Title: Judgment
Author: Medea
Email: medealives@hotmail.com
Pairing: Willow/Angel friendship, Buffy/Spike
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Willow's joyride in 'Wrecked' was only the beginning of her downward spiral.
Spoilers: Through BtVS "Smashed" and "Wrecked"; and AtS "Lullaby"
Archive: Please do.
Disclaimer: Joss created. I am not Joss. Therefore, not mine, never will be. Pity, that.
Note: A response to Kendra A's challenge to "fix" Wrecked, although I don't really feel that the ep needed fixing. There's nothing wrong with taking a character through the moral gray zone. I kinda thought it gave Willow some interesting nuances.
Note 2: This is not part of the Masters and Minions universe -- Willow is human. For Willow/Angel fans -- it comes later in the story, but it *will* come.
Feedback: Much appreciated: medealives@hotmail.com

~Part: 1~


"Xander, stay back," Buffy warned.

"She's not moving," Xander countered.

Exhausted from the fierce confrontation, which had toppled headstones, uprooted trees and scorched the ground in one of Sunnydale's many cemeteries, the Slayer and her allies peered warily at their foe. Although she lay crumpled, her body quivering involuntarily and covered in sweat, the Scooby Gang remained tensed for battle.

The sprawled figure gave no signs of life other than sporadic, violent tremors and shallow panting. Around her, four crystal orbs shone steadily with captured power. At the peak of the battle, a blinding light had flashed and momentarily night had turned to day. The light was so brilliant that, instinctively, Spike had cringed and shielded himself with his duster. When the light receded, the beleaguered fighters had discovered their opponent, prone and unresponsive, amid the softly flickering globes.

"Could be bluffing to lure us in," Spike pointed out.

Buffy, Spike, Xander, Anya and Tara stared down at their once-formidable opponent. It was true -- her apparent helplessness could be just an act. Tara had feared that her own, modest abilities with magic would be inadequate to restrain their opponent long enough for the others to act. However, despite her doubts, Tara cautiously opened herself to the residual energy fields crackling in the air. What she detected gave her the first glimmer of hope she'd felt in weeks.

"Something's different," Tara murmured. "I don't...I can't feel--"

"The darkness...it's gone..." Spike broke in as his demon's attunement to dark forces sensed what Tara had.

The five exchanged hesitant looks. Finally, Buffy advanced, clutching the charmed sceptre that had shielded her from magical attack. After several measured paces, she crouched down and poked experimentally at the prone form.

"Willow?" Buffy asked. When there was no reply, Buffy nudged her again and repeated a bit louder, "Willow?"

Still receiving no response, Buffy brushed Willow's hair away from her face and peered into fixed, unblinking eyes.

Spike moved forward. After a moment, he prodded Willow with the toe of his boot.

"Oi, witch!" he barked in a voice sharp enough to make Anya and Tara jump. Willow gave no indication that she'd heard him. He turned to Buffy and observed, "Looks like she's down for the count. Now what?"

In a small voice, Tara stammered, "I-is she...is sh-she...?"

"She's not dead," Spike answered bluntly.

"What's wrong with her?" Xander murmured, frowning. He, Anya and Tara drew up on either side of Buffy and Spike and stared down at Willow.

"I don't know," Buffy replied quietly, her eyes riveted to her fallen friend...opponent...she no longer knew how to think of Willow. Even now, after Willow had delved so deeply into dark magic that she'd threatened their safety; even after Willow had nearly destroyed the integrity of their dimension and unleashed the forces of the Hellmouth, Buffy still couldn't bring herself to use the word "enemy" where Willow was concerned.

Willow had been her friend -- her best friend.

Buffy was still mad as hell at her friend.

But Willow wasn't her enemy. She was a friend who had made some majorly bad choices and gotten herself in over her head with dark magic.

An image of Dawn, screaming in agony as Willow siphoned power from her, made Buffy clench her jaw in quiet rage. Yeah, she was still mad as hell.

