***

Spike paced the floor of the mansion, watching Willow curled up on the sofa reading a book.  He was waiting for the sun to go down.  Sometimes he was happy to
stay in the mansion, other times, like today, he simply had to escape.  It wasn't so much the mansion he wanted to flee from, it was what the mansion held...videos.
Not just any videos but the ones he and Willow had watched during the course of the day.  Early last night it had started raining and Spike, much to Willow's
amusement, had demanded that she would have to miss the next day of college because of the rain.  He'd expected an argument, some logical and undeniable
explanation why she couldn't stay at home, instead she had nodded and requested that they pick up a few video's ~ declaring that rainy days demanded a video fest.

Movies were a problem.  A problem that Spike had gotten around or so he thought until their trip to the video store.  Their favourite choices included Baz Lurhman's
Romeo and Juliet - Willow liked the romance, he liked the bloodshed and body count - and Titanic, probably the worse movie for him, hours of sickening romance
before the blood curdling screams and a huge body count, although it was disappointing in the lack of blood, but the bodies floating about did ease that a little.  So
yesterday at the video store when Willow had gone on an Emilio Estevez frenzy he was a little dubious. Especially when she told him that Emilio, he really hated that
lovesick teenager look she got when she said the damn name, was just soooooo (enough o's to make him want to heave) cute and talented.  Strange that talented
was added as an after thought.  Choices were made and Spike had groaned as he read through the various titles.

"Last Night, Champions, Young Guns, Young Guns 2...Great, fucking sequels - this sucks already!"

It had basically been, apart from a few scenes of mindless violence and blood shed, hours of torture of Willow gushing and lusting after some little git who was
probably gay.  He'd even considered ripping the wiring out of the VCR, shrugging it off and hauling her into the bedroom to make sure she totally forgot how cute
Emilio was...and talented, he couldn't forget that aspect of this Emilio...but that was soon forgotten as she curled up against his chest and fell asleep.  Fortunately the
movie playing at the time had been Young Guns and he was happy to watch the various actors shoot the crap out of each other.

But now, as he paced waiting for the sun to go down, all he wanted was to get rid of the loathsome Emilio riddled videos.  Turning around he glanced at Willow and
wandered over. He dropped down next to her and stretched out along the sofa, resting his head in her lap.  Willow smiled to herself and shifted slightly so that she
could stroke his hair.

"What are you reading, love?" he asked wrapping one of his hands about her leg and closing his eyes, perfectly content to lay there.  "Is it one of those books the
wanker dropped off?  You've had those for weeks."

"No, it's not one of Giles books.  It's something far more important," Willow stated, running her nails lightly along his scalp.

"What's that then?"

"It's a psych text, I'm trying to work out the significance of Pope Angel," Willow smiled to herself as Spike's shoulders tensed against her thigh.

"Bloody hell, love.  It was just a stupid dream I had ages ago," he paused and frowned, vivid images of fishnet stockings and Union Jack doc martens assaulting him.
"Doesn't mean anything..."

"Dreams are very insightful.  It's your subconscious trying to make sense of chaos," Willow continued to stroke his hair, easing the tension.  "Actually it's interesting
that you put Angel into a situation of power and respect, then humiliated, dominated and killed him..."

"Piffle, anyway that's not important," his thumb started tracing small circles on the inside of her knee.  "What about the fishnets and doc martens?  Explain the
significance of those."

"Easy, Angel's a cross dresser with a fetish for Union Jack doc martens.  If you had been able to see any further he was probably wearing frilly pink panties with a
matching bra..."

Spike glanced up at her face, the faintest trace of a smile graced her lips as she tried desperately not to laugh.  Suddenly the image of Angel in the aforementioned
garments flashed through his mind and he groaned loudly, curling up against her.

"Oh please, pet. I've just eaten," he grimaced, quickly conjuring up the image of Willow in a sea of silk sheets, covered in a fine sheen of sweat and totally sated.
Closing his eyes he relaxed back against her, sighing as her hand swept through his hair and down to caress his throat.  "I think the old farts spell books are far more
interesting."

The only answer he received was a slight pause in the movement of her hand and a rather detached sound of acknowledgement, neither in agreement or denial.

"You know," he squeezed her thigh, opening his mischievous blue eyes and meeting her green.  "There is an impotence curse...you should try it out on Xander...it'd be
a laugh."

