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PlethoCorp, Willow found, really should've been called CreepyCorp. Angel was right- the place was a tomb. A tomb without bodies, but full of dead people nonetheless. Empty desks everywhere. Clipboards and pens and memos and computers all flashing blue failure screens. Garfield coffee cups half filled with cold, murky liquid, and beanie babies, and family photos carefully framed and lovingly placed on desk tops.
There was some comfort in the familiarity of it all, compared to the woods especially. But the overwhelming feeling was one of life abruptly and inexplicably called to a halt. Very quiet. Very still. Very Twilight Zone.
Angel had given her strict instructions not to wander beyond the second floor, which was probably going to be just fine. She didn't have much of a desire to see the other floors, as they were almost certainly exactly the same. But Spike hadn't heard the instructions- he'd wandered off before Angel had a chance to say anything. If she didn't find him on this floor she would have to venture further, and that would be all kinds of bad.
She cursed him as she wandered through the maze of cubicles. Stupid Spike and his stupid wandering. He'd done it in the woods a couple of times, too. Nearly scared her half to death. This building was so freaking big. If they lost each other in here, it might take a month just to get found again. If they even wanted to get found. She was starting to wonder about Spike, if he was maybe trying to get lost on purpose.
At least she knew where Angel was- curled up on the sofa in the lobby, sound asleep for the first time since this whole thing started, as far as Willow could tell. And he was going to stay there. He'd promised her. She was supposed to go back and wake him up if she hadn't found Spike in an hour. And if she did find him- two hours.
That was one of the vaguely comforting things about PlethoCorp. The clocks still worked. She finally knew what time it was. Four-thirty seven, presently. AM or PM, she had no idea, and figuring out the date would be harder than the differential equations in her old Calculus 3 class, but there was time again. Sort of.
And she only had forty-five minutes left to find Spike. He wasn't hiding in the cubicle of Margaret Dobson- she of the mighty corkboard full o' Cathy cartoons- and he wasn't in the broom closet, and it was starting to look like she might have to visit the third floor after all. Only places left on this floor were the restrooms.
No sign of him in the men's room, but what she did see caused her heart to pump wildly in dismay. It was a girl. A shell of a girl really, with sallow, gray pits for eyes, chapped and broken lips, stringy, knotted hair, sunken cheeks, rags for clothes, and a body so small and malnourished she might've starred in an ad for the Save the Children foundation. It took a few minutes for her to realize she was looking at her own reflection. And when she did realize, she almost cried.
It wasn't fair. How could that be her? How could she be this shrunken, concentration camp, wild beastie girl? She expected to maybe look a little messy, but this...God, it was horrifying. The guys didn't look like this. No, for them it was all "I'm rugged wilderness guy. Behold my sexy facial hair." But for her it was "Somebody give me a sandwich and a bath before I drop dead." Not fair at all.
She had to do something. There wasn't a shower, of course, but there was soap, and a sink, and a little bottle of Scope, and she'd seen a brush or two in the land of cubicles. She went back and gathered every possible personal grooming implement she could find, then blasted the hot water in the bathroom- ignoring Angel's voice in her head, telling her to conserve, telling her they surely wouldn't have that for long.
She scrubbed her face and hands and hair, then peeled off her sweater and shirt and ran a soapy washcloth over her underarms. She tried to ignore the way her bra was sagging off her flesh. They'd grow back. Just as soon as she started eating regularly again. Not that they were ever much to speak of in the first place, but at least they existed.
When she was done with the washing, she brushed her hair. The moisturizing hand soap she'd used as a shampoo had done some conditioning work, so getting the knots out wasn't as difficult and painful as she'd imagined at first. And in the end, she almost looked human again. Almost, but not quite. Maybe if she could find some makeup. But then she imagined herself with eye shadow and blush, and the picture was even scarier. She'd look like an icky, decayed doll.
So, she gargled some Scope and set out looking for Spike again. And possibly some food.
She found both. There was one place on the second floor she hadn't searched- the break room. It was set off to the side, hidden like an unwanted appendage, and she only found it because of the noises. As she walked down the hall, towards the stairwell, she heard the unmistakable sound of canned laughter.
She followed it to a door which, upon opening, revealed Spike sitting in a fold-out chair, his feet propped up on a rickety old card table, watching The Facts of Life on a tiny black and white TV, through an ocean of static. And he had food. A box of Wheat Thins. She thought she might drool, or lunge at him and rip it out of his hands, but she didn't have to. He heard her behind him and held up the box, shook it so the contents rattled temptingly.
"Come and get it," he said. "There's plenty more in the cupboard."
More crackers, she wondered, or more food in general. Her mind reeled, thinking about what other tasty treats might be right in this very room with her. She decided to stick with the Wheat Thins for now, though, since he was offering them. She sat in the other chair and he handed them to her.
She tried not to devour them too quickly- didn't want to make herself sick- but they tasted so good. She needed them so badly.
"I can't believe this is on," she said, around a mouthful of food.
"Satellites or something. You know, a thousand light years away from here, some aliens are probably sitting around watching I Love Lucy reruns."
She smiled and grabbed another handful of crackers.
"You look better," he said, giving her a sideways glance.
"I look horrible. Like I'm dying or something."
"You're not dying," he assured her. "Just a little skinny is all. Like one of those runway model bints. It's actually very chic."
"Don't like it."
