Rating: R
Summary: Willow's new obsession may tear apart her relationship with Spike and her friends. Will she find her answers before then?
Disclaimer: I own nothing, just borrowing for my own amusement.
Distribution: Want, take, have...just let me know where it's going.
Feedback: Please. ghoztstarz@yahoo.com
A/N: A big thank you to midnight, without whose challenge this would never have developed. Gabrielle for her excellent advice, friendship, and beta skills. Emmy for sharing my brain, just not the part that for some ungodly reason decided to pump out a B/A fluff fic...that's all yours chick.
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Spike watched Willow, sitting there, typing away at her computer. It'd been hours that she'd been at it. The click , click of the keys never ending, never stopping. It'd been two weeks since their encounter with the six men. Fourteen days since she'd come back from the hospital, bruised and battered. Black and blue bruises marring her once perfect skin. It had been 336 hours since she had been brutally raped. 20,160 minutes and ... 48 seconds since he had lain helpless to stop them, unable to keep his Willow safe.
Yeah, he had counted the days, the hours, the minutes, driving himself slowly mad with it. She wouldn't talk to him about it, wouldn't listen to him whenever he tried to apologize. No, she just told him she needed a little more time, just a little more.
And so, he counted the time. He ticked it off in his head until it was full of numbers and increments of time, until he could stand it no more.
He didn't understand why she needed more time, or what she needed that time for. What was on that box of hers that would help her through this? What did it have that Spike couldn't provide for her? It hurt him; deep inside where he'd once promised himself he'd never let himself get hurt again.
Spike paced, slept little, and always kept an eye on her. Ever watchful for that small little hint that maybe, today, she would talk to him. That maybe today was the day she would tell him what she was doing. Maybe even, accept him back into her life. What he wanted most was to know that she didn't hate him, that she didn't blame him, no matter how much he blamed himself.
Not that she'd pushed Spike out, no. They still slept in the same bed, though not wrapped around each other as they had once done. Their touches were infrequent and hardly much more then an accident most times. Nothing more than glances, mere brushes of skin across skin before Willow would look wide-eyed and apologetic. That was what killed him. That she thought he didn't want her any more, that he didn't want her near. But, that was not it at all. He did want her, need her even.
Two weeks was a long time, even for a vampire.
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She was almost there. Just a few more things needed to come together and she would be finished, she would be able to help Spike. She just hoped it was in time. He'd been distant lately, not even kissing her on her cheek or her forehead. Part of it was probably her fault, she knew, for not reciprocating. It was just that she was so close to finding the answers she'd been searching for.
The new books Giles had sent over, along with a few files he complied just for her, were proving to be less then useful, but she appreciated the help nonetheless. Just the fact that Giles was willing to help her lifted her spirits a bit. As much as they could be lifted.
She was having a few moral issues over her decision, however. On the one hand, Spike had been beaten bloody and she had been violated. Horrors in and of themselves – definitely. But, on the other hand, she was about to release a once deadly vampire back into the world. It was for a reason though. She was doing it for him, for Spike, because she loved him. She loved him so much and when she'd seen what they'd done to him…she just couldn't go through that again.
And that's how Willow saw it, what they'd done to Spike…not to her. She couldn't think about it in terms of herself, couldn't analyze it like that. Willow had thrown herself into the search for Spike's cure with only him in mind. If she had thought it was for her, to help her in some way get through the rape, to get through the feeling of strangers hands moving roughly over her, in her…she couldn't. She just couldn't think about it. Willow couldn't…wouldn't deal with it. Somewhere in her head, she knew it was wrong to just brush it aside, to not look at it, to hide it away, but she didn't know what else to do. Plus, it was just easier this way. It was an easy out. She knew that, but didn't care. It made the ache in her heart less, it made it easier to function if she hid it away, locked it up inside of her.
Though, she didn't blame him for what had happened to her, Willow felt that if Spike had been chip-less, it would have never gotten that far. Granted, the attackers would probably have been dead, or severely hurt, but she wouldn't have been raped, violated so horribly, wouldn't be feeling what she was feeling now…dirty, angry, ashamed.
She knew she had to look crazy or mad. Spike had to force her to eat, to sleep, and to shower. It wasn't that she couldn't do those things for herself. No, she was quite capable of doing all of those things, it was just that they didn't seem nearly as important as finding the answers she was searching for.
She had to find the solution to this. It had become an obsession, a distraction to keep her mind off what had happened to her. Granted, her new goal was derived directly from that, but it wasn't the same thing as thinking about her attack. She'd thought from the very beginning that Spike's chip should be removed. It was wrong…to take away the only means of survival Spike had. Granted, he could hurt other demons…they had found that out not long after they'd released him from his chains.
Spike was a vampire. It was who and what he was, and Willow didn't want to change that, not now, not after falling in love with him. She knew his need for blood, could see when it screamed at him, made him crazy, to be around it everywhere and not be able to do anything about it.
Willow had suggested removing the chip to Buffy and Giles, but they had shot her reasoning down. They'd said it was enough that they weren't dusting them, that they wouldn't help him further by removing the very thing that kept him from killing them. But it could, Willow knew, very well kill him one day. Who knew how long that chip would last? Who knew when it would short circuit, cause a fire in his brain or something and then what would she do? Spike would be dust.
No, Buffy and Giles had been wrong to not do anything about the chip, they had been wrong to just leave it be, let Spike be leashed like some animal. He wasn't an animal. Giles had finally listened to her, but Buffy, well, she still would hear nothing of it. Buffy even went so far as to say that she would kill Spike if he were to be let loose, have the chip removed.
That just spurred Willow on more. If she removed Spike's chip, he would be able to defend himself against Buffy should she try such a thing. And she was almost there…just a little more…
She watched as Spike paced just inside her peripheral vision. She wanted to tell him what she was doing, tell him what she was planning, but she didn't want to get his hopes up. Therefore, she stayed quiet, working day and night to achieve her goal. Which, after two weeks seemed to be paying off.
Standing up, Willow stretched. She was relieved to find that the last reminder of her encounter was gone. Her back no longer ached and the scabs from the scratches from the tree bark were gone. However, she still had scars. Deep-rooted ones that she was afraid she'd never get rid of. But, she had Spike, if nothing else.
Willow was sure that he could heal even those scars, the ones that still lay buried with in her. She had barely thought about those scars since she set upon her goal. Her thinking was that they could be dealt with later, when she had more time, maybe even a better frame of mind. She knew that if she had started thinking about it from the moment she got home she would have broken down crying in a pile and not gotten up. She was sure that if she analyzed it too much, she would literally drive herself crazy. It never dawned on Willow that she had done that already, driven herself crazy with a goal, a distraction.
Walking into the kitchen, she found Spike making something at the stove. She smiled, thinking of how many times over the past two weeks he'd forced her to eat, to drink, and to sleep. He'd force food in front of her face when she just brushed the plate aside. Tears welled up in her eyes. She loved him, more then anything. That's why she had to do this, why she had to get all the pieces in place.
He'd been so comforting, telling her all the things she wanted to hear; that he was there for her, loved her. She wouldn't accept his apologies though. That she was adamant on. It hadn't been his fault; it'd been the Initiative's fault that he wasn't able to protect her. He'd tried, earning broken ribs and bones for his efforts.
“Hey,” Willow said softly, wiping the last of her tears away. She walked up to him from behind and held on. She felt him stiffen momentarily before relaxing and weaving his fingers through hers.
“Hey,” Spike replied, just as soft. He couldn't believe it. After all this time, all these days, she finally crawled out from whatever hole she'd dug herself into, and come to him. His dead heart ached with a kind of joy.
“I've almost got dinner ready,” Spike said, turning back to his cooking. The urge to just pick her up, push her against a wall, and make love to her was overpowering. He didn't want to scare her like that, not after…not after what those humans had done to her.
“Oh, um, good,” Willow said. She didn't understand his sudden brush off. ‘You've pushed him too far away,' she thought. Sighing, Willow went and sat at the little island in the kitchen. “What are we having?”
“Chicken Alfredo,” Spike answered, setting out two plates. He turned off the burners on the stove and put the chicken, pasta, and sauce on the plates. He grabbed some parmesan, setting it on the table before turning and removing the garlic bread from the oven.
Willow watched wide-eyed. She knew Spike cooked, he'd done so for her quite a few times, more often these last two weeks. But, it was something of a marvel to actually watch him. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing. She smiled, and then gasped as she realized he had set out two plates.
“Spike, I – I can't eat all of this,” Willow said, looking at both plates.
“One's for me, Luv,” Spike said. He moved to the fridge, pulling out a bag of blood for himself and a soda for her. He put the blood in the microwave, setting the timer, and reached for a glass and some ice for Willow's drink. When both were poured out, he returned to the table to see Willow staring at him, tears rimming her eyes.
Immediately, Spike was at her side, pulling her into a hug, smoothing her hair back with a soft hand.
“What is it, Willow? What's wrong?” Spike asked. He thought of a million things he could have done to upset her. She didn't like the meal, wrong kind of soda, not enough kisses, not enough of anything. For all he knew, it could've been him that was wrong.
“Thank you,” Willow said softly. Spike almost didn't catch it.
“For what?” he asked confused. That was the last thing he'd expected her to say.
“For, for everything,” she said, choking back sobs. She hadn't wanted to do this, hadn't wanted to break down in front of him like this. Spike had done so much for her, and this was how she repaid him, by breaking down into tears. “You've just…been so good to me, and I've been rotten. I'm sorry, Spike.”
