Wings in the Night: Laying the Groundwork

Author: Lucinda

Pairing: none yet, Willow/Spike friendship

Disclaimer: I do not own anyone from BtVS or Disney's Gargoyles

Distribution: Bite Me, WLS, NHA, WWW, Twisting the Hellmouth - anyone else please ask first.

note: Things diverged in S4, slightly altered. This means Tara, who was NOT dating Willow, and was trying to use Willow & Co to hide from her family.  Willow & Spike have now moved to New York, where Willow accepted a position from Mr. David Xanatos as a teacher for a somewhat unusual group of students.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
 

~Part: 1~

Willow sighed, reading over the various handbooks and guides for the benefits offered by Xanatos Enterprises to all of their employees.  She was now an employee, with a generous salary.  Part of that generosity was supposed to ensure her silence.  She would be a teacher, and her students were a group of cloned gargoyles living underneath the city in a series of probably illegal tunnels.  Apparently, she could leave the hellmouth, but not the strangeness of her life.

As she started to make a list of the things that she would need, thankful that business formal wasn't required, it occurred to her that she couldn't possibly begin making lesson plans and supply lists without a better idea what the clones already knew or didn't know.  She would have to go meet them, learn a bit more about them before she could do her shopping. And they'd even given her a card for an expense account, saying that as long as the things that she purchased with it were for the education or benefit of the clones, there was no limit.

Lifting the phone of the hotel room, she glanced over to Spike, who was currently looking through a book on apartments to find a few possibilities for where they could stay.  Carefully, she dialed the contact number for Owen Burnett, not terribly surprised to get his voice mail. "Yes, this is Willow Rosenberg.  It's occurred to me that I will need to have a better idea of the current educational levels of my students and any particular special needs before I can get more than a basic level of shopping done.  I was hoping that you could arrange for someone to introduce me to them, and I could then get more of an idea?  Anyhow, you have the hotel number, so I would appreciate it if you could arrange something. Thank you very much, and umm... I guess that's it."

"Smooth, red."  Spike's drawl was only a little teasing, and his eyes sparkled with amusement.

Willow shrugged, grinning at him.  "I don't like talking to answering machines or voice mail.  It just feels weird."

"Not to unusual.  Think I can go with when you go meet those people? They already had me sign those pages of legal garbage."  He glared at the page, flipping to the next one with the sound of tearing paper.

"If he arranges it to be after dark, sure.  Which I'd think he would have to, since gargoyles, daytime... not too compatible.  But I wouldn't want you to get all scorched to go with me."  Willow frowned, wondering how Spike would manage everything in New York.  "Spike?  What about... I mean, how will you get your blood?"

Letting the apartment guide fall with a sigh, he looked at her. "That's a lot easier here than in Sunnyhell.  The problem is finding an apartment.  Somewhere safe for you, and not too sunny for me.  Available nowish.  Without being able to kill someone for it."

She winced, not quite willing to think about how literal that might be.  Spike was a vampire, he killed people. or he had until he'd gotten that chip.  The chip that was the only reason that she was still alive.  "Oh. Umm. maybe some of the more regular apartment buildings have a basement apartment?  Mom said something once about living in a basement just after she and dad got married.  There has to be something."

Spike suddenly froze.  "Something. I bought a place here, back in the seventies.  Dru was afraid the rats in the warehouses would eat her dolls.  I should still own the damn thing.  Might need a bit of work, but. Here, give me the phone."

He made a series of phone calls, speaking several different languages other than English.  She recognized French, Spanish, and this one demon language, but wasn't quite certain how things were going.  Peeking, she saw that Spike had a determined expression, one that told her that he was making some progress, but wasn't done yet.

Willow sighed and got back to making her list.  Writing supplies, art supplies, hmm. let's skip the music and gym class, oh, a computer!  Yes, definitely a computer, and some educational software.  She started making a list of the sort of software, and the capabilities that she would want from the computer.

Spike's laughter startled her from her thoughts.  "Bloody bastard. this is just too damn good."

"umm. I take it there was something useful?"  Willow asked softly, not quite certain of Spike's mood.

"The house that I bought has been converted into a demon apartment.  I own a bloody apartment building, and here I've been flipping through the bloody pages.  Got a nice big set of rooms on the third floor that we'll be moving into, and nobody will bother you."  Spike grinned, looking far too amused.  "Remind me to talk to Greg about where all the rent money's been going."

She just shook her head, leaning back in the chair.  Spike owned a demon apartment building.  Where she would be living. with Spike. It seemed almost unreal.  "So. this time, the landlord really is a ruthless cold blooded guy?"

"Bite your tongue, witch!  That's not the sort of thing I want people finding out about.  Ruin my reputation."  Spike tossed a pillow at her, eyes sparkling with laughter.

~Part: 2~

Spike had finished placing his order with room service, requesting three pints of blood for himself, and an order of Parmesian Chicken with a side salad for Willow.  He was waiting for the food to arrive, gleefully congratulating himself of having bought that building and the idea of ordering his food a bit earlier, hoping that the kitchen wouldn't be terribly busy, then they could get their food quickly.

The phone rang, and Willow picked it up, being closer than Spike, who was still congratulating himself on his foresight, which may have actually been nothing more than not bothering to think of the property after leaving the area.  "Hello?"

:Miss Rosenberg.  You mentioned a desire to meet your students in order to evaluate their current educational levels?  I believe we have made an acceptable arrangement.  If it would be acceptable to have a car stop by your hotel tonight at nine?:  The voice of Owen Burnett was calm, as if he talked about hiring tutors for gargoyles every day.  But then, Sunnydale didn't have the only strangeness in the world, maybe he did deal with bizarre things often.

"Yes, that should be good."  Willow smiled, hoping that things continued to go this smoothly.

:Excellent.  I suggest that you wear something. casual.  The area where they live is not particularly well suited to business wear.:  There was a faint impression of dismay from his voice.

"I can do that.  Umm. My room mate will want to go along, out of concern for my safety.  I can assure you that he won't have a problem with my students."  Willow remembered Spike, and wondered what Mr. Burnett would think about that.

:Just be certain that he doesn't cause any problems.  We will see you at nine.:  There was a small click, and the conversation was over.

Willow shook her head, wondering if Owen Burnett ever did things casually.  Read his paper in a bathrobe or something?  "Hey Spike?  Tonight, at nine we get a lift to go meet my future students.  He said something about dressing casual, which will be much easier.  Want to go with?"

"Silly girl, didn't I already say that I did?  He grinned at her, reaching over to ruffle her hair.  "But let's have dinner, shall we?"

It didn't even occur to Willow until she was making certain that the last napkin had indeed made it's way into the trash that most people would consider having dinner with someone drinking blood wasn't normal. That most people would be freaking out.  But this was normal for her, for her life.  And somehow, she didn't think that Spike would be a danger to her even if the chip did come out.  To other people, maybe. probably.  But not her.

They were waiting in the lobby area before nine.  Granted that Spike still looked somewhat dangerous even without his duster, they had both gone for casual jeans and  shirts.  The van that pulled up didn't look out of place, although the incredibly stiff figure of Owen Burnett, dressed in a pair of slacks and a long sleeved shirt did. Apparently, Owen couldn't manage 'casual'.  He looked at them, shaking his head slightly.  "Miss Rosenberg, and this, I presume, is Mr. Ashton?  Please get into the van."

In the van, there was an unhappy looking dark haired woman with a red jacket on.  Something about her just. she couldn't possibly be an employee of Xanatos Enterprises.  There was also another gargoyle, looking a bit uncomfortable in the van.  His hair and beard were the sort of gray that comes from old age, and he had a scar over one eye.

The gargoyle looked at her, his expression evaluating.  "I thought teachers were generally a bit older.  You can't be very old, lass."

Willow sighed, sitting down on one of the side seats, the arrangement allowing the gargoyle to crouch inside the middle of the van. "I haven't finished college, if that's what you're wondering.  I was picked more because I wouldn't freak out than for a vast education.  I'm Willow, and this is Spike.  What should I call you two?"

"I'm called Hudson, after the river.  This is Eliza, a friend of the Clan."  There was an audible capitol on the word Clan, and he smiled at Eliza with definite friendship.

"Why exactly are Xanatos and Owen so certain that you won't freak out?"  Eliza's voice held what had to be a distrust of Xanatos.  Maybe she didn't trust Willow either?

"I guess that Owen, umm, Mr. Burnett did a little research into Sunnydale, California.  That's where I came from.  And I've met gargoyles before. That part seemed to surprise him though."  Willow sighed, leaning a bit against Spike.

"Not too many around anymore, Red."  Spike's voice was calm, as if he was trying to help Willow keep calm as well.  His hand rubbed little circles over her ribs, which tickled slightly.

  "California has gargoyles?"  Eliza looked astounded, and Hudson just nodded.  Probably Goliath and Brooklyn had told him about her comment.

"A few of them.  I don't know how many. I only got to talk with one of them, years ago.  She. they saved me.  But one of the things that she said was that gargoyles protect."  Willow could feel herself remembering the pair of gargoyles, and as always, wondered what had happened.  "At the time, I thought that she was the most beautiful person that I'd ever seen.  And she had red hair, sort of like mine."

"Red hair?"  Eliza and Hudson exchanged worried looks.  "What color was her skin?"

Willow looked at them, wondering why they seemed so worried all of a sudden.  Was there something wrong with a red haired gargoyle?  Neither Goliath or Brooklyn had red hair.  "She was sort of bronze colored.  With a pair of horns.  And her mate. I think he was her mate, she was giving him sort of sweet looks. but he was all green, with a head like a lion.  Why? Are red haired gargoyles. is there something to worry about?"

"Nay lass, there's naught to worry yourself about.  There's just a few particular gargoyles that we've had. arguments with.  One of them is a red haired blue female, the other's a charcoal male with white hair. looks a bit like Goliath.  They can be a bit dangerous."  Hudson looked as if he was deep in thought.  "Demona and Thailog.  they can be tricky."

"Didn't think gargoyles could go bad.  Or is it just a very intense argument?"  Spike's question was soft, and he was frowning.

"Demona. let's just say that she thinks humans are to dangerous to the gargoyles.  As for Thailog. that's an entirely different matter.  He was created by Sevarius to cause trouble, and he succeeded far to well."  Hudson sighed, glancing at the window.  "One of the things that Thailog did was have the closes created.  and he didn't worry about teaching them more than 'obey Thailog'.  Now that he's gone.  well, someone has to teach them."

Willow sighed, closing her eyes as she pondered the web of tangled emotions and plots that she had just dropped herself into. "Wonderful. cloning scientists and would be world conquering gargoyles. Here I was thinking I'd just have to worry about finding an apartment and proper grammar."

Eliza laughed, her words full of amusement.  "That would be much simpler, wouldn't it?"

Leaning against Spike, Willow had the momentary question - would her life ever be normal?  Considering that she was a witch, leaning against a vampire, on her way to meet a group of cloned gargoyles. Probably not.  But it should be interesting.  Hopefully, that wouldn't translate to 'interesting, but short'.

~Part: 3~

The van came to a halt, and Owen began leading the way to an old subway entrance.  It looked nearly abandoned, with words and symbols painted over the walls as high as could be reached, and bottles and papers littering the floor, along with water stains, dirt, and some puddles of brownish liquid that Willow didn't want to identify or step in.  Owen looked less than delighted to be here, and Willow began to wonder exactly where these students of hers were going to be.

They followed the subway track for a ways, climbing up at a narrow ladder to a somewhat rusted door, bearing faded paint that proclaimed 'Auth ized Person l On'.  Hudson opened the door, which didn't make a single noise, despite it's rusted appearance.  This new hallway was still a bit worse for wear, the concrete showing some cracks and water stains, but it was clean.   They walked a bit farther, making two turns before it opened into a hall that was as large as the meeting room where she'd had her interview.  A few people were waiting, and in the front. oh my.

