The Charms of Dancing

Author: Anastasia

Summary: Angst, sex and dancing...my twisted idea of romance.

Spoiler: This story is set late in Season Three of BtVS. For my own reasons Faith did not remain in Sunnydale nor is the Mayor any sort of threat.
Yes, yes, I know, destroy the whole season.  Set a few months after "Lovers Walk".

A/N: A little warning, this story is nothing but romantic drivel ~ you know, fluff and drivel.

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~Part: 1~

The Bronze was, as usual, crowded. Bodies writhing against each other under the cover of dancing, hands lingered or strayed in intimate caresses as blood, laden with lust and hormones, pounded through the dancers, keeping pace with the frantic tempo the music set.  Amongst this throng of foreplay one couple stood out, perhaps it was due to the dramatic differences between the two individuals, a small waif of a blonde held in the arms of a tall, dark individual, someone who wasn’t even a man and was centuries older than he appeared.  The quintessential contradiction, the Slayer and her vampire boyfriend, lovers who could, under the cover of dancing, hold each other close in a pale imitation of the act of love that could never be realized.

From her spot on one of the many couches scattered around the Bronze, Willow watched her friends.  Watched as they set each other on fire, as Angel pulled Buffy impossibly closer to his writhing body, their arms tightly wrapped about each other in their need as they swayed together.  Willow was so engrossed by her friends sensual dance that she totally missed the lean body settling down next to her on the couch, never heard the booted feet coming to rest on the low coffee table in front of her, nor did she sense the arm that was casually slung across the back of the couch even though it nearly brushed against her shoulders.  Not once did Willow realize that she had become trapped in the corner of the couch, instead she watched her friends and their desperate dance.

"Hello, little girl," the North London accent and smirking attitude of the voice startled Willow from her preoccupation and her eyes widened in disbelief as she turned to find Spike.  Anticipating her reaction to jump up and run screaming in horror to the Slayer, he placed a light restraining hand on her arm. "Now, now, pet, no need to fret.  I’ve already eaten, just thought I’d pop in for some entertainment."

With that he let her go and began searching through his pockets for his cigarettes. All she could do was stare at him dubiously, mouth agape at his arrogance.

"D..d..don’t you think you could have picked a..a..a better spot?" she stuttered as he pulled out a cigarette and tapped it on the back of the pack. "I mean Buffy is just over there."

Willow jerked her head in the general direction of the dance floor, knowing full well that Angel and Buffy were clearly visible on the dance floor even though they were still dancing, totally oblivious to all that was going on around them.  Spike looked toward the couple and let out a muffled snort as he lit his cigarette.

"Slayer’s too wrapped up in that great poof to notice poor little me," he stuck his bottom lip out in a mock pout and he turned to grin wickedly at the redhead. "So that just leaves you, witch."

"Me? For what," she gulped, swallowing back the growing fear and thinking that it was not the best question to ask a vampire who was so blasé about the Slayer being only a few feet away. She couldn’t help but tense as Spike’s smirk fell away and his blue eyes fixed on her, an unfathomable gaze that she couldn’t break, certain that if she tried to she’d be dead before she could blink.  His silence was almost as unnerving as his gaze and she considered her options, the best of which was trying to distract him long enough for the music to stop and Buffy to save her from the blond.  The best way to distract most people was to ask about their love life and Willow supposed it wasn’t any different for vampires.  “So…how’d things go with Drusilla?  Where is she?”

Willow tried her best to look interested and not terrified, but her forehead wrinkled with worry while her mouth twisted into what she hoped would pass for a ‘I really care’ smile.  There was the distinctive scent of fear in the air and Spike smirked at her, his eyes wantonly roaming over her as he licked his lips, which of course only distressed the redhead even more.

"She’s out and about,” he said with a flick of his wrist towards the door of the Bronze.  “Stumbling around the countryside trying to find me."

"Oh, so she’s here in Sunnydale," Willow asked, risking a brief glance over her shoulder to the dance floor and the still oblivious couple.

"God no," he practically roared with laughter at that and Willow’s eyes widened even more.  The almost maniacal laughter surely had to attract the attention of Buffy, or at least Angel who would easily have been able to recognize it.  But as Spike glanced over her shoulder, she realized that it hadn’t.  He took a deep drag on his cigarette before removing it and watching the glowing cherry.  "I left her in Brazil. A small amount of torture and she was quite happy to follow me around – got a bit boring after a while. She wants me, now she can come and get me! Last I heard she wasn’t doing to bad – she should be here within the week," he knocked the ash off the end of his cigarette and glanced up at Willow before turning his attention to the dance floor, shaking his head at the wanton display.  "Look at that bloody pathetic excuse for dance."

