Come Undone: Chapter 2
by claudia6913
Chapter 2

"Why do you continue to search for this girl?” Illyria asked. Once again, they were in a dingy hotel, the windows carefully curtained to block out the sun, the carpet threadbare. She looked around, noting how similar they were starting to look with the pastels long faded by the sun in certain spots, and the stains covering just about everything. She would never have put up with this if she had still had her godhead. It was beneath her even now, but she put up with it...for now.

"'Ve told you," Spike said. He sat at a small table, that was probably supposed to be a breakfast nook or the semblance of one, and studied a map.

Spike had been searching for Willow for months now. He had considered going to Giles, or even Buffy, but he did not think either one of them would have told him anything. Besides, it had been Dawn who had asked him, begged, and pleaded with him to find her. It had been almost two years since they had seen or heard from her and Dawn was worried. She had told Spike about Kennedy, about Willow’s utter grief and then her eventual disappearance.

Death was never pretty, that much Spike knew. He had handed it out over the years, over and over again, and not once was it a masterpiece or a thing of beauty. And, to lose not just one, but two people you loved...he couldn't imagine. How, though, could she just cut herself off like that? It didn't seem like her, or at least, not like the Willow Spike remembered.

"Yes, but I do not believe you. There is more to this, I think, than you are saying."

"That right," Spike said, getting irritated. "Why do you bloody well insist on taggin' along, then?"

"You amuse me."

"Well, this circus is closed. Bloody shove off, yeah? Not 'ere for your amusement."

"I do not wish to leave."

"Argh!" Spike cried out, shoving out of his seat and up to the blue god herself. She was maddening at times, hilarious at others, and even at times sweet, but right now, she was just pissing him off.

"I stay not just because you amuse me," Illyria said, trying for truth. His reaction was a bit surprised, but he hid it quickly enough with indifference. This was beginning to tire quickly for her. He guarded his emotions so closely that they were actually visible to all. He loved the girl he sought, whether he knew it or not.

"Whatever. Stay, go...don't care 'nymore."

"You care too much, vampire. More than you were meant to care. I do not know how you survive with so much raw emotion sitting in the open such as it is," Illyria said, cocking her head to the side just a bit. She searched his face, his eyes. Over the past few years, she had gotten to know Spike. He had fought for her when Angel and Gunn had deemed her useless, he had argued for her when they refused to allow her take Wesley's watch. He had kept them from attempting to destroy her completely.

No one had understood her need of the watch; no one understood why that object, if nothing else. Spike had, though. He had understood without needing to ask, had known without knowing a thing.

Illyria realized a while ago that she owed this vampire something, if not her life, then her friendship at least. He had given up much when he stood against Angel and the human. Illyria did not understand why Spike had stayed with them. They were worthless, selfish, and unworthy of him, but he had stayed, despite her protests and arguments.

"Why are you here? Why do you bloody keep following me? What is it you are lookin' for? What is it you expect from me?" Spike asked, falling back into his chair. He was tired and stressed. He did not hate Illyria, and actually, he did not mind her tagging along. It was her questions, her need to know things she did not quite understand yet. Usually he sat and tried to explain concepts to her, but tonight he lacked the energy required for it and he was taking his anger and frustration out on her. He tried to calm down, taking a few unneeded breaths. It was not Illyria's fault, and more often than not, she helped him out, made him think through things more thoroughly.

"I do not know," Illyria answered simply, truthfully. She stood over him, not imposing, but not moving either. This...fascination of his with the girl, Willow, was something she did not understand.

"You know," Spike said, a sardonic smile curving the side of his lips. "You always know, don't you? Always know what you’re doin', why you’re doin' it, even if you don't understand it."

"Yes, this is true," Illyria said, nodding shortly. "I follow you because I do not understand your quest for this girl."

"Join the club, Pet," Spike said, laughing at himself.

"Now it is you who lies."

"We're even then," Spike said, turning back to the map. This was a conversation he did not want to have with himself, let alone the blue god. For right now, the fact that Dawn had asked him herself, was enough. That she feared for Willow's life, that she cared for the woman she considered a sister...it was all he needed right now to justify this search.

The call he had gotten, or rather, the call Angel had gotten from Dawn had been a surprise to say the least. Especially since Spike had answered the phone. It had seemed the Watcher had not deemed his coming back to life worthy enough to tell Dawn, or anyone else it had seemed.

It had taken nearly an hour, and much pacing by Angel, to get Dawn to calm down enough to tell them why she had called. Angel had been more than upset when Dawn requested she talk to Spike, to ask him directly. When Angel would not hand over the phone, Dawn demanded, and even when that did not work, she threatened with Buffy. A low blow, true, but Spike could feel himself flush with pride...and just a little guilt. But mostly pride. He was pleased to find that Dawn had grown beautifully, despite being a key and not having been born, but forged.

"It does not appear as though she wishes to be found," Illyria said, now sitting on the creaky bed. She sat as though that were the last place she wanted to, and honestly, it was, but she was there and had to make do.

"She probably doesn't," Spike said, tracing a finger over the map. He'd gotten a lead the other day from a semi-reliable source. Willow was a powerful witch, and even shielded, she still managed to send off warning signals within the vampire.

Spike recalled the feel of her power after his trip to Africa. She was almost a beacon, too powerful to ignore, too dangerous to approach. It was an odd mixture that constantly left him feeling unbalanced whenever he was near her. That, if nothing else, had him steering clear of her whenever possible.

"Yet you search for anyway, possibly against her wishes. That is illogical," Illyria said, watching Spike closely. She saw the stress this situation caused him, but she did not see that moment as a good time to stop her questioning. He would not stop for her, so she would not stop for him.

"You loved him," Spike said, watching her fondle the watch on her wrist. It was oversized and clearly a man's watch, but she wore it, constantly.

"That was not an emotion I felt towards him," Illyria said. She pulled her hand off the watch. The vampire's words ringing through her.

"Wasn't askin', Luv," Spike said knowingly.

"The shell loved him, she cared for him." The words were spoken blandly, with as little emotion as possible. Illyria felt that emotions as strong as love, grief, and guilt were nothing more than tools of a person's demise, human or otherwise. She did not want to perish, so, such things were hidden, and hidden well. She had never told anyone that Wesley's watch had stopped at the exact moment of his death, or that it was with that hand that he had caressed the cheek of the shell's form.

"And you feel it still?"

"Not as much as before, when he was alive."

"Then why the watch? Seems you'd only want that if you felt something for him."

"Love is a weakness and I am not weak. Wesley was good to me and this watch stopped at the time of his death. He was noble."

"You've a lot to learn if you think love's a weakness."

"And where has it gotten you, vampire?” Illyria asked, motioning around them. The dirty hotel showed even more gruesome it seemed just by merely mentioning it.

"Never said it was easy."


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