Falling Backwards

Author: Jami

Parts: 31 -34

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
 
 
 
 

~Part: 31~

Willow inhaled sharply, her eyes opening for the first time in hours. Her bedroom was still bathed in darkness, but one look at her clock told her it was now past ten in the morning. She had never been more grateful that it was a Saturday in her entire life. She struggled to sit up, her muscles cramped, protesting any movement. Sliding off the bed, her bare feet hit the ground and she padded to her closet. Slipping a comfortable cotton robe over her form, she cinched the waist tightly and slowly made her way out into the hall.

Her eyes squinted as she descended the stairs; the curtains in the living room pulled back, the windows letting in the bright sunshine. Licking her dry lips, she paused at the foot of the stairs as she heard muffled noises. She could hear pots and pans being moved about and what sounded like a low voice. She shrugged and headed toward the kitchen. Xander must be talking to himself again.

Pushing open the swinging door to the kitchen, a tiny smile came over her increasingly sullen face. Xander, his hair in a tangled mess from sleep, was clad in blue flannel pajama pants, a white t-shirt, Snoopy slippers, and a frilly pink apron. He was cooking eggs on the stove and buttering toast at the same time. When he noticed her presence in the doorway he grinned brightly and waved her over.

"Morning Will," he greeted happily. The redhead merely nodded, still a little drowsy.

"What time did you get in last night?" she wondered as she hopped onto a stool at the kitchen island. "I got back around two and you weren't home."

"I was sorta hoping you didn't notice," he admitted with a sheepish smile, consciously avoiding her gaze. "I got in a little after three." He turned his back to her, his attention now focused slowly on the scrambled eggs he was making in the pan.

Willow reached for the morning paper, idly scanning the front page for any interesting headlines. Her brow furrowed when she heard Xander start to hum lightly. Xander never hummed. "Why are you so chipper this morning? I went to bed earlier than you and I'm still dead on my feet."

"I am not chipper," he denied, not bothering to turn around to look at her. "I just woke up this morning in a relatively good mood, so I decided to get up, make use of my day and make you breakfast."

"Why *are* you making me breakfast?" she asked, suddenly suspicious as she watched his shoulders tense. "You don't cook."

"Hey now," he pouted, forcing playfulness into his tone, "I wanted to do something nice for you and-"

"Xander." she sighed, cutting him off, "what did you do?" She realized that came out a little more accusingly than she intended, but something was up. He was going out of his way to get on her good side this morning and was way too perky considering the rather awful night they had.

"I didn't do anything," he denied, his voice a little too high. "Can't I just be nice to my bestest bud in the whole wide world. You've been down lately and I-"

"What did you do?" Willow repeated, an edge in her voice that hadn't been there a minute ago. "Look at me," she demanded, her voice hard, when he still kept his back to her. Slowly, Xander turned on his heel, regarding his friend cautiously. "Now tell me what you did."

"I told Angel." All the breath left her lungs and her limbs felt numb, but anger also blazed inside her. She didn't need to ask what he told Angel, she knew all too well. Her eyes closed and she rested her head in her hand, unable to bear looking at her best friend at the moment.

"You told Angel," Willow shook her head. "I can't believe you."

"Will," Xander started, placating. "Come on. Be reasonable."

"Angel," she bit out, her voice rising with every word she uttered. "How could you? Are you trying to gain us more enemies, as if the First isn't enough?! I mean, come on Xander. He's been hounding me ever since he figured out there was something up with us and you just went and spilled the beans! What the hell were you thinking?"

"I was thinking he could help," he replied softly, head bowed shamefully.

"Help?" she snorted derisively. "You shouldn't have told him anything. I can handle this on my own."

"Yeah," Xander added sarcastically, "because you've been doing such a good job of that lately."

"What are you saying?" she nearly growled, pushing the stool she was seated on away from the island, now standing, hands on her hips.

"I'm saying you aren't handling this at all!" he shouted, running a hand absently through his messy locks. "You're losing it, Wills. We need help. We can't do this alone."

"We, we, we," she laughed bitterly. "What is all this 'we' stuff, Xander? What have you done? When we first arrived here, did you research and find out what had changed? When Angel was demanding information, what did you do? Nothing, that's what. You've done nothing!"

"You don't mean that," Xander muttered dejectedly.

"I don't?" Willow shook her head sadly. "It's the truth. Whenever we got in trouble, I was the one to deal with it. I fixed it. And I'm not saying it'll be easy, but I'll do it, I'll fix things again."

"Why can't you just accept the fact that we need help?" Xander pleaded with her to listen.

"Who is going to help us, Xander?!" she asked him, her tone quietly desperate. "Angel, who hates us both, me in particular; Giles, who doesn't trust us; or maybe Buffy, who will be so hurt when she finds out what we have been hiding from her. Who's left, Xand? No one, we're on our own, again."

"He said he would help," Xander assured her softly, taking a step toward her agitated form. "He wasn't lying. And we can use all the help we can get. You can't do this on your own, Will. It would be suicide."

"I-" she exhaled, some of the fight leaving her. It was still so early in the morning and she still didn't have all her wits about her yet. All she knew was that this was not shaping up to be a pleasant day. "I can't even look at you right now," she ground out through clenched teeth, shaking her head disappointedly.

"Willow," he said, throat tight. "I didn't betray you. I'm just trying to make things better."

The redhead seemed to ignore him completely, acting as if he had never spoken. Instead, she ran a hand through the tangled strands of her hair and glanced at the clock above the sink, muttering to herself. "I'm gonna take a shower," she said listlessly, sparing Xander a tiny glance. "Just.stay away from me, for now."

Xander watched his best friend turn away from him and his shoulders deflated noticeably. His eyes were sad, concerned, and even held a hint of devastation. He felt like there was nothing he could do to reason with her, that she was falling further away from him with everyday that passed and he had no idea what to do to bring her back to him. He blinked and looked to the door she had just walked through, now swinging idly on its hinges in her wake. He could hear her footsteps dragging along the carpet of the stairs and sighed hopelessly. "I was just trying to help."

~~~~~~~~~~~

Xander slowly made his way into the relatively deserted high school, trailing through the maze of darkened halls expertly, steps halting as he reached the entrance to the library. Angel, not to mention Buffy and Giles, would be waiting in there for him. In reality, they were waiting for both him and Willow, but Willow wasn't going to be there. In fact, he hadn't seen her since she had walked out the front door of the house they shared, freshly scrubbed and dressed to face the day. That had been early afternoon. She hadn't spoken to him, or even looked in his direction for that matter, since he had confessed his late night visit with Angel. She was angry, which he understood in a way. But more than that, she seemed hurt, and he just didn't know what to do to heal her pain and anger. She was slowly becoming more and more withdrawn and bitter as time went on and he felt helpless to stop it.

Knowing he was only stalling now, he pushed open the double doors and stepped inside. His footsteps slowed and came to a halt as he met the gaze of Buffy, who was seated at the table in the center of the room. Angel was leaning against the counter, looking idly about the room. Giles was standing off to the side by his office, polishing his glasses just like he thought he would.

Merely looking at Buffy was difficult for the young man. She had this wounded expression on her face and he felt a sharp pang in his heart knowing that their secrets hurt her. She thought they were best friends. Best friends wouldn't hide things like this, at least not for all this time.

"Where's Willow?" Buffy asked softly, unable to hold Xander's apologetic gaze.

"She's.uh.not coming," he stammered, shuffling his feet a bit awkwardly. He spared Angel a pointed glance. "She's a little mad at me right now."

"Only a little?" Angel countered, unable to help himself.

"Stuff it, Deadboy," he muttered, disgruntled.

"I suggest we forego the petty bickering this evening," Giles advised wisely, giving Angel a look that just screamed 'you should know better'. "We have more important things to discuss. Although I do wish Willow was here, she would be an invaluable asset."

"She pulled a vanishing act on me today," Xander shrugged, "I don't have a clue where she could be."

"What do you know?" Angel snorted, "Xander doesn't have a clue. Who would have thought?"

The sound of Giles clearing his throat rather loud and harshly stopped Xander from coming up with a suitable retort. He settled for simply glaring murderously at the vampire before returning his attention to the flustered librarian and his sullen slayer.

"Now then," Giles began in his most authoritative voice, "Angel has filled us in on your discussion from last night and while I am hesitant to accept such a fanciful tale, I find myself believing you. But the question remains as to what can be done to vanquish the First."

"You can't vanquish the First Evil, G," Xander interrupted. "The best we can hope for is to beat it into submission, and even that is pretty damn hard to do."

"How did you defeat it before?" the watcher asked with an exhausted sigh.

"You know how," Xander frowned. "I told Angel."

"I know," Giles countered, exasperation in his tone, "but I have the feeling that you left much out of your account of the-uh-previous Sunnydale. I need those details."

He was right, Xander had to admit. But that didn't mean he was planning to tell them anymore than he had to. He had only given Angel the barest of facts. That life was past and he preferred not to remind himself of it, besides, some of it had to do with some not so flattering details about Willow and he wasn't about to share her deep, dark secrets without her permission.

"They wouldn't help," the young man denied. "Believe me; you know all you need to know. Just leave it at that."

"As you wish," the librarian acquiesced, but it was obvious he wasn't pleased.

"So where do we start?" Buffy broke in quietly, trying to be helpful and ignore the tension permeating through the room.

"The thing about the First," Xander started, crossing his arms over his chest, "it's non-corporeal. And since it can't actually *do* anything, physically that is, it always needs an accomplice, of the corporeal variety." His lips turned down slightly in a frown and his eyes narrowed in thought.

"Do go on," Giles pressed, reluctantly intrigued.

"Last time around, the guy in charge was a psycho preacher named Caleb. He was." he trailed off, unsure how to describe him. "I don't know. He was more than meets the eye, that's for sure. He was strong, and fast. He had the bringers under his command and with the First telling him all our secrets and whereabouts, we were at a huge disadvantage. He was good, deadly, oh, and he had a penchant for quoting the Bible."

"Thank you, that last bit was ever so helpful Xander," Giles rolled his eyes.

"Could he be the one in charge?" Buffy interjected.

"I don't know," Xander admitted half-heartedly, "Could be. But everything is so different now, so who knows?"

"So, we've got nothing," she reiterated, her shoulders slumping.

"Pretty much," he agreed sadly.

"I-I think I'll go patrol, pound on some demons," Buffy decided, standing abruptly. "See if they know anything, that sound okay Giles?"

"Yes, fine," he murmured distractedly, waving his hand about. "Be careful," he added softly, worried now that they knew the entire situation with the bringers.

"Can I." Xander hesitantly began, looking to the blonde now nearing the double doors. "Want me to come with you?"

"No," she replied abruptly before feeling bad at the despondent look on his face. She shook her head and smiled, but it was strained. "Not tonight, Xan," she amended softly, trying her best to be gentle.

"No problem," he tried to reassure her although his attempts were half-hearted at best. "Maybe next time."

"Yeah," she agreed quietly. Giving Angel a curt nod of goodbye, she grabbed a spare stake and slipped out of the library, eager to be alone, to think.

"You may as well sit down," Giles advised the two men still lingering about, standing awkwardly. "We have research to do. I do believe we are in for a long night."