Willow turned her head, watching the multitude of couples writhing and riving together. Behind her, Spike inched closer, leaning forward to take in the same scene.  She wasn’t aware that he’d moved, that he was so intimately close, until she turned her head again and her forehead nearly collided with his.  He was intently staring at the crowded dance floor and the various couples on it, but thankfully he was quite content to carry on with the conversation.

"I mean what’s the challenge, eh? Lock bodies together and squirm? It’s disgusting," he spat the last word out and fixed his eyes on Willow once more. "So how come you’re not out there, rubbing up against a body?"

"Well, Oz … he’s um, well he’s not, you know, here," she didn’t even try to smile this time, he was too close for comfort and she had to force herself to remain seated, not to follow her instinct and get up and run screaming from him.

"Oz?" he questioned, not taking his eyes off Willow and she broke his gaze, her eyes wandering down to take in the pale hand that held his cigarette.

"Yeah, you know. Oz…my boyfriend,” she grimaced and would have slapped herself for giving away personal information to some blood-sucking fiend, but her hands were clenched into fists and firmly caught under her folded arms.  It was time for another diversion, preferably away from her personal life and back to something that may eventually attract Buffy’s attention, so she glanced back at the dance floor.  “What’s wrong with the dancing? I think it’s, kinda, well, kinda, sexy."

She regretted the comment as soon as it left her mouth. Willow was quite certain that there were any number of big no-nos when it came to conversations with bloodthirsty vampires, two of which were definitely giving away personal details and the mention of anything vaguely sexual.  The massive blunder, coupled with the knowledge of Spike’s gaze still heavily fixed on her, made her blush furiously and she glanced away.

"Well, Willow," he let her name rumble in his throat as he spoke softly into her ear and she bit her tongue, her eyes wildly fixing on the couple who were continuing their dance. "There’s no challenge. It may be sexy, but it isn’t exactly seduction, is it?" Hesitantly, Willow glanced up, meeting his cold blue eyes for a brief moment before she turned back to the scene playing out on the dance floor.  "There’s nothing seductive or powerful in two individuals blatantly rubbing up against each other, coping a quick grope and a cheap thrill.  It’s nothing more than crap.  Now give me the tango or even good old jive, that’s what dancing is about.  You see it’s more than just moving to music.”  Willow couldn’t help it, she had to look at him.  But he wasn’t watching her, or at least it didn’t seem like he was, his attention had wandered and his eyes had darkened with an intensity that Willow didn’t recognize or understand.  “It’s about power and control, domination, in a way it’s about trust,” In the dark confines of the club his eyes appeared nearly black as they locked on hers again and he tilted his head, watching her intently. “One person in complete control while the other yields to their every whim, the result is nothing more than mind-blowing pleasure.  The chance meeting of flesh, that teasing feel of fingers caressing skin, the tantalizing sensation of bodies intimately moving together.  When you dance, there’s nothing else, no one else except the person you hold in your arms, you know what you want and what your partner wants.  Dancing is not this bloody bury your body in mine crap.  Which, by the by, is only sexy, Willow, because you know no better…if you really knew how to dance, if you knew the charms of dancing, then you’d be able to see what this,” he flicked his cigarette butt towards the dance floor. “Really is ~ nothing more than a nauseating sham.  You only dance with your boyfriend? That’s new."

"What?" Willow frowned, snapping out of the trance that his words had created and she drew back slightly.  It had to be an illusion, he was trying to fool her, throw her off guard, and she silently berated herself for being so stupid as to fall for it.

"Got to go, little girl. The sensual petting zoo is about to come to an end," before she could even ask what he meant the music stopped and she glanced towards the dance floor in time to see Buffy and Angel reluctantly pull apart.  By the time she turned back, he was gone, lost in the crowd of the Bronze and Willow’s frown deepened.

"What?" Willow said, more to herself than anyone else, still contemplating Spike’s bizarre comment on her boyfriend.

"What, what?" asked Buffy as she flopped next to Willow, flushed and frustrated. Angel stood, looking equally frustrated, unfortunately, being a vampire, flushed didn’t really work for him.

"Nothing…I…I thought I heard someone call me. You know, um, Bronze, people call out names all the time – might have meant me, could have, easily, I’m sure.  So, I was just saying what for the person who called me," she offered, brow wrinkling, knowing full well that she should tell Buffy of the conversation with Spike, or at least Spike’s presence. But for some reason she couldn’t do it and she found herself gracing the couple with the remnant of a reassuring smile. "Must have been some other Willow, though. No one answered."

"Lots of other Willows? Sure. You had more coffee, didn’t you, Will?" Buffy quirked an eyebrow in question and shook her head. Thankfully she turned her attention to the still agitated Angel and her manner became lascivious, causing him to wince. "Are you going to stand for the rest of the night, ‘cause if you are I’d rather do it on the dance floor."

"No, I’ve really got to get going," he stated, a small apologetic smile gracing his lips as he raised his hands in surrender.

