Wild Days

Willow:

"And you're sure this is going to work?"

I can't believe Xander really asked me this question. How long does he know me? I shoot him a nasty look and continue mixing different ingredients in the bowl before me.

"Hey," he holds up a hand, gives me what could go for an apologizing smile, "I'm not questioning your skills here. If you were the old Willow, I'd say this is done in the blink of an hour. But - you know - without witchcraft ...," he trails off, suddenly busy inspecting his shoes.

I take a deep breath, try not to drown in the guilt that always threatens to overwhelm me whenever witchcraft is mentioned. Warren's face flashes before me, his eyes full of pain and fear, still hoping I would show mercy, but deep down already knowing it was in vain. I still can't believe I let myself lose control like that, that I just snapped and killed a man. But even now, knowing it was all wrong, the rage is still there, underneath, brewing, I can taste it, and it follows me into my dreams.

Giles says it's in me, that I have to accept it as a part of me rather than denying its existence. That I have to learn how to control it, that knowing it's there is the best way to start. And he says it with such conviction that I'm sure the whole Eygon-deal was only a small part of his former self we've seen so far. As if he knows exactly what's going on inside of me. He told me the urge to control is something that's part of my character, and that I need to embrace it and use it to my advantage, rather than letting it run free and wild. But he also said it would be a long way to go and that I just started a hard and painful journey to my inner self.

My first intention after I calmed down, after I became aware of what I'd done, was to go to the police, to tell them what had happened. But Xander who found me up on the hill wouldn't let me, he argued that the police wouldn't believe me anyway. What was I going to say. 'Sorry, my witchcraft got out of control and I burned a man with the power of my will?' Oh yeah, that would've brought me a straight passage to the loony-bin.

So instead of letting me take the blame, he took me to Buffy's house, not leaving room for discussion. I was ashamed, unable to face my friends, least of all Giles, wanted to hide, but again, Xander forced me to stay and talk to them, and in the end it was the right thing to do. Giles, to my utter surprise, wasn't angry. On the contrary was was the most understanding of all of them - except Xander of course.

In the end, he found Dr. Livingstone for me, a doctor who once intended to become a watcher, but for private reasons became a psychologist instead. She deals with victims of super-natural phenomena and was a great help these past months. I know I still have a long way to go, and I'm still not convinced that I will ever learn to control the urges inside of me, but at least I'm not shaking all the time anymore, and I can go through a day without thinking about spells. Realizing that my hand has stilled with a small vial in the air above the bowel, I sigh, and look at Xander who is staring out of the window. "Witchcraft or no," I say, forcing the word out between my lips, "I was still a chemical genius, if I may remind you." I keep the tone of my voice light, hoping to make him more comfortable.

I'm glad when he looks at me and grins, "Yeah, and you always let me copy your chem-tests."

"That I did," I reply, pouring the contents of the vial to the current mix. As soon as they come in contact, a small cloud of yellow smoke rises from the bowel. "So," I smile at him, not sure if it's the right time to approach this subject, but asking nevertheless, "What about you and Anya?"

He frowns at the question, "What about us?"

"Well," I shrug, add yet another herb to the mix, "you brought her here." I nod at the demon sitting in the lobby of the hotel, looking a little lost. She's talking to Wesley, but she doesn't seem to belong – not anymore.

"Yeah." The word comes out with a long breath, seems forced somehow. "That I did. I'm not even sure why."

"Because you love her?" I suggest. I'm not sure how I feel about that, or felt for that matter. I mean, I've seen that Xander was happy with her, that he smiled a lot when she was around, and I know he hurt her when he just left during their wedding, but I've known him all my life, we've been closer than brother and sister, and the protectiveness I feel for him, that deeply integrated loyalty that somehow seems to be part of my being, rises its head thinking about the way Anya and Spike screwed in front of everyone's eyes - thanks to Warren's surveillance cameras - in the Magic Box.

"Love-," he starts, but can't finish his sentence when Dawn strolls into the kitchen, her nose scrunched in disgust.

