~~ Part 1 ~~

Bloody hell...how did I let this happen?  When did I lose control?

I was so damn cocky it was laughable.  Looking back now, I know I had sod-all to be cocky about, considering what the GI Joes did to me and all.  I guess you can take the bite out of the vampire but never the arrogance.  It comes with the fangs, you know?  Even the lowest newborn vamp feels like he can take on the Slayer by himself.  Built-in population control, I suppose.

So, when exactly did I lose control?  Was it when the witch's spell backfired, forcing me down on my knees in front of the Slayer, professing my undying love?  Hell, no.  That was nothing compared to what I was about to go through.  No, maybe I wasn't exactly in control then, but that was a spell--not my bloody fault whatsoever.  If I'd only known then how much worse it could get, I would have gone gleefully skipping into the sun.

Unfortunately, I didn't.

It was two days after the witch undid her botched spell that I began to become the pathetic excuse for a demon that I am today.

You see, I was back to being chained up in the librarian's tub.  Being quite an unimaginative lot, they still hadn't figured out what to do with me.  So, I was lying there, bored out of my undead mind, plotting all their grisly deaths, when she walked in.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you.  I...I just thought maybe you were hungry," Willow said, raising the 'Kiss the Librarian' mug that I detested.  Come on, couldn't they at least put it in a pint glass?  Bloody hell...I'd drink it straight out the bucket if they'd let me...or right from the bloody pig itself.

"Wasn't sleeping, just resting my eyes," I informed her, snatching the cup with my still-bound hands.  I tried to cheer myself up a bit with the pitiful knowledge that at least I could now raise the mug to my own mouth.  They'd lengthened the chain enough to allow me that one little dignity.  Having the bloody Slayer hold it for me was cruel and unusual punishment, and I'd half a mind to give Amnesty International a ring.

"Like anyone could sleep in this bloody bathtub anyway," I added after a few gulps of the too-warm blood.  "I'm starting to think coffins might be more comfortable than this!"

The redhead shifted nervously, and that caught my full attention. Interesting.  The little witch casts spells, kills vampires, battles demons, and makes the world generally safe for the blissfully unaware, but being social makes the chit tense.  I could hardly keep the smile from forming on my face.  Nervous humans give me a warm, fuzzy feeling...in a cold, demon-like way, of course.  I wanted more.

"So, why'd you get stuck with the babysitting duties on a Friday night?" I asked oh-so-casually.

"Oh...well," Willow began.  "Giles had a symposium he wanted to attend on modern voodoo practices, Xander and Anya went to LA to watch Rollerderby, of all things, and Buffy had...um...plans.  She had plans."  Plans to boff her latest boy toy, no doubt.  Poor sod.

"Voodoo?  Bet that'll keep him on pins and needles," I grumbled halfheartedly into the mug between slurps.  To my surprise, the tiny room was suddenly filled by the sound of her laughter.  It was an odd sound.  Not because vampires don't like laughter.  Hell, the funniest people I know are vampires.  Angelus, for example, used to be able to make me laugh until I cried...actually, that was the point, I suppose.  He always liked the tears.  It's a shame he turned into such a bloody pillock.  But, that's another sad bloody story...

Like I was saying, she laughed, and the soft, feminine sound echoed off those damn spotless tiles, grating on my nerves like the handcuffs grated at my skin.
 
 

Now, don't get me wrong.  It's not that I wanted the chit to be miserable.  She could laugh until she cried, or the other way 'round, and I wouldn't really care.  But I don't want to be the one to make her happy.  That's all I need--biteless, minionless, unliving on the kindness of the bloody Scooby Gang, and now I'm cheering up lovelorn witches.  If vampires had a union, I'd be kicked out on my lily-white British bum.

I looked up at her, ready to fix her with my usual terrifying glare, but she was standing there...smiling down at me.  I don't know if I terrified her or not, but the smile quickly disappeared the moment I made contact with those disgustingly easy-to-read green eyes.  It wasn't as much fun as I thought it would be.  It was over too soon.

"Just let me know if you need any more," Willow offered before turning to leave me alone with the plumbing.

"You didn't have any plans?" I blurted out.  After all, if she left, I'd be alone, and there'd be no more of that delicious nervousness.  Besides, talking to her was better than counting the tiles.  (There are 412...six are cracked, in case you wondered.)

It worked.  She turned around, obviously surprised by my interest.  I'm sure she would have been surprised at anybody's interest at this point, seeing as her so-called friends are the most self-absorbed bunch of humans I've seen since The Beatles.

"Oh, um, no, not really.  There was this Wicca meeting that would have been interesting, but it's no big.  Besides, after what happened and everything..."

I shifted uncomfortably against the porcelain.  I'd been in that tub for more than a day without even get a chance to stretch my legs...I wanted out.  "Bloody hell, Pet.  You still trying to make up for that spell of yours?  You baked enough cookies to put that fat little dough-boy out of business."

Willow nodded emphatically.  "I figured it's the least I could do...considering I made mortal enemies pick out china patterns and a librarian go blind...and everything..."

Could anyone really be this nice?  It's amazing she was still alive, I realized.  Such a trusting soul living on the Hellmouth was likely to attract all sorts of interesting attention.  Like mine, perhaps.

"No," I instructed her impatiently, "the least you could have done was shrug and say, 'Weird shit happens on the Hellmouth, people.  Deal with it!'"

I watched her, trying to see if what I said had any effect on the girl.  I couldn't be sure, but I could tell I'd given her something to chew on.

Looking back at it now, I think that's the point where things really started to get all mucked up.  I was torn.  I wanted to be free.  I wanted to hurt everything I encountered, and since I couldn't sink my teeth into that the way I used to, I had to fall back on words and games.  It wasn't nearly as satisfying, but it did have its rewards.  I also have to admit, much to my eternal shame, that I felt a little sorry for the chit.

Why are you so surprised?  Drusilla, remember?  Bloody bitch broke my heart.  Turned me into a pathetic idiot.  Not quite as pathetic as I am today, mind you, but pretty damn close.  I don't care who the hell you are, being dumped sucks.  I wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy.  Wait.  Scratch that.  I do wish it on the Slayer...every day, but that's different.  She's a bitch.

"You mean, you aren't mad about...you know...kissing Buffy, telling Buffy how beautiful she was...and that you loved her?  All those sweet nothings you whispered into her ear?" she asked me sweetly.

Sneaky little cow.  She's twisting the stake while at the same time batting her long eyelashes at me.  Bloody hell...did she have to bring that up?  I gulped down the last of the pig blood, hoping to wash away the memory of the Slayer's taste, and tossed the cup back to her.  Time to change the subject.  Fast.  Luckily, I had a plan.  Poor thing wouldn't know what hit her.

"So, is that how it works in your little group?  One little mistake and suddenly you're stuck standing in the loo, babysitting a neutered vamp while all your little pals are out having a jolly good time?"

That got to her, and for just a moment I saw a flash of resentment cross that angelic face.  Crikey, it was gone fast, though.  All to soon, she was looking down at me with those all-forgiving eyes.  Gave me the willies how fast she could do that.

"Well, I have a lot of studying to do anyway.  So I thought I could, you know, slay two demons with one really sharp pencil."

She made a joke... a fairly good one too, in my opinion.  'Course, I had little to judge it against lately.  Still, it wouldn't be right for me to laugh.  I wasn't that pathetic...yet.

"You're very good at avoiding answering questions, aren't you, witch?  What's wrong, did I hit a nerve?"

She straightened herself up, her neck extending to quite an attractive length...all white and blood filled...

"I answered your question," she said quite firmly, interrupting my natural thought process.  "Like I said, I don't mind watching you.  You're usually pretty quiet.  It's like study hall...but in a bathroom..."

I shrugged.  I do that a lot...keeps the mystery alive.  I shifted again, this time adding a few winces and a very subtle moan.

Too subtle, apparently.