"Well, I should patrol. I could walk with you if you like?" Buffy suggested, smiling seductively.  “Make sure you get home alright.”

"What about Willow?" he queried and Willow let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She certainly didn’t want to walk home on her own with Spike roaming about, spending one song sitting on the couch with him was more than enough bonding time for her and she didn’t think that she get off quite so easily the next time.

"Hey guys," Xander broke the silence that had been impregnating the little group.

"Xander, I thought you weren’t coming back until Sunday," cried Willow, joyful of the distraction he caused.

"Well I knew you guys couldn’t spend a Friday night without me," he joked, throwing himself down between the two girls on the couch and he grinned.

"Joyous family occasion was cancelled then?" asked Buffy.

"In a word, yes. So here I am. What say we party on?" he grinned at the girls while doing a little shimmying on the couch between them.

"Well, I was thinking of going home,” Willow shrugged, wondering if she could ask Angel to walk her home if he was leaving as he’d stated.  They’d left together on a number of occasions and each time he’d walk her home, generally in silence, but it was still appreciated and tonight it would be a great comfort to have the dark haired vampire’s company.  “I have a heap of stuff I want to do.”

"And I was just about to go and patrol." Buffy added.

"Okay, patrolling sounds good. Scary, but better than a lonely Bronze," Xander didn’t even wait for Angel to say anything. "Let’s go, Buffy. Hey Dead Boy, you’ll see Willow gets home okay?"

Xander didn’t even wait for an answer before he jumped up and started pulling Buffy towards the door.  The last glimpse they caught of Buffy was a forlorn wave as she and Xander disappeared into the crowd.

“You don’t mind, do you?” asked Willow, suddenly hesitant about putting the vampire out and Angel shook his head.

“Not at all.  Shall we?”

The crowd was dying off, most of the couples that had been on the dance floor were linking hands and leaving so that they could head off to lovers lane or the other various parking spots around Sunnydale and they easily found their way out of the Bronze.  Willow stuck close to his side, suddenly wary of exactly what the night held.  But the longer they walked, moving away from the central district and into suburbia, the more Willow found herself considering the strange conversation with Spike.

"Angel?" Willow shot a glance at the vampire by her side. He was in serious brood mode, eyes downcast and hands thrust deeply in the pockets of his jacket.

"Mmm?" he replied.

"Do you like dancing?" she looked forward and into the dimness of the night and so she missed him swinging his head to look at her.

"Well, I suppose so," his brow furrowed as he looked at her, surprised by the question.

"I guess you’ve seen a lot of dancing in your time. Which did you like best?" she kept her eyes forward even though she was eager for the answer.

"Um, I don’t know. I guess in their own way they all have their merits. I haven’t really thought about which I prefer. Why the sudden interest?" he asked, turning his attention back to the night.

"Someone made a comment tonight…about today’s style of dance and how it didn’t, well, um, didn’t present much of a, well, a challenge..." Willow could feel herself blushing and just let her stuttering statement hang in the air.

"I’ve never really thought of it…that way," he cleared his throat and glanced at Willow again. He couldn’t remember seeing her speak with anyone but Buffy and himself and he wondered who exactly she’d been speaking with since it seemed to be a strange subject to discuss. The fleeting thought was disrupted as the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and he placed his arm across Willow’s stomach to halt her movements and brought a finger to his lips to indicate his need for silence. Turning his head, he listened.  He could hear nothing, but the unmistakable aroma of vampire drifted through the night air. "Come on, let’s get you home."

"What is it?" she received no answer except a guiding hand on her arm hurrying her along.

The rest of the walk was spent in silence as Angel lost his need to brood and Willow favored the need to take it up. Her mind kept wandering back to the conversation with Spike. She hated to admit it, but he was right. If you liked a guy and wanted to let him know, it was easy to wait for a slow song and then ask him to dance. No challenge. Not that she had actually ever done that, but it was a known trick of the "Do You Like Me" game. Then again there were the comments Spike had made about the other types of dancing. Those comments sent Willow into a kaleidoscope of thoughts concerning the type of dancing she had seen in her life. Xander’s dances did nothing for her, apart from amusement. Buffy and Angel, well their style of dance was exactly what Spike thought of as unchallenging. Other occasions, when she had seen people other than her immediate peers dancing, had been affairs where everyone had consumed copious amounts of alcohol and their main objectives had been staying upright and trying, unsuccessfully for the most part, to dance in time to the music.

"Willow…Willow…Willow" it was a case of third time lucky for Angel to break through the barrier of thoughts that had surrounded her.

"What?!" she jumped back, startled and glanced up, her mouth dropped open in surprise as she found herself standing in front of her house.

"Are you okay, Willow?” Angel asked, watching as she fumbled with her keys. “You seem distracted."