~~~~~~~~~~

Buffy stalked through the cemetery silently, not even the soles of her shoes making a sound as she tread across the slightly damp grass. Her evening so far had been disappointingly uneventful, nothing more than a few fledges running about to dispatch. Even knowing that her chances of finding a decent fight were slim to none, she kept on. Every nerve in her body felt on edge, and while she knew in her mind that it wasn't wise to go looking for trouble when she was so emotional, she didn't stop her rounds. This was the only way she really knew how to deal with her pent up feelings of frustration and hurt, especially since she couldn't turn to her best friends for support this time around. After all, they were the ones who put the hurt there in the first place.

She wasn't angry, that much she knew. She was confused, and pained at the knowledge that Willow and Xander had kept such a large secret from her all this time. It had nearly been two years, two years that they had known each other. Years that she spent ignorant of the lies all around her. What made it worse was that they were her best friends and she didn't know what to do without them, but at the moment, she had no desire to be around them.

Weaving her way around an array of crumbling tombstones, the blonde tucked a few errant strands of hair behind her ear and bit her lip in contemplation. She still hadn't had enough time to process everything Angel had told them that day. Truth be told she was still in a bit of shock. Giles, on the other hand, being every bit the stuffy Brit that he was, took things in stride, amazed and doubtful but using this as an opportunity to learn. She could practically picture him frantically scribbling in his watcher's diaries already. A ghost of a smile appeared on her face but then faded too fast.

At least this explained some of their strange behavior. Xander had always seemed goofy, but lately he had become more and more serious, and his reaction that night they had found the bringer had startled her. And Willow, she was distancing herself farther and farther away from them all as time went on. The redhead had always felt a little on the outside of everything, she had confessed that much to the slayer, but she had never been this withdrawn before. But now Buffy could understand a little better. They were scared. And honestly, she was scared too.

The First was serious business and Buffy had never been so unsure of herself in the face of battle before. There was so much they still didn't know about their enemy. Add that to the fact that they were about to face off with the mother of all evil, and it nearly made her quiver in her overpriced boots. She didn't know how they were going to pull this off. A job like this would take team work, and right now the gang was dissolving at a frighteningly rapid pace.

A twig snapped and Buffy spun on her heel, stake clutched harshly in her fist, hand rose in preparation to strike.

"Hey," Angel offered, hands in the air defensively, a hesitant smile on his handsome face, "it's just me."

"You scared me," she muttered, turning away from his penetrating gaze, eyes on the ground. The stake fell to her side once more and Angel took a tentative step out from the shadows of the trees and into the clearing of the cemetery. He took a moment to study her in the moonlight, her blonde hair luminescent, shoulders hunched, fists clenched. She looked like she had lost her best friend, which was oddly true enough.

"You shouldn't be patrolling if you're not going to pay attention to your surroundings," he admonished her softly, sympathetic to her pain. "You could have gotten hurt if it wasn't just me sneaking up on you."

"Angel," she sighed, finally looking back up at the vampire. Her eyes were bloodshot and tired, mouth down-turned into a frown. "Please, no lectures. Not now, not tonight. Besides, I thought you were still at the library."

"Sorry," he apologized, feeling like a heel all of the sudden. "And I snuck out," he admitted sheepishly. "Find any leads on the First?"

"Nope, nada, zilch, nothing, big fat zero," she rambled with a roll of her eyes.

"I'm guessing that was a no," he smirked with an amused shake of his head. "So." he started after an awkward moment of silence, "how are you?"

Buffy opened her mouth, ready to respond, but then shut it. Truthfully, she wasn't sure exactly how she felt. "I don't know," she admitted with a shrug. "They are my best friends, Angel. With the exception of you and Giles, they are the only ones who know me, all of me. And they have been lying to me since we met."

"Maybe they were just trying to protect you," he offered.

"You're defending Xander and Will?" she snorted incredulously, "Never thought I'd see the day."

"I never said what they did was right," he argued patiently. "They lied to all of us, to you, and that isn't right. But they did it because they love you," his last two words were nothing more than a whisper and the blonde broke their gaze, a little uncomfortable. "I can understand that. You'd do anything to protect the person you love."

Buffy cleared her throat nervously and shifted a bit, trying to avoid Angel's knowing gaze. Angel sighed and looked away from her in slight frustration.

"So if patrol's a bust, why don't you come back to the library with me?" he suggested. "Xander is still there pretending to look busy and Giles has managed to have his nose buried in three books at one time."

"I think I'm gonna keep going," Buffy replied, her tone a little cool. "The night's still young and all."

"You can't avoid them forever," Angel stated bluntly when she took a step forward to walk away. "I know you're hurt, you're entitled to be, but avoiding them isn't going to fix anything."

"Don't you think I know that?" she demanded, turning to glare at him, her voice almost a yell. "Do you think I *want* to feel like this? To feel like they betrayed me? Here's a newsflash Angel, I don't. They are my friends, my only real friends, but I can't just forgive and forget already. It's too soon, give me a little time to deal, will you?!"

"Well don't take too long," he nearly growled. "You're survival depends on those two. Hell, the only things standing between life as we know it and hell on earth are Xander Harris and Willow Rosenberg. The thought alone terrifies me."

"Don't worry," she returned, a little of the fight leaving her, "I know what we have to do. I know we need to work together, no infighting or pettiness. We'll get this done, save the world yet again. And then."

Angel waited a beat for her to finish her thought but she remained quiet. He took a step forward and laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, some of the tension in her dissolving at his touch. "Then what?"

Buffy looked up at him, smiling slightly at the concern she saw etched on his face. "Then we'll all have a very long talk."

~Part: 32~

She had always been quite the early riser, especially since moving to Sunnydale. Mostly that was due to the class schedule she kept every weekday, a definite change from the rather laidback life of the gypsies that she descended from. Having a nine to five job wasn't exactly new to her, but many of the remaining members of the Kalendash preferred a much simpler way of life. But being a techno-pagan suited her, and while her choice to come to Sunnydale hadn't been so much hers, but that of her clan, she had truly begun to like it there, despite the dangerous night life. But today she took advantage of the rare opportunity to sleep in.

Jenny Calendar greeted the Sunday morning with a small smile, padding her way down the hall to her bathroom and soaked in the warmth that came from the steam of her hot shower, it helped stave off the chill of morning.

When she was done getting cleaned up, she moved to the mirror over her sink, wiping away the remnants of steam that fogged up the glass, studying her reflection. She had no plans for the day, so shrugging she grabbed her hairbrush and a hair-band, choosing to simply pull her dark strands into a ponytail instead of bothering to blow dry it.

