Title: Sweet Hereafter
Author: Eve
Email: alfa_fighter_3@hotmail.com
Pairing: W/A/S
Rating: NC-17 overall
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy own all characters from BtVS and A:tS, the rest are mine.
Author's Notes: In my world, there was no Tara, no Glory, and Angel has been in love with Willow since she brought him back from Hell
Feedback: Writers need feedback like mere mortals need air. :-P
Summary: Fifteen years after the opening of the Hellmouth, Willow, Spike, and Angel meet again

Chapter 18


The click-clacking of the keyboard could be heard in the hall. It echoed throughout the corridor, bouncing off the worn floor, the long row of doors, and fading away to silence.

She hated this place at night. It looked sterile and uninhabitable, the dim lights still managing to glare off the white surfaces. It was like in one of those horror movies where the supporting actress was lost and looking for her friends, foolishly calling out "Is anyone there?" and drawing the attention of the vicious axe murderer. And then he begins to chase her, and all the doors are locked except one, so she locks it behind her, but when she turns around he's right there, and chops her into little bits while she screams and screams . . .

The gooseflesh raised on Penelope's arms as she realized that the clacking had stopped, and all she could hear was her own shallow breathing. Way to psych yourself out, Pen. And for my next number, I'll run screaming from the building.

She nearly did just that as the deadbolt at her elbow disengaged, ringing out like a gunshot in the silence. Or at the least, a really big bb gun. Heart pounding, she whipped her head to the side to see Seth staring out at her from the crack in the doorway. The fear on her face must have been obvious, because he opened the door further while backing away and whispered, "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."

After a beat, she shook herself and followed him inside. She didn't bother to argue with him, or try to come up with an excuse. She didn't have to play the Watcher or the tough girl around Seth. She could be herself: flaw, foibles, fears of quiet buildings, and all. He wouldn't tell anyone. Sometimes she wondered if he was actually aware of everything that went on around him. Then again, she hadn't told him she was coming, and her bare feet hadn't made a sound in the hallway. Yet, he'd known she was there. Maybe he was a little too aware.

Seth immediately went to his computer and resumed typing. Penelope settled herself on the end of his tiny bed and watched his fingers flying over the keys. Sometimes when she showed up, he would be researching demons, or mysterious disappearances, or the latest government conspiracy theory. Other times he would just sit and stare at the screen, unblinking. This time he was writing something, filling up the screen faster than her eyes could follow.

She remembered how hard they'd fought to get Seth his computer. Like giving a lockpick to a thief, the judge said, or a gun to a robber. As if Seth had ever intentionally hurt anyone in his life. And then they had to convince the staff of the halfway house that he wasn't going to electrocute himself, or hang himself with the mouse cord, or any of the other ludicrous ideas they had come up with. And the people they looked after were supposed to be the sick ones?

She was perfectly content to sit and lose herself in thought. Seth would work until he could no longer keep his eyes open, and then she would tuck him into bed, wrapping her arms around him to keep him safe from the demons. Outside the window and inside his head. So many issues had come to light with the sudden appearance of Willow and Spike. Things in the past, things that were yet to come. For a brief second she wished she'd never come to work for Angel, had never came to the States, had never joined the Watcher's Council. What would life be like then? She wouldn't have to run through the streets in her bare feet, wouldn't have to face death fighting monsters and demons. Wouldn't even have to know they existed. Then the oath came back to her, generations of suppressed anger flooding her tiny body, determination to bring honor to her family overriding everything else.

"Angry."

It was so quiet that she wasn't sure she heard it. Still, she was alarmed by Seth's sudden telepathic abilities. "What?"

"He's angry." He didn't turn from the computer.

Good. He wasn't talking about her.

"Well, he was angry. N-now he's not. But everyone else is. Angry, I-I-I mean. Like his anger dissipated into the air, and-and . . . infected everyone." He stopped typing. "Well, not really infected. Because anger isn't infectious, not like the flu. You can get really sick from the flu. At least, that's what the nurses tell me, but I won't let them stick me with that needle. Don't want them to hurt me." He swiveled the chair to look at her. "Don't let them put anything in me. They'll make me crazy."

Penelope smiled warmly, amused by the twists his thoughts took. "No one's going to hurt you Seth."

One day your probation will be up, and I'll get you out of this loony bin, into a real apartment, with all the computers you would ever want, and no one's going to make you do anything ever again. Then his initial words hit her.

"What do you mean, everyone's angry?"

He just shrugged and turned back to the computer, mumbling to himself. When he didn't answer her, she stood and went to stand behind him, wincing at the coldness of the floor. The screen was full of 0's and 1's in no apparent order. None that she could see, anyway. It looked like . . .

"Seth? What are you writing?"

He flinched as she touched his shoulder, causing her to pull away. What on earth was Seth writing binary code for?




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