Chronologically Incorrect

Author: Donotmock

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~Part: 11~

Willow looked out the window and realised she was almost there. She could see a town-like area as they rolled over the hill, and just hoped they were near `The Big Barrel'. It was a popular, rather sophisticated pub and restaurant that Mickey had recommended. Although she had only come there to "save" Spike, she still needed a place to stay and food to eat. And her former boss had told her that the owner was a nice guy who would hire her, for her looks and for her experience.

Willow slipped off the carriage, thanked the driver, handed him several coins and bade him farewell as he trotted off into the horizon. Willow turned her eyes to the sunlight, squinting and shielding her face. It was around midday and surprisingly hot, especially in the dress that weighed more than her suitcase. She grunted as she began walking, her heels clicking steadily over the noise of the crowd.

"Excuse me," she said to a passing stranger, "But do you know where `The Big Barrel is?'"

He smiled good-naturedly, "Why? Looking for work?"

"What's it to you?" she snapped. She wasn't fooled by his attitude. Sure, he seemed nice, but even vampires could smile.

"I own it," he replied simply, his expression not changing.

"Oh, well then yes, I am," she answered, successfully fighting the blush that was working its way up her neck.

He was looking her up and down in that way she hated, so she cleared her throat, "So, can you hire me?"

"Can you work nights?" he asked, ignoring her attempt to catch his attention.

"Yes," she was pissed at him, but she really did need the work and wasn't going to risk this chance because of her stubborn pride.

"Can you change your attitude?" he asked suddenly, surprising her.

She blinked, then said haughtily, "No."

He grinned, "Good. Start tonight."

"Wait," she said, side-stepping in front of him, "Do you have a room to spare?"

"No. Does that bother you?"

"Yes," she answered truthfully.

"Then I do. You'll be expected to work from six till twelve, breaks if you can find the time, at ten shillings a night…"

"Fifteen," Willow corrected, and his smile widened.

"Twelve, three shillings for the room," he bargained.

"Done," she smiled, holding out her hand for him to shake. Willow could get used to this man as her boss. He was way better looking than Mickey, although he was still around the same age, judging by the way that his face creased when he talked. But he seemed a nice enough guy, although she sensed he wouldn't be as lenient with her as Mickey was.

He shook it, then added, "I'll see you tonight Miss…?"

"Bloodeneen," she supplied, "Willow Bloodeneen."

He looked as if he were pondering for a moment, "Bloodeneen," he echoed, "I like it. It suits you."

"So I've been told," she said grimly. He raised his eyebrows in a silent question, but she just shook her head, so he moved on.

"My name is Thomas."

"Thomas who?" she mimicked, though not cruelly.

"Thomas Dick."

"Dick." She grinned evilly, "I like it. It suits you."

*~*~*~*~*~*

Willow was already getting into her new job. There were a few more snobs here than there were in Birmingham, but most were well spoken, educated, well-dressed fellows who were delighted at a little mental stimulation from a member of the opposite sex.

"So, the recent murders, what do you think, Willow? A madman?" Cyril Hahn asked, sipping his sherry thoughtfully.

"Oh, you shouldn't concern yourselves with those types of things…just try not to make anyone unhappy with you."

"Too true," he agreed, "Could I have another? I'm expecting a lady friend to drop by…a little strange, but definitely some delicious eye- candy!"

Willow laughed at the reference, and went to fill out his order. She especially liked it when her boss, Thomas, asked her to read him poetry. He would respond so enthusiastically to it that she was reminded strongly of William, and she would be happy for a little while. She barely remembered what her friends, even Tara, looked like. It was like she was looking through a bottle of castor oil at them; knowing that they're there but barely seeing them.

"Willow!" her boss shouted, gesturing to her frantically. He had obviously taken up that offer to drink with his friends, she thought wryly, handing Cyril his drink with a nod and making her way over to Thomas' table.

"Willow!" he repeated, "What's that poem? Do that poem…"

She rolled her eyes, "Oh, bugger off, I'm not going to let you parade me in front of your friends like some kind of oddity!"

They always went through this. He would brag to his friends about her, make her out to be some kind of live-in lover of his. She would then have to set them all straight, and send an apologetic Thomas to bed with a sore ear. They put up with each other though, she entertained him and he paid her well.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I think Phil is trying to get my attention," she said, referring to the cook, who was nowhere in sight. She pushed open the swing door to the kitchen, sighing in relief as she set down the empty tray. Willow missed her old tavern; it was so much easier to talk to chauvinistic cretins than these strange eccentrics!

"Heya, Willy…'urry up! Gotta table wi' yer name on it…'bout free guys, pretty snobbish lookin.'"

Willow groaned, "First of all, don't call me that. Second of all, how snobbish? On a scale of ten to one…ten being `my god, get that pole outta my arse!'"

Phil chuckled, "I'm thinkin'…eight?"

She groaned again, "Great, why can't Robbie do it?"

He tutted, "Rob's in bed with the flu, remember?"

"Am I getting paid extra?"

He winked, "Depends on what ya do for `em."

"You're a sick man, Phil."

"Ah know, an' ya love it!"

She rolled her eyes and grabbed the two plates from his outstretched hands, using her elbows to shove her way out of the cramped kitchen. She scanned the room, grimacing slightly as her eyes ran over Thomas' table, and all of them collapsed in raucous laughter. Her eyes then fell on a table with three stiff looking gents, well, two of them were anyway, the others covered the third and all she could see was a mop of curly brown hair.

"Only two of you eating?" she asked politely, studying the food to determine what it was, "I have one braised chicken with fennel sauce and a fillet mignon, extra onions, no gravy, extra…"

"Willow?"

It was lucky she had put down the plates before she looked up, because she had no doubt in her mind they would already be shattered all over the floor.

"William?" she whispered, fully aware of how pale her face was.

He'd changed. Gone was the innocent, child-like William she once knew and in his place was a sullen…man. Did he stop washing when she left?' she wondered scornfully, secretly liking his rugged appearance. His bright eyes were dark as they studied her. She wished she had the power to read him like she used to, but he was different.

She'd changed. She looked tougher, as if the polluted English air had hardened her. Her face was a little grubby and her nails were blunt, her fingers covered in calluses. She was also thinner, with more muscles, but her curves had stayed and were a lot more obvious than they used to be, especially in her bar maid's dress.

"You work as a waitress?" he asked. He didn't mean to, and somehow he knew it would make her angry, but he couldn't help the sympathy that crept into his voice. He could feel guilt choking him, like bile in his throat that left him with a bitter aftertaste.

She snapped out of her trance and her eyes narrowed. The redhead clutched the tray to her side and stuck out her chest proudly. "Don't take that tone with me, William, waitressing is a perfectly respectable profession!"

"I'll say," Gordon Brodereck breathed, eyeing the chest she so nobly held high. She didn't shrink away or blush as he thought she would do, but her mouth twisted in an amused sneer.

"As if," she scoffed, disregarding the handsome aristocrat immediately. "So, what's up? Come to get me fired?"

She knew it was unreasonable, but she just held so much emotion for this one man. And seeing him again was enough to either make her want to cry, laugh, or throw up, and she was literally swallowing the urge to do all of them.

He blinked, "N-No, I…"

She snorted in a mocking tone, "Same old William. Still writing poetry?"

"Yes as a matter of fact," he glowered, "I'm writing a new piece about a girl who breaks her friend's trust by fornicating with his father…"

She laughed coldly, "You're pathetic. Just another sheep in the collective, especially if you believe that trash your dear old mummy spewed into your ear." She cleaned her hands in the air in an angry gesture, "Go back to live with the dinosaurs, you pig!" she finished, spitting in the middle of Gordon's chicken.

"Hey…" Gordon protested feebly.

"Oh, do sod off, you dirty little git!" she snapped, storming off into the kitchen.

"God!" Harry said indignantly, his eyes following angry redhead as she shoved her way into the other room.

"I know," William said hoarsely, his eyes clouded, "She is magnificent."

The others nodded, and William felt a tightening in his stomach. `I love her,' he admitted to himself, thinking of the beautiful poet with a fond anger.

`I love him,' Willow realised, leaning on a wall `Bastard! It's all his fault!'

*~*~*~*~*~*

"Look at them, daddy, aren't they pretty?" Drusilla cooed, moving her fingers from side to side over her swollen clitoris as she observed the squabbling humans hungrily.

"I don't know about the feller, but I'd love to fuck that redhead. She's a juicy bit, isn't she?"

"Don't make love to her! She's not yours, she's my baby's!" Drusilla protested, digging little cuts in her thighs with her pointed nails.

He looked at her disapprovingly, "Dru, stop gropin' yerself in the middle of the pub. And who said anything about making love to her? I'm talkin' about fucking her!"

