InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ A Slayer of Nightmares ❯ Chapter Seven ( Chapter 7 )

Chapter Seven

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Inuyasha, whimpering, woke her a few hours before dawn.

Kagome lifted her head from her pillow. During the night they'd moved apart so they were no longer touching; now, he was making soft noises and shaking. Literally shaking -- she could feel the blankets quivering. He was making tiny noises, and something just felt wrong.

At first, she thought it was a nightmare. She propped herself up on one elbow and reached a hand out to shake him awake. The shoulder she touched was shivering, yet burning hot. And he was awake, because he murmured her name, and then added, "Keh. I f-f-feel like shit."

He was boiling with fever; she could feel the heat rolling off his thin body in waves.

"Fuck," she said, "You're sick, Inuyasha."

"No, you think?" He snarked at her, sounding angry t-- perhaps at what had been done to him, perhaps that his body dared to betray him in this way.

"Is it your wound?" She asked, quietly.

She felt him patting at it, arm moving under the covers. It wasn't really that bad of a cut, though it was healing slowly, if at all. He coughed, a dry and nasty noise. "Don't think so. Doesn't hurt much, and it isn't hot."

She sighed, and untangled herself from the covers. The cough was alarming to her ears and probably the real reason for his fever. She knew Inuyasha's tolerance for discomfort was extremely high; he could have been feeling bad earlier and not even acknowledged it. He'd been rather distracted, anyway ... "You might just have the flu or something." Unfortunately influenza, or even the common cold, could be deadly in and of itself, if his immune system was failing. She sighed, and said, "Do you have a legal identity so we can take you to a doctor in the morning?"

"G-got a driver's license and a social security number and a credit history 'n all that, if that's what you mean. It's current. The license shows me as me, even."

Inuyasha, driving, was a scary thought. She hadn't asked him if he had a car. She also didn't want to know how the social security number and license had been accomplished. On the other hand, this was California ... it probably took more than a guy with dog ears and funny eyes to worry a DMV clerk.

"Hate driving. Running is faster. But I can, if I have to. Amelia made me learn, in case I needed to go somewhere the night I'm human -- and the license comes in handy if I've gotta buy something with plastic 'n they want ID," he said, from underneath the covers. He was burrowing under them, obviously freezing from chills. "Kagome, I'm sick."

"Yeah." She stood up and padded into the bathroom, where she retrieved a bottle of antibiotics that she'd purchased in Mexico, plus four ibuprofen and a glass of water. If he had flu -- and she wasn't sure on that -- the antibiotics wouldn't help with the virus itself, but would at least help to stave off a secondary infection.

He protested when she pulled the covers back. "Cold!"

"I know. Sit up and take these. They'll help, I hope."

"Pills." He spoke with flat skepticism.

"Yes, pills. Take them."

He swallowed them, then downed the entire glass of water. Shivering more violently now, he yanked the covers back over his head and curled up into a tight, miserable ball.

"Do you want some tea?" She asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Could you -- could you hold me?" He said in a small, tentative voice.

Ah, yes, she remembered very well that Inuyasha, when he was really and truly sick, wanted to be held and comforted -- she'd seen it before from him. On the other hand, Inuyasha on the mend was a holy terror. She crawled under the blankets with him, wrapped her arms around his shivering body, and said quietly, "You'll be okay, Inuyasha. Really, you will."

"Kagome, t-thank you," he curled up against her.

"You're welcome. Try to sleep, if you can."

"Mmmph." He said something she didn't quite catch. Eventually, the ibuprofen took his fever down enough that he quit shivering and he slept fitfully in her arms. She didn't sleep much for the rest of the night, though. She could feel that the magic binding his youkai half was fading faster now -- and that meant he was, too since the two were tied together.

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Willow woke to silence in the hotel room. It was well past dawn. She sat up, dislodging the laptop still resting on her stomach -- the monitor flickered on as the motion woke the computer from 'sleep' mode. She yawned sleepily, blinking away eye crud.

After a moment's fuzzy thought, she realized she'd fallen asleep while reading files that she'd had scanned and e-mailed from England. Inuyasha research.

He was so much more than just a Big Bad hanyou.

