The Northern Lights

 

Chapter One

 

àààà

 

The bus crashed through yet another pothole, jolting Willow awake and she shifted on her seat, trying to get comfortable enough to once more fall asleep while the bus continued its journey.  Through half closed eyes, she risked a quick peep at her fellow passengers.  There was a great hulk of a man, whose sheer mass and completely shaved head made it impossible to class him to an age. Mind you the mass of tattoos that covered his body didn’t help either and the ‘love’ ‘hate’ inked fingers didn’t exactly invite friendly conversation during which one could inquire of his age.  Willow had conned onto that when he’d boarded the bus at the same time as she had in Edmonton, his whole attitude was that of a loner…or someone who had recently been released from prison. Either way she avoided making eye contact with him, not that that was a problem since he was currently sprawled across the bus’ bench seat further down the aisle, sound asleep and snoring loudly.  There was only one other passenger apart from the assumed ex-felon.  A young blond man, dressed in denim and flannel with a cowboy hat and matched with sharp pointed boots.  He too had started his trip at Edmonton with a large bag of barley sugar, which was now practically empty, a scattering of the wrappers lay strewn about the aisle as he stared absentmindedly out the window. 

 

Giving up on the possibility of slipping back to sleep, Willow took a deep breath and stretched her cramped muscles as she sat up straight.  Glancing towards the window, she wondered what exactly the young guy was staring at, after all it was pitch black outside already and there were no lights on the road.  Frowning she peered into the darkness, there weren’t even any lights from houses.  There was nothing.

 

Willow was getting use to that, though.  She’d left Sunnydale almost six weeks ago and had zigzagged her way across a number of states, leaving an easily traceable paper trail of train tickets, bus tickets, hotel registrations and ATM transactions.  She had waited for them to find her, for a knock on her door and being asked to come home, for some type of confrontation, for an argument where she was told she was wrong.  But there had been nothing.  Willow couldn’t exactly remember where she’d been when she’d decided on the finality of her situation, that no one was coming after her.   It had been simple after that; she’d buy a ticket, get on a bus or train and stay on, pretending to fall asleep until the last stop or wherever she felt like getting off.  The wide-eyed and tear-filled excuse of “oh no, I must have fallen asleep and missed my stop” generally worked with anyone who got narky and it certainly helped to make her limited resources stretch further.   She had smartened up as the money started to run out, buying passes that gave her unlimited travel for periods of time and catching buses or trains that traveled through the night ensuring at least shelter and warmth.

 

Warmth was something she was craving, especially since heading north.  It was meant to be spring, admittedly only early spring, but to a girl born and raised in sunny California the northern states seemed to be still stuck in the depths of winter.  The few clothes she’d bought with her from Sunnydale were lacking in any substantial warmth and so in some northern city on a particularly bitter day she’d found her way into a second hand clothes store, where most of the tacky clothes on the racks smelt of mothballs and mould, but she’d stumbled across an old and lovingly crafted, shearling hooded coat.  It was long, coming down to a few inches above her ankles, and the soft suede was supple, while the delicate soft wool lining made it delightfully warm.  It was also at a price she could afford.  So while not exactly fashionable, the coat was everything she needed. She barely took it off, even now she was grateful for its warmth, snuggling back into the warm wool as the bus began to slow down and a few lights shone through the darkness.

 

The bus lurched, the gears crunching as they were shifted down so the vehicle could negotiate a corner.  It was enough of a movement to wake the apparent ex-felon and he grumbled in his seat, farting loudly and belching at the same time.  Willow grimaced as the repugnant odor wafted up the aisle and shot him a disgusted look before returning to staring out of the window.  The bus continued to twist and turn about the few corners that made up the town, even so there was really nothing to see in the darkness.  Perhaps a few largish, nondescript buildings with their lights on, but nothing else, no cars, no people, just an all consuming darkness. 

