Oil & Blood

By Medea

Chapter Two

For several weeks, Willow did what she could to return to a normal existence. She and Giles exchanged frequent e-mail, from which she gathered that he was suffering from the same restlessness she was. He informed her that Hellmouth activity had changed little, despite the absence of a Slayer. Willow was unable to contain her laughter when Giles reported that he and Xander had taken up patrolling. Apparently, their most creative -- if unintended -- coup yet had been vanquishing a demon with a moldy loaf of rye bread. No matter how many times she read Giles's explanation of the details, she couldn't believe it -- nor could she read straight through without collapsing in a fit of giggles.

Willow was pleased that Giles had found a way to feel needed again.

However, Willow was growing more and more worried about where she stood with Angel. He had been making himself scarce around the Hyperion, spending more time at the other offices of Angel Investigations with Cordelia, Wesley and Gunn. Naturally, there were always valid reasons for him to be there; but those reasons had never kept him away from his vampire companions for so long.

Willow was lucky if she caught a quick glimpse of his black trench coat as he strode away from the hotel to work on another case.

It was frustrating. Just at a time when she ached to talk with her mentor and confidant, when she needed something to put her back up against as she dealt with Buffy's loss, and with changes in herself, Angel chose to elude her.

Spike, on the other hand, was very willing to keep Willow occupied.

Indeed, as news of their exploits in London slowly began to filter through the local vampire community, the blond vampire relished every opportunity to soak up the admiration and envy of his peers. It was like revisiting his glory days with Angelus and Drusilla, when they'd made themselves legends. Chance acquaintances looked upon him with a respect that bordered on deference, or tried to enhance their own reputation by picking a fight. Whatever the case, Spike absolutely loved it. He dusted the upstarts with glee, and basked in the homage he received from the others.

Willow's standing was likewise improved. No longer regarded with curiosity, amusement, or even contempt, she was now accorded full master status by other masters and minions alike. Masters of other lairs considered that forging an association with her could actually be beneficial.

If anything, it distracted her from brooding about Angel.

One evening, she received a call from Andrew Murdoch, the vampire entrepreneur who had profited so handsomely from tee-shirt sales during Willow's period of experimentation with different feeding methods.

"How are you with truth spells?" he asked after a cordial greeting.

"You mean something like in that old Jim Carrey movie, 'Liar, Liar'?" Willow clarified.

"Along those lines, yes," Murdoch confirmed.

"Piece of cake," Willow replied. "I take it you need one?"

"How perceptive of you, my dear. Could I interest you in a business proposition?"

"Oh, no -- a Wiccan can't cast for profit. But if you tell me what's involved, I might be persuaded to do it as a favor."

"If you insist. I would prefer not to discuss it over the phone, as the matter is somewhat sensitive. Would you be willing to come to my downtown offices?"

"Sure, just tell me when."

"I'll do better than that. I'll send my car. Say, one hour?"

"I'll be waiting."

Spike insisted on accompanying her. Despite Willow's enhanced prowess, he hovered protectively over her as if she were still a vulnerable minion.

That, and his jealous streak had been provoked with the increased attention that Willow was getting because of her role in the scourge of the Council. He didn't care for the looks that some of the masters gave her. Didn't like them one bit.

At Murdoch's top-floor, executive office he offered them seats before an expansive, mahogany desk and proceeded directly to business.

"For about two months, someone in my company has been making suspicious transactions, but they've covered their tracks exceptionally well. So far, I haven't been able to identify the culprit or culprits, but I have reason to believe that someone fairly high up is embezzling."

"If you're asking me to cast a truth spell on *all* your senior employees, I think I should let you know it would tax even my abilities," Willow cautioned.

"Just what is your business?" Spike inquired.

"Fashion photography and models," Murdoch replied smoothly.

Spike's laughter barked forth. "A vamp making money off of photographic images."