Willow found herself swallowing nervously, and stopped, her hand seeking Spike.

Looking right at the group was what Willow could only describe as a six foot humanoid panther with bat like wings.  Eliza walked over to the cat man, smiling cheerfully.  Giving him a hug, she spoke, her words completely astonishing Willow.  "Good to see you, big brother."

Willow glanced over at Owen.  "I'm assuming that he's one of the mutates that you mentioned?  He's. big."

"Talon's a good man, lass, he's not a danger to anyone who's not out for trouble."  Hudson's voice offered a reassurance.  "He's just been busy trying to keep everything running smoothly down here."

Willow nodded, seeing the logic to that.  There was no sense in being cowardly, and she might as well try to make at least a halfway decent impression.  She walked over towards him, a small smile on her face. Offering her hand to shake, she looked at him, and smiled cheerfully. "Hello.  I'm Willow Rosenberg, and I'm supposed to be the new teacher for some special students."

For a moment, it almost looked like Talon didn't know how to react.  But he recovered from his surprise, shaking her hand carefully, so that the claws didn't scratch her.  "You aren't quite what I'd been expecting.  Come this way, they've been wanting to meet their new teacher."

Spike followed, a bit less trusting of the mutate than Willow seemed to be.  In his mind, there were hundreds of examples of people that had seemed charming right up to the point where they killed you. he'd even been that person a few times.  There were so many people here. had to be a couple hundred.  The tunnel networks hadn't been nearly so populated a few decades back.  He would have heard about it in the demon clubs.  Although with someone like that Talon, and a few gargoyles, the people down here wouldn't be easy pickings anymore.  "So. what do you call this place?"

"This is the Labyrinth.  Maggie said it reminded her of a movie that she watched, when she was younger.  It sounded better than the tunnels, so."  Talon shrugged, his eyes suspicious as he looked at Spike.

"Fair enough."  Spike shrugged, apparently unconcerned with why the place had it's name.

It wasn't long before they entered a smaller room, where a group of gargoyles were gathered.  Willow blinked, looking at them in surprise.  One of them looked almost the same as Brooklyn, save for the fact that where Brooklyn was red with white hair, this one was a light blueish green with dark blue hair.  Another looked almost like a younger Hudson, his skin a bit more tan than bronze, his hair dark instead of age grizzled.  But the most surprising of them was the female gargoyle with Eliza's face, her caramel skin a similar color, but her white hair shockingly pale.  There was another tannish gargoyle, with a bald head and weblike ears, and a small purple one with webbed wings.

"Oh."  Willow blinked, looking at the gathered gargoyles.  "Hello, I'm Willow, and I'm going to be your new teacher."

~Part: 4~

Talon shook his head, a sort of purring chuckle emerging.  "Might as well finish the introductions.  From the right, we have Burbank and Hollywood, the little purple guy's  Brentwood, that's Malibu, and finally, we have Delilah.  So, who's your friend?"

Willow had watched, matching faces to names.  Burbank looked like Hudson, and it occurred to her. "Why are you all named after places? Except for Delilah, that is. and this is Spike."

The small purple one, named Brentwood looked at her, a hesitant smile on his face.  "Thailog named us.  I think. it had to do with their names."  He'd gestured at Hudson, glancing down as if he was afraid of the older gargoyle's reaction.

Hudson sighed.  "Ahh. when we first came to Manhattan, only Goliath had a name. The rest of us ended up picking names from parts of the city. and the river."

Willow nodded, a corner of her mind wondering why they hadn't had name before deciding that question could wait for later.  She settled herself on a cushion, smiling cheerfully at the gargoyles.  "Okay.  Now, since I'm supposed to help you learn, why don't we start with you telling me what you know, and if there's anything in particular that you'd like to learn?  Then, I can start planning how o start your lessons."

Hudson smiled, and let himself out of the room, Talon leaving with him.  Willow barely noticed their absence, being quickly caught up talking with her new students.  They had heard about books that the other people in the Labyrinth had enjoyed, and wanted to be able to read them.  To understand why money and taxes made so many people sad, and understand why they became stone in the daytime.  Willow had asked for specific books that they would want to get to, and had smiled, telling them that they would have to work up to the books, and that it would take a while before they were ready for the complicated parts of science.

"You have pretty hair.  Red, like Demona's, but. softer." Brentwood's voice was a bit hesitant, and one of his fingers had reached out, touching a lock of Willow's hair.

She smiled, feeling glad that they weren't rejecting her, weren't just lurking with quiet dismay.  "Thank you.  A lot of people just think it's sort of odd."

There was a sudden thump against the wall, and Willow jumped, startled.  "What. okay, I'm going to check that out."

She stood up, opening the door with a shaking hand to see Talon holding Spike against the wall, hand around his throat.  "Eep!  What's going on here?"

Hudson, who had simply been glaring at Spike, shook his head. "Talon is reacting a bit. forcefully.  Lass, did you know that your. that Spike isn't quite human?  There's something a bit off about his scent."

"He smells like blood and death."  Talon's words were growled out.  "And it isn't his blood."

Willow blinked, her mind stuck on the fact that no matte where she went, people were always smelling things.  "Well, I did know that, just not that you could smell it.  You can put him down, Talon.  Spike is a vampire, I suppose it only makes sense that he'd smell a bit different."

Spike's hand got a grip, and he pushed Talon's hands with a small popping noise, dropping to the floor with a small growl, blood oozing from his neck.  Talon pulled his hand back, ears flattening, tail lashing.

Willow looked at Spike's neck, relieved that the wounds weren't deep.  "It's a really long and complicated story, but in case you didn't know, vampires are real, Spike is one.  He's not going to hurt anyone in here."

"He dislocated my thumb!"  Talon looked furious, glaring at Spike, who was standing behind Willow.

"Only because you were half choking him, having already slammed him into a wall!"  Willow glared back, feeling the urge to use her resolve face.  "Look, it's good that you want the people here safe, but Spike won't hurt them.  And let me take a look at your thumb."  Examining his hand carefully, Willow noticed that other than the fur and the claws, it was pretty much the same as a regular hand.  Right before she used a tiny magic to speed healing and a slight pressure, Willow looked up again.  "This will hurt a bit."

Talon just looked at her, his expression filled with puzzlement, before glaring once more at Spike.  "He'd better not be trouble."

Willow just sighed as Talon stalked away.  "Well, that was. more excitement than I think we needed for tonight."

"I thought. Ma. Thailog said there were no such thing as vampires."  Delilah's soft voice distracted Willow from her worries.

Turning, Willow smiled at the caramel colored gargoyle.  "My mother would have said the same about gargoyles. that or made a comment about water drains.  But gargoyles are real, and so are vampires.  So are. well, a lot of things, actually."

Spike shook his head, resting one hand on Willow's shoulder. "I'm here partly to keep Willow safe.  Of course, I always did have a soft spot for gargoyles.   But I'm not going to be making trouble down here. Wait, Red, are you going to teach them about real sports?  Manchester United?"

Willow looked over, her voice teasing.  "Spike, do I look like an expert on Manchester United?  Or any other team for your British football? Which Americans call soccer.  No, I'm not an expert.  Maybe you can explain it to them."

"Sounds like a good plan to me."  Spike grinned.

From inside the room, there was the deep voice of Hollywood.  "What's Manchester United?"

Catching sight of the way Spike's eyes lit up, Willow sighed. This was going to be interesting.

~Part: 5~

It took a lot of effort, but Willow managed to keep Spike's enthusiasm for his beloved Manchester United from entirely overwhelming everybody.  The clones thought that he was fascinating, and hoped that he would come back and see them again.  Spike was delighted by the opportunity, and promised that he would definitely be coming back.  They still had to learn all about the teams, and the rules, and why American football was a bloody joke, as Spike put it.

Owen looked entirely relieved to get out of the underground tunnels, and he was brushing the sleeves of his shirt, as if trying to keep them impeccable.  As if anyone could look spotless and unrumpled after spending a few hours in underground tunnels. well, actually, Owen came close.

Leaning closer, Spike whispered "I'll be able to get us back in there.  He won't have to wrinkle his nancy-boy clothes."

"Spike!  Be. well, not so rude when he's here!  I think he's sort of important at Xanatos.  He doesn't wear the sort of suits hat say minion, not even corporate minion.  And he doesn't carry himself like a minion.  The way he acts, he's either very important, or very certain that he will be important.  So if he can maybe get me fired, try not to annoy him?"  Willow hissed her words at Spike, trying to keep them soft enough that the other people wouldn't hear her.

"Why do you care what he thinks, red?"  Spike's lazy grin was pure mischief.

"Human, remember?  Full medical coverage, and full expenses for teaching my new students.  And a regular paycheck that's nothing to sneeze about either.  If something happens and I get sick, or hurt, or. or if I decide that they need a library of three thousand books and a decent internet connection, Xanatos will cover it.  It's more that. I can't do my job well if the guys with more seniority are looking for the least little fault."  Willow frowned as she tried to explain it.

"So, does that mean you have to play politics?  You haven't got the face for it, Willow.  Every emotion. well, every time you feel things, it shows on your face."  Spike shook his head.  "But you can rest easy, you got a place to stay as long as you want to be in New York, or as long as I have that bloody building.  And if it comes down to it, I can scare up a doctor for you."

"I'd rather avoid the politics as much as I can.  But. why make things harder than they have to be?  So. are we moving tonight?"  Willow sighed, trying not to think of all the possible disasters that could befall her with her new job.

"Yeah, tonight.  Maybe you can do some of that online shopping and have some stuff delivered, more clothing and the like."  Spike grinned at her.  "Of course, there will probably be people who think we're shagging."

At first, Willow just blushed, her mind stuck on the idea of herself and Spike. oh my.  "I don't think I'm quite the type for you to fall hopelessly for.  And while you may be my friend, I'm not quite that friendly to all my friends, if you follow.  But I'll be sure not to argue with that opinion.  Might give me an added sliver of protection."

"So, what is my type then?"  Spike teased, his eyes twinkling. They were making their way back through the subway tunnel, towards the van.

"Beautiful, confident, arrogant, and bad for you."  Willow didn't even hesitate.  "And since you generally end up hating them almost as much as you love them, I think I'd rather pass, you know?"

  Spike just laughed, one arm around her shoulder.  He noticed the older gargoyle watching him, as if not quite certain that he wanted to trust him.  The other woman, Eliza, looked puzzled.  Maybe they hadn't told her about the little vampire tidbit.

Right about then, her jacket rang.  Eliza glared at it, opening a cell phone and simply stating "Maza."

"You have to be kidding me, Matt.  We're detectives, not homicide - how did you get dragged into this?  And what's so incredibly bizarre that it's going to you with your conspiracy theories?"  She looked unhappy.

"Think work just called her in?"  Spike looked at Willow, a small worry line on his face.

Willow looked at the unhappy detective, who was listening to the phone, her face growing more and more remote, her eyes darker and clouded. "Yeah. and I don't think she's happy about it.  She said homicide. so that means somebody's been killed.  Maybe more than one person.  If it's something particularly bizarre. is it psychotic guy weird or Sunnydale weird?"

"Owen, I need you to drop me off at the police station. Something's come up and I just got called in."  She looked. rather like she was trying desperately not to be freaked out.

"Of course, Detective.  If there happen to be any. unusual circumstances, we may be able to offer some general background information. There are. circles that Detectives rarely move through."  There was something in Owen's voice, not quite an emotion, but. enough of something that it was obvious that he knew far more about odd things than his suit would suggest.

"Right. Hudson, if you could ask the others to be on an extra lookout?  Something strange is going on."  She had this look, as if she was half afraid of what she would find.

"Bet the Sunnydale version of odd has bit her on the ass already."  Spike's murmur was too low for Eliza to notice. But Hudson definitely caught it, looking over at Spike and Willow with concern.