"Oh. Oh. I’m fine, just …" she couldn’t think of anything to justify her current frame of mind and she looked up to see Angel studying her intently. "Tired! Really tired. Long day and night. So I’ll go inside now and you can go. Unless you want to come in…or not…"

Willow hated it when she rambled, it was generally a dead give away, of nerves, of a guilty conscience, of any number of things. Of course, dropping her keys didn’t help any.  Before she could retrieve them, Angel picked them up, slotted the key into her front door and opened it up for her.

"No, if you’re tired I’ll let you go," he stated, narrowing his eyes as he watched her.  She was still fumbling with her keys, trying to get it out of the front door and he crossed her threshold, easily pulling the keys free of the lock and handing them to her.

“Thanks,” she murmured, blushing slightly and waiting for him to leave.  “Okay…well…bye.”

"Goodnight, Willow," Angel stated quietly, he hesitated on the threshold for a moment, thrusting his hands deep into the pockets of his coat.  “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Yeah, I just need a hot bath and a good nights sleep,” Willow smiled up at him shyly.  Silently, he nodded, turned on his heel and left, disappearing into the night as soon as he stepped out of the light of the porch. She shut the door, checked the bolts and leant against it.  She hadn’t lied, she’d told the truth ~ she was tired.  All right, so she hadn’t told the complete truth, but she hadn’t lied…not really.  Anyway, she was too tired to think about it anymore and she pushed herself away from the door, wandering up to the bathroom to draw a deep, hot bath.  With the water running, she walked back to her room to pick up her PJ’s and turn the radio on.  There was nothing like music to soothe the mind.

Although Willow had to admit as she stripped off her clothes and tossed them into the clothes basket in the corner of the bathroom, that it tormented rather than soothed tonight.  Her mind was beleaguered by the conversation with Spike, it had quirked her interest, maybe annoyed her a little that he was so egotistical to believe that she didn’t have the faintest idea what he was talking about.  Of course she’d danced before, with her friends and in that special way with Oz, it was enough to make her think that Spike had just been playing with her.  For whatever reason, she didn’t know and as she slipped into the warm water, she didn’t really care.  The music played on as she let the heat of the water work away the aches and stresses of the day.  Smiling as a popular tune came on, she tapped her foot in time to the beat and sang along, clearing her mind of the thoughts that plagued her.

As is always the way, Willow’s peace was shattered some ten minutes later, by the piercing shrill of the ‘phone. Tensing in the water, she waited, listening for the machine to pick up the call.  The familiar sound of her mother’s voice carried down the hallway as the recorded message announced that no one was available to take the call and a shrill beep resounded down the hall.

"Hey Wills, it’s Buffy. Just calling to see if you’re okay, Angel said you seemed a bit wigged. I guess you must be sleeping…Look, we’re out on patrol at the moment, I’ll probably be home in about an hour, so if you want to talk or anything, give me a call…or definitely call me in the morning and we’ll do something…yeah…okay…I hate these things, bye."

"Okay, bye Buffy," Willow yelled, giggling to herself as she scrubbed at her face with her hands.  It was then that she realized she was turning into a prune and she grimaced, reaching down and pulling the plug.  Lazily, she toweled off, smothered herself with Freemans Raspberry body lotion and pulled on her PJ’s, a pair of midnight blue silk shorts and a white cotton tank top.  Turning off the bathroom light, she sauntered back to her room and grabbed her laptop, taking it to her bed so she could check her email.  Not a lot was going on, a few well wishes and techno-pagan gossipy notes from friends, queries from acquaintances and various pieces of junk mail.  She hated those and she was considering exactly how to seek her revenge on their mailbox clogging ways when a light but persistent tapping from her French doors distracted her.  Frowning, she glanced at the clock, it was barely one in the morning.

"Willow, help me,” a strangled cry of pain came from outside, accompanied by another gentle rap.  The voice was intangible and she couldn’t place it and she frowned, pushing her laptop aside.  “I can’t…Willow…help me…”

Her thoughts immediately went to Buffy, they were out on patrol, obviously not too far away if Angel had met up with them so quickly.  Without hesitating she ran to the doors and flung them open, stepping out to help her friend only to have cold fingers encircle her wrist and firmly tug her further from the safety of her room.

"Lord, that was just too easy!" Spike declared, wrapping his arm about her waist and twirling her about as he laughed.

She was going to die.  Willow knew that, was certain of it as soon as she heard his comment and the contemptuous laughter.  The world continued to spin and it seemed fitting that her impending death would take place while she was in a dazed and confused state…that was if he was going to kill her quickly. Oh dear lord, she was going to be dessert, after all he had stated at the Bronze that he’d already eaten.  As the world spun faster, Willow closed her eyes, the only thing she was really aware of was Spike’s cool, confining grip on her wrist.

