Disclaimer : Two words: Joss Whedon.

AN: I have taken my time with this, haven't I? Writer's Block. Blame falls squarely upon it. But I know where I'm going with this, plus the new season is FINALLY showing here, so inspiration abounds! Anyway, read, review and enjoy! Thanks!

CHAPTER 7 – Willy's

"They get the pontianak's powers?" Angel repeated. "As in, *they* become bad ass unstakable, unflamable, creatures-of-the-night-and-now-day?"

"I do wish you'd articulate," Darla sighed. "But yes. They become as, well,…unkillable as the pontianak. Which, based on the havoc they tend to wreak as normal vampires, will be catastrophic once they receive these new powers."

"Oh, that's just f-" Spike paused as Darla and Drusilla raised their eyebrows. "Right. Sorry."

"We've got to stop them before they go through with it," Drusilla spoke up.

"That's the obvious train of thought, isn't it, Dru?" Darla sighed again. "Unfortunately, we don't know when, where, how, or what they're going to do."

Drusilla slumped down into her chair. "Well, at least we know why." She perked up. "I can scout around and try to find out, though. Maybe go to Willy's."

"No," Spike said immediately. "It's too dangerous. Angel and I will handle the demon-bashing-for-information. You and Darla can do the research on how to stop it."

Angel nodded in agreement. "Spike and I'll go over to Willy's and see if we can dig up info on where and when. We'll be back soon."

He and Spike strode to the door, grabbing their dusters on the way out. Angel threw a smirk towards Spike as they walked.

"How many cows died for that outfit?"

Spike made a face. "Oh, shut up." He grimaced and shifted uncomfortably. "Damn things chafe."

Angel chuckled. "Oh, but you look so damn sexy," he teased.

Spike glowered, his cheeks red. "Oh, *do* shut up."

They continued walking in silence to Willy's Alibi Room, a notorious demon hangout, run by a sleazy shell of a man named Willy. As repulsively traitorous as he was, he was often a good dependable source for information about the local going-downs of the demonic kind.

Angel burst through the doors, taking out a vampire that hissed at him as he did so. Spike rolled his eyes as he stepped over the pile of ash, and casually staked another vampire as it tried to bolt.

The presence of not just one, but both Slayers, stirred the patrons inside the bar, and they immediately began to panic and tried to rush out. Willy looked for the source of the commotion and groaned audibly.

"Oh, come on, guys," he complained. "Those were paying customers."

"What? No hug hello?" Angel held out his arms, and Willy nervously kept his distance. Angel clucked his tongue. "Tsk, tsk. Willy, I'm disappointed. And hurt."

Spike had just staked another vampire, and he approached the bar. Willy eyed him nervously.

"Nice pants, by the way. What do you guys want?"

"I do wish you wouldn't make assumptions," Spike shook his head. "I mean, we don't *always* come in just to pound you up for information."

Willy stared at him. A pause. "Yes you do."

Spike shrugged. "Alright, maybe we do. Bygones."

"So what do you guys want now?" Willy asked nervously. "A drink, maybe?" He motioned to the bar taps.

"A drunk Slayer is not a good Slayer," Angel shrugged. "No thanks."

"Sure," Willy chuckled anxiously. "So, what can I help you boys with today?"

Spike and Angel exchanged glances.

"The pontianak."