“Shh, Luv, no. I love you. It's alright,” Spike said, kissing the top of her head. “Here now, eat up, and then I can give you a nice long bath, yeah?”
Willow nodded. Slowly she unwound her arms from around his waist, but she didn't want to let go of him completely, afraid that he would leave, go away, and she didn't think she could handle that. Her hand held onto his, tightly, as she picked up her fork with her other hand and began to eat.
Something was bothering her. He could see it, sense it in the way she held onto his hand, the way her muscles tensed but didn't relax. Spike didn't know what to do though, he didn't know what she needed, and he'd always prided himself on knowing what she needed and wanted. He just hoped that she would tell him what was going on in her head soon, give him some small hint.
Spike didn't need to be a psychiatrist to know that she was repressing what had happened to her. He didn't need a fancy Doctorate to know that it wasn't healthy. What he didn't know, was how to get her to talk about it, to let it all out. He knew the tears she'd shed had been for him and not for herself. He'd tried to get her to talk, tried to bring those tears forth, believing that would help her, but she'd pushed him away with whatever project she'd thrown herself into.
Sighing, Spike reached across the small island, pulled his plate to him, and began to eat. They both ate in silence, neither knowing what to say but knowing something needed to be said. Willow hadn't realized just how hungry she'd been and Spike's food was delicious. She was embarrassed to find she'd practically wolfed it down in a matter of minutes. Spike laughed, pushing his plate over to her and watched, pleased, as she finished off his food as well.
“All full, then?” Spike asked when she'd swallowed the last bite of food.
Willow nodded, blushing, and said, “Thanks. It was really good.”
Smiling, Spike leaned down to brush a soft kiss along her lips before he pulled back. He could almost see her emotions swirling around inside of her head, the confusion, and the uncertainty. What he wouldn't give to see his happy, bright, smiling Willow again. He missed the easy way they had been together, the touching, kissing, and holding. He was very aware of the fact that he needed constant contact with the one he loved. He always had. It was his nature to want to hold, to hug, to love. But, these past few weeks, he'd barely touched her and it was killing him a little inside, but now…now she was holding on to him and he couldn't help but close his eyes for a moment and revel in it, appreciate it.
“Ready for a bath?” Spike asked, opening his eyes to look down at her. She nodded and gently he pulled her to her feet, leading her upstairs to the bathroom.
Willow was nervous. Before, when he'd forced her to take showers, she'd run on automatic…her mind off some place else. At the time, she didn't think about being naked in front of him, she hadn't thought about him running his hands along her body. He'd done it so medically, so impersonally, that it didn't register as anything more then a basic necessity, like eating. But now that she had come out of her haze, she was aware of everything. She could feel her heart pick up its pace, she could feel her palms go sweaty in his. It was almost like a first time. There were butterflies in her stomach.
She wasn't sure if she could do anything though. She'd been brutally violated, and while she knew that Spike would never do something like that to her, she didn't know if she was ready just yet to make love to him like that. There were still pieces of her that were hesitant to even have the close contact a bath would require. But, it was Spike, it was her Spike. Her lover, her friend, her companion. And she was his. Completely.
Hesitation and confusion made their way off Willow in heavy waves, tainting the air around her. Spike's heart fell just a bit. He hadn't intended to do anything more then wash her, clean her, and feel her close to him. Now, he thought maybe a bath was a bad idea.
“Spike, I…,” Willow said, trailing off once they reached the bathroom. She wasn't sure what to say, or even how to say it. It was a confused jumble of emotions in her head and she was having a hard time separating them.
“It's alright, Luv,” Spike said. He could do this, run the bath, and let her be, wait for her to come to him. He had to do this. It was apparently what she wanted, if the scents she was giving off were any clue.
Willow watched in confusion as Spike seemingly went into automatic, running the bath water, checking the temperature, pouring in the exact amount of oils she liked. It was disconcerting. She didn't know what she'd done, or even if it was her fault. Maybe he didn't want to touch her, she thought. Maybe he thought her damaged now, thought her dirty. Tears welled up, unbidden, in her eyes. She couldn't stand the thought that Spike didn't want her anymore and cursed the men that had done this to her all the more.
Pulling resolve from somewhere inside of her, Willow's back straightened and her eyes dried. Fine, then if he didn't want her anymore, the least she could do was take away his chip and let him go on his way. He could even kill her, because she didn't want to live a life that didn't have Spike in it, not after experiencing what it had been like to have him with her. To have him love her like she'd never been loved before.
Spike had scented the salt on the air, knowing instinctively that she was crying again. He wanted to turn to her, to wrap her in his arms and never let go again, but he didn't know if that was what she wanted, but as soon as the tears started, they stopped. He looked around at her and saw that she'd shut her self off. He could see the far-away, dead look in her eyes and silently cried out in pain, howled inside his mind.
“Spike, you don't have to do this. I'm not helpless, though I appreciate it,” Willow said, trying to keep her voice from wavering. She could see him start to speak, but put up her hand to stop him. She had to get this out, and then maybe it would hurt a little less. “I'm sorry. I never meant for this to happen. I never meant to be attacked. I never meant for you to get hurt. I know – I know it's not my fault. I know that I didn't cause it, but it happened nonetheless.
“I do blame someone though. I blame the Initiative. If you – If you hadn't had that chip in your head, none of this would have happened. I want to remove it for you, if you'll let me. I want them to pay Spike, and I know that you'll do that. If not for me then at least for yourself.
“I also don't blame you if you don't want to see me again. But, could you just…just please, when I remove the chip…If you don't want me any more…,” Willow's voice trailed off, unwanted tears falling down her cheeks; her throat became tight with emotion. Swallowing hard, she continued. She had to ask him, to make him promise. “If you don't want me anymore, when you're chip-less, could you please kill me? Promise that you'll kill me if you don't want me.”
He couldn't move, couldn't think, couldn't react. Her words, the fact that she would want to die without him. It hurt and made him happy all at the same time. Spike had always been the one that would lay his life down for the one he loved. Spike had always been the one that had asked for death when he was rejected, turned away. Finally, he could move and he pulled Willow to him, murmuring into her ear about how much he loved her and that he could never leave her, ever.
“Willow, you're mine, always mine. Forever mine. I love you; don't want to let you go. Didn't think you wanted me. Please, please don't cry, Luv,” Spike said, tears coming to his eyes as well.
“You – you still want me? You don't think I'm dirty?” Willow asked, still a bit shocked about Spike's reaction. She'd expected maybe a short, curt nod and a see-you-later. She'd expected him to be relieved to be rid of her. She'd not expected this outpouring of love.
“Of course I still bloody want you! Are you daft? I want you forever. You're mine. I mean it,” Spike said, kissing her all over her face before moving to her lips, kissing them softly. Spike could feel her stiffen in his embrace and let go of her, trailing his hands down to hold hers. He'd known she wouldn't want physical contact, not like that, but he couldn't help it. She was his, was his everything.
“So, want to get rid of the chip?” Spike asked after a few moments.
Willow nodded, biting her lip. She wasn't sure if he would be mad, or happy, or what. He didn't really seem to be anything, just standing there, looking at her. She wasn't sure if she liked the scrutiny and the fact that they were in the bathroom, this time with her fully aware of the implications, she stiffened again. Willow just didn't know if she could do this, but she tried not to think of it, instead, focusing on his question.
“Yeah, I do. I mean, you're a vampire, I know that, and I love that part of you as well. I just – I just think what they did was wrong. You know? But, I don't know…,” Willow said, her words trailing off.
“You're having one of those moral issues you White Hats have,” Spike said, smiling when Willow nodded again, looking away. He cupped her face, turning it back up to him. “I love you, Willow. And if that means I don't get to have all of the luxuries of being chip free, then I guess I'll have to live with that.”
Spike wasn't so sure he could do it, but he was willing to try. Anything for his girl, anything to make Willow happy; and that seemed to make her happy as her face brightened and she beamed a smile at him. He'd so missed those smiles and was pleased he'd been the one to put one on her face.
“So, ‘bout that bath?” Spike asked, winking at her.
Willow looked nervously from him to the tub and back again. She couldn't do it, she realized, couldn't expose herself freely like that…not yet. She needed time. Time to think about it, time to analyze her feelings. Spike had been there, witnessed it all, and had been helpless to stop her. She hated that she did fault him, just a little. She wished that he could have stopped them, she wished that he could have saved her from that…from it all. But, he hadn't, couldn't. Well, she would remedy that…soon.
“'S all right. I'll leave you to it,” Spike said, noticing her hesitation. He cursed himself silently for pushing her too far too fast. With one last kiss on her forehead, Spike slipped out of the bathroom and closed the door behind him. He leaned on the wall next to it, listening as Willow sighed; letting out a breath she'd been holding and took her bath.
A tear slipped silently down Spike's cheek as he vowed to kill the bastards that had done this to her.
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“When will she get here?” Willow asked Giles as she talked to him on the phone. It had to have been the third time that day, Spike was sure of it. Nevertheless, he knew thatWillow was just trying to make sure everything was in place. The removal of his chip was imminent, just two days away. There were still a few preparations that needed to be done, but he was growing impatient.