"Well, fancy seeing you here," the world came to a halt, leaving Willow standing on the lawn in the middle of her backyard, with Spike smirking at her.

Suddenly, she was hit by the most absurd thought ever ~ she was going to die, in her own backyard…without underwear!  She was going to die at the hands of some blood-sucking fiend and her only concern was underwear…she just knew she was panicking, she had to be considering the absurd reasoning of her thought process.  She probably would have continued to panic had Spike not interrupted.

"You know, love" he gave a small snort of laughter as he moved his body close to hers, his eyes fixing on hers and he reached out, gently pushing her hair back from her face, letting his thumb trace the contour of her cheek.  "We’re really going to have to stop meeting like this…people will start to talk!"

Snapping out of her panic induced stupor, Willow jerked back from his touch, only she forgot about his hold on her wrist.  The pain was enough to make her hiss and whimper, and she made the mistake of glancing up at him.  There was no trace of humor, the smirk was gone, replaced by a detached expression and his eyes…his eyes were terrifying, cold and empty.  For all intents and purposes he appeared to be studying Willow intently, trying to work out the next move in this little game and he stepped in close to her.

"Why don’t you scream?" he rumbled slowly into her ear. Willow wasn’t sure if it was a suggestion or a question and she darted her eyes up to glance at him, but seeing his face devoid of emotion she dropped her gaze again. "Go on…scream!"

Spike accentuated his words with an almost crushing pressure on Willow’s wrist.  That, combined with the increasing certainty of her impending death, enticed an ear-splitting, glass-shattering scream of desperation to leave her. As the scream died on her lips, Willow became aware of Spike’s low laughter.

"Slayer," he called out in a singsong voice while leading Willow deeper into the shadows of her backyard. "I’ve got one of your friends to play with…oh, that’s right, she and the wanker king are on the other side of town. Your neighbors don’t seem too concerned, so I guess that leaves you all to me…doesn’t that sound smashing?"

Spike stopped his movements and swung to face Willow, a huge grin breaking through the previous mask of stoicism.

"What do you want?" Willow hesitantly whispered and silently berated herself for being so stupid, he was going to kill her and she was asking what he wanted.

"Mmm, well," Spike’s hold on her wrist loosened as his free hand slid around to the small of her back and the other moved up to hold onto her hand.  "I want to waltz."

"Waltz?" Willow stared into his piercing blue eyes, trying to gain some insight. Did he propose to waltz and then kill her?

"Waltz," he stated, gaining amusement from the sheer fear he could see in her eyes, not to mention the feel of it coursing through her body, making her tremble. There was something else though, working its way into her expression, slowly starting to override the fear and her brow furrowed with anger.  “You know, 1-2-3, 1-2-3…”

"I’m not going to waltz with you…you’re a blood sucking fiend," Willow protested as her earlier indignation of his arrogant attitude surfaced, especially with the sarcastic tone he took and she tried to step back, only to be stopped by the pressure of his hand on her back. Wonderful, she thought to herself, call him names, get him angry.  However, Spike didn’t look angry, if anything he looked amused.

"’Blood sucking fiend’ what sort of label is that? I prefer…" he seemed lost in thought for a moment, trying to come up with something more appropriate. "Homicidal maniac. Much more manly."

With that Spike grinned down at her and stepped back, pulling her forward.  The movement caused Willow to almost stumble and she grabbed at his shoulder, steadying herself in his arms.

“And now we have assumed the position," Spike lowered his head and voice slightly. "Would you care to waltz?"

"I can’t," Willow stated, somewhat tentatively and Spike arched an eyebrow in question. "I don’t have shoes on, we have no music and, and, well…I don’t know how to."

The last part of her argument was little more than a whisper.

"You don’t need shoes, I won’t step on you. As to music, it’s irrelevant. All you have to do is follow me. You’ll be waltzing in no time at all…trust me," he smirked as he pulled her forward again while stepping back.

"Trust you?! You’re a blood suck…er…you’re a self-confessed homicidal maniac. No offense meant, but they’re not the most sincerest of …" Willow lost herself for a moment, she was going to say ‘people’ but Spike wasn’t and she couldn’t really think of a suitable phrase.  But she didn’t have to as Spike cut her off.

"There you go again, sticking labels all over the place. If he’s a homicidal maniac he must be untrustworthy," again he stepped out, urging Willow to follow his lead. "I mean, just because an individual enjoys a good blood letting now and then doesn’t mean he can’t be trusted…although, you are right, I can’t be trusted. Just a flaw in my personality I guess. You know it hurts, really it does."

Sarcasm was dripping from his voice as he stuck his bottom lip out in a pout. All the time Willow had been listening to him, she hadn’t even realized that he was manipulating their bodies around her back yard in the perfect waltz. The cool breeze caused by the momentum of the simple dance caught her attention and she broke his gaze to look down at the ground.