Murdoch smirked and gave his visitors a conspiratorial wink. "I prefer to think of myself as...a rancher. I keep the herd docile. We manufacture images of beauty so impossible for anyone to attain that, in their pathetic vanity, humans waste their energy chasing after a mirage, instead of developing any *useful* skills that might cause problems for us."

"Do you have any way to narrow the pool of suspects?" Willow pressed him.

Murdoch raised an eyebrow and flashed her a half-smile. "I take it you're interested, then?"

Willow shrugged. "It's a challenge."

"My right-hand man has been investigating the Vice President of Finance. He's told me of certain suspicions, but in spite of his best efforts, hasn't come up with anything concrete yet. He's been analyzing computer records, but as I said, whoever the embezzler is, he's covered his tracks very well."

"Mind if I look at the files myself? I might be able to find something he missed," Willow proposed. At Murdoch's surprised look, she added, "I was a pretty good hacker before I was made, and I've kept up with it."

"Be my guest," Murdoch rose from his throne-like leather chair and gestured for Willow and Spike to follow him out of his office. Two doors down the hall was the office belonging to his right-hand man -- Marshall Wilkes, his first childe, Murdoch explained, whom he had made nearly thirty years earlier.

Willow set herself up at his computer, and once Murdoch had given her the password to log on, she set to work.

Her host entertained Spike by asking for a first-hand account of the assault on the Watchers Council, which the blond vampire was happy to provide. Murdoch grinned in admiration at the severity of the torture, and avidly pressed for more details about the final confrontation in St. Paul's.

"Wish you could've been there?" Spike asked knowingly.

Murdoch chuckled. "I wish I could have sold tickets. Do you know how much your average vampire would have been willing to pay to see that?"

"Why the hell didn't I think of that?" Spike mused.

They continued talking for close to an hour before Willow interrupted with a grim discovery.

"I think you should take a look at these decrypted files. But you may not like what you see."

Willow watched as Murdoch read what she had discovered. As she had anticipated, his eyes darkened ominously and his entire body went rigid. Although protected by a highly-sophisticated encryption, and camouflaged among ordinary system files, Willow had managed to open records of what appeared to be deductions from employee salaries and equivalent deposits into an account in the name of Marshall Wilkes.

Murdoch's first childe and second-in-command.

Although Willow found it hard to believe that Wilkes would leave such incriminating evidence on a computer to which his sire had access, she had learned enough about sire-childe relations to guess that Wilkes had counted on his sire's trust. Or at least his sire's presumption that his childe feared him enough not to risk betrayal.

Then again, maybe he was just a typically over-confident vamp. Not all of her kind were particularly smart.

"This could have been planted, expressly to cast suspicion on him," Murdoch stated coolly.

Willow nodded diplomatically. "It's possible."

"Where is he right now?" Spike asked.

"Going after a lead. A manager who quit about a month ago. Marshall said she'd been in communication with the VP of Finance, and suggested that he paid her off to leave and keep quiet about something. My childe planned to torture the truth out of her tonight."

"Maybe you'd better be there to hear what she has to say," Willow suggested delicately.

*****

According to the records they found in Wilkes's office, the manager in question was Nadia Drakulic, a woman of forty-five who had supervised photo shoots until her abrupt departure about a month earlier. Because Wilkes had tracked Ms. Drakulic's whereabouts, Murdoch, Willow and Spike had little difficulty finding the modest house where she lived in Redlands. As they approached the front door, all three detected the unmistakable odor of blood.

Willow knocked on the door and announced loudly, "Ms. Drakulic, this is the police. Your neighbors have reported sounds of a disturbance at this address. May we speak with you?"

Sure enough, Ms. Drakulic's beleaguered voice called out from inside, "Help me! There's an intruder in my home!"

Although it was implicit, the invitation was still enough to get them through the door. The three vampires entered quickly and, following the terrified woman's rapid heartbeat, found her backed into a corner in her bedroom. She was fending off Wilkes with a wooden chair, not unlike a circus trainer against a lion.