Eliza was still frowning as she made her way to the police station.  She might or might not have been comforted to learn that her worry was shared by everyone else in the van as well, for an assortment of reasons.

~Part: 6~

Eliza Maza wasn't quite certain what to expect when she went in to check on her partner.  He'd sounded incredibly rattled, which wasn't at all like Matt Bluestone.  Rattled and afraid.  What made it more puzzling is that tonight, he was supposed to be in on a fairly ordinary drug raid, something that should have been pretty safe.

Not. Her partner was sitting at his desk, pale, shaking, a untouched cup of coffee in his hands.

"Matt?  What happened?"  She had dozens of vague images flicker through her mind.  Everything from dead bodies in water, to officers shot, to Demona attacking the police.

"They were already dead, Maza.  Something just. tore them apart. But. the blood was.  It was everywhere, and the emergency squad still said there wasn't enough for all of the bodies.  It was just. horrible."  His words were a whisper, as if he was afraid that someone would hear him, or that speaking the words would make things more real.

Eliza blinked, suddenly feeling rather cold herself.  "But. how? What could. The strength that it would require."

Matt looked at her, his eyes haunted.  "I don't know."

"Maza, can you get your partner home safe?  I don't think he should be driving.  He got shook pretty bad by that mess. only bright side is that we know the Monroe boys won't be causing any more problems."  The voice of Captain Chavez was almost worried, and from the slight shake in her voice, whatever had happened had to have been very bad.

As Eliza started leading Matt to the parking lot to get his car, she glanced back at the captain, seeing her duck into her office, muttering over a rosary.  She couldn't remember the last time that she'd seen Maria Chavez that upset, not even when the Clock tower had been blown up during the evening shift.  She'd been frightened and furious then, but this was something else entirely.  Maybe she'd best see if any of the Clan had any idea where Demona had been, the Captain was muttering something about bloodthirsty demons.

  It wasn't until she'd dropped Matt off at his apartment, and taken a taxi back to her own that she called the castle.  It annoyed her that she had to contact Xanatos or any of his people to talk to the Clan, but. after everything, they'd moved back to Castle Wyvern.  It just felt like home to them.  Fortunately, Lexington was in, and he sounded fairly cheerful.  He didn't know anything about Demona's whereabouts, but they'd be alert for trouble.  But he was able to tell her that all of the Steel Clan robots had been safely locked up, for the whole night, ruling out that possibility.

What could have done something so brutal?  And what exactly had happened to the missing blood?  The whole thing gave her shivers, and she wasn't quite certain that she wanted to know the answers.  Unfortunately, it wouldn't take long before the Quarrymen were blaming this on gargoyles, so they had to find out who or what had done it, and fast.  Preferably before it struck again.

  For the first time since she'd discovered gargoyles were real, Eliza Maza felt worried about what might be lurking in the darkness. About that other than humans lived on this world, the possibility of other beings terrifying her.  Because if whatever had done that to those drug runners wasn't human, she would have no idea how to watch for it, or how to stop it from doing something similar.  What if IT moved against a busload of travelers, or a club full of people?  Had IT attacked those men for a purpose, and if so, what had that purpose been?  Would there even be motivations that she could recognize?

~Part: 7~

Willow gave a little wave to Owen. Mister Burnett as he dropped them off at the hotel.  It had been quite a night, and she was torn between the desire to start planning where to start teaching and getting moved to this apartment that Spike owned.  She settled for packing her things back up, not that she'd had a lot that needed it, and making notes on her tablet about the requests that they'd made.  Books they'd wanted to read, their questions that they wanted to understand.

Spike helped carry everything to the car.  Even with Willow floating things out with her magic, it took some time.  The drive wasn't too long, and while the neighborhood wasn't terribly prosperous, and it looked a little worse for wear, there wasn't the sense of menace and dread that would have made Willow freak out.  There was a large building, the sort that must have originally been intended as some sort of apartment complex well over a century ago, with ornamenting at the corners and along the rooftops.  Narrow balconies held planters full of growing things, some holding ferny leafy things, other boxes spawned vines of ivy or bright flowers, some held thorny looking things, while some were more mundane roses, and geraniums and mums.

"Wow. nice place.  At least, from the outside it looks pretty good."  Willow looked at it, feeling rather impressed.

Spike just chuckled, leading her towards the lobby area.  Pushing open the doors, they stepped into an area with a tile mosaic floor, and an assortment of couches and chairs holding an assortment of beings.  Most didn't look quite human, like the purplish woman with white eyes, or the big thing that looked almost like a humanoid Sharpe dog without the fur.  The assorted beings turned, looking at the new arrivals with curiosity.  One of them, a seven foot orange scaled guy built like a line backer made a sort of rumbling noise, and in a voice like falling stones muttered "This isn't a human run place."

A vampire in a pair of jeans and a Hard Rock café shirt came over, his ridges in place and a businesslike air about him, making 'sit down' gestures towards the handful of residents.  "Calm down, people, what seems to be the problem?  Oh.  Master Spike.  And who. is this?"

Willow looked at the new vampire, fairly certain that this had to be 'Greg' that Spike had talked to earlier.  He seemed to be well acquainted with personal hygene, but not obsessed with it.  Calm, in control of his impulses and hunger.   He didn't feel as old as Spike, but he felt older than the average minion that they ran into on patrols.

Spike smiled, one hand resting on Willow's shoulder.  "This is Willow.  She's a witch, so none of that anti human garbage around her, or she'll turn you into a rat.  And if any of you have a problem with her, I can rip your arms of and beat you with them."

"I thought witches were supposed to turn people into frogs?" That almost sleepy sounding question came from the wrinkly guy, his voice a soothing tenor that sounded entirely harmless.

Willow looked at him, offering a hesitant smile.  "That all depends on the culture and the story.  Personally, frogs aren't my thing."

Nobody offered any hassles as they brought the luggage in, although the floating did cause a few eyebrows, or their equivalents, to lift.  The big orange guy with the rumbling voice spoke, "Isn't that a bit much for you, little red?"

Willow looked over at him, a smile on her face.  "Nope, not really.  And if I'm little red, does that make you big orange?"

He just laughed, relaxing back against the couch.  "You aren't bad, for a human.  Actually, I'm Krannos.  Looks like you'll fit in here after all."

Spike just chuckled, loading the luggage into the lift.  "See, I told you that things would be alright.  Probably be charming life stories out of them and giggling over cookies in less than a week."

"Spike!  I don't even know if all the people here speak English! What if. what if someone only speaks Fyarl or Chambeshi or something?  I don't speak either of those languages, so how would I get them to tell me all about themselves over chocolate chip cookies?"  Willow tried not to giggle, certain that she was failing.

"You're the smart one, I have no doubts that in a couple months, you'll be chatting with anybody in here, with no communications problems at all. Maybe you'll learn Chambeshi, or find a handy magical equivalent of a Babble fish."  Spike opened the door, carrying trunks into the sitting room of the nice apartment.  "Greg said it has two bedrooms, one with a window, one without.  Guess which one you get?"

Willow looked around, eying the subdued wallpaper, the slightly old fashioned yet comforting furnishings.  There was a very modern looking television, and. yes, there was the perfect place to put her computer.  "You don't think you'll be working on your tan in the morning sunlight?  I don't even know how much light would get in, although there must be enough for the balcony plants."  She looked at him, letting the teasing fade.  "Thank you, Spike.  For everything, and. well, thanks."

"You're welcome, red.  It's a new start for us both.  That doesn't mean we have to do it alone.  Besides, Greg and I can't be the only vampires in this city, what if you ran into a dangerous one?  Or a pack of them?  You could end up ripped apart."  Spike had that little frown, one that said he was thinking of all the ugly what if's that could have happened.  "Gargoyles. That should make things a bit better."

"Yeah, gargoyles."  Willow could feel herself smiling.  There was so much potential in the future right now.  Spike didn't have to keep her around as an alternative to being alone, but maybe. maybe their friendship would be strong enough that she wouldn't drive him crazy?  "That should help.except for that Quarryman stuff.  It has to be stronger here, and. They just sort of remind me of the whole MOO thing."

Spike looked at her, one hand holding a cigarette.  "Red?  What MOO thing?  Is this something that I somehow missed?"

Willow ended up explaining that whole mess, with the 'murdered children' that had turned out to be Hansel and Gretel, except that they were really an evil demon that traveled around making stories of 'sacrificed children' to start witch-hunts.  About how it had influenced all the parents in Sunnydale, and they'd ended up creating Mothers Opposed to the Occult, or MOO for short, led by Joyce Summers and Sheila Rosenberg.  The terrible feeling of being tied to a stake, watching as her mother lit the fire, and her mother and Joyce talked about 'how hard this was' for each other.

Spike looked shocked and horrified by the whole mess.  "Joyce? She tried to burn. well, you and the mouse?  Do you suppose that you can fix her?  Now I know why you had to drag the bit of fur across the whole country though."

"It was the demon.  Giles thought that it had a stronger influence over her because she was the first parent to see the sort of bodies.  She managed to apologize to me and Buffy. my mom just sort of repressed the whole thing."  Willow felt a bit sad.

"Hopefully, we won't run into anything like that here."  Spike offered the words, part of him thinking that this was New York, they could probably find something weirder.

~Part: 8~

In the. well, it was more like afternoon than morning, Willow set up her computer, and went online to order a few things.  Mostly school supplies, but also some clothing and a couple bits of furniture for the apartment.  She unpacked some more of her stuff, although the books had to stay in their trunk until the shelves that she'd ordered arrived.

But Willow was curious about the apartment building, and after making certain that she felt sufficiently dressed for company, she let herself out of the apartment, sort of meandering through the halls a bit. She could smell things cooking from some of the rooms, and while she could recognize baking bread and the scent of roasting chicken, others she could only identify the presence of peppers, or something lemony, which could have been someone cleaning floors, or even a lemon fresh scented non human.

"Red, why don't you come sit with us."  The gravely voice was immediately recognizable as Krannos.

Smiling, Willow made her way over to the cluster of people and settled on a cushion.  On the table in the middle of the seats was a plate of what looked like red and green speckled cookies and smelled like peppers, and a pan of brownies.  "Afternoon, Krannos.  I don't think anyone else was here last night when we got here. umm... I'm Willow."

Krannos chuckled, a sound that reminded Willow of a pile of pebbles and rocks cascading down a cliff.  "No, they weren't.  But they've heard about you, and how you arrived with Spike, the killer of two Slayers. People have been curious about you."

"Anything in particular that they really want to know?"  Willow smiled, glancing at everybody.  "Because otherwise, I really wouldn't know where to start."

"How you met him, how they can be sure that you're a witch, where you come from."  The speaker was a rather rotund blue female, her body covered in a fine pelt of fur, with two pairs of dark eyes.  She wore a peasant style blouse of unbleached fabric, and a brown printed long skirt, rather like something that Tara would have worn.

"We first met a few years back, and it had to do with. well, he knew one of my acquaintances from way back, and he was trying to find one of my friends.  Then. well, that's a really long story, actually.  And parts of it might not be good for explaining over cookies."  Willow paused, trying to think of how to explain that whole mess in a way that wouldn't embarrass Spike.  Hmm. best leave that story for much later.

"Brownie?  Primrose tea?"  The speaker appeared to be a female of Krannos' people, and she was shorter, barely over six feet, and with a deep crimson frill running over her head from just between her eyebrows over her skull, tapering near the base of her neck.  She wasn't wearing a lot, and all of it was close fitting leather.

"Thanks."  Willow accepted both the brownie and the glass of iced tea.  She sipped at the tea, noticing that it tasted a little like rose petals, sort of odd and memorable.  "I grew up in Sunnydale, home of the Hellmouth.  It wasn't fun."

