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: 18~


In the hotel room that served as her new home, Willow rested on her knees, eyes closed, and let Angel's soothing voice guide her in her inner journey.

"Focus on your breathing, Willow...Breathe in...and out...let the air fill you...feel it rise and fall like the tide...evenly...there is only your breath...rest your mind on your breath...the breath is your mind..."

It had been a week since her trip to the emergency room and Angel's own, vampire-style "intervention", which had finally forced Willow to confront her fears and work through them rather than hide from them. From that moment on, Angel had steadfastly assisted her in meditations that helped sharpen her mental acuity and enhanced her ability to navigate the worlds compressed inside her head.

She did wonder how a vampire knew so much about meditation routines that involved breathing.

Willow had asked Angel about that once, and he'd grinned at the apparent absurdity of the idea, but explained that it was merely one method among many he'd learned. According to Angel, meditation helped him channel his energy and control the demon. He might not have any breath to focus, but he could concentrate on a candle's flame.

Under Angel's patient guidance, Willow concentrated on deep, regular breathing and followed the velvet timbre of his voice as it led her down a fluid, shimmering tunnel of memories. As if emerging from a dark cave, her mind's eye suddenly opened onto warm sunlight and green, cloud-bedecked mountains.

There was a momentary disorientation as she adjusted to being "inside" the Guardian, Poydras. Willow still found it kind of...weird. She was completely within his sinews, his stride; she could feel the cool, fresh air on her face; yet Poydras, and everything else about his world, was in her mind.

Willow quickly took stock of her surroundings. It was a rocky path that ran along a steep cliff. Garat had taken Poydras along this path every year on the way to the annual gathering of Guardians. Remembering these journeys well from her first pass through this dimension, Willow knew that old Garat had used their long, solitary traverse of the mountains to lecture Poydras about his sacred calling and the challenges he would face in protecting his people from the Trackers. A rush of adrenaline flooded her and she listened intently, hoping to pick up the thread of Garat's words before he suspected that his student's mind was wandering.

"--or just you and three other apprentices," Garat intoned as he trudged forward, leaning on his gnarled walking stick. "How would you answer, if those were your choices?"

Willow groaned in the deep recesses of Poydras's mind. Since her first attempt to tamper with the worlds in her head, she'd learned that her presence had a far different effect when she was trying to alter events than when she was merely observing. Her arrival was more disruptive of her host's perceptions -- in this case, she couldn't count on Poydras to answer for her. For better or for worse, she was in control of his mind.

And she had no clue what Garat had just been saying.

"Er...the three?" she stammered in Poydras's gruff, masculine voice.

Garat paused and narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

"Safety in numbers?" To Willow's chagrin, her reply came out as barely a squeak. Just great. Poydras was officially in for a scolding. And Garat was worse than Giles.

"Safety in--?" Garat choked indignantly. The quills on his chin twitched beneath a stern frown, and Willow knew she was in for it, big time. "What does that have to do with deciphering runes? Hmph! So, an old man like me is worth less to you than three knuckleheaded youths where magic is concerned? You would rather have them by your side during the magic trials at the gathering?"

Willow had no doubt that Poydras's green skin was rapidly deepening to a mottled blue, signaling his embarrassment. "No, no, I meant--"

"If you are that confident in your abilities, then how would you approach this rune, hmm?" With a deft flourish of his hand, the dwarfish Master murmured a brief incantation and an intricate, spiral rune appeared on the path before them.

Warily, Willow crouched down within the Guardian's body to peer at the rune through his eyes. However, no sooner had she done so than the rune ignited and expelled a puff of smoke. Poydras barely had the chance to blink before he vanished and rematerialized in mid-air, just over the edge of the cliff. Yelping in alarm, he managed to catch hold of a rocky ledge as he fell.

To Willow's amazement, Garat's spell sent her flying back through her consciousness into her own surroundings in L.A. The sound of his boisterous, hearty laughter was abruptly replaced by Angel's cry of astonishment. In a heartbeat, Willow discovered her predicament, and her cry joined Angel's.

Somehow, Willow had been teleported from her meditative position in the center of her room and hung suspended outside her window. Just as she felt gravity tugging her downward, she scrambled for purchase on the windowsill. Behind the closed window and heavy drapes, the panicked redhead could hear Angel calling out to her in confusion.

"I'm out here!" Willow shouted, gripping tightly onto the ledge and scraping her shoes against the Hyperion's exterior wall.

Instantly, the drapes were swept aside and Willow caught a brief glimpse of Angel's astonished face before he recoiled from the sunlight. She cursed the mid-afternoon sun which burned down on her rapidly tiring shoulders. A moment later, Angel managed to raise the window, albeit with a few colorful phrases Willow hadn't ever heard him use before.