He killed Kennedy, Willow thought, with acute grief. It hurt more to think that someone who was so solidly on the side of the light (according to the research) had killed her girlfriend. Had he gone bad somewhere along the line, perhaps been cursed with black magic of some kind? Lost his soul? Or just lost his humanity, in a maelstrom of grief when Kennedy had killed his wife ... Damnit, I know that mindset. Damnit. Damnit.

She'd been there. And she'd done a whole lot worse than kill Slayers -- said Slayers had been hunting Inuyasha with deadly intent and wouldn't have hesitated to take him out if he hadn't been the better fighter. Kill or be killed. He chose to kill and live himself.

She raked a hand through her red hair, and glanced over to Buffy's bed -- which was empty.

Probably hooked up with Spike, Willow thought, with a little amusement. I hope they're having fun. Xander's going to have kittens when he finds out she didn't come home after 'patrolling' -- yeah, she's having some fun with Spikey Goodness ...

Willow made herself blush when she realized the double entendre there.

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It was still three days to the new moon, Kagome thought, grimly. By morning, Inuyasha had developed a horrible hacking cough and what she thought was a sinus infection. He was clearly miserable -- he sat hunched up under her quilt on the couch, staring at morning kiddy-cartoons and probably not actually seeing them.

"Here. Try to eat. You have an appointment with my doctor at noon." Kagome handed him a cup of ramen noodles and then settled on the couch beside him.

He cupped the soup in his hands, sipped it, then made a face. "Tastes weird."

I'm not surprised, she thought. Taste buds are rapidly replicating cells -- they're probably going to be one of the first things that he loses as well, depending on how things progress. If his body's shutting down, he's going to lose his sense of taste pretty quickly.

"Eat it anyway. You need the calories to fight this." If he even can, Kagome thought, chilled. What she sensed from him as a miko was truly frightening. Last night had been the best night of her life ... but this morning was a nightmare. Because she'd studied enough biology in relation to her miko abilities to have a good idea about what would happen to him. Seeing her worst fears confirmed ... she tried to keep her expression pleasantly neutral, but judging by the look he shot her, she wasn't entirely successful.

Maybe he just has an ordinary case of the flu, she tried to tell herself.

Suddenly, he set the soup down on the floor and stumbled towards the bathroom. He vomited until only bile was left; mouth set in a thin line against her own sympathetic nausea, she crouched next to him, holding his long hair back. Her hands were coated with the strands that were now falling out in clouds. When it seemed nothing more wanted come up, he slumped sideways against the bathroom cabinets and said miserably, "I'm dying, aren't I?"

She couldn't lie to him, not on this. So she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close and said, "Inuyasha, you might, if I can't break this spell on you."

"Tell me the truth, Kagome. I want to know. Can you do it?"

"I honestly don't know. But I'm going to try. You know I'll try."

He pressed his cheek against her shoulder. "Thank you."

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The doctor diagnosed influenza A and secondary pneumonia and sent them off without further investigation, but with a prescription for Tamiflu, what the doctor termed "the good stuff" cough syrup, and a different type of antibiotics than what she'd given him the night before. The doctor hadn't seemed overly worried by his symptoms; he'd simply said, "Take him home, put him to bed, he'll be fine in a week. He's otherwise healthy."

Kagome feared he would be dead in a week, but maybe the medication would buy them enough time to break the spell on him. She would have preferred that the doctor investigate further, maybe do some blood work, but then again, what was he going to find? She wasn't sure if he discovered anything significant (either a seriously suppressed immune system, anemia, or evidence of kidney or liver failure) that a hospital was even the best place for Inuyasha right now, as long as he wasn't in need of critical life support.

And if they drew blood in the hospital ... she wasn't entirely sure how human he was, nor what the hospital would do if their tests picked up anything weird. On a basic level, he was human, but she wasn't didn't know about the fine points of blood chemistry. And what his genetics would look like right now would be anyone's guess.

Anyway, her miko senses said he was sick but not that critical yet. And catching the flu might not be an indication that his immune system was going south ... He'd probably never been human long enough in his life to have caught even the most basic of germs -- he had no immunity to anything. That was another reason for not getting him into a hospital; he'd have no immunity to the bugs found in the typical clinical environment.