Clad in a pair of jeans and a long sleeve shirt in a hunter green that accented her eyes, it always had been her favorite color; she walked, comfortably barefoot, into the kitchen to fix a late breakfast. Her eyes fell to the clock on the counter and she shook her head when she noticed the time. She was moving very slowly that day; it was already almost noon. But she didn't let that bother her, after all, everyone deserved one day of absolute laziness, right?

After finishing her rather meager breakfast of toast with jam, she sat down at her kitchen table, coffee in hand, and opened the front section of the newspaper. She had made it to the third page when the knocking started.

It wasn't loud by any means. In fact, the sound was soft; as if the person waiting on the other side wasn't sure they wanted to be acknowledged. Jenny frowned, pausing a moment, in case she was just hearing things. A second later another round of knocks came.

With a quizzical expression, the brunette stood, folding her paper neatly on top of the table, and headed into the living room. One glance into the peephole caused her puzzled expression to give way to utter surprise and she quickly unlocked the door, standing awkwardly in the doorway, looking at her visitor with an unsure smile of welcome.

"Willow," Jenny greeted the tiny redhead, her voice a little timid. "Hello."

The redhead in question fidgeted a bit, wringing her hands anxiously as her eyes darted about, never landing on the computer teacher once. She had left her house in such a hurry that morning, throwing on some jeans and an old Sunnydale High t-shirt in her haste to get away from Xander.

"Hi," Willow said, her voice hoarse.

"Um," stammered Jenny uncertainly, "w-would you like to come in?"

A single nod of the head was her only reply and Ms. Calendar took a step back to allow her passage. "Thanks," she whispered as she stepped past the older woman, moving awkwardly into the living room.

"Do you want coffee?" Jenny offered amicably, sending a gentle grin her way, an attempt to soothe the obviously nerve-wracked redhead. "I made coffee."

Willow shook her head at the offer and remained as still as a statue just inside the entry way. As if just noticing, Jenny shut the still open front door abruptly and stepped further inside her house.

"Please," she implored, radiating kindness, "have a seat. Make yourself comfortable." She waved a hand in the general direction of the sofa and Willow walked with small, hesitant steps, toward the couch, sitting down on the cushions ever so gently.

Jenny took a seat beside the young witch, brow furrowing in concern as she observed Willow's stiff posture. The girl's pain and anger were pouring off of her, that was obvious, but she also seemed to be shrouded in a cloud of despair and uncertainty. She could only guess what had caused such emotional turmoil, but she had some ideas.

"You know about." Willow prompted, leaving her quietly muttered sentence unfinished as she looked her once dead computer teacher in the eye for the first time that morning.

"About your spell?" the brunette replied, giving her a small nod. "Yes, I-uh-got a phone call from Rupert-Mr. Giles, yesterday. He filled me in on everything."

She had been working on debugging a laptop for one of her friends when the call had come in. Rupert had sounded so stressed, and he was doing that weird clucking thing which was never a good thing. She had offered to come down to the library to talk, but he refused. And then he proceeded to just blurt everything out. Xander's confession to Angel, Willow's tampering with the timeline, the appearance of the First, and their now frantic search to find whoever was acting as the First's right hand man or woman as the case may be.

She was fully prepared to meet the gang at the library to start researching, but he had told her not to bother. There wasn't much to be found that night, it could wait a night. So she had remained at home, her feelings somewhere between shock and incomprehension. She knew Willow was powerful, she could feel it in her bones, but she had no idea that tiny girl held that much raw power within her. It was little intimidating to be honest.

Willow nodded, confirming her suspicions. The twosome remained sitting in complete silence for a good five minutes before Willow let out a sigh, long and drawn out.

"I'm sorry about just.showing up here," admitted the witch, running a hand through her slightly messy hair in frustration. "I just.I didn't know where to go and I.if I stayed there, with him, I don't know.it would have been badness. Badness would abound."

"It's okay Willow," she assured her pupil, laying a tentative hand on her knee in a show of comfort. "Really, I understand."

The snort the redhead let out was most unbecoming and Jenny pulled her hand back in surprise, hurt showing in her eyes. "You don't-can't understand," Willow denied fervently.

"I can try," Jenny returned, voice steady and calming. "If you let me. You can talk to me Willow. I know we aren't.close. But, you haven't really let anyone be close to you. You've even kept your friends at a distance. You need to open up to someone. You know.speak candidly."

Willow smiled grimly. There was only one person since their return to Sunnydale that she had spilled all her secrets to; who, while not considered a friend, could be trusted to not judge her. The fact that her confidant was a murderous vampire struck her as insanely absurd and yet oddly comfortable.

Here she was, given a chance to confide in someone, a person who in her earlier life had been her mentor, but could she take it? She had spent months feeling so alone, becoming used to the pain of loneliness, that the idea of 'sharing her feelings' was absolutely distasteful.

"How about-can you at least tell me why you are so angry with Xander?" Jenny started, Willow's stony silence making it obvious that the witch wasn't about to start the conversation.

"He went behind my back," she replied, a coldness seeping into her tone that hadn't been there a moment ago. "He didn't trust me to deal with this on my own. He didn't trust me, period."

"Willow," the brunette interrupted, placating, "He was just trying to help. You need help. You can't be expected to do this all on your own-"

"Why not?" she remarked angrily, forcing her fiery gaze away from the computer teacher. "I've been left to fix everything else on my own. Whenever something went wrong, I had to fix it. Xander never helped, never lifted a finger. And now he's so proactive?" she asked incredulously.

"Maybe he realized that one person can't deal with this alone," Jenny tried to explain. "The First.that's big, Willow. You couldn't possibly deal with that on your own."

"You don't understand!" she sighed in aggravation.

"Then make me understand!" Jenny exclaimed in equal annoyance, growing tired with her attitude. She just wanted to help, but Willow seemed determined to not let her.

"Xander-he acts like this just happened to him and him alone, you know. Like his life was the only one that was changed," Willow grumbled, giving up sitting still for pacing. "Life was-life was bad, but we could have dealt, you know? People die, but we manage to go on somehow. But he was just so.broken. I couldn't just leave him like that. And he begged me, you know. He begged me to make it better, to-to take us back. I said no, I told him it was a bad idea. But it was Xander and I just-I couldn't refuse him. Not when he was so desperate. So I did it, I sent us back. And ever since I've been dealing with the repercussions of our actions while he alternates between moping and ignoring our problems entirely."

"Will-"

"I hate it here," she muttered dejectedly, interrupting Jenny without apology. "I-my friends aren't even really my friends anymore. We don't talk. That trust that was there before is gone. It's not the same. It was *supposed* to be the same," she argued adamantly. "Everything's so wrong."

"Willow," Jenny murmured, taken aback by the weight of the sadness radiating off her. She stood, reaching a hand out to rest on her shoulder, to stop her pacing.

The redhead visibly flinched at her friendly touch and stepped away from the older woman, shaking her head.

"I shouldn't have come here," she mumbled, angry with herself and her sudden impulsiveness. "I know you're just trying to be nice, lend a 'sympathetic ear' and all that, but I can't do this now, okay? You were right; I just needed to get some things off my chest. But I have to go now," she declared, spinning on the balls of her feet and heading for the door abruptly.

"You're wrong," the gypsy announced, trying to halt her movements. "You need to talk to someone about all this. It's not good to hold it all in. You've been doing that for months now. It's not healthy. You need someone to talk to."

"I know, I do," she assured her hurriedly, eager to be gone. The room felt small, stifling to her all of the sudden and she desperately needed to be gone, needed air. "Thanks for-" she trailed off, shrugging. She wasn't sure what to thank her for. Thanks for the hospitality? Thanks for listening to me rant? Thanks for simply opening the door in the first place? In the end it all seemed so inadequate, so she settled for rushing out the front door, barely shutting it behind her in her haste to anywhere but there.

Jenny was left staring stupidly at her now closed door, shaking her head. Well there went her nice peaceful afternoon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

She watched him with weary eyes, tired from both lack of sleep and pure exhaustion. She was always tired nowadays; she was beginning to grow used to it. Resting in her bed, lying comfortably against black satin sheets, her raven hair spread across her pillow as she studied his silent form.

"Spike?" He didn't move. Seated across from her in an overstuffed armchair, shoulders hunched, sitting forward, hands tented under his chin in the typical 'thinking man's pose'. Drusilla frowned slightly when he ignored her, knowing it was nothing personal but still a little disappointed. He had a lot on his mind, but she still didn't like it when he failed to pay attention to her.