<How does that assure us of her safety?  Is there not a Slayer over the Hellmouth?>  The speaker was a very, very lean creature perhaps Willow's height, it's smooth skin a bluish gray,  and a tiny mouth with needle like teeth.  It held a china teacup, sipping delicately from it.  It had used Tessori, a demon language, and addressed Krannos, most likely assuming that Willow wouldn't understand the words.  It's voice was either a tenor or low alto, and didn't give any clues towards a gender.  Maybe it's species were hermaphrodites?

Willow looked right at it, and smiled slightly.  "Who in this room is entirely harmless?  You could assume that Spike would not have brought me here if he thought hat I would be a danger to those already living here, or that if I'm going to sit down for tea and brownies, that I might think it bad manners to attack you.  And yes, there is a Slayer over the Hellmouth.  She's quite busy enough there that she's not going to worry about New York."

Seeing the astonished looks on everyone, or at least, what she assumed were astonished and surprised expressions, Willow blushed.  "I understand Tessori, but I've been told that my accent is horrible."

"Do you speak many non human languages, Willow of Sunnydale?"  The blue furred woman who had first asked where Willow came from sounded curious, and hopeful.

"I can speak maybe six badly, recognize another dozen.  I'm better with reading them than the speaking. Some of them aren't really intended for somebody with a human mouth and voice box.  Of course, I wouldn't mind a bit of help in anyone finds themselves wincing too often at a mangled word."  Willow nibbled at the brownie, thick and rich with chocolate and nuts.

"What brought you to New York?"  The female of Krannos' type, was she his relative?  His mate?  She spoke, her words thoughtful.

"I left Sunnydale because someone that I thought wanted to be my friend was only trying to use me to hide from her enemies.  I came here. I have a job as a special instructor for some students who can't use the public education system."  Willow sighed, staying within the terms of the nondisclosure statement.

Someone else, a tall yellow green patterned being with a row of knifelike plates down his back settled on a cushion, flipping from a baseball game to a talk show about lesbian lovers dumping their girlfriends because they were pregnant with their boss's baby to something with a Quarryman speaking about the gargoyle menace.  The assorted people in the lobby turned, glancing at the screen, most of them turning back away with mutters of intolerant humans and something about not knowing a menace until it bit them on the ass.

Willow looked at the person, wondering how someone could be quite so consumed by hatred.  "He's so eager to hate that he's not even making sense.  Those horrible things.  there's no proof, nothing beyond Gargoyles look different, they aren't like humans, so they must be bad.  He doesn't want to look past wings and different colored skin to see that they're people too."

"Humans are good at hating."  Krannos spoke as close to softly as he could.

Willow sighed, sipping at her glass of primrose tea.  "I know.  Not something that I'm particularly proud of. yay, my people can kill thousands at a time. yay, my people hate just about everything that's different, including each other.  Makes me ashamed to be human sometimes."

"Don't worry, little red.  It's not your fault."  This came from the bluish gray being of questionable gender.  Willow had the feeling that the comment was supposed to be a reassurance.  "After all, you can't choose what species you're born or hatched into."

With a small smile, Willow settled back into the chair.  Maybe it wouldn't be too bad staying here, although she had the feeling that it might not give her a lot of help with dealing with other humans.  It was starting to look like the closest to human company in this place would be Spike and Greg.  At least none of it would feel just like Sunnydale.

~Part: 9~

The door opened, and a figure came into the lobby.  For a moment, Willow couldn't quite place what was so odd about the guy, but then it dawned on her.  He looked human.  Sort of brownish blond hair, a light tan, unremarkable clothing. average height and build.  The guy looked so human and nondescript that it almost freaked her out.  How could someone be that unremarkable?

He was muttering things under his breath as he moved towards a particularly soft looking chair, something about ". furious and I can't really blame them.  Bloody, nasty mess, with bodies strewn and the energy signature. damn mess, is what it was.  Only thing that might have made it worse would be if they'd got the cops. or civilians. still a mess."

"So, green eyes, what's got you in a snit?"  This came from the wrinkle skinned demon that resembled a Sharpe, who'd identified himself as Ed, and mentioned a cousin named Clem that lived near Sunnydale.

"There was supposed to be a drug bust last night.  Problem is that something got there before the cops, and ripped the drug smugglers to bloody bits.  Hell of a mess, and the energy traces left at the scene.  It's enough to turn my stomach from three blocks away."  He made a face, accepting a glass of primrose tea and taking a sip before he paused.  "Wait. who's this?  A new person?"

Willow smiled a bit, feeling almost unsettled.  Something about this guy. it wasn't. The feel of him didn't match his appearance.  It wasn't a feeling of danger, just. sort of power, but wild, like the power in nature or chaos, not the power in a witch or sorcerer.  She would almost bet that he wasn't really human.  "I'm Willow.  I just got here with Spike last night."

"Right, Willow.  Aren't you a bit out of place here?"  He looked at her with his eyes, which were far too green. humans didn't really have eyes the color of backlit emeralds.

"Maybe.  But it seems pretty nice.  And it's not easy to get an apartment in New York.  It's not like I'm precisely normal myself, but. what happened that has you upset?  What sort of energy traces?"  She wasn't certain how much she wanted to reveal about herself to this guy.

"It's hard to explain.  I'm not sure that you'd get it."  He paused, closing his eyes as if searching for words.

Willow felt something touch her defenses, a light touch that 'felt' like leaves and sand and dizziness brushing over her, as if trying to learn what she was inside.  She strengthened them a little, looking at the green eyed man who wasn't human.  "Stop that, it's rude.  And what are you?  You definitely don't feel human."

"Well. that wasn't what I'd expected.  Maybe you would get it after all."  He offered a smile, far to warm and perfect to be truly reassuring.  "You may call me Robin Lockwood.  It's not my real name, of course, but it's the one that I'm using.  As for what I am."  There was a faint shimmer, and he was suddenly greenish, his now unruly hair the color of leaves, his skin the greenish brown of a newly sprouted tree, his ears large and pointed.  Only his eyes and clothing remained the same.  "I'm one of the Fae, of course."

Willow blinked, feeling as if the bottom of the couch had dropped out from under her, only she hadn't moved.  Robin was one of the Fae. the Fae were real.  She thought that she heard someone snickering in the background. "Oh. Of  course.  So. what about that energy signature thing?"

"Well, there was naturally the whole massive remnants of pain and violence and death.  But there was something else, something that felt almost like a ritual."  Robin shivered, apparently unhappy to even think about it.

Willow sighed, somehow not surprised even as she was surprised.   "Like. some sort of ritual sacrifice for a big spell?  Or more like, hey, we aren't strong enough to do this, let's kill  some people and draw power from that?' Because umm.. neither one is very good."

"I'm not sure, but you are right in that neither one is particularly good. Perhaps you'd care to go check it out yourself?"  Robin's expression was somewhere between mocking and challenging.

Standing up, Willow frowned at him.  "This is a very bad thing, and I really doubt that the police here are prepared to deal with magical crimes.  What if whoever did this is trying to call something big and terrible that will eat everything in it's path?  What if they're trying to bring about the apocalypse?  What if they grab someone that you care about next, or even you?  This isn't something that you can ignore!"

Glaring at the self proclaimed Fae, Willow walked out of the room, having the sinking feeling that this very bad thing would turn out to be important.  Probably in the Hellmouthy evil sort of way.  And if it was a possible threat to her students, shouldn't she check it out?  Okay, this probably wasn't one of the smarter things for her to do, but.

She had no trouble finding the place.  All it took was checking a newspaper, with the bold headline 'Smugglers Slaughtered Over Drugs' with a description of dismembered bodies scattered through a warehouse over boxes of now confiscated drugs.  It sounded awful.  It was slightly harder to find the place, but once she got close enough, there was a sort of crowd of people, gawking at the building, which they weren't allowed to enter.  She could feel it. the negative energies of pain, and death, and blood magic. And there was something else, that she couldn't quite place.

"What did they do?"  The ragged whisper came from somewhere to the right.

Looking over, Willow saw a tall woman with red hair, dressed in a suit.  After a moment, she realized that it was Ms. Destine, whom she'd seen once, buying suits.  She was staring at the place with an almost blank expression of horror.  Maybe she was having trouble believing that something so brutal could happen?  Or maybe.  A speculation bloomed inside.

Gritting her teeth, Willow shifted her perception so that she could look at Ms Destine's aura.  It wasn't nearly as intrusive as the probe that Robin had tried, and if Ms Destine looked, all she would see or notice would be some strange redhead staring at her.  As she'd expected, the energies that filled the place were awful, and did try to turn her stomach. She could hear the echoes of screaming, and growls, and the sort of wet popping noises that had to be limbs ripped from their sockets.  But that was to be expected, as was the curious/vindictive/appalled/fascinated feelings of the crowd.

Ms Destine's aura wasn't normal at all.  First, there was the age of it. a feeling of age that the only comparison that she could make was Anya, who was eleven hundred and something.  And it had the vibrancy of a magic user, an intensity to the colors that set apart those with the potential or skill at magic from those without.  Her colors were like a scattering of rubies, garnets, and amythryst, and the feeling of them seemed. odd.  There were also powerful spells laced through her, powerful spells cast by something inhuman.  One had the deep rooted feeling that said it had been there for a long, long time, and also seemed to have cords binding Ms Destine to something or someone elsewhere.  The other. it was probably no more than a couple years old, and amazingly powerful.  It did something, but she couldn't tell what.  Glimmering underneath were the shimmering shells of protection that told her that Ms Destine was also a practicing user of magics.  The only reassurance was that there was none of the tainting of someone that practiced blood magic, sacrificing others for power.

Not that that could be taken as an assurance of safety, or that Ms Destine was a good person, only that her magical practices were. not cast in the blood of others.  She was powerful, very old, and. maybe not human, although it didn't feel like the same sort of not human as Robin.

That was when Willow realized that New York shouldn't have the same almost sulfur and sour fear taste of a Hellmouth.  It wasn't powerful, not like there was actually a Hellmouth here, but there was a hint of it. Could this. could someone be trying to open a Hellmouth in New York?

The words slipped out, half prayer, half plea.  "Nobody would be that stupid. would they?"

Willow felt eyes on her, and looked over, meeting Ms Destine's eyes with her own.  There was a moment of recognition, each silently acknowledging both the claim to magic that the other held, the horror at this mess, and the fact that neither of them had had anything to do with it.

Willow made her way back to the apartment building, a few wrong turns slowing her trip.  Spike was awake when she walked into the lobby, pacing across the tiles muttering something in German.  He looked up, and practically growled "Where did you go?"

"There was. I went to see what sort of energy mess he mentioned."  Willow gestured vaguely towards Robin.

"And?"  Spike looked impatient, as if he didn't see how this had anything to do with her getting into potential danger.

"I think someone's trying to open a Hellmouth in New York." Willow whispered, her words carrying and leaving horrified silence in the lobby.

"Bloody hell."   Spike's words summed things up entirely.

~Part: 10~

                Willow offered a weak smile towards Spike.  "Yeah.  The good, well, there really isn't good news about this.  The not so bad news is that it isn't open, not even close.  There's just a hint of the feel of one, so it could be stopped.  Assuming we can find whoever killed those drug dealers as part of their series of rituals and stop them from doing any more."

            "Any clues what did it?"  Spike was looking at her, the slightly narrowed eyes and pursed lips that spoke of plans forming and twisting in his skull.

            "There were. echoes from the killing.  I don't know what it or they were, but there was growling, and screaming, and the sound of limbs being ripped out of their   sockets.  Humans can't do that, so. it had to have been something else.  But that really doesn't narrow things down very much.  And they used magic, which. well, it might rule out a few species, but not nearly enough to give us who did it."  Willow moved closer to Spike, feeling cold and shaken from the prospect of another Hellmouth.  Being a cross the country for that was one of the plusses to moving here.

            "Hellmouth's are bad."  The spiked greenish guy from last night spoke, one hand holding a throwing blade that had a curious resemblance to. no, it was one of his spikes.  Hadn't there been one of that species at that 'Slayerfest' disaster that had forced Buffy and Cordelia to work together? "We don't need one of  those here on top of everything else."

