Willow wandered through St. James's Park. Even at this
late hour there
were a number of people about. She drifted sightlessly
past them, her
hunger having been satiated several hours ago.
She paused to look out over the unrippled water where
a pair of ducks
were gliding effortlessly across the surface. Effortless.
So effortless
to wander about until dawn. Effortless to lay down on
the cool grass
and let the first rays of the waking sun warm her lifeless
body for a
brief moment before turning it to ash. So effortless.
"Coward," she whispered softly to herself.
The arguement in the courtyard puzzled her. Why was Spike
so hell-bent
against it? He didn't really believe he'd lose her, did
he? Why was
Angel so adamant? He didn't love her, not that way, and
even their
friendship had taken a turn since Spike had made her.
Why should it
matter so much to him, to either of them? Why was it
their decision at
all? She could think for herself, and it was her eternity,
after all.
Men were indecipherable, even in unlife. Why bother trying?
She turned and walked along the path that lead to the
bridge spanning
the water. She leaned over the railing and stared down.
No reflection.
No reflection of anything, for too many years. The slayer,
Oz, Xander,
Giles, old foes, older friends. She'd hurt them, badly.
Beyond
redemption. What did it matter? They meant nothing to
her, now. Forget
it. Forget them.
"Coward," the word wafted through her brain.
***
Angel lay across the bed, staring into the darkness.
He'd searched for
two hours. She could be anywhere. She could be with Spike.
She should
be here, with him. A gnawing feeling in the pit of his
stomach told him
he'd blown his last chance. Arguing over her like two
adolescent boys.
Very impressive.
He'd intended to tread gently, carefully persuade her
to trust him.
Instead, he'd sounded demanding, pompous, threatening.
He could hardly
blame her for leaving the two of them there, screaming
in the dark,
like the idiots they were. He'd lost. Lost everything.
Her patience,
her reluctant willingness to listen, her friendship.
He'd wait until
tomorrow, make sure she was okay, before heading back
to Sunnydale.
***
Spike paced the floor in the bedroom. He turned and eyed
the empty bed.
Where the bloody hell was she? He'd searched as long
as he'd dared. It
would be dawn in less than an hour. Why the hell couldn't
Angel have
stayed in Sunnydale and played with his damn slayer?
Damn his
interference. If anything happened to Willow, he'd cut
the bastard's
balls off and shove them up his ass before he staked
him.
He'd lost Dru, not that it mattered anymore. But Willow
was everything.
His childe, his partner, his lover, his best friend,
everything. If she
didn't come back, he couldn't go on. He sank down onto
the edge of the
bed as the mantle clock struck the half hour.
"Damn it, baby. Where are you?" he whispered.
End.