"No! Wrong, wrong, wrong…" she clutched her head and shook, muttering `wrong' over and over again. Pub goers watched the insane woman in interest. That is, until Angelus fixed them with an angry stare, his eyes flashing gold.

"Aw, stop yer crazy ramblings, Dru, I won't lay a finger on her," he said soothingly, stroking her head. She looked up and fixed him with a happy grin, but sadly it was through her vampire face. "For hell's sake, Dru, put away your face!" he snarled, feeling his own coming near the surface.

She whimpered and hid it quickly, looking down at her lap. A few seconds later, she looked back up, her face delighted, as if she had just woken up with a two-month old baby under her nostrils, "I can't wait for the hour, my womb will open and out pops William. And we will dance with Willow's blood…"

"How did you find out her name?" Angelus asked sharply, and she giggled.

"The stars," she whispered, as if it was some huge conspiracy, "She is also like hands that go roooound, but she is backwards. The numbers aren't happy with her, they're all wonky and…"

He tuned out as she continued babbling to watch the redhead, and her beautiful bust, as she walked angrily away from his future grandchilde. Why didn't they just take her? She was a lot prettier than William, and hell, that arse…

"Why do you want him?" He jerked his thumb roughly in the direction of William, "I mean, I know he's strong, smart, good-looking, innocent…"

"Oh no," she said, clapping her hands, "Red will make innocentless!"

"Then why don't we eat her?" Angelus complained, hating that he wasn't in control.

She smiled dreamily, "Because, daddy dearest, she will send him to us. She'll bring my baby home."

~Part: 12~

Willow tried to get a better look at the dark, evil, and scarily familiar people who sat in the corner. She wanted to take the casual approach and ask them if they wanted anything, allowing her to get a better look at their faces. But she didn't have the gall to go back out there after her `little' tiff with William until somebody really needed something, and by that time the couple was gone.

"Ah, Willow," Thomas said, holding a hand to his head, "Can I have a glass of water? I don't feel like a headache in the morning."

"Sure," she replied, happy with the distraction.

He pressed the cool water to his dry lips and finished the whole glass in three gulps, "Gaaah," he sighed, smacking his lips, "That's better. Can I have a poem?"

She rolled her eyes, "Fine. What one would you like?"

"My Helen!" he said eagerly, leaning forwards.

She looked quickly to William to find him looking at them curiously. He had heard the man at the bar request a poem and leaned in to hear a little better. She cleared her throat and recited the piece that was achingly familiar to her,

"C—Helen, thy beauty is to me, Like those Nicean barks of yore, That gently, over a perfumed sea, The weary, wayworn wanderer bore, To his own native shore. On desperate seas long wont to roam, Thy hyacinth hair, thy classic face, Thy Naiad airs have brought me home, To the glory that was Greece, And the grandeur that was Rome. Lo! In yon brilliant window-niche, How statue-like I see thee stand the agate lamp within thy hand! Ah, Psyche, from the regions, which are Holy Land."

The still partly intoxicated Thomas clapped in glee as Willow's sneaky gaze slid to William, who was looking very angry and pale in his seat. She grinned in satisfaction, `That'll teach that smarmy git to be so…lovable!' she thought. Unexpectedly, Thomas grabbed her from over the counter. She yelped in surprise but out of the corner of her eye she saw William rise, so she played along.

"Hey, get off me!" She was actually quite serious, he never really went this far before, usually it was just playful touching. "No hands!"

"Aw come on, Willow, be a sport!" he complained, pulling her all the way over the counter so he could hold her fully against his body. She felt something poking in her back and froze, getting flashbacks of William's dad touching her…kissing her…

"Get off!" she squeaked in distress, as all the self-defence moves vanished from her mind. He just laughed harder and began groping her more. She looked around wildly, the men just cheered while the women kept politely to themselves. "I-I'm not kidding, stop it!"

She was nearing hysterics, he could tell. He saw the familiar nervous darting of her eyes and the quivering of her body. And suddenly, she was Willow again.

"Hey, she said get off, are you deaf?!" William demanded, causing a sudden silence to fall over the crowd, "Let her go," he said, more quietly.

The drunken man just sneered at him, "Mind your own business, will you?"

Thomas moved his head down to kiss her. Her eyes widened in fear, but a hand stopped him, and he faced William again, annoyance and anger in his eyes.

"Listen, you disgusting piece of filth, she is my business." With that, he sent a hard right hook straight into the man's jaw. He sailed back, almost taking Willow with him, were it not for William grabbing her and holding her securely around the waist.

Without waiting for an awkward aftermath, he dragged a still stunned Willow outside into the night. Shaking her head, she struggled out of his grip.

"What are you doing?" she hissed, "I could have handled that myself!"

He gave an exaggerated cough, "Oh, I'm dreadfully sorry; I was just thrown off by your whole `frozen in fear' act."

"Shut up!" she screamed, pounding her fists into him, "Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

He didn't understand. He didn't know how helpless it to have a man hurt you when you couldn't do anything about it. He couldn't possibly comprehend the fear of knowing that no matter how hard you tried, you'd always be the weaker sex. What she had learned while being in the past, without the guns, without the knives, without the stakes to confuse everything, was that she was still a little girl, and that didn't mean shit to anyone.

"Shut up!" she moaned, tears streaming freely down her cheeks, "You don't get it…I was so helpless, I couldn't have fought him…I was scared…and it's all your fault!"

He was taken aback by this show of emotions. She looked so cold in the tavern, but in the night outside the protective shield of the bright lights, she was still Willow, still the little girl he knocked unconscious on the first day they met.

"My fault?"

"Yes!" she shouted, covering her face, "First your father tried to rape me and you fucked it up by taking away the only good thing I had since I came here!" Her voice was muffled, but he heard what she said.

"What?" he asked.

She looked at him, her tear-streaked face wet and shining, "You."

He froze, and she made an exasperated noise. "Me?"

"Yes you, with your-your sweetness, and your kindness, and the way you always listened to me…you're the first man who's ever…not had an ulterior motive, but was just content being with me…god, why do you think I became a lesbian?"

He blinked, "A what?"

"It doesn't matter. I wanted you to stick with me, I wanted you to write more poetry with me, and I wanted to go with the ball you…"

He pulled her to him, his gaze searching. Her eyes were wide, like coals that shone reflecting strength, but also a vulnerability that was heart-breaking. He wasn't thinking, he was doing, he was feeling…

She swayed closer to him, hugging him as she did that day by the frozen river. Only now she was giving him what he had wanted and what she had wanted so badly too. His tongue traced the outline of her lips, causing the highly sensitive flesh to tingle. He was so warm, so warm…god, how she missed his warmth, she wanted more. Her arms slid around his neck and she opened her mouth wider, urging him to deepen the kiss. He did, though tentatively, but she relished the fulfilment it gave her.

He dared not close his eyes, lest she disappear. But when her tongue met his, he sighed and let his lids drift shut, content that she was here and they were really doing this. He marvelled at how soft she still was as he wrapped his arms about her waist and pulled her closer to him. His hands massaged unconscious circles over her lower back and she shivered, pressing closer to his angular body.

Her tongue flicked over the roof of his mouth and he made a small noise at the back of his throat, but this soon became a tight pressure and he realised he'd been so caught up, he'd forgotten to breathe.  He broke away, pressing his forehead to hers. Willow shivered again at the loss of contact, while she gasped in some much- needed air. They hugged each other closely, as Willow's fingers buried themselves deep into his hair. He had been itching to do the same, and soon was running his fingers across the base of her neck before brushing them over her sensitive scalp.

"Your hair," he murmured, "so like flames, I can imagine burning slowly in…"

She fisted his hair and brought his lips back to hers, letting their tongues rejoin in eager exploration, leaving no part of the other's mouth untouched. Shudders ran down her spine as he massaged her lower back, his nails occasionally scratching lightly over the skin. Soon, way too soon, they were out of breath again, but this time he followed his instincts and his head dipped to place a soft kiss below her chin. She made a sharp, breathy noise encouraging William, and also making his pants seem a little too tight.

He continued placing butterfly-light kiss along her neck, occasionally letting his tongue dart out or grazing with his teeth.

"You. Taste. So. Good." He whispered between kisses, the wispiness of lips giving her goosebumps.

"Uh, Sir?"

His head flew up and he saw the carriage driver, looking a little embarrassed. William was too happy to feel that way himself, and he smiled. He grabbed Willow's hand and led her towards the carriage, but only after receiving an approving nod. He guided her up the short steps and into the pitch-blackness, before climbing in himself. She let him sit and then slipped onto his lap, facing him.

Willow kissed his closed lids and then his nose, which she bit gently. His hands came out of nowhere to cup her face. But he did not pull her in to kiss him, he just touched. His fingers brushed over her nose and lips, memorising each detail in his mind's eye. They did not notice that the carriage had started moving as the pads of his fingers drifted over her eyes.

