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: 7~


Sharp, heavy footfalls sounded through the lobby as Spike descended the staircase with purposeful strides. His leather boots slapped out a curt, determined tempo against the floor as he approached Angel and Buffy. Coolly, Spike appraised them. Angel bristled and squared his shoulders, his poise inviting combat. Buffy, on the other hand, wrapped her arms around herself and dropped her gaze.

Spike knew that stance too well.

Since her resurrection, he'd seen Buffy close herself off from the world enough to recognize her urge to flee -- from everything, from everyone, it was all pretty much the same. Once, she'd confided in him that the mere act of making it through each day was a struggle for her. The whole mess with Red hadn't helped matters, either. And now, she radiated quiet anguish -- and Spike was damned sure he knew why.

That did it.

He'd come down to confront the Noble White Knight about his dirty little secret. Now he wanted to stake the bastard.

Spike felt the muscles in his neck tighten.

No, he wouldn't stake the sodding Poof. It would hurt Buffy still worse, and Spike would most likely end up like his cigarettes did.

He drew to an abrupt halt before Angel, who stared coldly at him. In a tight, controlled voice, Spike asked, "Darla's?"

"Stay out of it, Spike," Angel warned.

"What, daddy wasn't planning on inviting Uncle Spike to the christening? Y'know, I'd love to see how that's going to work out," Spike sneered.

"Go to hell," Angel snarled and leaned menacingly toward the younger vampire.

"You first," Spike retorted, bringing himself nose to nose with his grand-sire.

"Stop it," Buffy interrupted quietly but firmly. She cast a stern glance at the posturing males.

It was the first close look at Buffy's eyes Spike had gotten since he'd come downstairs. They were red-rimmed, and traces of moisture clung to her soft lashes.

She hadn't been crying. Spike doubted she'd let herself. But she bloody well needed to.

With a final, challenging glare at each other, the two vampires backed down.

"So, how's Willow?" Buffy asked with a deep breath.

Ever the brave little soldier.

"The same," Spike shrugged. His eyes softened and he murmured, "How 'bout you? You okay?"

Smiling thinly, Buffy replied, "I'm fine. We should go talk with Wesley. The sooner we figure this out, the better."

Angel nodded and started toward the stairs. "We'll do everything we can. Wesley and Fred have been digging through everything they could find."

Buffy followed him. Spike walked alongside her, resting one hand ever so lightly above the small of her back. Although Spike realized that he was hovering when he felt her stiffen, he was pleasantly surprised when she didn't pull away.

Half-way up the stairs, Angel cast a quick glance over his shoulder. His eyes narrowed and his jaw clenched when he saw the small, thankful smile Buffy offered Spike. However, without a hitch in his stride the dark vampire looked away and continued up to Willow's room.

Fred was used to watching quietly from a safe distance.

She had learned it was the best way to keep the monsters from noticing her.

Even now that she was back home and had a circle of friends who made her feel safe, she still felt awkward around strangers. It was more comfortable to stay in the background and observe.

The lighting was dim and soothing, except for the swathe of soft, golden illumination that fanned out from the lamp on the desk. The room was fairly quiet now that the grouchy blond vampire had stomped off. Wesley was talking with the other two from Sunnydale, questioning them about the witch, Willow.

Fred thought she seemed kind of like a willow. The little redhead bent whichever way she was tossed -- unresisting, like the tree. It was hard to imagine her being threatening at all.

Frowning slightly, Fred gazed with wide, sympathetic eyes at the young woman curled in a fetal position on the bed. Occasionally, Willow whimpered and whined, and Fred saw her leg twitch briefly. But otherwise, Willow seemed completely immersed in her own world.

At one point, when Willow gasped sharply, her friend from Sunnydale -- the blond woman -- broke off her discussion with Wesley, sat down on the bed, and stroked Willow's hair reassuringly. Soon Willow's troubled breathing calmed and the expression on her face relaxed.

With a shy grin, Fred observed, "She likes that."

Smiling sadly, the woman glanced at Fred and murmured, "I just wish we knew what was wrong."

Another whimper drew their attention back to Willow. Fred started in mild surprise when Willow's eyes slowly fluttered open and cautiously roamed over her surroundings.

Fred heard the sleepy-eyed woman draw in a sharp breath. For that matter, Fred's own breath was caught in her throat as Willow hesitantly raised herself to a crouched position and blinked at her friend.

At that moment, Angel, Buffy, and the rude, bad-tempered vampire walked into the room.

"Wesley--" Angel began.

His sentence died and the three of them halted sharply, their expressions mirroring Fred's anticipation.

Willow's initial disorientation seemed to be fading. A faint glimmer of recognition appeared in her eyes.

"Tara?"

Tears quivered at the rim of Tara's eyes before spilling over and running down her cheeks. "Willow?"

Her bottom lip trembling, Willow repeated, "Tara?" After a long pause, a frightened, pained expression crossed her face and she whimpered, "I got so lost."

A sharp sob broke from Tara's throat as she tentatively reached out and drew Willow into her arms. Hugging her tightly, Tara whispered, "We found you."




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