Spike and I cleaned up the mess and I got all of my new toys securely
   stowed away. I hid them in a chest under the bed and rather spitefully
   dumped most of Willow's Wicca supplies in the trash. Vengeful and petty?
   Yes. Do I regret it? No.

   "Why'er you doing that?" My impudent sub demanded curiously as I emptied
   the spell components into a dumpster. Spikey-boy had followed at my heels
   to the trash bin like a good dog.

   "None of your friggin' business," I replied. I had kept up the whole
   dom/sub routine with Spike. Mostly because it was easy, but partially cause
   I was enjoying the hell out of having Spike licking my boots and kissing my
   ass. Not literally...yet.

   I knew that the dom/sub behavior could not continue around the rest of the
   Scooby gang without blowing my cover, or at least without raising some
   serious questions. However, there was no reason that my newly established
   relationship with Spike had to change while we were alone together though.

   If anything, Willow's sweetly innocent façade made a secret life as a
   Leather Goddess seem all that much more plausible. I can even envision it:
   sweetness & light by day, dominatrix by night. Take my word, Willow looks
   really hot in black leather with her hair tousled and her lips pouting.

   I am sick.

   Sickness aside, I had no other way of dealing with Spike's smoldering
   infatuation with my new body. Dom/sub suited me just fine. It kept Spike
   in line and I got that added thrill of rending his asshole with my
   three-inch stiletto heels.

   I know that in Spike's mind we were playing some sort of game. I had
   impressed him with the knife-to-balls maneuver and reinforced his
   fascination. I think he obeyed me partially out of real fear but mostly out
   of lust. To me, though, all that mattered was that he *did* comply, not
   why. So long as he obeyed me with alacrity, I was happy.

   "Listen up bitch," I said, turning from the dumpster. Spike slapped to
   alert, overeager attention. He still had a hard on. I could see the bulge
   in his pants. "Listen up cause this is how it's gonna be. When we're alone
   together, you respect and obey or I'm gonna beat the living crap out of you.
   Understand?"

   He nodded and I got the sinking feeling that he anticipated disobeying just
   so he *would* be punished. Spike is like that. I swallowed, feeling my
   body temperature rising. There was no way I could let bad behavior slip
   without punishment...or I would lose all control over him.

   Some part of me wanted to punish him so badly that I started becoming
   aroused again. That made me even more uncomfortable. I squirmed in my
   tight little skirt, rubbing my thighs together in an attempt to find relief.
   A soft moan escaped Spike's lips. His eyes were glued on my squirming
   midriff.

   "What about when we're not alone?" he asked, almost panting. I could read
   his mind because his thoughts were transparent. He wanted to be inside me
   as my hips twisted. Mentally, his cock was already embedded to the hilt in
   my pussy. He could smell, taste, and feel the juices flowing...

   Oh fuck. I jarred myself out of my reverie by forcibly reminding myself
   that to Spike I was Willow, sweet, innocent little Willow. Willow who had
   just threatened to cut off his balls and feed them to him...

   OK, quick mental revision...to Spike I am now Willow, Leather Goddess.

   "When the others are around, act normal."

   "An' if I don't?" he tested with a cocky eyebrow.

   "Some people find pain...very inspirational," I told him with a significant
   look, using one of his favorite phrases. I doubt Willow has ever heard him
   say it but it had the intended effect. It shut him up.

   #

   For lack of anything better to do, I had Spike do my nails, fingers first,
   then toes. Spike is great with nails and makeup. He even wrapped my toes
   up in those dainty little pieces of material first. It was neat.

   I was feeling sadistic so I put my feet in his lap, wedged my heel firmly
   against his rock hard cock, and made sure that he could stare straight up my
   skirt. Then I leaned back and ignored him with icy indifference. His
   expression was tortured.

   Ain't I a brat?

   "Willow, luv?"

   I looked up and Spike gave me a shy, bashful smile. He held my left foot
   clasped between his hands and was rubbing lightly. "Do you suppose later
   that maybe you and I could..." His head jerked toward Willow's bed.

   His thoughts were on my Atomic Toy Box. He wanted to play with my dildos
   and vibrators, butt plugs and lube. He wanted me to put on my brand
   spanking new polyvinyl cat suit, handcuff him to the bedpost, and beat him
   with the riding crop until he begged.

   "Not even," I told him coldly.

   "I've thought about it," he wheedled.

   "Well I haven't."

   "Willow..."

   "Try www bestiality dot com," I snapped. "Get back to work, bitch."
   Despite the brush off, Spike cheerfully went to work manicuring my toenails.
   He whistled a jaunty tune as he worked, clearly undaunted by my rejection.

   Spike is an infernal optimist.

   Sadly, pathetically, I am attracted to the peroxide twit. This whole
   twisted charade began as a chance for a little payback but things are
   starting to get out of my control. My shopping trip to the mall and the toy
   store had left me primed to play and Spike looked pretty darn good as a
   potential partner.

   I cannot and I will not but I want to. Spike's devotion to Willow is going
   to make abstinence hard but I held off from making love to Buffy after the
   second curse. I can certainly keep Spike at arm's length. The only
   difference was that before I HAD to remain celibate or bye-bye baby. That
   will not matter. I hope.

   I consoled myself with the knowledge that I always had my Atomic Toy Box.
   Everything about Willow's body is so amazingly new, wondrous and unexplored.
   I am a woman now, and I cannot wait to explore all that entails. My head
   spun at the thought. Multiple orgasms, a G-spot, and my own set of tits...

   With some effort and imagination, I could easily drag out the discovery
   process for weeks, maybe even months. That thought helped me perk up. Plus
   there was the added incentive of being able to torment and tease the living
   hell out of Spike, my new boy-boy, and slavish devotee of Willow Rosenberg.