"Oh, do you want me to turn the TV on for you?  I mean, the tele?" she said with an expectant look, obviously pleased with her ability to throw in a bit of Brit-speak.  She'd picked it up from ye ol' musty librarian, I suppose.  Bloody hell...like he even counts as a proper Brit anymore.  If she wants to learn some good slang, I should get her watch 'Black Adder' a few million times...or the 'Young Ones'.

Anyway, it was obvious that she was eager to please...like a puppy.  And like a puppy, all she needed was a little leading in the right direction.

I shifted again, grimacing the whole time, making sure to rub my wrists quite roughly against the restraints.

"Bloody hell..." I mumbled, not too loud, not too soft.  It worked.

"You, um, okay, Spike?"

"Like you care, witch!  I can tell you're enjoying this...watching me bleed...my muscles all cramped and aching.  I never though you had it in you...taking all your anger at your friends out on an..."  I had to spit the next word out..."an...*impotent* vampire."

It worked.

"Spike, you're bleeding," she yelped, finally noticing the trickle of blood from my wrists where the metal restraints were *accidentally* cutting into my skin.

"Save the act, Red.  Just leave me to wallow in my own self-pity...and pain," I whimpered.

She froze, then turned away, and for a moment I thought I'd pushed my luck.  I'd never had an acting class, I'm not that big of a wally, so it was far from an award-winning performance.  I was just getting ready to come up with a new plan when I could practically hear applause explode in the background.

"I don't understand why you have to stay in the bathtub," she said softly as she sat on the side of the tub and dabbed at my injuries with a pure white face cloth.  "It's not like you can hurt anybody."

"Don't rub it in, witch!  We both know, even if I could escape, I don't have anywhere to go."  I held my breath, metaphorically speaking, and hoped that she was as sickeningly nice as she seemed.

She was watching me, so I let my eyes drop forlornly down to the tub.  I added just the slightest grimace, more of a flinch really, as cuffs once again cut into my wrists.  I heard her sigh, and I was hard put not to smile at my success.

"Be right back," she said, quickly rising and walking out of the room.  I could hear her rummaging about in the other rooms for a while before she came back in.

She was holding some sort of firearm and pointing it right at me.  It caught me by surprise, so you can hardly blame me if I forgot my little act at that moment.

"What's that for?" I growled.

"Oh, it's a water gun...a Holy Water Gun, to be exact."

"And is it time for target practice?" I asked her with a slightly shaking voice.  Damn chip!

"I'll let you out of the tub, but I'll have to tie to you to a chair in the living room.  At least it will be more comfortable."

Damn.  I was hoping that she'd let me go free range, but it was a start.

"You do anything funny, Spike, and I'll let you have it!" she continued, with only the slightest hint of malice to her voice.  Dirty Harry she wasn't...Barb Wire, neither.

Still, that's when I noticed where the gun was pointed.  Not at my heart, but at a more necessary organ quite a bit lower and less protected.

Squirming, trying to rotate my bits and pieces away from the dripping weapon, I quipped in by best John Wayne tone, "I promise I'll be on my best behavior, little lady."

"I should shoot you just for that, Spike," she groaned, rolling her eyes.

The little witch shifted the large automatic water rifle to one hand, then she bent over and slowly undid the chain that kept my hands and feet tethered to each other.  Unfortunately, she left the ankle cuffs in place and my feet still chained to the damned faucet.  Then she stared at me a bit, like I was a puzzle to be solved or something.  Apparently, she was trying to figure out how to get my hands cuffed behind my back without me being able to strangle the life out of her.  Not that I could because of the damned chip, but she didn't seem to want to take any chances.  Can't blame her, really.

Well, to make a very long bloody story not nearly short enough, after what I could only describe as the bondage version of the game Twister, I eventually ended up with my hands cuffed behind my back and my feet chained together with only just enough slack for me to walk. She wasn't as dumb as she looked.
 

Hold on...forget I said that.  She didn't look dumb in the slightest.  Now, take Harmony for example, she didn't even have to open her mouth for you to realize how incredibly dim she was.  I think it took all her brainpower just to walk and chew gum at the same time.  Bloody hell.  And Drusilla?  Let's just say she was the beauty and I was the brains.  Stupid cow.  Hope the Chaos Demon gives her herpes.

But Red?  There wasn't an unintelligent bone in her little Wicca body.  Luckily, there were a few overly trusting ones...those were the ones I was hoping to bend enough to make my escape.  I'd break them if I had to.
 

 ~~ Part 2 ~~

Now, where was I?  Oh yeah...being led into the librarian's living room by a Holy Water gun-packing witch.
 

Being the polite bloke that I am, I behaved myself when she shoved me into the chair.  More of a nudge than a shove, really, but I had to give her credit for touching me at all.  Chip or no chip, I'm the big bad.  Didn't give her a spot of trouble either when she set about tying me to the seat with an enormous length of rope, my hands behind the chair.  Didn't have a choice really.  She had the dripping gun pointed at me the whole time, didn't she?  Even if I did manage to get away from her, I couldn't run very fast.  Sneaky little cow had my hands cuffed and my feet chained the whole time she was tying me up.  The best I could've managed was a waddle.

Crikey...a waddling vampire...I've had enough humiliation for one bloody unlife time, thank you very much.

I kept reminding myself that all I had to do was bide my time, and I'd be free without having to be damaged.  Somehow.  Didn't quite have a plan yet, I must admit.  I had a half a plan at best.  Actually, several half plans...and sooner or later, I knew they'd add up to a whole.  Just had to be patient and behave myself 'til the right opportunity came along.

Even though I desperately wanted to ask her why she thought the librarian kept so much rope handy, I didn't.  I doubted she'd get the innuendo.  Besides, as it was, I was trying not to laugh in her face as she treated me like a bloody Maypole.  Instead of just standing in one spot and reaching around me with the rope, she was slowly circling the chair, wrapping the rope around me as she went.  I can only assume she didn't want to touch me.  I wondered what scared her more--the fact that I was a vampire or that I was male? Either way, I figured I won. Plus it was just one more little weakness that I planned on using to gain my freedom.

Eventually, she finished securing the rope at the back of the chair before removing my handcuffs.  But then there was a pause.  I glanced over my shoulder and saw her staring at the ropes, her forehead all wrinkled up.  Not an attractive look for her, might I add.  I bet she was replaying an episode of 'Cops' in her head, trying to figure out if she'd done it right.  Apparently, she decided more was better and added a more loops of rope around my wrists and a few more knots.

When the chit finally seemed satisfied that I wouldn't be going anywhere without taking the whole bloody piece of furniture with me, she walked over to the desk in front of me that was a safe distance away.  She dropped the cuffs, keys and water gun on top, took a seat, and then stuck her little nose in a book.

So there I was, finally free of the tub, only to be restrained to a chair in Sunnydale's most boring flat.  Apparently, the only tele this watcher bloke had was the one he let me watch in the loo.  Looking around, I could see something vaguely resembling a stereo.  Looked more like something that little 'phone home' fellow would've come up with after a sugar over-load.  Even if the Watcher did have a few albums that were worth a spin, I doubted that the witch would let me play.

Besides, I was on a mission, not playing 'Top of the Pops'.  And my plans were finally starting to take shape.  It was when she'd added the extra rope about my wrists that I first realized I might stand a shot of actually getting loose.  With all those knots at my fingertips, all I needed was a distraction.

"Why are they being so hard on you?" I asked the little witch.  Her lips twitched but she didn't even bother to look at me.  "You'd think it was your first mistake," I added.

Willow peeked at me over the top of a much-too-thick textbook.  "Oh, it's not my first mistake," she said.  "I mean, I've made a couple of others...doozies, really, but this is the first one that ended...with...well ramifications of biblical proportions."

I snorted a bit at the girl's over-sized sense of guilt.  I mean, come on...it's not as if The Slayer'd never kissed a vamp before.  And her track record with men hardly put her on the list to be the next Virgin Mary, now did it?  Somehow I managed not to laugh outright.  That hardly would have helped the situation.  Besides, I kinda liked that about her...guilt's something I can work with.

"Biblical proportions, eh?" I repeated.  "How do you come to that conclusion, little girl?"

