*, and for better or worse, there was no turning back. The
decision had been made, and all that was left was to play it out,
whatever the consequences might be.
Just then, however, his relief was shattered by the sound of a familiar
voice calling out into the darkness, and not very far away at all.
"*Willow! Willow, where are you?*"
Angel hesitated for just a moment, fighting back panic as he realized
that he was likely moments away from being caught quite literally with
blood on his hands, before he lifted Willow's nearly weightless, still
form into his arms and rushed off down the alley, away from the sound
of Buffy's desperate voice.
He needed to find a quiet, safe place where he and his new childe could
rest, until she awakened to the new existence he had chosen for her.