Prologue
Shrieks filled the old building, flakes of paint shaking from the peeling walls, as a roach scuttled across the floor only to be crushed under a heavy booted foot. She nodded in thanks, red hair falling for a moment in front of her tear stained face before she pushed it back. She clutched the phone to her ear, trying to block out the horrible sound that shook her to her very core, the sound of pain, the sound of lost souls, the sound of hell that echoed through the old building. More than anything she wanted to be rid of that sound, to be deaf even. Maybe that was the problem, maybe they had been deaf to her pain too long, let her slip too far.
She placed her palm flush against her other ear, attempting to block out her best friend's hollow screams. The phone rang again, impatience flooding her veins, she couldn't do this amidst this noise, this hollow endless sound; she had to escape it. She just had too. Willow walked over to the heavy door, sending a sympathetic glance back to Faith, who was scraping roach guts off of her favorite boots. Faith nodded at her in understanding as Willow pushed open one of the heavy aluminum doors and strolled out of the building. Come on! She thought, looking up and down the cracked sidewalk, bouncing nervously on the balls of her feet. Just pick up the phone already!
Halfway across the country Spike's head felt as though it were going to explode. "Aren't you gonna get that?" He shot a daggered glare at his blonde foe from across the plush office.
She rolled her eyes, finishing the pink-coated brush stroke across her long nails. "Hey, you're not the boss of me!" She pouted. "And besides, I'm on a break." She informed him, blowing on her damp nails. The phone continued its shrill persistent ringing on the large black desk that was currently littered with old issues of Vogue, and Rolling Stone, nail polish remover, nail file and used cotton balls. Before she could start her second coat of Barbie Sunset, her head was yanked roughly back as Spike grabbed a handful of her blonde hair, causing her to yelp in pain and spill the nail polish over her new blouse. "Owww!" She cried out. She batted at him with her freshly painted hand. "Look what you made me do, you big idiot!"
But Spike didn't release his grip on her bleached mane; a week trapped in an office day after day with her could put anyone over the edge. "Harm," He growled low and dangerously in her ear. "Pick up the damn phone!" He let go of her head, pushing it forward as it slammed against the desk.
Harmony whimpered, rubbing her forehead with her palm, trying to keep from inflicting any more damage on her nails. "I'm telling Angel!" She pouted as she reached for the black phone, almost knocking over the bottle of nail polish remover.
"You do that." Spike dug in his pants pocket, pulling out a pack of smokes, pressing one firmly between his lips, his Zippo's flame rising to light the stick of nicotine. He knew Angel didn't approve of his smoking, even less when Spike did it in his office, but to hell with em'. He was the one stuck here with the bookworm and his own life sized Barbie doll complete with air between the ears, while he and Gunn went traipsing off to Fiji to kill some demon cult. If he didn't want his furniture smelling of smoke than he shouldn't have left Spike at home with the girls. His own bloody fault, Spike mused as Harmony finally picked up the receiver.
Spike lowered himself into Angel's favorite black leather chair, the one Angel had warned him expressively was off limits. He was just about to reach for an issue of Rolling Stone when he caught Harmony's recognizing tone. "Oh, it's you." She sighed, messing with her now stained top. "No, he's not here. God! What am I, his beeper?" Spike had to smile as he listened to the part of the conversation he could hear. "Keeper. Whatever." She rolled her eyes. "I told you, he's not here." Pause. "I dunno, some demon tropical thingie." Another pause. "I am only his secretary!" Harmony protested. "It's not my job to know where he is, or how to reach him, or when he'll get back! " There was yet another long pause in which Spike could make out the mumbling clucking noises over the other end. He almost felt bad for the caller... almost. He was evil after all, big bad and all that, and it was a rare treat to watch Harmony torture someone, other than himself that is. "Here." The blonde vampire trusted the black phone into Spike's grasp. "She wants to talk to someone else."
An annoyed scowl crossed Spike's face, as he squished out the cigarette on Angel's new desk. He had no urge to help these wankers. That was Angel's bit. He was only in this game for one reason and one reason only. "Hullo?" He brought the phone to his ear.
"Spike?" Came a familiar voice from the other end.
