Title: Deliberate Mistakes
Content: A/C and Spike/Other, special appearance from Willow Rosenburg.
Summary: Set in the future. One mistake and the fang gang’s finally peaceful lives take an unexpected spin.
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made. Don’t own any of the character except for Julianne. She’s mine and if you borrow just let me know.
Distribution: By all means just tell me where?
Feedback: Like breathing air.
She was old. Aged faster due to the nature of her profession. Her fingers ran tiredly over the ancient book in her lap. The warm fire burned softly beside her as the cat sat at her feet slumbering in its old age too. The woman smiled at the picture she must have presented to the man. The withered old witch. The only thing she was missing was a broom, she mused amusedly.
“You look well.”
His eyes flickered with the flames in her fireplace and then lowered as if afraid to hold her gaze. “Not much different.”
“How long has it been?” The woman smiled softly closing the book and setting it gently on the table next to her chair.
“I believe so. After all it has been a while since we’ve had baddies come for us anymore. Not that important I suppose.” Raising an eyebrow the woman pushed a graying hair behind her ears and motioned for him to come in. A silent invitation was all he needed.
The taller man bent down and stepped into the room and the warm glow of the old woman smiling at him with sparkling green eyes. “How are you Willow?”
The old witch chuckled. “Getting older every day I’m afraid.” Her eyes tinged with affection. “Not like you though.”
The man bent down, his cold lips brushing her brow in a gentle kiss. He met her eyes briefly before settling down at her feet his hand tangling around her bony fingers. He didn’t speak first. Always the silent type, Willow smiled shaking her head softly. “How are the others?”
“They’re okay.” The voice held no conviction. “They send their love.”
The green eyes flickered with worry. “What is it?”
He was silent and Willow’s old heart skipped a beat with the foreboding intensity of his gaze.
“I need a favor Willow.” It was a whispered plea, one Willow had never heard from this man. Not in years.
Her eyes narrowed with confusion then blinked. “What?”
“I need a soul.”
Willow’s eyes widened slightly a startled breath escaping her as her hand jerked out of his hands. The dread seeped through her brittle bones like fire until it settled in her belly. The frail old woman stared into the chocolate brown eyes, not believing what her mind was telling her. “Oh goddess.”
Seeing the emotion take over the woman so quickly, he grabbed her trembling hands gently. “No Willow.” The man let out an un-needed breath. “Not for me.”
The blind panic instantly melted into relief and then curiosity. “Who then?”
He turned towards the open door and Willow frowned before following his eyes. For a second she thought she was seeing double. She blinked as if to clear her vision then her breath left her in a silent prayer. The first vision was determined, her warm brown eyes sad. Almost broken. The second vision returned fear into Willow’s old heart and she lifted a trembling hand to her lips. It couldn’t be.
Feral yellow eyes met green, the snarl still angered, the prominent bones of the face half shrouded in a cascade of flowing chestnut hair.
Angel sat in the now empty chair.
The cat watched him. Untrusting.
Flashes of memories licked the flames as the vampire’s eyes began to burn.
Warm brown eyes smiling into hazel ones.
A small baby boy sleeping.
A little girl running through the old hotel.
The mop of brown curls popping out from behind the couch as she latches onto dark pants of a vampire, a father; squealing with glee.
Hide and seek.
Truth or dare.
A kiss. A careess. Heightened skin against silken bedding.
A tear in time.
Moist hazel eyes; sad. A son; lost.
A little girl sitting in her window watching her brother walking out of the house one last time.
Crashing waves. Small boxes. Dark sands.
Fingers slipping away. Cold skin. Vacant eyes.
Blood. Bone. Ecstacy.
The dark vampire looked up shaken from his memories as the old woman entered the room once again a small brown book in her hand. He watched the regret in her eyes and ignored the reigned anger in her delicate face.
“Where is she?”
“Your daughter is sleeping.”
When Angel didn’t speak further Willow sighed. “She is chained in the cellar.”
Brief pain flickered in his eyes and he looked away the muscle in his jaw twitching with an effort to control his instinct.
Save her. Protect her.
He knew she had questions. Willow always had questions. She reminded him of Fred.
His eyes closed.
His hands shook when he remembered the betrayal in Fred’s eyes; the anger in Gunn’s and the pain in Wesley’s eyes. The list went on. Faith had looked murderous.
Angel took a ragged breath his body rejected.
A hand came and gently settled on his shoulder. “She looks so young.” The woman couldn’t hold her smile missing her own youth. The very magic that had been her gift had also taken a piece of her youth each time she used it. Seeing Cordelia, vamped or otherwise, so young, with her flawless skin was enough to bring back memories for the old witch.
“Perks of borrowed blood.” The bitterness was palpable.
“Angel you know I don’t…”
“I know Willow, but I have no where else to go.” The witch had given it up. No casting. Her power had been uncontainable.
Not since Buffy’s death.
“BUFFY!!! Behind you!” Willow screamed as the master sank his fangs into the slayer from behind, his hand gripping her chin and twisting until her eyes became wide and her neck snapped.
Xander froze in his spot, the gun pointed.
Anya took a sharp breath her sword freezing in mid air.
Giles lost his grip on his crossbow as it cluttered to the floor.
Tara stopped mid spell, the two vampires suspended in the air falling with a sickening thud.
Time stopped for an instant.
Stopped until Spike roared towards the falling slayer his fangs out and ripped anything that came in his way.
And Willow’s eyes slammed shut as her control shattered.
Waves upon waves of magic burst free from her finger tips engulfing the warehouse, turning all the vampires to cinders, blowing the walls of the warehouse miles across the dock, throwing her friends off their feet and screamed without constraint. With loss. With agony. With fury. With love.
“Willow! No!” Tara cried out desperately, imploringly and the storm ceased as quickly as it had started.
The witch slid down next to her best friend. The Scooby gang stood in the crater while Willow sat clutching the slayer to her chest, her gray streaked hair falling across the slayer’s throat, the red of the bite mark matching the red streaks left in her hair, her tears freezing in her green eyes and the only surviving vampire standing over her silently.
And it was over.
The witch startled out of her daze and took a sharp breath, her green eyes flickering to conceal the hidden tears she’d never shed.
Angel looked up at her with a frown. “Willow?”
She swallowed. “I will.”
Angel turned back to the flames. “Thank you.”