Part 3

“I'm pulled down by the undertow/I never thought I could feel so low/oh darkness I feel like letting go.”

They arrived at Angel’s just in time, for a thunderstorm blew in right as they ran inside. Breathing hard from the running, Willow plopped down on the couch. The power flickered, and went out.
“Willow?” Angel asked, moving forward. “Can you help me find some candles?” He heard some strange chanting, then a light floated toward him. “O…okay. That works.” She walked into the light.
“Where do you keep candles? This isn’t going to last long.” He pointed to the kitchen, and she went and opened the cabinets. “Okay, here’s some.” She got out a bunch, and a match. Chanting again, she lit the match, then touched it to one candle and the room filled with light as the rest of the candles, including those scattered around the room. Angel looked at her and fell on the couch. He noticed Willow shivering, and told her to come sit down.
“Are you cold? I think the storm knocked out the heat too.” She nodded, unable to keep her teeth from chattering without the chanting. He pulled her into his lap, took off his jacket, and draped it over her shoulders. “Does this help?” He teased. She nodded.
“Y…yes…much…b…better.” They sat like that in the flickering candlelight for some time, and when Angel looked down at Willow again, she was sleeping peacefully, her head resting on his shoulder.
I bet she’s exhausted from jetlag, he thought. And she’s trying to adjust herself to my schedule. Poor thing. I wonder what she’s dreaming of. Unwilling to let her go, he held her until he fell asleep too.
The next week went by unusually uneventful. A few new vampires were slain, but nothing big. Willow was reluctant to leave, but she had to get back to her studies, so she packed up her stuff and prepared to leave. Angel gave her one of his books, then took her to the airport. In a sudden burst of boldness, she kissed him goodbye fiercely, then ran onto the plane.
Angel stared at the place he’d last seen Willow in amazement and confusion, then ran to the window to watch her plane leave. “I missed you, Willow.” He murmured. The good vampire then fled the airport, silent tears running down his face. He ran to the library, and grabbed the yearbooks from the years that the “Scooby gang” was still attending Sunnydale High. They were in these books, and he had to see them again. Sweet, shy, innocent Willow. Funny, clumsy, annoying Xander. Flirty, sharp, stylish Cordy. Calm, collected, earthy Oz. Buffy. Angel’s tears stained the yearbooks with little round raised circles. He had one more place to visit that night.
As he sat on Buffy’s windowsill, he wondered what she was doing, wherever she was, and if she was safe. Lost in thought, he didn’t notice Joyce had entered the room until she tapped him on the back. He jumped, and hit his head.
“I’m sorry.” Apologized Buffy’s mother. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Have you had any word from her?” Joyce had become a sliver of her former self; her daughter’s leave had impacted her life greatly.
“No.” He was crying again, and the moon shone brightly on his tears.
Willow sat on the plane to Boston, full of nervous energy. She wondered how Angel had reacted to that kiss. The old book in her lap caught her attention, and she opened it anxiously. Angel’s scrawling yet strangely elegant handwriting jumped out at her.
“Dearest Willow,” it read. “Keep this book to remember me by while you’re gone. Return as often as you like, I’ll always be here. I miss you already, though right now, you’re packing in my bedroom. I hope you enjoy these spells. Much love, Angel.”
She turned the fragile page carefully. The next page read simply, “Majick”. Eagerly, she read on. “Majick to cure.” There were several elaborate healing spells in this chapter, including a mental healing spell. The next chapter was “Majick for demons and exorcism.” Now excited, Willow read intent on finding what she hoped was in this chapter. “Spell to remove a demon from a vampire.” Original name, she thought, but she knew this was probably it. What they’d looked for so long had been in Angel’s own home. She mentally hit herself for the irony of the situation. “To remove a vampire’s demon, you must first be certain the said vampire has a soul,” The first page read. “Without a soul, the vampire will age rapidly and become dust within a matter of seconds. Second, they must be willing to have the spell done to them, but they must not know that the spell is being done. Third, every member of the group doing the spell must hold love in their hearts.” Gee, Willow thought sarcastically, this isn’t risky at all. “The materials needed for said spell include 4 people; a vampire; 13 black candles; ” Willow read on, intent on finding Angel’s cure.
Angel was crying in Buffy’s once more empty room. Joyce had left, disappointed, because she didn’t like to stay in the bedroom of her missing daughter. The sound of whistling filled Angel’s ears, and he jumped down to the street, recognizing the song. As he wiped the tears out of his eyes, he growled and put on his game face. “Hello, Spike.” He growled.
“Why, ‘allo, Angel.” The British vampire drawled in surprise. “I heard the Slayer had left little old Sunnyhell, so I came for a visit.” He said, with a cocky smile on his face. Angel growled again, clenching his fists at his sides. “Still the old soul-having Angel, I see? The Slayer didn’t leave for the same reasons she did last time?” He smirked.