Willow finally set the book down.  Her tongue flicked out quickly to wet her lips before she managed to look me in the eye.

"You know...cats and dogs, lying together," she twittered.  "William the Bloody being talked into wearing a pink cummerbund at his wedding to the Slayer...need I go on?  You were there, remember?"

"Oh piffle," I replied.  It isn't a very manly word, piffle, but it's nonthreatening, which was the whole theme at the time.  "Come on!  I was the one most hurt, and you don't see me asking you to build me a mahogany, satin-lined coffin or be my personal blood donor."

"I thought vampires don't sleep in coffins," she said a little smugly.

Stubborn little thing.

"I was making a bloody point, wasn't I?  I seem to be the only one not holding this against you.  Seems a bit odd to me, that's all.  But if that's how you lot handle these sorts of things, then why should I care?"  I paused just long enough to make what came next look like an afterthought.  "So, what did you make slutty do the last time she made a mistake?  The whole Angelus cock-up alone should've been worth a bundle.  Tell me, did you make her paint your house?  Wash everyone's knickers for a year?  Clean the loo with her toothbrush?  Oh, I'd give away a couple pints of AB-negative to watch that!"

The little girl's face collapsed, her eyes dulling over and all that lovely blood draining from her face.  She'd figured it out, finally...how bloody unfair life really could be.  Took her long enough.  Even I could see that they hadn't done right by the witch, not that I care.

Unfortunately, just when I thought I could smell the salt of her tears, she sat up a little straighter, trying to pull herself together.  I must say, I was a little disappointed, actually.  I was shooting for tears, but a quivering lower lip is the next best thing, I suppose.

"Not exactly, Spike," she said in a sigh.  "After all, Buffy's under a lot of pressure.  She does the best she can.  And that whole Angel-Angelus thing was very hard on her..."  Her voice trailed off, ending in another sigh.

I nodded in my most 'understanding yet I think you've been bloody had' sort of way, which gained a hint of a smile from the girl.

"Oh...Of course things are different for *her*, seeing as she's the Slayer and all," I replied, reeling her in a little more.  "But what about your Watcher and that Xander-bloke?  Bet they've had their fair share of amends to make.  Tell me about those, then."

Her eyes fell to her lap and she shrugged half-heartedly.  That was her answer.  Not the babbling excuses that the little chit was famous for but a simple shrug.

"Guess friendship isn't what it used to be back in the good old days," I told her in my best bored tone.  I even attempted to return her shrug as a sort of 'comrade in arms' display, but with my arms tied behind me, it wasn't very impressive, as far as shrugs go.

That was the final comment that broke the witch's back, so to speak.  I watched with demonic satisfaction as her forehead wrinkled and the gears began to spin inside her head.  No tears though, but it was early days yet.

Willow fiddled with her pencil, tapping away on the desk top so hard that I thought I saw bits of saw dust flying about, her eyes looking anywhere but at me.  But I didn't have time to watch her whittle the desk away to nothing but kindling before I escaped...I had plans.  Well, like I said before, a couple of partial plans, really.

"Since I don't have anything better to do, tell me," I said to the witch.

The redhead finally looked at me, her green eyes wide as if she'd forgotten I was there.

"Tell you?"

I stretched my legs, trying to get comfortable and look casual at the same time.  Not an easy look to achieve when you're shackled.

"Tell me about these other magnificent cock-ups of yours."

She squirmed a bit in her seat.  I could tell she was torn between wanting to talk to someone and wishing it were anyone other than me.  Apparently, I don't appear as the 'Dear Abby' sort.

"I-I don't think so, Spike," Willow said, a suspicious light beginning to flare in the depths of her green eyes.

Damn.

"Why the hell not?" I demanded, still managing to keep my desperation out of my voice.  "It's old news around here, right?  It's not like I'm asking you to tell me your deepest, darkest fantasy, Red.  I'm just trying to pass the time.  And since it seems I'm going to be stuck with the lot of you, much to my own shame, I might as well try and understand how you do-gooders do business, right?"

"Well...yeah...but--"

"But nothing.  I'm bored out of my skull, I'm curious as to what someone as sickeningly nice as you could have possibly done to upset the natural shiny-happy order of things in Sunnydale, and besides...we both know you need to study about as much as I need a good suntan."

That one hit its mark.  I could see her swishing my words around in her brain a bit, trying to decide if I'd really paid her a compliment or not.  I had.  It's obvious even to a thick bloke like me that she's got more brains that common sense.  Considering that most of the women I've had the misfortune to associate with lately had neither, it was almost refreshing.

"Come on, Red.  I've been stuck in that bloody tub for days, forced to watch some American soap opera drivel that makes Coronation Street and the bloody EastEnders look like Masterpiece Theater.  I just want to talk, alright?  Where's the harm in that?  And while I've had better conversations with a Chinza demon, you'll have to do, won't you?"

She blinked at me.

The witch didn't get it.

"Er, you see, pet, Chinza demons don't actually have mouths."

"I know," she replied calmly.  She then retrieved her book and began to read again.

Didn't she realize she'd been insulted?  Granted, it wasn't the harshest of insults I'd ever dealt out, but I wasn't looking for tears anymore.  I wanted her to open up, not turn on the waterworks.

"They use telepathy," she said in whisper-soft voice that was almost hidden under the sound of turning pages.

"What?"

She set the book down and looked at me.

"Chinza demons use telepathy to communicate.  They don't need mouths."

"Oh."

"Now, the Jiord demon, for example, doesn't have a mouth or telepathy or any other way of communicating.  So, next time you want to imply that someone is boring, you may want to consider using the Jiord demon instead.  Okay?"

A small smile escaped me before I could stop it.  "I'll make a note of that, Red.  Thanks for straightening me out."

"No problem," Willow said, picking up her book again.  "They don't call me research girl for nothing."

I was speechless for a moment.  I'd insulted her, and all she could do was correct my slur and make it even more stinging.  All without batting an eye.  Guess the poor thing had already grown numb to the barbs of the people around her.  I remained silent, watching her, waiting for a new approach to the situation to come to me.  Unfortunately, she looked up and caught me staring at her.  I have no idea what expression I had plastered on my face at the time, but it must have been the right one because she actually closed the book this time.  Then with a sigh, she got to her tiny little feet.

"I-I met a demon once, over the internet," she said in a quiet, almost hopeful voice.  "Not that I knew he was a demon because I wouldn't be caught dead dating a demon, but..."

Willow walked as she talked, her hands flitting about restlessly.  She reminded me of a vamp fledgling on his initial hunt--the ones that usually died before they saw their first sunset.  But she was talking, and that's all I really gave a damn about...she could flap her arms until she took flight for all I cared, as long as she kept talking.

"...I thought it was so exciting, you know?" she continued, her voice growing richer with each word.  "To have this secret...he-he would have been my first boyfriend.  Well, *if* he'd actually been a boy...or even alive...."

Unfortunately, she stopped there.  Just when it was getting good, too.  I actually wanted to hear a little bit more about this demon lover of hers.  And the blood was rushing to her face in the most delightful yet torturous way that I was becoming distracted.

Damn, how I miss human blood.  The more innocent the better, and looking at her, I knew that virginity wasn't the only measure of innocence.

Willow paced a bit, chewing on her fingernail as she circled about in front of me.

"Let's see...I was captured by an invisible girl once and Angel had to save me, Buffy had to save me from a vampire practically her first night in Sunnydale.
"Oh," she continued," then there was that whole deal with Xander and Oz...that was the same night you so politely asked me to do that love spell for you."

There she went...twisting that half-imbedded stake again.

"Yeah, I always wondered about that, Red.  You were with the dog then, right?  Yet there you were, getting ready to do some love spell with Boy-Wonderless.  How'd that all come about?"

A shadow darkened her face, and I had caused it.  I hadn't lost my touch.  Who says you need fangs to hurt someone?  Unfortunately, the little witch didn't answer my question.  She plopped herself back down at the desk and began shuffling through some papers.  I'd pushed her too far, too fast.