William let his lips brush over hers once again, gripping her gently by the back of the neck, holding her to him. But she wasn't going anywhere. Their kiss had deepened, growing more and more passionate with every languid ministration, every whispered word, and every breathless pant. She felt a hardness beneath her, and without thought, she pressed down on it with her firm backside.

William groaned, breaking away from her mouth. He clutched at her ribcage and then buried his face in the crook of her neck. She gasped and moaned as he licked gently then bit gluttonously. Willow let her head fall to the side, exposing the long white column to him fully. He nibbled softly on her ear lobe, and then kissed the sensitive patch behind her ear. She keened as he worked his way over her third favourite erogenous zone. Suddenly, his hands flew up to her breasts and squeezed, gliding his thumbs over her nipples. They tightened and she gave a loud gasp, arching into him.

He moved back, his barely visible eyes scared, "I-I-I'm sorry, I didn't…"

She covered her mouth with his again, and moved away just enough so their lips still touched, just barely. "I gave myself to him, and took himself for pay. The solemn contract of a life was ratified this way," she recited. Her voice was slightly lispy, but they grinned simultaneously. William began massaging her breasts again, but not before their deep kissing was resumed with desperation.

The carriage jolted to a stop outside the Whitam manor, and Willow leapt off of William. Then, like a pair of giggling adolescents, they sprung out of the carriage, hand-in-hand. Willow stumbled over her dress a few times, and William was quick to rectify this by swooping her up into his arms as he ran wildly to his bedroom, both laughing happily and sneaking quick kisses that made William's knees sag.

They reached his room and Willow was quick to close the door behind her. She turned to find William staring at her, smiling softly. The mood was once again sultry and William moved forward, his hands moving to her corset, which thankfully fastened in the front, but he paused.

"May I?" he asked, studying her face.

Willow met his gaze, "For tonight, this," she gestured to her body, "is yours. And tomorrow, and more…if you'll let me."

She was so sure of her words it scared her, but she knew they were true. William seemed to know as well. He looked embarrassed, happy, confused, but most of all aroused by the words uttered from the woman who had not left his thoughts since he met her. "Let you? Of course I'll bloody let you, you silly woman!"

He picked her up and swung her around, amused by her squeal of delight, and then he laid her flat on the bed. He straddled her, although with some care, and his trembling fingers moved to the laces at the front of her dress. Willow watched as his relaxed face hardened, and she looked down to the object of his distress, the pendant.

"William…I didn't want you to…"

He pressed a finger to her lips, "I know…do not think about it, let me just be here with you."

She was touched by his caring innocence. She raised one hand to cup his face, her thumb stroking his cheekbone. He responded to this by undoing her laces with more self-assurance. Then, he kissed her palm, "They name thee before me, A knell to mine ear; A shudder comes over me... Why art thou so dear?"

He undressed her with a gentleness and care that brought tears to her eyes, and soon he was tugging off the last of her clothing. He sat over her, still fully clothed. She was panting and brilliantly flushed, but her eyes were so intense he had to fight not to look away. William could tell she was growing uncomfortable from his lustful stare, so he smiled softly and leaned forward to take her mouth in a slow kiss. While his mouth was busy with hers, he allowed his hands to wander over her bare flesh, wincing as he came in contact with the cold metal. How could skin be so soft? He wondered, pinching her nipple gently.

Willow parted her legs so William lay between them, his pelvis resting against the wet cradle of her thighs that was slowly growing wetter. He pulled back, only to place a moist kiss on her collarbone, and then moved slowly in the direction of her solar plexus. He saw the metallic glimmer in the darkness, wanting so much to tear the possessive trademark from her beautiful body. She raised her hips, making him groan into the skin of her left breast, as she moaned before crying out as his lips closed over her tight nipple. Her breathing came out sharper, and she entwined her fingers into his hair, pulling him closer as he moved to her right breast.

She made a noise of protest when his mouth left her soft mounds, but that soon became a sigh as he began to kiss downwards. He placed feather-light kisses along the flat plain of her stomach, relishing in the sweet taste of her, "When as in silks my Willow goes, then, then, methinks, how sweetly flows, the liquefaction of her clothes…Or lack thereof!" he added, smiling into her skin.

"William!" she breathed, "I never new you were such a-ah!"

He placed an open-mouthed kiss on her wet folds, pushing his tongue into the opening and tasting her for the first time. He moaned at the sweetness and began lick hungrily, forcing his tongue in deeper and letting more pour onto his face. She screamed a little and the vibrations echoed through her channel, making her twitch. His nose nuzzled the tiny bundle of nerves and she laughed and screamed at the same time.

"Oh, his mouth, l-l-like the waves breaking at the shore" Every second word was a moan, "To be without thee, thy mouth, a pain forevermore!" the last part was another yell and she began to shake.

Willow dragged him to her, their mouths colliding hungrily. She tasted herself on him, musky and sweet. She wrapped her legs around his waist and pushed up into his erection, raising a guttural moan from his throat that reverberated through her, down to her toes. Her fingers worked frantically with the buttons of his jacket and waistcoat, and although she fumbled clumsily, she managed to get each black button undone. He rose to help her remove the garments and she tossed them carelessly to the side.

Having no patience with the tiny white buttons of his dress shirt, she untucked it from his pants and promptly tore it down the front. He was far from complaining as he threw the shirt aside, now revelling in the glorious feeling of her nails combing down his chest. She watched in wonder as the muscles stirred beneath her fingertips. He didn't really look muscular with his clothes on, but with his shirt off he was positively sinful.

Her hands drifted to his belly, and she began to thoughtfully undo his pants. He supported himself up on his arms and looked at her seriously, "Are you having doubts?"

She smiled wickedly, "Just wondering if you're as big as I imagined."

"Big as…oh." He blushed and she almost laughed. Now he blushes? He was too cute.

She finished undoing his pants with relative ease, which was a surprise because her hands were shaking like mad. He tugged them down the rest of the way, and she stared, and stared, and stared. `My god, Cecily is an idiot!' she thought, biting her lip. She held his erection in her firm grip and watched in awe as his face contorted beautifully in pleasure.

"Willow, oh god, Willow…" he moaned, moving against her hand as she began to stroke him, but then stopped quickly, "No, Willow, I want…"

"Me too," she whispered, using her hand to guide him to her wet heat. She splayed her legs open and he thrust inside. The redhead gasped in pain, trying hard to accommodate his length, while William just stared at her in shock. "Have you ever…" she asked, breathless and shaking.

He shook his head, "No…have you?"

"Yes…once." She blushed.

"It feels…nice," he said slowly, and Willow smiled before tightening her inner core around him. His eyes closed in that rapturous expression she loved and he instinctively moved out, and thrust into her again, a little deeper than before. She cried out while he moaned deeply. He dipped his head in to kiss her and she met it with enthusiasm, as they both began to rock against each other.

Her heels dug into his lower back as she raised her hips to meet him. He was a little unsteady at first, but they managed to slip into a smooth rhythm that had them alternatively gasping and moaning in unison.

"William," she sighed, "Touch me…here." Willow guided his hand to her swollen clitoris, and he began to massage it gently. She threw her head back and screamed, moving more desperately against him. He was excited and encouraged by this, as his head dipped lower to the pendant that had disgusted him so, and licked at the sensitive flesh around it.

"Willow, you're so…gnugh, ohhhh…" He'd forgotten he was speaking as electricity started to build up in his stomach and he moved faster, "I don't know…"

"Don't worry," she managed, feeling like she was on fire, "Go with it… relax…"

"I…" his head shot up suddenly and he yelled out something similar to Willow's name as all his sexual tension drained from him in the most intense way. `Nothing could be better than this,' he thought, as he felt her quake below him.

His sudden orgasm made him pinch Willow's clitoris hard and she rose off the bed as the friction made her whole body go hot and tingly. Then, she felt herself explode in a shower of inky blackness and flashing lights.

"Look at me!" she demanded as they were climaxing, and he obliged. The simple gesture made them both cry out as they rode out their orgasms. They continued to look deep into each other's eyes as their movements stilled, gasping for air with him still buried deep inside her.

"That was…I…love you Willow," he said raggedly, burying his head in her neck.

"I love you too…so much." She hugged him tight, and he returned it.

"Say it again," he whispered pleadingly.

Willow grinned, "I…love…you!"

He laughed and rolled off her, not letting go but holding her close to his naked body. There were tears reflected in his eyes, but she pretended not to notice.

"G'night Will," she yawned, cuddling up close to him.

He just smiled, and answered with; "The shepherd swains shall dance and sing, for thy delight each May morning; if these delights thy mind may move, then live with me and be my love."

Her answer was her quiet breath, and William smiled softly, drifting into a dreamless sleep.