"Mmm," Willow stated non-comittingly.  Spike shifted his head in her lap and looked at her.

"Go on, it'd piss Anya off," he grinned manically at the thought of Anya and Xander being faced with the consequences of impotence. Willow shook her head and Spike
frowned.  "Why not?  It's not like it'd be permanent or anything."

"No?  What if it gets messed up?" she pulled a face at him and went back to reading her psych text.  "I'm not casting anything so you can get over it.  Won't happen."

"Won't get messed up, it's a simple spell," Spike yanked the book from her hand and shut it.

"Really?" asked Willow trying unsuccessfully to get the book back.  "So was the Latin and bend thy will spells..."

Spike shrugged and tossed her psych textbook across the room, before she even had time to protest he'd spun them about pinning her down to the sofa with his body.

"Things happen, didn't do any harm..." he murmured looking her over before lowering his mouth to her neck, kissing her softly.

"You asked Buffy to marry you," Willow stated pointedly.

"Love," Spike growled lifting up and frowning down at her before his face softened and he pouted.  "Thought we weren't going to talk about that...anyway this is
making Xander impotent, won't affect me.  Come on, it'll be fun..."

"Spike, I'm not doing it," Willow stated not even looking at him as he tried his best puppy dog pleading look that usually vetoed any negative response.  But it didn't
work.  "Now get off me."

It was rather a shock for Spike to find himself suddenly lying on the floor with Willow stepping over him and heading off to retrieve her psych book.  He watched as she
bent down to pick it up, chewing at her lip and frowning.

"What is it, pet?"

"Nothing," Willow stated, not even bothering to look at him.  Spike, with his usual cat like grace, arched his back and flipped up to stand on his feet.

"Willow?" he knew as soon as she said nothing that something was bothering her.  There would have been an argument about his question, but this cold short
statement left no doubt that there was something wrong.  He watched her for a moment, still scowling and pretending to take a great interest in her textbook, and
thought back over the conversation.  It couldn't be the dream, she'd joked about that, teased him even.  Maybe it was the mention of Xander and Anya, she was touchy
about that but usually she'd just roll her eyes and they'd fight and make up, not this sulking miles across the room from him.  Then it hit him with all the subtlety of a
feather pillow with a brick in it.  "Why don't you cast anymore?"

"What?" she asked, trying to keep the tone of her voice nonchalant.  It would have worked better if her face didn't flush bright red as she kept her eyes firmly fixed on
the book.  Once more the book was torn from her hands and flung across the room as Spike grabbed hold of her arm and spun her to look at him.

"Why don't you cast anymore?"

It was a pretty clear question and Willow couldn't really side track it, especially with him holding her so tightly.  So she shrugged.

"There's been no need for it."

"Well there's no need for us to have sex, since we can't procreate," he smirked and pulled her in close.  "But that doesn't stop you being an active participant."

"Spike," she all but growled at him frowning and pulling herself free of his hold.

"So why," he wrapped a hand about her arm again, stopping her escape.  "Would that stop you from casting?"

"I just don't want to."

"Why?  Because your last few spells went astray?" Spike smirked and then frowned as Willow dropped her head and sighed.  He'd hit the nail on the head.  "Come on,
love.  Two spells went haywire, doesn't mean you have to stop.  Hell you've probably just got a bit of a funk going on.  Do a cleansing spell, that'll clear you right up.
Then you can curse Xander."

She pulled away from him and he thought that maybe he should just drop the Xander thing until she got her confidence back.

"I'm not doing any spells," Willow could see him open his mouth to say something.  "No! You aren't listening to me.  I don't want to. I can't do magic.  The last few
times they've been really simple spells and they just totally stuffed up.  But what's worse is that they hurt people, people I care about.  What would have happened if
Giles hadn't been able to reverse the Latin spell?"

"I would've had marvellous fun insulting people and making lascivious suggestions to you during those bloody dull and useless research sessions you've been dragged
to."

"That's not funny," she stamped her foot, nearly in tears, her fists clenched and her face pale.  Spike stood for a moment studying her carefully.  No matter what he
said she wasn't going to listen to him, not tonight anyway.  Pursing his lips he turned partially away from the fuming redhead, taking a moment to collect his thoughts.