He had been home for a few hours, but he had spent most of that time pacing restlessly. Whatever happened the night before obviously bothered him. Eventually he had come in to check on her, and had remained in her room, seated in that chair, lost in his thoughts. She had tried a couple times to get his attention, but he never responded. He was too busy thinking. A dark frown clouded her face and she turned to Miss Edith who was resting at her side. Dru's forehead crinkled in concentration as she listened to the hushed whisperings of her dear doll, hoping she could shed some light on Spike's despondent behavior.

Dark eyes bored into his still form and a slight knowing, understanding smile spread across her tired but delicate face. "She clouds your thoughts." Spike began to perk up in his chair, her words finally getting through to him. "You saw her last night; I can still smell her in the air."

For a moment he appeared contemplative before his shoulders slumped once more and he fell back into the chair, a dark look on his face. "She's just some daft bird," he dismissed with a grunt, "forget about her. She's nothin'."

"You're wrong," she tsked disapprovingly, her face darkening at his denial. Dru opened her mouth to speak again but he cut her off abruptly when he stood with speed.

"Sun's down soon," he muttered, face still set in a confounded and annoyed expression, "I need some air. You'd do best to get some rest, pet," he advised, sparing her the barest of glances before striding purposefully out of the room, shutting the door firmly behind him as he went in search of a way out.

Drusilla let out a long sigh, head tilted to the side as she looked to her now closed door almost contemplatively. Scooting further under her slippery satin sheets, she let her head finally come to rest comfortably on her pillow once more, slowly closing her eyes, letting sleep overcome her once more. "Foolish boy."

~Part: 33~

Her afternoon was spent stewing in her own anger and mounting frustration. Left on her own with nothing more than her thoughts to keep her company, naturally her sense of betrayal only began to compound. She tended to over-think things, she knew that, everyone knew that, but she didn't realize how mad she had allowed herself to get until she registered the stinging pain in her hands. Her hands had been curled into tight fists, the tips of her fingernails digging in harshly into her palm. Looking down, Willow took note of how close she had come to drawing blood and shook her head, the glaring red half-moon indents staring up at her.

Two o'clock in the afternoon had found her sitting on a park bench, staring blankly at the swing sets and slides that were currently being played with by a small group of children, no more than five or six years old. Her gaze shifted to the little sandbox just off to the side where a boy and girl sat, making sandcastles.

She remembered a time, even though the memory seemed like ancient history, when that was her and Xander. They were inseparable, playing together, counting on each other, keeping each other's secrets. Apparently Xander wasn't so good at that last one anymore, she thought bitterly, barely resisting a derisive snort.

She didn't want to be mad at Xander, in fact she hated being mad at Xander, but at that very moment she couldn't stop herself. There had been a time, when they first came back, when Xander didn't even want to be associated with Buffy and the rest of the so-called Scooby gang, and now he was telling them everything and he didn't even have the courtesy to warn her before he ran to Angel to spill the beans. Sure, the circumstances had changed, the situation they were in was more serious, but she was still so damn sure she could figure a way to fix this without their help, without them knowing a thing. Besides, she never thought she would have to worry about Xander taking the initiative; he hadn't really been of much help until then, why would he start now? But she obviously underestimated him. This whole ordeal with the First was getting to him and he was desperate, in a way she couldn't blame him.

Desperation she could understand. These past few weeks had been hard on her, both physically and emotionally. She didn't sleep well anymore, and the stress of keeping all these secrets from the people she was supposed to trust implicitly was getting to her. But still, she fought to keep her head high, to carry on like a good little soldier. She had survived her revisit to the hell mouth thanks to her own ingenuity and smarts, and while her situation was looking continually worse, she had been so sure she could do it again. She trusted her abilities. It hurt to think that Xander didn't.

As the day went on and the sun moved across the sky, eventually draping her seated form in shadows, an unsettling feeling gathered in the pit of her stomach. She felt useless, here she was, sitting and pouting while her friends were gathered in the library researching like there was no tomorrow. Willow sighed, fidgeting, her hands in her lap. She didn't like that feeling, this whole sitting and doing nothing wasn't her thing. That was more Xander's gig, or Cordelia's.

Part of her wanted to get up, brush off any lingering anger and sadness away, and march to the library. She was research girl after all, that was her place. But she couldn't. At that moment, she couldn't bear to look at Xander. His lack of trust in her, the fact that he ran to Angel instead of her when he was in trouble pained her beyond belief. She wasn't sure what her exact reaction would be if she saw him now, whether she'd cry or smack him, but either way she knew it wouldn't be pretty. And she was willing to bet that no one in that room, save her best friend, would welcome her presence. She and Xander had lied to them all for so long, and with Buffy, trust was everything.

Going to the library was definitely out of the question. Glancing at her wristwatch, eyes straining to see the time in the growing darkness, she took a deep, considering breath. She stood slowly, determinedly, tightening the jacket around her to stave off the chill that came with dusk.

The brooding redhead wasn't about to just sit here and do nothing, especially now that dark was soon approaching and the monsters would be coming out to play. She had sworn to herself before that she could deal with the First, on her own, and she was going to do it, even if just to spite Xander. Willow couldn't resist a frown at the bitter thought and she shook her head. Resolutely she straightened her back, squaring her shoulders, a calm, cool, almost emotionless look overcoming her features. She had to push Xander out of her thoughts for now; she could deal with him later. She had more important things to do.

She had to go see a bartender about a demon.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness of Willy's bar. The sun was almost down and had turned the sky a brilliant mixture of pink and orange, but the dank demon bar she walked into was void of any natural light, mostly black with only a couple lamps or wall fixtures lighting up the place.

Pausing a bit in the doorway, Willow scanned the room. Because it wasn't full dark yet there weren't as many customers as there usually were. There were a couple of vamps who, by the look of them, were pretty smashed. They probably had come the night before and stayed the day, drinking to pass the time. She turned her nose up in disgust and easily dismissed them as any possible threat.

A cold smile crept over her face when she saw the familiar form of the short brunette bartender walk out from the back, a dirty rag in his hands, and make his way behind the bar. Willy, just the lowlife she was looking for.

"Hiya Willy," she greeted as she strode in his direction, a confident swagger to her walk. Her voice was as perky as ever, but he couldn't mistake the look in her eye. She meant business.

Swallowing convulsively, the greasy little man tried his best to smile in greeting, but it came out more of a grimace. "Hey kid," he stammered, looking around nervously for any sign of trouble, or more specifically the Slayer. "What brings you my way?"

"There's a new big evil in town," the redhead replied conversationally, giving him a sickly sweet smile. "Know anything about it?"

"New evil?" he coughed out a nervous laugh, hands wringing the rag still in his hands. "Nah. But you know, these guys," he said, motioning absently to the various demons congregated in his bar, "they don't tell me much since the Slayer started paying visits here, you know? I ain't heard nothing."

"Now Willy," she sighed dramatically, giving him a disappointed look, "you're lying to me. I don't appreciate that. I've been having a bad day. Do you really want to make it worse? I've been told I can be a real bear when I'm cranky."

Willow leaned in closer; to make sure their conversation would be kept private and away from prying eyes and ears. "You and I both know the First is back," she hissed, eyes narrowed. "No use in denying that. You'd have to be blind, deaf and dumb not to know that and we both know you're not blind or deaf," she smirked. "So I'm gonna give you another chance to be helpful, or else I might have to break out the mojo. And trust me; I can be a whole lot scarier than the Slayer. Now, who is helping the First?"

"I don't know," he replied, his voice becoming frantic when she scowled at him with a look of death. "Honest kid, I don't know! I wasn't lying really. They don't tell me much anymore, but I.you know.I hear things. Stuff I'm not supposed to."

"And?" she asked in a bored tone, growing tired with their conversation.

"And." he drawled in his nasally voice, "I know where you might be able to get some info. I heard a group of guys talking in here a couple days ago. They were going on about the First, sounded like they had some inside information, you know? You might be able to get them to spill the beans. Just threaten them with that magic of yours, or tell 'em you'll sic the Slayer on 'em. They'll help you."

"If you're lying to me I'm going to find out," she warned him.

"I'm not lying," he swore. "They're, uh, frenier demons. Ever heard of them?" At the shake of her head he explained, "They're about your boy Angel's size. A little scaly, but who's really paying attention. They'll help ya. Just tell them Willy sent you."

She stepped back, giving him a little more breathing room, and eyed him considerably. Her skepticism must have showed on her face because he looked her in the eye and smiled brightly, trying to be reassuring. "Trust me," he assured her, "They're really not bad guys."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spike had been wandering aimlessly about town for almost an hour. His steps were slow, leisurely, his boots scuffing as he dragged them along the sidewalk. His mind was elsewhere. He had already sated his hunger earlier that night, but was still in no mood to head back to the factory. Drusilla would be there and while he loved her like family, he couldn't take her inquisitive looks and insightful mutterings, not now. He hated feeling confused, but it was quickly becoming a feeling he was growing quite accustomed to since he found himself in good ole Sunnydale, U.S.A. There were days when he truly hated this pathetic little town and all the people in it, most especially a redhead witch who seemed determined to mess with his head.