 

Willow slouched back against her seat, wondering exactly where she was.  She had a vague idea, she’d studied the map back in Edmonton of her bus route, perhaps this was Grimshaw, or even High Level.  She knew they couldn’t be out of Alberta yet. Although maybe they were, kind of like when she’d crossed the border from America to Canada ~ she’d had no idea at the time, she’d simply walked over the border on a rare warm day.  In the morning she’d been in Minnesota, by the afternoon she was in Ontario, heading up to Thunder Bay.  From there she’d traveled west to Winnipeg in Manitoba and on to Regina, Saskatchewan, before heading up highway 16 through Saskatoon and on to Edmonton in Alberta.  In Edmonton she had fooled around with the idea of going to Yellowknife, but a name had caught her eye on the various bus routes and their destinations ~ Dawsons Creek.  Of course it was silly, deciding your destination based on a television show ~ there would be no Joey, Dawson or even a Pacey in the town that was situated in the Rocky Mountains of British Columbia, but it had appealed to her and so she’d bought a ticket, walked along the bus bays to find her bus and then gone to freshen up and grab a bite to eat before boarding.

 

The brakes screeched and the bus came to a shuddering halt, sending Willow flying off her seat and hitting the one in front of her with enough force to wind her. 

 

“Yer fuckin’ idjit!” yelled the probable ex-felon, picking himself off the floor and dusting himself down.  He was glaring at the bus-driver, who seemed unperturbed by the outburst of his most foreboding passenger. 

 

“This is it, folks,” he snarled, slamming his open hand into the lever that opened the doors.  “Everybody out.”

 

Willow waited, slouching down in her seat until the other two passengers in front of her collected their bags from the overhead racks, then, once they were both heading down the aisle, she stood and made to follow, picking up her small backpack and slinging it over her shoulder.  As she stepped out of the bus, a cold blast of wind hit her, almost making her stumble with its force and she had to struggle to step away from the stairs as the driver also exited. 

 

“This is Dawsons Creek?” Willow muttered in disbelief as she stood in the large barren yard with the wind blowing wildly.

 

“Nope,” said the bus-driver, carefully locking up the battered and muddied vehicle behind him. That was all Willow heard as the freezing wind whipped about her, the howling cold tore at his words and carried them away.

 

“Where am I?” she asked, moving closer so she could hear over the wind.  But she wasn’t quick enough and couldn’t catch the town’s name, only its location within a state of Canada.

 

“…you know, the north-eastern corner of Alberta…”

 

Willow’s jaw dropped, she was meant to be in the opposite corner of the state, if not in the western foothills of the Rocky Mountains in British Colombia. This cold, icy place was far away from the fabled Dawsons Creek.  In fact she didn’t actually think that roads ran to the northeastern part of Alberta. Certainly back in Edmonton there hadn’t been any noted routes or destination names on the maps or the buses, but here she was, stranded in an insolated corner of the state.  The wind once more gusted about her, sending a chill down her spine and she shrugged her backpack a little higher on her shoulder.  Surely if the buses came here, they had to leave and she hurried after the departing bus-driver, falling into step beside him.

 

“So, when does the next bus leave?”

 

“Tomorrow morning,” he huffed, not bothering to look at her as he jammed his hands deep into his pockets.  “‘bout ten.”

 

“Great,” Willow said more to herself than the bus-driver and she once more pulled her coat tighter about herself as the wind howled, it felt like tiny shards of ice were being blown through her, piercing her bones and freezing them solid.  It was an aching, empty and cruel coldness and all she wanted was to get away from it.  “Where’s the bus station?”

 

One thing she had been dependent on for most of her jaunt had been bus and train stations, they generally offered shelter and at the least a rest room where she could try to get herself cleaned up if nothing else was available.  Tired bloodshot eyes glanced at her through slits as he continued walking.

 

“This is it,” he muttered, jerking his head back towards the bus they’d all so eagerly abandoned and Willow stopped dead in her tracks, her mouth growing dry as she glanced about the barren, fenced-in yard. The only shelter was a dingy little lean-to shed, which was wide open to the elements, in particular to the freezing wind that was gathering force.

