Warp & Weft

By Medea

Chapter Eight

Soft footsteps padded across the floor. Somewhere between waking and sleeping, Spike sensed the approach of his other Mate.

About bloody time.

Angel lay slumbering deeply beside him. Both of them had been edgy after torturing that worthless sod and had tackled each other voraciously after abandoning him to the streets.

To Spike's immense satisfaction, he'd worn Angel out.

The mattress shifted slightly beneath Willow's weight.

Groggily, the blond vampire mumbled, "Howsa wolf?"

"Fine...happy...he's made a good life for himself," Willow's voice murmured soothingly in his ear as she settled in beside him. "How did you and Angel do tonight?"

Eyes still closed, a dreamy grin spread across Spike's face. "Lef'm 'pletely knackered."

A hand swatted him on the side. "That's not what I meant, silly. Did you get anything useful out of that goon?"

Growling in drowsy annoyance, Spike seized hold of Willow and draped her across himself like a blanket. "Sleep now. Talk later."

Willow returned his growl with one of her own, but resigned herself to her Mate's mood. Placing a soft kiss on his lips, she gave herself over to peaceful repose.

As she was slipping away, Spike tightened his arms around her and whispered, "Love you."

*****

Angel's dreams, however, were less than peaceful.

They weren't the ordeals that the nightmares of his time spent in hell had been. He felt nothing even remotely approaching the level of terror that had stalked him in his sleep for those first few years after his return. The reassuring presence of his Mates enveloped him in a web of comfort and safety.

But the images he saw were disturbing.

As before, Buffy glided toward him, her expression loving.

Remembering his previous dream, Angel's first impulse was to back away. Still, Buffy approached. For some reason, her steady pace triggered the urge to flee, and Angel found himself running. He raced ahead, frantically trying to make his sluggish limbs move faster, not truly understanding why he ran, but nonetheless feeling a desperate need to escape.

Suddenly, something jerked his ankle and he was falling. Angel looked down to see Buffy gripping his heel. Yet there was no menace in her expression, only love.

In his dream, Angel trembled.

Buffy's hand slowly transformed into a thick, green vine, its tendrils curling ever tighter around his ankle. Then, to his horror, a tendril pierced his skin and burrowed underneath. He felt a sharp sting in his palm and turned to see Willow there, with vines snaking from her and weaving themselves into his body. There was another sting on his shoulder. Angel glanced to the other side and found more vines stitching through him and binding him tightly to Spike.

As Angel twitched helplessly within the network of vines, he experienced one of those odd moments in dreams where he was able to will himself to calm down. He had nothing to fear from his ties to his Mates.

Slowly, the bizarre dream-images began to fade. Angel watched as Buffy whispered away into the shadows of his mind, but as she vanished, he heard soft, parting words:

"...with you always..."

When Angel awoke, he found that he was clinging to Willow, with Spike wrapped around his back. Sleepily, Willow rubbed her thumb against his hip and murmured, "We're here, Angel...it's okay..."

"Gossleep," Spike seconded, slurring his words.

Reassured by their simple words and tender caresses, Angel snuggled closer to his Mates and allowed himself to drift off.

*****

Subject: Don't lose hope
Date: 8 June 2034
From: Rupert Giles <gilesr@preservation.society.co.uk>
To: Willow Rosenberg <redwillow@aurora.net>

My dear Willow,

Am I happy with the world as it is? Well, I would say that there is room for improvement, and that I can only hope that, in my own, small way, I am contributing to its betterment.

Do I wish that things had turned out differently? I suppose that depends. Are you asking if I wish that Buffy hadn't prevented the Master from rising or stopped Angelus from unleashing Acathla on the world? Or that Glory had succeeded in sacrificing Dawn and breaking down the walls between dimensions?

You see, Willow, despite its flaws, there are many reasons I am grateful to be living in the world we have now.

I can only imagine how difficult your situation right now. I wish I could be there to help you, but at present, my responsibilities with the Council prevent me from leaving. However, my friend, know that I am there with you in spirit, now and always.

Yes, Willow, there is good in this world, and you are part of it.