"Watcha doing?" she asks, then sniffs the air like a dog searching for his favorite treat, "Ewwww, this stinks."

"The good stuff always does," Xander jokes, giving her a wink, trying to appear unruffled and cool, but I can see his hands tremble slightly, and I wonder what he was about to tell me.

The Slayer's sister comes to stand beside me, craning her neck to look over my shoulder, " What is this?"

"This is a cocktail of chemical components to find out what's in a person's body," I explain, reaching for some leaves. Somehow, strangely, the fact that it seems like witchcraft what I'm doing, and still isn't, is soothing, and I know Tara would be proud to see me now. I almost smile at the thought, but the grief of knowing she is gone forever is more than I can bear. I wonder if it will ever go away, then feeling guilty of thinking that way, I put the leaves into the mix, and start crushing them furiously. How can I even consider forgetting about her?

"In a person's body?" Dawn frowns slightly.

"Uh-huh," I tell her, keeping my thoughts on the mix, trying to keep guilt and grief at bay. My friends need me now, I cannot let this overpower me. I let them down once, almost killed them all, I can't let it happen again. They've given me a second chance, they trust me, and I will show them that they did the right thing. "Yeah, we're checking Angel's blood, his hair, his skin .. you know ... it's a whole," I have to frown myself, "checking-thing," I settle finally in lack of a better expression."

"Angel's?" she asks, her eyes flickering to Xander, then back to me. "Uh ...does a vampire have his own blood?"

"Not really, no," I answer, reaching for the small vial holding Angel's hair, blood, particles of his skin, "but he's been down at the bottom of the sea for months. So the blood has been cursing through his body for a while. It's as good as his - at least in theory. But we have his hair and skin, so ... this should be pretty safe." I give her a slight smile before pouring the contents of the vial over the mix, which instantly changes it's color to green.

"Wow, that is so cool," Dawn comments in awe, then gasps when after another moment, the color changes yet again, this time to purple. "Oh, wow," she breathes. "Xander, isn't that ... just-"

"Wow, yeah, I know," he says, grinning at us. When we glare at him, he holds up a hand, "Hey, I think it's great and all. I never said it wasn't."

"Uh-huh," I reply, scooping a small amount of the mass onto a glass and put it under the microscope, squeezing one eye shut to take a closer look - and gasp in shock at the sight before me.

I fee Xander coming up behind me, then feel his familiar touch when his hand comes to lay on my shoulder, "What is it?"

"Guys," I turn to my friends, then point at the microscope, "can anyone of you please call Giles and Wesley. I think they need to see this, too."

*****

Gunn:

I look at the kid walking beside me, his shoulders hunched, his head bowed in shame, and I'm still not sure what to think of him. Should I be angry with him for what he did to Angel, or should I pat him on the shoulder, make him feel better somehow? I feel uncomfortable around him now, and I deeply resent feeling that way.

Over the past three months we managed to created some kind of weird relationship, half-brotherly, half-friendly. After the initial annoyance of having a kid trailing me day in and out, I found myself surprised by his fighting skill. He could more than just hold his own in a fight, and after a while I became downright comfortable with him.

Fred liked him from the start, I think a part of her still saw the tiny baby in him, the little boy who caused her motherly instincts to go on overdrive. Gotta admit it made my skin itch uncomfortable at times. Didn't want her to get ideas of settling down and nesting - at least not quite so soon. I love her and all, and I think she's damn beautiful with that smile of hers and the way her nose twitches when she's thinking too hard ... But having babies and stuff ...

Anyways. She was the one who made me ask him to come with me tonight, pointed out that he looked *depressed*. Which is true, of course, but a big part of me thinks he should. Locking his good old dad into a box and letting it sink to the bottom of the sea...