It was clear that Wilkes had already recognized the presence of his sire. His stance was tensed, but no longer poised to attack. Indeed, he seemed less the predator than the prey, wary of being stalked.

Willow deduced that the petite photographer must have held him at bay for at least two hours, given how long she and Spike had been with Murdoch that evening. She was puzzled as to why the woman was still relatively undamaged. Except for a gash on her upper arm, Ms. Drakulic seemed to have no injuries. Willow could only conclude that something had held Wilkes back. A middle-aged woman wielding a chair, even one who seemed quite lean and wiry for her age, was no match for a master vampire.

"Oh, God," Ms. Drakulic breathed, realizing the newcomers were obviously not the police. She set her jaw, and an expression of fatal resignation settled across her face. Willow scrutinized her more closely. She was attractive. Her dark, spiky-short hair was indeed flecked with gray, but the net effect was an almost exotic, salt-and-pepper texture rather than the appearance of aging.

"God will be of no greater help to you than that chair," Murdoch retorted smoothly.

"Maybe not. But this chair took out two of you bastards, and I plan to take at least one more of you down with me."

Murdoch arched his eyebrow and remarked to his childe, "Marshall, it appears that you've had an eventful evening."

Maintaining a smooth veneer of detachment, Wilkes replied, "She accidentally staked two minions I brought with me. The idiots practically fell on the chair legs. She still probably doesn't understand what she did."

His cool, dismissive remark was undermined slightly by an ugly scrape on his jaw, which Willow guessed had been inflicted by Ms. Drakulic.

"I do *now*," the woman fired back.

Wilkes snarled at her defiance, and moved to strike her. A brief gesture from his sire held him back, as Murdoch advised, "Temper, Marshall...temper. Unless you've already learned everything you need to know from her?"

Willow marveled at the layers of inflection in his voice, and wondered if it was a skill acquired in time by all master vampires. She had heard Angelus use the same, subtle vocal menace, one which compelled obedience.

"I had hoped I was making progress, but we were distracted by your arrival. Was there something important that brought you here?"

"Marshall, you know how important maintaining the integrity of my organization is to me. It seems the offender has grown bolder. He -- or she -- is actually trying to incriminate you in these illicit dealings," Murdoch stated bluntly. "Were you aware that someone has left encrypted files on your computer? Files that make it appear as though you have been siphoning a percentage of employee insurance deductions into your own account?"

In the tiniest fraction of a second, Marshall Wilkes betrayed himself.

It was too fleeting for all but the most perceptive observer to notice, yet the moment's hesitation was unmistakable to a sire who knew his childe. Willow had caught nothing before Wilkes feigned shock, but she clearly read the cold fury in Murdoch's eyes. She wished she were elsewhere -- this would be ugly.

"Those must have been uploaded sometime this evening. I never--" Wilkes began, but his sire cut him off sharply.

"Silence!" Turning to Ms. Drakulic, who had witnessed the exchange with frightened confusion, Murdoch demanded, "What is it you know that he has been so desperate to learn?"

With remarkable nerve for a mortal woman cornered by four vampires, Ms. Drakulic countered, "If I held him off for over two hours, what makes you think I'll tell you?"

In a flash, Murdoch yanked the chair from her hand, dashed it to the floor and gripped the startled woman by the throat. Letting his demon face emerge, he growled, "While your determination may be admirable for a human, my dear, you live only because he allowed it. He wanted the information you had. Tell me what it was, if you wish to continue living."

At this point, Willow saw a subtle shift in Wilkes's posture. Spike noticed it as well, and took a casual step to the left, blocking the path to the door. The signal was clear: any attempt to flee would be challenged.

"He wants a diskette a friend in Accounting gave me," Ms. Drakulic choked against Murdoch's firm grip. "Some of the photographers I supervised complained about new deductions from their paychecks. My friend was trying to figure it out, but before she could tell me anything, she disappeared. A few days later, I got a Fed Ex package from her, containing a diskette with financial records dating back three months. That was when I quit."

