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: 3~


The early morning sky was just beginning to lighten when Buffy let herself into the kitchen through the back door. The house was quiet; she guessed that Tara and Dawn must still be asleep.

As she made her way past the living room and toward the stairs, a faint flickering of light caught her eye. She experienced a moment of panic when she wondered if Tara had left candles burning in the living room. After everything they'd survived, falling prey to a fire hazard was not on Buffy's list of things to do.

Buffy halted abruptly when she saw the four Ptersian spheres on the coffee table, twinkling softly like jars filled with fireflies. Tara was slumped on the couch, fast asleep with one of her magic reference guides open in her lap.

Moving closer, Buffy nudged the sleeping witch and said, "Tara...Tara, wake up."

Tara's eyelids blinked open and she inhaled deeply. Raising her head up from the sofa, she focused on Buffy and murmured, "Oh...you're back. I must have dozed off. W-What time is it?"

Buffy glanced at her watch. "Just after 5:00. Dozing off is understandable. Busy night. I kinda did it myself."

"So it was quiet? With Willow, I mean -- no trouble?" Tara's eyes widened hopefully.

"I wouldn't say trouble, exactly," Buffy sighed, her brow furrowing slightly. She dropped to the couch beside Tara and explained, "Willow came to for a second or two. From what Spike said, she looked around and screamed -- I missed everything except the screaming part. When I left, she was...not good. It's almost like she's in shock."

At the pained expression that crossed Tara's face, Buffy added, "I'm sure she'll be *fine*, Tara -- we just have to get her through this."

Tara nodded and whispered, "I hope so."

Buffy grasped her hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Then, glancing at the Ptersian spheres, she asked, "So, are these sealed up nice and tight?"

An odd expression crossed Tara's face; her mouth twisted slightly and she nibbled at the corner of her bottom lip. Buffy could almost see her brain searching for words.

"The seal is solid," Tara began, reaching out to pick up one of the spheres. "In fact...it's more than solid. Watch."

Without warning, Tara hurled the glowing, crystalline orb at the wall. Buffy drew in a sharp breath and cried, "Tara, NO!"

To Buffy's astonishment, the seemingly fragile sphere bounced harmlessly off the wall and rolled to a stop in the middle of the floor. Her heart still racing, Buffy moved from the couch to retrieve the sphere. She stared at it, fascinated, as the flickering light danced across her skin.

"Wow," Buffy observed at last. "I guess Willow's power is pretty much locked up."

"Well..." Tara countered slowly as she averted her gaze nervously.

"What?" Buffy demanded. Instantly, her body tensed.

"We didn't do that," Tara explained, gesturing toward the sphere in Buffy's hand. "Casting a spell to capture someone's magic doesn't usually make Ptersian spheres less fragile. It should have shattered. Something else is shielding them."

"Shielding? As in...magic shielding?" Buffy deduced, her heart sinking. "Do you think Willow is doing this?"

"It doesn't feel like Willow," Tara replied. At Buffy's arched eyebrows, she blushed and stammered, "I-I can recognize Willow's s-signature on a s-spell -- well, usually. This doesn't feel familiar. But I've been reading the Archer Compendium, and I think I've found something."

As Tara paged through the tome in her lap, Buffy joined her on the couch. Buffy set the sphere back on the coffee table with the other three and squinted at the ornate script.

"Latin?" Buffy guessed.

"Old English," Tara corrected with an awkward smile. "I'm a bit rusty, but Freshman Lit 101 is coming in handy -- you know, Chaucer."

Buffy offered a half-hearted smile in return. "One of Santa's reindeer, right?"

"Uh...well..." Tara began, then simply moved on. "From what I can tell, it says here that when magic is harnessed in the spheres, they should just glow steadily -- no flickering. When I tried to find out what could cause the flickering, all it said was something about Ptersian spheres acting as parameters for trans-dimensional activity."

Buffy clenched her jaw at the mention of trans-dimensional activity, as a vision of Willow's hands, glowing above Dawn's painfully blistered forehead, surfaced from her memory. Her gaze locked with Tara's, and she asked soberly, "Do you think Willow somehow used these to escape?"

"I don't know. This is a little out of my league," Tara admitted.

For a moment, Buffy shut her eyes tightly, wishing that just once, something would go the way they expected it to. When she opened her eyes, she stared absently across the room and said, "I wish Giles were here."

"I still can't believe the Council wouldn't tell you how to reach him when you called about Willow," Tara agreed. "We could have used someone with a Watcher's knowledge."

Buffy's eyes widened apprehensively. A slight wrinkle formed above the bridge of her nose. She turned toward Tara, then to the phone, then back to Tara. The blond witch regarded her quizzically.

Buffy stood and crossed toward the phone. It was a call she was reluctant to make for a number of reasons. But at this point, she felt she had no choice.

Maybe she'd get the answering machine. If she were lucky...

The early morning hours were the best.