          "Glad we're all on the same page here."  Spike's voice was dry, not quite sarcastic.  "Got a plan to help prevent it?"

            Tilting his head, the maybe assassin shrugged, tossing the blade in his hand, almost like a calming motion.  "Plan's too generous.  It's just. some of us can listen in places that Red there can't, since she's human.  We can listen to the local rumors, try to learn who might want a Hellmouth, where they are.  Maybe pay them a little visit."

          "There are rituals that can cleanse an area from the taint.  From the start of the Hellmouth.  But the catch is that all the ones I know of take a minimum of three powerful mages.  More powerful than me.  I know of one that might be willing to help, but."  Robin spoke, still in his green Fae form.

         "How powerful do they need to be?  Isn't Willow over there a witch?   That's a type of magic user, maybe she could be the second in that cleansing ritual?"  Ed's words came from the couch, and his ears had flipped back, much the same way that an unhappy dog's would.

          "The type doesn't matter nearly as much as the level of power. Most humans can't come close by themselves, they need to be in groups. Which would work, but I wouldn't have any idea where to find enough human witches or demon witches for that matter."  Robin shrugged.  "So, how powerful are you, Red?"

               Willow looked at Robin, seeing that same look of smug superiority on his face.  As if no human could possibly be anything that would impress a Fae.  It made her feel insulted, and angry, and a bit curious how powerful the Fae actually were.  She dropped the masks that she'd used to conceal how much power she held, letting the strength of her magic leak out.  It wasn't the same vulnerability as lowering her shields, but it was like stepping from the shadowy corner into the spotlight.  "Why don't you tell me, Robin.  Am I strong enough for this ritual?"

             Some of the demons in the room stopped, turning to stare at the conversation.  Ed shivered, as if something was itching on his skin. Krannos made a sort of rumbling 'hmmm.'  Spike made a low growl, his features shifting to vampire.

       Robin blinked, his jaw dropping down a bit.    "I think. you could do this.  You could do a lot, Willow of Sunnydale."

          "Good.  Now, can we try to figure out who wants to open a Hellmouth and where they are so that we can stop them?  Maybe you can talk to this other mage that you know about the cleansing ritual?"  Willow tried to stay calm, but she could feel everyone's eyes on her.  She rebuilt the masking shields, covering her power again, not caring for the attention.

         "Yes Ma'am!"   The high-pitched voice came from a previously silent creature that looked almost exactly like Cousin It from the Addams Family, only a bit blonder.

           A good handful of the residents made their way out, their expressions or bearings showing their determination to find out who was threatening their town.  Some of them instead sort of edged back out of the lobby, retreating tot heir rooms, possibly trying to just stay out of it. Maybe they didn't know or care what a Hellmouth would mean.

            "I'll just go talk to that mage I know."  Robin offered a flamboyant salute that featured a bow, and when he stood up, he again had that impossibly bland human appearance.

                Willow sighed, looking over at Spike.  "I think I'm just going to go upstairs.  It's been a very long afternoon."

            "Right.  Make some more online orders, work on those lesson plans.  Have a little faith in the rest of us."  Spike nodded, and waved her towards the stairs.

                 Willow offered a small smile, and started for the stairs. A nice hot shower sounded really good now, especially considering the way the scene of the ritual had made her skin creep.  And really, she didn't want to go outside in the night alone, not with something ripping arms from bodies, and plots to create a Hellmouth.

~Part: 11~

~Part: 11~

Owen Burnett had finished a few reports that he’d then presented to David Xanatos. He was very careful to perform his duties with an impeccable efficiency that would make his somewhat bland personality a non-issue. And with it, any prying into his past. But his office wasn’t as empty as it should be. There was a young man standing inside, leaning against the wall. To a human, he would have looked blandly unremarkable, but he shone with the unmistakable aura of one of the Fae.

“To what do I owe this unexpected visit?” He kept his voice bland, the professional voice of Own Burnett, his carefully constructed human identity. Cold, professional, and polished.

“You are needed. The real you. Those killings… the drug runners… it wasn’t a matter of crime and profit. It was something… else.” The Fae’s voice was filled with emotion, and it was obvious that he was nervous.

Owen nodded, knowing that another Fae would be able to detect the truth about him – his disguise wasn’t a true and complete transformation, after all. But he was a bit troubled. The reports that he’d had indicated the killings had been… appallingly grisly, far beyond anything that humans were capable of. “So, what name are you using, and in what manner are you trying to convince me to assist?”

“Robin Lockwood, at your service, Mister Owen Burnett.” There was a tiny trace of humor, acknowledgement that neither Robin nor Owen were the real names of the beings in the room. But when he continued, his words were deadly serious, and the only emotional flavoring was from half concealed fear. “As for what I’m asking of you… The killings were part of a ritual sacrifice. The plan – which I do not know the details or source of – appears to be the creation of a Hellmouth. Right here in New York. While most of the humans probably wouldn’t notice, I think… it would be best not to have one of those here. I’m not powerful enough for a cleansing ritual though, not to be a Third.”

“Do you have anyone else for the Cleansing?” Owen was thoughtful, already debating the best way to convince Demona of this. Much as she might hate humans, the idea of a Hellmouth here would not go over well with her.

“One. A mortal woman, but she’s powerful. Powerful enough to be one of the Thirds. She’s staying in the same place that I am, one of the tucked away places that the humans of the city overlook. She’s the one that recognized what they were doing.” Robin looked slightly relieved, as if he’d dreaded the possibility that Owen might refuse.

“A mortal? Are you certain that she doesn’t hold Fae blood in her ancestry?” The detail was small, and really wouldn’t make much of a difference, but he had no reason not to ask.

“All I know is that she looks human, and feels pretty much human, just… strong. If there’s any Fae blood, I didn’t sense it.” Robin shrugged. “However, she’s very accepting of non-humans, almost unnaturally so for a mortal.”

Owen nodded, having finally placed the other Fae. He couldn’t quite remember the name at the moment, but Robin was among the lesser Fae of Oberon’s court, mischievous, and a bit disdainful of humans, but not of much power among the Fae. “Find a place, and have everything assembled by the full moon. I know someone that can be the other Third.”

Robin nodded, his eyes looking weary. “The full moon… of course. I will find a suitable location, and the supplies needed for the Cleansing. You’ll be in touch if you need anything, I’m sure.”

“Of course.” Owen nodded. A potential Hellmouth… that was definitely something to interfere with. He could use the excuse that it was for practice, or an old charge, perhaps, but the truth of it… He’d come to hold a measure of fondness for some of these mortals, and for the Clan of gargoyles as well.

A short time after Robin had left, Owen also left the Xanatos building, to any casual observer just another over worked executive making a very late journey home. He looked calm, and entirely unconcerned as he made his way to a dark section of alley. A quick glance revealed that it was empty and unobserved.

For the space of a heartbeat, the image of a pale haired, formal executive was replaced with a shorter figure in a flowing tunic, with long white hair and pointed ears, and then the alley was empty once more.

He’d used his magic to take him directly to Demona. He appeared floating in the air a bit behind the blue gargoyle, slightly surprised to find her in a park, gazing at a pond with a fountain at the center. She looked almost… peaceful. Pity that it most likely wouldn’t last. “Good evening, Demona.”

“Puck.” Her voice was almost flat as she turned around, hints of dismay and distrust evident. “What brings you to drop by? Surely not the desire to catch up on lost time…”

“Suspicion? My dear gargoyle, what on earth could cause… well, never mind that one.” Puck grinned, delighting in the freedom to act as he wished. Part of what made his disguise of Owen so effective was that he’d included a few restraints on his behavior. It felt good to be free for the moment. “New York is about to have a very big, very ugly problem.”

“So someone is that foolish. I was hoping that I was mistaken, that the traces of ritual weren’t…” She shook her head, looking as if she skirted the edge of memories. “Not even I would try something that dangerous, Puck.”

“I hadn’t even considered that of you. No, what brings me here…” Puck paused, trying to figure out the best way to phrase this. “You are still a practicing mage. There is a ritual that can be used… It won’t close it if they can finish creating a Hellmouth, but it can erase their progress. Unfortunately, it requires either three powerful casters, or enough lesser casters to make up for it. To be blunt…”

“You hate bluntness or getting directly to anything, trickster.” She was looking at him, traces of irritation in her eyes.

“For something like this, I’ll make an exception. To be blunt, the Cleansing ritual requires three powerful magic users that do not use Blood Magics. There is something of a scarcity of people with the required degree of power in the area, and I hesitate to go farther, for fear that it would take too long.” He looked at her, trying to judge her reactions.

“Powerful as you might be, you and I together are still only two. Who else is going to be in this Cleansing?” There was suspicion in her voice.

“The other caster… she’s mortal. Presumably human, from what he had to say. There was another who told me of the purpose behind the killings. He’s assured me that this mortal woman is strong enough.” Puck wondered how she would respond to that.

“A human…” Demona sighed, running her talons through her wild red hair. “At least that’s better than those three sisters. When and where will this ritual take place?”

“On the full moon, and the other Fae will figure out where. I’ll let you know.” Grinning at her now that he’d secured her cooperation, Puck vanished. Time to return to the dull life of Owen Burnett.

~Part: 12~

Willow had been trying to figure up suitable lesson plans. She wasn’t really a qualified teacher, with a degree that said she’d been taught how to teach, but the clones didn’t need algebra and the Napoleonic War, basic addition and reading were more of what was required. None of them really had much of an education, and while Delilah might be the most practiced conversationalist, it was only by a slender margin, and still not a resounding accomplishment. Of course, considering that they’d only been in existence for a fairly short time, they were doing very good.

They seemed so nice, sweet, might be a better word. They didn’t think that the world was joyful and welcoming, this Thailog had made certain of that. But there was still something about them, like they really wanted to believe that there could be a happily ever after, or wonderful secrets just waiting for them to discover. Maybe it was a sort of innocence.

She had a large box of things to take down there, including some pencils, crayons, an assortment of paper for writing practice and for art, and some basic books, Doctor Seuss and Winnie the Pooh, some Sesame Street. She’d even got some videos about counting and shapes. Hopefully, they would like the new books, and not find them too difficult to start with.

Hopefully this ritual wouldn’t leave her too flattened to teach the day after. Hopefully, Robin would be able to tell her when and where, and something about the other two people that would be in it. Hopefully, Robin wouldn’t turn out to be some sort of enemy.

Willow sighed, and made her way to the lobby. She felt the need for a bit of sunlight and the illusion of tranquility, and that just wouldn’t be good in a group of rooms that she shared with Spike. There were several beings already relaxing in the lobby and lounge, the only one that she recognized the four eyed blue furred woman, who was currently engrossed in a conversation in what might have been Russian with a scaled pink creature that reminded her of something that should be in one of those Japanese animated movies – big eyes, pastel colors, and this little, bitty skirt.

Willow allowed herself to drop into a chair near a window, a patch of sunlight falling directly over her. She smiled, feeling the warmth on her face. A small figure, perhaps three feet tall and reminding her of the leprechauns in Darby O’Gill, walked towards her, a piece of paper in one hand. Curls of hair as red as her own framed a cheerful face with dimples, and greenish eyes that seemed destined to laugh and twinkle. She was almost surprised when the voice carried a hint of a New York accent instead of an Irish one.

“Willow Rosenberg? Robin said I should give this to you if I saw you this afternoon.” His smile was just as cheerful as she’d expected.

Willow took the paper, her mind trying to figure out exactly what Robin might have left in a note. Maybe something about the ritual? “Thanks.”

“Sure thing. Hey, Willow? Are you sure that you’re all human?” There was nothing but curiosity in the twinkling green eyes.

