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Author's Chapter Notes:
According to Webster's Ninth collegiate dictionary, a cat's paw is something used by another as a tool. In other words, a dupe.
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Drusilla was no fool. She knew what the fates had in mind for her. She'd seen it, and she was not afraid. What had to be, had to be, and there was no hiding from it. Hiding only made the fates chase you down. Hiding only made them angry. She knew that, too, her Daddy was an example. He had been running from his fate for over a hundred years, and now, he was tired, and the fates were catching up with him, no matter how hard he ran.

She was only trying to be a good mother, and help her child get rid of the sickness that he had inside of him; a sickness he didn't know he had. The sickness made William blind to how weak it made him. Drusilla knew that she, and Miss Edith, could save him, even if the fates caught up with her soon after, some day, William would know she was right.

Miss Edith reminded her that she was neglecting her guest; it had been so long since she hosted a proper tea, she was a little out of practice, as to what was expected. She turned toward her guest, "It has been so long since I have had the chance to entertain visitors," she said wistfully, "The last gentleman caller that graced my parlor, was my William," her guest nodded, empathetically, "and he was so patient with me, that I could have had the most appalling manners, and he would not have said a word," Drusilla wrung her hands with worry, " Am I doing it right? It's been so long, sometimes I forget things."

Holland's voice was pleasant, "Oh, don't worry, Drusilla," he said as he sipped his cup of Earl Grey, politely, "the tea is just fine. And, I'm sure a lady, such as yourself, never forgets how to be a lady."
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Dawn and Willow sat together, enjoying the way the light, coming into the sanctuary as people, carefully, came and went, chased the shadows, making beautiful lace patterns of light on the wall.

Dawn silently thanked whoever was watching after her, because the small shadow play on the wall, brought her the words she needed, "He's kind of like that. You know what I mean, Willow? Spike's both light and dark, at the same time. Taken separately, they both can hurt, but if they're mixed together, in the right way, they can be something wonderful. I don't understand how Angel can claim that the bad things that he did, weren't his responsibility. Spike's not a different person now; he's the same Spike he's always been. He's just Spike, with a soul; in fact, he wouldn't have that soul, if he hadn't realized that it was he who tried to do that awful thing to Buffy that night, and tried to make it right, somehow. Spike knew he was the only one who'd done it. How does Angel get off saying that the things he did weren't his fault? Angel and Angelus aren't two separate people, so why does he get a free pass?"

Willow took a deep breath before she jumped into that mess. For such a small girl, Dawn thought some pretty big thoughts. Maybe it was a side effect of being an eternal Key, "I don't know, Dawn," Willow said, wondering how to put this into words that didn't sound self-serving, "maybe making the things he did separate in his mind, made them easier to deal with," she held Dawn closer, "I know that, if I could I would pawn off what I did as dark-eyed Willow on someone else," she looked down, and whispered the rest, "but I can't. It was me, and I know that," Willow's voice got stronger, " I think Angel's been running from what he did, for a long time," she shook her head, in commiseration with Dawn's confusion, "But, no one can run forever. Sooner or later, it all will catch up with him," her mind went over the events of the past few months, "Maybe it's already started," she said.
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Spike had said that if he wasn't careful, he'd get swallowed. And now, here he was, in the belly of a monster that was using him to do something horrible to the only family he had left, with no idea how to get out, or even if it was possible to escape. He had, indeed, been swallowed, and it had happened so slowly that he hadn't even noticed until it was too late.

He shook his head again, pacing by the curtained window, "Cordy, there's no way out of this," he said, grimly, "If I help, Spike could die. If I don't help, Buffy could die, and Spike could die. And, if he doesn't, he'll probably wish he had, and then he'll kill me. This is just like that cube puzzle with the different colors on each side, that you're supposed to mix up, and then put back together again. It's all so intertwined and mixed up that there's no way to put it back the way it was; no way to solve it," Angel sank back into his chair, exhausted and frazzled.

"Take it easy, Angel," Cordy said, trying to help him see that, maybe, there was a way for things to be all right. She didn't really see it, but that wasn't why Angel had brought her here. She was here to help him, and she was going to try, because that is what he needed right now. The Powers were counting on her to help Angel see the pinpoint of light in the dark fog that blocked his vision, "Maybe you're not the key here, Angel," she was saying, "Maybe Spike is the one we should be watching here."

Angel was flummoxed, "Cordy," he said, "right now, Spike couldn't even swat a fly. Just how is he going to fight?"

"You're right," Cordy nodded, "as of now, physically, Spike is weak. But, he's getting stronger the longer Drusilla's here. And, if it comes down to a battle of wits, with Dru, no offense, Angel, but Spike's the one I'd put my money on, not you," she smiled, as something just occurred to her, "Angel," she asked, "just who was it that you signed your life away to?"

"The Circle of Black Thorn," Angel answered.

She nodded, seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, "And, how many members are there left?"
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