"If you feared for your life, why are you still here? Why didn't you publicize the information? And why did you invite my childe into your home?" Murdoch pressed further.

"I didn't know what he was until it was too late," Ms. Drakulic explained, drawing upon her last reserves of courage just to keep speaking. "He threatened some of the people who used to work for me. I thought I could buy time until I could make sure they were safe. Besides, as you've already pointed out, I knew he wasn't ready to kill me. Not without the diskette."

As Willow watched the exchange, she grew increasingly impressed with the human's control over her fear. It wasn't that she had no fear -- indeed, her fear was considerable. But somehow she managed to speak calmly and stare unflinchingly into Murdoch's eyes. Even Murdoch acknowledged her strength, as he gradually released her throat and stepped back out of her personal space. Willow began to feel sympathy for her.

"She's a lying, pathetic human, Sire. It's obvious that she's part of the scam. She's probably the one who planted those files on my--" Wilkes insisted, before Murdoch cut him off again.

"How would she have gained access? She's a photographer, not a computer programmer!" Murdoch's eyes flared murderously as he confronted his childe. "Is this how you repay me, Marshall? Were you going to challenge me?"

By now it was clear to Wilkes that his sire could not be cajoled. Both Willow and Spike tensed for a fight; the situation had become dangerous. But when Wilkes made his move, he chose what he perceived as the weakest link: the human present. Ms. Drakulic stood between him and an exterior window. With vampiric swiftness he charged her, hoping to escape. Mistaking his attempt at flight for an intention to kill her, the survival instinct took over. Using the weight of her entire body, she slammed him against the wall. In a freak twist of fate, she hurled him against a wooden coat rack mounted there. The impact impaled him on one of the posts, and Wilkes burst into dust.

Willow froze, her eyes wide.

Ms. Drakulic mirrored her reaction, and Willow could hear her heart racing frantically.

No one moved.

No one spoke.

Willow observed Murdoch as he stared at the pile of dust on the floor, and then slowly raised his gaze to Ms. Drakulic. As Willow might have expected, she saw fury, pain and loss in his expression. What caught her off-guard, though, was the flash of admiration in his eyes.

When Murdoch fixed his eyes on her, Ms. Drakulic closed hers, resigned to death. A tear slipped from beneath her lids and ran down her cheek. With surprising restraint, the vampire stepped forward, brushed the tear away with his thumb, and commanded quietly, "Go. Leave while you still have a heartbeat. Don't return until morning."

The woman didn't need to be told twice. Although she looked like she almost pitied him, she offered no false professions of regret. No one would have believed she was sorry for what she had done in self-defense. Without another word, she fled her own home.

Returning his gaze to his childe's ashes, Murdoch said to Willow and Spike, "Leave me."

Spike made no reply, only held out his hand to Willow. He knew that Murdoch's grief, not simply for the loss of his childe but for the betrayal that couldn't be punished and resolved, was not for them to witness. Not if they didn't want a very ugly fight and an eternal enemy.

Willow murmured, "I'm sorry," before allowing Spike to lead her away from the devastating scene and out into the night.

They walked in silence for a while. Willow hadn't expected anything like that when she had first agreed to meet with Andrew Murdoch. It was only supposed to be a challenge, a distraction.

Something to take her mind off Angel.

"Spike?" she said at last.

"Yeah?"

"I know that you and Angel had a falling-out after he was cursed with his soul. But I thought when you betrayed him, it had to do with the soul, or with Drusilla. Is betrayal *normal* between sires and their childer?"

"Hell yeah," Spike admitted grimly. "Nothin' odd 'bout that, though. Greatest threat to a master is often his own childe."

"But the bond..."

"Bond's always there, even when you'd like to kill each other. Sire-childe relations are powerful, but they're damned well not sugar and spice. When secrets start piling up, it's a sure bet things'll go sour."