Yours,

Giles

*****

In the dimly lit office, Willow sat before her computer, blinking the dampness from her lashes. Smiling with trembling lips, she reached out and rested her fingertips against the screen.

The steady rhythm of a heartbeat out in the Hyperion's lobby alerted Willow to the presence of a visitor. Quickly brushing away any stray tears with the back of her hand, Willow logged out of her e-mail account and rose to meet her guest.

It was someone she'd guessed she might be seeing.

"Cyrene," Willow greeted her with a smile.

"Hello, sister," the tall, dark-haired Wiccan answered warmly.

They drew together and kissed each other lightly on the cheeks.

"Can we talk?" Cyrene asked. She smiled knowingly at Willow and added, "I have a feeling you've been expecting me."

"Either you, Tara, or Hannah," Willow agreed. She gestured toward the courtyard. "Let's sit outside. Angel and Spike are still asleep."

They strolled arm-in-arm out through the cloister to sit on the stone ledge surrounding the fountain. The early night air was still thick with the last traces of the day's heat, but it felt slightly cooler near the water.

"Lorne told me you met Sarah and Alison," Cyrene began.

"I take it you're the Good Samaritan?" Willow surmised.

Her friend nodded. "Do you understand why?"

Willow drew her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms tightly around them, and sighed heavily. "Yes. It's not easy to accept. Even *I* was tempted to work a simple healing spell on Sarah. But there's a balance to everything, and if I'd given into the temptation, her misfortune might have magnified and landed on someone else."

"And then again, it might not have. It's never easy to predict," Cyrene agreed. "Which is why we have to take such care with our spells."

They shared a moment of reflective silence, listening to the fountain's soft trickle. Then, Willow said, "Thanks for steering them away from the worst of the underground dens. You have no idea how bad they can be."

Cyrene shook her head and corrected, "Unfortunately, I do." At Willow's horrified stare, she explained, "Will almost got mixed up with one of them."

It was as if a knife had stabbed Willow in the gut. She choked. It sickened her to think of Hannah's good-natured daughter in such a vile place. What the creatures in such a club would have done to someone with her innocence...

Patiently, with the kind of relief that only a parent whose children had survived adolescence could master, Cyrene explained, "Will has always known about vampires, about you. She'd seen the marks on our necks, and she knew that Hannah, Tara, and I had let you feed from us. Three years ago, when she was fifteen, she got curious." Sighing, Cyrene shook her head. "Rather than come to any of us, though, she thought it would be exciting to learn more about the dens she'd discovered existed, ones where vampires and humans could pay for all kinds of...privileges..."

"Please tell me you stopped her!" Willow begged, her voice cracking.

Cyrene chuckled, her eyes dancing with mirth. "Angel stopped her. Cordelia had a vision. And can I just say, I have *never* seen Angel act like such a *father*! You should have heard him lecture her."

Willow's distress was swiftly replaced by an irrepressible need to giggle at the image of Angel giving Will a sermon about the dangers of his own kind, like any father warning his daughter about what lecherous beasts men could be. She wondered if he'd even waggled his finger.

She was about to ask, when her senses tingled at the approach of familiar vampires: Andrew Murdoch and Nadia.

"Cyrene, as much as I wish we could stay here a little longer..." Willow began.

"Business?" Cyrene asked. Willow nodded. The sturdy, mature Wiccan rose gracefully and concluded, "I should be going, then. If you don't mind, I'd appreciate it if you didn't discuss the arrangement with Lorne in front of Zoe. She does know about it, but it's one of a number of things that can set her off if she's reminded of it too often."

"I understand," Willow agreed. She was about to bid her coven sister farewell when an idea occurred to her. Taking both of Cyrene's hands in hers, she said, "Cyrene, we've called a meeting of the clans to discuss the black market. I just thought of a way you could help us, if you'd be willing..."

*****

As arranged, Cyrene ushered the leaders of L.A.'s larger clans into the council chamber. Angel was gratified to see her unharmed and sense her steady, even heartbeat. A good sign that the vampires gathered were abiding by the restrictions he and his Mates had imposed, and hadn't even verbally threatened her.