"I--I really better get back to studying," she said, her eyes on the papers in front of her.  "After all, this research paper on Pavlovian conditioning isn't going to write itself, no matter how many bells I ring."

"Classical musician?" It was supposed to be a joke.  Not a very good one apparently.  Either that, or she thought I was a complete dolt.

She glanced over the top of a thick text.  "Um, not exactly, he--"

"He's the slobbering dog bloke, right?  Ring a bell, feed some bloody mutt his doggie tea and then after a while, all you have to do is ring the bell to start him drooling.  Correct?"

Willow raised a surprised eyebrow.  "Yeah, that's the one.  How do you know about Pavlov?  You don't really strike me as the studious type."

I attempted another shrug, trying to appear humble.  "When you're dating the insane, it's nice to read up on the subject a bit.  Sort of like an owner's manual, I suppose.  Not that it did me any bloody good, mind you..."  The damn harpy.

The redhead opened her mouth like she was going to say something, but she must have thought better of it.  Knowing her, the chit was probably going to say something sweet and supportive.  She was looking at me again with the bloody empathy just dripping off of her, and that's when it hit me.  Maybe if I shared my pain, she'd share hers.

I let my face fall a bit.  Not too much though, I wanted to look understanding and sympathetic, not pathetic.

"It still hurts sometimes, you know?  I thought we'd be together for eternity, but one night she just said it was over...that I wasn't demon enough for the likes of her.  It felt like someone had ripped my guts out."  Then I sniffed, just a bit.  I'm not a good enough actor to produce any tears, but I figured that just a small display of sappiness would go a long way with the witch.  "I even admitted to Dru that I'd made a mistake by helping the Slayer save the bloody world, even if I did do it all for her.  But she'd have none of it."  I forced a sigh, letting my eyes fall to my feet as if embarrassed by my own weakness.  "Never mind...you wouldn't understand."

That did it.  Suddenly the red-headed witch was spilling her guts, figuratively speaking.

She paced about in front of me as she went on and bloody on about what had happened the night I'd tried to get her to do that damned love spell.  Apparently, she and chubs had been playing a little more than footsie at the time.

Okay, so I admit it.  I wasn't listening, but it's the girl's own faulty, really.  I mean, come on.  I'm a man, and I'm a demon.  What the bloody hell did she expect?

"What happened between Xander and me was just a fluke," she told me.  "He was helping me pick out something to wear for the Homecoming Dance and before I knew it, we were kissing."

"Fluke...got it..." I agreed aloud, although I prefer to think of it as nauseatingly bad taste on her part.  Actually, I didn't have the slightest idea what she was talking about...but I did have the first knot loosened a bit.

"...it was supposed to be a delusting spell, you know?  Just to..."

"Delusting...makes sense," I said, my eyes completely focused on her face, but my mind completely focused on the second knot my fingers encountered.  The girl obviously had no bondage training...my dead grandmum could have undone them...with both hands tied behind her back.

"...and then you showed up..."

"Uh-huh," I grunted, having just scraped the bloody hell out of knuckles as I pulled one hand out from underneath the first few layers of ropes.

...and then I was kissing him...really kissing him, you know?" she asked me.

"Oh yeah...I know."  I added, shaking my head, hoping it would cover up any other visible movements as I continued to work through the various knots and layers.

"...Cordelia could have been killed!"

Fourth knot loose.  How many bloody knots did she use anyway?

"...Oz said he needed time..."

"Time, right..."  He needs time?  I needed more time to get the last knot undone.  Then it I'd just have to wriggle my way out.  'Course, then there was the little matter of grabbing the water gun, keys and opening the lock on my ankle chains, but one crappy plan at a time, right?

"...this female werewolf.  And she was in a band too!  Now, I ask you, how was I supposed to compete with that?"

"Er...tough break, kid."  Not very sympathetic, I know.  But I don't think she was listening to me anymore than I was listening to her.  She wanted it off her chest.  I'd just provided the catalyst.

"...it hurts, but I'll be okay.  I'm more than my relationship with Oz, just like you're more than your relationship with Drusilla," she said with soft shrug and not even a hint of embarrassment in her voice at pouring her heart out to the undead.

Strange girl.

"Love's a bitch."  No, not particularly poetic, but it seemed to sum things up pretty well.

Hell, it pretty much sums up all relationships, doesn't it?

Willow stopped her pacing and gave me a friendly smile.  "I'm kinda hungry.  Think I'll make myself some popcorn.  You want me to heat up some blood while I'm working my microwave magick?" she grinned even wider.

Perfect.  By the time she was done playing the good little wifey in the kitchen, I'd be gone.

"Sure, luv.  I am a bit peckish, now that you mention it."

And that's when my little plan went to hell in a hand basket.  My back was to the kitchen, so when she went to make the snacks, she must have noticed that I'd nearly succeeded in freeing my hands.

Next thing I knew, I felt the cold metal of the handcuffs being snapped back into place behind my back.

"You know, Spike, I would have partially untied you if you'd just asked.  You didn't have to sit there and pretend to be interested in what I was saying," she said from behind me, her voice a little more cool than I remember hearing from her before.

"I wasn't pretending.  I am interested.  Share my pain and all that, right?  I lost Dru, you lost, um, er..."

"Oz," she sighed as she finished undoing the rope.  "I've been talking about Oz for the past hour and you weren't even listening.  You must think I'm the biggest idiot in Sunnydale."

Even though she set herself up for at least a dozen biting comebacks, I wasn't ready to give up hope on my plan just yet.

"You, an idiot?  Not bloody likely, Red.  It's plainly obvious that you're the brains in the bunch."

Willow moved in front of me to where I could see her.  She had the rope in her hands and an unusually blank expression on her face.  I couldn't tell if she was angry or hurt.

"Save it, Spike.  I might be slow, but I'm finally on to your little game."

Sod the plan.  I wanted to be free and I wasn't above begging.

"Come on, witch.  Please?  Keeping a vamp all cooped up like this is cruel.  I'm going stir crazy in here.  What if I promise I'll come back in an hour?"

Willow shook her head as she picked the water gun back up and pointed it directly at my face.  "Time to get back in the tub.  I've got a lot of work to do and I've wasted enough time on you."

And then the little witch actually shoved me--bloody hard, too--forcing me back down the hall and into the loo.

I was back to counting the bloody tiles.
 

 ~~ Part 3 ~~

I'd figured that would be the end of it, my little game with the little girl.  The chit avoided me like the plague, bubonic or otherwise, for days.  Suppose it's possible she hadn't come around to the Watcher's place at all.  Didn't know and didn't care.  Obviously, the poor thing was too afraid to tell her friends she'd ballsed something else up, which was fine with me since it kept a brassed-off Slayer from using my face to scrub the already spotless tiles.  I've heard enough references comparing my hair to a Brillo pad for one century.

Although it isn't all that easy to keep track of time when you're locked in a loo, from what I could tell, a week or so had passed without seeing hide nor hair of the wannabe witch.  Needless to say, I was surprised to wake up one day and find the little redhead leaning in the doorway, staring at me.  She was holding that most-hated mug between her tiny hands.  Damned if even her hands didn't look innocent, all soft and pink, even while holding my blood meal.

Not being the type to make chit-chat when supper's on the table, I held my cuffed hands out for the mug, but she didn't budge.  She just stood there in the doorway, watching me.  More like studying me, actually, as she held the cup, rotating it once in a while.  If it had contained anything other than blood, I'd almost say she was warming her hands with the heated mug.  But the witch?  Doubtful.  Innocence like hers and blood don't make good bedfellows...at least not more than once.

"Hungry?" she eventually asked, but only after I scowled at her a bit.

"Starved, luv.  So if you could be so kind as to hand it over."

She stepped into the room to stand right next to my porcelain prison.  She had a peculiar look on her face as she took in my situation, but at the time, all I cared about was what she had in her hands, not her head.  So I reached for the cup again, but she pulled back, taking my dinner with her.  Then she crouched down beside the tub, just out of my limited-by-iron-chains reach, and flicked her gaze between the thick red liquid and me.

