Characters: Spike, Willow
Genres: Romance, Comedy, Drama
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Spoilers for BtVS S2, Spoilers for BtVS S3, Spoilers for BtVS S1
Summary: Takes place during Lover's Walk. Spike kidnaps Willow, but things go a bit differently.
Notes: Starts in the beginning/middle of the story will flashback some. G for now but probably will go nc-17 later.
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~Part: 1~ Lovestory
"Get out." Spike took the break from driving to light his cigarette with his Zippo lighter in his left hand, and then set the lighter back down on the seat. Feeling the beginnings of a hangover, he took another swig from the whiskey bottle that was lying in his leather coat pocket, which was carelessly thrown on the seat next to him. Hundred proof - that ought to do the trick - he thought as he downed the bottle with his other hand and smoked between mouthfuls. Almost out, Spike thought as he neared the bottom of the bottle. Should get some more, maybe get Red a bit drunk, that would loosen the overwrought girl seated next to him up alright. The car had stopped. Willow was pretty sure it wasn't engine trouble, although this car had seen better days judging by the chipped black chrome exterior. Not feeling like repeating himself, Spike let out a mildly irritated sigh and leaned over Willow and pulled on the handle, opening the car door for her. Hoping she'd get the point, Willow unbuckled her seat belt and stepped out of the car.
Willow looked around the gas station Spike had pulled into. It was 2:00 a.m. in the morning, according to the Scooby Doo watch on her right wrist; she remembered her aunt gave it to her as a present for her fifteenth birthday. She wore it only on occasion, and just happened to be wearing it when she was kidnapped. She liked to think she was a bit like Velma, okay, a lot like Velma, and always routed for Fred to notice her, instead of danger-prone Daphne.
She looked around the parking lot, who was she expecting? Buffy, Oz, Giles, heck, she'd even settle for Cordelia at this point. For all Willow knew, Xander was probably still passed out with a concussion in the basement at the abandoned warehouse. She was really scared, more scared than when the Order of Teraka tried to kill her, more scared than when Malcom tried to make her his robot girlfriend, and even more scared than when Angelus killed her fish. Spike was the Big Bad, and she was Sunnydale's resident hacker, definitely no match for a century old vampire.
Think. Willow, think. Where was she? She remembered seeing a sign that read Highway 73 and then merging onto 405. They were headed towards LA, and got off on exit 273. If only she had someway of getting in contact with Buffy and telling her where she was and where Xander was.
"Go on then, what are you waiting for?" Spike hung his arm over the girl's shoulders. One, because he was still a little more than drunk and needed a bit of support standing, and two, because he didn't want her getting away, or trying anyway.
"Um, nothing." Willow said as she tensed under his arm. The gas station they had pulled into was a Shell in a well-lit area, surrounded by several other stores and businesses, all of which were closed now. No help there, Willow thought to herself.
As they entered the convenience store, the middle aged man behind the counter, eyed them with suspicion. He straightened a bit; he didn't like the look of the guy who had just walked in with a red-haired girl who had a somewhat apprehensive expression on her face, to say the least. He inwardly sighed to himself. Five hours left till his shift was over. He hated working graveyard. To his relief, they were in and out quickly. The guy bought a six-pack of Old Milwaukee and asked for a carton of Marlboro. The transaction was completed quick enough, they paid with cash and were on their way. He gave a spare shake of his head. There was definitely something that was going on between those two. Oh well, it wasn't any of his business, he chided himself, as he looked at the clock - four hours and fifty-four minutes till his shift was over.
Spike got back in the car, but made a face. "Damn, I forgot something. Stay here and don't even think about moving." Willow would have outright ignored his threats, if he hadn't parked so close to the store. He would see if she tried to make a run for it, and she didn't stand a chance outrunning him. So, she sat in the car, tying a loose thread from her sweater around her index finger, waiting for him to get back. After a few minutes, he opened the car door, got in, and turned the engine.
They pulled into a Marriott parking lot, which was a couple streets away from the gas station, they had just left. Spike parked in front of the hotel, and got out, taking the keys with him. Just as Willow had begun to entertain the idea that he had left her alone, marking a chance for a possible escape, her car door opened.
"I'm not that drunk, pet. Didn't think I'd leave you alone, while I make a reservation for two, did you?"
Willow frowned in spite of herself. She had thought he was that drunk. Willow begrudgingly got out of the car and followed behind Spike like an angry child, walking heavily with her feet. He foiled a perfectly good escape attempt. If she were Buffy, she wouldn't even have to rely on escape, she could just kick his ass. Willow bit her lip, while remembering her friend. She was beginning to really miss Buff, and she wondered if the last conversation she would ever have with her would be what she got on her SATs. By the time she had finished her thoughts, she looked up to see Spike get a room key, while the girl at the hotel desk handed the card to Spike, with a smitten look on her face. He, of course, gave her one of his patented and, at the same time, repulsive grins. Willow winced at them. He was a killer. He shouldn't be flirting. He should be doing something redemption-y to make up for all his past wrongdoings. Spike finally broke the spell he had over the hotel receptionist, when Willow cleared her throat. Spike turned all his attention back to the redhead, who was tapping her foot against the carpet, her arms crossed, looking overly tired. Suddenly, Willow realized she didn't want Spike's attention on her, and regretted interrupting his flirtation, but it was too late. Spike put his arm around her waist and left the lobby, escorting her back into the car parked outside. Spike drove around to the left side of the building, finding room 209. He turned the engine off, and took Willow up one flight of stairs. Their room was right next to the ice machine, Willow noted as Spike swiped the key, opening the door. It was cold. Freezing, to be exact. Willow rubbed her upper arms. Standard hotel room, she thought, as Spike switched on the light. A television on a high sitting dresser, a bathroom with a complimentary bar of soap and shampoo, a table with a lamp and a telephone between the two beds. Two full-sized beds. Thank God. Willow breathed an inward sigh of relief. No windows, though. Guess he didn't trust her with leaving the curtains closed. Willow plopped on the bed on the right side, her tiredness finally catching up with her. Spike grabbed the remote from the dresser and sat on the edge of the other bed, assuming his casual pose. He was flipping through the channels, when Willow remembered about Xander.
