"Hell...bastard...how dare you touch her..." Babbling something about
   Willow's virtue, Xander hit Spike and threw him against the car. I do not
   know exactly Xander said; I only heard fragments.

   I was stunned by Xander's sudden appearance and attack. Before I could
   react, Xander tossed Spike to the ground and kicked my sub in the ribs.
   Spike grunted and rolled, attempting to reach cover under the car. He had
   no way of defending himself and Xander had already drawn blood.

   I flew into a rage. Grr...grr...grr... No one, but NO ONE, hurts my subs
   but me. I bounded from the car. Regardless of my topless state, I launched
   myself at Xander. Willow's body may not be buff but it is trim, dexterous,
   and fast. In the right hands, it can be quite deadly.

   WHACK, WHACK, WHACK...three quick jabs to his jaw sent Xander staggering
   back. I hit him in the ribs with my left fist and followed through with a
   punch to the nose. Something broke under my fist, his nose turned soft and
   squishy, and blood squirted out.

   Xander yelped pathetically. It figured. Xander fights like a girl and he
   cries like one too. Ironically, it was Anya who came to *his* rescue. The
   ex-demoness stepped in between us and shoved me back.

   "Stop hurting him!" she cried. "Oh Xander, are you OK?"

   "I'm *fine*," he answered, glaring at me. His voice was muffled under the
   hand covering his nose and mouth. "No thanks to Wills here."

   "No thanks to me!" I exclaimed. "What did you think you were doing anyway?
   RESCUING ME?"

   "I was," Xander answered. "Until you turned into psycho-boxer-gal on me."
   Anya left to fetch him something to staunch the blood flow with from their
   car.

   Spike appeared beside me holding my blouse. "Here," he said, possessively
   stepping in front of me until I was covered. It was sweet, in some strange,
   twisted euphemism of the word.

   "Thanks." I smiled and he backed off a little but remained protectively
   close to my side. "What are you doing here anyway?" I demanded. We were in
   the middle of nowhere. Literally.

   "We saw you and Spike drive by...and..." Xander glared, hurt that he even
   had to explain himself to me. "...turned the car around. We lost you for a
   while once we left the freeway..."

   "But Xander insisted that we keep going," Anya inserted helpfully.

   "You followed me?" I shrilled. Outrage sent my voice a couple notes up the
   octave scale. "How...how...how DARE you!" Xander started to explain.

   "NO!" I interrupted, raising a finger to him. "Stop right there! It's OK
   for you to fool around with ex-demoness here!" I indicated Anya.

   "Hey!" she exclaimed.

   "No offense," I apologized.

   "None taken," she said but looked miffed anyway.

   Xander opened his mouth but I shoved it shut with a nasty look. "But if I
   want to take a muzzled vampire..."

   "Hey!" Spike interrupted. I ignored him.

   "...as a lover, you have the right to beat him up?" I finished. Xander
   stared at me with helpless confusion.

   "That wasn't..." Xander shook his head. Apparently, the concept of a
   double standard and unfairness had never entered his mind with regard to
   Willow. Willow's pedestal was so high that he thought he could make snap
   judgments whenever he wanted. Pushy male chauvinism was not only
   permissible but also expected of him.

   "That was exactly it," I responded harshly. Well, not anymore... I agreed
   to live Willow's life to the best of my ability, to keep up her grades, to
   keep her parents duped...I never agreed to living life like the virgin
   mother just so *Xander* would not get his ego bruised.

   "Wills," he pleaded.

   I shook my head and turned away. "Don't talk to me again until you're ready
   to apologize," I said. I looked at my sub, who gazed at me with fierce,
   unwavering loyalty. "To Spike," I finished.

   Spike's expression went blank. He carefully concealed whatever he was
   feeling as I led him back to the car. I would have given anything right
   then to be able to read his mind but he was inscrutable.

   We drove back to Sunnydale in silence but it was companionable.

   #

   I over-reacted to Xander. I know I did, I acknowledge it, but I would not
   go back and change it if I could. Xander and I were never good buddies.
   Our rivalry and mutual dislike goes back for years, and I solidly and
   unswerving maintain that I was in the right.

   Once we were at the mansion, I made Spike take off his shirt while I
   cleaned out his injuries and bandaged the cut on his face. Spike made a
   bunch of noise, protesting that he was fine, but he loved the attention.
   For my part, fussing over him helped calm my riled nerves.

   "You were really somethin' back there," Spike told me with that touching
   bashfulness again. It was as close as he had come to saying thank you to me
   for coming to his defense.

   "Think so?" I smiled and took the compliment in the spirit in which it was
   intended.

   "Hell yeah!" Spike assured me fervently. He winced as I pressed an
   alcohol-soaked cotton ball to the cut over his eye. I blew on it gently. I
   was in a REALLY weird mood. My feelings were all warm, fuzzy, and muddled.
   My deepest instincts propelled me to cuddle and mother Spike like a child.

   It had to be the booze and raging female hormones.

   "Thanks." I grinned and pressed the adhesive Band Aid to his forehead.
   Patching him up had also given me a chance to give him a good going over and
   I did not like what I saw at all.

   Spike was thin, more so than usual, which meant that he had not been eating
   properly. I KNOW how hard it is to go from drinking human blood to animal
   and I doubt Spike was making the transition as well as I had. Spike had no
   guilt helping him stick to the diet plan and he has always possessed less
   discipline and self-control than I.