It wasn't just the chip and its removal; it was the fact that he could exact revenge. That was what he wanted more then anything, to get those that had hurt his precious girl. He wanted to rip them to shreds, cause them more pain then they could ever imagine, and wallow in their blood. He never expressed this to Willow, knowing that she wouldn't like that, to see that side of him, but he thought about it. Spike thought about those bastards and what they'd done to her every time Willow flinched at his touch, thought about them every time she pushed him away unconsciously. They deserved so much worse than death, but that was all he had to offer. He knew their deaths would come quicker than he would want them to, but death was final. They wouldn't be allowed to ever hurt his girl again, or anyone else for that matter. It was petty revenge, he knew, but he was a vampire and his love had been violated; to say nothing of the beating he'd received at their hands. No, they deserved everything he would give them and more.
“Ok, and she said she didn't mind coming over here?” Spike heard Willow ask.
“Great. Thank you so much Giles. And tell Kyna thank you for me. I love you too, bye,” Willow said hanging up. She turned to Spike, sighing when she saw he was pacing again. He'd been doing that more and more often as the days counted down to when his chip would be removed. Spike was so nervous and anxious that he was making Willow a bit jumpy.
“Calm down. Kyna will be in tomorrow morning, and then we can get all of the preparations out of the way and remove the chip,” Willow said, standing in his path, looking up at him. She took his hand in hers and lifted it up to her mouth, kissing it softly.
“I know, Luv. But, I'm impatient. I would've liked to have this bloody chip out two weeks ago when you suggested it. But, I've waited this long, another day or so won't kill me…more.”
“Right, so, could you please stop walking a hole in my carpet?”
“Sorry. I'm gonna head out for a smoke. Holler if you need anything.”
“I will. Love you.”
“Love you too,” Spike said, leaning down to kiss her softly before walking out the back door. He left it open so he could keep an eye and ear on her. It was paranoia, but he did it anyways. Until the day they'd been attacked, Spike had never really thought about the human element being a threat to the happy world he'd built around Willow.
One would think that due to having the extreme and horrid pleasure of living on the Hellmouth, they would be spared the human vultures, the bad seeds. But he was wrong. He had misjudged, miscalculated...well, not again. Nothing happened to Willow without him knowing about it and she went nowhere without Xander or Giles with her. Willow would have liked not to leave the house at all, but the other two men had convinced her that it wasn't healthy for her to lock herself up like that, and Spike was inclined to agree.
Willow walked to the kitchen and grabbed a soda, waving at Spike as she walked past the back door to go sit down at her computer. There was nothing left to research, nothing left to look up, but she went over it all anyways, just to be sure she wasn't missing anything.
When she'd come across the spell she'd been ecstatic. However, once she read further, she realized it was way beyond her capabilities. It was fifty times harder than what she'd ever dabbled in, and ten times beyond anything she'd ever seen at Giles'. It was well and truly complicated, intricate, and required a vast knowledge of the occult that she didn't have.
However, that hadn't stopped her from promising Spike that she would remove his chip. Now, finally, she would be able to make good on that promise.
Willow had called Giles after finding the spell, giving him the specifics and details. He agreed that it was way beyond her and even him, but that he knew of a Coven outside of Devon back in England that had a witch with such skills. He promised Willow he would contact them immediately. She couldn't thank him enough.
Giles had tried to talk to Willow about her attack during their conversations, but Willow shut down, saying she was fine, when in reality, she wasn't. She had avoided talking about the attack with everyone. Whenever Spike and Willow talked, the subject was avoided, even when they were talking about removing his chip. Granted, the attack was the catalyst for her to find a way to remove it, but they never mentioned it.
Nor did Spike and Willow do anything more then hug, kiss, or hold hands. Every time Spike's hand drifted close to her breasts, or moved too close to her hips she would immediately stiffen. She hated that she had that reaction, but didn't know what to do about it. Honestly, she didn't want to even think about it. Willow was sure that if she just ignored it, it would all go away. If she ignored it long enough she would be able to go back to what they had before the attack. Willow couldn't be more wrong, but she didn't know what the repercussions would be by repressing such emotions. With the project of the chip to keep her preoccupied, Willow never thought about it other than being ‘the attack'. And that suited her just fine.
“Gonna go cross-eyed,” Spike said, slipping up behind her, making enough noise so as not to scare her. He'd accidentally scared her once, coming up behind her, and she had been in tears for hours. He didn't make that mistake again.
“I just want to make sure I'm not forgetting anything,” Willow said, scrolling down the list of ingredients for the spell. Most of them she had there at the house. The rest that were needed, either Giles was providing or Kyna was bringing with her. She wasn't sure how she was going to ever repay the witch, but Giles had said that was not necessary. He had apparently explained the situation to her and she was more then willing to help. Still, Willow wanted to do something for her.
“You're worse then bloody Santa Claus. He's knows to stop after just checking twice,” Spike said, smiling down at her. He loved when she laughed and his little joke hadn't disappointed. Willow giggled softly, rolling her eyes.
“I'm Jewish, Spike,” Willow said.
“No, you're mine,” Spike said, leaning down to brush a soft kiss across her lips. He smiled back at her. It was at times like these he could almost imagine that she was whole again, that there wasn't something eating away at her. Despite all of his efforts to get her to open up, Willow wouldn't do it. She would just clam up and lock herself in the bathroom, crying silently, pretending to take a shower. Spike had also learned quickly not to mention her part of the attack.
“Promise?” Willow asked, entwining their hands.
“Always,” Spike said, squeezing her hand gently.
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Kyna walked slowly through the terminal from the aircraft to the airport. She loathed airplanes, hated being cooped up like that. It was cramped and uncomfortable. The book she had brought with her had proved to be less then useful in keeping her mind off things during the long flight. Her thoughts had always drifted back to the young girl, Willow, that Rupert had told her about and her vampire lover, Spike.
She spotted Rupert the moment she made it through customs. A bright smile graced her face, making the lines that had developed over the years seemingly disappear. She wore a simple outfit of a loose top and long flowing skirt made of linen. It was a basic off-white, but it showed off the creamy color of her skin perfectly. The black of her hair contrasted beautifully with the pale hazel of her eyes. She'd even outlined her eyes in a charcoal color that brought their paleness out more.
Giles couldn't help but look her over as she walked confidently over to him. It had been years since he'd seen her last and those years had been very good to her. She waved at him and he waved back.
“Rupert! It's so good to see you,” Kyna said, reaching for his hands. She took them and leaned in to place a kiss on his cheek.
“Kyna, my dear, you look wonderful,” Giles said, kissing her back. “How was the trip?”
“Bloody awful,” Kyna said, laughing. Giles shared in the laughter, knowing the horrors of traveling from England to the United States. It was a long, boring, and dull trip over a lot of water, more layovers than any person thought necessary, and not nearly enough to do.
They walked hand in hand through the terminal, getting her bags before heading out to Giles' car. On the trip back to his apartment, they chatted about politics, the Coven, the Watcher's Council, and Giles' recent occupation…being a man of leisure. That got Kyna going, laughing uncontrollably. Giles joined in as well. Silence fell easily between them as Giles showed Kyna to her room and got her settled. Finally, they were back in the living room, sharing a cup of tea.
“How is she Rupert, really?” Kyna asked. They both knew whom she was talking about. Willow. When Giles had called her, he had skimmed over the events that led to Willow wanting to do the spell, but Kyna knew what had gone on. She was a woman of the day, after all. She knew the horrors that went on in this world, both demon and human alike. Her heart silently ached for the poor girl.
“I'm ashamed to say I don't know, Kyna,” Giles said, setting down his tea. He leaned back in his chair, sighing. “When I ask, she only says that she is fine. I know she's not, but I don't want to force her to talk if she is not ready. I'm afraid that would only push her away more.”
“You love her,” Kyna said. She was never one to miss anything, and when it came to Rupert, she knew more then most.
“Like my own child,” Giles said, not surprised by her insight. At first, when they'd met in the beginning of his Watcher days, it was disturbing, but he had grown used to it, and until that moment, hadn't realized how much he missed it.
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Willow was frantically cleaning the house in preparation for Kyna. Walls were scrubbed, carpets were vacuumed and shampooed. Grudgingly, Spike helped, but only because it would help her get done faster. He thought if she got it all done, she would be able to relax before the witch came.
"Never went through this trouble for me," Spike said, acting as if he was hurt by that fact.
"I just figured anything was a step up from your crypt," Willow teased back. She ducked the rag that Spike had thrown at her, laughing.
"It was a nice crypt, was gonna have it all nice and posh," Spike said.
"I just want to make a good impression, Spike," Willow said, explaining. "I mean, she's doing us a big favor. The least I can do is give her a clean place to work."
"I know, Luv, and I'm sure she will appreciate it," Spike said, bending over to retrieve his rag. He stood up and placed his hands on her shoulders, stilling her movement. Spike looked into her eyes. They were still clouded with emotions he couldn't name, still dark and hurt. He wished more than anything that she would snap out of it, or at least let him help her, let anyone help her. But, instead of saying any of that, he leaned down and gave her a small kiss.
More and more often, Spike's mind had been drifting to a different line of thought. He wasn't thinking about his chip, at least not the way Willow thought he was. He wondered if this bird that was coming could help Willow. Spike was now completely worried about her state of mind. He'd lived with Drusilla long enough to know what insanity looked like and he could see it starting slowly inside of Willow. It wasn't anything outwardly noticeable either, that was the worst. She was letting this eat her up from the inside out. He could see the far away stare in her eyes and ached to wipe it away.
That's what had brought him to his current line of thinking. Spike thought that maybe, just maybe, he could talk the witch from England into curing Willow instead of taking away his chip, or even doing both.