And then there'd be the complication of getting him discharged (or sneaking him out) in a few days when she was ready to try to break the spell on him ...

If he got worse, she'd take him to the emergency room. She was well aware that he could go downhill in a hurry, but she honestly didn't know what else to do.

"You hungry?" She asked him.

He hunched up under her quilt in the passenger seat of her car, and gave her a look that said not really. He was far too pale, eyes glittering with fever, lips cracking and peeling. He rubbed his running nose with the heel of his hand, and she made a face. "There's tissues in the glove box."

"Thanks." He fumbled them out and wiped his nose. "Seven hundred years and I die of a germ. It's perfect, ne?"

"You're not going to die of this," she said, with more confidence than she felt.

"Keh. I don't know how you humans deal with crap like this. I'm ready to die, I feel so shitty."

"That had better be a joke," she gave him a sharp look, which he met with a crooked, tired smile that said, yes, he was joking -- mostly. Inuyasha's sense of humor was sometimes a bit stunted under the best of circumstances and a 102 degree fever wasn't helping matters.

She pulled into a fast food drive through, and asked, "What do you want?"

"Not hungry," he muttered.

"What will you eat? Because you're eating something even if I have to shove it down your throat."

"Do that and I'll bite you ... French fries. Soda." He coughed again. She wasn't sure which worried her more -- the fact that he wasn't hungry (because Inuyasha was always hungry) or that he wasn't arguing with her beyond token resistance.

She ordered a tub o' fries for him, and a matching tub o' Pepsi; American food proportions never ceased to amaze her. You could feed a family of four for a week with the average dinner entree at a typical restaurant.

"Ketchup,'" he requested, then coughed thickly.

He did eat, to her relief, finishing the entire serving of french fries by the time she emerged from a pharmacy with his prescription. Calories were a good thing right now, she thought. He swallowed the pills with the last of the soda, and without complaint. The little plastic cup of cough syrup he sniffed, then swallowed with a grimace when she glared at him threateningly.

"Thirsty," he muttered, leaning against the car window.

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By the time they got to her apartment, Inuyasha was dopey from the codeine laced cough syrup -- she guided him up the steps and into her home, then into the bed, where he flopped with a muffled complaint that she didn't quite catch. He was snoring heavily in moments.

Inuyasha sleeping was probably a good thing. She needed to do some serious research -- breaking Willow's spell wasn't going to be easy. Among other things, she had never tried to break a white magic spell before; her powers were strongly slanted towards purifying evil.

I'll do it even if it kills me. There has to be a way.

Four hours later, she had a list of possibilities for saving him, and a strong need to talk to someone with more experience. Need to take a field trip -- I think the owner of the Witch's Books may be willing to help me. She was rapidly realizing just how out of her depth she was.

She rose and padded into the bedroom, wanting to let Inuyasha know she was going out.. "Inuyasha," she woke him with a gentle hand on the shoulder. "I need to run some errands and talk to someone. I'll be back in a few hours."

He blinked groggily at her, eyes unfocused. The codeine cough syrup obviously still had him zonked. "Ennn?" It was sort've an inquiry about what she wanted, though she wasn't sure she distinguished any words in the noise he made.

"In two hours, you need to take some meds. I'm going to set my alarm clock and leave them on the dresser for you. Okay?" She stroked his hair.

"Yeah, sure." He yanked the covers over his head. "Don't be gone long."

She patted his back through the blanket. "Don't forget the medication, ne? It's important that you keep your fever down and take your antibiotic."

"Better if you were here to remind me," he muttered, sounding needy and scared.

"I'll be back in time for dinner, I promise. There's a shopkeeper who might know a few things that I want to talk to." She continued to stroke his back -- he was sweating and the blanket was damp. "Shippou said he'd come by this afternoon; he might be here before I'm back."

He pushed the cover back a bit and looked at her with fever-bright eyes. "Kagome?"

"Yeah?" She brushed his hair back from his forehead.

"Be careful. Anything happens to you, I die too," he closed his eyes and said in a choked, hoarse voice. "I don't want to die anymore. I want to stay with you."

"I ... I'll be back." She swallowed down a very large lump in her throat. "I promise."

"Keh. You break that promise, I'll kick your ass." He rolled over, burrowing back under the blankets.