   He loves me too, you know. Angel.

   Spike and I have the most classic love/hate relationship of all time. We
   love to hate each other and hate to love. Each of us has had plenty of
   opportunities to kill the other but do we take them? No. We abuse,
   torture, and torment the hell out of each other but never kill. That would
   end our love/hate affair forever.

   The thought of Spike's death is a cold dagger in my heart. He is so much a
   part of my life...but that does not mean that I am going to show mercy. If
   anything, I am going to be harder on him because of it. I am going to make
   him regret making me feel this way.

   I absolutely relish the potential this whole situation has. Spike in love
   with Willow, who happens to be me. Love is Spike's Achilles Heel, his
   greatest vulnerability. He gives himself over to it so totally, surrenders
   his entire being to his beloved.

   Spike is love's bitch, as he so eloquently puts it. I have him by the
   balls...and I have so much to get even for. He is going to crawl, beg, and
   scream in agony before I am through with him. I am going to reinvent
   torture and cruelty just for him.

   I sighed and Spike smiled at me, puppy love written all over his face. I
   smiled back with evil anticipation and confusion crossed his face again.
   Sweet Willow must have seemed to have under gone a Mr. Hyde-like
   transformation to poor William.

   Oh I was having too much fun! These are the moments that confirm what I
   know deep within my heart. I am sick. I am depraved. My demon gets his
   best and worst qualities from me and would be just another mediocre,
   run-of-the-mill bloodsucker without me.

   I also know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I cannot really hurt Spike. I
   could beat him or whip him, but I cannot hurt him horrifically or brutally,
   the way I long to, the way he hurt me. I can get off on the fantasy but I
   do not have the stomach for torture. I lost my taste for it, for the
   ability to enjoy it, when Willow hijacked my demon, so I will have to settle
   for the fantasy.

   And I love my child too much to do to him what he has done to me. Spike is
   still a demon, pure blooded, vicious, cruel. I know that he despises me for
   what I have become. The torture was his way of acting out, of getting even.
   I cannot turn the other cheek, I can never forgive, but I can show him
   mercy.

   Without warning, I ground my heel into his crotch. He gasped. "Spikey,
   that feels ssssooooooo good," I purred. "Rub my instep." He complied,
   grabbing my heel and keeping it tight against his sore, swollen crotch.

   I can show him mercy. But not too much.

   I was so friggin' horny that my entire lower body ached. The feeling was
   exquisite and fascinating and NEW. I loved the sexual anticipation almost
   as much as I savored the fantasy of satisfying that ache with something big
   and hot and hard...

   I imagined a cock plunging into me and arched me hips, shoving my foot even
   harder against Spike's distended cock. With my big toe, I could feel the
   hole in his crotch I had cut with my knife, and through it his dick. Its
   presence under my foot made a great sexual aid, heightening the tension and
   my arousal. He shuddered with helpless convulsions but I was too wrapped up
   in the fantasy to notice.

   Buffy...her name entered my mind unbidden. My heart wants Buffy to be my
   first and only lover. There is no one else for me. There never has been.
   I have had other lovers...dozens, hundreds...but I have never loved another
   person the way I love her. Every other feeling is a shadow in comparison.

   Buffy, Buffy. Oh god, she will be home soon...oh God...I am scared to
   death. How am I going to share a room with her without her guessing that
   knowing that I am Angel inside of Willow's body? How am I going to stand
   being so close to her and not be able to touch her?

   Should I tell her? Should I lie? How should I act? I am never going to be
   able to sleep with her curled up in bed less than six feet from me, with her
   lips softly parted, her chest gently rising and falling...

   I used to sneak into her room to watch her sleep. Soul and soulless, she
   was my passion and obsession for two years. I have forced myself to walk
   away for the sake of love, for Buffy's well being. Everything Joyce said to
   me was true.

   As a vampire, I could not offer her a normal life, sunlight and children,
   someone to grow old with. As a mortal I was a liability to her, unable to
   even hold my own in a fight. I am mortal now, however temporarily, but all
   of the old barriers are still in place with an added twist.

   Buffy is neither a duck nor a dyke.

   Oh, I can give her sunlight now but children would require a quick trip to
   the sperm bank. Oh, and marriage? Not even in Hawaii. My odds of
   surviving a fight are worse than ever. And as much as the thought of an
   illicit exploration of the wondrous world of lesbianism thrilled me, I doubt
   that Buffy would feel the same.

   Then there is always the looming possibility that Willow and I will discover
   a way to reverse this "situation" and things will be right back to being the
   way they were to begin with.

   Oh yeah! A whole new opportunity to break Buffy's heart! Friggin'
   wonderful.

   I CAN'T.

   I love her too much.

   The knowledge that I still could not be with Buffy was a wet blanket on my
   steaming libido. The thoughts sobered me right up and left me wondering how
   the hell I had managed to turn a sexual fantasy into morose brooding. Only
   I could ruin a healthy daydream like this. I am the only person capable of
   such depravity.

   Sighing, I opened my eyes and started to tell my jacked up sub to go whack
   off in the bathroom. Spike was so hard and horny that he looked ready to
   come in his pants. That, of course, is the precise moment when Buffy walked
   in.

   Envision this: Willow in a short, revealing skirt, perspiring lightly with
   strands of damp hair curling about her face, reclining with her feet in
   Spike's lap, big toe burrowing through the hole in this crotch. Now add in
   Spike staring straight up Willow's skirt at her brand spanking new black
   thong panties.

   Now imagine the look on Buffy's face. "Well, isn't this comfy," she said,
   looking as nonplused as I felt.

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