"Red?" Spike's eyes grew wide; he actually missed the witch. He missed them all, though he would rather stake himself than admit it. In fact he had been constantly questioning himself as to why he agreed to play nursemaid to a bunch of wankers, and work with the poof when he could be basking in the cloudy winters of Cleveland with Willow and the rest of the gang. Actually, he knew the reason, a certain smart-ass blonde slayer, one who would never love him as much as he loved her. "How you doin-" He stopped abruptly, mind traveling down the possible paths for Willow's call. "Wait, don't tell me this call is to warn me someone thinks we're betrothed, no Wind Beneath My bloody Wings?"
"Huh?" Willow was sure she missed a step somewhere.
Spike chuckled low in his throat; he could almost see Willow's face scrunched up in confusion, her eyebrows arching high. "No magic mumbo jumbo I should be worried about? No ending of the world? Random engagements?"
"Hey!" Willow cried in offense. "Is anyone ever gonna let me live that down? I mean sure, there have been like one or two-"
"One or two?" Spike interrupted, teasing her.
"Okay." Willow conceded. "So maybe there have been a few instances where things didn't go as planned! But there have been lots of times that things have worked out great! And- and to hear you talk you would think all my spells always go 'Ka-blew-ie!'" Willow paused when she heard Spike laughing on the other end. Out on the sidewalk, away from the noise, from everything but the chilling wind she let the horrors that were happening inside fall away. "And yes, there has been the occasional 'poofage' but that was before and now I'm like Super Wicca Girl."
Spike shook his head. "Be needin' a cape then, luv." Willow grumbled and Spike could almost sense she was trying to think of the best way to drive something sharp and pointy at him regardless of the miles between them, so he switched gears. "So...you lookin' for Angel?" He shifted uncomfortably in the Italian leather chair.
That brought Willow crashing back down to reality. She glanced guiltily at the door, she should not be wasting time, not when Buffy... She couldn't even bare to finish that thought. Willow, Super Wicca Girl she was, hadn't been able to do a thing for her best friend; in fact she was afraid she might have made it worse. "Yeah. Do you know how I can reach him?"
"No, Red. I don't. Left me here all alone with the girls." Spike answered truthfully, sitting up straighter at the seriousness of her tone and the small sigh she admitted at his reply. "Is somethin' wrong?" Fear coursed through his non-beating heart, Nibblet, Buffy, if anything ever happened to either of them he didn't know what he would do. Miles apart and to him they were his family, his purpose in his undead life, without them this would be pointless.
Across the country, a serious internal war raged within Willow, conflicts of the heart colliding against logic of the brain. She hadn't been so trusting of Spike when he came back to Sunnydale, all souled up, but she liked to think that was because of the First, and the control it had had on him. She had felt awful when he "died", not taking it nearly as hard as Buffy, Dawn or even Andrew, but she still felt his loss, the gapping whole that both Spike and Anya had left in the group. And then he was back, just like that. She was never really clear on how, or why he came back but his return was both unsettling and joyous. A part of her felt like telling him, just to make up for that evil little voice in the back of her head, and the part of her that knew Spike, that trusted Spike, wanted to keep it from him. No one should have to see someone they love go through this. Then why are you trying to find Angel? Her mind fired back. Shouldn't he be spared the sight too? If she was perfectly honest with herself she would admit it was because she was running out of options, they couldn't reach Buffy anymore, she wasn't altogether sure anyone could.
"Witch?" Spike prompted; the silence on the other end deafening. Spike had always loved silence, what with Dru's rantings all bloody day and night, silence became something to be cherished, worshipped even. Then one night changed everything, the night after Buffy jumped to save Dawn, the silence was horrible, filling his mind like a muffled blanket, ears aching to hear her heart beat. Now he understood why so many humans lived for noise, for sound. Because silence, to so many, was death.
The soft-pleading tone in which Spike had pulled Willow's mind back from its meanderings, had made her decision, it was like a bolt of lightening, and she just knew what she should do. She heard that unspoken question, knew what he didn't want to hear, what she didn't want to tell him. So she took a deep breath and did the only thing she could; she kept her mouth shut. "No, no." She shook her head, plastering a look of enthusiasm on her face as if he could see her through the phone line. "Everything's just fine and dandy. Yep," She overcompensated as she always did. "Everything is fine and dandy, and we're all eating candy. And wow, that rhymes! Dandy candy." She repeated, giggling nervously; secret keeping, not one of Willow's best accomplishments.