“Well, umm, hey, what should I call you, anyhow?” Willow suddenly paused, realizing that she had no idea what to call this… well, maybe not a leprechaun, because even for her life, that would be weird, but still…

He grinned, dropping into the chair next to her, not quite in the sunshine, but still well lit. “I’m Mike. There’s a lot of my family around here… left the old country about a century back, and most of us never looked back. America’s just brimming with opportunities.”

Willow nodded, entirely unsurprised that immigration wasn’t limited to normal humans. “Well, as far as I know, I’m human. Both of my parents seem pretty… well, human and dull comes to mind. I’ve always sort of hoped that I was adopted, but I really don’t think that’s the case. Granted, there might be a little bit of… something, but… Neither of my parents really kept in touch with their family. Mom’s side has English and Irish, and a little French, and a whole slew of cousins in Washington. Dad’s side mostly German with a little Swedish and some French and English. Dad’s mom used to try to tell me all about it, wanting to keep the family history alive, but she died when I was seven.”

“Well, we can hope there’s something back a few generations.” He just grinned. “Otherwise, we’ll just have to adopt you as our token human.”

Willow snickered, delighted in the way everyone here seemed to be willing to either accept her or just let her be. Nobody was trying to force her to leave, or to make things miserable and uncomfortable. “As long as it’s not something that will turn me into some sort of nasty slavering fiend from hell…”

Mike just laughed. “No, not you, Willow. Maybe some of my people, or a hint of the Fae. Bit of tree nymph, maybe? Are there many tree names in your family?”

Willow leaned closer, trying to control her own snickering. “Mom’s family, her mother’s generation all got stuck with tree and flower names. There was Rowan, and Lily, and Daisy, and there were the twins Rose and Briar, and I think there was one named Cedar. I never met most of them, but apparently about half of them stuck their kids with nature sounding middle names. Mom’s was Almondine, which she despises. Probably why she gave me a tree name, so I could have one that made me just as miserable.”

“Do parents really do that sort of thing?” Mike was smiling, and watching her with a slight tilt to one eyebrow.

“Some do. I’m pretty sure that my mother would, although she wouldn’t give that as her explanation. Probably something about family traditions, and it being a pretty tree, and who would consider it odd in California?” Willow sighed. “My parents… well, let’s just say that I wouldn’t mind getting adopted by someone else. Just about anyone else.”

“Well, you’ll probably have a few people that might take you up on that, if you stick around here.” Mike grinned again, and hopped out of the chair, meandering towards a pot of coffee that someone had started on a table.

Willow didn’t even bother trying to ponder the feelings of hope and something that might be pride fluttering inside of her. Instead, she looked at the paper. Scrawled across in long, flowing letters were a few phrases. ‘First day of the Full Moon. Pender’s Park, by the pond.’

Well, at least she knew the time and place. That was something, even if it didn’t really calm her nerves any.

~Part: 13~

Willow managed to convince Spike to help her carry some of the supplies to the Labyrinth, where her students lived. He grumbled a bit, but it was pretty obvious to her that it was just for show. And if she worried more about her actual job, teaching the clones, it might help keep her from worrying too much about the Cleansing ritual.

“Willow! You came back!” Brentwood’s happy voice was a welcome sound.

“Of course I did! You didn’t think that I was just going to go away forever, did you?” Willow smiled, already certain that the littlest clone was also very insecure. “I just had to go get things. Some books, videos, paper and crayons and some watercolor paints… you should be able to have fun with some of them.”

“I was worried.” He looked so sad, his eyes downcast.

“Would you like to help me carry some of these things? It would give you the chance to be the first one to look through them…” Willow left the offer open, hoping that he wouldn’t feel obligated, but not wanting it to feel like work either.

“Paints? I can try to make a picture?” He looked so hopeful about the idea.

“Yes, paints. We’ll need to get a little water first, but you can make a picture.” Apparently, at least one person would enjoy her efforts at art instruction. “It won’t be the only thing we do tonight, but we can start with making pictures.”

“Talon had a room for lessons. To learn in. We go there with the boxes?” He sounded a little nervous, a little hopeful.

“Sounds good to me. Then I can put these down and check if there’s a telly.” Spike’s words didn’t quite sound like a grumble, and he flashed a small grin to the little purple gargoyle.

“Telly?” Brentwood frowned a little.

“Spike is from England. Sometimes, he uses a different word for things than people from America would. That’s just… slang, I guess.” Willow tried to explain, hoping that Brentwood wouldn’t end up confused by Spike. Of course, Spike was such a bundle of contradictions that most people ended up confused about him.

“England… that’s somewhere far away? Across the ocean?” This was Delilah, a small frown on her face. “I’m glad to see you, Willow.”

“Good. We brought stuff, to help you learn.” Willow paused, thinking about the sentence that had just come from her lips. ‘stuff’… and she was supposed to shape their future? “Can you find the others, so they can be here as well?”

“Of course, Willow.” Delilah nodded, her white hair almost obscuring one eye as she did. She left the room, her talons making faint clicking noises on the floor.

Spike had simply put the box that he was carrying onto the solid looking, if rather scarred and scuffed table. With a small wave, he then slipped out the door, presumably to prowl around the Labyrinth and look for a television and a place to smoke. Willow had just shaken her head, and started unpacking. There were a few shelves for the books, and a chalkboard on one wall, or rather, several bits of chalkboard carefully reassembled until it was an almost whole one.

Brentwood was looking at the colored construction paper, trying to decide which one he wanted. Considering that he should be quite content to do that for a while, Willow turned her attention to the chalkboard, and pulled on a little of her magic. Closing her eyes, she focused on an image of the chalkboard, whole and intact, a single, unbroken panel. She felt the power flicker out, felt it dance over the slate, blurring away the cracks, spreading over the gaps. When she opened her eyes, there were only a few fading golden flickers over the pristine and perfect chalkboard.

“Willow? We’re here.” Delilah’s voice was soft, almost nervous.

Turning, Willow discovered that indeed, they were all there. Not only that, but they were staring at the chalkboard as if it might move and bite them. Had they witnessed that bit of magic? Were they afraid of her now? “Good, please, come in, sit down. Brentwood wanted us to start with art, so this will give all of you a chance to make a picture. Any sort of picture that you’d like, crayon, colored pencil, watercolor… and you can draw anything. This is for you to just sort of relax and have a little fun before we move on to the next thing.”

Things settled down, and they moved into some basic numbers and shapes. Spike poked his head in at one point, letting her know that while they’d managed to get electric hookups, they didn’t have all the equipment that she wanted, so the videos would have to wait. Then they’d gone on to a picture book, and talked about different types of animals, and she’d had to tell them several times that some things just weren’t suitable for pets, like tigers, and wolves, and falcons.

They’d gone back out, looking for some dinner and possibly a chance to tell someone about what they’d done, leaving Willow with five pictures to tape onto the wall. There was a bright crayon picture of what Malibu assured her was a birthday party, the little bright colored ovals surrounding a box, and a pink blop on it. Brentwood had made a watercolor collection of swirls and lines, more playing with the brush and color than any specific picture. Hollywood had made a picture of a cheeseburger, with French fries. Burbank had drawn a collection of ovals and circles that was supposed to be a cat and her kittens. Delilah’s was odd, a pair of people little more complex than stick drawings, of a dark haired woman in a red jacket, and a blue gargoyle with red hair. She’d said it was a picture of her two mothers.

But the lessons had been good for the clones, and they’d enjoyed them. Spike had shown up at the door, asking if she was ready to go home, offering his arm when she’d nodded. As a small bonus, she hadn’t worried about the potential Hellmouth once all night.

~Part: 14~

Hudson made his way through the Labyrinth, looking for the clones. While Brooklyn felt that they were some sort of abomination, and Lexington found them… what had the word been? Ah, yes, ‘creepy’. They were the closest that the Clan had to children. Unless there was a wonderful change in the near future, and with the idea that the clone’s new teacher had mentioned gargoyles in California, there might be, there was currently little prospect of eggs for the Clan. To put it more bluntly, the only female gargoyles in the area were Demona, Angela, and Delilah. Goliath had found a few other places with a very few gargoyles on his trip away with Eliza, but that hadn’t been terribly encouraging. Three in London, four in Guatemala, the eggs of the Clan that had been taken to Avalon, and most encouraging, a Clan in Japan had been the extent of the gargoyles they knew of. Not very promising for the survival of his people.

They’d been created, made to look like gargoyles, but they hadn’t been taught much of anything. And while Xanatos had hired someone to teach them how to read and write and add things, that wouldn’t teach them how to be gargoyles. No, that took another gargoyle, someone to pass on the traditions and ways, and the old stories that explained ‘why’ for so many things. He’d helped teach Goliath’s generation, and been helping teach the generation that had brought forth the younger three, Brooklyn, Broadway, and Lexington. Before, there would have been more people to teach, more young gargoyles learning, more elders teaching, but times had changed, and the gargoyles had dwindled.

He sighed, feeling his bones ache from the dampness, the joints of his shoulders and knee feeling stiff from the passing of too many years. He would also be able to learn a bit of what they thought of this woman, their teacher. Apparently, the lass hadn’t been frightened by Brooklyn or Goliath, but that didn’t tell him if she was a good person or not. But if he could learn how the clones viewed her, what they had to say of their teacher… Perhaps he could learn more. Learn if she would be someone they could trust, or another enemy.

Glancing along the hallways, he caught sight of one of the clones, little Brentwood. “Ah, lad. How are you this night?”

Looking up, the smaller gargoyle offered a shy smile. “Happy. Willow came back. She brought neat things. Books with pictures and letters, and paper to write on, and paper to make pictures with, and paint and crayons and pencils that write in pretty colors.”

“So, you started lessons today?” Hudson smiled a little, still finding Brentwood’s red eyes odd, but knowing that it was hardly the lad’s fault. More unsettling was the lad’s awkwardness with words and his hesitation with everything. From his size, he should be a fine gargoyle lad of nearly thirty, with those years of learning and exploration behind him, not a clone created to be a soldier and guard for a mad gargoyle little more than a year ago. “Were your lessons interesting?”

“Oh yes! We made pictures. Then, she read to us about animals, and talked about different habita… habitats. Which are places that animals and people live. And we wrote letters and numbers on the chalkboard.” Brentwood was almost beaming.

“What sort of pictures?” Hudson was a bit curious. The clones were still becoming their own people, still learning how to be themselves, and still trying to figure out who they were, what they liked.

Reaching up, Brentwood took Hudson’s hand and started pulling him down the hallway. Eyes bright with enthusiasm, he spoke his invitation. “Come and see! The letters are still on the board too.”

Hudson knew which room the clones were using for their schooling, he’d helped carry in the table for it. But the shelves now had rows of books, and stacks of paper, boxes of crayons and paints. Five pictures had been taped to the wall. A globe sat on a filing cabinet, and there were long pieces of chalk on the tray of the chalkboard. Wait a moment, how had it… “I thought yon chalkboard was all broken?”

Brentwood leaned closer, as if he was about to tell a big secret. “It was broken. But she did something… put sparkles over it and when they went away, it was like this, all one piece.”

Hudson looked at the chalkboard again, frowning slightly. Sparkles that fixed it, hmm? Was Willow a mage of some sort? Why would a mage be teaching young gargoyles how to read? It would make sense if she were a gargoyle mage, but not for a human. Mages were very unpredictable, some good, more unpredictable, and some that were bad. Where did Willow fall among those groups? “Is she patient with the lot of ye?”

Brentwood smiled, nodding his head. “Willow is nice. She didn’t make us work at anything too long, we kept changing things when it started to get bad. And she didn’t tell us that our questions were silly, although she told Hollywood that he couldn’t have a pet tiger.”

Chuckling, Hudson nodded. “A tiger might be a bit difficult to feed, and from what I hear, they don’t tame very well. It’s good to hear that ye enjoyed the lessons.”

“They were fun. But…” Brentwood looked up at Hudson, his expression pleading. “Can we hear some stories about the old gargoyles? From when you were young?”