"Bugger this, we're going out," he muttered, dropping down to grab her about the legs and throwing her over his shoulder.

"Spike," she screamed, slapping his back and grabbing at him.  "Put me down!"

"Nah," he walked over and grabbed her coat, keeping a firm hold on her wriggling body.  "We're going out."

"Spike," Willow muttered, resigning herself to the fact that he was stronger and there was no way he was going to let her go.

"What?"

"Videos."

"Oh yeah, we can't forget Emilio," he muttered walking back to the bag of videos and turning around.  Without hesitating or being asked Willow reached out and
grabbed the bag.  Spike tickled the back of her knee, making her squeal again.  "Let's go then."

Half an hour later, after the dreaded videos were safely back at the video store, they were speeding through the streets of Sunnydale with Spike happily splashing
through the puddles and drenching innocent pedestrians.  To even the keenest observer there was no distinguishing the two people on the bike from any other couple.
Both wore full helmets, black with dark visors, leather coats, gloves, boots and jeans.  The only distinctive feature was Spike's duster, which when wrapped about him
and with Willow holding on tightly wasn't really that noticeable.  Especially not to a blonde slayer as she wandered along the pavement hand in with her commando
boyfriend, listening to the glorious details of his childhood home.

"Oh this is just too precious," murmured Spike to himself as he gunned the motor of the bike and headed for an enormous puddle.  Moments later the muddied water
surged forth in a huge wave and totally drenched the blonde.  With a squeal of the bike's tyres they were around the corner and out of sight before Buffy even had the
chance to pull her drenched hair away from her face.

Unfortunately Spike didn't escape unscathed from the whole encounter.  Even as he slowed the bike down pain exploded through his head.  It wasn't the chip, it was a
furious Willow head butting him from behind and the act only served to increase his mirth.  After he'd bought all the gear for the bike and it became their usual mode
of transport, it was less obvious than the Desoto, they had set down some ground rules.  Well Willow had and Spike ignored them, however the head butting thing was
a joke that they'd agreed to do if he pissed her off.  He gathered that splashing the slayer with dirty water was something that pissed her off, especially when her
gloved hand snuck beneath his duster and pinched his nipple...hard.

"Hey," he said, squeezing her thigh.  Of course she couldn't hear him through the helmets, but he had to make a protest of sorts.  Needless to say the squeezing of her
thigh became a caress and he nearly missed the turn to take them back to the main shopping area of Sunnydale.  They were barely metres away from where he'd
splashed the slayer but he didn't really care about that as he parked the bike and helped Willow off, removing his helmet and setting it down.

"Aren't there some books you needed to get?" Spike asked as he took the helmet she held in her hands.

"Yes,"  Willow pulled off her gloves, shoving them into the pockets of the 3/4 leather coat she wore when riding on the bike.

"Go get them then,"  ordered Spike, turning his back to her and glancing at the nearly deserted street.

"Why?  What are you going to do?" asked Willow narrowing her eyes in suspicion.

"I've got some stuff to do..." the suspicion stayed on her face and Spike bowed his head and looked up at her from under his lashes.  "Vampire stuff that I'm sure you
wouldn't appreciate..."

With that she turned on her heel, thinking he meant getting his supply of fresh blood delivered.

"Back here in half an hour, love," he called out watching with a smile as she walked away.  Once he was certain she wasn't going to turn back he went into the magic
shop.  As usual it was practically empty.  The sole occupant was the shopkeeper who was happily rushing over to Spike, smile gracing her lips as the usual 'blessed be'
slipped through them.

"Yeah, I need some stuff..." Spike muttered glancing around the shop at the various supplies and bits and pieces.

"What exactly were you looking for?"

"Well..." he paused for a moment not knowing where to start.  "You know the little redheaded witch, about yay tall, big green eyes?"

"Yes, Willow.  She hasn't been in for some time..." the shopkeeper paused and looked at Spike sceptically.

"Everything she's ever bought, or would need, I want," Spike blatantly disregarded the 'no smoking' sign and lit up a cigarette, moving over to the display case that
held ritual Athames and chalices.

"Umm...I suppose I could..." she hesitated, her eyes taking in his appearance and backing away slightly.  "Why, exactly do you need..."