Willow absorbed this. More than ever now, she was resolved that she needed to confront Angel. There were too many secrets between them.

"There's still one thing I don't understand. Why did he let her live?" Willow asked, puzzled.

Spike smirked and gave her a sideways glance. "You're joking, right? You had to've seen it."

"Well, I saw the look he gave her," Willow admitted. "But that doesn't change the fact that she killed his childe. Wouldn't he want revenge? Or at least wouldn't he want to kill her for harming what was his?"

" 'Course 'e would," Spike agreed. He stopped walking, faced Willow squarely, and placed his hands on either side of her face. His eyes burned into hers. "But strength and power can be irresistible to a vampire. One of the first traits we seek out in a mate. Bloke's mourning his childe, all right, but that little snip impressed him. Be willing to bet she won't stay human much longer."

"Over ten years...and I can still be confused by my own kind," Willow shook her head, even as she tilted it up to meet Spike's lips with her own.

*****

The following afternoon, Willow awakened earlier than usual and slipped down the hall from her room to Angel's suite. She hadn't spent a night in the suite with Angel since their return from France. As she had hoped, he was still asleep. Willow sat down on the foot of the bed and watched him quietly. Within a few moments, he began to stir. No doubt he had sensed that he wasn't alone.

When his eyes opened and focused on her, Willow could best describe the look he gave her as one of intense longing. Almost immediately, however, a wall went up, closing off his emotions. Sitting up, he asked, "Willow--is something wrong?"

"I came here to ask you the same question," she countered softly. "You're asking if something is wrong, just because you woke to find me watching you. It didn't used to be that way. We used to wake together. I used to be welcome here."

Angel's shoulders slumped and he closed his eyes. "I'm sorry. I should have said something sooner."

"That's what I don't understand. I know it has to do with what happened in London, but I thought we *did* talk about that."

"Not London. It's about Paris," Angel confessed uncomfortably.

"Paris?" Willow echoed, her heart sinking, dragging down with it her ability to speak coherently. "Angel...if I'd had a choice...What am I saying? I did have a choice. I could have turned him into a slimy newt, or, or a three-toed sloth. I wasn't thinking. When Angelus threatened Giles...Angel, I'm so sorry--"

The dark vampire interrupted her flustered stream of babble and reassured her, "Willow, I'm not angry at you for that. If anything, I'm angry with myself."

"You? But you weren't in control of what happened."

"Not for that. For not owning up sooner. I shouldn't have let you wonder about what was bothering me for so long. I guess I didn't know how to talk to you. It would make it so...final..."

"Final?" Willow murmured as dread began to gnaw at her insides. "Do you not want me here any more?"

When Angel didn't answer immediately, Willow recoiled as if he had slapped her, and rejection constricted her throat. Angel immediately reached out and grasped her hand.

"Willow, your place is here, for as long as you want. It's just...I can't be with you any more, not like we have been. That's what I realized in Paris." Eyes heavy with regret, he paused for a moment and stroked her cheek tentatively, as though he feared she would vanish. "I love you -- body, mind and soul. I'd been trying to ignore the signs, and put off the inevitable...but it's too strong for me to avoid now."

Willow gaped at him, unprepared for that revelation.

Slowly, her brow furrowed as she took it all in. Part of her glowed, warmed by the thought that he loved her that much. Yet the greater part of her was devastated, because this meant the end to an intimacy that was such a treasured part of her existence. From now on, they would have to keep a safe, civil distance between them.

It was the prudent thing to do, the responsible thing.

And so damned unsatisfying.

The redheaded vampire extended a trembling hand and ran her fingertips lightly over her beloved mentor's lips. Angel's eyes slipped shut and his lips parted as he gave himself over to the bittersweet pleasure of her touch.

"Can you still hold me?" Willow asked uncertainly.

Angel opened his eyes and, with a gentle, sad smile, pulled her into his arms.

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