"Oh, my," Willow gasped as she tried to follow him.  With conscious thought of actually dancing, she stumbled.

"Close your eyes, pet, and just feel,” Spike murmured as he continued to twirl Willow around. “Don’t even think about what you’re doing."

Willow wasn’t quite sure what to make of his demand.  Certainly if she closed her eyes then at least she wouldn’t be able to see when he went in for the kill, but….her thoughts were interrupted by Spike repeating his request and she glanced up at him. Frowning, she considered her position, agreeing with her previous thought that she really didn’t want to see him go in for the kill, and with a resigned sigh closed her eyes.

Willow felt like she was floating. It was the only way she could describe the sensations she was feeling. Spike, by means of the light pressure on the small of her back and his guiding hand wrapped in hers, was spiraling her into a world of sensational pleasure. She reasoned they must have been moving with some force, her hair was swinging and she could feel the air as they twirled around and around. The strength contained in Spike’s body was evident as they danced, as he maneuvered their bodies, twisting and twirling about the yard. It was a force that was under her hands, in the coolness of his skin, the feel of his wiry muscles as they moved and she sighed.  It was almost like she was Scarlett O’Hara, dancing with Rhett Butler and she smiled at the thought, but it slipped from her features as soon as it surfaced.  There was a difference, she wasn’t Scarlett and her potential Rhett was going to drain her blood at any moment.

Willow felt lost. She was only just aware of the grass beneath her bare feet, the coolness of the night air, the potential danger of her situation. And at this point in time, she didn’t care. Her only concern was the power she felt as she was held in Spike’s cool, strong arms as he maneuvered her around the yard. A yard, which in her mind’s eye, was nothing less than an old-world ballroom somewhere in Vienna. She could almost hear the string quartet playing an accompaniment to their dance. She didn’t want to stop, to stop would be nothing less than death.  The hand in the small of her back pulled her closer to him and she could feel him slow their movements until they gently rocking together, their bodies touching as she was held flush against him.  His cheek brushed against hers and as their movements came to a complete halt, she felt his moist, cool lips press against her throat.

"You smell like raspberries, love." Spike’s voice vibrated through his lips on her neck.

Willow’s knees went weak and she could have sworn she was falling.  With a thump, she landed on her ass in the middle of the yard and her eyes shot open to scan the surrounding night. There was no sign of Spike, no evidence that he had even been there, and nothing to suggest that he’d been waltzing Willow around her backyard. Slowly she pushed herself off the ground and brushed down her clothes, wincing at the tender pain in her buttocks.  Running her fingers along her neck, she could feel no bite marks, no massive flow of blood, nothing.  It didn’t settle her nerves any and turning on her heel, she made a mad dash back to her room, securely locking the door behind her. Relief and confusion swept through her body, which suddenly felt heavy and weary, and she craved the sanctuary of her bed, crawling in and pulling the covers up over her head.  She had to be sleep deprived, it was the only explanation she had for it, she couldn’t have just been waltzing in her backyard with Spike.  Maybe it had just been some whacked out dream, could have been, quite easily, fuelled by the conversation at the Bronze.  She closed her eyes, determined that tomorrow she would tell Buffy about Spike being at the club.

Willow was chatting merrily with John Cusack, sipping some exotic ice coffee topped with finely grated chocolate and orange peel and it was ringing.  Or maybe John Cusack was ringing.  Something was ringing.  The dreamscape disappeared and Willow blinked a few times, the crumpled bed linen slowly coming into focus.  Dragging her hand out from under the covers, she reached over and grabbed the phone that had disturbed her tête-à-tête with the delicious John Cusack.

"Hello?" the bedding she was hidden under muffled her voice.

"Wills! You want to go shopping? I really need some new clothes," a distant voice echoed through Willow’s mind.

"Buffy?" she mumbled in question. What was Buffy doing calling so early on a Saturday. "Why are you calling me so early?"

"Early?" Buffy laughed on the other end of the line. "It’s three o’clock in the afternoon, Willow.  Don’t tell me you’re still in bed? You must have been tired!"

"Ha, ha." Willow braved the terrors of throwing back her bed covers and glanced at the bedside clock.  Sure enough the clock read 3.03 pm, to be exact. "Oh God, it’s three o’clock!"

"Now you’re stating the obvious. So do we shop?" Buffy asked, silently waiting for an answer.

"Yes…yes. We shop," she couldn’t believe that she’d slept so long.  "I have to shower and change, though, but I shouldn’t be long."

"Okay, well I’ll head on over to your place. Do you think Xander would want to come? He has access to a car – could be handy."

"Sure, ask him. Who knows," Willow knew that if Buffy asked him, he’d be there in a flash. "I’ll see you in a while then."

"Done deed!" Buffy replied and rang off.