~Part: 13~

Willow woke up with a definite `what the hell' vibe. She was warm for one thing, she wasn't in a tiny, cluttered room and she appeared to be attached to a very hard male body. Looking up she saw William's chiselled face in a very relaxed state, wearing a small, contented smile. After getting over the initial shock and her lack of recollection, she calmed and continued to study him.

God, he was so…beautiful. How had she never noticed it before? She wanted desperately to reach out and stroke that impossibly defined cheekbone, but she was determined not to awaken him. He was so cute. His hair was scruffy and sticking out in odd directions, and he opened his mouth every few seconds to take in a wheezing breath. Remembering what that mouth had been doing the night before made her shiver and she moved closer to him. Willow felt him stir, and she couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. She could have watched him like that forever.

His eyes fluttered open in an almost feminine way, and he also looked a little confused with his surroundings. His eyes then drifted to her and he jumped a little.

"Willow," he yawned, "G'mornin'."

"Good morning," she whispered, "Sleep well?"

He grinned, "No, actually. It was strange; I kept hearing this loud `Gnnnughhhhhh!' right in my ear."

She opened her mouth indignantly and then raised herself up a little to slap him on the shoulder, "I do not snore!"

He simply laughed and returned her hit, but with a lot less power behind it, over her head. William was actually shocked at how the whole thing had not been some erotic dream his mind had come up with. But, looking at her now, her hair ruffled sexily and a playful laugh on her sensuous lips, he was ashamed of himself for even comparing Dream Willow to the real Willow who was now trying to hit him back.

"Say it. Say I don't snore!" she demanded, trying to hit him back, but finding he was too fast for her.

"Fine, fine. You don't snore…you sure do drool a lot though!"

She lunged at him, landing on his torso with a breathless `oof.' She straddled his stomach and gave a triumphant smile, "Aha! Now you have no choice but to surrender to my…"

As fast as lightening, he grabbed both her arms and secured them behind her back, making her upper body fall against his as they bashed noses.

"Ow!" they both moaned, but still enjoying the feeling of their bare skins touching. Simultaneously, they moved in to kiss softly, closing their eyes and surrendering completely. She sighed softly and he let go of her hands, which she then used to massage his chest. They both groaned and Willow began moving his cock in and out of the juncture of her thighs. His head slammed into the pillow and Willow leaned over to suckle on his neck…just as Marie trotted in with a tray of breakfast.

"William, it's time for…Oh my goodness!" She dropped the tray with a smash and the noise startled the couple out of their incriminating position.

Willow let out a short scream and rolled off William, taking the blanket with her as to cover herself. Sadly, this left William very exposed and he yelped, snatching the cover off Willow and covering himself. She screamed again and grabbed it, but William held on tight as they both tried to pull it off the other person until William did a particularly strong tug and pulled Willow onto him with yet another scream, her weight overbalancing him, sending them both sprawling to the floor behind the bed and out of Marie's sight.

"I-I'll j-just g-go, I um…" The maid left quickly, and the couple burst out laughing. They stood up, neither conscious of their nakedness until the Marie came back in with a monster grin on her face. They both shrieked and ducked back down.

"Oh, Willow! I'm so glad you're back! I knew William would come to his senses…"

"Marie!" they shouted, both flushed bright red and crouching uncomfortably on the hard wooden floor.

"…I'm just so glad you've gotten together. You really make a great couple! I told you both before, but no…"

"Marie," Willow said calmly, "Please get out, we'll talk about this when William and I are, um, a little less…" she paused, "Naked?"

"Oh, of course! I'll have breakfast ready for you when you come down!" Marie said happily, skipping out of the room and completely ignoring the smashed crockery and ruined food on her way out. They stood up, hugged each other and collapsed on the bed laughing hysterically.

"Oh god!" Willow giggled, "I thought she'd never leave!"

"Who'd blame her, you have a nice body," he said smugly, leering at her body below him.

"Why, Mr. Whitam, I do believe I have rubbed off on you!" she teased, gliding her fingernails over his chest.

"In more ways than one," he said in a smooth voice, letting his hand cup her medium-sized breast and pinch the nipple. She moaned, but tried half-heartedly to fight him off.

"S-Stop," she gasped, "B-Breakfast!"

"You're my breakfast," he said, biting her breast gently then sucking hard. She raised her pelvis against his and he slipped inside of her. She cried out in shock, but soon they were rocking against each other, their heads thrown back in ecstasy.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Willow fought to keep awake as she read, determined to stay up later than six in the evening. But she had to grin at the reasons for her fatigue. William had confided to Willow once that all his life he had wanted to be touched, and it seemed he was making up for years without touch all at once. Whenever they were together he couldn't seem to keep his hands off her, and admittedly she couldn't either. She was always playing with his hair, straightening his clothes, or just stroking his back or leg or…other things.

"You really are beginning to sicken me!" Marie had exclaimed one time, but Willow noticed the maid had trouble wiping the happy grin off her face while she said it.

Willow frowned when the thought of going home crossed her mind. She didn't want to leave, but she knew she couldn't stay. She wanted to take him with her, but she knew that was impossible also. Right now though, all she wanted to do was be honest with him, to tell William anything and everything, but she knew she couldn't do that either.

As the day for his turning grew closer, her denial of the inevitable weakened. Often she'd find herself crying while nestled in William's arms after their lovemaking. He never knew why, but he didn't ask, only snuggled closer and stroked the silver pendant in her chest. It seemed to soothe her, but it was always a painful reminder of what was to come. Tonight was the night of his turning, or the Hour of the Hora, as she had remembered reading one time and William had assured her repeatedly that he was not going out.

She always spent a few moments during the day contemplating her options, deciding what the most logical choice was. Then, William would interrupt her and she would forget about it for a few hours. As if on queue, she sensed William's presence behind her chair as he entered the room.

"Hello, my love," he said softly, bowing down to place a kiss on her exposed neck. The moon shone through the open window, making their skins glow a soft blue, and the dying firelight made Willow realise she had not been able to see the words of her book for quite some time now.

She sighed, deciding to think about the serious stuff later, "Hello."

His lips worked lower, "What are you doing?" he asked between kisses.

She didn't answer at first, distracted as his nimble hands began to roam, "Oh…oh, nothing…really, I…"

William's large hands began untying her front corset. She gave in, leaning back and wondering why she bothered to put clothes on in the first place. His fingers slipped under the material and she gasped as his cool hands massaged her overheated flesh. She arched into his hands, her mouth opened in a breathy pant. He seized this opportunity and placed a gentle kiss on her lips, which then deepened as she let his tongue inside.

Willow's hips began unconsciously rubbing against her seat; her book forgotten as it slid to the floor unnoticed. Whenever she was with William, he always seemed determined to not let her think about anyone or anything else but him.

"W-William," she said thickly into his mouth, so it came out more like `Millmiam.' He didn't break away at first, and she wasn't in any rush to make him. She wrapped her arm around his neck to pull him in, but also to hold herself steady as his languid movements made her wet and dizzy.

His nails scraped lightly over her shoulders as he pulled down her sleeves, leaving her shoulders exposed. Willow tilted her head to the side and he began to nibble her collarbone, "You're so beautiful…" he said between alternating bites and licks, which made her shiver.

"N-no, I'm n-not," she sighed without thinking, he only paused a moment before continuing.

"Yes you are," he insisted softly, his teeth scraping just below her hairline, "Beautiful. Like the sunrise, only, er, not as orange…"

She laughed and he laughed too, spoiling the heavy atmosphere and making her remember why she had attempted to stop him before. She jumped out of the chair before he could get his hands, or lips, back on her.

Willow paled slightly in anticipation, "Look, Will, I need to…"

"What?" he said, looking alarmed, "Are you sick again?"

"No, I…"

"Are you sure? Have you checked your temperature? Quick, let me get you some orange juice, that's supposed to help…"

"No!" she said more forcefully. She had decided she was going to tell William everything. He wouldn't believe her at first, she knew that, but she would sit him down and talk him through it. Then, they would decide together what she should do. She really loved him. What she'd said a few weeks ago were not just the words of Willow's passion, but of her soul and heart. She couldn't bear lying to him any more. Besides, this would be a good distraction so he wouldn't be tempted to go outside where Drusilla and Angelus were probably waiting.

"What is it, Willow?" he asked, studying her with equal amounts of apprehension and concern.

"I-I need to tell you some things…about me, my…my past." She swallowed the lump in her throat and tried to read his face. It was almost blank, although there was some interest in his eyes, but mostly just an indication to continue.

"I'm not from here…" The words came out reluctantly, and William's face became worried again.

"Will, what…?"

"No!" she said again, almost desperately, "Please, just let me get through this…don't answer any questions, `cause they're probably rhetorical…just listen, please?"