If he could just convince this Kyna that Willow was in more need of help, maybe she would do it. Spike could always find another way to have his chip removed. There had to be more then one way. All he wanted was his Willow back. He wanted the happy, beautiful girl he'd fallen in love with. He wanted to make love to her again.
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Willow slept restlessly that night, tossing and turning, haunted by nightmares, while Spike lay awake, trying to soothe her. He knew she was going about finding a solution to the ‘problem' the wrong way. It wasn't removing his chip that would solve anything, of that he was sure. It was getting her to talk, getting her to finally open up and let it all out.
Floodgates that were fit to burst held her emotions back. Spike just didn't know when that would be. He wanted to be there for her, but he was afraid that he was almost like a constant reminder as well. Something had to be done. And if bringing those bastards down was a part of it, then so be it, but Spike knew better. He knew that he would just be adding to her emotional distress if he killed them. It would be something that would hang over her head and he didn't want that. She was pure; death should never touch her, not like that.
He sighed to himself as Willow whimpered again. Spike had settled her so that her back was to his chest, an arm wrapped around her torso while the other curled around her head to run through her hair. He whispered soothing words into her ear, telling her it would be alright, that he had her and would watch over her.
Slowly she settled back into slumber. It killed him to see her like that. To know that he would have to pull away from her before she woke. If he didn't, she would leap out of bed, and that hurt worse than any stake to the heart ever could.
-----------------------------
“Come on, Spike! She'll be here any minute!” Willow called upstairs to him. She had been up hours ago, getting ready. Now it was down to the last hour and she was nervous, excited, and scared all at the same time. She had let Spike sleep, knowing she would just grate on his nerves. But, she couldn't help it.
"Heard you the first bloody time, Pet," Spike called back. He was still in bed; head covered and didn't want to move. It was comfortable. But, reluctantly he rolled out, grabbing his clothes before heading to the shower.
Spike could hear her bustling downstairs, the clinking of cups on saucers, the soft boil of water as it sat for tea. But, over it all, her could hear her heart beating hard and fast. Spike could feel her nerves as if they were his own. They crawled over him, making him shiver.
Slowly, he climbed into the shower, turning the heat on high and gasped at the hot water before he let it gradually sink into his bones. Idly, he wondered if he could burn up like this, by getting some sort of burn on his skin. Probably not. And that was a morbid thought, even for him, so he shook it off, trying instead to concentrate on Willow. She was trying so hard to impress this Kyna that was coming that Spike was afraid she would be disappointed by whoever showed up. It was almost as if Willow had put her on a pedestal, and that wasn't good. Kyna was not the answer to all of her problems. If nothing else, with the removal of Spike's chip, there would just be more problems.
Like Spike feeding again, hunting and killing. He knew without a doubt that he would do it, no matter how much he had promised Willow he wouldn't. Even now, with Willow being the only one around him, the blood called to him. He could almost imagine the sweet, coppery elixir travelling over his tongue and down into his throat. He could almost feel that thrill go through him, that sudden jolt of life that only fresh, pumping blood could give. The bagged stuff had nothing on blood directly from the source.
He dreamed of it almost nightly, of the kill, the adrenaline rush, the crimson flows. He had just recently started waking up in full game face, preparing to bite into Willow, or his own arm. It was enough to make sure he didn't sleep in the same bed with her. Well, he would lay down with her through the night, but he tried not to sleep. The last thing Willow needed was to wake up to his fangs embedded into her neck. That would not help her at all.
Finishing up his shower, Spike stepped out and dried off, dressing quickly, before heading down to help Willow. She had the coffee table in the living room set up with candles that were giving off a soothing fragrance and four teacups set out. Walking into the kitchen he found her fussing with the tea kettle.
“Need help?” Spike asked, leaning on the door jamb.
“Could you get the snacks from the fridge? The plate with the crackers and cheese and set them out? She'll be here any minute,” Willow said, barely looking at Spike. Just as she poured the hot water into the teapot that matched the cups…the doorbell rang.
“Oh! Hurry! Put those and this out on the coffee table,” Willow said, frantic. She took a deep breath, rubbing her hands along the long deep purple skirt she'd chosen to wear.
Slowly, Willow walked to the door and took another breath before opening the door.
“Giles,” Willow beamed. “And I assume this is Kyna?”
“Yes, very nice to meet you,” Kyna said, reaching out to shake Willow's hand.
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Spike listened from the darkened kitchen as Willow greeted their guests. He heard them make their way into the house and sit in the living room. The muted conversation was nothing more than pleasantries, such as asking the woman how her flight went. The usual things one would expect when meeting someone new.
Finally, he heard Giles ask where he was and Spike came through the kitchen door with tea and all the other little things Willow had deemed appropriate for the occasion. Spike tried to put on a good face, smiling to the Watcher and the Witch as he placed the tea tray on the coffee table. Giles beamed back at him, as did Willow, but it was Kyna who noticed the strain in his eyes, who noticed the smile that didn't quite fit.
They stared at each other, heedless of the others around them. Spike was sure now that he could at the very least talk to her, maybe even convince her. Maybe.
"Spike, is it?” Kyna asked, getting up from the couch. Immediately Willow was on her feet and nodding, making the introductions.
"I would like to speak with you," Kyna said, "alone."
Spike nodded but looked over at Willow, who was nodding in agreement as well. Right at that moment, Willow looked fragile, child-like, and Spike wanted nothing more than to give her back what was so painfully and brutally taken from her.
Spike and Kyna looked at each other again, holding their gazes as Willow babbled between them. She was saying things about how she knew they would need to talk, find out everything they could about the chip, and she had information. Information about how it was built and where it was placed. She went on and on, and it pained Spike to know just how much she was ignoring her own needs in favor of what she thought were his. Kyna saw this, and took pity on him.
"Thank you, Willow," Kyna said, interrupting the flow of Willow's words. "Is there somewhere private Spike and I can go to talk?"
"Yes," Willow said, walking towards the hallway. "My dad has a study here for when he's home and needs to work. It's just over here. There are chairs you can use. If you need anything, I'll...I'll be out here with Giles."
"Thanks, Luv," Spike said, bending down to place a small kiss on her forehead. Willow flinched just a little and Spike closed his eyes tight, willing away the tears that pricked up at that.
"Um, ok, just ... take as long as you need," Willow said.
"Thank you, Willow, we shouldn't be too long," Kyna said, pulling Spike through the door and shutting it behind him.
They both moved quietly through the room, turning on a lamp on the desk and one that stood in the corner to give the small room more light. There was a simple ficus tree behind the desk and to the right, but it was fake. After all, why would the Rosenbergs keep a live plant in a house they barely lived in?
The desk was a little too large for the room, making it the first thing you saw when you walked in. It was a deep mahogany, stained and shining, with just a slight layer of dust over it. There were bookshelves of the same wood along the walls to either side and behind the desk. There was one window directly behind the large, soft, brown leather chair. The shades were drawn, though it was close to night anyways. On the desk sat a full-size calendar, the year still set to 2003. A mug that said, "I'm here to help." sat to one side of the calendar and in it were one pencil and one pen. There were documents adorning the walls; doctorates and honorary certificates, the sort of things psychiatrists would be expected to collect through years in the field.
Spike noticed there was not one picture of Willow in this room, not one thing to say, 'yes, I have a child that I am proud of and care a great deal about'. He looked at Kyna and was sure she had noticed it too.
"So, talk," Spike said, slumping low in the chair and putting his booted feet up on the desk. He knew he wanted to talk to her, but she was still an unknown factor, someone new, an outsider.
He was the Big Bad, A Master Vampire; it was bad enough he had lost his bite and had been reduced to helping the Slayer, on occasion, when Willow begged, or asked nicely. However, he could push all of that aside because through that, he had gotten Willow. He loved her. Still loved her. But no matter what happened, or how it happened, or even whose fault it was, he was supposed to be able to take care of her. Spike was supposed to make sure that nothing bad ever happened to her, that she was safe with him. And he had failed. He had failed and she had been hurt, both mentally and physically...and he could do nothing to make it better. Nothing to heal the wounds and scars that ravaged her mind.
Spike knew that was what hurt him the most, finding out that he could not protect the one and only thing he held dear. That was what wounded his pride and made him irritable, moody, and unapproachable - and that was just the tip of the iceberg.
"How long has it been?” Kyna asked. She chose that neutral question for a reason. It gave Spike two ways to take the conversation. He could take it business-like and answer about his chip - that being the reason she was there, after all. Or he could answer about the attack. Kyna hoped that he would choose the more personal topic.
The question took Spike down a notch. He stared at her, scowling just a bit, wondering what she was getting at asking something like that. It was a wide open question and Spike knew it. What he didn't know was what to do with it. He didn't know how to answer it. Finally, he noticed Kyna watching him intently.
"How long has what been?” Spike asked.
"You are making this bloody difficult you know," Kyna said, sighing. "Fine, if you don't want to talk, we won't. Just know...you're not helping Willow if this is how you are all the time."
She stood up, ready to walk out on the irritating vampire. She hadn't flown all the way from England just to play babysitter for an overgrown child. Kyna knew that she must play nice with the vampire, and she did. Nevertheless, with the way he was acting, it was no wonder to her that Willow was not healing, as she should.
"She won't let me help," Spike said, under his breath. He cursed softly when he saw Kyna turn back to him, a curious look on her face.
"And what makes you say that?” She asked, stepping away from the door. May not be rousing progress, but it's something, Kyna thought.
"Nevermind. Look, you're going to remove the chip, yeah?” Spike asked. Kyna nodded her head. "Then what's all this 'bout Red then?"