The sound of a scuffle perked up his ears. Always one to enjoy a good spot of violence he ambled toward the sound of fighting, a smirk across his handsome face.

"Not bad guys." he heard a familiar voice nearly growl, strain obvious in her tone. His stride quickened and he turned a corner to the entrance of one of Sunnydale's many cemeteries. "I'm gonna kill him," he heard her mutter, disgruntled. "Then I'm going to bring him back, and kill him again!"

The redheaded bane of his existence was surrounded on all sides by four demons that nearly towered over her. He could see her lips moving, but couldn't make out the words. A bright, nearly blinding light shot out from her palms, sending the one on her left and the other on her right flying backwards. One slammed into a tree with a sickening crack before sliding to the ground. At the very least its back had to be broken, he certainly wasn't getting up anytime soon. The other hit a granite tombstone, breaking it into unrecognizable pieces. He didn't stay down though; instead he pulled himself up and with an angry growl started in the witch's direction.

Spike glanced back to the girl. He could tell from the way she held herself that she was nearly drained. She had resorted to hand to hand combat instead of relying on her magic. He held back a flinch when she was struck violently across the face.

Before he realized what he was doing, he was moving. He was in a full out run; reaching the third demon that he had seen hit the tombstone before he could touch the girl, and with practiced skill wrapped his hands about its head and neck and twisted. The body landed on the ground with a thud and he turned his attention once again on Willow.

Willow let out a short yelp of both surprise and pain when a kick sent her flying back. She hit the hard ground and felt all the air rush out of her chest with a groan.

Spike saw her sail through the air and ran to her aid, picking her up from the ground and tossing her over his shoulder with ease. He bit out a curse when the two remaining demons spotted him. "Bloody hell," he growled, securing his grip on her before turning and making a break for it.

He could hear the thundering footsteps of their pursuers on his heels, but he had speed and agility on his side as he wove through the cemetery, in and out of rows of tombstones. When he could no longer hear them, he slowed his pace a bit and ducked inside a formerly locked mausoleum, relieving his burden on the marble tomb with a heavy sigh.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Ow!" Willow yelped involuntarily, glaring up menacingly at the one who was trying his best to help her, despite his best interest. "Watch it," she growled through clenched teeth, her hands tightening into fists in her lap as he continued to clean her mostly superficial wounds with surprising gentleness.

His only reply was a grunt and roll of the eyes at her disgruntled display. "Sit still," he ordered gruffly, finally getting the last bit of blood and dirt off her face, tossing the now soiled rag onto the dusty floor.

Willow squirmed, unable to stop herself, as she sat on top of the marble slab in the middle of the drafty, but thankfully abandoned crypt. Her head was pounding; it felt as if there were miniature soldiers marching to a beat inside her skull. She licked her dry lips and winced when he tongue hit the fresh cut on her bottom lip. At this point, she was just fighting to keep her eyes open. She was tired, exhausted really, and smarting from a few unexpected and well-placed kicks and punches.

Meanwhile, her reluctant savior was peering at her face with a critical eye. The redhead was tempted to tell him to go shove it, even if merely on principal alone, but he was helping her. The least she could was feign gratitude.

"You're gonna have quite the shiner there, Red," Spike smirked, as if mildly delighted by her pain. She snorted, and then flinched at the soreness in her ribs. His eyes glinted with mirth in the darkness and she couldn't hold back her scowl.

"So glad you find my pain amusing," she hissed in annoyance, her hands now bracing the edge of the tomb, ready to push herself off.

Heaving a great sigh, Spike took a step forward and shoved her back into her seated position, glaring at her sternly until he was sure she wasn't going to try to move again.

"What the hell did you think you were doing tonight?" he asked bluntly, frowning down at her with his leather clad arms crossed over his chest, legs spread shoulder-width apart. He eyed her, his face hard. Her clothing was a bit worse for wear, a couple tears at the knees, but nothing too bad. Her hair was wild, and if he was correct, there was a tiny leaf still stuck amidst the vibrant red strands. Reaching forward he plucked the foreign object from her hair and granted her a raised brow. A leaf it was. He didn't find her face, or at least what had been done to it, nearly as amusing.

Her right eye was already beginning to swell up, the skin around starting to darken. She'd definitely be walking around tomorrow with a wicked black eye. Her lip was cut and had just stopped bleeding. Her right cheek looked to be bruised, but she had no broken bones, he had checked thoroughly. And there was a tiny cut above her right eye, which had bled profusely, as most head wounds tended to do. Her ribs were sensitive, he was betting on severely bruised but not broken, and it was possible that she had twisted her ankle, but he couldn't be sure, she refused to let him see. Stubborn bint.

Willow resisted the urge to smirk at his tone, he almost sounded concerned, but mostly he seemed pissed. Good ole Spike, so predictable sometimes. But she had to admit, he had a point, what the hell had she been thinking? The answer, she hadn't been. It had been a very long day and she would be the first to admit, although not to the likes of Spike, that she hadn't been thinking straight.

"I so don't need a lecture from you," Willow grumbled, breaking what little eye contact she had with the bleached blonde in order to study her feet.

"Funny," he bit out, growing frustrated with her. "It sure as hell seems like it. I never thought you were daft, but after your little stunt tonight, I guess you proved me wrong."

"Hey," she interrupted; lips pursed together, obviously irritated, "lay off." She shifted a little and fought a grimace, knowing that he would still catch it with his ever watchful eye. "Look," the witch exhaled slowly, "don't think I'm not grateful for the save and all, but it wasn't necessary. I was fine on my own."

"Are you bloody bonkers, pet?" Spike nearly shouted, his rumbling voice echoing threateningly off the walls of the crypt, but she didn't flinch once. She had grown quite used to his tantrums over the years, before everything went crazy. Well, crazier than normal. "I find you, trying to have a nice little chat with a bunch of sodding frenier demons, and you think you would have been fine!"

"It was no big deal," she shrugged off, eyes darting about the room.

"Have you looked in a mirror?" he growled, his eyes glowing eerie amber in the low light, a testament to his fury. Spike was pissed. He wasn't sure exactly why, but that didn't change anything. He shouldn't give a damn that she could have gotten herself killed that night. He didn't want to care that he found her bruised and bloody but still fighting that group of rather temperamental demons. He certainly shouldn't be a little proud that she had managed to hold her own for so long before he had stumbled upon them. But still, he was all those things and more. But mostly, the vampire known as William the Bloody was pissed.

"Not lately," she returned smartly, choosing to ignore his angry snarl.

"What the hell possessed you to make you think it would be a good idea to just go looking for trouble?" he demanded, his jaw clenching in aggravation.

"Why do you care?" she responded, voice raised daringly. "It's none of your business. I had things to take care of, and I was. It may not have been the smartest thing to do," she amended with much reluctance, "I may have been a little rash in my decision, but I could have handled it. I didn't need you to run in and save the day. I'm not some sorry little damsel in distress and you sure as hell don't look like a knight in shining armor here."

"So this is what I get for helping you," Spike grumbled angrily, "Bloody white hats. Next time, remind me not to bother."

"Gladly," she smiled with false sincerity and he glared at her.

"Oh hell," he sighed with a dramatic shake of his head. His hand came up to rub the back of his neck, a gesture that spoke of his tiredness and frustration more than words could. "Just this once, can you level with me pet? What were you doing out there?"

She didn't know if it was the honest to god curiosity in his voice, or the soft, almost hidden pleading that got to her, but she opened her mouth and it all just came pouring out in a rush.

"I just.I had to do something, okay?" she started, a little defensively. Spike had a blank but intrigued look on his face, ready and prepared for the inevitable babble that would ensue. He had learned quite a few things about the little redhead since their first meeting and he knew, first and foremost, the girl was quite the talker.

"I've been-Xander and I had this fight," she explained and he was tempted to sneer contemptuously at the mention of the boy, he remained stone-faced. "It was kinda big, huge really. And I stormed out, I just couldn't be around him, you know? He made me feel-he didn't trust me. Everything I've done has been to help him, our friends, but he doesn't trust me. The second there's a big problem, does he come to me? Does he let me handle it? No, he runs to them, to Angel! I mean, come on! He hates Angel. He doesn't think I can do it. He doesn't think I'm strong enough.

"He won't say that, of course. It's not like him. But that's the truth. So I left. Spent most of the day wallowing if you want me to be honest. But I couldn't just sit there and feel sorry for myself. I'm the smart one, research girl, I'm *not* useless. I'm not," she swore, her voice shaky. "So I-I went to see Willy. We.there's trouble, demony trouble, what's new? And we don't know who we're looking for exactly. But Willy, he's got connections, you know? So who better to turn to? And he told me about these guys, the frenier demons, who might be able to help. He said they'd have some information for me.