"Umm...not to be a bother or anything, but I was wondering if I could call Buffy and tell her where Xander is..." Willow waited breathlessly for a response from him.
"Now, why would I want to go and do a thing like that?" Spike asked, not breaking from flipping through the television channels.
"Well," Willow reasoned, "Buffy's a lot less likely to come after you and kill you if Xander doesn't die." She ended her plea with a small smile.
Spike looked over at her. He didn't want the Slayer muckin' up his plans again. He thought it over. The girl made a bit of sense. Personally, he couldn't care less what happened to the boy, but he shrugged his consent.
"Great." Willow reached over the bed to dial Buffy's number. At least, Xander would be okay, hopefully.
"What do you think you're doing, then?" Spike took the phone out of her hand.
"Calling Buffy." Willow looked confused. "I thought you said-"
"Like I'd really let you talk to her, and tell her where we are. Not bloody likely." Spike ended his remark with a snort. "What's the number?"
Spike dialed the number, and Buffy's mother promptly answered with a sleepy and concerned hello.
"Yeah, just thought you should know that name-" Spike looked over at Willow, expectantly.
"Oh, Xander." Willow answered.
"-Xander is unconscious in the basement of a warehouse on Pine and Crest." Spike hung up the phone promptly, leaving Joyce speechless.
"There, happy now?" Spike asked. This chit was more trouble than she was worth. He had a sudden change in thought. "Want something to drink?" He offered. "I think there was a coke machine down the hall. There might be a couple of them plastic cup thingy's in the bathroom, and the ice machine's right next to the room."
Willow eyed him warily. What was with the sudden change of heart, she wondered. But her thirst outweighed her suspicion. She was thirsty, she just debated whether admitting that to him or not. A slight frown appeared on Willow's face, seeming slightly confused, she nodded her head slowly. Too tired to figure out what he was up to, Willow waited in the room as Spike left to get the cokes. Too bad the drink machine was so close to the room, or else she'd have tried to make a run for it, but Spike would have seen her leaving the room. After a few minutes, Willow walked over to the door, and turned the handle, testing her theory. She peeked out and looked down the hallway on her left with the coke machine. No sign of Spike. She started tiptoeing towards the stairwell, when she felt a hand on her shoulder.
"Miss me, pet?" Spike smiled but he seemed angry, as he roughly steered her back to their room.
"Sit down." Spike said, almost pushing her onto the bed. He turned his back to her as he poured the cokes into the plastic cups.
"Drink." He handed her the cup.
Willow, not wanting to anger him any further, slowly sipped the coke till there was nothing left. He seemed a bit more relaxed as he settled against the bed, turning on the tv with the remote. Willow couldn't help but yawn. She was so tired. Xander was presumably safe, and the spell had taken a lot out of her. Not to mention she was starting to feel inexplicably drowsy.
Spike switched off the light and leaned back against the bed, lacing his hands behind his head, after settling on ESPN highlights. By the time he finally found something worth watching, he looked over at the girl to find that she was already asleep. She was sleeping on top of the covers, curled around a pillow. Can't be very comfortable, he thought of her posture. She'd drawn up her knees to her chin, practically. Spike gave an inward shrug and sighed. The day was catching up with him, thankfully sobriety had not - yet that is. Spike glanced over at Willow again. With the soft blue lights coming from the television, she looked rather pretty. Innocent, even in the way she slept, Spike considered, curled up like a child. Be a shame if I have to kill her, Spike thought to himself, or maybe not. He smiled at the thought of killing the Slayer's best mate, before turning off the tv and rolling over on his side to get some sleep.
Willow woke in the middle of the morning with a start. Shaking off the unfamiliarity of her surroundings, along with the slight dizziness she felt. She remembered all that had happened last night.
Spike, in a drunken stupor. Spike wanting her to do a love spell to get Dru back. Xander unconscious.
This can't be happening, she said to herself. Her face mirrored her thoughts as she frowned, recalling where she was and who she was with. She can't believe she didn't try to escape when Spike was sleeping. Why was she so tired, and why did her head feel so heavy? She didn't remember taking anything. Spike drugged her? She wouldn't put it past him, but when would, could he have done that? As she thought it over, she remembered the coke and then feeling drowsy, and his second trip to the convenience store. He had drugged her, but why?
She sat up on the bed, her legs crossed. She hadn't realized how tired she was. Willow touched the side of her face where she had been sleeping. It felt slightly numb. Probably had a big red splotch on her cheek, she thought. Willow blamed the stupid, uncomfortable, and slightly starchy hotel blanket, for her morning grumpiness, that and the fact that she had been kidnapped and sedated. She looked over at the other bed. Spike wasn't in bed or in the bathroom.
Before she could figure out where he was. The door opened and Spike walked through.
"Up yet?" He asked with a smirk. He was carrying a brown paper bag that had been rolled up.
"You drugged me." Willow accused him, her head still feeling woozy.
"Had to get my kidnapping supplies," he reasoned, as he pulled a pair of handcuffs out and threw the bag onto the mattress.
"Couldn't have you wandering off, now could we?" Spike said as he dangled the cuffs.
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