“Of course ye can. Let’s just find the others, and then I can tell a few tales for you.” Hudson smiled, glad that he would be able to try to pass on some of the gargoyle history. His questions of Willow and her magic could wait for another time.

~Part: 15~

And at the police station, Matt Bluestone was wondering if he had somehow offended God, or whatever forces ran the universe. They’d found a witness to the warehouse where the drug smugglers had been ripped apart, a girl of about sixteen, too skinny, with dark brown hair flopping into her eyes. She sort of huddled in the chair, looking as if she expected something terrible to happen at any moment. She’d said that her name was Cassie, and that she didn’t have a home anymore.

Cassie had given a few bits of information about herself, saying that she ran a few errands for some of the local business owners, and in return, they helped keep her ‘more or less okay’. She’d explained to him that she’d heard screaming from the warehouse, and it had ‘really freaked her out’. Cassie had then tried to get some idea what was going on, ‘so the operator wouldn’t laugh at me if I reported screaming.’ She’d seen three large figures run out of the building, dripping with blood. That would have been great, except for the description of them.

Large, meaning seven to eight feet tall, with either no hair or very short hair. Their arms had looked like they had an extra joint, and had ended in six fingered hands with vicious claws. There had been big, glowing orange eyes, ‘the color of a lit cigarette end’. In other words, she said that she’d seen monsters. No wonder she looked scared.

Either the girl had taken really bad drugs and had the freakiest hallucination he’d ever heard of, or there had been terrible looking somethings that had killed those criminals. Considering that he knew of the existence of gargoyles, and mutated people that looked like overgrown cats with wings, and Eliza had told him about fairies being real, he wasn’t going to dismiss the possibility that maybe Cassie really had seen something horrible. Especially after reading those autopsy reports.

After a long pause for all of this to go through his mind, Matt looked up at her. “Did you see which way they went?”

With a half shrug, Cassie nodded. “ They jumped into a delivery truck… sort of gray, and it had some fruit on the side. Then they drove off, headed downtown. I didn’t follow them.”

Writing down everything she’d said, Matt sighed again. “Well, I have no idea how I’m going to explain this one. Thanks.”

Blinking in surprise, she looked at him. “You believe me?”

“Yeah kid, I believe you.” He looked at the papers on his desk, seeing the edge of the folder holding the reports. “I saw what was left of those guys. I knew whatever was responsible was a monster, I guess… I just hadn’t expected it to come with claws.”

Cassie sort of nodded, and made her way towards the exit, apparently deciding to loiter long enough to drink a cup of coffee before leaving. Or maybe she just didn’t feel safe out there, after what she’d seen?

Matt Bluestone made his way to the office of his captain, hoping that she wouldn’t’ chew him out for this interview. Of course, the fact that it sounded like a scene from a horror movie didn’t help things. Tapping at the door, he spoke, unaware of the resigned dismay in his voice. “Captain? I’ve finished that interview…”

* * * *

In his office near the top of the Xanatos Tower, Owen Burnett paused in the doorway, glancing at his employer. David Xanatos was looking out the full window, gazing over the city. It gleamed in the darkness, the twinkle of streetlights and scattered windows making the place into a canyon of shadows. Somehow, he doubted that he was thinking such poetic thoughts. “A moment of your time, Mr. Xanatos.”

“Owen.” Turning to face him, Xanatos offered a small smile. He seemed to have settled since his marriage to Fox, becoming a bit less ruthless, a bit more restrained in his endeavors. “What brings you here?

“I must request some time off.” The words were in his blandest Owen-voice. “A situation has come up which will require my attentions… elsewhere. It is absolutely imperative that it be attended to.”

“Absolutely imperative… does this have to do with the reports on Nightstone?” David Xanatos looked as if he was attempting to guess what might be motivating his loyal employee. “Or perhaps… does this affect Alexander’s education, perhaps?”

“No, sir. I’m afraid that this is something more important.” He adjusted the blue silk tie, wishing that his employer knew enough that he could explain. But while Xanatos knew about the existence of gargoyles, and the Fae, and even that Owen was also Puck, he wouldn’t understand about a Hellmouth.

Looking absolutely stunned, Xanatos blinked. “More important than the possibility that my mother in law might try to take my only son away from me?”

“This is… it is not a matter of politics, or profit. It is…” Owen tried to find a way to explain it to someone that didn’t know, couldn’t understand. There wasn’t time to explain everything about it. “It is a matter that could affect the entire city. Technically, I am bending Lord Oberon’s commands, and justifying it because the alternative is worse than his wrath.”

“Worse?” Carefully, David Xanatos sat down in his chair, his face looking paler than normal. “Something that you consider worse than his wrath? I don’t even know if I want to know… When do you need this time off?”

“It would not be during the normal business hours, although you are known to keep a somewhat erratic schedule.” He walked over, depositing a stack of reports and briefings onto the desk. “The first night of the full moon. I will require the entire night, from sundown to sunrise. I will be able to resume my normal work activities the next day.”

“Considering how important this must be if you’re willing to push that boundary… I think we’ll be able to cope.” The worried expression was not one often seen on his employer. “Just make certain that it’s dealt with.”

“Of course, sir.” Owen nodded, already trying to figure out when he would be able to give the longer explanation that he knew Xanatos would want. “It is my hope that this incident will be something that can be put far behind us.”

~Part: 16~

"You aren't going alone."  Spike's determined words came from the dark corner of the room, almost echoing.

Willow smiled at him, somehow not surprised at this announcement.  "You want to go with me.  Is it because you don't trust Robin, because you think the Ritual might be interrupted, or maybe simple curiosity?"

With a smug grin, Spike dropped onto the couch.  "Yes."

"Spike."  Willow tried not to smile.  She was trying to worry about this ritual, this really big, important, demanding ritual that she was going to be working with two entirely unknown but powerful people that probably had been working magic longer than her.  "This is serious."

"So am I, on occasion."  He looked at her, his face still smiling, but not his eyes.  "Robin' s Fae, and none of the legends about them have them all 'save the human's.  Fact is, some of the legends are pretty unfriendly.  I believe that he doesn't want a Hellmouth, but that doesn't mean that I trust him any farther than saying this ritual will make it better.  And you're talking about New York, at night.  Of course something might attack, even a human."

"Spike. if a human tries anything."  Willow felt this warm glow that Spike wanted her safe, but he still had that chip.  He couldn't hurt a human.

"Simple solution.  Krannos and his sister informed me that they're going.  Apparently. Something like this is almost historical, and they want to be able to tell they're people and hypothetical future offspring all about it.  Neither of them, would have a problem with killing a human if need be."  Spike grinned, leaning farther back.  "You get bodyguards, like it or not."

Willow smiled at him, part of her fairly certain that she shouldn't be so cheerful that he'd just told her that three people willing to kill would be following her to this ritual.  "Thanks.  Nut you'll have to make certain nobody else gets interrupted and attacked either.  It won't just be me trying to do this."

"Any time, Red.  I love a decent spot of violence."  Spike appeared to relax, looking almost boneless as he leaned on the couch.  "Maybe a little redecoration in here. some new curtains, couple throw pillows."

Willow just giggled, not quite certain if Spike was serious or not.  It could be hard to tell with him.  But things didn't seem quite so serious or troubling anymore.  She wouldn't be alone, wouldn't be entirely vulnerable during this extremely, scarily important ritual.  Robin had given her a paper that had the Ritual, had everything written down so that she would be able to prepare.  Some chanting in Latin, Greek, and Hebrew, which she could manage.  Burning certain purifying and aromatic herbs and oils, also easily managed.  A triangle with the other two casters, so that their energies would blend smoothly, well that was simple geometry.

She wondered what the other casters would be.  Would they be human? Fae?  Demons?  Would their chanting be in other languages, or also Latin, Greek, and Hebrew?  Would they be anyone that she might see again?

Maybe she should call, check in with Sunnydale, just to make certain that everyone there would be alright?  That they were as safe as you could expect over a Hellmouth?  She reached for the phone, dialing the familiar number for the Magic Box.  Anya's voice was unexpectedly welcome.

:Hello, Magic Box.  How may I be of assistance today?:  There was a cheerfulness to Anya's voice that couldn't be just the phone.

"Hey, Anya.  This is Willow.  I sort of wanted to check in, make sure everybody's okay."  Willow settled back into the chair, cradling the phone against her face.

:We're doing. well, we're still all doing.  Buffy did run into that one guy again in the park, and they found a lot in common.  He's nice, which I'd expected, and nobody here is having any objections to him.  I'll have to tell you all about it later, maybe an email?  Xander and I are very happy, and I hope that you're making a lot of money at your new job.  Giles is. well, he's got his friend Olivia over for the weekend, so we aren't seeing very much of him right now, and he's pretty cheerful.:  There was a pause, and she could hear Anya say 'That comes to twelve seventeen.' The cash register jingled, and a cheerful 'have a good day, please come back again' could be heard before she had Anya's attention again.

"I just wanted to check in.  Things here are. well, things are going fairly good.  I have great neighbors, and my job isn't too hard."  Willow wondered how much Anya was leaving out due to the presence of customers.

:You'll have to send an email with more details.  And I can give you the longer version.:  Anya sounded cheerful.  :But I've got a lot of customers in here, so maybe I should let you go and I can send that email later?:

"Okay, that works.  It's just. good to know that everything's good."  Willow hung up the phone, feeling soothed by the brief conversation.

~Part: 17~

Willow picked up her jacket, glancing for a moment at her clothing.  A pair of jeans and one of her older sweaters, with various colored green stripes and little bands of copper.  It was fuzzy, and soft, and reassuring.  Comfortable sneakers were on her feet.  She looked entirely normal, and pretty much harmless.  "It's me, and comfy, but am I going to look silly doing a magical ritual in it?"

        "How silly do most rituals look?  And isn't there some tradition about. what was the term, skyclad?  Think that would be a bit more traditional?"  Spike grinned at her, his teasing smile comfortingly familiar by now.

        "Traditional, yeah, but I don't think so.  I am not stripping naked to work magic with a pair of strangers outside in the middle of New York." Willow shuddered at the thought.  She was getting over her stage fright, but the idea of nakedness with strangers. eeek.  She'd rather fight a pair of attacking vampire minions.  "Right, lets go."

          "We will make certain your ritual is not interrupted."  Krannos and his sister were waiting in the lobby, both dressed in the tight leather and armed.  She had swords and a collection of knives, while he had this long sort of double ended axe thing.  His voice was still all rumbly, but it almost sounded. sort of friendly, and sort of impressed.

  Willow blinked, smiling at the pair of them as she tried to blink back the tears that threatened to fall.  She shouldn't be getting so choked up and emotional about people being willing to kill to keep a ritual going, right?  But it was more than that.  She felt accepted here, like she belonged.  "Thanks.  For all of this."

        Krannos' sister made a noise, sort of like a dismissive snort. "You're thanking us?  Something like this takes more magic than most of us will ever see, and you have that much power.  It makes you special.  It also marks you as a target.  The fact that you're willing to do this, to help this place, to help all of us. it isn't anything that we've come to expect from a human."

Willow felt the hopes in both of them, like a glowing signal into the darkness.  They were counting on her to prevent the creation of a Hellmouth.  The idea of it was. staggering, and it made her mouth feel dry and her insides felt like they were tangling into knots.  Could she really pull this off?  They made her sound like some sort of a hero.  "Well, not everybody's the same.  People are different, and eventually, somewhere there has to be a nice person."

           Spike chuckled, the tip of his cigarette glowing in the dark. "Willow, you got to stop that sort of thing.  Don't gloat over it like some people, but at least admit it when you're doing something big and important."

          She almost managed to forget her nervousness enough to glare at the back of his head.  "Spike, you forgot one little thing in your description of this.  Terrifying.  Lots of magic in a big ritual with people that I don't know and if I fail. if we fail, we get a Hellmouth."