 

“Okay,” she said slowly and once more hurried after the driver, reaching out to stop him.  “Hey, are there any hotels or motels around here?”

 

“Yeah,” he stated flatly and Willow closed her eyes briefly, thanking whatever powers that be for that small miracle.  “But they’ll all be booked solid.  Season started a few weeks back, you won’t get anywhere if you ain’t booked.”

 

“The season?” she couldn’t think what season he meant, especially not in the tiny little hellhole she currently found herself standing in.

 

“Logging.  The lumberjacks came back up ‘bout two weeks ago, there’ll be nuthin’ ‘til Autumn, even then you’ll be pushed what with hunters and the sort.”

 

All she heard was logging and lumberjacks, although Monty Python’s song briefly made a comical trip through her mind it didn’t amuse her for long.  The little town that she had ended up in was turning into a waking nightmare, the idea of being stranded in a town that was filled to the rafters with loggers was unnerving.  From what she’d heard most logging camps were full of testosterone, guys who were interested in two things ~ fucking and fighting. 

 

“Isn’t there anything else?  A room somewhere?” Willow asked, hating the very sound of desperation that had crept into her voice.

 

For once the bus-driver didn’t seem to be in hurry to get away, in fact he stopped and turned to face her, his eyes raking over her body in a way that made the bile rise in her throat.

 

“Well,” he drawled, giving her a seedy smile and stepping closer.  “You could always bunk down with me…for a price.”

 

Her heart was pounding, Willow could feel it in her chest, fueled by adrenaline and the awful knowledge that for the briefest moment she was actually considering what he was offering.  Shaking her head, she turned on her heel.  “I’m not that desperate.”

 

“Yeah,” she heard him shout after her as she lengthened her stride, trying to put as much distance between them as she headed into the darkness, following the shadows of the two men who had also been on the bus.  “You won’t get a better offer, you stupid bitch.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, I’m a stupid bitch.  Like that’s sooo original,” she muttered to herself, buttoning up her coat and pulling the hood up.  The phrase seemed to be the catch cry of every male that was rejected, not only by herself but anyone else they picked on.  Scowling, she glanced back over her shoulder, checking out where the creep was.  Only he wasn’t there.  Willow stopped dead in her tracks and slowly turned around, listening to the wind howl in the darkness.  Pulling down her hood, she glanced about the large empty yard.  There was nowhere he could have gone, unless he’d headed back to the bus.  Her stomach twisted as the hairs stood up on the back of her neck and she carefully scanned the yard.  There was no sign of life in the bus, not even a shadow, and nobody could have disappeared that fast, not unless… 

 

Willow once more scanned the yard, this time paying particular attention to the darkest shadows.  Vampires, as she well knew, didn’t limit themselves to Sunnydale. But it was too dark to see anything and she slowly, cautiously took a step back before turning on her heel and walking away as quickly as she could.  She knew that running was an open invitation for a vampire to give chase.  Even so, she was certain that she could hear footsteps behind her, and, as she swallowed back the lump of fear that had risen in her throat, she realized that there were at least three or four sets following her.

 

“Just keep going and don’t look back,” she murmured to herself, leaving the hood of her coat down so she could listen and have full visage of what was going on around her.  Lengthening her stride, she headed for the closest building with lights on, what appeared to be a large shed.  Behind her the footsteps increased their pace.  “To hell with not running!”

 

Willow broke into a breakneck run, putting everything she had into a mad dash towards the shed.  Just as she reached the large door, she felt something brush against her back, like a cold claw of a hand trying to grab her, but she was lucky that the door gave way against her weight and fell open. 