"Inuyasha?"

"What now?" The huddled, shivering pile of bedclothes demanded grumpily.

"I-I love you," she whispered. "I want you to know that."

"Like that wasn't obvious."

She chuckled, amused by his response simply because it was so very Inuyasha. That was an Inuyasha I-love-you-too, she thought, even if he hadn't actually said the words. Five hundred years and he really hadn't changed all that much. Knowingly, she said, "Glad the feeling's mutual, dog-boy. I'll see you later."

"Keh."

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The sign said Los Libros de las Brujas -- Books of the Witches. It was in one of the seedier, tougher neighborhoods in LA; Kagome wasn't overly worried for herself, but she parked her car with a wince for the vehicle's safety and set the alarm and put her Club across the steering wheel. A year ago, she'd come out of the store to find both taillights on it smashed for no apparent reason.

The shop itself could only be seen by those who needed to find it, according to the owners. The street in front of it, unfortunately, didn't appear to be covered under the same spell.

Inside, the store smelled of old books, cinnamon-apple candles, and the very faint underlying odor of bookstore cat. Said cat, an elderly calico, greeted her with a friendly prrrrrip as she walked in.

"Hey Kitty," she said, bending over and scratching his ears. The bells on the door jingled as it closed behind her. The cat rubbed up against her ankles, then nipped at her hand when she tried to stroke his back.

"Oh. I'm sorry." She smiled at the cat, reminded of Buyo, "Was that too friendly?"

He made a meowing noise that almost sounded like a laugh, and licked one back leg.

"Is Sandy around?"

"Aiou!" The noise he made contained far too many vowels and not enough consonants to be considered a "meow." The cat stood up and walked towards the back of the store. She followed -- she'd never figured out if Kitty was just a cat, or if he was something Other. It often seemed like he understood human speech -- but that wasn't much of a clue. Buyo had sometimes seemed the same way.

The shop seemed to go on forever -- it was definitely bigger inside than out. And still, somehow, it felt cramped. Books, most of them not magical in origin, were piled on shelves haphazardly, and stuffed into stacks of cardboard boxes when bookshelf space ran out. There were racks of magical objects -- crystals, statues, weapons --, and bins of materials. Dusty glass display cases held jewelry and small valuables, plus a collection of rare comic books that hadn't been touched in the two years that Kagome had been coming here.

It was a familiar, comfortable place.

"Hey Sandy," she said, spotting the dark-haired part-demon woman who was one of the two brujas indicated in the shop's name. The woman was up to her elbows in a box of paperback romance novels, hair tied back with a bandanna, a smudge of dirt on her cheek, and cobwebs hanging from one of her short, curved horns. Like Inuyasha, Sandy was a halfbreed, though not of Japanese origins -- she'd met Sandy's father once, and he bore a striking resemblance to Pan from European mythology. Or the Christian devil, depending on how one looked at it ... fortunately, Sandy had simply gotten her father's horns and a health dose of magical ability.

She glanced over her shoulder, then grinned in greeting. "Kagome-san! Ohayo!"

She'd just mangled "hello" in Japanese. But Kagome laughed -- it was the effort that counted -- and said, "Hola, Sandy-san."

"Haven't seen you in at least a month." Sandy stood up. "Found that cute guy of yours yet?"

"Actually, yes," Kagome said, "That's why I'm here."

"You found him? Give, girl! That's just awesome! -- It is, isn't it?" Obviously, Kagome's face was betraying her concern, because Sandy sobered quickly and peered at her with concern. "Uh-oh, something didn't go right?"

"Inuyasha and I are good," she said, with a smile as she remembered just how good things had been, before he'd gotten sick. "I think things are working out between us better than I could have hoped for. However, he's got a nasty spell on him that I need to know how to lift. It's going to k-kill him in days if we don't get it broken."

"Oh dear," Sandy said, in concern. "That's not good at all."

"Yeah," Kagome said, quietly. "I've some idea how to break it, but I needed your advice. The witch who cast the spell on him is uber powerful."

Sandy scratched her head between her horns. "Can't you just purify the black magic?"