Spike sighed, knowing damn well what she was up to. "Pet, I know what's going on." Willow gasped unintentionally, cold Cleveland air filling her lungs with a sharp stab. "Don't worry, not gonna tell your little Scooby gang, but Red, you need to lay off the caffeine. Don't need you all twitchy when you’re doing that mumbo jumbo. Not exactly conducive for spell castin'."
Willow exhaled, not even realizing she had been holding her breath, she had been so close. "Yep, me caffeine, non-mixy. Bad, bad Willow! I have to go... and do penance and stuff. You know, for the caffeine, and the caffeine. And I have to go." She wanted off the phone as quick as possible, Spike was far too good at telling when something was up, and he didn't need to be here for this. He didn't deserve that kind of hurt, the kind of anger that builds, sparked by feelings of uselessness, and fed by the horror in Buffy's eyes. But she had called for a reason, Angel still might be able to help. "But ya know, if you hear from Angel, can you please tell him I called?"
"Sure, Pet. I'll make sure to give Nancy Boy the message." He was going to ask if there was anything he could do to help but a screaming chit in the background made him halt.
Amber, a fourteen-year-old slayer they had been training, swung the door open and nearly toppled over Willow. Her normally pale face was flushed red to match her curls that were pulled back into a high ponytail, her green eyes wild and frightened. "Willow!" She screeched, tears cascading down her cheeks, fear flooding from every pore on her body. "Call an ambulance! You need to call an ambulance!"
"What?" Willow grabbed the frantic girl's arm with one hand, her other, with the phone clenched in it, falling to her side.
"Knife!" The girl panted. "Blood... Oh God... So much blood... It's everywhere..." She was beginning to hyperventilate, ears flaming pink, fingers digging into Willow's arm for support.
"Calm down." Willow commanded, her own terror shining from her large orbs. "Breathe. What happened?"
Amber seemed to calm somewhat, breaths still coming in ragged pants, but her mind seemed clearer, the initial panic subsiding. "Buffy. She has a knife. She cut her arm. She's bleeding really badly. It's everywhere. And she's not making any sense again." Her breath hitched, a few double pants as she struggled to gain control over her body. Slayers shouldn't act like this, Buffy had always told her to keep a cool head.
"Where's the knife?!" Willow almost shook the poor child. There had been one close call before in which Buffy had cut deeply and repeatedly into her legs, the doctors had said it was a miracle she didn't suffer any permanent damage to her tendons, she had all but sliced through them. The three days Buffy was trapped in observation were the hardest ones Willow ever remembered, with the exception of the day Tara died. Buffy looked so hollow, so empty, staring at nothing. Not like Buffy at all, but some stranger, some weak child. Not her best friend, Buffy was always strong, Buffy had survived death twice, she had beaten the First, she wasn't weak. She was their leader. But then she seemed to do better, for awhile it was fine, and then came the crying at night, rants at the wall, conversations with no one, and then the screaming fits. Some days she was fine, she was Buffy, and other days... well, it was hard to tell who that girl was.
Amber winced at the pressure on her arm. Willow looked possessed, mad even. "Faith is trying to get it from her." She croaked.
Willow released her Vulcan death grip on the poor girl, dropping the cell phone in the process as it crashed on the cement, and dashed inside, hands held out as her mind sifted through spells of protection and healing. Amber began to sob furiously, convinced she wasn't strong enough to be a slayer, convinced her mentor was dying. She tried to think of what Buffy would do in this situation, she was always so calm in battle, so powerful, so strong. What would Buffy do? She sure as hell wouldn't sit by and watch, she would help, do something, anything. Amber noticed the small cell phone that Willow had dropped and retrieved it, intent on calling 911 when she heard a voice on the other end. "HELLO?!" It shouted at her. "ANYONE THERE?!"
"He-hello?" Amber brought the phone to her ear.
"What happened?" The petulant voice on the other end demanded.
"I-I can't talk right now." Amber said quickly. "Willow will have to call you back." And with that she hung up and dialed 911.
In an office twenty stories up, Harmony sulked. No one ever told her anything! Not to mention Spike had just run through the doors like a bat out of hell and didn't even bother to say he was sorry for her shirt! God, unlife sucked!