 

To Willow it was like falling into a completely different world.  She burst through the door into a world of warmth, light and loud music, not to mention hundreds of people.  The fury of her flight had pushed her a few feet within the doorway, although her dramatic entrance didn’t attract anybodies attention, they seemed far more interested in what was going on within the building.  Glancing over her shoulder at the door, Willow wrapped her arms about herself and thanked her stars for a lucky escape.  It was obvious that whoever or whatever had been following her wasn’t about to come into a densely populated place.  Trying to regain her breath, she turned her attention back to the paradise she’d stumbled into.  It was a bar of some sort, it had to be since everyone was drinking.  Beer, spirits, all sorts of alcoholic beverages were being consumed by the patrons, either at the tables and benches scattered about the place, around the pool tables and at the bar itself, where there seemed to be a constant demand and unending supply of more. 

 

“Wow,” Willow breathed.  It was only then that she realized exactly how cold she was, her breath was visible and the word came out as vapor.  Hitching her backpack up a little higher on her shoulder, she slowly started to make her way through the throng of males, carefully scanning the area she was in, taking in the numerous fires that were lit in large drums, the flames licking up over the top and the smoke curling away, creeping up to add to the already blackened beams of the roof.  The warmth slowly began to break through the cold and she could feel herself thawing out, relaxing, and almost becoming sleepy from the rush of heat that spread through her body.  But the sleepy sensation was soon pushed aside as the irresistible aroma of food wrapped about her and she breathed deeply, scanning the area for the source of the delicious aroma.  Off to one side of the bar there was a large greasy kitchenette with a large, fat man working furiously over a grill.  Unfortunately the cigarette hanging out of the side of his mouth and the liberal addition of cigarette ash falling on the hotplates kind of killed Willow’s appetite.

 

Giving up on the idea of food, Willow instead headed towards the bar, hoping that she’d at least be able to get a hot drink and maybe some nuts or something to hold her over until she was able to get some half decent food.  That was the only thing she was thinking about as she made her way towards the bar, so much so that she didn’t listen to any of the crude comments and wolf whistles made by most of the men she had to walk past. That was until some drunkard clamped his hand down on her ass and slurred, “I’ll be ridin’ that tonight, baby…”

 

The adrenaline was still pounding through her veins ~ that was the only excuse Willow could have used.  Without a second thought, she spun around, grabbed the drunkard by the back of his neck and slammed his head into the side of the pool table. He slid to the floor, unconscious.  The whole bar went quiet and still. 

 

“Jesus,” muttered one of his companions, bending over the unconscious man before looking up at the pale redhead. “Silly bugger deserved that, didn’t he?”

 

He winked at her and the whole bar exploded into laughter and cheers, people were shouting and yelling and it seemed to return to normal.  The man’s friends were already scooping up his inert form and shoving him away in a corner, keeping him out of the way while their fun continued.  Still shaking, Willow sat down at the bar, slipping her backpack down to rest near her feet, and waited for the barkeeper to serve her.  Her hands were shaking and she wondered if anyone else noticed it. As inconspicuously as possible, Willow glanced to her right, the man sitting directly next to her gave her a lascivious wink and raised his glass. 

 

“We’ll have to put you in the cage, lass,” he slurred, moving closer to her and jostling her arm slightly.

 

“The cage?” asked Willow, not certain she liked the possibilities behind the words.

 

“Cage fights, we have ‘em here,” the bartender explained gruffly, jerking his chin towards part of bar area where something like a boxing ring was set up, only it was completely caged in with strong metal netting.

 

“I think I’ll pass,” Willow said softly, causing the men around her to laugh.

 

“What can I get you?” asked the barmen.

 

“Do you have coffee?”

 

“Sure, black, strong and hot.”

 

“That’ll be great, thanks,” Willow said, genuinely pleased and giving him a thousand watt smile to say so.  She was still shaking and rubbed her hands together, trying to not only warm them but to still their betraying quivers.  Once more she looked about, this time down to her left.  A few of the bar stools were empty and she glanced over her shoulder at the cage, people were beginning to mill around it as the fighting started, it seemed to be the main source of entertainment and obviously people wanted to get a good view of it. She watched as the first fight began, at first it was nothing more than a few light punches but as the crowd jeered and taunted the two fighters it became more vicious, blows were delivered with such force that they split skin and cracked bones. Willow turned away, breathing hard and unable to believe that such a barbaric form of entertainment was still going on, let alone that anyone would willingly step into the cage to fight. A coffee mug was plonked down in front of her on the bar and she glanced up at the gruff bartender.