“Nothing, it was nothing. I just thought you'd want to help her is all,” Kyna said, shrugging. “But, I can see you don't so I won't waste your time.”
“She doesn't want to talk and I won't make her,” Spike said, standing up quickly. He dug into his pockets, searching for his cigarettes and cursed when he came up empty.
“No one told you to make her talk, William,” Kyna said, smiling when Spike turned, surprised. “Rupert gave me a … history lesson on you last night.”
“That so.”
“Yes, that's so. He wanted to talk me out of performing this spell,” She said, holding up a hand when Spike made to speak. “You know he is all too happy to have you continue to be restrained by that piece of military equipment. Especially when you are with someone whom he considers like a daughter to him.”
“Then why are you doing it?”
“Because I think it's wrong, what they did.”
Spike scoffed, looked at her closely, and then said, “Why? Took away my bite, they did. Nice and chained. A vampire fit to show off to your friends.”
“You don't believe that anymore than I do. It's cruel. They had no right to mess with nature in that way. You cannot tell me you are happy to have that inside of you.”
Instead of answering, Spike stayed silent. There were other reasons why he wasn't so sure about having this particular spell performed on him and it had nothing to do with his own issues with magick. It had to do with him being a killer. He knew Willow wouldn't approve of him hunting, of him being the demon that he was. With the chip, it was easy to be with Willow. It took away the worry of her running away from him at the flash of fang.
"Still, knowin' what I am and what I'd do when unleashed, you're still willin' to do it?” Spike asked.
Most of what was in Spike howled at him to shut up and just let the witch perform the spell so he could finally be free again. Only that small part of him, the thing that made him different from any other vampire, that allowed him to love so completely, tried to be heard over his demon, telling Spike to think about Willow and what this would do to her. He couldn't decide, couldn't make up his mind.
"I didn't say I was happy about it, William," Kyna said. "And don't go thinking it will be tonight either. You are not ready and neither am I. Jet lag is bloody awful on concentration and I think you and Willow have some talking to do."
Spike was speechless. He hadn't expected the conversation to go quite as it had. Hell, he didn't know what he had expected, but that certainly wasn't it. He barely noticed when Kyna slipped out of the room and left him there, lost in his own thoughts.
-------------
Kyna walked into a strained conversation between Giles and Willow. Having just come from one with Spike, she was reluctant to step forward and interrupt.
"Yes Giles, I'm...fine. Don't worry," Willow said. She looked back and saw Kyna just as Giles' eyes sought her out.
"Oh! How'd the talk go?” Willow asked, standing up. She was nervous, curious, and worried all at the same time.
"About as well as can be expected," Kyna said, smiling at Willow. "But I think I have everything I need. You've given the information about the chip and where it is located to Rupert. Now, I need to rest. Jet lag has me worn to the bone."
"Oh," Willow said, just a little crestfallen. She knew the spell would not be performed tonight, Giles had told her as much over the phone, but the hope had still been there. "Alright. Just let me know if you need anything else."
"Thank you, Willow, Spike," Kyna said, walking with Giles to the door. "Remember what we talked about."
Spike nodded, and ignored the confused looks of Willow and Giles. He would deal with Willow's questions, while Kyna could handle the Watcher. For some reason, Spike had a feeling she knew just how to handle the Watcher, too. He shrugged it off and closed the door behind them before walking back to his smoking area just outside the kitchen door. Willow followed him, though not outside, and sat on the floor facing him. She just stared; waiting, watching, and thinking.
"What is it, Luv?” Spike asked, finally breaking the silence.
Willow shrugged at the question, but continued looking at Spike, almost as if she was studying him for a test the next day. She had things to ask, questions and just general curiosities, but she didn't know what to start with first, or where to go with them. There were times when she wished she could read Spike like a book, flip through the pages to find the things that made him happy - made him tick - but, he wasn't, and she couldn't. Instead, she had to play this guessing game.
"Why aren't you happy?” Willow asked finally.
"'M happy. Not hangin' flags happy, but I'm content, why?"
"You...I don't know. You don't seem like it. I mean, you're getting the chip removed. I'd think you'd be throwing a party or something. I don't know."
"Removing the chip won't solve my problems, it'll just create more," Spike said softly, watching his cigarette burn. He'd wanted to talk to her about this for weeks, and now she had finally brought it up. He figured he might as well try to explain it to her, his fears his thoughts.
"What do you mean?"
Spike's face changed to that of his demon and he looked at Willow with yellow eyes, begging her to see for herself so that he wouldn't have to explain. She reached out, slowly, and ran her finger gently over one of the ridges. Spike's eyes closed and a soft sound rumbled in his chest. He could have lost himself in that touch, that sensation, but he knew where he would want it to go and that was exactly where Willow wouldn't want to go. Reaching out quickly, Spike grabbed her hand and stilled her movements. A small gasp escaped her lips and he could hear her heart thud loud and hard in her chest. He closed his eyes again, briefly inhaling the sweet smell of her fear before he let his demon face slip and he looked at her with dark liquid blue eyes.
"I love that you touch me, pet, but...," Spike said, his voice trailing off. He didn't know how to tell her what that one touch stirred in him - didn't know how to say that she probably wasn't ready for what he wanted.
"But what? Please Spike, tell me."
"I can't. I won't. You don't want to hear it anyways. 'Sides, it's late and you should be getting some sleep."
Willow looked at the clock, and then looked back at Spike. It was still early, though she was tired, but 10PM? That just wasn't normal. Moreover, what was he hiding from her? What wouldn't he tell her?
"Don't look at me like that, Luv. You've had a hard day, waitin' round for that chit to get here with the Watcher. 'Sides, you look tired."
"A little, but, what did you two talk about?” Willow asked, trying to stall going to bed. She watched Spike look out into the night and wondered what was going on. She hadn't noticed until now just how distant he had become since she'd told him they would be removing his chip. He tossed his cigarette, stood, and closed the door behind him before helping Willow up to her feet.
"Spell stuff, a bit about the chip and how it feels goin' off," Spike said, holding her hand and walking towards the stairs. He needed to get out and think, needed to go somewhere other than here. The walls suddenly felt like they were closing in on him and he was suffocating.
"Oh," Willow said, a little disappointed. That's what she had thought he and Kyna had talked about, but she had rather hoped there was something else. Maybe some specifics about the spell, or even if Willow would have a part in it. She had asked Giles, but he'd said Kyna could handle it by herself. That had upset Willow just a little. She wasn't a super-wiccan, but she could have helped with the herbs or something...anything. It was she, after all, whot had found the spell for Spike, and it was Spike, her Spike who was to be the recipient of the fruits of all of her hard labor. She had thought for sure she could get in on just a piece of it, just something. She needed something to do. Without the search for the spell to remove Spike's chip, Willow was finding she was bored and left to thinking...which led to thoughts she didn't want to have. They were thoughts about that night and she couldn't, wouldn't go back and revisit it...not even in her mind.
The silence between them was strained and almost palpable. Spike wondered how it had come to this. He could still remember the first time he'd seen his claiming mark on her neck, could feel the rush of excitement and arousal as Willow matched him. He wanted to fix it, make it so they were no longer broken, so that she was no longer broken...but he didn't know how. He cursed himself for being a ponce and not forcing her to talk about it sooner. Now that night seemed like the hardest thing to bring up, as if just mentioning it would force it to happen again.
Finally, they reached Willow's room and he led her silently inside and stopped. He didn't want to be in here, not with the memories of what they had once done in here so vivid in his mind. He could almost feel her warmth, could almost smell and taste her. No, he couldn't stay with her tonight. He would regret what might happen, he was sure.
"Sleep well, yeah? I've got to go out, pick some things up and whatnot. I'll be back in a bit," Spike said, and left the room without waiting to see what Willow would say.
Willow stood in her room, lost, broken, and left alone. Granted, he'd said he'd come back, and she was almost sure he would, but that didn't help her feeling alone, that didn't stop the tears that brimmed in her eyes, threatening to spill forth in a never ending flow of pain and anger.
----------------
Spike walked the streets, seeing nothing really; instead, his thoughts were turned inward. There was a time, which now seemed so long ago, when this would not have been a problem, that he would not be so torn between things. However, he wasn't the same man, or demon, he was just months before. Granted, he wanted the chip out, wanted to be able to protect Willow, to give her that security she seemed to be craving from him. That attack had shown her how weak he was in his current state; it had shown her what he could not be while still leashed like a dog by the chip. It had shown him, as well, just how human and fragile Willow truly was. On the outside, she was hard as a rock, a constant support for him and her friends, but on the inside, she was soft, full of kindness and love and things easily bruised by the hard fist of life. And she was bruised now, badly. However, a part of him also wanted the chip out so he could be the vampire he had once been. He wanted to feel the life under his hands and know that he did not have to fear some electrical device.
A bottle of liquor ended up in Spike's hand and he didn't even realize it until it was halfway to his lips. He shrugged and took a drink letting the amber liquid burn its way through him. He walked and thought, drank and smoked, and still he couldn't make his way back to Willow's house ... their house. He stopped by the old factory where he had held her captive after kidnapping her that first time and laid down on the old rotted bed. He remembered the smell of her then, pure and innocent...the sweetest of mixtures and he had remembered imagining her blood to be the thickest of honeys. Sweet and thick as it slid down his throat. He had been close to turning her that night - closer than he had ever been since - with his fangs embedded into her neck. Spike could almost taste the elixir of her blood in his mouth, could almost feel it slide down his throat. He realized suddenly that he had bitten his own cheek and it was his own blood he tasted.