  "Calm down, Red.  I have faith in you.  You'll pull this off, same as you do every other important spell, and then we can relax."  Looking around, he gestured towards the trees.  "Here we are.  Time to chant."

          Willow offered a faint smile as she followed Spike into the park, feeling Krannos and his sister lurking behind her, close enough if things happened, but out of the sight of humans.  Robin was there, looking green and frustrated.  Sort of floating near him was another Fae, this one all pale with long hair and a flowing tunic and pants, the sort of thing that looked straight out of a faerie tale.  The pale Fae had an amused smile, as if he found something about this quite funny.  And there was another person, standing in the shadows.  She couldn't tell very much, just that the person seemed to be wearing a cloak, stood close to six feet tall, and had glowing red eyes.

  "Hey, Robin.  I'm here."  Willow smiled, hoping that the fluttering nerves wouldn't show.

          "This is your Third?  She's."  The pale Fae looked shocked, and there was something unreadable glittering in his eyes.  "She's too young, what can she know about power and control and the importance of this?"

          "Do we have an alternative, Puck?"  The figure stepped out of the shadows, and what Willow had taken for a cloak turned out to be a pair of wings, belonging to a red haired gargoyle woman with blue skin.

   Willow blinked, part of her fairly certain that this gargoyle seemed almost familiar somehow.  The red hair, the cheekbones.  but the only red haired gargoyle that she'd seen had been Ember, years before.  Why would this one look familiar, when they hadn't met?

   The blue gargoyle woman looked over, her eyes meeting Willow's.  "You look like you've never seen a gargoyle before."

          "Actually, you're the second red haired gargoyle that I've met. Is it more common for gargoyles to have red hair than humans?"  Willow offered a smile, hoping that the gargoyle woman hadn't felt like she was trying to be rude.

          "The second.  But.  It is more common among gargoyles, but still not terribly common."  She looked surprised, as if she hadn't expected that sort of an answer.  "So, what makes him think that you can do this?  You don't project much of a presence."

"I lived over a Hellmouth.  One of the first things I learned to do, magically speaking, was to not project.  Sort of cuts down on scary things trying to eat me, or carve me up as a sacrifice, or change me into something else, or. well, assorted bad things."  Willow tried to shrug as if it was not such a big deal.  But life in Sunnydale had been scary, and this ritual was intimidating as well.  She let the masking shields slip away, having the suspicion that she wouldn't be able to concentrate on them while doing this ritual.  "And I've seen what you end up with if you do get a Hellmouth."

           Puck looked at her, something almost like anger in his eyes. "What will happen to the people left behind if this ritual is to powerful for you?  You can't tell the future."

         "There are some things more important than will I get a headache. A screaming, hissing, multi headed mouth of Hell is a bigger problem." Willow glared at him, wondering if he really doubted her, or if there was something else behind his worries.  She allowed her vision to slip over, blurring the physical world with the colors of magic and auras.  Robin's aura was greens and iridescent swirls in a shifting pattern.  This new Fae's aura was stronger, white and gold and blue in a dancing pattern that couldn't be mistaken for human.  The gargoyle's aura was in gem tones, glimmering bits of ruby, garnet, and amethyst.   "Shall we get this started?"

~Part: 18~

     The ritual started simply enough.  Each of them took a position, forming a triangle, the spots easily marked thanks to the lines of salt and herbs that Robin had laid out, and the candles encircling the diagrams.  Willow had no idea where or how the Fae had found over two dozen candles that were close to her own height, and really didn't think it was the time or place to ask.  More troubling was the suspicion that the height of the candles might be an indication of the length of the ritual.

         Considering that Puck was dressed in a tunic and pants, and the gargoyle was in what looked like a few scraps of leather, her jeans and sweater shouldn't be a problem at all.  Or maybe they had just gone for comfort as well.  She swallowed, her palms feeling damp and her mouth feeling dry as she stood in the corner, gathering her courage to start. Thank heavens that it appeared Puck would be the first to speak in this ritual.

           Soon, the nervousness that Willow had felt melted away under the rush and pressure of the power that they were calling on.  She could feel it in the air, sort of like humidity, or maybe it was more like the way that a person could feel the sunlight on their skin.  The presence of the power melted her fears away, pushed back her worries and her concerns, leaving nothing but focus, and calm resolve that this would work, that the start of the Hellmouth would be purified away, leaving only healthy magic and healthy ground.

      That was the feeling that she loved about strong magics.  When the magic pushed in, filling her with power and leaving no room for fear, or self-doubt, or nervousness.  No worries about what might be lurking, or tests, or what people might think.  It was a glorious feeling, and the closest that she could compare was that moment when the gargoyle that she thought of as Ember had lifted her up into the air.

           Willow couldn't fly, but she could work magic.

          Robin watched as the three chanted, their power thick enough that he could taste it.  The pure power of the Fae, the power of a gargoyle mage, and mortal magic combined into something new, and he could feel it, making his skin tingle.  Power danced around them, golden sparkles over Willow, a soft red glow around the gargoyle, and dancing wisps of shimmering mist around Puck.  The ritual would work- it had to work.

Of course, the fact that Willow's magic had the flavor of human magic blended with nature magic was a little odd.  Not as worrisome as the sheer quantity of it, but unusual.  She'd just accepted the fact that the other two in the ritual weren't human, just accepted the possibility of harm, just.  It was unsettling, and contrary to everything that he'd learned about human behavior over the past nine hundred years.

   "Is it courage, or does the idea of a Hellmouth just scare her more than the ritual?  Do you even know what can happen if a ritual goes bad, Willow?"  Robin could feel the eyes of the vampire on him, aware that Spike had followed.

       Spike twitched as the candles suddenly flared to life, every third candle burning with flames the color of the power being used.  A third of them burned greenish golden, like Willow's magic.  A third burned white, for Puck.  The final third burned red, like embers or rubies lit by flames, showing the power of the gargoyle woman.  "Bloody magic. trying to scare the life out of me?  Bit late for that."

"It's an effect of the power.  They probably didn't even notice the candles lighting."  Robin glanced over at the vampire.  He seemed unusual, even for the type.  "So, why do you think she's doing this?"

           "Red. Willow would tell you that she's more afraid of the idea of another Hellmouth than anything else that she could think of."   Spike glanced at the trio of mages again, and a shiver passed over him.  "But it's not just that.  She.  she helps people, tries to keep them safe, help them get better, help them feel better.  It's the whole charitable merciful sort of thing that humans are always saying is wonderful, almost never practice, and tend to ignore when they see it."

          "That's not always safe."  Robin hadn't taken his eyes off the ritual, fascinated and a bit awed by the dancing threads of power, more power than he'd ever be able to raise.

"No, it isn't.  That's the whole reason she even got into magic, trying to help her friends.  They don't even see how special she is, not for the magic, but for the caring."  Spike sighed, glancing around the park.

     Of course, things never go entirely smoothly.  A group of minions, apparently possessing the mental capacity of a mosquito, decided to attack.  Utter stupidity - why attack a group pf people surrounded by six inch high Technicolor candle flames that are also glowing with power?  They were soon killed, not only by Robin and Spike, but by the pair of Kordathen lurking in the shadows.

  "Haven't seen many of those around lately either."  Robin's murmur fell into the darkness, and if anybody heard, they said nothing.

   The moonlight shone down as the ritual continued.  Voices chanted in an assortment of languages, beseeching powers of protection to hear them, to heal and purify this place, to prevent the mouth of evil from opening.  Power shone over the trio, and the air was thick with it.

   It was a few hours before dawn when their voices became silent, and the power did something, sort of a pulsing, and then it just. seemed to melt into the ground.  The flames over the candles guttered, flickering out, leaving a circle of smoking wicks around an oddly perfect circle of wax, with evenly spaced lumps sticking up to mark where the candles once stood.  That was about the only warning before Willow and the gargoyle woman collapsed, neither of them moving, although they both had steady pulses.  Puck sagged, looking rather worn and exhausted as well.

"That's done with, now.  Hopefully, we'll never need to do anything like this again.  Good morning and good bye."  He just, sort of flickered, like a bad movie special effect, and was gone.

~Part: 19~

           Spike looked at Willow, who showed no signs of moving anytime in the near future.  The same could be said for the gargoyle woman.  There was something about her.  It clicked for him.  The older gargoyle had mentioned two gargoyles to watch out for, a charcoal colored male, and a female with blue skin and red hair.  He'd called her Demona, and said that she felt humans were dangerous for the gargoyle species.  Considering things, she was probably right.  But he couldn't leave a gargoyle just laying unconscious in the park.  She wouldn't be safe.

"Right, Krannos, could you get the gargoyle?  Might as well take her back with us, she wouldn't' be safe out here."  He lifted Willow into his arms, feeling the traces of power flickering over her skin, smelling it clinging to her.  Her own power was still there, a soft feeling over his skin, reminding him of swimming in the ocean.  "Guess you didn't put those masks back up, did you?"

         The trip back to the apartment building was quiet.  Robin had stayed behind to clean up the ritual, and make certain that nobody would find any mundane traces that would reveal anything had taken place.  Krannos carried Demona, and Spike carried Willow, leaving the doors for Krannos' sister to open. The pair of them kept glancing at Willow and Demona, their expressions amazed and respectful.

"Where should we put her?"  Krannos glanced at the gargoyle draped limply in his arms.

          "I guess on my couch.  She should be alright there, and it's not too uncomfortable."  Spike was already pondering what to do about things. Not just the sleeping gargoyle, but Willow.  If she was still feeling that tired come evening, maybe she shouldn't go to teach the clones tonight?

         After laying the gargoyle on the couch, the pair of them left the room, murmuring something as they left.  Spike just placed Willow on her bed, slipping her shoes off of her feet and letting them fall.  Then, he went back to the front room, sitting in a chair where he could watch the gargoyle.  He drifted into slumber, and for a while, the rooms were quiet.

  Sunrise made Spike stir, instincts suddenly worried about his safety.  That stirring meant that he heard the sound, like bones popping out of joint.  He opened his eyes, a low growl rumbling as he tried to figure out what threat had got into his room.

           The body of Demona arched up, pain causing her body to spasm even in her unconsciousness.    Then, it was as if her body. yes, it was reshaping itself.  Her wings and tail shrank, almost retracting into her body, even as her skin paled, and her feet shrank.  Within a minute, instead of a sleeping gargoyle on his couch, there was what to all appearances was a sleeping human woman.  She was still in the same leather and golden jewelry, still had the same red hair, but now, she looked. well, human.  That wasn't right at all, weren't gargoyles stone in the daytime?

         "Looks like things have just gotten a bit more complicated here." Spike let the whisper fall into the apartment, still looking at the sleeping red haired female on the couch.  Was she a gargoyle, or a human?  Was she some sort of hybrid?  Was this going to cause. oh, he knew that one.  Of course this would cause more trouble.

           He walked over to the phone, dialing the number for the desk of Owen Burnett, leaving a message on the annoying suit's voice mail that Willow wasn't feeling well, and probably wouldn't be able to work on that project today.  After he'd put the phone down, he checked on Willow, thankful that the curtains were closed. It wouldn't be comfortable to spend much time in there, but he could make certain that she was alright.  After all, she was his friend, and he didn't have many of those.  Not that he'd want that bit of news to get around, wouldn't do for William the Bloody to get a reputation for hanging around with humans.  Or for owning an apartment building.

The question became, what would happen now?  Would Demona be as much of a problem for them as she seemed to have been for Hudson and his Clan?  Would the pair of Fae be trouble?  Maybe that really should be would the pair of Fae try to direct trouble to them.  And how long would it take for Willow to recover from this?  The only other major casting that he knew of was when she'd restored Angel's soul, and apparently that had been hard on her.

Well, he had always claimed that he liked things to be interesting.  Maybe this would teach him to keep his mouth shut.  Probably not.

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