 

“Thanks, how much?” she asked, smiling broadly.  He named his price and she handed over the money, before frowning as she glanced about the bar. “Umm, do you have sugar by any chance?”

 

It was obviously a question he wasn’t asked very often because there was a brief moment where a look of sheer surprise graced his features before he reached under the bar to produce a sugar dispenser that was practically full.  With a shake of his head he dropped it down in front of her.  “Knock yourself out, kid.“

 

Willow picked up the sugar and though her hand still shook she ignored it to pour a generous amount of sugar into her coffee, then she poured herself a little bit more.  Satisfied it was enough, she picked up the cup and took a small sip.  It was sweet and warm and just what she needed.  Although, she decided as she put the cup back on the bar and once more picked up the sugar dispenser, it could use a little bit more sugar.

 

“Sweet tooth, eh?” asked the man to her right, once more jostling her arm as he nearly slid off his stool in his highly inebriated state.  Willow simply smiled at him briefly before turning once more to her left and glancing at the brutal proceedings within the cage.  There were new fighters, but nothing else had changed, the crowd still cheered and chanted for blood. 

 

Slowly Willow let her gaze wander from the fight and once more surveyed the seats to her left.  Further down the bar men were ordering drinks, a few sat on the stools, leaning back against the bar while watching the fights.  But there was one man who didn’t seem at all concerned with the fighting that was going on behind him, in fact the more Willow watched him the more she thought that he didn’t exactly belong in the bar. For one thing he was the only guy she could see who was wearing a leather jacket, the kind that bikers wore, and then there was his hair.  It was long and wild, seemingly swept up and back from his face, while whiskers grew generously along his strong jaw line.  It was a jaw line that was being clenched as he chewed on a cigar, listening as one of the few women in the bar leant in close and whispered something in his ear, causing him to grunt.  Not a natural blonde, Willow thought taking in the highly peroxided and teased hair before dropping her gaze lower to the most enormous breasts she’d ever seen.  Or maybe they just seemed enormous as they strained against the skimpy material of the low cut dress she was wearing.  Either way they were a fascinating sight as they jingled and wobbled as she talked and laughed.

 

Willow had been so fascinated with those two large mounds of flesh that she didn’t realize that the man who the blonde was chatting to wasn’t paying the least bit of attention to his companion.  So as Willow drew her eyes away from the display of womanhood it was rather unsettling to find his dark eyes firmly fixed on her and she turned away, fussing over her coffee and forcing herself to take a couple of sips.  Not that she really had to force herself, the coffee was warm and sweet and quickly disappeared, so she ordered another.  This time the bartender remained in front of her, his arms crossed as she once more poured in a ridiculous amount of sugar, shaking his head as she put down the dispenser and he turned his attention to his other customers.  Or rather to the man who was seated a few stools down to Willow’s left.

 

“You want another beer?” he demanded, picking up the empty glasses that littered the bar as he moved down.

 

“Nah,” growled the man through clenched teeth as he still chewed on his cigar.  “Whiskey. . . you can leave the bottle, bub.”

 

Willow shot him a sidelong glance, only to find that his friend had disappeared and he was blatantly watching her.  It was disconcerting, kind of like when Angel and Spike use to stare.  It wasn’t staring so much as the predator sizing up its prey.   That in itself was enough to make her pick up her coffee and backpack and walk away from the bar to find a table to sit at by herself.

 

“Ma’am,” said a courteous voice, and Willow turned about to find herself facing a young man whose countenance was hidden under a cowboy hat.  In fact his eyes rolled up to his hat and he quickly snatched it off, revealing honey-blond hair and perfect blue eyes in a very handsome face.  “You were on the bus.”

 

Willow frowned and then realized that this was the man with the barley sugars.  She smiled and nodded.  “Yes, I was.”