"Unfortunately, the spell on him isn't exactly evil." Kagome sat down on a box containing stacks of magazines, and said, "He... he's made some bad enemies, and they're on the side of the light. One of them's a pretty powerful witch ... she's cast a spell on him that's turned him human. The problem is, he's seven hundred years old now."

"Crap," Sandy said, "It's a binding spell?"

"Yeah, and I can't purify it because it's good magic. Wiccan, I think, though the wicca in question is wicked powerful, way more than usual." Kagome coughed. The dust in the store was irritating her chest.

"I thought you said your friend was a good guy," Sandy said, with a frown.

"He is. Believe me, he is." Kagome sighed. "He's also occasionally an idiot, and -- oh, it's a mess."

"If he's a good guy, can't you just talk the witch into lifting the curse?" Sandy asked.

"I highly doubt it. Inuyasha killed her lover, immediately after the lover killed Inuyasha's wife. Things have gone swiftly downhill from there. The witch knew exactly what she was doing when she put that spell on him; she fully intends for him to die." Kagome coughed again. "Easier just to break the spell. Then I'm hoping to leave town with him. I might go back to Japan -- my family will welcome him, I think. My mother likes him a lot, and my brother thinks he's the coolest guy ever."

"Lucky you. My mother's side of the family doesn't even acknowledge I or my father exist." Sandy rolled her eyes. "Okay, so you need to break a white magic spell. Who's the witch? That might make a difference; if it's someone I know, I might have an idea on what techniques would work best."

"Her name's Willow ..."

Sandy's eyebrows rose, then lowered into an intense scowl. "Willow Rosenberg? Who works with the Slayers? This is Slayer business?"

"It's a big huge mess, yeah, with the Slayers."

Sandy shook her head. "I can't help you on this one, kiddo. Sorry."

"But ..." Kagome said, seeing her hopes for assistance from the shopkeeper disappear.

"Willow's big league. She's probably the most powerful witch -- black or white -- in the world right now. I am not crossing her. I'm just a minor league demon, you know? A few charms, a few potions, fortunes told and -- fuck, woman, I'm a halfbreed. I'm not crossing the Slayers and I'm not even looking sideways at Rosenberg! The woman's taken on a God and the First Evil and walked away unscathed!" Sandy's voice rose as she spoke, and she grew visibly more agitated.

"First Evil?" Kagome said, baffled by the reference.

"Nevermind. Look -- if your trouble is with the Slayers, take it up with their leader. Buffy's not completely unreasonable." Sandy shook her head, vigorously. "Get your boyfriend to grovel at her feet and she might tell her witch to lift the hex on him. Know what I mean? That's your best option. I highly doubt you'd be able to break a spell that Willow cast -- I am not kidding when I say she's powerful. And even if you do, she'll know, and then she'll be coming after you. Willow's bad news."

"Willow's a white witch, I thought."

Sandy rolled her eyes. "That's what she'd like everyone to think, but she hasn't always been, and she's ... scary. Scary, scary. I'm just a little demon shopkeeper, though, what do I know? None of my business who the Slayers count as their friends. And I'm not getting in the way of the Slayers or Rosenberg!"

"Well, going to Buffy's probably flat out of the question." Kagome rested her forehead in her hands. "If it wasn't before, it for damn sure is now."

"Kagome? What did you do?" The woman said, sounding nervous.

"Purified Buffy last night. She confronted us!" Kagome said, fists balling. "It'll wear off eventually, but I doubt she's much in a mood to help us out. Particularly since I let her think it might be permanent. It seemed like a good idea at the time ... And anyway, I don't think the Slayers are in a forgiving mood. The reason they're after my dog-boy is that he killed a bunch of their people. The reason he killed a bunch of their people is that they were hunting him and he logically concluded they were bad guys. The reason they were hunting him is he killed one of their people and apparently tore up Buffy herself when they killed his wife."

Sandy winced. Held up a hand. "Stop there. I -- I really do not want to get involved in this. I'm sorry, Kagome, but you need to leave."

"But ... can I at least buy the supplies I think I need?"

Sandy's face twisted into an expression of pure resolve. "Leave."

"I'm going. I'm sorry to have troubled you." Kagome wanted to either cry or hit something hard. Instead, she summoned her dignity and left as ordered. What else could she do?