The weird thing is, in a way I can relate. He hates vampires, and so do I. Angel - well, that's the one exception, and it was hard enough to get myself wrapped around that concept. So I can understand why this is hard on Connor, the idea of a vampire not only doing good, but also being his father. It's gotta be a hard pill to swallow, and with all the boy told me, the way Holtz raised him, indoctrinated him, so nothing short of a miracle that he isn't totally screwed up. But what's hard for me to face and forgive is that he played us. He gave the mourning son, grief-stricken by los loss of his father who had disappeared to places unknown. He watched us searching for Angel, even pretended to help, and all the time it was a lie. Sure, I can see where he came from, he thought the vampire - his natural father – had killed the adopted one, but I can't help the little voice in my head whispering not to trust him ever again.

Which once again brings me back to all the nights he was tagging along, fighting at my side, even saving my neck once or twice, and the relationship we developed over the weeks. I remember the way he raised a fist after he killed his first really ugly demon, and the big grin that spread over his face, making his usually too serious face look young and innocent. I remember finding him with Fred, drinking tea, telling her stories about his childhood, the way he learned to fight.

And I see him now, walking silently, the heavy thoughts in his head almost palpable in the air, the guilt surrounding him almost as thick as his father's. There is nothing in him of that boy now, suddenly he seems mature far beyond his age, even more than usual.

"You don't have to be nice to me," he says suddenly pulling me back from my thoughts.

I can see he is watching me from the corner of his eye, a frown marring his face. "Didn't plan to," I reply, my voice unusually gruff, trying to figure out what's going on in his head.

"Good," he nods, but it's more to himself. "Sinners have to be punished."

Completely taken aback by this strange statement I stop, staring at his back, "What the Hell is that supposed to mean?"

He makes two more steps before he stops, but doesn't turn around, "Didn't you read your bible?"

No, I didn't, I want to tell him. When you're trying to find a way not to starve, not to get shot, or eaten by a vamp, God and the Bible are the last things on your mind. But somehow it doesn't seem the time and place for a longish discussion, so I keep quiet instead, telling him without words, I'm listening.

"You didn't, huh?" he says finally, turning around to face me. His eyes are dark and serious and so much like Angel's, it's like a kick to my gut. I wonder if Angel even knows how much his estranged son resembles him. "Well," he shrugs, "It's not really important. But I did. Holtz made me read it. He said it was for the salvation of my soul." He laughs harshly, almost bitterly, and I feel a rush of sympathy for him, I didn't think I could after what he's done.

"Pretty heavy stuff for a kid," I comment, not quite sure how to respond to that.

"Nah," he shakes his head, "Most of the time it wasn't that bad. Some stories are pretty good, actually. But at some times it made my head spin. And Holtz was really hung up on all the sin and punishment stuff. You know, sinners have to pay for their sins." He sighs, runs a hand through his shaggy hair, "Killing someone is the worst sin of all. And I ... I tried to kill my father."

I see him swallow, and blink several times, and realize he's fighting tears. Torn between wanting to comfort him, or to hit him, I land somewhere in the middle, my voice even more gruff than before. "Yeah, well, I killed my sister," I tell him, almost against my will. I never mentioned Alanna with him, not wanting to discuss the fact that because I didn't pay attention the sweetest soul on this earth ended up being turned into the very same monster I was fighting day in and day out.

Connor's eyes widen at the revelation, and he studies me for a long moment, before he asks, "What happened?"

"She ...," I have to clear my throat, even after almost three years, the wound is still raw and easy to bleed again, "was turned into a vampire. I staked her."

"You didn't stake your sister," he replies instantly, "it wasn't her that-," he stops himself, heaving a weary sigh, something that shouldn't come from the mouth of a sixteen year old boy. Another wave of sympathy hits me, makes me feel for the kid who was probably never allowed to be one. "I suppose you know that already," he says. "Holtz told me that when the demon takes possession of the body, the person is gone forever. But now ... I ... I look at my father ... and ... I wonder."

"Because he is still a demon?" Isn't that the same question I've asked myself time and again, at the beginning when I almost killed Angel, when I found it hard to believe that a demon and a human soul could harbor the same shell? That someone who is dark and evil at the core, can still be trustworthy and good?