Although Angel was pretty certain that these vamps would have been in for an unpleasant surprise if they'd tried to bully such an accomplished witch.

The city's vampire elite took their seats in the circle and looked to Angel, still operating according to traditional protocols, assuming that he, as the senior vampire of his clan, would command the gathering. Angel grinned slyly and rested his elbow on the arm of his chair, adopting a cool, disinterested posture worthy of Angelus.

He smirked at the momentary uncertainty among the assembled host when it was Willow who addressed them first.

"A human organization has recently been brought to our attention," she declared evenly. "One that preys upon its own kind. As you already know, this organization has grown disruptive enough to our interests that we have chosen to destroy its operations within our domain."

A slender, deceptively mild-looking vampire whom Angel recognized as Seung-Hae Kim inclined his head respectfully and inquired, "Mistress, it is true that there has been a minor disruption to hunting in some districts. Nonetheless, if the humans wish to prey upon each other, of what concern is it to us?"

"Never underestimate the power of fear," Spike remarked.

The blond vampire stared intently at Kim until the latter blinked once, slowly, in deference. Spike nodded curtly, then narrowed his eyes and addressed the entire assembly. "It's like fire: starts small, spreads quickly. Right now, there are only a few districts where mortals are afraid to go out at night. We don't snuff this, and soon it'll be the entire city, just like the bloody Middle Ages, when no pious soul cared to venture into the dark. Only there's a lot more of us now than then, right? Think the vamp population could survive if our prey went back to bein' as skittish as they were a few centuries ago?"

Murmurs of agreement circulated through the chamber. Another vampire, Daniel Njenga, whose mane-like dreadlocks cascaded over his shoulders, arched an eyebrow and observed, "I, for one, have no qualms about destroying this organization, especially if I'm free to use any and all means to exterminate them."

"Oh, we'll be using any and all means," Angel assured him. Adopting a sinister sneer, the dark vampire studiously examined his fingernails, then returned Njenga's gaze with a stare that was cold, calculating, and deadly. Slowly, Njenga and the other clan leaders began to smile. "We'll use methods you haven't even imagined."

"Including working with a network of humans and werewolves who have already allied their forces against this organization," Willow added. With an encouraging smile, she nodded toward her coven sister, who had been standing by the entryway.

This elicited a few sullen scowls.

Cyrene advanced to stand beside Willow and explained, "For a few years now, many of us have been teaching people to resist--"

Before Cyrene could proceed any further, however, a pug-nosed vampire from Burbank, Harlan Densmore, growled with obvious distaste "A human speaking in the company of vampires." Narrowing his eyes at her, he added with undisguised menace, "It wouldn't be so bold with its speech if its throat were crushed."

No sooner had the cruel taunt fallen from his lips than Densmore's eyes widened in panic and he clutched at his neck. He gurgled helplessly and spasmed as invisible hands tightened around his throat. With a final, agonized shudder, he coughed up blood, then slumped, unconscious, in his seat.

Angel's gaze was drawn to the walls, where each of the faroe stones glowed with silvery gray light. So perhaps there were a few vampires who chafed at the protection he and his Mates had extended over their mortal friends; but Willow's counter-measures had worked perfectly, and provided a valuable lesson.

"It's really not a good idea to wish harm on others present in this circle," Willow advised, looking down at the foolish Densmore with a wholly unimpressed smirk. "This space has been designed as a vortex for natural magic. Whatever you wish on someone within the chamber will return to you threefold."

A few of the vampires sitting to Densmore's right and left cast him contemptuous looks.

Assured that there would be no further interruptions, Angel, Willow, Spike, and Cyrene outlined the plans for their campaign against the black market. Low, sinister chuckles ran through the assembled host when Willow enjoined them to discover and expose any connections between legitimate businesses and the shady, nocturnal activities of the black market that so alarmed the public. The chuckles erupted into laughter at Andrew Murdoch's timely comment about turning human greed against the mortals. Then, when Cyrene proceeded to describe the network of activists who had been struggling on isolated fronts to undermine different segments of this pervasive, illicit system, something unexpected -- and to Angel, extremely hopeful -- occurred.