 

“Please, would you like to join me?” he asked, holding out his hand to offer her the table.  A quick glance proved that she had no hope in hell of getting a table of her own and his company seemed more appealing than that of the predator at the bar, who, she warily noted, was still watching her, even though he was now scanning the rest of the bar as well.  Putting down her coffee and once more dumping her backpack on the ground, she gladly sat down. He smiled and from his jacket pulled out the bag of barley sugar, holding it out to her.  “Sweetie?”

 

Willow couldn’t help but smile, it was infectious, especially with the way he said sweetie.  Still, she shook her head in the negative.  “No, thank you.”

 

“Ah, you’re sweet enough?” he asked, taking out a sweet, unwrapping it and popping it into his mouth.

 

“No,” Willow’s smile broadened.  “I was always told never to take sweets from strangers.”

 

He laughed at that.  For a little while they made that forced conversation that discusses the trivial things in life, mainly the weather with both of them stating that it was as cold as hell ~ even though hell was supposed to be hellfire and the likes.  He explained to her the fundamentals of the cage fighting, how there were really no rules and that he’d once entered a competition up in the Yukon, only to be knocked out cold within a minute of getting in the cage ~ thus ending his very brief and very forgettable cage fighting career.

 

Eventually the polite conversation ran out and he leant back against the seat, watching her.  “So. . .what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this?”

 

“That’s original,” she laughed. 

 

“Honest question,” he shrugged and glanced over at the cage, and Willow followed his gaze.  The man who had sent her scurrying away from the bar was starting to strip off his shirts, his cigar still lit and being smoked.  She watched as he slowly revealed his body, it was hard and muscular, there wasn’t a scrap of fat on him, and Willow involuntarily swallowed at the sight of all that expanse of tight muscle.

 

“Next up tonight is the Wolverine,” the fight announcer called and Willow wondered at the name. 

 

“You see, most people only come here to work,” her companion said, although she couldn’t pull her eyes away from the fight that was going on in the cage.  It was a fast and savage fight, like this Wolverine had some sort of need to be fighting.  “This is my second season, probably my last. . .guess what I’m asking is if you’re here to, well, work?”

 

“Excuse me?” Willow demanded, tearing her eyes away from the man in the cage to stare at the boy who sat opposite her, not quite believing what she had just heard.

 

“Girls come up here, its good money,” he shrugged.  “I was just wondering…”

 

“No,” Willow stated quietly and quickly, turning her head and watching as the Wolverine knocked out his opponent to the cheers of the crowd.  She would rather watch some barbaric act of entertainment than look at the man who was asking if she was a whore.  “I’m not here to work.  I simply got on the wrong bus back at Edmonton, something I am deeply regretting.  Trust me.”

 

Inside the cage, Wolverine stepped over the unconscious body of his opponent and into his corner, picking up the bottle of whiskey and pouring himself a generous shot as the guy was dragged out and a new one stepped in.

 

“Well. . .” the young cowboy drawled, and Willow turned to stare at him, it was exactly the same sort of drawl the creepy and probably now dead bus-driver had used when he’d made his ‘offer’ of accommodation for the night.  “You should be right until the next bus. This place stays open 24/7.  Although,” he leant forward and glanced about as if he was about to tell her some great conspiracy.  “I wouldn’t recommend you eat here, it’s not the most hygienic place.  There’s the ‘Bear Claw’, it opens at six, probably be your best bet.”

 

Willow smiled, genuinely surprised by his obvious concern.  “Thanks.”

 

The next few hours passed in easy conversation and the consumption of the last of his barley sugars, it all slipped by too quickly for Willow and she soon found herself left alone as he bid her goodnight, explaining he had to get back to his room.  She’d wished him well and watched him leave before turning her attention to the other activities in the bar.  During all of that time Wolverine continued to fight in the cage. She found the fights fascinating in their own way, after all it was almost hypnotic to watch the sheer brutality of the brawls. Occasionally her attention would wander and she’d watch as the ‘girls’ of the bar did their work, picking up customers and disappearing from the bar for a little while before coming back and starting all over again.  The buxom blonde who had been hanging off Wolverine seemed to be the most popular and Willow wondered exactly what specialty she offered that made her so in demand.