Willow pulled herself up in bed and suddenly hissed as a sharp pain stabbed through her wrist. Frowning, she cradled her brightly bruised wrist and she suddenly felt sick.  It hadn’t been a dream, Spike had been there, he’d waltzed her about the backyard.  Absently she began to stroke the marks as the memory of his firm cool grasp flooded her mind and the waltz, that surreal waltz in silk and bare feet.  Then guilt crashed down about her, she would have to tell Buffy, should have told Buffy and Angel last night at the Bronze when he’d first shown up.  Reluctantly, she pulled herself from the bed and prepared herself for the onslaught of the great shopping experience.

Three hours later and Willow still hadn’t told Buffy about Spike.  There were any number of reasons, but the main one had been the great shopping experience.

"Willow, this would be just perfect for you!" Buffy exclaimed as she held up a pascal pink fluffy sweater. Willow looked at it, cocking her head.  She’d already bought five items, all after Buffy had picked them and said the same catch cry.

"I think I’ve already spent enough today, Buffy. I’ll pass." Willow smiled at her friend. The one item she had picked off the rack to admire and consider for her, a midnight blue slip dress, was instantly snapped up by Buffy, exclaiming that it simply wasn’t Willow’s style. Willow had reluctantly agreed and watched quietly as Buffy stated that it did, however, suit herself to a tee.

"Well, what do you think about this – for me?" asked Buffy, picking up a lavender top.

"Yeah, it’s real nice Buffy." Willow looked at the top, she refrained from commenting that the color didn’t suit and glanced down at her watch. It was six o’clock already. "Buffy, weren’t you meant to meet Giles at six?"

"Yep, training. What a way to spend Saturday night," Buffy rolled her eyes.  “I thought we all might go out later on.”

"Better than being bag boy," muttered Xander under his breath. Watching Buffy trying on clothes, although in theory sounded good, in practice it meant hours of standing around holding things, fetching things and running for drinks, chocolate and anything else that caught the girls fancy.

"Well, you are going to be fifteen minutes late," Willow stated.

"What?" Buffy demanded, turning around to stare at Willow.

"It’s six now."

Buffy’s eyes widened and she grabbed Willow’s wrist to check the time. Unfortunately it was her bruised wrist and she gasped in pain.

“Willow, what happened to your wrist?” Buffy asked, her fingers running over the dark bruise that marred her otherwise pale flesh.

“It’s so silly, I slipped getting out of the bath last night,” Willow blatantly lied, for some reason she couldn’t bring herself to tell Buffy about Spike. But the look on the Slayer’s face made it obvious that the blonde wasn’t buying it.  “Honestly, I was so tired last night I was hallucinating, I couldn’t even get my keys in the lock of the front door…”

“See, this is why you shouldn’t drink so many mocha’s, Will, you just get all…” Xander paused and pulled a face, his bag ladled arms reaching for the sky. “Crazy.  You’ve got to cut down on the caffeine.”

"Are you sure?” asked Buffy and Willow nodded, pulling her wrist away from the blonde and cradling it close to her chest.  Buffy shook her head and sighed.  “Come on, guys. I have to go. You know how cranky Giles gets when I’m late."

In reality Giles had long ago realized Buffy was always going to be late and had adjusted his thoughts accordingly. He always told her to meet him half an hour earlier than the intended time. It was saving him gaining an ulcer.

"Giles, I’m so sorry. We were held up at the mall," Buffy gushed as she pushed open the double doors and strode into the library.

"Yes, I’m sure that the entire vampire population of Sunnydale decided that the sales were an opportunity too good to pass up," Giles glanced up from the book he was reading. "But you’re here now and we have work to do."

Before Buffy could even open her mouth to suggest that they should forget formal training and let her do a cardiovascular workout on the dance floor of the Bronze, the library doors flew open and Angel walked in.

"We’ve got a problem." Angel said, immediately drawing everyone’s attention. "Spike’s back."

Willow closed her eyes briefly, silently thankful that they knew, it meant that she didn’t have to say anything.  The relief was short lived, Angel was upset, agitated, and she wondered if she should say something.  But really it was too late to say that she’d seen him the previous evening, especially considering all the questions it would raise and since nothing really happened that she considered to be important.  Spike pestering her, dancing with her, had merely been a game, like a cat playing with a mouse, she was just lucky that he hadn’t gone in for the kill and there was no need to worry her friends unnecessarily with the details.  She glanced about the room, there was a general look of shock on everyone’s faces.

"Are you sure?" Willow asked, a frown wrinkling her forehead and Angel glanced at her before turning back to Giles and Buffy.

"Damn sure. I interrupted his evening meal and let’s just say he was none to please," Angel grimaced, rubbing his jaw where Spike had landed a heavy punch during their little altercation.

"Well, this is something. Why would Spike come back to Sunnydale?" Giles asked.