Well, she could cry, and did, as she drove on to the next store -- where the shopkeeper met her with a locked door and a shout through the glass that Sandy had called ahead. She found the same sort of reception at every magic shop in the city; word spread quickly and nobody was willing to help her, not against the Slayers.

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It was past two in the afternoon, and Buffy hadn't returned. Willow glanced at the clock radio in the hotel room, and finally worry beat out her strong suspicion that Buffy was enjoying some quality time with Spike. She picked up the hotel phone and dialed Buffy's cel phone.

It went immediately over to voice mail.

"Buffy. Gimme a call to tell me you're alive. And say hi to Spike for me."

She hung up, then, with a trace of guilt, called Giles. He wasn't going to be thrilled to find out that Buffy was almost certainly making up for lost time with Spike, but on the off chance that something was actually wrong ... yeah, she needed to let him know. Still, it felt a little like tattling on her best friend. Gee, Giles, your Slayer's making two-headed monsters with a vampire. Just thought you ought to know so you can make with the frowny face at her.

"Okay, so not sixteen anymore," she muttered. She wasn't a teenager, Buffy's feelings for Spike had been publicly declared on more than one occasion, and ... it still felt like tattling.

"Giles speaking," he answered his room phone.

"Hey, Giles, it's Willow. Any chance you've heard from Buffy? She went out to patrol about midnight last night and I haven't heard from her since." Willow said, a little quickly.

He cleared his throat. She could picture eye-glass wipage on his shirt. He speculated, "She probably met up with Spike."

"I'm thinking you're right," Willow said, with a nervous giggle. "But she hasn't checked in. I left a message for her a minute ago. Her cel phone's off."

"Spike has a cel phone," Giles said, almost absently, "He had it on his belt."

"Do we have his number anywhere?" Willow asked, hopefully. Duh. This is 2007. Everyone has a cel phone now.

"Not that I've heard -- Angel might have it, since they were working together," Giles suggested. With a hint of blackest amusement, Giles said, "Angel's work number is in our database. He actually called and gave it to us a few years ago."

"Thanks, I'll call Angel," Willow said, with some nervousness -- she hadn't spoken to Angel in years. He still gave her the wiggins.

"Let me know if you can't get ahold of Spike, or she's not there ..." Giles trailed off.

"Will do." She hung up, called Watcher Central, got Angel's phone number from the bored receptionist ("Last name?" "He doesn't have one." "Oh, here he is -- they put him in the database as Angel first name Angel last name, under Angel and Partners.") and then dialed it.

Angel and Partners? She wondered what he was actually doing for a living these days. Doubtless, someone at Slayer Central knew. It was a measure of how busy she'd been for the last several years that she had no clue what Angel was up to. And really, she ought to, because, hello, evil alter-ego and everything ... maybe I could fix that? She thought, wondering if Angel's curse could be modified for greater permanence.

Angel picked up on the first ring. "Hello?"

She cleared her throat. "Angel. It's Willow."

"... Willow! What's wrong?" He said, without preamble, and with quite a bit of alarm in his voice. She supposed that was a perfectly logical response -- it wasn't like she'd ever called him, or even talked to him, simply for social reasons. In truth, even when he'd lived in Sunnydale, she'd never really talked to him. Not on a daily hey-we're-friends basis, anyway.

As opposed to Spike, who will talk to you whether you like it or not!

She answered his question, "Nothing, I don't think. I'm just trying to track down Spike's cel phone number."

Angel hesitated for one very pregnant pause, then said, "You want Spike's cel phone number. Willow, is something wrong? Because I can help too, you know."

"No, no," she laughed, uneasily. Angel was very low on the list of people they'd call for help -- and she could just hear Giles' reaction, or Xander's, to the thought of Angel fighting with them. At least from Xander, profanity would probably be involved in his response to that idea. And Angel had sounded eager to help. Probably because of Buffy. "No apocalypses looming or anything like that. I'm trying to find Buffy, and I think she might be with Spike."

The silence on the other end of the phone was longer this time. Very flatly he said, "Spike is with Buffy."

"I assume so. I want to make sure."

"Isn't that nice."

"Umm, Angel? Are you okay?"