He nodded, unsure whether to answer, as she had just asked him not to, but she continued before he could answer anyway so he just kept his mouth shut.

"Well, I…don't really know how to put this…" She stood up straighter, her face determined. "I'm n-not from around here," she repeated, "Not from this…time."

She could tell he wanted to say something, he had that little crease from the top of his forehead to his eyebrow and his mouth was poutier than usual, but she didn't want him to speak. Not yet.

"It was magic," she began with resolve, "Not poetic magic…real magic. Witches…they're real. I know because…I'm one of them…I wasn't born twenty-one years ago; I was born more than ninety years in the future. See, I cast this spell…" She decided not to tell him about his future self, chances were he probably wouldn't even be his future self anyway. "it was a-a time travel spell…I made a mistake," she lied, "and came here…It's the year 2001 where I come from, and I, er, may have to go back there soon…" She studied his face, which was uncharacteristically cold, "Look, I'm not asking you to accept it, I just want you to trust me on this. Can you trust me?"

Willow held her breath, waiting for him to answer. She smiled a bit when she remembered what she had requested him at the beginning, "William, that wasn't a rhetorical question…you can answer that one."

He met her gaze and she flinched at what she saw there, "I'm not sure I want to," he said hoarsely.

She frowned, reaching out to him, "William, please…"

"Stay back," he hissed, taking two large steps towards the door, "I-I d-don't want…"

"Will…"

"Don't speak my name!" he shouted, shocking her, "What are you, what are you doing…"

"Willia…" she pleaded, but he cut her off.

"I said do not speak it! God, to think I…you're nothing but a… a slut!"

The foul word hung in the air like a bad smell, hanging between them and forming a small wall. She paled considerably.

"I-I just wanted to…"

"To what? To use me? To…I said stay *back*!" he snarled, before beginning to mutter to himself. She picked up small pieces of it, and it brought tears to her eyes. "Mother was right…dirty…lying…stupid…" he mumbled, looking at the carpet as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

"Please, William…" She reached for him again, but he did not move away. Instead, he strode up to her and grabbed her by the shoulders painfully, causing more tears to fall from her eyes.

"Don't lie to me!" he shouted, shaking her, "Don't speak my name like you love me!"

"I do, I do love you…" she whispered, her head getting heavy from all the shaking.

"No!" He threw her to the ground, harder than before and she lay there winded for a moment. William showed no sign of remorse, only pure hatred, "You don't love me, you don't…" He stopped, let out a broken sob and ran out the door.

~Part: 14~

Her head was suddenly clear and she scrambled to her feet, "No William! Don’t leave the house…" She heard the telltale sounds of the front door slamming and she ran, ran as if her own life depended on it, not just William’s. She flew out the door, not bothering to close it as she could see William already had an amazing head start. "William! Stop! You can’t…not tonight!"

But he ran on, and so did she. He was fast, as was Willow, but she was hindered by her of boots, which made her stumble foolishly every few yards, so he kept gaining ground on her.

"William!" she yelled, just as a dark figure stepped in front of her lover. "No! Go away, Angelus, leave him!"

Willow heard an eerie giggling from somewhere she couldn’t see. "See, daddy, I told you she was a witch!" the same voice that giggled, sang.

Just as those words were uttered, two vampires in full game face came out of nowhere and grabbed Willow’s arms, holding her in place. She struggled, but to no avail. The vampires just laughed along with Angelus and Drusilla, who had come out of hiding and was now standing beside her sire, a triumphant grin on her face.

William started to run to her, but Angelus grabbed his arms and held them tightly behind his back, "Ouch! What in the blazes are you doing?!"

"Taking what’s mine, little prince," Drusilla smiled, not caring that he flinched away when she ran a sharp nail down his cheekbone.

"Bring the little witch here!" Angelus demanded, and the minions complied immediately.

"Get you’re fifthly hands off me, you disgusting…"

"Can we eat her, boss?" the minion with a Scottish accent asked, but he was met with a low growl coming from Drusilla. Willow was now only a few feet away from the vampire couple and her lover. She could see the yellow in their eyes and the fear in William’s.

"She’s my baby’s to eat…his first!" Drusilla clapped her hands, William and Willow both struggling harder.

"Leave him, Angelus!" Willow shouted, "Take me instead!"

He grinned, slipping into game face, "Sorry, girlie, this isn’t an either/or situation. First he dies, then you die…besides, you’re not what princess is after."

William turned to look at Angelus, but the vampire jerked him around, so he looked at Drusilla instead, whose face was also morphed into her demon façade. He jumped away, but his struggles stopped when Angelus delivered a dizzying, but not lethal, blow to the back of his head. He sagged, but the vampire held him up with ease.

"The Hour of the Hora has started, daddy, blood will flow!" Drusilla murmured, moving forward to stand close beside William, letting her body rub up and down his side. He blushed, and Willow cursed.

"Stay the fuck away from him you vampire whore! Sick, crazy…"

She was cut off by a slap to the face with nails that dug into her cheek. She looked up and saw Drusilla laughing and sucking small bits of Willow’s flesh and blood from her nails. "Ooh, I will very much enjoy seeing this one die."

"In time, Dru. Now, if you don’t mind? I want ta get home before sunrise."

"Okie Dokie!" Drusilla wandered behind William, running her fingers over his neck, snapping it suddenly to the side. She knew it was close to the breaking point by the way William was grunting in pain.

"No!" Willow screamed, kicking, "No, not William! No, please!"

Angelus laughed heartily as Drusilla licked a path over the pulse point in his neck. "Watch him die, witch. How does it feel?" he didn’t wait for a reply, "knowing he’s right here and you can’t do a thing…to know that you drove him out here to his death…it hurts, doesn’t it? But it isn’t enough; you need to ‘be’ hurt, hurt for killing your lover…"

"Die, die, die," Drusilla said breathily, looking Willow straight in the eyes.

Willow began crying harder than she ever had before, "He’s innocent; he doesn’t deserve…!"

She watched in horror as the lady vampire’s teeth sunk into William’s neck. His face contorting in pain was enough to make Willow scream louder and kick harder.

"No!" she sobbed, watching as his life drained away, "Oh William, I’m so sorry…"

"Willow?’ he mouthed. He looked so clueless, that her knees buckled under her own weight, causing her to almost fall to the ground as tears streamed down her face, making the scratch marks on her cheeks sting.

"I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…" she cried, pausing to see his lips move for the last time.

"Fight," he said silently, his eyes falling shut.

A sudden burst of energy coursed through Willow and she redoubled her efforts, shoving the vampires off her and using all her strength to elbow them both in the face. They howled as the sharp body part came in contact with their noses, clutching their faces as Willow ran off into the night.

"Stop her, you fools! No…not that way! The other…" Willow didn’t hear the rest, she just ran. Her vision was clouded with tears, but she could see the outline of the Whitam manor and ran faster. She had no pursuers, but that didn’t stop her feet from pounding painfully up the cobbled pathway, through the front door and into safety.

As soon as she slammed the door behind her, she slid down it until she landed heavily on the floor. She clutched at her face, her fingers poking the raw wounds painfully, but Angelus was right, she deserved pain. Without warning, she threw her head to the side and vomited, trying to ignore the smell but not being able to and vomiting again.

Willow stood on shaky legs, trying to walk but falling to her hands and knees, her breathing laboured. She had to pack, she decided, the flesh around the pendant tingling sharply. She had to leave the Whitam manor for the last time.

*~*~*~*~*~*

It had been just over a month, but Willow still hurt. Her stomach hurt, her head hurt, her throat hurt from crying but more importantly, her heart hurt. She sat in a pitch-black carriage, tears running silently down her face. She had organised travel plans as soon as possible. The wait would have been about five months, but the kind old man who rented out the carriages had sensed her distress and offered a one-way ride to Brighton, which she gladly accepted.

She considered going home, but couldn’t. First of all, because she had failed, present-day Spike would most likely have her tortured and killed for not succeeding. But most of all, she didn’t think she deserved it. Angelus’ words rang in her head like a bad mantra, ‘…to know he’s right here and you can’t do a thing…to know you drove him out here, to his death…it hurts, doesn’t it? But it isn’t enough; you need to ‘be’ hurt, hurt for killing your lover…’ Angelus was right, she *did* deserve pain. It was her fault he died…if only she’d waited just a few more hours to fucking tell him!

Willow threw her head back and sobbed, ignoring the dull ache that was forming in the back of her skull. He was dead. No, he was worse than dead…he was Spike. No, he wasn’t anything…William was gone, at least, the William she knew. Nothing was left but his face and his body, and a soulless demon with none of William’s characteristics whatsoever. At least she didn’t have to worry about running into the vampire trio. According to Giles’ historical records, the Order of Aurelius were migrating to Durham just south of Scotland at the moment, which was quite far away from where she was headed. If she had her way, she would be on the other side of the world by now, but she didn’t have enough money.