"I just do," he turned from the cabinet and took a long drag on his cigarette, smirking at the very sight of the woman cowering away from him.  He dropped the
cigarette down and took two steps forward, so he was towering over her and exhaled.  "Get the key."

"What?" she whispered.

"For the display case, pet," he smirked as he turned away, taking another deep drag and examining the various items it held.  He only half listened to her nervous
ramblings and explanations as she moved about, fetching the key and opening up the case.  Ignoring her idiotic questions he started pulling out the various athames,
not really caring about the shopkeepers ongoing monologue about how many of the items had been blessed by various respected Wicca's.  Most of the ritual knives
were light and small with carved handles and dull blades.  Although pretty they had no real meaning and did nothing for him.

Then he spotted it.  A decadent silver number that seem to hide amongst the others.  There was something about this one that was obvious as soon as he picked it
up.  It was heavier than the rest, the curved handle was ornately engraved and on the heel was a stone.  Strength hidden by delicate detail, just like Willow.
Fascinated he ran his index finger along the blade slashing the flesh, leaving a trail of scarlet against the silver.  Cocking his head he rolled his wrist, tilting the blade
and catching the light.  He could see, in his mind, the perfect image of Willow lying on the bed, hands resting above her head as he ran the ornate knife down between
her breasts, pressing hard enough to draw blood.

"Fuck!" he screamed slamming the heel of his palm into his forehead, his grip tightening on the athame as the image was shattered by pain.

"Sir?" the shopkeeper took a few steps back, all the horror stories regarding the past shop owners and their untimely deaths being played on surround sound in her
mind.

"Fuck," he repeated as the pain died off to a dull ache.  Clenching his jaw he dropped his hand from his forehead and waited a moment, gathering his thoughts.  "How
long will it take for you to get everything ready?"

"Well, she's bought so much here," the storekeeper began only to be shot down by a withering stare from Spike.  "A few days."

He nodded.  "That'll suit me.  I'll need everything delivered..."

For the next fifteen minutes he wandered about the little shop giving orders, making demands and grabbing one or two books he deemed necessary.  Even as he left
by the back door, pocketing a receipt that would have most storeowners grinning, the poor woman who had so eagerly greeted him wondered if it was too soon to
consider early retirement.

Flicking the cigarette butt away Spike walked out of the alleyway back into the street where the bike was parked.  The few things he had taken with him from the
magic store, the books and athame, were neatly tucked away in his duster and now all he wanted was Willow so they could get on with their evening.  Scanning the
street he stopped dead in his tracks as he spotted her, the jacket slung around her waist leaving her arms exposed in the sleeveless green turtleneck she wore,
chatting merrily with some bloke who looked vaguely familiar.  Clenching his jaw he walked towards the couple.  From the position they were in he couldn't see
Willow's face, he could hear her though, making small chat then she mentioned a name.  Graham.  Spike didn't miss a beat as his arm stretched out and he ran his
fingers across the smooth flesh of her upper arm.  He'd heard mention of Graham, another commando, one of Riley's chums.  Keeping his eye's fixed on Graham's he
spooned in behind her, his free arm slipping casually about her waist as he continued to stroke her arm.  Even as she leant back against him the hold tightened and his
eyes darkened with promises of death should this Graham even consider doing anything than talking to her.

"Ready to go, love?" Spike murmured, his mouth brushing against her ear, his fingers kept drawing lazy slow strokes on her arm.

"Yep," she shifted slightly to glance at him, her hand resting on the arm wrapped about her waist.  "You took your time, did you get everything done?"

"Everything I need for the time being..." he paused and kissed her lips lightly, his hand leaving her arm to wrap across her chest.

"Well, we should get going then," she smiled and looked back to Graham.  "See you later Graham, thanks for your help with the books."

"Not a problem," Graham acknowledged as Spike shifted and turned them away from him.  For a moment he stood and watched as they walked away, separating then
coming together again, Spike's arm wrapped tightly around Willow's waist as he took the bag of books from her hand, kissing her and whispering something in her ear
that made her laugh.  Once they reached the bike the books were tucked away and as Spike helped Willow on with her jacket Graham received a look that made him
turn around and wander away, leaving the couple to themselves.  Shaking his head and burying his hands in his pockets he walked down to the coffee shop.

"Hey Graham," Graham glanced around, spotting Riley sitting at one of the many tables spread about the shop, and made his way over.