"How long can you actually live without blood, Spike?" she asked, as if it were an oral exam of sorts, she the teacher and I the slow student.

Honestly, if it were the Watcher or the Slayer asking such a loaded question, I'd be a wee bit worried.  But the little redhead?  Come on!  Sure, the chit was up to something, no doubt.  Probably just some pitiful attempt at payback for my previous escape attempt.  I was hardly shaking in my boots.

"Days...weeks even, but it's not a pretty sight," I responded coolly, my eyes already devouring the contents of the mug.  "Bound to give you sugar-and-spice types nightmares for weeks.  So, do yourself and your bed sheets a favor and hand over the ole 'Babe' in a cup so you can get back to your studies.  Can't have the Scooby Gang's brainiac fall behind and disappoint her friends *again*, can we?"

That ought to shut her up and send her scurrying away, I thought.  But she didn't budge.  Apparently the stubborn thing still had something resembling a backbone.  Thought I'd cured her of that.

Oh well...you know what they say: If at first you don't get what you bloody well want...hit 'em harder.

"Oh, I see now," I continued, choosing to focus on her most obvious weakness: actually caring about what her friends thought of her.  "This is more penance, isn't it?  Still trying to make up for your inept witchy abilities?"

There was a flash of something in her eyes.  Couldn't tell exactly what though...anger, resentment...pain, most likely, but it was gone quickly.  Shame that.  I like to revel a bit in the misery I cause.  Still, it was early days yet, and I was starving.

"Look," I began, my eyes glued to that damned mug.  "Enough small talk.  As you can see, I'm still here...chained to the tub.  So give me my breakfast, lunch, or whatever the hell it is, and then you can run along.  Isn't that slobbering dog bloke waiting for you?"  I paused just a long enough for her to remember our little Pavlovian conversation, before cunningly adding, "Oh, almost forgot.  He left you, didn't he?  The wolf? And for some other slobbering dog, wasn't it?"  I tried not to laugh...well, actually, no I didn't.  I chuckled and loved it.  "Well, best get back to your studies again then, hadn't you?  Since that's all you have..."

She didn't even flinch.  In fact, she didn't do anything.  She simply continued to look at me with a blank expression on her usually easy-to-read face.  Strange.  But just as I was beginning to think she'd fallen asleep with her eyes open, her lips curled just a bit.

"I have time, Spike," she informed me, still keeping the blood out of my reach.  "It's vacation...Christmas vacation, winter break, the holidays...whatever you want to call it..."  She actually grinned, and there was nothing girlie or shy about it.  In fact, it bordered on being devious.  "And as you so joyfully reminded me," she continued, "I no longer have a boyfriend to rush off to, so..."  This time *she* had the perfectly timed pause, waiting just long enough for my puzzled expression.  "Oh, didn't they tell you?" she asked innocently.  A brief but definite flash of victory brought some fire to her indifferent green eyes.

"Tell me what, witch wannabe?" I snapped.  No point in being nice when it wasn't going to get me anywhere.

She gave a little sigh, then ran a finger along the tub's white edge while she spoke, as if inspecting the cool porcelain for imperfections.  "It's just me and you again, Spike.  For a little while, anyway."  She ignored me, her eyes flitting about the room, studying the fixtures, the lights...everything but me.  "I'm staying here to keep an eye on you while Buffy stays with her father for Christmas. Anya and Xander are going to give each other lots of orgasms in the mountains somewhere far away from his family's usual holiday disaster, and Giles is visiting Olivia for a few days in your old stomping ground."

It annoyed me more than I cared to admit how she seemed to momentarily forget I was in the room.  Sure, she was talking to me.  Carrying on a bit of a conversation even.  But the chit was practically within grabbing range, which sits right on the border of the biting zone, and she wasn't even watching me out of the corner of her eye.

Bloody hell...I'm a vampire!  Even if I am, for the most part, fangless at the moment.  And so what if I'm chained to a tub, that doesn't make me completely harmless!  She could at least do me the courtesy of casting an occasional furtive glance my direction...maybe a trembling limb or two.  But no.  She's treating me more like a declawed kitty she's been asked to look after than a soulless demon who lives on the blood of others.

Pretty damned insulting, if you ask me.  Downright rude, actually, and I don't mind telling you that it irritated the *hell* out of me...if that's possible.

"You know," I snarled, "it would have been nice if someone had clued me in on all the goings on.  I am, after all, practically the Watcher's flatmate...he could have said something before leaving."

Smirking, Willow stood up to open the mirrored door to the medicine cupboard, revealing its sparse holdings.  Then she pointed to items on the counter and sink, or better yet...the *lack* of items on the counter.  "Um, didn't you notice Giles packing his toothbrush and things yesterday?"

"Is that what he was doing?" I retorted.  "Thought the wanker was making a lot of noise on purpose to annoy me during my stories.  He does that, you know.  It's bloody annoying, too," I grumbled.

"Nope," she said, much too cheerfully for my liking.  "It's just me and you."

"Really?" I snorted, and then finally it dawned on me.  (Er, bad expression for a vamp, I know, but you get the idea.)  The only thing standing between freedom and me was one tiny, little, red-headed wannabe witch, whom I had no doubt I could still easily wrap around my finger.

"They left you in charge of the big bad, did they?" I continued.  "Guess they cared more about getting their jollies than your safety.  Can't say I'm surprised, actually."

"I'm not surprised either," she said flatly as she squatted down near the tub again.  Her voice completely lacked any trace of self-pity, which left me wondering if she'd somehow cured herself of that particular weakness.

Hope not.

"I never told them about what happened the other week," she went on to inform me.  "I guess you didn't either.  So for all they know, I'm the best vamp sitter in the city."

And I smiled, but only on the inside.  No need to let the little girl know that my planning gears were already beginning to spin.

"So, it's just you and me, kid?"

"That's right, Spike," she said, rising to stand.  "But this time...things will be different."

"Different how?"

For an answer, she simply smiled, set the mug down just out of my reach, and made a quick exit.

It took some squirming, but eventually I managed to grab the cup.  It wasn't hot, lukewarm at best.  But I'd drink it cold, if I had to.  Beggars can't be choosers, right?

I gulped the blood down, ready for the sour aftertaste that always comes with animal blood.  But it never came.  Bloody fucking hell...the aftertaste never came!

It was human blood, and it was the most sinfully delicious thing that I've had in my mouth in a very long time.

"Witch!"  I called out, then began licking the cup, trying to get every drop of that red nectar.  "Red!" I repeatedly bellowed between licks when she didn't show her face.

Still, no little girl appeared at the door.

"Willow!" I finally called in desperation.  I *had* to know where she'd gotten the lovely stuff.  Strangely enough, this time the witch strolled in, as casual as could be.

"You bellowed, vampire?"

"This blood...it's real.  I mean, it's human!"

Willow shrugged, all mysterious-like.  I hate that.

"Well, where'd you get it?"

She leaned back against the sink, arms across her chest. "No big, really," she said.  "I was doing some research at Willy's, we had a little chat, and here you go.  I couldn't get much though and that stuff's expensive, so take it easy."

I could only stare at her for a moment.  She was so casual about it...so matter of fact.  You'd think she'd been talking about going to the local ice-cream parlor to get a malted, not bargaining at a hellmouth's demon hangout for blood.

Something wasn't quite right.  She was *too* casual, if you know what I mean.  I was intrigued.

"My, my," I said wryly.  "Haven't we gotten all grown up suddenly?  Can't believe the same little girl who worried about placating the poor abused turkey-day natives doesn't have a problem dealing in human blood."

Willow's face became quite pink at my comment.  Apparently, she hadn't changed that much.

"I...well...like I said, it's not much," she sputtered.  "Consider it part of your Christmas and/or Hanukkah present.  Besides, Willy assured me that the blood was donated..."