"Can't leave her here, but no telling what'll happen if you move her," Spike advised.

"We're not taking her to my house. I don't want her near Dawn," Buffy stated firmly.

"And the Magic Box is definitely out," Xander added. "That would be mixage of the spark-and-gasoline variety."

"That's pretty much the problem with my place," Tara admitted, looking sadly down at her estranged lover. "Ever since the first time we had to...to face Willow, my apartment has kind of become a magic supply warehouse."

"Right. We'll take her to the crypt, then," Spike decided. He crouched down and gathered Willow into his arms, although none too carefully. Willow's neck twisted awkwardly; unsupported, her head lolled like dead weight.

"Spike, please be careful...we still don't know if she's okay," Tara pleaded.

Spike shot her a mildly exasperated look, but shifted his arms so that Willow's head rested against his chest.

Buffy positioned herself close to Spike, her sceptre raised to the ready as she asked, "We good to go? The orbs?"

Anya, Xander and Tara carefully gathered up the glowing orbs, making certain not to bring any of them too near the others.

"Got 'em," Anya piped up.

Vampire and Slayer took the lead, setting off in the direction of the crypt with Xander, Tara and Anya following behind. The night was still and void of sound, its habitual denizens having fled or quieted themselves in fear over the battle that had raged scarcely half an hour before.

"She looks so empty," Xander whispered.

"Well, we did drain her power out into the Ptersian Spheres. That's bound to leave anyone a little limp," Anya whispered back.

"Are we sure it was just the magic?" Xander pressed anxiously. "I mean, we didn't...this isn't *all* of her in here, is it?" He gestured slightly with one of the orbs in his hands.

Tara shook her head. "Ptersian Spheres aren't like Orbs of Thessulah. They can hold magic, but not a soul."

Despite her attempt to reassure Xander, Tara's eyes betrayed her own uncertainty. Willow's addiction to dark magic had changed her over the past few months, made her more volatile -- even cruel at times. Yet Tara hadn't given up hope that somewhere inside, the woman she loved still survived. Silently, she hoped and prayed that they hadn't permanently damaged Willow in their desperate attempt to disarm her.

Tara's bottom lip quivered, and she felt moisture pool in her eyes.

She missed Willow. *Her* Willow.

Spike's crypt wasn't far from where the battle had been fought, and after another few minutes Buffy barged through the door. Spike followed on her heels and carried Willow to a shadowed corner, where a set of cobwebbed chains dangled from the wall. Setting Willow down on the cold stone floor, he propped her against the wall and secured both wrists with the chains.

The pain was etched into Tara's face as she watched Spike shackle Willow's unresisting form. Xander turned away, his shoulders tense. Only the fragile Ptersian Spheres in his hands prevented him from lashing out at the fact that it had come to this.

It had gotten so bad, they were chaining up Willow, his best friend since kindergarten.

Xander's knuckles whitened as his fists clenched tightly around the orbs. He took a deep breath and forced himself to relax his grip, reminding himself that it would be a *bad* thing if he broke one of them.

"How can we be sure chains will hold her?" Anya demanded skeptically. "What if we didn't contain all her power?"

"That's why the witch here is going to set a protection spell," Spike drawled, cocking his head at Tara as he gave the chains a good tug to make sure they were secure.

"P-protection? Oh...yes, I probably should," Tara agreed hesitantly. She wiped at her eyes and released a shaky sigh. "I'll need a medium. Ashes, sage, salt -- whatever's handy."

"Hang on. Got some salt down below," said Spike as he moved toward the entrance to the cavern beneath the crypt.

"You keep salt on hand?" Xander asked, surprised.

"Sure. Keeps the zombies out," Spike answered matter-of-factly.

Xander's eyebrows rose. Then he closed his eyes and shook his head. "Never mind, I don't wanna know."