"I'm going to kill him." It didn't seem like that was addressed to her; it was said almost absently. She heard a girl giggle somewhere in the background -- a giggle that was vaguely familiar. That wasn't Cordy -- Cordy's dead -- maybe -- oh, surely not. The giggle had triggered a memory of certain blond vampire ... ack! I so do not want to know. I'm not even going to ask.

Still -- if that was Harmony, I do need to verify, "Umm -- I am talking to Angel, right, and not Angelus? Because you do know Spike has a soul now, and ..."

"Yes, you're talking to me," Angel said, sounding annoyed by the question. "I'm still going to kill him. He'll just come back anyway. So Buffy is here in LA?"

"Yeah." Angel's reaction -- particularly the grumbled, He'll just come back anyway, had served to reassure her that Angel's soul was still firmly attached and hadn't been lost again. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. While she knew she could put his soul back if necessary, God only knew what sort of havoc Angelus might have created if he'd been running around loose for awhile.

Angel continued, still grumbling, "He's dead. He just doesn't know it yet. He told me he was taking a couple of days off work because he was helping a Slayer with a demon problem. He never said the Slayer was Buffy."

Suddenly, his irritation made a whole lot more sense. With a giggle, she said, "Oh my. And for what it's worth, he was probably talking about Kagome, not Buffy."

Angel just sighed. "I should have expected as much from him. How long has she been in town?"

"Three, four weeks. We've been hunting a bit of a big bad, though I think that's all finished. But Spike only made contact with Buffy about two days ago. We -- we never told her he was alive."

"I imagine Buffy was thrilled with that," Angel said, a bit of censor in his voice. "You didn't think Buffy deserved to know he'd come back?"

"It wasn't my decision," Willow said, defensively.

"I hope you don't try that line of logic on her," Angel sounded disgusted with her. Willow flinched a bit. "Got a pen?"

"Uh, yeah."

He gave her the number. "And tell Buffy I said hello."

Moments later, Spike answered his phone on the first ring, with a surprisingly professional, "This is Spike."

He sounded different -- confident, businesslike, even though it was just three short words. He probably doesn't recognize the phone number. If he's working for Angel, maybe he thinks this might be a client.

"Hey, Spike," Willow said, "It's Willow ..."

"Oh, 'Lo, Red. Did you get my number from Lorne?" He was cheerful, friendly-sounding, and much more informal now.

"Lorne? No, from Angel."

"Ah ... you didn't happen to mention I talked to Buffy to the Boss Puppet, did you?" Spike said, after a moment's hesitation.

Puppet? Where'd that come from? "Afraid so."

"Ah, bloody hell, I'm so dead." Spike laughed. Laughed.

"Well, just tell Buffy I called, 'kay? I just wanted to make sure she was okay. And, uh, have fun. Angel wants you at work first thing tomorrow morning and I'm going to go now because this is embarrassing even talking to you ..." Willow started to hang up, blushing ferociously.

"Woah, hold on a sec, Red. Buffy's not with me!" Spike protested, sounding suddenly alarmed. "I haven't seen her since night before last. You thought we were ..."

"Uh, not with you? Please tell me you're joking, because you do that, right?" Willow reacted to Spike's concern with a sudden stab of fear of her own. If she's not with Buffy, this is not good.

"Buffy's not here." Spike said, grimly. "I haven't seen her. She didn't come home after patrolling?"

"No. She did some research on Inuyasha and then said she was going out ... you don't think she ..." Willow said, then hesitated, "Inuyasha isn't a bad guy, is he?"

Spike snorted. "Depends on your definition of 'bad guy' and who you are."

"I'm going to go talk to them," she announced, without hesitation or much thought. Inuyasha and Kagome certainly had motivation to hurt Buffy, and truthfully, opportunity and ability as well. A Slayer with magic. Damnit, I really wish she was on our side -- she could be a handful if she decides to make trouble. And if she loves Inuyasha like Spike says, hell, she's got plenty of reason to make our lives very difficult.

"Wil, might be best if I ..."

"I am going," she announced. "It's Buffy. If they've done something to her, so help me God, I'll ..." she trailed off, swallowed hard, and said, "Spike? If they've hurt Buffy, I swear to you, they will pay."