"Hang on, Willow," Angel urged through clenched teeth.

"Definitely good with the hanging," Willow agreed shakily. "But--uh, getting tired pretty quick here. Thinkin' floor under feet would be a good idea really soon."

Angel reached out and grabbed hold of her upper arms. He began to pull her up, gritting his teeth as his skin smoked. However, when his arms caught fire he growled in pain, released her, and ducked back inside.

As he smothered the flames, Angel hollered for assistance. "Gunn! Wesley! Buffy! We need some help up here!!"

Willow's arms began to tremble, but she grit her teeth and hung on. After a few moments, she heard a jumble of voices and to her great relief was soon being hoisted to safety by Gunn and Buffy. As they pulled her through the window, she saw Wesley examining the damage to Angel's arms.

"What happened?!" Buffy demanded, her cheeks flushed and her eyes wide with concern.

It took a second or two for Willow to catch her breath. Gunn eased her over to the desk chair and helped her sit. Buffy moved from Willow's side to crouch down next to Angel and gently examine his burned arms. He tensed slightly, but seemed to welcome her concern.

Shakily, Willow gasped, "Garat...someone from one...of...the other dimensions...conjured... a...rune...teleported me..."

"Hold on -- you mean one of the people in your head zapped you out the window?" Gunn asked incredulously. He exchanged a doubtful look with Wesley. "How's that supposed to work?"

"Well, it isn't," Wesley conceded with a frown. "That shouldn't happen, although in theory, it is possible that events that transpire during Ms. Rosenberg's journeys into her mind could somehow channel her own magic and produce effects on this end."

"What?!?" Willow squeaked. The implications were too staggering to comprehend. How was she supposed to fix these worlds if any small change might rebound on her in this dimension? She slumped against the back of the chair, floored by this unexpected twist. Furrowing her brow in helpless disbelief, Willow protested, "I thought this was supposed to be a one-way deal. Are you saying that when I change something in one of the other dimensions, it could have consequences in this one?"

Wesley grimaced apologetically, folded one arm across his chest and rested his chin on the knuckles of his other hand. "I guess more research is in order."

"I'll go let the others know," Buffy volunteered. She rose from her place beside Angel.

Willow glanced at her and was grateful when she saw the sympathetic expression on her friend's face. The young witch knew that Buffy was still somewhat uncomfortable with their situation. For one thing, Buffy refused to allow Dawn near Willow unsupervised, and even then the Slayer kept watch like a prison warden. Still, though, Buffy had been nothing but supportive since Willow's return from the emergency room, and had made it clear that what she wanted most was to have her old friend back.

Gratefully, Willow flashed her a smile. "Thanks, Buffy."

"Sure." Buffy smiled back, and left Willow to grapple with the daunting challenge that confronted her.

This was getting way too complicated.

A familiar sight greeted Buffy when she poked her head in the office just off the lobby. Lorne sat in one of the cushy, upholstered armchairs, bouncing Connor gently on his knee and crooning soft, melodious nonsense. Either that, or maybe a lullaby in his native, demon language. Connor grinned up at Lorne's jade green face, wide-eyed, apparently enchanted by the smooth, subtle tones. Without warning, Connor's grin became a wide, warbling cavern of glee as he let out a laughing shriek, responding to some unknown message or insight only comprehensible to infants.

Buffy smiled. She may have been getting anxious recently about her prolonged absence from the Hellmouth, which left Sunnydale's residents unprotected, but part of her was deeply grateful that scenes like this had become a regular part of her day. Completely unaware of the troubles that surrounded him, Angel's son embodied all that was normal, serene, and hopeful. He was the one, tiny grain of normalcy that Fate had seen fit to allow any of them.

On the other hand, the discussion between Cordy and Fred, who were crowded together behind Cordy's desk, focusing intently on the computer monitor, was a reminder of how twisted "normal" business was for this motley group.

"And Gunn is sure he can trust his source?" Cordy asked, frowning as she clicked the mouse, then typed with a rattle of manicured nails against keyboard.

Fred nodded, screwing her nose to the side in an effort to nudge her glasses upward. "Not only that, but he's heard the rumor on the street a couple of times, so it's a pretty safe bet there's some truth to it."

"Truth to what?" Buffy asked as she approached the desk. She sat down on the smooth wood surface and craned her neck for a better view of the screen. "What rumor?"

Without looking up from her work, Cordy explained, "Oh, just a smooth-talking psycho who has apparently been holding a majorly powerful vampire prisoner for the past week and slowly starving it."