"Yeah," Connor admits, looking at me squarely. "Is it really possible? It goes against everything I've learned. Can a soul really made such a difference?"

"I'd say your dad is the living proof," I tell him, "I didn't believe in him either. I had a hard time ... letting myself trust him. But in the end ... I had to accept that there's more than just black and white. That sometimes a lighter shade of gray can be just as good and up to a certain degree even better. Besides," I feel my lips turn up into the slightest hint of a smile, "If you're around in this world for a while you'll learn that pure white can be boring as Hell."

He looks at me long and hard, and I see his eyes shift, can almost see the wheels in his mind turning, before he nods, and starts walking again. But suddenly he stops one more time, peers at me over his shoulder, "Gray, huh?"

I nod, giving him another smile, winking at him. "Yeah, not a bad color."

"I think I have to get used to it," he replies, not returning my smile, "But I think it's a concept I can live with."

He starts to walk again and after a moment I follow, watching his long strides carrying him through the night, and realize that forgiving him might not be as hard as I expected it to be.

******

Dawn:

I enter the room slowly and as quietly as possible, walking on tip toe, but Buffy still raises her head and blinks at me sleepily, while Angel doesn't stir at all. They look so right together, even if Buffy is totally dishevelled, and Angel looks like the living death, but hey, nothing new there. I mean Angel is dead, right? And Buffy did look worse, for example when she came back from the grave. Frowning at my own morbid thoughts **fifteen year olds usually don't think about death**, I force myself to look at my sister.

"Hey," I whisper and try to smile. "How are you?"

She yawns, then stretches, carefully not to disturb the vampire beside her. "A little tired," she replies, returning my smile. But it looks forced and weary on her, as if it doesn't belong. "Where is Connor?"

"He left with Gunn about two hours ago. They had a call from a client, and Connor ... he's kind of ... good looking, huh?"

"Dawn," she says in that voice that means 'don't even think about it' and I giggle, "Just kidding. He's way to serious for me. And he speaks ... funny sometimes. Besides I thought Spike's a lot cooler."

"Oh God," she groans, rolling her eyes, but not commenting it. Maybe she has realized I'm just teasing her. I mean, not that I don't think Spike's attractive, but he slept with my sister. And that's kind of a big no-no with an ewww on top of it. Plus the whole rape-thing. "What gives?" she asks, slowly sitting up on the bed, trying to run her fingers through her hair, which is totally messed up. One of Angel's hands lies on her thigh, as if seeking a connection.

"Willow and Giles want to talk to you," I inform her, keeping my voice down. "They ... Willow did some research with the stuff from Angel and ... they found out something."

Her brows furrow, "What did they find?"

I sigh loudly, "They didn't tell me. Nobody ever tells me anything. They're all still treating me like a kid."

"That's because you are one," comes her instant reply, and I scowl at her.

"I am not. I am fifteen. When you were that age you were called. Besides ...I'm the key. Or was. Doesn't that count for anything?" I give her my best pout but of course she isn't interested at all.

"Uh-huh," is all she replies. She carefully removes Angel's hand from her leg. "Can you stay with him while I'm gone?" she asks, getting up.

"You mean, like ... taking care of him?" I gulp feeling strangely giddy at the question. She trusts me with Angel, who is pretty important in her life - or at least was - and, well ... doesn't that mean she thinks I'm someone she can trust?

"Just look out for him. If something happens, if he wakes up, call me."

"Okay," I nod. I can do that. How hard can it be, plus Angel is really cool. And I feel kind of bad for him for being dumped on the bottom of the sea by his own kid. I'd give everything to get my mom back and Connor just tries to kill his father. Okay, so mom wasn't a vampire, and I wasn't brought up to hate her, but still. I mean, Angel is still Connor's father.

Doesn't that mean anything to him?

