Part 11

Willow drank the scalding tea quickly, enjoying the comforting heat that spread through her chest. She set the delcate cup back down on Giles's antique coffee table, then snuggled back into the leather couch. Angel joined her there, taking one of her freezing hands and warming it in his own.
"Can you describe it for me, Willow?" Giles asked. "How did you know it was coming?"
She sat up a little. "I just. . .I knew. I could feel it. At first, I just felt sick, but then I could see it-- I recognized it." A tear bled from her eye. She wiped it away quickly, trying to keep it together. Angel held her hand tighter. "Giles, its dark. I've never even read about something this. . . rancid. It's pure to the core, too. Sheer despair." Her throat was closing now, but that didn't matter. "It took all the air out of the room. I couldn't fight it. I tried. . .with my mind but it was too powerful. I couldn't stop it!"
"Willow," Giles soothed. "No one expected you to stop it by yourself. It will take time to set up a proper binding--"
"We don't have time!"
"Willow, I assure you, you will be protected--"
"Not for me!" She drew in a hard breath. "For Xander and Buffy."
There was a silence.
"We all want to avenge their deathes, Willow."
"I'm not talking about revenge, God damnit, I'm talking about saving them." She looked into his eyes. "Giles, I have never been as sure about something as I am about this: Buffy and Xander were in that room tonight."
Giles stared at her for a minute, then dropped his eyes to his hands.
"That's entirly possible, I'm afraid.''
Willow moaned and Angel pulled her to him almost roughly. His eyes met Giles's over her head. . .and they were afraid.
***
Willow stretched painfully as she stepped into the mansion, and walked over to one of the windows in the garden. Her heart hurt as she stared out at the night sky.
Angel joined her there shortly, and when her placed his hands on her shoulders, she tensed and stood.
"Don't," she said coldly. He immediatly stepped backwards.
"I'm sorry."
"What for?" she asked, testing him. He didn't reply, only stared at her broodingly. "Because I'll tell you why I'm sorry. I'm sorry about how much time I've wasted--damn near a month-- while my friends were in that. . .that hell."
"Willow--"
"I'm sorry that I've been sleeping with my best friend's boyfriend while she relives her death over and over. I'm sorry that I'm supposed to be the world's last chance at light and I don't have any idea what to do. And I'm sorry that. . ." her voice cracked and she turned from him.
"Willow, if there's one thing I understand," he said, placing his hands on her arms. "it's--"
"God, don't touch me!" she yelled irrationally. "I--I can't do this, Angel. Not right now. I gotta get out of here."
She gathered her coat, and backed away from him. "Please don't follow me. I'll be alright. I'll see you. . ."
Her footsteps made a hollow noise in the mansions stone walls as she fled.

"I really messed up this time, Jenny." she said, settling herself on the cool earth above Janna's grave. "I have to do a binding on something, and I don't even know if it can be bound. Not to mention I've got to open the Hellmouth to do it, and how in the world am I supposed to control that? I don't even have enough people to cast a decent circle. God, I wish you were still here." Despite the time that had passed, she still missed Ms. Calander, very deeply. As much as she had enjoyed teaching the computer science class, it had hurt her a little bit every day to walk into the classroom and see all the rainbow-colored disks labled in Jenny's slanted handwriting, to find old grocery lists in the desk drawers, even a few letters that began "Dear Rupurt--" followed by weak words of apology. She had never found one that was finished, and she wondered if Giles had ever seen the final copy.
A yellow disk plopped into the grass in front of her, startling her out of her reverie.
She was on her feet in seconds, ready for attack. She found a short, thirty-something man in bad clothes standing before her.
"That's for you, kid." he said, then turned around to leave.
"Wait a goddamn minute. Who the hell are you?" she demanded.
"Whoa, I heard you were supposed to be sweet."
"Sorry, it's been a long night. A very long night. Now, who are you and what," she plucked the disk off the ground, "is this?"
"That is everything you need to do your little magic trick, compliments of Whistler."
"You?"
"Me."
"Yeah, Buffy told me about you. Funny, thought you'd be taller."
"Ouch, that hurt. You wound me. What is it with Slayers? You're all smart-asses."
Willow blinked. <I _am_ being a smart--ass. Huh, go figure.> All past attempts at smart-assedness had been roaring failures, probably because they were usually inaudible or immeadiatly followed with "I'm sorry"
"It's a trait," she said. "Where'd you get this information?"
"The texts of Canter. Yeah, I know, lost launguage, blah blah blah. Anyway, it's all there, everything you need. It's in English, too. Most of it, anyway. Anything I couldn't translate Angel probably can. Say hi for me. Good luck. See ya, sister." With that he turned and walked away.
Willow tapped the disk to her lips for a few minutes, then fled the cemetary.

It was easier than Willow would have expected to break into the library. Some quick jiggling on the delevery entrance lock and she was in.
She slid Whistler's disk into the a drive of her favorite computer. It took an incredibly long time to open the file, even longer for her to cross-reference the spell she needed. Whistler's translation was beautiful but incomplete, which led to more fun with research. By the time she was done, it was well into the morning hours. In fact, as she was standing, bleary-eyed, to leave, Giles came trotting in the front doors.
"Oh, good morning, Willow--Willow? What the devil are you doing here?"
She pointed to the copy of the disk she was leaving him. "That should explain everything, and since we can't do it until tonight, I'm going home to sleep." only it sounded more like "whaanaaweenaaadyeeaaa sleep." because she was yawning the whole time.
"Y-yes of course," he said, patting her on the shoulders. "I'll have a look at it as soon as I can."
He watched her leave, her steps uneven. "How the hell did she get in here?"

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