"What he failed to tell me was that they aren't really fans of, well.people," she frowned darkly. Spike smirked at the look in her eyes. Willy should be expecting some serious payback from the little witch for that. "I found them, we talked, it didn't turn out so well. And I still don't know anymore than I did earlier today," she mumbled dejectedly. "You were there for the rest."

She got this weird look in her eye and she glanced up at him, and Spike felt uneasy not for the first time that night. "Why were you there?" she asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "And more importantly, why would you help me? We're not exactly what I'd call friends."

Blue eyes became unreadable and his body was noticeably tense, but Spike still didn't respond. Why did he help her? That was a question he wasn't sure he wanted to answer. She was right. They weren't friends. He was a vampire, they didn't have pals. But he couldn't deny there was something there. Call it what you will, an understanding, camaraderie, whatever it was. He sure as hell didn't know what she was to him, but he certainly didn't want her dead. That was why he had saved her when he had stumbled on her one-man suicide mission. Until he could figure out what she was to him, he wanted her around. He had begun to realize that the night before.

He had tried to dismiss her, but he knew Dru didn't believe him. He didn't believe himself. And he wasn't about to admit to Willow that their frenzied kiss the night before had left him a little more than shaken in its wake.

"I was out for a bite to eat," he replied dismissively, waving her off and turning to look away from the tiny woman seated before him. "Just happened to stumble on you." Which was the truth. "Lucky for you I did. Otherwise those friends of yours would be finding bits o' Willow on their next patrol."

She nodded absently and her hands played with the hem of her shirt, a nervous habit. "You gonna thank me, love?" he added snarkily, unable to resist.

"Thanks," she muttered, a tinge of resentment at having to be saved in her tone.

"Bloody hell," he grumbled, rolling his eyes as she remained silent. His eyes darted to the door of the crypt that they had run to for shelter, noting that it was still mostly dark outside. If they made good time, he could get her home and be back at the factory before the sun came up. "Come on, witch," he sighed, taking a small step toward her and pulling his duster around him a little tighter. "I'll take you home. You need to sleep and if I let you go on your own, some fledgling will get ya. Mover yourself, will you?"

"I-" she stammered a bit, the normally strong, arrogant tone she reserved just for him gone. She sounded like a little girl, tired and disheartened. His eyes fell shut and his head fell back as he sighed inwardly, cursing his very nature. If there was one thing he couldn't stand, it was a sad woman. Unless he was responsible for it, which he most certainly was not. "I'm not ready to go home. Xander will be there and I-I don't want to deal with him right now. I don't want to deal with any of them."

"Can't say I blame you," he muttered in total agreement. Hesitantly, he approached her, moving to sit beside her on the tomb, and Willow watched him warily.

"I don't need a babysitter," she informed him tightly. "Go away. Go home. I'll be fine."

"You'll be fine," he said mockingly, sneering at her. "You'll be fine. You keep saying that, pet, but you're not fine. Any idiot can see that."

"I guess any idiot just did," she replied smartly, wilting a little under his harsh glare.

"You're falling apart at the bloody seams and you're too daft to see it," he informed her, not bothering to be gentle or calming. "You go from one mood to the next in the blink of an eye. And you nearly got yourself killed tonight. You think that's fine? You think that confronting a group of sodding demons, in your state of mind, was smart of you? If you ask me you're acting loonier than Dru. If I hadn't been there to save you-"

"You think I'm happy I needed to be saved!" she interrupted angrily, jumping up from her spot on the tomb. "The only person I have relied on since I came back to this hellhole is me. Believe me, that fact that I needed *you* to save me doesn't exactly sit well with me," she ground out.

"Oh hell," he groaned, rolling his eyes and latching onto her arm to pull her back down. "Sit down and get over yourself, will you?" When she looked like she was about to argue, he silenced her with a look.

"Look," he sighed, holding her gaze with a grave expression. "I've done the whole lone wolf thing. You know, rely and depend on myself and nobody else. But I've got news for you pet, it doesn't work. Going it alone will only get you killed," he said with a raised brow daring her to say anything. "You may be having a tiff with your mates, I don't really give a damn, but going up against a group of demons on your own because you're too proud to ask for help doesn't make you brave, just stupid."

"I'm not stupid, Spike," she muttered, breaking their gaze to study her feet. "But I made this mess and I'm going to fix it. If I thought I could trust them, then maybe.but I already know Xander doesn't trust me, not enough. I can do this."

He frowned at her cryptic remarks, not completely sure what she was talking about. Her head dipped a bit and her eyes were closed, her breathing slowing. He knew she had to be exhausted and unless he just picked her up and dragged her home, he knew she wasn't going anywhere tonight. With a sigh he stood, tapping her on the knee to get her attention.

"Lay down," he said, with a nod toward the slab she was currently sitting on. A puzzled look crossed her face and he rolled his eyes. "You're about to pass out and if you fall off and land on the floor I'm not picking you up."

She made a face at his gruff declaration but did as he said, her movements slow, mindful of her injuries. She laid on her back, turning a little to her right and tucking her legs in closer to her chest as the chill of the marble worked its way into her skin.

Spike caught sight of her slight shiver and frowned. With quick movements, as if he had to do it before he changed his mind; he shrugged off his duster and tossed it to the half asleep girl.

Willow blinked in surprise before rearranging the leather to drape over her form, shielding her from the cold. She watched as the bleached blonde moved to sit on the stone floor, his back against the far wall as he dug out a cigarette and his lighter.

"Uh," she hesitated, watching as he took a deep drag before exhaling, the smoke curling about his face. "Thanks," she murmured softly, for the first time she was completely sincere but Spike said nothing. The only sign that he had even heard her was the sharp nod of his head before he went back to studying the tendrils of smoke before him.

Unsure of what else to do, she let her eyes drift shut as she descended into a tormented sleep, ever mindful of the pair of icy blue eyes that continually fell on her slumbering form.

~Part: 34~

Willow awoke slowly, her eyes blinking lethargically as she fought to make out shapes in the darkness. She registered the feeling of the hard, cool marble on her back and exhaled a bit when she finally remembered where she was.

Her eyes adjusted to the darkness swiftly, partly due to the thin rays of sunlight that peeked out from the cracks in the doorway. She pushed herself up into a sitting position, stifling a groan at the stiffness in her muscles. The leather duster that had been used as a makeshift blanket creaked as it slipped from her shoulders to settle about her waist.

She surveyed the unnaturally quiet crypt for any sign of her reluctant savior. Her expression was decidedly puzzled when she noticed he was in the same spot he had been when she had fallen asleep the night before.

Spike was as far away from her as he could manage, back propped up against the hard stone wall, legs stretching out before him. His arms had long since fallen to his sides and his head was tilted back, eyes closed, resting against the wall. Willow stirred a bit, shifting to get a better look at him. She had never seen someone look so.dead. He didn't look asleep, his chest didn't rise and fall, his mouth wasn't parted to allow for a breath to be taken, he didn't even move in his sleep. He was as still as the bodies that lay in that very tomb.

An involuntary shiver worked its way down her spine at her morbid observation and she shook her head, trying to shake away the disturbing thoughts. Slowly, with every effort to be as silent as humanly possible, she carefully slid off the marble slab, her feet meeting the floor with barely a sound.

One glance at her watch told her it was well past morning and she found herself grateful for that fact. Early afternoon would most likely find Xander with the others, gathered in the school library, and not at her house. She wanted to go home. Scratch that, one look at her grass and blood stained clothing assured her that she *needed* to go home. Maybe take a hot bath, something to soothe her achy bones and calm her fevered mind. Yes, a little alone time was just what the doctor ordered.

But before she could leave, her attention came back to the soft leather still in her hands and the blonde on the floor. She bit her lip, feeling unusually indecisive. Should she wake him? Say thanks for watching out for her? Somehow she was sure he wouldn't take it very well. After all, it isn't a very demony thing to do, saving a girl's life.