Suddenly, the carriage stopped and she was jolted out of her thoughts. Instinctively, she swiped at her tears and put on a cool façade, awaiting the driver to come and explain that the carriage had been bogged down in the mud or something. She waited patiently for a minute or two, but the only thing she heard was a few bumps and shuffled movements.

"Carlson!" she called, cursing her voice that was thick with tears, "Is something wrong?"

"Wrong?" he asked, in a slightly mocking way, "No, nothing’s wrong…"

"Oh…well, good…Could you wake me when we get to Brighton? I’m very tired…"

"As you wish," Angelus said, letting the horse trot over the dead body of the former driver.

He turned to look at his new grandchilde, who was wearing a similar smirk to his. Angelus glanced back to the seemingly empty carriage, "She cries for ye still, boyo."

He grinned wolfishly, "I know, I can smell it too. Shall I, er, go say hello?"

"Oh, please do!" Angelus said, "Say hello from me, too."

*~*~*~*~*~*

Willow was slowly pulled out of sleep, but she didn’t want to face the day, so she kept her eyes shut tight. She could see it was dark around her, but sensed daylight just outside her carriage. She mentally shrugged and snuggled closer to her cool pillow, assuming she’d closed the curtains. Willow sighed, what would she do while she was in Brighton? Get another job at a pub? No, she would have to do something meaningful, aside from being groped, harassed and ogled by a group of middle-aged men with no sex life at home.

‘Sure, Willow,’ she thought, ‘why don’t you just marry one of the rich ones and all your problems will be solved!’

Woman’s liberation wasn’t for quite some time yet, and there weren’t many jobs around that didn’t involve some form of sexual exploitation. Perhaps she could write a story of some sort, and put it under a male name? ‘Okay, Willow, I’ll forgive you for that ‘cause you just woke up.’

She suddenly froze. Her breathing stopped, as her heartbeat sped up and her jaw clenched. Her carriage was low class; it didn’t have curtains, or a pillow. Willow’s eyes snapped open and she came face to face with William. She let out a scream and leapt off him, but he casually grabbed her arm to the point of bruising and tugged her onto his lap.

"Did I say you could move?" he asked in that cockney accent she knew so well from Sunnydale.

"Spike?" she whispered, struggling half-heartedly to get off his lap.

"How d’you know my new nickname, Willow?" he asked, then stopped himself and smirked, "Oh yeah, you’re a witch."

"I thought you didn’t believe in witches," she said, fear making her voice husky.

He laughed, "Didn’t believe in vampires either, my love. Things change."

She winced at his ‘my love’ comment and tears welled up in her eyes. He merely laughed again and held her tighter on his lap, "Crying already, my love? We haven’t even started yet!"

"Shut up!" she hissed, trying harder to struggle, "Don’t talk as if you’re William, you aren’t!"

"Really?" he asked sarcastically, "and here I was thinkin’ I was a sodding poof with glasses."

"You’re supposed to be in Durham!" she snapped, not rising to the bait, "You were meant to get in trouble with the hunters for killing one of their mothers o-or sisters or *something.* Why are you here?"

"Looking for you, my love," he began to trace patterns on her back with his nails, his seemingly gentle, almost loving caresses drawing blood. "You see, you were meant to be my first feed after I became a vampire…by the way, remind me to thank you for that, you changed my life…well, death actually…but, you ran away before the festivities began, so I was left with that old bird…"

"Marie!" she cried, hot tears prickling her eyes, "You killed Marie?!

Y-You…"

"And my parents…wanted to get them back for hurtin’ you, didn’t I?" he lied, as if he was trying to blame her for their deaths, "made my father’s death nice ‘n’ slow. He was begging, *begging*…"

She felt him harden beneath her and squealed as she tried to get away, but he just grabbed her hips and held them down, "Keep going…ah, that feels gooood."

Willow stopped and blushed, "You’re sick!"

He laughed maniacally, "I should bloody well think so, my love! Anyway, the party was missing a guest…Marie wasn’t any bloody help, didn’t tell her where you were, you naughty girl. But, you did tell somebody…"

Her face lost colour, "Harry."

His eyes glinted, "Letters are funny things, aren’t they? No privacy…"

"You killed Harry."

"Of course. He told me after about three hours…so much blood in people, don’t you think?"

Willow was crying quietly, as he brushed the hair that had curtained over her face behind her ear.

"What do you want?" she asked, not looking at him.

"You, my love," he said, then there was pain, and then it all went blissfully black.

~Part: 15~

Willow stirred under the cool bed sheets, moaning as she felt a rhythmic pounding in the back of her skull. She looked around the room, still a little disorientated, there wasn’t much in the way of furniture, besides the bed that she was lying in and what looked like a writing desk of some sort. There were two doors, one that was open and led into what appeared to be a small bathroom, and another that was large and shut tight.

Suddenly, she remembered where and, more importantly, when she was, and unbidden tears came to her eyes. Becoming more aware of herself, she realized that she was, in fact, very naked, and her muscles tightened painfully with worry, as her mouth went dry. She was in what she assumed was Spike’s house, and it seemed somebody was coming down the hallway in her direction.

Fuck.

"At last, she awakens," a voice said dramatically, "took you long enough."

Willow sat up straight as he glided into the room, the very picture of self-assurance, "Spike?" she managed.

He ignored her question, opting instead to sit beside her on the bed. She shrunk away in fear. "I was beginning to think I’d killed you."

"I wish you had!" she spat, and he grinned in amusement.

"You don’t…but you will," he leaned forward to whisper in her ear, "Soon."

"You wish!" She noticeably winced at her lame retort, but Willow excused herself just this once because she knew it was only due to the mind numbing fear she felt whenever she was within close proximity of this vampire.

"Up for a little witty repartee, my love?" he mocked, grinning wider, "Dammit, I left my dictionary in my other pants."

"What do you want, Spike?" she asked shakily, clutching the sheets closer to her breasts.

He rolled his eyes, "Did that blow to the head knock out your short term memory, my love? I want you."

Her eyes widened, "Why?"

"I don’t know," he answered casually, his hand drifting up to caress her bare shoulder. She flinched away, but he dug his nails in to hold her in place, resuming his gentle stroking after her whimpers, "to hurt you, fuck you…love you."

"L-love me?"

He laughed at himself, "Well, mostly the hurting and fucking part, but yeah."

"You c-can’t love," she unknowingly echoed Buffy’s words, "y-you’re a demon, an evil soulless…"

"Aw shucks, you flatter me, my love…Sadly, compliments won’t get you out of this one."

Her lower lip trembled, and Spike longed to bite it. But he couldn’t, not yet. "I don’t love you," she tried bravely, but he only laughed again and pushed her shoulders back onto the pillow. She tried to sit up but he wouldn’t let her.

"You will, my love, you’ll ache for me with all your heart and soul all over again."

"What about Drusilla?" she asked, watching him cautiously.

"What, that nutter? She’s too busy fucking my sire…and anyway, why bother with the Queen of Crazy when I got a warm," his hand tugged down the sheet, "perfectly willing, deliciously tight body right here?"

"I-I’m hardly willing!" she squeaked, trying desperately to grab the sheet from his grasp, but he held it out of reach just a little until yanking the whole thing off her. Her blush, which was already hot at the ‘deliciously tight’ comment, was now flaming as her naked body was revealed to him.

She scrunched herself up into the smallest ball she could, but he pulled apart her limbs easily. "You will be, my love."

Willow cringed under his hungry scrutinising, trying to cover herself, but that in turn just made her breasts bounce appealingly, which was a sight for sore eyes for the young vampire. "Spike, please…"

"Begging? Already? Gawd, those weeks with out me must have made you randy as hell!" She was about to snap back a reply, but his eyes darkened and his face intensified, "Did you miss me?"

He didn’t wait for a reply, instead he pounced on her, his groin over hers while he pinned her arms to the pillow above her head. She struggled a bit, but he merely groaned and grabbed one of her hands, placing it over the bulge in the front of his pants, "Well, I’ve sure as hell missed you!"

She blushed and tried to pull her hand away, but she needn’t have bothered, as he put the hand back above her head and leaned in to place a punishing kiss on her lips. She tried not to respond, she honestly did, but he was doing that tongue-sucking thing she loved so much, and she cursed her mouth for betraying her. Willow missed this, she missed William’s lips on hers, and so she just relaxed and pretended he was William.

Spike, as if reading her thoughts, tore his mouth away and grabbed her breast roughly, making her cry out in pain as he squeezed hard. "I’m not him; I’m not your dearest darling ponce of a lover. It’s me, Spike, the demon. You’re responding to Spike, the demon. You’re imagining fucking Spike, the demon. Say it!" he growled, digging his nails in, "Say it!"