"What?" Spike demanded indignantly. "You ever *smelled* a zombie? Don't want one stumbling in here not-so-fresh out of the grave. As if your place isn't littered with roach motels."

"Just...get the salt," Xander muttered.

Spike descended to his underground quarters and returned a few moments later with a box of Morton's kosher salt.

"You really ought to use pure sea salt for protection spells," Anya observed. "We sell it at the Magic Box."

Spike narrowed his eyes at her and retorted, "You overcharge. This'll do."

He handed the salt to Tara, who sprinkled it in a thin arc before Willow and murmured an incantation to restrict Willow, physically and magically, to the small space between the wall and the salt barrier.

"I don't overcharge," Anya sulked to no one in particular. "It's overhead -- all merchants have overhead."

Tara finished the spell and handed the salt back to Spike, who merely set it on the ground. The group looked at each other awkwardly.

"So...now we do...what?" Xander wondered.

"You go home," said Buffy, breaking out of the pained silence she had maintained since their arrival in the crypt. "There's nothing more to do here, for the time being at least."

"What about you?" Xander's voice softened with concern, and he fixed his gaze pointedly on her.

"I should stay for a while, keep watch -- just in case," Buffy replied, her demeanor still that of the disciplined commander. Turning to Tara, she asked, "Would you stay with Dawn tonight? Tell her we're all okay, but I wanted to keep an eye on Willow until we know everything worked."

Tara nodded. "I'll examine the spheres to make sure they're fully contained." Biting her lip, Tara glanced at Willow and asked in a faltering whisper, "Would you...call me if she..?"

For a moment, compassion gave life to Buffy's eyes, which had previously revealed only blank stoicism. She moved toward Tara and placed a reassuring hand on her arm.

"As soon as Willow snaps out of it, I'll give you a call," Buffy promised.

Tara attempted to smile and nod, but now that the adrenaline rush of the battle had worn off, she couldn't stop her lips from trembling. Buffy hugged her in sympathy, and that was all it took. Tears leaked from Tara's eyes as she sobbed quietly on Buffy's shoulder. Still holding two orbs, Xander approached to offer his support, resting one hand lightly on Tara's back and murmuring soft assurances.

"It'll be okay...sshh, Tara, sshh...We'll get her back."

After several moments during which they all succumbed to the aftershock of their ordeal, Tara regained her composure and, with a final squeeze of thanks to Buffy, accompanied Xander and Anya out of the crypt.

Buffy stared blankly at Willow, exhausted and saddened by everything her friend had put them through. It had been worse than facing Glory.

In Glory's case, Buffy had devoted all her energies to taking down an evil Hell-bitch. No problem there -- aside from the dying part. But emotionally, it had been simple.

Each time Buffy had fought Willow, it had eaten away a small piece of her heart.

"You okay?" Spike asked quietly, moving to stand between her and Willow.

Buffy blinked at him and shrugged. "Yeah...yeah, it's just been hard."

"You must be tired," he agreed. Cocking his head toward Willow, he added, "I can look after her. No need for you to stay."

Buffy shook her head, her shoulders tensing slightly. "No...no, I need to be here for a while. I just need...to be someplace quiet...to let it all sink in..."

Spike regarded her steadily. Slowly, he reached out, cupped her cheek in his palm and lightly stroked his thumb across her skin, still flushed from battle. Buffy stared at him for a moment, then closed her eyes and leaned into his caress. She brought her hand up to cover his. Spike let it rest there for a moment, then drew it toward his lips and kissed her palm.

Still holding her hand, he tugged her gently toward the wall near Willow, eased himself down to the floor and urged her to sit beside him.

"Quiet in here," Spike observed with a soft laugh. "Quiet as a tomb."

A sad smile tugged briefly at the corners of Buffy's mouth, before her face once again resolved into a mask of strained introspection. Spike wrapped his arms about her and brushed his hands along her sides.

Buffy stared at Willow's blank expression, deceptively lifeless. It scared her.

What was going on behind those vacant, green eyes?




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