 

Eventually the comings and goings of the bar girls began to bore her and she turned her attention back to the fights, watching as time and time again Wolverine took out his new opponents.   Willow guessed that a lot of people must have been losing money because of him, each fight was billed as his last, and the crowd, believing that he must be exhausted after so many brawls, kept backing him to lose.  Slowly but surely the crowd, as their wallets were lightened, started to die off. The fights came to an end, no one was insane enough to challenge the apparently unbeatable Wolverine and the cage was closed for the night.

 

“You want a last coffee?” asked the barkeep.  Around them the lights were being turned off, except for the few that lit the main area of the bar.  “We’re closing in twenty, so if you want one…”

 

“Closing?” Willow demanded, panic flooding through her at the thought of leaving the sanctuary of the bar.  “I was told this place was open twenty-four hours a day.”

 

“We stay open as long as we have customers, that guy’s shut us down,” the barkeep jerked his head in the direction of the Wolverine who was finishing off his beer at the bar, the buxom blonde sitting next to him, whispering into his ear.  “So, you want a coffee or not?”

 

“Sure,” Willow said flatly, not believing her luck.  She glanced down at her watch, it was only half past two.  Even if she lingered and stretched their twenty minutes into half an hour it still meant that she had at least three hours to fill in before the ‘Bear Claw’ opened and worst still it meant hours upon hours of cold darkness with unending threats.  Willow groaned inwardly and glanced about the bar, it was empty.  “Great.”

 

Forgetting about the coffee, she stood up and gathered up her backpack, swinging it over her shoulder, and walked out.

 

Willow regretted it as soon as she stepped outside of the door.  The wind had dropped, but it was freezing cold outside.  The night sky was clear, but there was no moon and so it was still pitch black despite the stars shining overhead.  It always amazed her how brilliant the night sky was outside of cities and large towns, it always seemed clearer, brighter and bigger.  Tonight it looked like black ice with tiny chips that sparkled, it also felt like black ice.  Her fingers and toes were numb, while her face was painfully cold and the icy air burned her lungs as she breathed.  It didn’t help that she hadn’t button her coat, nor that she hadn’t pulled up the hood, perhaps subconsciously she was acknowledging the bleakness of her situation.  With every step she took the cold seemed to penetrate her more and eventually she stopped walking. She wasn’t sure where she was heading and she took a moment to gather her thoughts and listen to the silence that surrounded her. 

 

Only there wasn’t silence.  There were footsteps, the soft sound of a pack hunting its prey together.

 

“Shit,” hissed Willow, whipping around, unable to detect exactly where the footsteps were coming from.  “Shit.”

 

She repeated it for good measure as she once more turned about, trying to place the direction from which the footsteps were coming.  They had to be close, she knew that from the simple fact that she could hear them.  Frantically, she glanced about the area she was in, there was nothing she could use as a weapon and nowhere to hide.  Giving up hope of defending herself, she ran. 

 

Somewhere to her right Willow heard laughter, and she veered off to her left, running as fast as she could.  But in the dark, she stumbled, her leg catching on a large fallen tree branch.  She screamed as her knee twisted and she fell face down on the gravel of the bar’s car park, her palms scraped across the gravel as she slid along, small stones embedding themselves in her flesh. Still sliding she twisted onto her back and scrambled back up onto her feet.  Standing shakily, she watched as a large, ugly vampire strode towards her from the shadows.

 

“What have we here then,” he snarled.

 

“Girl, fresh girl, scared girl, good girl,” gurgled another vamp idiotically as he too walked out from the shadows on her left and Willow risked a quick glance at him, thinking him to be the lesser of the two vamps being much smaller and probably deranged.  She had a plan and all she had to do was get the larger vampire to move closer to her, so she took two steps back.  “Silly girl, trying to run, naughty girl!”