"Right mess you've got yourself in this time, mate," Spike said aloud to the emptiness of the factory. His voice came back to him in haunted echoes and he listened to it reverberate until it was nothing and silence ruled the night again.
He knew he had to do something, but what? That was what was eating at him. He should talk to her, but how? How do you tell the one you love to snap out of it, that unless she brought it all out she would bury herself in self-loathing and grief over something she could not control. This was just something Spike had never had any experience with. Even when Drusilla was beaten, battered, and bruised by Angelus she always asked for more, loved every minute of it. Spike had never needed to ask, or force, Drusilla to tell him about it, she would come back singing, or crying, and either was good for her.
"Bugger it all," Spike said, ignoring the echoes of his voice, and got up off the bed. He stumbled a bit, but righted himself and left the factory. He needed to get back to Willow, to talk to her, at least have her hear him out.
The thought that it might not be appreciated did not make it through Spike's inebriated mind. He didn't consider that he might hurt her somehow with his words, didn't think that he might say the wrong thing.
Finally, he made it back to the house, stumbling up the stairs to her room. He went in as quietly as he could, thinking her to be asleep. Spike found her cuddled into her blankets, a pillow clutched in her arms, squeezed tight. She looked small and pale in the dark, with only the moonlight illuminating her. It made her skin glow with a bluish light. She was beautiful, he knew this, had even seen her like this, but now...now it just made her look that much more fragile.
"Wish you would talk to me," Spike said quietly, sitting down next to the bed. "Tell me what's goin' on in that brain of yours. Doesn't make sense to me, the way you pretend it's not there. I know it's there, know it every time I go to touch you or kiss you or hold you. Every time you flinch at my touch.
"Hurts me too, Luv. Cuts like a knife, deep and wounding. But you won't let me help, won't let anyone help. Can't be good, the way you've been carryin' on. Unhealthy and what not.
"I just want you back, Willow. Just want to hold you again, know that you're mine. Bloody hell, I want to shag you into the soddin' mattress again. I want to claim you again.
"You don't get it though. You don't get that it hurts me to know I couldn't help you that day, hurts like you wouldn't believe, Luv. And I want this chip out more than anything, but I don't think you know what it means. I'm a killer, Red. I think you've forgotten that, what it means, what it entails. Think you don't remember. I'll kill them, Pet, make them pay for what they did to you. Death isn't enough payback, but it'll bloody well have to do.
"Went back to the factory, remembered tastin' your blood, and remembered promisin' myself I'd get more. Knew back then who and what you were, what you were capable of. Strong, fierce, loving...and mine. Been mine since I slid my fangs into your skin, since I decided you were what I wanted.
"Don't want to lose you, Willow. Can't lose you. But you have to know what I am, what I can do," Spike finished. Tears in his eyes and he stood up quickly, swaying a bit and walked quietly out of the room.
Willow held back her sobs through it all until she heard him descending the stairs, and then she let them go. Just hearing the pain in his voice, let alone the words, was more than enough to know she was hurting him. Not intentionally, but she was still causing him pain. Willow hated that she had was doing that, hated what she had become because of those...people...who had raped her.
Raped her. They'd done more than that. They'd violated her, abused her, bruised her, and scarred her for life. Spike was right about death not being enough, and Willow wanted more than just their deaths, she wanted them to suffer as she'd been doing for the last few months. She wanted them to have nightmares about their torture, dreams that were as real as the actual event. She wanted them to pay.
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Willow had been up all night watching as Spike slept, passed out, on the floor next to her bed. However, he'd finally told her what he'd been thinking, what had been bothering him. She realized after he'd told her, just how much she had cut herself off from everything – from him, from her friends, from her feelings. It hadn't been intentional, but it'd done damage nonetheless. She wasn't sure if she could climb back out from the hole she'd dug. What was worse was she wasn't sure she wanted to. Being guarded had its benefits. You didn't have to worry about being hurt anymore because you'd never let anyone close enough to do that again. However, there were more downsides to it than benefits. But even though Willow knew them, she still didn't know where to find the ladder out of her personal hell, or even if she wanted to find it.
So many things had run through her mind during the wee hours of the morning. She'd seen red, seen the blood of her attackers, and felt a sort of joy at the thought of them being harmed like that, killed like that. She imagined so many ways for them to die. At the same time, it scared her, that she could think like that and feel no remorse. Yet why should she? They didn't feel remorse for what they'd done to her or to Spike. She was sure of it.
Carefully, Willow got out of bed, making sure not to wake Spike. She had a few phone calls to make. She hoped that Kyna would be awake soon.
-----------------------
She'd cleaned, eaten, and printed up everything needed for the spell. Something inside of Willow hardened. It was nothing she could or would recognize, but it happened nonetheless. It was like an internal and external shell, something made of stone, not easily broken. Grabbing the phone, she dialed Giles' number.
“Hello?”
“Hi Giles, is Kyna awake?”
“Willow, why, yes, she is,” Giles said. “Is everything alright?”
“It's fine, Giles, I just need to talk to Kyna,” Willow said. Silently she wished Giles wouldn't worry so much. She knew he cared, but sometimes it got in the way of what she wanted to accomplish…like now.
“Yes, just one moment,” Giles said. He set down the phone and went for Kyna, letting her know Willow was on the phone.
"Good morning, Willow," Kyna said brightly into the phone. It was mid-afternoon, London time, and she'd been awake for hours. Her bustling around his kitchen making tea had awakened poor Giles, but he hadn't complained...much. They'd sat and talked, avoiding the subject of Willow until Kyna could stand it no more. He told her a few things, things she'd need to know about Spike's chip, the Initiative, and that Willow's attackers had been human.
"Morning," Willow said, forcing a smile when she felt anything but happy. It wasn't despair, or anything quite so depressing that she was feeling, but emptiness didn't allow for fluffy bunnies either. "I've got everything ready for the spell. When did you want to do it?"
"Oh, well that's very sweet of you, Willow," Kyna said, a bit surprised. She hadn't expected Willow to be so hard pressed to do the spell, not if Spike had talked to her. "Tonight, after sunset, would be best, don't you think?"
"Yes, that'd make sense," Willow said. She'd like it to happen right then, but she knew she couldn't force the magick, or Kyna. She needed Kyna to do the spell. "Enjoy your day on the Hellmouth."
"I will, and you too," Kyna said, hanging up the phone. She turned to Giles, a look of concern on her face.
"What is it?” Giles asked.
"Willow. Something's...different about her. I know I don't know her, Rupert, but she sounded different even from last night."
"Yes, well, that's to be expected, don't you think?” Giles asked reasonably. "We will be, in essence, letting a known killer loose from his cage. William the Bloody will once more be in our midst. I fear only the worst will come from this."
To say that Giles was apprehensive about the spell would have been an understatement. He would sooner shove a stake through the vampire's heart than remove the chip. However, had it not been he and Willow who had spoken up against Buffy staking Spike on sight once they'd learned of the chip?
"You will keep Willow outside with you, for most of the spell?” Giles asked.
"Yes, why?"
"Just taking a few precautions is all," Giles stated softly. While they were outside removing Spike's chip, Giles would be doing a spell of his own.
---------------------
Groaning, Spike tried to move but found his limbs stiff. Opening his eyes, it took him a minute to get his bearings. Had he fallen off the bed and onto the floor? No, he realized, he'd fallen asleep on the floor. The night's activities came rushing back to him as he tried to stand. Looking around, he saw the room was protected from the early light and Willow was gone.
He'd talked to her, that much he remembered, but had she been awake? Had she known what he was saying, understood it? Hell, at that point, even he didn't know what he had said. It was all a blur, his words, most of the night, and he cursed himself for drinking too much. However, who could blame him for doing so? The woman he loved, the human, his life, had shut him off…from everything. They barely had anything that would pass as conversation, and now with the removal of his chip nigh, Spike felt more then ever the rift that was between him and Willow, and could see another forming on the horizon.
Sighing, Spike went downstairs and into the kitchen to prepare some blood. He couldn't help but think that, soon he could have human blood with no pain, no searing electrical shocks to go through his brain…just the blood and the kill. Before he realized it, Spike had another mug going, having drunk the first one. The blood lust was coming back, not that it had ever truly left, but he'd blocked it, locked it away. Not now, though, no. Now he could hear Willow's heartbeat, a little fast, just down the hall in the living room. He could even hear the ones next door if he concentrated.
Nevertheless, Willow wasn't food to him. She was his, but not his to feed from. Already he could see what his demon had in mind for her. And not just his demon, him, Spike. It'd been there since the first time he'd seen her. The desire, almost need, to turn her, fully make her his.
Oh no, this wouldn't go well at all. No matter how much Spike tried, he couldn't take his thoughts away from blood and death. It was, after all, what he was made of, what he lived for, what he'd died to become.
Turning around, he saw Willow standing just inside the kitchen watching him. He wondered again just how much she had heard last night of his drunken babbling.
"Morning, Spike," Willow said softly. She watched him watch her, both of them a bit apprehensive, both a bit unsure.
"Mornin', Pet," Spike said. He downed his mug of blood in just a few gulps and it wasn't enough. Pig's blood would never be enough. He watched Willow walk slowly towards him and he mentally screamed at her to stop. The closer she came, the more clearly he could hear her blood rush through her veins, the louder her heartbeat sounded in his ears, and the more he wanted to have her again. Willow's hand came up to cup his cheek, warm against his cool skin. It just served to remind him of how many times he'd not been allowed in her bed, not been allowed to touch her, so he pulled away. He'd rather not have any contact, then the tease she was offering.