My father always finds some business trip more important than us. Maybe I should tell Connor about that. Maybe it will show him how happy he should be having someone like Angel. Is it really so important that he's a vampire? I wonder. I mean, yeah, sure, he left Sunnydale because of the vampire thing, but I always thought Angel ... If I'm completely honest I have to admit that I had a little crush on him.

But thinking of it ... I had a little crush on Riley ... and on Spike ...

I frown.

Hard.

It's kind of sick, isn't it? They were all my big sister's boyfriends. Well, technically, Spike wasn't ... but you get my point. On the other hand my crushes on Angel and Riley never really existed, they are memories created by the monks ... and that suddenly makes me wonder about them ...

Sighing at the weirdness of all, I sit down at the edge of the bed, looking at Angel's unmoving form. At least he's breathing now, which - in my eyes - makes him a little less dead. Or rather a little more human. When he started coming to our house, at night, climbing through Buffy's window, I thought it was uber-cool. Of course at that time I had no idea he was a vampire, or that my sister didn't simply leave the house at night for some heavy kissing, but to save the world.

Angel suddenly murmurs something in his sleep, and his hand moves over the sheet as if seeking for something.

Buffy!

He is trying to get in touch with Buffy again - or that's what I hope. But there can't be any other explanation. He was comfortable before, and now he gets more restless by the moment. Tentatively I reach out, touching his hand, and startle a little when he grasps it, holding it surprisingly firm in his. Again he murmurs, but it's too faint for me to understand, and I see his eyes moving restless under his closed lids.

"It's okay, Angel," I whisper, stroking his hand with my thumb, feeling weird at doing so, but also good somehow. "Buffy's outside. She needs to talk to Giles for a moment. She'll be back, I promise." I'm not sure he even understands what I'm saying, but the words seem to calm him because his grip on my hand loosens a little and he sighs in his sleep.

And I wonder how anyone can think he loves Cordelia when Buffy's name alone makes him look so peaceful.

*****

Fred:

I see Willow shifting nervously from one foot to the other, casting nervous glances towards the stairs where she's expecting Buffy to come down any moment now. Wesley doesn't look more comfortable either. "What?" I ask impatiently.
"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Willow replies quickly, "Well, not nothing, but ... But … you know we took some samples from Angel. From his skin, his hair. And I analyzed it."

"And you found ... something bad?" I feel my insides churn at the thought. What could it be? A rare poison? Some mysterious vampire disease - maybe not curable? Is Angel going to die? Or suffer even more than he has already?

Once again, Willow exchanges a nervous look with Wesley and Buffy's Watcher, the man they call Giles. "Depends," she says hesitantly.

I have to bite my tongue not to scream. "Depends?"

"Uh-huh," she nods.

She stops and I think I'm going to explode, "Tell me," I order, surprised at my own behavior. I'm usually not the demanding type. Feeling uncomfortable at the way they suddenly look at me, I avert my gaze, studying my shoes instead. Not that they are even remotely interesting. "Sorry," I mumble.

"Well," I hear Giles voice, liking the warmth in it, the understanding. No wonder, Buffy didn't like the idea of having him replaced by Wesley. Not that I don't like Wesley anyway, although I'm still trying to come to terms with what he's done, but I actually used to like him a lot. Almost as much as Gunn. But I can also feel the warmth in Giles, and tru trust he seems to awake in everyone, the strength his mere presence seems to give. He is a bit like my dad that way.

He smiles at me, although I can see it's slightly strained, "We should wait for Buffy. I'm sure she'll be...," he trails off when in the same moment the Slayer descends the stairs, her face exhausted, but somehow more peaceful at the same time. "Ah, Buffy," he looks at the young woman and a fatherly warmth enters his eyes. "We were just waiting for you. Can we assume Angel is well?"

"He's sleeping," she replies, combing a weary hand to her blond strands, "I left Dawn with him. So, what gives?"

"As you know Willow took some samples from Angel's hair, his skin, some drops of his blood," Wesley starts, his face all Watcher. I used to think that look was a little bit sexy - once, before Gunn's killer smile swept me right off my feet. "And she analyzed it. Thoroughly."