"Last time he wanted a love spell for Drusilla," Angel paused and looked at Willow. "Could be that his plan didn’t work and he’s returning to the previous idea of a spell."

"Oh, yes. I see." Giles removed his glasses and sucked thoughtfully on the arm. "If that’s the case, he might be focusing on Willow…but then again, surely he would have found it easier to go to a more experienced Wicca or source. No offense, Willow. I just mean someone closer to where he was. Less time consuming than coming all the way back here. Makes far more sense if it were a love spell he was after."

Silently, she was begging, pleading that they wouldn’t ask for her opinion or if she knew anything and Willow could feel the room start to become tiny, feel the walls collapsing in on her.

"Hey don’t worry, we won’t let him get near you," Buffy misinterpreted her friends’ expression for fear and not a reflection of the inner turmoil that was actually going on.

"Well, we can’t really form any plan of action until we know why he’s here. There’s nothing going on that you know of Angel? No particular vampire activity?" Giles queried.

"Giles, if you haven’t noticed – this is the Hellmouth. You know, freaky vampire episodes – regular occurrence," Xander stated the obvious, earning a deadly glare from the Watcher.

"I was referring to mass gatherings, perhaps some important event that would require Spike’s presence," continued Giles, not taking his withering scowl from Xander.

"Nothing," Angel replied. "In fact it’s been pretty quiet, relatively speaking."

"There is one way we could find out why he’s here," Buffy announced and everyone turned to look at her. "Ask him."

"Oh, great idea. I’m sure he would be happy to tell us exactly what big evil thing he has planned," stated Xander sarcastically, rolling his eyes and throwing his hands up in the air.

"Yes, well. Xander seems once again seems to have mastered the understatement. I don’t think Spike would be that forthcoming with information," Giles rubbed his temple, trying to put off the inevitable headache he could feel building up.

"I don’t know, a bit of friendly Slayer coercion might loosen his tongue," Buffy grinned.

"I think Buffy’s right. But…" Angel cut off Buffy’s I-know-all attitude induced stance and smile. "It would be better if I went."

Giles glanced at the people gathered around him. Perhaps Angel would be able to get something out of the blond vampire using his tact.  The Watcher thought it unlikely that Buffy would have any success in that area, her total distaste for Spike was apparent and it would be of no use to them if she staked him on the spot without getting any information. Whatever Spike’s reason for returning to Sunnydale, Giles wasn’t happy. Spike had a well-earned reputation for being meticulous in his planning and having a devious mind – it had only been fluke chances that he had previously been foiled in his earlier activities.

"I agree, Angel. Buffy, you can stay with us and help research. We will have to check for any upcoming events, prophecies, see if we can come up with any likely explanation," Giles put his glasses back on and headed off to his faithful books. Willow sighed, moving toward the computer and Xander flopped onto a chair at the table.

"But," Buffy began to argue. "What about safety in numbers? What if Spike tries to hurt you? Surely I should go with you."

Angel just shook his head.

"It’s better I go alone. I’ll be back soon, I promise," he whispered, stooping to kiss her before heading out the doors.

Four hours later, after spending hours wandering about Sunnydale and checking all of Spike’s known haunts, Angel was getting exasperated. Apart from his initial sighting of Spike, he hadn’t seen or heard anything of him, not a good sign. He had even tried getting Willie to squeal, but apparently no one, human, vampire or demon, even knew of Spike’s return. Which was most unlike Spike – he enjoyed making his presence felt and that alone alarmed Angel.

"Looking for someone special, peaches?" Angel heard the familiar voice call and he swung around to face Spike who was casually smoking a cigarette, his free hand deeply buried in the pocket of his leather duster. "You know, I really hated having you interrupt my meal tonight – made me twice as hungry."

Spike flashed a grin as Angel winced at the thought.

"What are you doing here, Spike?" Angel growled.

"Well, I liked the thought of visiting family," he replied, stepping on his cigarette butt.

"Family? I thought Drusilla was the only ‘family’ you were interested in. Speaking of which, where is our little insane princess?" Angel hit a sore spot and before he could even react Spike had him pinned against a tree, his forearm nearly crushing the elder vampire’s throat.

"I know exactly where Drusilla is. But what about you? Do you know where everything that you hold precious is?" Spike practically hissed. As quickly as he had pinned Angel down he let him go. Stepping back and giving a small chortle of laughter.

"Is that meant to be some sort of threat, Spike?" Angel glared at Spike through narrowed eyes, trying to find some sort of meaning to the questions.

"You know me, mate. Never a great one for threats, more for action," he began to step back into the darkness of the night. "Better hold on tight, it’s going to get rough…"

Angel heard Spike give two barks, like that of a dog, and then a loud peal of laughter as he disappeared out of view.

"Shit," Angel muttered between his clenched teeth and headed back to the library.

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