Willow jerked when Spike pulled away, hurt by the action. Tears threatened to fall, making her throat close with unwanted emotion. She fought against herself, against her feelings. Tears would do her no good and she wasn't sure, if she started, that she would ever be able to stop. Gathering what little resolve she had, she turned to Spike and smiled softly.
"I'm going to make breakfast, anything you want? More blood?” Willow asked, opening the refrigerator and pulling out eggs, butter, jam, and some milk, setting them all on the table. She looked over her shoulder at Spike who hadn't answered him.
"Oh, nothing, Pet. 'M fine," Spike said. He could have sworn he'd smelled salt on the air before she turned a bright smiling face to him.
Grabbing a bowl from the cupboard, Willow went through the motions of cooking, even though she really wasn't hungry. But, it was something to do, something to keep her eyes off Spike while she said what she had to say...if she could work up the nerve to say it.
"I talked to Kyna this morning, while you were still sleeping," Willow said, beating the eggs.
"Yeah? What'd the bird have to say?” Spike asked. He sat down at the island in the kitchen since it was obvious she wanted to talk. He, however, wasn't so sure he wanted to.
"Tonight she'll do the spell,” Willow said, a small smile gracing her lips. She had expected Spike to do something, laugh, throw something, whoop, and holler in pleasure, but the stony expression on his face confused her. She had worked all of this time for this end, for this spell, for him, and he didn't have anything to say?
“Well?” she asked expectantly.
“Well, what?”
“Say something.”
“Ta, Luv.”
“That's it? That's all you have to say?” Willow asked. “I worked hard to get this for you, for us, and you look like you could care less.”
Spike couldn't believe it. She was mad at him ? He hadn't asked for it, hadn't begged her to please, please find a way to remove his chip. No, that had been all her doing. Willow had been the one to go and search out the spell, then search out Kyna, and now she expected him to be pleased about it. The chip was the last thing he was thinking about right then. Willow was what he was concerned with, Willow was who he cared about and wanted to see get better.
Sighing, Spike closed his eyes and said, “Right now, Pet, that is the last thing I care about.”
Confused, Willow was unable to think of anything to say. She had thought for sure that he would want to be rid of the chip, to exact revenge on the humans that had done this to her and his rejection of her help to get this very result cut her deep. It felt like he had slapped her, shoved her gift in her face.
“How dare you,” Willow said softly, her voice quavering with emotion.
Finally, Spike opened his eyes to see Willow red with anger.
“No, Willow, how dare you,” Spike said. “Wasn't my bloody idea to get the chip removed. Was nothin' more then your pet project. First, I thought it was good, gave you somethin' else to put your mind on, took it off what had happened. But then, you slipped deeper and deeper until I couldn't touch you, physically or mentally. I'd gladly trade the soddin' chance to be free to just be able to touch you once - once - without havin' you flinch. But it seems even that's a bit much.”
“I'm sorry I couldn't stop them, Willow. Really, I am, but I'm not gonna sit ‘round here twiddlin' my thumbs, have this chip removed and be some bloody mercenary to do your biddin'. I'd rather rip their throats out an' deal with the mind-numbin' pain if it meant that you'd at least look at me again like you used to.”
“'M not so daft to think what happened didn't change you, ‘cause I know it did, but damnit! I can't even get near you without you shyin' away.”
“You either want me or want this chip out. I'll bleed them dry no matter what, but if you chose the spell, so help me I'll walk outta here. ‘M not gonna sit ‘round and wait for you to make up your mind ‘bout wantin' me. I can't bloody stand bein' so close and not havin' you.”
Spike walked away, leaving Willow in the wake of his speech. He didn't want to be there to see the hurt he knew he had just caused her flow across her face. The scent of tears followed him as he took the stairs two by two. Walking to the spare bedroom he slammed the door open, grabbed a blanket and walked back downstairs. He didn't glance at Willow as he made his way out the front door.
***********
Spike walked through the streets to the nearest sewer drain, tore off the lid, and jumped down. Placing the blanket near the hole for safekeeping, he began walking through the tunnels, straight toward Willy's. He needed a drink. He had just given Willow an ultimatum: if she chose him, he would not get the chip removed. There was something wrong with him he was sure. Why wouldn't he want the chip removed? It was a burden to him, a chain, and a leash. It kept him from being the vampire he was. It kept him from being able to keep Willow safe.
That was what had started the whole mess. Those humans, the vagabond bastards who had decided to rape an innocent girl and beat the shit out of a helpless vampire.
They deserved worse than death. They deserved to live an eternity in hell.
**********
Standing there, alone and shaking with misery in the empty kitchen, Willow slowly sank to the floor. She was numb from Spike's words, as if each syllable had drained all feeling from her. Her mind was still reeling, trying desperately to process everything he had said. It seemed that everything she had worked so hard for in the past few months was meaningless to Spike. Her devotion to finding him a cure meant nothing to him.
The pain his words had caused made her see red and she could find no meaning in them. Slowly, Willow took a few deep breaths, trying to stop the shaking and hold back the tears that threatened to fall. She didn't want to cry, saw no use for it. Willow didn't want to feel sorry for herself; she didn't want to feel the anguish that coursed through her right now.
Worst of all, there was no one she could turn to. Her friends wouldn't want to hear what she had to say, nor would they understand it. They would only see the pain Spike had caused her and be out for blood. She was alone. Alone without friend or lover.
**********
The alley behind Willy's was dark, shadows from taller surrounding buildings lending their shade, allowing Spike to climb out of the sewers and into their protection. Thus far, he had stopped himself from going back to Willow's several times to beg for her forgiveness. He reminded himself that he was a vampire and didn't beg without certain … persuasions, and even then, one would be lucky to get anything out of him. Love or no, Spike refused to beg, but standing there, he missed the feeling of home he found in Willow's house. Hell, he missed the feeling of Willow.
However, she had pushed him to this, made him yell … made him cry.
Steeling himself, Spike sauntered into Willy's, slipping on the Big Bad persona easily, feeling it wrap around him like a second skin. He ignored the angry stares and hushed whispers. Everyone there already knew he was chipped, neutered. They even knew that on occasion he helped the Slayer. But he wasn't here on business. However, a death or two might help him ease his frustration.
“Look, we don't want no troubles okay?” Willy said as soon as Spike sat at the bar.
“Not ‘ere for that, just want a drink,” Spike said. He heard the human release the breath he'd been holding and the clinking of glasses as he prepared a drink. Setting it on the table, Willy opened his mouth to make conversation, but closed it quickly at Spike's look.
If the vampire wanted to drown his sorrows in a glass, who was Willy to stop him? Besides, it was more money in his pocket … if Spike had the money.
Four glasses into the waning day, and Spike had asked for the bottle, laying money on the counter, knowing Willy was nervous about those things. Filling his cup again, Spike pounded it back, and looked into the mirror behind the bar.
He saw nothing there in that cracked and battered glass. No one sitting where he was; only the image of a tumbler tipping and the amber liquid inside disappearing into nothingness. He laughed, the sound short and mirthless, frightening Willy. He didn't care about that human. He only cared about Willow. It went beyond caring, however, went beyond love and devotion. She was a part of Spike now, deeply rooted into every fiber of his being, buried in there, imprinted on his dead cells.
Spike had thought he hurt badly enough when he was with her. He hurt more now that he was gone.
Still, he couldn't help wondering just why she cared about him. What was it about him that she liked, even loved? He'd practically forced himself on her in Ruby's. Was that why she was distant now? Was it because she could no longer distinguish him from her attackers? Human, vampire … did it all equal pain in her mind?
Looking over his shoulder, he saw it was still light out, though darkness would come soon.
“Spike,” a slithery, venomous voice said from behind him.
“'S my name, who's askin'?”
“Just what do you think you're doing here?”
Looking into the mirror, Spike saw the demon behind him, dark, almost black, scaly like a snake. Finally, glass in hand, he turned in his stool and appraised the demon, along with the four other vampires he hadn't seen in the mirror. He lifted his glass. He had been right to suppose the demon was snake-like, with eyes like slits, and a long slithering tongue that tasted the air.
“Drinkin'. Obviously,” Spike said, holding up his glass as if the demon needed further proof.
“We don't want your kind in here,” one of the vampires said, spitting on the floor next to Spike's boot. Lazily, he raised an eyebrow.
“An' yet, here I am, bold as bloody day.” He moved to set down his glass, not wanting to spill the precious amber liquid that lay inside … he still had sorrows to drown. There was going to be a fight though, he could feel it. And maybe that was what he needed. A fight. Something bloody and destructive, something that was the complete opposite of his feelings for Willow.
“You traitor!” the snake-like demon hissed. “You work with the Slayer, kill our kind. Well, your time is up.”
Spike saw the fist coming and moved to block it, grabbing hold of the thin arm and swinging it over his head before pulling it far up the demon's back. He cried out in pain, the vampires that had been with him waited, ready to pounce.
“Come on, now. Thought we were gonna fight,” Spike cajoled, egging them on. The thrill of the fight pumped through him, filling him with a power he hadn't felt since that fatal night weeks ago.
“Oh, we'll fight, you'll die.”
“Much better,” Spike said, and released the demon in his arms. He could tell they were the sort of blind followers that wouldn't make a move while someone had their leader at a disadvantage.