"I know that already," Buffy retorts, her voice tinged with impatience. I don't know a lot about their relationship, but I have a feeling it wasn't the best.

"Yes, well," Giles clears his throat, "Initially Willow was searching for ... side-effects of his enforced stay under water, his starvation ... something help improve his current state ... to make him heal even faster than he does already."

"Uh-huh," Buffy says, then tilts her head, tapping her foot on the ground. "Can we skip the pre-show, Giles, just come to the point, will you."

"Okay, so I mixed the samples with some herbs and chemical components," Willow explains, stepping up to her friend, "and took a closer look." Her gaze flickers to Wesley, who nods. "It seems," she continues, "that Angel was drugged."

"Drugged?" What does she mean? Who drugged him? And more importantly why? I feel my heart start pounding in my chest. Hasn't Wesley told me once an actress drugged Angel and brought back his demon? What if the half-starved vampire up there isn't really Angel?

"Drugged?" Buffy echoes my question, but the word comes a lot sharper from her mouth. "What the Hell does that mean? And more importantly who drugged him?"

"Yeah, good question," Xander, the young man I'm not sure what to think about, comes up behind the Slayer. "Not wanting to seem overly nervous, but I'm *so* not looking forward to meeting Angel's evil self again."

"I don't think-," Willow starts, but is cut off by Buffy's suddenly firm voice, "He is Angel."

"Uhm ...," Xander looks uncomfortable for a moment, but then he faces the Slayer squarely, "And how ... would you know?"

"I know," is all she answers, giving him a certain look that makes him avert his eyes and cough slightly.

"Okay," Buffy gazes back at Willow, "now that we've established that. Can we get to the point now, please. What exactly was done to Angel?"

"We can only guess, Buffy," Willow says, "The stuff they used is a combination between a personality altering chemical essence and an …," she blushes slightly before she goes on, "an aphrodisiac."

The Slayer stares at her for a moment, as the words are slowly sinking in, "Personality altering - okay, I can get that. But who would deliberately try to-," she stops, a frown appearing on her forehead, "Oh, you mean the lawyers again?"

"Well, from what Wesley told us," Giles takes his glasses off and starts rubbing them at the hem of his shirt, a gesture I know very well from Wesley. It almost makes me want to smile. Is this an English thing? Or something watchers do? I blink when Giles goes on, "I think it's entirely possible that they might have tried to influence Angel. They made several attempts to ... shall we say pull him to their side. So far without positive results. A drug is the next logical step."

"All the old prophecies," Wesley explains, "say that Angel will play a pivotal role in the final battle. But none of them offers any information on which side."

"You mean that he could be either bad or good?" I ask, trying to get all the information into my head. And then it hits me, I remember Cordelia telling me about the whole happiness-clause problem. "You mean someone drugged Angel so that he would … you know, lose his soul. Which given the fact that the drugs included an aphrodisiac ...," I realize everyone is staring at me, and trail off self-consciously "Sorry, just thinking aloud."

"That's what we're guessing," Willow gives me a warm smile, reaching for a sheet. "It seems Wolfram & Hart," she hands Buffy the paper. The Slayer looks at it and I can almost see the anger sparkling in her eyes, "made Angel to one of their special projects," the redhead goes on, "The fact that they want him to stay alive is also something we have to consider. As far as Wesley told me, he made their life more than just a little complicated. So why not just kill him and get it over with? But no, they don't. They even executed two of their employees who sent an assassin after him. It all adds up, Buffy. They drugged him, hoping he would lose his soul." She stops for a moment, then adds, "With a woman."

At that Buffy gasps, staring at her friend, "You mean..."

Willow nods, "Yes, that's exactly what I'm guessing." She suddenly smiles, "Wolfram & Hart somehow managed to apply a drug to Angel's system, altering his behavior and making him fall for a woman. Cordelia. Whatever happened between them, it was never real."