"Riiight..." I smirked.  "People are lining up to donate for vampires."  I chuckled at my own words.  "Actually, they do line up, but usually for a more personal kind of donation," I added in a low tone, very near a growl.  When suddenly it occurred to me that in my chipped state, I couldn't even take advantage of those humans that frequented the vampire version of a brothel, the growl became real.   I had once considered it quite pathetic to feed in that way, too sterile and fake.  People paying money for the 'privilege' of being food? It lacked the thrill of the chase, the hunt.  It lacked...passion.  But compared to drinking animal blood out of a 'Kiss the Librarian' mug, it was nirvana, and I envied them.

Hating the feeling of desperation that was welling up inside, I mournfully inspected the cup one more time, failing to find another drop.  "Top shelf stuff, that," I said off handedly, trying to keep my thoughts from getting too pathetic.  "Must have cost a few bob."

She, on the other hand, was back to being quite composed again, rather stoic actually.  Very *un*-like her.

The redhead simply shrugged yet again.  "I gave him some useful info on the soldiers, so he made me a deal.  Like I said, vampire.  There isn't much, so you might want to take it easy."

Then she stood up and flipped on the tele.  It was time for "Passions" after all.  Did I have the stupid cow well trained or what?  At least it would take my mind off my...er, *problem* for a little while.

The opening credits were almost done before I noticed that she was still in the room, leaning against the doorway again, looking at me.

"Forget something?" I drawled, not sure I liked being stared at in that manner.  It was very...well, scientific, giving me flashbacks to my time as Hostile 17.

She shook her head, her eyes glancing down to my various shackles.
"You know," she said softly, with the barest hint of a smile, "if you behave, Spike, maybe you'll get the rest of your presents early..."

And then she was gone, but not before she could do the last thing that I expected.  She winked at me...not seductively or even coyly, but in challenge.

After a stunned moment or two, I found myself smiling.  Apparently the little witch wanted to play.  She wouldn't be a match for me, but being the gentleman that I am, I found myself most eager to participate.

The game was afoot.
 

~~Part 4~~

Well, Christmas came very quickly for ol' Spike.  Apparently, the witch hadn't consulted Father Christmas about whether I'd been naughty or nice, because the next day, I woke to find a pile of presents sitting on the toilet.  I blinked a time or two just to make sure that the mound of boxes covered in obnoxiously festive wrapping paper, perched carefully on the toilet seat wasn't some sick mirage.  Hey, if it can happen to people dying for water in the desert, then it could happen to a vampire craving blood in a watcher's tub.

So I blinked and craned my neck this way and that to get a better look.  It's when I saw the light reflected on the perfectly tied golden bows, making them glisten against the snowy white porcelain that I knew they were real.  No self-respecting mirage would dare look so bloody Norman Rockwell-like.

God how I wanted to laugh out loud, but I settled for a toothy grin instead.  The stupid cow actually thought she could buy my good behavior?  Sod all chance of that!

But she didn't need to know that yet.  Besides, I was dying--figuratively speaking, of course--of curiosity, sitting there, staring at the gifts.  What, exactly, would one red-headed, might-as-well-be-a-virgin witch buy a vampire that was chained up in a tub, anyway?

Loofah?  Tube of caulk?  Or if I'm really lucky, one of those hats that holds a beer can beer on each side and has a feeding tube attached?  Or in my case, a pint of blood on each side?

Actually, I could probably use one of those...

Anyway, the possibilities were endless...endlessly annoying, that is, and my foolish little benefactor was nowhere in sight.

"Witch."

"Witch!" I repeated more loudly when no little girl appeared.

"Red!"

Still no sign of the stubborn little thing, but at least now I could hear someone in the other room.

It wasn't until I angrily bellowed, "Willow!" at the top of my lungs--but without a hint of desperation in my voice I might add--that she bothered to appear, the bitch.  My voice was still echoing through the tiny flat when, like magic, there she was, standing in the doorway.  My very own personal Father Christmas...if he were a redheaded witch with complete bastards for friends.

"Afternoon, Spike!"

Damn she was chipper.  The way she was grinning madly as she glanced between me and the presents made me want a sip of her blood, just to see if she was on something.  I could have used a bit of a pick-me-up around then.

"What are those?" I demanded, jerking my head in the general direction of packages.

"They're exactly what they look like.  Christmas presents."  She frowned as she picked up one of the smaller boxes, fingering the curly gold ribbons.  "I would have brought in a tree, too, but I didn't think it would fit."  She bit her lip and for a moment I thought the chit was going to cry.  But then she tossed the little wrapped box back on the pile with a laugh.  "Anyway, Merry Christmas, Feliz Navidad, Joyeux Noel, Froehliche Weihnachten, Mele Kalikimaka, er--"

"Um, why?" I asked, interrupting her irritating United Nations Xmas roll call.  "I admit I'm not quite up on the whole Christmas gig, but from what I can recall, gifts are usually given to people you actually *like*...or at least to people who don't want to rip your throat out and drink your blood.  And they're usually given at Christmas time, aren't they?  They way I look at it, you're 'bout a week early, witch."

Willow glowered at me, which wasn't quite the reaction I was expecting.  "Quit trying to ruin all my fun, Spike," she pouted.  "I just happen to like wrapping things, but if you don't want them..."

Want them?  Not really.  Curious about them enough to want to rip them open with my teeth?  Damn straight.

"But I didn't get anything for you," I replied coolly.  Like a slow, lingering death followed by a long, blissfully painful unlife.

She leaned over me, so close that I could see the tiny freckles on the bridge of her nose and all I could smell was...sandalwood?  Strange, that.  I always expected her to be more the vanilla-type.

Her eyes flicked between my chained hands and feet, then back to my eyes.  "Haven't you?" she asked softly.

I must have looked confused, because all the sudden she was smiling again. She stood up straight, saying merrily, "Don't worry, Spike.  I'm Jewish.  And I'm Wiccan.  Either way, no Christmas presents required."

I leered at her.  "Suppose that means you aren't going to sit on my lap and tell me what you'd like in your stocking?" Oh yeah...I was flirting, but it's to be expected.  Bloody hell...the wench was goading me into it, actually!  I didn't know what game she thought she was playing, but I'd played them all before.  Not only did I plan to win, I wasn't even going to be a good enough sport to tell her the rules.  My grin widened and then I winked at the chit, thinking that'd really send her into a pink-cheeked tizzy.

Bloody hell was I wrong.  The smile she gave me in return knocked me for six.  Crikey, I didn't even know Red could smile like that.  It was almost sensual...sexy.  Bloody hell, it *was* a sexy smile, and it had been so long since a woman, any woman, had looked at me like that that I could feel my body begin to react.

As if sitting chained in the loo isn't bad enough, now I was getting a damn hard-on to go with it.  I had to quit staring at that mouth of hers, the moist lips, the hint of pink tongue.... Damn.  I looked back at the pile of presents, hopefully looking disgusted with the whole thing, and shifted a bit until I had the, er, situation under control.

"So, do you want your presents or not?" she asked. If the bint'd noticed my painful state, she didn't let it show.

I lifted my hands as far as the chains would allow.  "How'm I going to unwrap 'em?"  I tried again by giving her my naughtiest grin, the one that always made Dru go all damp on me.  "Want me to use my tongue, luv?"

I must really be losing my touch because not only didn't she giggle like a virgin schoolgirl, she didn't even blush.  Instead she arched one of those stubborn brows of hers, saying, "While I'm sure that would be very...enlightening, vampire, I thought it might be better if you use your hands."

There was that smile of hers again.  I tried to match it.  "You going to uncuff me then, Red?"

She shrugged, all coquettish like.  "Only if you say the magick word."

Way to ruin the mood, Witch, since there was fat bloody chance of that happening.  "Abracadabra?" I smirked.

"Suit yourself," she said with a shrug, then silently gathered up the packages and headed for the door.  "I just thought you might be hungry, that's all," she tossed back at me over her shoulder, before disappearing, leaving me alone with the tiles again.

Bollocks!

I'm going to skip ahead a bit now.  This story's bad enough without you having to read how I actually lowered myself to say the bloody 'P' word.  Remember, I wanted to be free, and like some long-dead pillock once said: 'Drastic times call for drastic measures,' right?