In the end she settled on walking over to his slumbering form and carefully draping the duster over him, hoping in vain to warm his eternally chilled skin. With one last awkward glance she frowned and headed for the door, opening it with much care to make sure the stray rays of sunlight didn't scorch the sleeping vampire. Soon enough she slipped out into the relative safety of the afternoon sun and away from one of the most confusing vampires she had ever met.

~~~~~~~~~~

Her house key slid easily into the lock on her front door, the deadbolt releasing and allowing her entrance. Willow made her way inside, limping ever so slightly. Her ankle was still bothering her, no doubt aggravated in part from her walk home just then. Her leg hurt, her ribs were sore, and she really wasn't looking forward to see how her face had fared. If Spike's predictions had been correct, her face would be an unattractive mixture of black and blue.

She walked to the stairs, her steps slow and calculated. She was trying to make this whole thing as painless as possible. She had survived much worse injuries before, but add her wounds to her physical fatigue and it made for quite the unbearable day.

Wasting no time in her bedroom, she grabbed a pair of jeans and loose white peasant blouse and went into her bathroom. She bypassed the mirror and instead turned the knobs at the edge of the bathtub, filling it will ever warming water. Soon enough steam began to rise and satisfied that it was sufficiently warm she finally let her curiosity get the better of her.

The walk to the mirror wasn't far, only maybe two or three steps. She stood in front of it, hands braced on the edge of the sink to help shift some of her weight off her ankle. She gazed at her reflection with resignation and tinge of sadness. Spike had been right.

The green of her eye was barely visible in her right eye, the skin so swollen and bruised that if left her almost squinting. Her cheek was pretty sore, but the bruising wasn't too bad, neither was the cut above her eye. But the fat lip she was sporting certainly stood out. For some reason the redhead couldn't resist a small laugh at herself. She looked like she had been in a bar fight.

Seeing that the bath water had reached the height she desired, she swiftly turned off the flow of water. Minding her sore ribs, she undressed stiffly and sank into the welcoming warmth, closing her eyes with a sigh as her head came to rest on the cool rim of the tub, her tense muscles relaxing as they began to soak.

She was forced from her peaceful distraction when she noticed the skin of her hands beginning to shrivel. With a heavy sigh she stood slowly, pulling the plug on the drain and watched sadly as the water swirled and disappeared. Dressing was much easier than undressing it turned out. The jeans were easy enough to get into, and because the blouse she had chosen was made of a light gauzy fabric it had been a synch to slip over her head and over her aching torso.

Not in the mood to bother with drying her hair, she moved to mirror once more, deciding to simply pull it back into a ponytail and be done with it. Her appearance may not have changed that much since she had first arrived, but still she smiled slightly at her reflection. She felt much more relaxed and refreshed, and for that she was grateful.

Shuffling out of the now humid bathroom, steam billowing out into the hall when she opened the door, she spied her half open bedroom door and frowned. She had been so sure that she had closed that when she had left.

Giving the door one good shove, it swung open as she leaned against the doorframe for a little extra support, any sense of calm leaving her when she saw a familiar form seated on the foot of her bed, looking up at her plaintively.

"Xander," she acknowledged tonelessly, all the anger, hurt, and frustration she had pushed back resurfacing abruptly.

"Will," he sighed, his breath catching at the sight of her and her injuries. He jumped up from his spot on her bed, on his feet instantly and taking a step forward, only stopping at the look of unease on her face. She didn't want him near her he realized and he couldn't help but feel despair at that. "God Willow, what happened to you?"

"It's no big deal," she shrugged as impassively as she could, her chin falling to her chest.

"No big deal-" he stammered, reaching out a hand toward her instinctively before letting it drop, knowing his touch wouldn't be welcome. Unsure what to do with himself; he stuffed his hands in the pockets of his baggy jeans as his gaze fell to the floor. "You're hurt."

"It looks worse than it is," she assured him, her voice softening to that almost motherly tone she reserved just for him.

"How did." he trailed off, unsure how to form his question. He was too emotional to think straight. He wanted nothing more than to go to her, to take her in his arms and comfort her, soothe her hurts, and then kill whoever hurt her. It would be the proper best friend thing to do. But she didn't want him touching her, she didn't even want to speak to him, and that thought hurt like a physical wound.

"A couple of demons," she muttered, shifting uncomfortably in the doorway, "thought they had some information on the First that I could convince them to share. They weren't very receptive," she smirked humorlessly.

"What were you doing going alone?" Xander asked incredulously. "You should have let one of us come with you. I would have gone with you."

"I know," she agreed with a bow of her head, "I didn't want you there."

Xander winced. Now *that* hurt. She didn't want him there. She didn't want him at her side, watching her back. He didn't think that inexplicable pain in his chest could get worse, but hearing her utter those words so casually, without emotion, proved him wrong.

"You're mad at me," he said, looking up at her once more. His brown eyes were pleading with her to understand, but she wasn't sure she was truly ready to forgive and forget, not yet. He fought the urge to move another step closer to her, but remained rooted to his spot on the floor.

"You're mad at me," he repeated, more firmly this time. "I get it. And I don't blame you. I should have at least told you what I was going to do before I did it, but getting in a fight with some demons isn't the answer Wills. You could have been killed and why? Because you're angry with me?"

"I'm not 'mad', Xander," she countered, green eyes shining with pain.

"You're right," he interrupted. "You're hurt. And you are always reckless when you're hurting."

"Excuse me?" she hissed, eyes narrowing as he stood a bit straighter.

"You're reckless," he stated, his earlier worry shifting into a hint of anger. "When Oz left, you were hurting, and you got reckless. You remember that whole 'my will' spell, right? Like any of us could forget it." He ignored the pain in her eyes. He had a point to make and he needed her to listen to him.

"And then after you brought Buffy back," he continued, "and everyone wanted you to cut back on the magic, you were hurt. And you almost got Dawn killed when you took her with you to see Rack, because you were reckless. And then-" he paused, having to swallow the lump that had begun to rise in his throat, "then, you were hurting so badly when Warren shot Tara-"

"Shut up." The order was growled out of clenched teeth and Xander stopped mostly out of surprise.

"Willow," he sighed, voice noticeably softer, "I didn't mean-"

"Don't bring her up," the witch warned him in a low voice. "You have no right."

"I'm not-I," he stammered. "God I'm screwing this up," he muttered to himself. "I'm just trying to make you see. You're hurting right now but isolating yourself isn't the solution. You're not the only one dealing with this. They're angry at me too, you know."

"You brought this on yourself," she retorted, voice thick with emotion. "You were the one who decided to tell them everything. I don't care how you're 'dealing' with this. You're the one responsible for this *entire* situation in the first place!"

"You want to put all the blame on me?" he countered softly, sadly. "That's fine. You're right. Coming back here was my idea. But you were with me every step of the way, Wills. I'm just trying to get you to see that you're not alone in this. Buffy, Angel, they're here and they are willing to help. And yes, things are bad but.you have to give them a chance."

Xander took a step forward, knowing the move was unwise but unable to care. Willow's jaw clenched at his approach and her stance stiffened.

"We used to be amazing together," he sighed wistfully. "The Scooby Gang. We were a well oiled machine, you remember? We.things aren't the same, but maybe, just maybe, they could be."

"Things can't be the same, Xander," she said in a cool tone. "We aren't the same, neither are they. The trust that was there before is gone. We have secrets they know nothing of. And you think they aren't keeping secrets from us?" she snorted cynically.

"So that's it? You're throwing in the towel?" he asked with a hard, challenging stare.

"No," she countered with a glare.

"Why won't you just give us a chance?" he pleaded with desperate eyes. "We can beat the First, I know we can. But we need to work together, don't you see that?" A tense silence filled the room, the redhead unwilling to budge and the brunette at a momentary loss of words. Xander's shoulders slumped, his head bowing. "Can you.just come with me? Just come to the library with me, just this once. You'll see; they're on our side. They really are Wills. Just give them a chance. Give us another chance to work like a team."

He could see her resolve wavering under his persistence so he remained perfectly still, his eyes boring into hers with intensity. "Please." he murmured, a breathy whisper.

Her jaw tightened and he absently wondered if her teeth were cracking under the pressure. Her eyes fell shut and she sighed audibly, her body slackening a bit. "One chance," she muttered unhappily. "You get one chance."

Xander nearly collapsed from the weight of his relief and he granted her a grateful smile. "That's all I need," he swore to her. Slowly, almost unsure, he extended his hand, waiting for her to take his silent offer of thanks and friendship.

After a beat she slipped her slightly clammy hand in his in a loose grip and he squeezed her hand tightly, smiling brightly. It wasn't forgiveness, but it was something, and that made him happier than he had been all day.

"Let's go."

~~~~~~~~~~~

The knot in Willow's stomach got tighter and tighter as she approached the library. She didn't want to be there, didn't want to be around Angel's accusing stares or Buffy's pained glances. But Xander had practically begged her to come with him and even as furious as she was with him, she had rarely been able to refuse him anything. She would try this once to do what he asked, just come and give them a chance to work together again. And a small part of her that wasn't consumed with anger or hurt hoped that things would work out between them. This was a fight that couldn't be won alone, and the reasonable part of her knew that.

She trailed after Xander with reluctant steps. Soon enough he was pushing open the double doors and walking in, his pace slowed as he waited for her to catch.

"Hello all," Xander greeted the trio inside with a grim smile, not nearly as genuine as usual. "Look who I brought," he added, stepping to the side to make sure that everyone got a look at Willow.

Willow watched their reactions to her appearance closely. Giles had glanced up from his book in mild acknowledgement only to do a quick double take when he spied her injuries. But being the proper British man he was raised to be, he remained silent, only nodding in her direction and returning his attention to the tome in his hands.