Angel watched, immensely encouraged, as the grudging tolerance the other vampires had shown toward the token human in the room shifted toward muted but genuine respect. A few even asked her questions with a courtesy that bordered on what was normally reserved for equals: namely, other vampires.

As the plan took shape, it was clear that all of the clan leaders were warming to the idea of a city-wide collaboration -- even with humans. They were vampires, and thus not averse to a carnival of violence. But they were also shrewd, not merely ruled by their bloodlust, and as such had come to recognize where their interests lay.

"So, who will form the initial search parties?" Seung-Hae Kim asked at one point.

"Teams of vampires and werewolves," Spike replied. "Wolves for speed, vamps for fighting in case it gets nasty. Both to track the scent of blood. We've got a few addresses, but it's a safe bet the organization will shut them down after the first few we hit."

"That's it? Just the scent of blood," Daniel Njenga asked, leaning forward and steepling his fingers.

"Blood where it might not be expected," Willow clarified. "A shoe store after hours, for example. Especially if the scent of death is strong."

"So what happens when we find one of these back-room stockyards?" another vampire demanded, a slight edge of defiance to his voice. "You're asking some of us who have fallen on lean times to follow the scent of blood."

With practiced skill, Angel masked his grim shift in mood at the turn in conversation. He, Spike, and Willow had anticipated this and knew they would have to make certain concessions. He also had faith that, ultimately, what they were about to condone would serve the greater good.

It didn't mean he had to like it.

"All we need are the details: location, facilities, how many goons they've got. Names, if you can get 'em," Spike answered bluntly. "You help us map out their organization. Any of their lot you do in the process? Bonus."

Mercenary, ruthless grins flashed around the circle.

A blonde, blue-eyed female vampire who had cynically adopted the name Barbie asked, "So, their people are fair game. If we catch them with a live prisoner, then what?"

Angel felt his insides twist even further, blossoming into a cold ache that weighed him down like chains. Yet outwardly, he maintained his mask of indifference.

"If the sorry sod they've got is still alive, go after the black market team first," Spike said with a shrug. "Then, all's fair in the hunt."

Barbie smiled, obviously pleased, amid a chorus of approving murmurs.

With most of the business concluded, Angel rose to his feet and prepared to dismiss the assembled host. There was no doubt in his mind that the clans would cooperate. Certainly, they had excellent incentive. But he wanted to impress upon them the magnitude of this endeavor. This was no mere license to wreak havoc.

"We're going to hit them hard," Angel began, walking to the center of the circle. Willow and Spike joined him, and together, the three faced outward. "They've grown comfortable with their power. We'll remind them just how mortal and vulnerable they are. By the time we're finished, no one will dare work for them; their clients will shun them like the plague; and all of them will be looking to tear out each other's throats. But only if we do this with finesse, and that means, you follow our lead."

The clan leaders rose and growled their enthusiastic assent. As one, they lifted their chins: a gesture which unschooled humans might interpret as arrogance, but which was universally recognized among vampires as a sign of deference through the exposure of one's most vulnerable flesh.

"Cyrene?" Willow turned toward her dark-haired coven sister. "Would you mind--?" she added with a sweeping gesture toward the other vampires.

"Sure, Willow," Cyrene agreed. Without so much as a skip of her heartbeat, the mature Wicca faced them and said, "If you will..."

Silently, they followed her out of the council chamber, leaving Angel alone with his Mates. When he no longer sensed the clan leaders, Angel released a mournful sigh and closed his eyes. Instantly, he felt Willow wrap her arms around him and press her cheek against his chest, while Spike draped an arm around his shoulders.

"Well done, Angel," Spike assured him in a soft, soothing baritone.

With a half-hearted shrug, Angel murmured, "Thanks."

"I know it tears at your soul," Willow whispered, lacing her fingers through his and lifting his hand to her lips. After a brief, heartfelt kiss on his palm, she continued, "Mine aches, too. But we'll do everything we can to minimize the number of innocents who get hurt in the cross-fire."

"I know," Angel acknowledged, resting his chin on her head. "I've just seen too many massacres in my time."

"Then leave the fun stuff to us," Spike suggested with a playful nip on Angel's neck.

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