"Hey," Graham offered as he sat down next to his mate.  "Where's Buffy?"

"She's in the bathroom, cleaning herself up," offered Riley twisting the coffee cup on the table around.  "Some idiot on a bike tried to run her over."

"A bike?" Graham frowned and then smiled wistfully.  "Probably Willow's boyfriend.  Strikes me as the sort that'd be in for that..."

"What?" asked Riley, the comment immediately catching his attention.  "Oz is back?"

"No, her new guy," Graham frowned at his friend.  "You know bit taller than her, older, blond hair, English, had a big BMW, tourer I think, and lots of leather to go with
it...not someone I'd thought she'd go out with..."

"Blond, English and wearing leather?  Are you sure they were, you know, together?  He could have just been a friend..."

"Friends?" asked Graham dubiously, he shook his head and leant back in the chair, smiling slightly.  "Yeah sure, if you hold hands with a friend, not to mention
swapping some serious spit and playing touchy feely with each other..."

"But...she...blond and English?" stuttered Riley, not believing the description.  "No, you must have been mistaken.  She'd never date a...a...an English guy."

"Well, she dated a musician before didn't she?" Graham asked glancing about the coffee shop.

"Yeah but that's way different to a..." Riley looked at his friend and shook his head.  The only blond, leather loving Englishman he was aware of Willow associating with
was Spike, a hostile, a vampire.  "Brit."

"David Bowie," stated Graham.  "Not to mention Billy Idol.  Of course there's Mick Jagger and John Lennon."

"What?" Riley asked, totally confused by his friends apparent fondness for naming musicians.

"They're all English AND musicians."

"What's so special about being English and musicians?" asked Buffy as she sat down next to Riley, still looking very much like the drown rat.

"Nothing," said Riley smiling broadly at her.

"Then why mention it?"

"We were just talking about Willow," Graham offered, only to be cut off by Riley.

"And her love of...of..." Riley struggled for a moment, wondering if Buffy knew of the astounding facts just presented to him by Graham.

"English musicians," Graham interjected, sensing his friend's discomfort.

"English musicians?"  Buffy asked sceptically.  She glanced between the two friends and raised her eyebrows.  "I didn't know that.  Although..."

"What?" Riley asked, wondering what his girlfriend knew.  Buffy shrugged.

"I was just thinking I haven't seen much of her since Oz left, so I wouldn't really know.  She's always going home, or spending time studying, or I'm not there," she
looked at Riley and they shared a secret smile.  Riley shook his head and decided to steer the conversation back to the problem at hand.

"So," he tried to sound casual.  "Has she been seeing anyone lately?"

"Willow?  No, she's not mentioned anyone and she's been so busy..." Buffy glanced up at Graham and smiled.  "Maybe we could arrange a double date with you two,"
she turned around and grabbed Riley by his sleeve.  "Don't you think that'd be great?  Graham and Willow would be perfect for each other."

"No," it was a clear and persuasive and absolute denial.  Graham stood up and shifted uncomfortably on his feet, he could remember the unspoken threat that the
leather fiends blue eyes had held not so long ago.  No way was he stepping on anyone's toes.  "No, no, no.  Wouldn't really be a good idea.  Gee, look at the time, I've
got to go."

With that he turned and left, leaving behind two very bemused individuals.  Buffy frowned and watched Grahams fleeing form.  "Well that was odd."

***

"What is this?" asked Willow, panic creeping into her voice.  Spike smirked and closed the double doors behind them so she couldn't run away, as he fully expected her
to try and do.  It had taken him nearly a week to get everything together, longer than he expected to fix up this room especially for Willow, for her magical studies, and
he fully intended to make sure she used it, no matter how much of a protest she made.

"Somewhere for you to practice your casting," Spike said smugly, taking her hand and leading her deeper into the room.  He was quite proud of everything he'd done.
He'd widened the doorway, putting in double doors with heavy dark stained glass panels, and stripped the interior so he could start from scratch.  The dark colours of
the room had been replaced by soothing pale walls with a hint of soft purple.  One wall was a bookcase, a few books sat on the shelves along with various magical bits
and bobs in jars and boxes.  A small stereo system and collection of various CDs were also stored in the bookcase within easy reach while speakers sat in each of the
four corners of the room.  Opposite the bookcase, on the other side of the room, was a large marble fireplace.  The room also housed a large desk with a comfortable
leather chair, a rocking chair and other little bits of pieces. But the most significant part was the large circle in the middle of the floor.  He'd stripped back the floor and
painted the circle in a deep purple before sealing the boards and colour with a high gloss lacquer.  To show it all off to her he'd lit dozens of candles, most of them
scattered about while a number of them sat at various points on the outline of the casting circle.