“Spike, if you have any information on Buffy, I want to hear it now.” Angel growled. “If not, I suggest you leave.”
“Calm down, peaches. I know where she is.” In surprise, Angel’s tears started again, and his game face left. “Hell, Angel, control yourself. Tears are not what she needs right now.” Spike turned to go, but seeing Angel staying where he was, he turned around again. “Well?” Angel jumped to attention and followed the bleached-blond vampire to an old apartment building.
As they walked up, a scream erupted from the building, and the two dashed to the top floor and through the door, Spike leading the way.
A pitifully weak voice called, “Spike?”
“I’m here, Slayer. I’m here.” He responded, walking into the bedroom. Surprised, Angel followed him and saw the vampire reach down and cradle a feminine form in the bed. “You’ll be okay.”
“But… Giles…” The girl mumbled, drifting back into sleep. Angel came further into the room and saw the girl closer. It was Buffy, and he gasped as he saw how beaten she was. Her face was bruised and battered, and she had cuts and scratches all over. Spike put a finger to his lips, indicating that he should be quiet, then carefully got up and led Angel back into the other room.
“She won her fight, but she lost a lot. So did I, but not as much as her.” Explained Spike. “Giles is gone, and she can’t walk for a while. Her sight’s pretty bad too.” In a rage, Angel let his game face slip again, and he shoved Spike against a wall.
“How could you let this happen to her?” He hissed. Spike let his true face show, and he hissed in response, “Back off! I didn’t do that. The Circle did! Drusilla did! That’s why I killed her!” Angel dropped him, and he winced as he hit the floor, then jumped up again, dusting himself off. “I’ve protected Buffy so far, but I got the impression she didn’t want to see you when she’s like this.” He stood there silently for a minute.
Then Angel growled, “You love her, don’t you?” Spike looked shocked, then he dropped his head. And swore.
“Bloody hell, it wasn’t supposed to happen!”
“It happens that way, Spike. Especially with her.” Angel was quiet for a minute, then he spoke again.
“I’ll call our friends next week. Deal?”
“I’ll ask her later.” Angel growled with distaste. “We’ll meet tomorrow to discuss it.” Spike bargained. His sire nodded, and left.
Willow’s plane landed, and, after picking up her car, she headed to her apartment, the one her parents had given her for her birthday. “Hello, Patches.” She greeted Oz’s cat. Patches had been left behind when Oz left on tour. “What have you been doing while I’ve been gone? Has Xander been feeding you?” The cat meowed plaintively. She walked towards her kitchen, dropping her stuff. Her answering machine was blinking, so she pushed the button.
“Hey, Will,” The machine said. “It’s Xander. I fed Patches, and I restocked your kitchen, like you asked. I hope you had fun on your trip. I’ll see you when school starts again. Bye!” It beeped, then went on to the next message.
“Willow, it’s Angel.” His voice was deep and sorrowful. “Call me when you get home, okay? Something’s come up, I need to talk to you.” Even on the machine, it sounded urgent. She dialed his number hurriedly, and heard his voice, hollow from crying.
“Hello?”
“Hey, Angel. What’s wrong? What happened?” She asked, worried from his voice.
“Willow? Willow, I found her.”
“You found Buffy? That’s good! How is she? How’s Giles?” Excited, Willow was all ready looking for a way to get back to Sunnydale, and finding everyone’s phone numbers.
“She’s…injured. Badly. You can’t tell anyone, I promised…” His voice trailed off. Then he started again. “She’s dependent on him, I didn’t want to hurt her more...”
“Angel, who? Who is she dependent on? You’re leaving spaces in your story.” Her excitement was dampened by the fact that Buffy was injured and Giles hadn’t entered the conversation yet.
“She…she’s dependent on Spike. I…I don’t know what’s going on anymore, he couldn’t tell me more… I was in shock, I left. She… she wasn’t the same Buffy anymore…”
“Hold on, Angel. I’ll try to get down there as soon as possible. I’ll call my travel agent…wait; I’m broke. Can you get me tickets? I’ve got a week of break left.”
“O…okay.” He said, still sounding odd. “Tomorrow? I need you, Willow.” This innocent statement touched her.
“Okay, Angel, tomorrow’s good,” She calmed, trying to repack her suitcase as she talked. “Call me back, then, okay? I’ll stay here, near the phone, if you need me. Okay? Bye, Angel.” She said, then, “Hang up the phone now, Angel.” The phone clicked, and she collapsed onto her bed. This was way too weird. First these feelings for Angel, then the spell, then he finds Buffy, and she’s dependent on Spike? Too weird. Willow fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Angel held the phone in his hand, and heard Willow’s voice say, “Hang up the phone now, Angel.” He pushed the off button, then dialed his travel agent’s number.
“Um, hi, this is Angel, I need tickets from Boston to LA? Tomorrow? Can you do that? Good. Willow Rosenberg. Yeah, add it to my account. Of course. No. No. Thank you. Goodbye.” The one sided conversation went. He hung up the phone and set it down. What was he going to do? He wondered. He grabbed Mr. Gordo, then decided there was someone who needed it more.
Buffy moved in her sleep and curled her arm around a certain stuffed pig she had left behind a year ago. Angel saw this, then smiled tearfully, and walked back to his apartment. He couldn’t wait until Willow came.

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