"Well, eat more," he told her, and she did. They sat together and watched Tootie befriending a prostitute in a New York City diner, and when the episode was over, the cracker box was empty. Some commercials she vaguely remembered from the 80s came on next, and another wave of creepiness washed over her. Then it was more Facts of Life, and digging through the cupboard for another treat. There was so much in there to chose from; a huge, unopened bag of Doritos, cans of soup, boxes of cereal, granola, cherry Pop Tarts. And Power Bars. Those sounded like the best choice in terms of energy and weight gain. She brought one back to the table to nibble on.
"Do you think Jo's a dyke?" Spike asked.
"Um, the term is lesbian. And...yes."
"Always thought she and Blair..."
"Yeah. I mean... no! I mean... God, you're a perv."
She laughed a little, and so did he, and it almost felt normal. Almost.
After awhile, she asked him if he was scared. Because she was scared, she realized. Horribly, wretchedly terrified, in such an insidious and all-encompassing way, she hadn't even realized the depth of it until she began to relax.
"Nothing to be scared of anymore, pet," he told her. "Judgment Day's come and gone already. Took all the pure ones up to heaven, and left us sinners to rot here in hell."
She didn't like that theory one bit. It was true that she was a sinner- she knew that- but she didn't believe in final judgment. It wasn't the way things worked. It wasn't right.
"I don't think that's true," she said. "I mean, look, we're here in this giant corporation, right? I'm sure there had to be some sinners here. Especially in the big offices. Wouldn't they still be hanging around?"
He snorted. "Probably have a point there, Red."
She smiled to herself, grateful to have come up with a reason for disagreeing with the theory other than the fact that it freaked her out.
"So where's the Great Pouf?" Spike asked, after the second Facts of Life episode had ended and Willow had eaten her way through three Power Bars.
"You shouldn't call him that," she admonished. "He's taking care of us."
"Maybe some of us don't want to be taken care of."
She wasn't sure if it was pride or defeatism tainting Spike's attitude. Or maybe it was just general hatred of Angel on principle. In any case, she realized it was time to wake him up and excused herself with a firm request that Spike stay exactly where he was if he wasn't coming with her.
"Don't worry, love," he said. "TV's the only thing worth looking at in this dump."
When she got back to the lobby, she sat on the floor next to the couch and waited another few minutes to wake him. He looked so calm and oblivious in his sleep, so far away from all their troubles. She felt bad about disrupting him, bringing him back to the gruesome reality of their situation. But eventually it came back to her- the urgency of his demand that she not let him sleep longer than two hours- and she poked his shoulder tentatively.
Obviously he was a light sleeper, because his eyes popped open right away.
"Where's Spike? Did you find him?" he asked. Already on the ball. She wondered if he would ever seem as lost and confused as she felt.
"Yeah, he's watching TV."
"He found a TV? God, why am I not surprised?"
He swung his legs over the side of the sofa and sat up, rubbing his face.
"How are you?" he asked her. "You look better."
"Yeah, I cleaned up a little. And I found some food."
"You should try to get some rest, too. You can sleep here till it's time to leave. S'pretty comfortable."
Time to leave. She didn't like the sound of that. Sure, it was creepy, but it was warm. It was shelter. There was food, and light, and a bathroom, and a television. It wasn't the stupid, stinky woods anymore. If they had to go back to the woods she thought she'd die for sure. She hadn't realized they were under some sort of time restriction here.
"When are we leaving? I thought maybe we'd stay."
He shook his head gravely. "Can't stay. Too dangerous. We've gotta keep moving."
"But, moving where? I mean, where is there to go anyway?"
Angel stared at her for a really long time. So long that she started to wonder if he was completely zoned out, or dead, but then she realized that he was just thinking.
"Willow," he said, eventually. "Does all of this feel somehow...wrong, to you?"
For the first time she wondered if maybe it wasn't entirely wise to put all her faith in Angel. If it took him this long to figure out that much...
"Well, yeah, of course it's wrong. I mean, duh."
"No, I mean, obviously it's wrong, but what I mean is...do you ever feel like maybe it's...not real or..."
"I can't remember a lot of stuff." It was a relief to finally say that. She hadn't realized until that moment just how much it had been bothering her.
"Yeah! See, I can't either, and I think...maybe what's happening here is not what we originally thought. Maybe this is some kind of a um, a mistake or...a dimensional warp or...I don't know what, but I don't think it's anything as simple as the end of the world."
She felt a tiny seed of hope beginning to grow, listening to him. It made her nervous, having hope. But if it was a mistake, if it wasn't entirely real, or entirely what they thought, maybe there was a way to fix it all. Maybe there was a way to make it better again.
They needed a plan. If they had a plan, things would make sense.
"Well, so, okay, say it is something else. Why are you so intent on moving in this particular direction? Shouldn't we maybe try to go back to Sunnydale or..."
"No. No, that's the only thing I'm sure of- that we're headed in the right direction. It's just a feeling, but it's the strongest feeling I've ever had. It's like a...like something's pulling on me, leading me this way."
She nodded. "Guess that's sort of...plan-y."
"It's all we've got."
He stood up and held out his hand, which she took. He helped her up off the floor and led her to the couch.
"Try and get some rest, Willow."
"Angel, wait. We're not going back to the woods again, are we?"
He smiled kindly, and shook his head. "Not if I can help it. Gonna try to find another car."
This was enough of a relief that, shortly after Angel left the lobby, she was able to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.
She woke to the sound of a growl, and a set of yellow eyes looking down at her. A set of yellow eyes that didn't belong to Angel, or to Spike.