   Without thinking about it, I drew my knife. Spike's eyes widened and he
   actually flinched. Apparently, my sudden outbursts of temper and violence
   had made quite the impression on my sub.

   Instead of cutting him, I poured alcohol over the blade and dried it off on
   a clean towel. "What are you doin'?" Spike asked as I sterilized an area on
   my bicep with the same thoroughness. His voice trembled.

   "When was the last time you had a decent meal, Spike?" I asked, beckoning
   for him to come to me. I chose a spot on my forearm that would be easy to
   hide with long sleeves and pressed the blade to my flesh. I made a deep,
   short incision.

   It hurt. I looked up as blood began welling out of the wound. Spike had
   not moved. He seemed paralyzed in place. "This is going to go to waste if
   you don't," I told him, holding out my arm. Blood dripped off my arm to the
   floor.

   Spike jumped. He grabbed my arm and changed to game face, greedily pressing
   his mouth to the wound. I felt his incisors against my flesh but he did not
   bite. He could not. But he could drink enough to sate his hunger, and
   maybe, help his health a little.

   I sighed and wrapped my other arm around him as he suckled. I relaxed and
   gave myself over to the warm rush of pleasure, which enveloped me. I was
   not worried about him hurting me, and he could safely take a pint or so with
   no repercussions. Besides, it felt incredibly good.

   We were both shaking with pleasure when Spike finally withdrew. A fine
   sheen of perspiration covered my body and wisps of hair clung to the sides
   of my face. My breathing was labored as I came down off my second
   orgasm--different but still an orgasm--of the evening.

   "Thanks," Spike said, wiping off his mouth and looking away. He was afraid
   to meet my eyes so I leaned over and drew a hand under his chin, forcing his
   head up. There were tears in his eyes and he was pathetically grateful.

   "No problem," I said. There were times when I would have given anything if
   someone had been willing to do for me what I had just done for Spike. He
   had no way of knowing but I knew exactly what he was going through with
   withdrawal. I went through the exact same thing, twice. He had all of my
   sympathy and pity.

   Besides, I am not a fool. By letting Spike feed from me, I had doubly
   reinforced the bonds of power and sex holding him to me. Blood is a bond.
   For a vampire, blood is better than sex. Always.

   Spike had not had human blood for at least three months and had absolutely
   no access to it apart from me. He would not soon forget that I was willing
   to feed him when I was able. It gave my sub one more reason to remain loyal
   to me.

   It might sound like I am desperate to get my claws into Spike...I am. He is
   all that I have right now. He is all that I have got that is familiar and
   safe in this crazy, serendipitous world, which Willow has cast me into. I
   *need* someone to hold onto and Spike is that person. I have chosen him and
   I need to be sure that I am not going to lose him.

   If that means bleeding every once in a while, so be it.

   I swayed. Suddenly, I felt dizzy and lightheaded. I was still bleeding
   despite my hand applying pressure over the cut. Spike exclaimed and pushed
   me down into a chair. He rushed to bandage me up.

   "Makin' sure that the blood cow doesn't bleed to death?" I asked with forced
   humor. I wanted to lighten up the mood and it was hard with him fussing but
   not speaking to me.

   "Right," he agreed. He did not laugh. Drat.

   I sighed. I sat for a while in silence with Spike while his eyes drifted
   everywhere but to me. I was starting to get jumpy. I had made him
   uncomfortable when I had been hoping that feeding him would bring us closer.
   "Thinking of Dru?" I asked. Being in the mansion always reminded me of
   Drusilla.

   "Yeah."

   I looked around, remembering our time together. Or, more appropriately,
   their time together...Spike, Drusilla, and my demon. Technically speaking,
   I had been absent through the entire ordeal. I had only my demon's memories
   to go by. "You must hate him pretty bad..." I said. Spike looked at me.

   "Angel. For taking Dru away from you." I shudder to remember some of the
   other vile things 'Angelus' did to my sub while he was loose. Some of the
   memories of how my demon hurt Spike make my stomach churn with revulsion.

   Hate flashed in Spike's eyes. "Yeah. I hate him."

   Shame and guilt filled me, forcing me to break eye contact with Spike. I
   think maybe I can...and will...forgive Spike for Marcus and those steel
   shafts after all. Maybe Spike only did it to get even for Dru. And the
   other things... If I continued to pursue this, taking revenge for revenge,
   the cycle would be vicious and endless.

   The intensity was too much. I stood. "Rain check on the blow job?" I
   asked. "I'm getting really tired and it's late. Plus, I have classes
   tomorrow."

   "Sure. No prob." He did not say it but the blood letting had more than
   made up for the missed blowjob, had been better, in fact. He knew it and I
   knew it but he was not going to confess it to me. And he did not know that
   I had any way of knowing.

   "I'm just gonna walk myself home," I said. Spike stood and I glanced at him
   in confusion. "I'll be OK."

   "I'm walking you home," he insisted. "I'm still good for hurting demons and
   there are plenty of those roaming Sunnydale at this hour."

   "I'll be fine," I argued. But I recognized the stubborn set of his jaw and
   realized that my words were wasted. Dom/sub relationships were irrelevant.
   Spike had made but his mind and nothing would change it.

   Spike escorted me home. The uncomfortable silence remained. I was at a
   total loss to understand its source and too tired to try and correct it.
   Buffy was not home when I got there so I went straight to bed.

   My last thought as my head hit the pillow was that I had forgotten to call
   Willow and check in. Then I fell sound asleep, to dream restless dreams
   during my troubled mortal slumber.
 

read the sequal Spanking Willow

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