"We've been through this before..." began Willow, trying to pull her hand away from his as she took in the beautiful room.

"No, you've stated that you can't, when we both know that's a load of crap," Spike stopped in front of the circle and turned to face her.  "You cursed the poof, love.
That takes a strength about which you have no real understanding.  You possess that strength, it's part of you...a big part of you."

"Spike, I...can't," she stumbled over the words.  "Look at what happen the last few times..."

"And where did you perform those?  Somewhere that was unique to you?" Spike asked, bringing her in closer, speaking softly.  He glanced about the room.  "This
Willow, is yours, only yours.  For you and your magic.  It has everything you need."

"So did the other places," she argued.  Spike laughed and shook his head.

"No, they didn't," he sighed and pursed his lips together, bringing his hand up to caress her face.  "Look love, tell you what.  Do a cleansing spell...just one spell, a
simple incantation.  If it doesn't work, then fine, I'll rip this all down and burn the bloody lot.  But if it works then you use this room...on a regular basis."

She was quiet for a moment, glancing about the room with its soft colours and the candles burning, finally going back to Spike.

"It's just an incantation?"

"Yes, simple straightforward English," he could see the mixed emotions in her eyes and smiled softly.  "I'll be here, pet, nothing will go wrong."

She chewed her bottom lip for a moment, turning away from him facing the circle and hesitatingly took a few steps towards it, pausing as her foot fell on the dark
purple of the outline.  Taking a deep breath she closed her eyes briefly before stepping across the line and walking into the centre where one of Giles' books lay open
at the spell.  She dropped down, crossing her legs and picked up the book, resting it in her lap, her eyes taking in the incantation.

From outside the circle Spike watched her like a hawk, never taking his eyes off her as she shut hers and concentrated, starting the chant, softly speaking the words.
He could feel it, the energy as she called on it, making the flames burn brighter and slightly higher, a rush of warm air and it was done.  The chant was completed and
she opened her eyes to a still room and Spike staring at her.  As she closed the book he walked toward the circle and was pulled up short at the edge by some sort of
barrier.

"What the bloody hell?" he swore to himself, pushing against the invisible barrier and frowning.

"Spike?"  Willow asked standing up and tossing the book aside.  She reached out, her fingers entwining with his and couldn't pull her hand back.  Her face furrowed in
fear.  "What's going on?"

Spike stepped back, keeping a firm grip on Willow's hand, and threw himself at the boundary of the circle, once more coming into contact with a barrier.  It was solid
for him, but Willow's hand and arm could pass through it with ease.

"Willow," he growled at her, his thumb caressing her hand, calming her.  "Invite me in."

"What?"

"Invite me in," he repeated, standing as close to the circle as the barrier would let him and kissing her hand.

"Come in, Spike," as soon as the words left her lips the barrier disappeared and Spike stepped into the circle, capturing her other hand and grinning.  She watched
amazed as she realised that she had made the circle exclusively hers with the casting.  "Wow."

"You can't deny what you are Willow," he fixed his gaze on her as he turned them about in the circle, inching his body closer to hers.  He could feel the air buzzing
around them, feel the warmth radiating off her body.  "You're strong, you need to do this, love.  I can feel it...the heat," he brushed his lips across hers and tilted his
head.  "The power.  The magic.  You can't deny it Willow, or it will destroy you."

"What if it destroys me anyway?" Willow whispered, pressing against him.

"Won't happen, love," he kissed her again, his tongue brushing against her moist lips, teasing them open and delving into her warm mouth.  Breaking the kiss he
smiled down at her.  "I won't let it."

He was rewarded with a small smile and eyes full of trepidation.  "Promise?"

"Promise, love," he whispered smiling before kissing his way down to her neck  "Now..." he nuzzled her neck.  "Can you do the impotence curse on Xander?  It'll be
fun..."
 

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