Buffy frowned. "Creepy. Any idea who'd be suicidal enough to keep a starving vamp under wraps?"

Still bouncing Connor, Lorne glanced up and volunteered, "I know who gets my vote for Most Dangerously and Single-mindedly Obsessed this year."

In unison, Cordy and Fred chimed, "Holtz."

Buffy folded her arms across her chest and lowered her gaze thoughtfully. Angel's gang had filled her in about the self-appointed vampire hunter from Angel's past, whose sole ambition seemed to be Angel's complete and utter destruction. The office was silent save for Cordy's rapid typing and Lorne's cooing, allowing Buffy to evaluate the situation. It was possible that Holtz was doing a trial run of tortures he planned to inflict on Angel. However, it was more likely that he intended to set the vamp loose on Angel when it was so insane with hunger that it would be uncontrollable. Or, it could be something too depraved for Buffy to imagine yet.

"Does Angel know?" Buffy asked at last, her voice hoarse with concern.

Cordy's eyes never left the computer screen as she sighed impatiently, "Uh huh. Gunn broke the news yesterday. That's why Wesley has me searching through *two* *freaking* *months'* worth of reports logged by the Watchers of any notable vampire activity in North America. Angel was planning to check around with his contacts this evening when he was done coaching Willow for the day."

"That reminds me," said Buffy, her expression sobering even further. "Something happened while Willow was tinkering with one of the worlds crammed in her head. Somehow, someone cast a spell in the other world and it affected her here. Wesley said it meant back to the research."

Fred gaped back at her. A second later, the petite physicist sprang from her seat, crossed behind Buffy, and began pacing agitatedly from one end of the office to the other. Gesturing absently with her hand, Fred babbled, "Oh my! This isn't good at all. I mean, it's not end-of-the-world bad, on account of those worlds already ended, but this will make it a *lot* harder to fix things. At least ten to the sixteenth more complicated...or...I'm not sure by what factor this increases the variables--"

The clatter of keystrokes stopped.

"Fred," Cordy cut in, diverting her gaze from the computer screen to stare patiently at the jittery brunette. "Why don't you go check in with Wesley, see what he thinks?"

With an embarrassed smile, Fred stammered, "Oh...right...I'll just...I'll go...oh, gosh!"

Buffy shook her head slightly behind Fred's retreating form. Her own stomach was in knots, as if Fred's nervous energy had left behind a residual trace. Turning back to Cordy, Buffy asked, "Why didn't anyone tell me. I mean, I know I'm out of the loop on a lot of the details, but I could still help out. Might as well not take a total vacation from the Slayerly duties."

Once again, Cordy's hands stilled over the keyboard. The Seer fixed Buffy with a cool, pointed stare that instantly reminded Buffy of the catty, aloof cheerleader from high school. "You probably could. And when Angel decides he needs your help, he'll ask for it. But he hasn't, has he? You know, he does have his *own* friends who are happy to look out for him." Arching a slender eyebrow in disdain, Cordy concluded, "He's uncomfortable enough having you and your fangless vamp-toy around as it is. Don't expect him to turn to you for everything the way he used to. You're not in Sunnydale any more."

Buffy's cheeks burned as if Cordy had slapped her. The edge of the desk creaked in protest as she gripped it so tightly that her nails dug into the wood. Even the pain of splinters gouging into her fingertips did little to take the edge off the shock.

"Uh, Cordelia? Sweetheart?" Lorne urged warily. "Now may not be the time to re-open old wounds. I've got a pretty happy little man over here, and I'd like to keep him that way."

Before Cordy could reply, Buffy seethed bitterly, "How dare you?!" Shaking, Buffy fought to contain her rage, lest she do serious, bodily harm. Too angry to see straight, Buffy choked again, "How dare you?!"

Livid, Buffy stalked out of the office. She had wanted to scream at Cordelia, but the brunette Seer's words had struck at the heart of Buffy's own insecurities about being an outsider in Angel's world -- both because of her involvement with Spike, and because he had a new circle of trusted confidantes. Worst of all, Buffy had been poised to ask Cordy who she thought she was, but the cold truth had stopped her. Once upon a time, Buffy may have been his heart's desire, but Angel now shared an equally profound, albeit different, connection with Cordy, who served as his liaison to the Powers That Be. Cordy may not have replaced her as the love of Angel's life, but neither was she the same, inconsequential girl from high school, a mere bystander who knew the dark vampire only through Buffy.

Feeling a lump rise in her throat, Buffy headed toward the basement where she knew Spike was teaching Dawn the basics of self-defense. Buffy desperately needed to wrap herself in the solace of her own loved ones.




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