 

“You can’t run though, can you?” the larger vampire smirked and licked his lips, his eyes darting down to her twisted knee as he arrogantly stepped over the fallen branch.  It was all Willow needed. Without taking her eyes off her target, she telekinetically lifted the fallen branch, great chunks of earth fell away as it rose from its resting place, and impaled the vampire.  “Fuck,” he swore, momentarily looking down at the great chunk of wood that skewered his chest before lifting his eyes to Willow.  “Where the hell did that come from?”

 

And then he was gone, nothing more than a pile of dust. 

 

Willow didn’t have time to revel in her victory. A fist connected with the side of her head, the blow was hard enough to send her sprawling back against the bonnet of an old wrecked car, and her backpack went flying landing on the other side of the car under a bush as she fell heavily to the ground.  Scrambling to her hands and knees, she tried to regain her footing, only to find herself hoisted up off the ground.

 

“Aren’t you a little hellcat?” purred a voice against her ear.

 

“No hellcat, hell queen, bad girl, naughty girl,” spat the little vampire who seemed to be cowering down before her and her captor.  Cowering didn’t help, the little vampire was at her mercy, and once more using her telekinetic powers she ripped a door off the old abandoned car and sent it flying through the air.  The little vampire was too slow, the metal slashed through his neck, sending his head flying and his body dissolved to dust. 

 

For a brief moment she thought that the other vampire was going to release her so he could run.  But he didn’t, instead he threw her against the wreck, forcing a tortured scream from her as frozen limbs collided with the metal, the impact nearly too much for her to stand and she would have fallen to the ground if the vampire hadn’t caught her by her throat and held her high above the ground. 

 

“Now you don’t exactly play nice, do you?” he snarled at her, his fingers biting into the flesh of her neck so that she couldn’t breathe.  Her hands wrapped about his wrist, her fingers digging into his flesh, but he didn’t even flinch.  Instead he was moving away from everything, into the center of the barren piece of land that was the back lot to the bar.  If she could have breathed she would have cried, knowing that there was nothing she could do now.  Just when she thought she was going to black out, the vampire relaxed his hold on her throat and she greedily sucked in air, despite the burning pain it caused her.  There were more footsteps and Willow’s eyes fluttered shut, she couldn’t fight any longer, not if there were more coming.  Cold fingers tore at her coat, pulling it down to lock over her arms so that she couldn’t move them even if she wanted to, her head fell back, baring her throat and she was held against the vampire’s chest.  His fangs sank deep into her throat and with that agonizing pain Willow once more found the will to fight. 

 

Letting her knees buckle she went limp in his arms and the vampire began to follow her down, too busy in feeding to even think of the consequences.  With all the fading strength she had left, Willow rolled up and into the vampire’s chest, hoping to knock him off balance so that she could at least get free and try to find some means of escape.   Just as she rolled she heard the strangest sound, like a metal sword being unsheathed, and then there was a blinding and agonizing pain in her shoulder.

 

The vampire dispersed in a haze of dust and Willow was left kneeling in the loose gravel looking up at the man who had been unbeatable in the cage fights.  Wolverine.  It was the most peculiar thing, he looked shocked, almost distressed as he gazed at her, his arm outstretched.  Following his line of vision, Willow looked down at herself, she was bleeding badly with a metal claw imbedded in her shoulder and another resting against her arm.  Her eyes fluttered shut and she fell backwards, away from the claw, dislodging it from her shoulder.

 

Logan stared down at the pale redhead lying at his feet.  Blood was beginning to pool about her and a ghost of a memory fleeted through his mind, red hair and dark blood staining the snow.  He took a step back, still unable to take his eyes off the girl or get a firm grasp on the transient memory.  The little light of the night glinted off his claws and he stared down at the scarlet blood that stained them before snarling and sheathing them.  Stepping forward, he scooped the fallen girl up in arms, her body completely limp.

 

àààà

 

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