Cordelia, Gunn and Wesley wouldn't arrive until much later in the day, and Fred had yet to emerge from her room. The world was asleep. That left the spacious, silent hotel to the meanderings of its vampire proprietor.

Or, as it was these days, to a new father who had yet to tire of pacing the lobby with his tiny son cradled in his arms.

With a slow, easy pace, Angel wandered past the grand staircase and the weapons case, back toward the office and the main entrance, then slowly crossed to lower himself down onto one of the plush lounges. Connor slept undisturbed, breathing evenly and occasionally gurgling on a bubble of drool. Angel continued to gaze at him, grinning raptly at the gentle whisper of the babe's breath across his skin and the insistent beat of his heart.

Angel could listen to that heartbeat for hours. Could, and had.

Dumbly, Angel shook his head. What miracle had created this tiny, beautiful, living being out of a demon like him?

His quiet adoration was interrupted by the ringing of the office phone. Angel winced, hoping he could retreat to his suite before the noise disturbed Connor. The machine could pick it up.

As Angel was about to exit the lobby, the answering machine beeped and began recording the caller's message. The dark vampire froze in place when he heard the voice on the machine.

"Hi...it's Buffy. I know I haven't called...but, we could use some help. It's complicated -- heavy research stuff, and we don't know how to reach Giles. Um...if you could have Wesley call me--"

"Buffy?" Angel broke in as he picked up the phone.

"Angel?" she whispered hesitantly. "I- I'm sorry, I hope I didn't wake you."

"Vampire hours," Angel assured her gently, squeezing his hand nervously around the receiver while holding Connor in the crook of his arm. Despite the way they had parted after their first -- and last -- meeting since her resurrection, just hearing Buffy's voice made Angel's heart sing and ache all at once. "What can I do for you?"

"We need to know everything there is to know about how Ptersian spheres work," Buffy explained quickly. Beneath her businesslike tone, Angel detected a slight tremor of nervousness.

"Ptersian spheres?"

"Yeah, we had to...there's been some trouble. With Willow."

"Willow?" Angel's repeated, taken aback.

Buffy sighed. "It's a long story. A few months ago, she got mixed up with some pretty dark magic. Some guy named Rack turned her onto it--"

"I've heard of Rack," Angel interrupted grimly. "He *is* trouble. How did Willow get involved with someone like him?"

"Amy, a witch she knows. Her first stint with him left her out of control. She hurt Dawn, but swore that was the end of it. But she couldn't stop. And the more she went back--"

"The darker she became," Angel finished, having heard of similar cases before. Concerned, he asked, "Is Dawn okay?"

"She's healing. A few weeks ago, Willow went on a power binge...she tried to tap into Dawn like..."

There was silence on the line for a moment. Finally, Angel prompted, "Buffy?"

When she spoke, Angel could hear the barely controlled rage in her voice. "Willow tried to tap into Dawn like Glory would have -- she *used* her to open a trans-dimensional portal. Dawn has...scars. They'll probably be permanent. And those are just the ones on the outside."

Angel was dumbstruck. Buffy's revelation left him shocked; scarcely a year earlier, Willow had marshaled her power to protect Dawn from the hell god. He had no idea how Buffy was able to manage; she'd had so little time to adjust to her resurrection. Now this.

"Buffy, I'm so sorry," Angel murmured hoarsely.

"We're dealing. But that's why I called. We tried to contain Willow's power in a set of Ptersian spheres, but something went wrong. Do you think Wesley could do some research for us?"

"I'll get him on it right away," Angel promised. "Is Willow still a threat?"

"Not that we can tell so far. She reminds me of how you were when you came back from hell. We've got her chained up at Spike's crypt," Buffy explained.

"You're still working with Spike?" Angel growled, his mood darkening. His entire body went rigid, with the unfortunate effect that he tightened his arm around Connor a little too forcefully. Angel's son stirred irritably and began to cry.

"Um...well, he knows a little about dark magic...and he's uh...good in a fight," Buffy stammered awkwardly. After a pause, she asked, "Angel, what's that noise? Is everything okay?"

It was Angel's turn to stammer awkwardly. "It's...uh...everything's okay here, Buffy...ah...Wesley just walked in. I'll fill him in and have him call you back."

"O-okay, great. Thanks for everything, Angel," Buffy replied.

"Any time," he assured her, before they disconnected.

As he replaced the telephone receiver in its cradle, Angel closed his eyes and his shoulders sagged. Then he turned his attention to Connor, rocking him slightly and murmuring soothing endearments. Angel sighed. Guilt gnawed at his insides -- he hated hiding the truth from Buffy. He just hoped he could find the right way to tell her about Connor.

Buffy leaned against the wall, staring down at the phone. She exhaled slowly, releasing the tension that had gripped her at Angel's reaction to the mere mention of Spike. Oh, God. Not good...so not good. She hated hiding the truth from Angel. She just hoped she could find the right way to tell him about Spike.




Next Chapter