"Y-you’re not William. You’re Spike!" she said through the pain, but it only increased.

"Who are you with?! Who are you about to fuck?!"

"You!" she screamed, feeling blood dribble down her breast, "You! Spike…th-the demon, I’m going to fuck Spike…"

The impact of the words she had just said hit her and she began struggling again, but he simply laughed some more, "You know what you want, my love, why not just give in to it?"

"I-I don’t want…" she was cut off by her own gasp as his head dipped down to take her rose coloured nipple in his cool mouth. Willow held in a moan as he nibbled on it gently, before trailing light kisses up to her neck. She squirmed beneath him, feeling a wet heat between her legs. Suddenly, he bit down hard with blunt teeth, making her moan and arch into him involuntarily.

"See, my love," he breathed, clearly more affected by her than he was willing to let on, "a part of you still wants me, wants me to touch you, make you scream…"

"No." She tried again to shake him off her, but she knew in her mind that she wanted him to stay. He was still her William in body, and he certainly hadn’t forgotten what she liked over the months.

"No?" His hand drifted down to the damp curls between her legs, "No?" he repeated, rotating two fingers just outside of her opening. His movements were tortuously slow, and within seconds she was lifting her hips in an attempt to have him deeper inside her. All the while, he continued to pull his fingers back teasingly, not allowing her to get the fulfilment he was soon going to make her beg for.

"Spike…" she moaned as he cupped her uninjured breast, pinching the nipple just hard enough to sting slightly and bring more moisture to her core. He appeared to be only teasing her, but she felt his hardness pressing into her stomach when he leaned down to lick the scratch wounds in her breast.

"Say it, pet," the words were soft, but demanding, "say it, and I’ll do it…I know what you want, all you have to do is say the words."

"I…" she was about to offer a half-hearted refusal, but his hand suddenly pressed down on her swollen clitoris. Her eyes screamed while her mouth only opened and closed silently. The sight was too arousing for words, and it was all he could do to stop himself from coming in his pants.

"You?" he prompted, pressing down harder and letting his fingers vibrate slightly.

"No I don’t…I really…" she groaned loudly, "want you to fuck me, oh god, please, Spike…"

"All I needed to hear," he lied, knowing full well he was right on the edge of fucking her, whether she’d said it or not.

He took her lips in a searing kiss, his fingers finally penetrating her wet channel. She cried out into his mouth and her hands clawed at his shirt, eager to remove offending material but not knowing how. William, while biting on her lower lip, removed the shirt with ease. She reached out, laying her hands on anything she could reach, including his back, chest and firm ass, which was impossible not to squeeze. He growled and fiddled with his pants, his hands shaking as he tugged them from his legs.

He had been waiting for this since he’d become a fledgling, awakening in a dark room and thinking of nothing but her; her lips, her blood, how she would taste while screaming in fear… Angelus and Drusilla had agreed to help find her, but Darla refused to take part and went to Northern India to soak up some culture. Angelus, on the other hand, knew how it felt to obsess over one girl, and this made them share a special bond. Drusilla just did what ever her daddy asked her to. This should have bothered him, as he was her childe and barely received any attention from her. Yet, all he could think, breathe, (although not literally), and feel was Willow.

He entered her and she gasped, tightening around him instinctively. His eyes widened before he began to ride her, her eyes closing as her breaths came out as short moans. After wrapping her legs around his waist, she met every thrust with a powerful one of her own. His head moved down to lick her breasts hungrily, grazing his teeth along her nipples every so often.

‘Wrong!’ her mind screamed, "Oh yesss," her mouth cried out. She was feeling dizzy, but she was fully aware of everything going on around her. He was pounding into her so hard, she knew if he did it any harder she would split in two. He wasn’t breathing fast or panting, and this made Willow feel insecure for a moment before she realised his eyes had rolled back into his head and he was quivering violently. His hand slipped down to pinch her clitoris, making Willow groan roughly.

He slipped into game face as he felt his orgasm building up. Seeing her eyes widen in fear, he sniffed deeply, his mouth watering. He could stand it no longer. He gave her clitoris a slight twist and felt her quake beneath him, as he dug his fangs into her breast. He gulped greedily; the climax, mixed with her fear, a little magic and something undeniably Willow, created the most sensual blood cocktail Spike had ever tasted.

The impact of what she had just done hit her and she began to struggle anew, even though the orgasm was still racking her body. She grew tired and woozy, and the pain in her breast was deep and hot. She felt as though her mind was slowly drifting away.

He felt her worn body go limp beneath him. Realising he’d taken too much, he let his fangs slip out of her flesh, and licked the wound until it clotted. Then, he gazed at the face of his new, and now unconscious, lover. She was paler than usual, but he suspected it was from the blood loss as her heart still pounded steadily in her chest.

He grinned at her through his fangs. Now he knew what he’d been obsessing about all this time. She was so beautiful, not stereotypical beauty, but classical beauty. She had delicate facial features, with subtle pouting lips that he had to physically restrain himself to keep from kissing. He felt no restraint at the moment however, as he lowered his head to place a soft kiss on her pink lips, leaving behind a small smudge of her own blood. He licked it off and groaned, feeling his hard-on return with a vengeance.

Spike slipped out of the bed, "Won’t be long, my love, you’ll adore me once again." He then left the barely alive Willow in bed, while he took care of his needs in the adjoining bathroom.

~Part: 16~

Spike strode into the room to find his fire goddess snoring softly, her knees drawn to her chest in the foetal position.

"Now, now," he muttered, "this simply will not do."

In two long strides he was beside her, taking a moment to admire her beauty, then grabbing her by the hair and slamming her skull into the wall. Willow screamed and moaned in pain, but he just cradled her head in his hands and forced her to look at him.

"Come along now, my love, what are the magic words?"

She struggled to remember, her head pounding and the world spinning in front of her, "I-I don’t know…I f-forget…forgot…"

He shook her violently, although his face was slack with not caring, "This second, my love, or you shall find yourself at the suffering end of a meat cleaver."

"I-I…what…I am…I am yours?"

Spike let her flop down onto the bed, "You better believe it, my love. You are mine."

"I am yours," she repeated, only because she could think of nothing else to say.

With her eyes closed she did not notice his face soften. He sat beside her on the bed, lifting her limp frame so she lay with her head and shoulders across his lap. She was still disorientated, and made no attempts to move away when he began to stroke her hair.

"Look, my love, we had an arrangement…You know why I make you to say it, don’t you?"

She sighed, "So I do not stray. So I know who I belong to."

"That’s right. Just do as I say, and…well, you ‘will’ get hurt, but…ah, forget I said anything."

Willow was in a state of semi-consciousness, so she just said the only thing that came to her mind. "Hones’ly, Spike, where’m I gunna stray? No one but me here, you an’ me…"

"That’s right, pet, for eternity…" he whispered, kissing the bruise on her forehead that was slowly beginning to form.

"Spike?"

"Yes, my love?"

"I want to go home."

Within seconds he was on top of her, his knees on either side of her hips and his knuckles pressed into her windpipe.

"You are home, pet. Say it!" he growled.

She merely opened her mouth to gasp in oxygen, which she wasn’t getting. Spike released the pressure and grabbed her hair, tilting her chin upwards and baring her throat to him. He looked at the pale flesh and almost preened with pride at the multiple bite marks that spattered her skin. He loved marking her, but was always careful to keep the bites shallow so she wouldn’t be left with a bunch of ugly scars after he turned her, except, of course, for the first one which was much deeper and would definitely leave a permanent mark of ownership once healed.

"No," she moaned, trying in her weakened state to struggle, "It hurts…"

"You’re home…you’re home!" he shouted, his teeth grazing her neck painfully.

"I-I’m home," she gasped, "home…"

He slipped into his vampire façade, grinning, "Yes, you are," he said, before biting ravenously into a part of her unmarked skin.

"Home," she said again, bleakly drifting into unconsciousness.

*~*~*~*~*~*

This time when William entered the room, a small voice drifted from the sleeping figure on the bed, "I am yours."

He cackled, "Too bloody right you are, my love!"

She stirred and awoke, not realising she had said the words, "Huh?"

Spike ignored her questioning grunt and adjusted the long green dress over his arm. "Come along, my love, it’s time for you to leave this room."

Her eyes opened wide, "You mean I can go home?" He stalked forward menacingly at her choice of words, and she instinctively covered her eyes, "I am home, I am home, I am home, I am…"

"I get the point, pet. Here, put this on." He tossed the ball gown to her, and she tried to catch it, but her aim was so off it just landed on her head. He laughed, finding the image so impossibly cute that he wanted to fuck her through the mattress. But now was not the time.

"What’s it for?" she asked weakly, holding up the garment at arms length.

"We’re going swimming," he said sarcastically

"Oh."