You're probably wondering what this is all leading up to.  You can bet Tiny Tim's crutches that I was...so let's jump ahead just a few minutes, past all the grovelly, embarrassing bits.  Now, you're going to have to pay attention, because this is when things started to get, well...pretty bloody strange.

Thanks to the marvels of modern witchcraft, less than an hour later I was standing in the middle of the watcher's lounge, unshackled, not bound in any way and without the threat of a Holy water gun pointed at my bits and pieces.  I don't understand how she did it, but I tested the damn thing and it actually worked!  Somehow the witch had reversed the 'uninvited spell'.  Instead of not being able to enter the flat, I couldn't bloody leave, could I?  She'd disinvited me to the whole damned world!!  I still don't know how she did it, but it worked.  Figures that her spells choose now to start working, eh?

So I was free to roam the watcher's place.  You think I'd be grateful just for the chance to leave the loo, wouldn't you?

But it gets so much bloody worse.

The presents.  Crikey, had I been off the mark.  They were full of clothes.  Not blood, not sharp implements of torture, not even a cushion to soften up the hard porcelain a bit.  Just clothes...really poncey ones, too.

"What is all that?" I growled, eyeing the odd items she was holding up to me.  It was driving me stark raving loony not being able to figure out what the little witch was really up to.

"Well, I know you want to go out, and I figured since you can't hurt anyone, there's no harm in letting you free for a few hours each night.  But we don't want those scary soldier guys to track you, so I figure we have to raise your body temperature, right?  That's how they found you last time, I think.  By your body temperature."

I grunted.  It was the only thing that seemed suitable at the time.

"So, we have electric socks to keep your tootsies warm, microwavable thermal long-johns, as used by the most recent expedition to Everest.  I also have those microwavable scarves and gloves - in black," she proudly told me as she held up each item for my inspection.  "Straight off the Home Shopping Network.  Then there's a black turtle neck and a wool coat..."

The coat was the worst of the lot.  It was brown.  And it was plaid.  And some how it managed to clash with the tan-and-black checkered trousers she'd shown me earlier.

"Tell me you're bloody joking, you stupid cow," I growled, making her wince.  "If I went out wearing this getup, I'd be a laughing stock!  I'd look like a cross between your twit of a watcher, Bozo the bloody clown and Steven Seagal after he let himself go!"

"Fine, don't go out!" she huffed, shoving the hideous garments back into various boxes and bags.  "Stay inside then.  It's probably for the best anyway since Giles and the rest will be back in a couple of weeks.  I'd hate for you to get used to freedom when they'd most likely just chain you back up in the tub anyway.  Why put yourself through that kind of torture?"

I kicked at all the boxes, sending the clothes flying about again.  "There has to be another way for me to go out at night and still be safe from the goon squad!"

Her eyes widened, then she frantically looked away.  "Well, um...not *really*..." she said, licking her lips as she began to pick the clothes up yet again.

Not really?  I stopped my angry pacing and scowled at her.  She looked nervous.  She was trying to hide something and making a piss-poor job of it, as usual.

"Not really?" I repeated, my curiosity getting the better of me.  I stepped on the black turtleneck sweater as she tried to pick it up. Slowly, she looked up at me.  "Spill it, Witch," I snarled, squatting down to her green-eyed level.

"There, um, is something else that *may* work," she hedged, unable to look me in the eye.  She swallowed hard, and let go of the shirt to stand up and turn away.  "There's something I might be able to do that would allow you to wear your own wardrobe and pretty much go anywhere that you want, but it does have certain...limitations..."

While I couldn't see her face, I didn't need to.  Her voice trembled.  I could hear her reluctance, her unease, her...fear?  Disappointment?  It only made me want to try this other way more.  "I'll do it."

She glanced at me cautiously over her shoulder then slowly shifted back around.  "B-but don't you want to hear about the limitations?" she asked, her voice twittering and her eyes glancing nervously about the room.

I moved towards the little redhead, loving the way she backed away from me, her breath growing more ragged with each step.  "If it keeps me out of the tub, better yet out of this flat, I'm all for it," I growled rather menacingly as I backed her up against the tele.

Her brow wrinkled and she bit her bottom lip, as if she were weighing something in her over-active brain.  "I don't know," she said.  "I think you should stick with the microwavable clothes...much safer..."

"And since when have I given a toss about safe?  I'm a vampire, unsafe by design."

"Oh, yeah, um, no 'Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval' on you," she said, attempting to smile, but if you ask me, it looked more like a nervous twitch.

Still, she earned a chuckle.  Sure, didn't know what the hell she was going on about, but it still struck me as funny.

She stared at me, licking her lips, then suddenly shook her head and ducked away.  Grabbing the socks and scarf as she went, she skittered into the kitchen.  "I, er, really think that the wardrobe change is the best way to go," she called from the other room.

I heard the sound of the microwave door slamming shut and the buttons being pushed. I thought for a moment, trying to figure out what the little chit was up to.  I had no doubt whatsoever that she had ulterior motives for getting me to wear that hideous costume.  Even she didn't have that bad of taste, but it was plainly obvious that she really wanted me to wear the clothes.  She probably couldn't wait to take my picture.  That way the whole damned Scabby Gang could get a good laugh at my expense.

There was no bloody way I was going to let that happen.  I'd already supplied that lot with enough giggles for one lifetime.

The girl was taking a steaming scarf out of the microwave when I came up behind her and slammed the glass door shut, causing her to jump.  Startled, she spun around, surprised to find me so close, no doubt.  But she didn't give up easily.  With a timid smile, she actually reached up to wrap the heated scarf around my neck, but instead I grabbed her by her delicate little wrists and yanked her closer.  "Plan B, Red.  Now!" I hissed in her ear, then let her go.  She dropped the scarf like it was on fire and stumbled as far out of my reach as she could get in the tiny kitchen.  She clung to the front of the sink with a white-knuckled grip as she tried to calm herself.

Oh yeah...I've still got it.

But I couldn't gloat for long because now she was scared of me and that wouldn't do.  Damn!  I wanted to be free, and freedom meant earning the chit's trust.  Shouldn't be hard, considering how damned innocent she was.  And even if it meant saying the 'S' word, I'd do it.  Crikey, I'd already lowered myself to say the 'P' word, what's one more nauseating nicety if it meant being free?

"Sorry, Willow," I said with something that so closely resembled sincerity that I almost fooled myself.  I ran with it.  "I haven't got much, Red, but I do have some bloody pride left, in spite of what those grunts did to me.  I still have a reputation to keep up around this hellhole."  I paused then, as if barely able to go on...as if the words were too painful to say.  "If I wear those clothes...bloody hell, pet, I might as well stake myself," I finally managed, lowering my chin and letting my gaze drop pitifully to the floor.

"I, um, er, well...are you sure?" she stammered awkwardly, and I could hear the sympathy in her voice.  Damn I'm good.

She continued.  "I can understand your wanting to, er, be yourself and everything, but...it's only clothes.  I'm sure no one will laugh at you...at least not more than once, right?" she joked with a weak smile.

I said it again, but it was damn hard.  "*Please* tell me about this other plan, Willow."

Tucking a lock of misbehaving hair behind her ear, she reluctantly said, "It-it involves a spell..."

I groaned.  Can you blame me?  What's the chance of the stupid cow managing to cast two spells in a row without one of us turning into some sort of water fowl?

"A pretty simple spell, actually," she went on to say.

"Can you do it?" I sighed.

She nodded bravely.

I ran my fingers through my hair when what I really wanted to do was yank it out by the roots in frustration.  I looked again at the clothes, especially the tweed monstrosity that was supposed to top off the whole ensemble--to make me less conspicuous, she'd claimed--and that was all it took to convince me.  I may be chipped but that doesn't mean I have to turn into a complete nancy-boy.  That was Angel's alter-ego, not mine.

I took one of those unneeded deep breaths that we vampires are so known for, and said, "In for a penny, in for a pound, right?  Do it, Witch."

At the time, they didn't sound like words of doom. But if I had known then what I know now...well, let's just say things would be different...