They all attacked at once, fists flying, the sound of skin on skin contact reverberating in their ears. Spike was thrilled, tasting his own blood on his lip where one of the vampires had made contact. Reaching out, he grabbed one of the vampires nearest him and twisted his head off, leaving dust to fall to the ground.
Throwing his head back, Spike roared. One after another they fell, until all that was left was the snake demon and Spike. They walked circles around each other both of them true predators, watching for the other to make a move, anticipating each move of their muscles and twitch of the eye.
“Your mates didn't fair too well,” Spike said, easing up on his stance. He figured anyone who kept those minions for company did so because they were horrid fighters on their own. Reaching behind him, though not taking his eyes off his opponent, Spike grabbed his drink and downed it, smirking at the demon.
“They were stupid, foolish, and young.” The demon eyed Spike with those slit-like eyes, his tongue poking out to scent the air, though no fear could be detected, only the deathly smell of the vampire and the dust on the air from his companions.
“At least two of which you have in common,” Spike quipped.
Without warning, Spike threw the glass at the demon as he shielded himself from it. Taking the open opportunity, Spike charged him, bending low, and picking him up with the force of his attack, landing with the demon on a table. It all crashed to the floor, Spike on top of the demon. Punches flew wildly as they rolled and grappled on the ground, knocking over tables and stools. Willy's voice could be heard yelling at them over the top of the scuffle and the onlookers putting in their two cents.
Then fangs, long and glistening in an impossibly wide mouth sank into Spike's left shoulder deeply, pumping venom furiously into him as he cried out in pain. He tried to raise himself up with his right arm, his left now hanging useless at his side, the fangs of the demon having severed the tendons and muscles there.
Flesh ripped, and another inhuman sound came from Spike, but finally he was free of the demon. His left hand useless, Spike reached with his right, finding a large, broken piece of the table, and thrust it into the open mouth of the demon. It hissed and sputtered, jerking a few times before lying still. Dead.
Standing slowly, Spike stumbled back into the bar and fell onto a stool, clutching his left arm with his right. He reached for the bottle of Jack that, miraculously, seemed to have survived the fight and dumped the remaining contents over the wound. Spike roared with the pain of it.
Somewhere in his shocked mind, Spike's only thoughts were of getting home. To Willow. She had helped him before. All memory of their earlier fight seemed to vanish as he stumbled out of the back of the bar into the growing darkness of the alley, unassisted by anyone inside the bar. It was all right, their assistance would have been unwanted anyway.
*********
Ever since Spike had left, Willow had felt lost. At first, she had been devastated, crying uncontrollably. Soon after, however, when the tears had dried and she could no longer sit on the floor, she became angry. Her indignation at being given an ultimatum manifested itself in the form of ferocious cleaning. Muttered curses issued forth as she scrubbed and scoured, washed and polished.
Finally, all of her energy spent, she sat in her living room, staring blankly at the television, not seeing anything that flickered across the screen.
Convincing herself that Spike didn't understand her reasoning was easy enough. Willow thought that maybe she hadn't explained herself adequately. Spike's immediate conclusion that she wanted his chip out purely so he could exact revenge for her was typical, she mused, especially for a vampire. But that hadn't been the case, or not entirely. Willow wasn't quite as naive as some liked to think, she knew that Spike wanted those men dead, so why then did the idea of her wanting them dead as well upset Spike to the point that he would leave her, make her choose between his health and sanity, and having him in her life?
The more Willow thought about it, the more she could see why he would have thought that this wasn't for her as well. Until recently, it hadn't been. Instead of focusing on them both, Willow had pushed all feeling, memories, and thoughts of the attack out of her mind, preferring to lose herself in something she could control.
Sighing, she picked up the phone and dialed a familiar number, hoping and praying that someone was there.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Giles? It's Willow.”
“Yes, Willow. How are you today?” He could hear a small waver in her voice and was immediately concerned. There was nothing he would not do to help Willow, if only she would let him.
“I'm fine,” Willow lied. Tears broke out, falling large and slow down her face. With the back of her hand, she wiped them off. “Actually, I'm not. Is Kyna there?”
“Yes, she is,” Giles said, hearing the tears in her voice. “Is there anything I can do?”
“I – I would actually prefer if Kyna-“
“Of course, I'll go retrieve her,” Giles said, cutting her off. He was fairly sure he knew what this was about and was both relieved and perturbed.
Willow waited on the line, chewing her bottom lip, hoping Kyna would hurry before she lost her nerve. As much as she loved Giles and appreciated his caring, she was sure she could not talk to him. It had been hard enough that night to have him see her in that state.
“Willow?” Kyna's voice traveled the distance over the line and Willow sighed audibly.
“Um, hi. I was … well, I was wondering if you could, sort of, come over? I – I need to talk.” It had been so hard for her to say that, to ask that, that Willow held her breath, afraid the woman would say no.
“Of course, dear, I'll be right over.”
They said their goodbye's and Willow hung up the phone. The drained feeling she had only moments ago was gone and she stood and began to pace, unsure of how she was going to talk to this virtual stranger. But she needed to talk to someone who would not look at her with pity. Willow, decidedly, had had enough of pity. What she wanted was understanding, she wanted guidance, help, anything to salvage at least part of the person she had been before the attack.
A soft knock sounded on the door and Willow practically ran to it and wrenched it open, startling Kyna.
“Oh, dear,” Kyna said, putting a hand over her heart. “You scared me.”
Looking ashamed, Willow muttered an apology and invited Kyna in.
“Thank you.” Stepping in, Willow motioned for her to have a seat and the older woman moved to the chair, leaving the couch for Willow.
“Would you like something to drink? I have some tea. Spike drinks tea and I like it now, since meeting Giles. Or something to eat? I could make some sandwiches or something. I think I have peanut butter and jelly, and bread.”
“Tea would be fine,” Kyna said, smiling softly at the nervous girl. She watched Willow walk off to the kitchen, waiting until she heard the running water before setting her purse on her lap, and reached in to bring out a crystal.
Softly, so as not to be heard, Kyna recited a small incantation and watched as the crystal glowed bright white for only a moment before returning to its normal milky-white state. Looking towards the kitchen, she made sure Willow was not looking, then stood and placed the crystal under the cushion of the couch, assuming Willow would sit on the end closest to her.
Walking back into the living room, Willow carried a tray, complete with tea set. She hadn't known her parents had even owned one until she had begun her cleaning earlier that day. It had been stuffed way back in one of the cupboards, dusty and unused. She smiled as she brought it out, proud that she could offer this woman something of home while she was so far away from it.
“Thank you very much, Willow,” Kyna said, taking a cup from the tray that Willow had set on the coffee table. She watched over her teacup as Willow sat on the end of the couch closest to her. “So, what would you like to talk about?”
“Oh.” She hadn't really thought about what she would say once the older woman had arrived, merely knew she needed to talk, and with Spike gone … she just needed company. Or so she told herself.
“It's alright, Willow,” Kyna said soothingly. She didn't want to rush the girl. Willow had been through more than enough, and any time they took to ease her into the subject would be well worth it. “Is William here?”
“Who?” Willow asked, confused.
“Spike, I guess you call him now.”
“Oh, no. He, uh, he left. For the day.” Willow's hands twisted in her lap, her tea forgotten on the table. Spike's seeming abandonment of her hurt. True, he hadn't been gone for long, and had implied he would be back, but his absence was keenly felt by the small redhead.
“During the day?” Kyna asked.
“Well, yeah,” Willow said, nervously playing with a piece of lint she had found on the couch. “He has something he needs to take care of and …,” trailing off, Willow looked up into Kyna's eyes, seeing caring and concern there. Taking a breath, she went on to tell the truth.
“We had a fight, actually.”
Letting this sink in, for them both, Kyna took a sip of her tea before setting it down. “I see. Would you mind if I asked what it was about?”
Afraid it would be too hard to discuss, Willow looked away and bit her lip, running Spike's words over and over again in her head. However, the searing pain that had hit her when they had first been spoken was dulled somewhat, and she looked back up.
“He said I have to choose between removing the chip and loosing him, or keeping the chip and losing him.” A small tear rolled down Willow's cheek and she absently wiped it away, her eyes glassy as she remembered the way he had looked, how hurt he appeared.
“Did you explain to him why you wanted the chip removed?” Ever patient, Kyna waited for Willow to answer, feeling keenly the anguish and longing that flowed through the small redhead on the couch. Being a part of the largest Coven in England lent Kyna a kind of knowledge she would otherwise not possess. A human and a vampire together was not an oddity. And even though William the Bloody had, at one time, killed one of their fold, she did not hold him in complete contempt, not after hearing what had happened. Being a witch meant that Kyna had to follow the laws of nature and fate. It was not her place to decide what would or would not happen to William, only to help the small girl on the couch in front of her. And if by chance it helped William, well, then that was the way it was meant to be, and Kyna could live with that.
“I did. I tried, at least, but I don't think he understood,” Willow replied. This was where her thoughts had been heading when she had called Kyna.
“Why do you want it out, Willow? And, if you don't mind, please do not go on about how wrong it is. I think it's fair to say we agree on that point.”
“But isn't that enough?” Willow asked. “I mean, why wouldn't he be happy about it? With the chip out, he can be himself, wouldn't have to worry about me. He'd know he could take care of me. I'm doing it for him. And for me. I need him.”
“Is it enough?” She knew the question would hurt the young woman, but she asked it so that Willow could look deeper; see what it was she couldn't see at that moment. Kyna could see it, but she would not tell Willow, the young witch had to come to the conclusion herself or it would mean nothing.
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