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Healing Wounds	By : Sylver Category: Anita Blake > Crossovers > AB/BtVS Views: 5402 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Anita Blake series, nor BtVS. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Willow waited for Meng-Die to return with some clothing, wrapped in a sheet, shifting nervously from one foot to another. She thought about trying to make small talk, but knowing her tendency to babble, she didn’t want to risk it. First of all, the blonde man was already smirking at her and she didn’t really want to give him further amusement, but mostly she didn’t want to give off the appearance of weakness in front of the small dark woman. It sounded silly, but there was something about this Anita woman that scared her, and it wasn’t the gun. There was just something about her unwavering gaze that told Willow that she meant business. She had seen that same look on Buffy’s face many times, and in the end, weapons or not, the bad guys always got dead. Just looking into this woman’s eyes, she could tell that like Buffy, she was a killer.

Thankfully, Meng-Die soon returned with a pair of black jeans and a red polo T-shirt. It really wasn’t a good color for the girl, clashing with her red hair, but desperate naked girls can’t be choosers. Willow was about to discard her sheet when she realized the blonde guy, Jason, was still watching, his grin growing by the second at her obvious discomfort.

“It’s no big if you need to keep an eye on me, but can you at least have your friend turn around, please?” Willow asked hopefully.

Anita seemed to consider the request for a moment, and then without diverting her gaze, removed her gun from her holster, allowing it to rest in her hand by her side. “You heard the lady, Jason, turn around.”

“Aww man, no fair,” Jason pouted, but did as he was told.

Willow dressed quickly, wishing the woman had brought her undergarments, but still happy to be covered. Soon she was being led down a long stone hallway and into a large room with white wall hangings and white and gold furniture. It was stylish, but not really her taste. It did, however, perfectly suit the dark haired man that was lounging almost regally on the white couch before her. He gestured for her to sit on a nearby chair, giving her an appraising look.

“Well, it seems ma petite’s clothes fit you nicely. Is there anything else I can offer you, food, drink?” Jean-Claude asked with a smile, his tone warm, but Willow noticed the warmth did not reach his eyes. His gaze was purely cold and calculating.

“No. Thank you really, but I’d just like to find my friend if you don’t mind,” Willow replied politely.

“Oui, of course, but first I was hoping you could answer some questions for me, starting with who you are.”

“Oh, yeah, my name’s Willow, Willow Rosenberg,” she began, but then hesitated, wondering how much she should tell these people. Jean-Claude seemed to sense her concerns and decided to do hist tot to alleviate them.

“Well, Miss Rosenberg, my name is Jean-Claude, and I am the master of this city…”

“And what city exactly is this?” Willow interrupted, catching him off guard.

“St. Louis, but of course.”

“And you are the ‘master’ of St. Louis?”

“Oui.”

“And is that like an appointed gig, or…” her voice trailed off as a realization hit her, “Vampire.”

“Again you are correct. Now if you could please tell me why you have entered my territory without my permission?”

“No, this isn’t right! Spike was supposed to be in another dimension, not just a couple states over,” Willow began to ramble, hopping up from her seat and pacing the floor in front of him, unaware of the more cautious stance Anita had adopted. She didn’t know who this girl was or why she was here, but she wouldn’t hesitate to shoot her if she made one false move. Jean-Claude could sense her tension through the marks, his own apprehension rising as well, as he tried to focus on what the now irate woman was saying. “I mean if all I had to do was drive to St. Louis, then why was it so difficult to find him. And then there was the spell to get here, you have no idea how awful that was…” All the other occupants seemed to perk up slightly, their attention drawn to her last words. “So, now I’m here in St. Louis with a master vampire…who hasn’t tried to bite me yet…why haven’t you tried to bite me?”

“Why would I?”

“Because it’s what vamps do. You know, biting, feeding, killing…”

“You are talking about murder? I do not feed on the unwilling. There is no need with my pomme de sang here,” he replied, clearly affronted.

“Pomme de sang…hmm…apple of blood?” Willow asked, not noticing that he had taken offense at her words.

“Parle vous francais?”

“Oui, tres peu, but I’m really much better with Latin and about half a dozen demon languages…”

It happened almost too quickly to be seen. Willow was rambling away, but the moment the word ‘demon’ came out of her mouth, she found herself flat on her back with the barrel of a gun pointing in her face. You would think that as much time as she had spent with Buffy that she would have seen the leg sweep coming, but she didn’t. She could however see the very large gun in her face.

“W-What are you doing?” Willow asked with a slight tremble in her voice.

“At the moment, trying to decide the best place to shoot you,” Anita replied without an ounce of emotion. She had already gone to that quiet place she went to when she killed.

“I didn’t know it was such a sin to speak French badly,” Willow said, regaining her composure. She didn’t want trouble with these obviously unbalanced people.

“Don’t be cute, I hate cute. We both know that the marks on your body ared tod to protect a person from powerful magical forces, and you just admitted you speak not one, but six demon languages. Add in the fact that you just appeared here in Jean-Claude’s inner sanctum, and I would say it’s a pretty safe bet that whoever you are, you’re up to no good. Now, either you start talking, and tell us exactly what you are doing here, or I start giving you new breathing holes.”

“I. Told. You. I’m. Looking. For. My. Friend.” Willow said through pursed lips.

“You mean that creature that calls himself a vampire, but changes like a shifter?” Jean-Claude asked, carefully gauging her response for any clue as to what the pair might be up to. What he was not expecting was her look of utter confusion.

“Umm, no, I mean Spike, and yeah he’s a vampire…or at least he used to be before he turned to dust, but now he’s here somewhere. I don’t know what you want from me, but I demand you take me to him right now, and while you’re at it either shoot me or get that stupid gun out of my face,” Willow replied, her growing anger making her tendency to ramble worse.

“I don’t think you are really in a position to be making demands,” Jean-Claude said calmly.

“Enough of this,” Willow said, starting to rise, her eyes becoming an inky black. “Aufero!”

Anita was caught off guard as she flew through the air, hitting the wall with a great ‘umph’. Instantly she was back on her feet and firing at the redhead, but Willow simply raised her hand with a slight wave and a muttered word, and the bullets stopped in mid-air, inches from her body. With another wave they fell to the floor. ‘The Matrix doesn’t have anything on me,’ she thought absently, as the remaining occupants of the room rushed toward her, wanting to get the situation back under control.

“Constringo!” she called out, and watched as all of them now found themselves glued to the wall as if invisible chains were holding them in place. “Now look, I don’t want to be rude, but I’ve tried being nice and all I’m getting here is a runaround. So, let me just say that you have no idea what I’ve gone through to get here, and frankly it’s making me a little cranky. You don’t want me to get cranky. Now, be a good li gro group of vampires, or whatever the hell you are, AND TELL ME WHERE SPIKE IS!!!”

“He’s in a box,” Jean-Claude replied.

To be continued…
- 4
- 5
- 6
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Healing Wounds