******

Ten minutes later, I was sitting on a chair in front of the tele, drinking a mug of that special human blood that Willow'd managed to find and pretending to watch an infomercial for 'hair in a can' while I waited for the next step.  All of the offending garments were safely tucked away out of my sight somewhere--think the little chit was afraid I'd rip them to shreds so she couldn't get her money back--and she'd already filled me in on the details of the spell.  According to the little witch, it would allow my vital signs to mimic hers.  A type of camouflage, she'd said.  Like a lizard, but without the actual color-changing, she'd assured me.  I admit I didn't really understand what she was going on about, but when she said it would hide me from any sort of heat or heartbeat detection equipment, I was sold.

I could hear the witch moving about the apartment, no doubt gathering her eye of newt and hair-of-the-dog-that-no-longer-bit-her for the spell.  I was just about to go see what she was up to when she strolled up to me with something in her hand.  She kneeled at my feet, practically between my legs, and grabbed my wrist before I could think of anything appropriately dirty to say about her position.

"What's this?" I asked as she slid something cool over my hand.

"I brought an old medical alert ID bracelet of my father's for you.  It was the least objectionable piece of jewelry I could find.  The spell requires a band of metal to be in constant contact with one of your pulse points, so I think this is the best way."  She lifted her own wrist, showing me a delicate silver chain with an ebony heart-shaped stone embedded in the center of it.  "I have to wear one, too.  They'll be linked."  I guess the girl noticed the skeptical look on my face because she babbled on, "Don't worry, this is a very simple spell...promise I won't accidentally 'Freaky Friday' us and switch our personalities."  I was unconvinced, and she was perceptive.  "And no, you won't find yourself picking out china patterns with anyone either.  Promise," she finished with a slight blush.

Relieved that I wouldn't be waking up to find myself in love with the chit, or anyone else for that matter, I relaxed a bit.  I fingered the frail-looking chain that imprisoned my wrist. "So, what's my problem?" I asked, flipping over the silver circle with the red medical emblem.

The redhead shrugged.  "You're anemic," she said, then bit her lip, apparently to keep from laughing.  So I smirked for us both at that little bit of irony.

"Now what?" I asked as she scanned some old text.

She didn't look up from the book.  "First I need to strengthen your bracelet.  We wouldn't want it to break, um, accidentally or anything."

"Accidentally.  Riiight."  Before I could comment further, she mumbled a few archaic words while running a single, slim finger along the bracelet.  I didn't really expect anything to happen, considering her track record.  Actually, she looked as surprised as I did when both bracelets began to glow.  It was like the bracelets were on fire but without the heat.  After a moment, the light faded and I was able to inspect my new bauble more closely.

The silver links didn't look any different, but then I noticed the catch was fused closed.  Melted, more like.  I tugged gingerly on the links, and they held.   I yanked harder, then gave it all I had, but the chain remained intact and tight about my wrist.  I couldn't even slip it over my hand.  That little trinket wasn't going anywhere.

"That it?" I asked hopefully.

Now she was at the table, leaning over a small bowl while she mixed various smelly powders and things together.  "Not yet," she replied.  "Still have to create the bond between the two bracelets."  She looked over at me, her green eyes begging me to change my mind.  "Are-are you sure about this?"

"Dead-certain, pet," I countered, and she went back to work. Figuring it was best to let her concentrate, else I end up swapping spit with the watcher or worse when the spell was complete, I sat back and had a smoke...or two...

Soon I was standing in the middle of a circle she'd made on the floor out of dried bat ears, or something equally smelly.  She told me to close my eyes.

"When the spell's complete, there might be a flash strong enough to burn your retinas," she informed me.  "I'd hate to mar your eyes..."

Likes my eyes, does she?  I smirked and saved that interesting tidbit for later.  As soon as my eyes were shut, I heard her begin to mumble something close behind me.

She wasn't kidding about the flash.  Even with my eyes closed the damn light was so bright I saw spots.  "That it?"

"That's it, Spike," Willow chirped cheerfully.  I turned to see her stepping out of the circle.

As much as I wanted to make a run for the door and get as far away from the watcher's flat as I could and never come back, there was still the little matter of the witch's reversed uninvited spell.

"What about the door?" I asked.

"As long as we're both wearing our bracelets, you can come and go as you please."

I was free!  Bloody fucking hell, I was free!  "It's about bloody time."  I grabbed my duster and headed for the door.

I'd already taken one step outside when I heard her ask, "So, where are *we* going, Spike?"

I turned to look at her.  She was actually smirking at me as she slipped into her coat.

"We?" I laughed at her blatant stupidity.  "Sorry, Red.  There's no 'we'.  Just *me* leaving and eventually *you* realizing how daft and gullible you are!" I laughed cruelly as I turned to leave again.  As much as I wanted to see her face crumble with the realization that she'd been used, again, I couldn't wait to slip away into the night.

I'd only taken one more step when I heard her laughing.  Curious, I had to turn to see what she found so damned amusing.

Willow was leaning in the doorway, arms crossed about her chest, giggling at me.  "Um, Spike...I don't think you want to do that," she said with a raised brow.  "I'm afraid you're stuck with me."

"What?"

"You have to stay within a few meters of me at all times," she said matter of factly.  "It's a requirement of the spell."

"Tell me you're bloody joking, Witch."

She shook her head with purpose.  "Nope.  You can go anywhere you want, Vampire, just as I promised."  She shrugged as if this sort of thing happened every day.  "As long as I go with you," she added.

I admit it.  I was stunned speechless for a moment.  It was the damn grin on her face that snapped me out of it.  It wasn't sexy this time.  It was pure, jubilant pride.

"You planned this, didn't you?" I spat accusingly.  "This was your bloody plan all along, wasn't it?"  I stormed up to her, snarling, growling, the whole ferocious demon killer bit, but she didn't even flinch.  She knew I couldn't hurt her, and she wasn't scared of me.  Not even a trembling lip!  Just that same triumphant grin.

She'd set me up.  The little bitch of a witch had set me up.  The ugly clothes, her nervousness about the spell, everything!  It had all been an act and I'd actually been stupid enough to fall for it.

"You'll pay for this, Witch," I promised her.

"Really?" She actually had the balls to sneer at me.  "How?"

"I'll--"  I stopped, struck with a thought.  She was bluffing...had to be...

"Nice try, wannabe-witch," I chuckled, shaking my head woefully.  "We both know the chances of you pulling off that kind of spell are about as likely as Angel developing a personality."

She shrugged, her huge grin fading to a half-smile.  "Suit yourself," she said.  Then she turned around and walked back inside, leaving the door wide open.  She grabbed a magazine, sat down on the chair that she'd once tied me to, and started flipping through it, all casual-like.

Calling the bint's bluff, I turned and stalked away, ready to disappear into the dark of night.  Unfortunately, I'd only gotten about two steps before I noticed how warm the ID bracelet was becoming.  With another step, the warmth turned to heat, then the heat turned to pain and soon the pain became unbearable...and not in a fun way.  Cursing at the top of my lungs by now, I blew on the bloody thing, tugged at it, pulled on it, even tore at it with my teeth, but it wouldn't budge nor did it lessen the excruciating pain.  Hoping that the spell had some sort of proximity limitation, I made a run for it...ran as far as I could as fast as I could, but I didn't get far before I was on my knees, tears of agonizing pain daring to trickle down my dead cheeks.  I was defeated...by pain...yet again.  Stumbling to my feet, I eventually made my way back to the flat.  I stopped outside the door, just close enough for the pain to be bearable so I could pull myself together.  I wouldn't give the bitch the satisfaction of seeing my like this.  And she was still sitting there, as calm as could be, reading some bloody magazine.  Obviously, the pain wasn't reciprocal.

If I could have killed her with my eyes, I would have, but just thinking about it was making my head ache as well.  Slowly I marched back inside, the agony continuing to fade with each compliant step.  She looked up only when I stopped directly in front of her to stare down into her merciless, victorious face.

"You're a bloody bitch, Witch!"

Her grin only widened.  "Thank you, Vampire."

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