Buffy didn't look that thrilled to see her. There was no real anger on the Slayer's face, but it was obvious that the blonde had been hurt by their deception. Her eyes widened when she caught sight of the bruises across the redhead's face and she opened her mouth as if to say something before thinking twice and picking up her dropped jaw, staying surprisingly silent.

Angel was hovering by the edge of the table in the center of the room, covered in shadow. The library's curtains had been kept shut to keep out the afternoon sun. His eyes had been glued to the doors the minute he had heard a heartbeat, then two. Seeing Xander was no surprise, and in a way he wasn't amazed that the boy had convinced Willow to join him despite her fury towards him. But he hadn't expected to see the little witch walk through those doors with a sullen step, face black and blue. He raised a brow and cocked his head to the side in curiosity.

Xander cleared his throat awkwardly and latched a hand around Willow's arm, dragging her behind him and further into the room. He fell into a seat beside Buffy while the redhead took the farthest seat away from the group, sitting gingerly.

"Any progress?" the younger brunette asked, desperate to get some sort of conversation started and get the attention off Willow.

The annoyed and frustrated sigh that Buffy expelled was all the answer he needed. Shrugging to himself, he glanced at Willow and gestured toward the monstrous pile of books in front of her. "Might as well crack open a book there, Wills. It's research time." The awkward, goofy grin he sent her way did little to calm her nerves and she hastily grabbed a heavy book, quickly becoming engrossed.

Xander's smile fell when she barely acknowledged him and he sighed internally, grabbing a book of his own and settling in for a long afternoon.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"I'm afraid this isn't working," Giles muttered in utter irritation as he took off his glasses, polishing them furiously.

Night had fallen and yet there they all were, still sitting in the library, noses buried in old, musty books.

"There's nothing in any of these," Buffy huffed, shoving her book away from her angrily. "They barely mention the First. 'Big evil.non-corporeal.unstoppable', blah, blah, blah. This isn't getting us anywhere."

Willow sat back in her chair, just listening to their slight bickering. She had no desire to add her two cents, at least not then. Everyone was tired and aggravated by their lack of progress, interrupting them wouldn't have been a good idea.

"We need to mobilize," Buffy declared with a stern expression, looking to Angel for backup. "Sitting around here isn't going to get it done. We need answers."

"And what do you suggest, Buffy?" Giles sighed with a roll of his eyes.

"Bringers," she announced with a firm nod, sharing a glance with the lone vampire across the room. Willow's eyes narrowed. It was obvious those two had been collaborating.

The watcher perked up in interest and he slipped his spectacles back on. "Go on," he prompted.

"Reading isn't going to get the job done," Angel picked up for her. "We need inside information."

"And who's closer to the First and its right-hand man than the bringers?" Buffy finished with an eager expression. "If we grab one, maybe-"

"That won't work."

All eyes turned on the redhead at her declaration. Her voice was hollow, unemotional and Buffy frowned at the witch. Angel crossed his arms over his chest and Giles glanced at her in exasperation.

"Why not?" the blonde asked, slightly defensive.

"Bringers won't talk," Willow informed them impassively. "I agree, research isn't going to work, but a bringer isn't the answer. Find another way."

"Doesn't seem like your way worked very well," Angel commented offhandedly, eyeing the marks and cuts on her face. "I assume that's how you got hurt, right? Maybe trying to.weasel some answers out of a couple demons?"

Willow had to bite her tongue to remain silent and Angel nodded to himself in confirmation.

"What was your plan, Buffy?" Giles pressed, ignoring Willow for the moment.

"I figure we draw them out, we fight, I grab one," she shrugged. "It might take some-convincing, but I can make him talk. Eventually."

"I'm telling you-" Willow started, but was quickly cut off.

"It sounds plausible," Giles agreed, face drawn.

"You can do all the 'convincing' you want," the witch interrupted harshly, her anger at being completely disregarded growing. "They won't tell you a thing. They're loyal, too loyal. You won't get any answers; you'll just be wasting your time."

They didn't even look at her, Willow couldn't believe it. Buffy and Angel were looking at the floor, studiously ignoring her protests, and Giles' head was bent, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. She turned to Xander, the only ally she truly thought she had.

"Come on Xand," she tried again. "You know I'm right." When he turned away from her, something inside her just broke.

"It's the only plan we have," Xander admitted gravely. "It's worth a try."

"You've got to be kidding me," she groaned. "Giles," she tried to reason with the watcher, "trust me, this won't work. You need a new plan. Any new plan."

"Trust you?" came the murmured response from the Slayer. Willow was standing now, and she turned her attention to the blonde who was nearly hunched over herself. "How can we trust you?" she whispered sadly. "You've been lying to us this whole time. I-" Buffy stopped herself mid sentence, not wanting to get into that right now. They needed to find a way to defeat the First, then they could hash this out. "By a count of hands," she announced, sounding a little more confident and put together, "who's with me? We grab a bringer?"

Willow stubbornly crossed her arms over her chest and took a step back to get a better look at the entire group. Buffy had raised her hand, as did Angel, which was no real surprise. Giles seemed to consider his options for a second before tentatively raising his hand as well. There was no point in turning to Xander, she had already been out voted, but she couldn't stop herself from glancing at her best friend. His head was hanging shamefully, not looking at her at all, before his hand slowly, hesitantly left his side to rise in the air.

The redhead sniffed and shook her head in utter disappointment and dismay. "That's it then," she nodded, her stomach twisting painfully. "I've gotta get out of here," she mumbled to herself, turning stiffly on her heel and heading for the door.

"Will-" Xander called out from behind her, frantic.

"Don't waste your breath," she muttered with a backward glance.

Xander stared forlornly at the now swinging double doors of the library, Willow now gone from his sight. She had given them one chance, he commiserated miserably, and they had blown it. He had blown it. More than that, he had let her down.again.

The tense, awkward silence was broken by Giles' uncomfortable cough. "Uh," the Englishman started, "I suggest we get working on a plan. We need to act soon."

Buffy nodded in agreement, trying to ignore the stinging pain in her heart, "Yeah, so here's what I was thinking."

~~~~~~~~~~~

Willow ignored her surroundings, not worried for a second about vampires and the like. She was too angry, too-she just felt too much. Disappoint, sadness, anger, exhaustion, frustration, she was teaming with all that and more.

She walked with purpose, in the back of her mind she acknowledged that, yes, she had a destination in mind, but her conscious mind paid it no attention. She just needed to be far, far away from them all.

The vaguely familiar crypt loomed in front of her threateningly amongst the shadows. She bit her lip and wrapped her arms tighter around her middle. She didn't know what she was doing here. But in a way it was the perfect place to go. No one knew about it, aside from her and Spike since they had only stumbled on it the night before. She wouldn't run into anyone she knew here, and it was secluded. She was not in the mood to be surrounded by people right then. She was in the mood to wallow, maybe do a little brooding in between. Moping was on the agenda for the night.

Taking a deep breath she pushed the heavy door open and stepped slowly inside, the stone walls and floors cast in a hazy blue from the moonlight. She took one step forward, then another, before a shuffling caught her ear and she spun around, squinting into the darkness.

"What you doing 'ere?" came a gruff voice. Willow let out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding in when Spike stepped out of the inky blackness and into the muted light. He looked a little haggard, a little worn out. His duster was wrapped tightly about his, so much so that it was difficult to distinguish his form in the dark. And his eyes were boring into her intently.

"What are you doing here?" she asked incredulously. "I would've thought you'd have left the minute the sun went down."

The bleached blonde shrugged, unwilling to admit that he had remained here since he had awakened, lost in thought and confusion. "Was getting there."

Spike's eyes narrowed and he pursed his lips. She was radiating tension, her anger was almost palpable. Her eyes were glassy and she was hugging herself for dear life. What the hell had happened? "Red, you hurt?"

The redhead looked confused for a minute before realizing what he was asking, seeing that he was visually checking her for any additional injuries. "No," she answered abruptly. "No, I'm-fine."

"Very convincing," he smirked as he watched her move to the standing tomb in the center of the mausoleum, hopping up onto to it uneasily. "Now tell me what happened," it was more of and order than a request and she knew it. This was yet another time he had come upon her when she wasn't in the best state of mind and she knew he was growing tired of her evasive answers. He wanted, needed to know what was going on.

"Spike, just go." she sighed, her fingers coming up to rub her aching temples. "You've got to be hungry or something."

He glowered at her dismissal and took a step forward. "This is getting old, pet," he nearly growled.

"Listen," she groused, "I'm a little.emotional, and it's complicated. You don't want anything to do with that," she assured him. "It's a long story."

"And I've got all the time in the world," he reminded her with a raised brow. Willow shifted uncomfortably under his watchful eye as he pinned her in her seat with his icy stare. "Start talking."

Willow heaved a heavy sigh and looked heavenward. This was going to be a long night.

next | back