He laughed hard, "God, you really are a treat, aren’t you? We’re going to a ball."

"A ball?!" she squeaked, her hand immediately going to her matted hair.

"Yes, a ball," he said, annoyed, "Get ready. I had some…women’s things delivered; I don’t know nothin’ about that kind of stuff, makeup or whatever…" he shrugged, "Just hurry up, will you?" He left the room with barely a glance in her direction, slamming the door and leaving her staring blankly at the dress.

Willow stood up, leaving the elegant garment on the bed and wandering into the bathroom. It had only been a few weeks since Spike had brought her there, but she had lost count after the first few days, as they seemed to merge into each other. The windows were permanently blocked out, so her room was in a state of perpetual darkness making it hard to tell day from night. He had been brutal to her, and yet appeared to be doing his best to care for her. Spike tried to bring her a variety of dishes to help keep her strength up, but the stress didn’t make the food sit well with her, and she was constantly ill.

She began running a hot bath, the steam drifting up, making her face hot and sweaty but she did not move. She knew she was cracking, going insane like Drusilla. She would often find herself seeing things that weren’t there, and sometimes she would talk to Tara or Buffy, only to find them gone when she blinked. It was Spike, she knew it, he was confusing her and making her mind into a mess she just couldn’t organise. But, she also knew it was herself, and her stupid hope. Her hope made her believe she would somehow get out of this, but her hope also created such beautiful delusions that she would cry bitterly when they ended.

Willow turned off the water, looking at her rippling reflection for a moment before slipping into the scalding water. It burned and made her skin go a bright red, but she ignored the pain and went in up to the top of her head. She blew out bubbles, her mind not registering her lack of air. Her eyes fell closed and everything became such a wonderful black.

Suddenly, she was pulled into a sitting position by a familiar vampire, Spike, but his hair was slicked back and dyed to a bright peroxide blonde. He was also wearing his signature leather duster with a pair of black denim jeans. She gasped in the air, but didn’t move her eyes from his gentle face.

"Spike," she said, reaching out to touch him and closing her eyes at the warm leather under her fingertips, "you’re not real."

"Nope," he admitted, letting go of her shoulders so she sunk back in up to her neck, "Just a figment."

"Why are you here?" she asked.

He laughed, "I dunno, it’s your bloody psyche, luv."

"I feel so dirty, Spike," she whispered, and his face became gentle again. He picked up a soapy sponge from nowhere and began cleaning her bite wounds. "It tickles," she giggled, moving her head back to give him better access.

He smiled, "You gotta fight, Willow,"

She frowned while he began cleaning her breasts "William said that to me once, when he was still human."

He shrugged, "He was a smart guy, handsome too."

Willow laughed, and then sighed as the coarse sponge scrubbed lightly over her shoulders, "He was, wasn’t he? Still is."

"He wouldn’t want you like this," Spike continued, moving the sponge to her other shoulder, "he’d want you to be home, or at least happy here in this time."

"I know," she said, arching into him as the sponge glided over her stomach, "but I can’t."

"Why not?"

"I live with you, don’t I?" she joked, but his face remained serious.

"You don’t live, not really," he replied, the sponge moving between her thighs. She opened her legs wider for him, "You’re still alive, but you don’t live. William…"

"He’s dead, isn’t he?" she snapped, tears falling from her eyes.

"And whose fault is that?"

She closed her eyes, "Mine."

"No. That’s what you have to realise," he said, continuing to massage and clean the wet thatch of hair at the juncture of her thighs, "shit happens, you can’t change it. Spike, future Spike, didn’t know this…but you have to prepare yourself, Willow. You will get back, but you may not like what you find."

"Spike?"

"Yeah?"

"I wanna go home," she sobbed.

"You are home, pet. As long as you live, wherever you are is home."

She hugged him, and he hugged back. She could smell the tobacco and leather, and he was warm. She clung to this illusion like she’d never clung to anything before. But she felt him drift away, and soon she was being pulled out of the tub by a cold vampire swearing in a way that would make Angelus blush.

"Fucking hell, Willow, don’t die! You can’t die yet!"

Willow was detached; she could see only blackness, his words were like a badly tuned radio. Suddenly, an enormous pressure on her chest made water arc out of her mouth, her eyes shot open and she vomited out the rest. As soon as she was breathing, Spike had gathered her up in his arms and was rocking her.

"My love, my dear sweet love…I can’t lose you…" he muttered into her hair, and she heard the tears in his voice. She wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her head in his shoulder. She felt the other warm Spike, from her hallucination, come up behind her, supporting her so she would not fall from the crying Spike’s unsteady embrace.

*~*~*~*~*~*

They arrived at a large mansion which Willow didn’t recognise. She held on tight to Spike’s arm as she was still weak from her earlier near-death experience. Drusilla had helped her get dressed, applied her makeup, and brushed her hair while humming a joyful tune, delighting in digging the brush into Willow’s scalp and tying up her corset a little too tight.

"Here we are, my love, the Brodereck manor," Spike explained, leading her to the entrance with Drusilla and Angelus in tow.

"Brodereck…" she said thoughtfully, her brow creased, "I thought you two were all ‘mortal-enemy’?"

"Oh yes," he said happily, all traces of the earlier event gone from his face and demeanour, "we’re going to eat his family."

"Oh," she said sullenly, "should I ask why you brought me along?"

"No, but I’ll answer you anyway. You’re going to lead the male population of the Brodereck family outside where we can…you know…kill them horribly."

Willow felt sick at the thought, "M-male population? How many are there exactly?"

"Only two, the father and Gordon himself."

"How do you expect me to lead them outside anyway?" she asked.

"Why, with yer attractive bosom, of course," Angelus laughed from behind them. Willow blushed and Spike frowned deeply.

"Watch it, sire," he scowled, but not loud enough for anyone but himself to hear.

"Well, I won’t do it!" she held her head up high, "You can hurt me if you want, but I refuse to partake in this sick little game!"

Spike offered her a dark grin, "I’ll hurt you anyway, but if you don’t…well, I have minions all over the place, ready to attack anyone in sight at my signal," he smiled wider at her gasp, "if you behave, we’ll just kill two instead of them all. What do you say?"

Willow looked around, her eyes lingering on a little girl with shiny brown pigtails and a skip in her step. "Mummy, can I dance with fluffy tonight?" she asked her mother, holding up a toy cat and waving it around eagerly.

Willow had to look away. She didn’t want to have all these people’s deaths on her conscience. Surely two people’s deaths were better than over a hundred, right?

"I-I’ll do it…" Willow said softly, but Spike still heard and grinned triumphantly.

"You made the right choice, my love," he crowed, just as they reached the door.

Spike handed the man at the door three invitations, and they were let in with barely an acknowledgment. Willow looked around the room, trying to feel good about how many people’s lives she was saving tonight, but that thought did nothing to stop the bile in her throat.

He let go of her arm and used it to point in the direction of a familiar young man, laughing heartily with his friends. "Show time, my love," he whispered, pushing her gently.

She looked around nervously, and upon seeing a dark stranger’s eyes flash gold at the little girl with the stuffed cat, she hurried in the direction of the man who was blissfully unaware of what was about to transpire.

~Part: 17~

"Miss Bloodeneen?" Gordon greeted her incredulously, causing each man in the circle to look at her curiously. She tried not blush under their close scrutiny.

"Good evening, Mr Brodereck," she said demurely with a small curtsy.

He smiled brilliantly, setting down his glass, "Chris, Simon, Peter, this is Willow Bloodeneen. She’s a close acquaintance of our Will. Willow, this is Christopher Wright, Simon Lynch and Peter Kindley."

She shook each of their hands in turn, but they all insisted on placing a feather-light kiss on her knuckles before letting go. Willow looked nervously in Spike’s direction, only to see him observing their actions blankly.

"So, Willow, did you hear the news? No doubt Will tried to hide it from you…"

"Er, no…sorry."

He waved his hand in front of her eyes for her to see. She noticed with dismay the gold band encasing his ring finger. "Married. Only been a few months, but my wife’s already expecting."

Oh god, this was so much worse than she thought. Gordon was married and it seemed that marriage had softened him. He was now charming without being overpowering, and he didn’t even mention her waitressing job or what she had said to him the night they had last met. It made her feel sick just thinking about what she was doing, the food she had consumed earlier that evening churning around in her delicate stomach.

Suddenly, an idea came to her and she felt a surge of happiness. She could stop this, all of it. She interrupted whatever conversation they were having and cleared her throat.

"Mr. Brodereck, would you care to dance?" she asked politely, offering another curtsy.

He grinned, "Why of course, Miss Bloodeneen."

Willow smiled back cautiously, then slipped her small hand into his large outstretched one and they began a simple waltz. The redhead stumbled a bit at first, but they both laughed it off and soon he was whisking her around the dance floor with relative ease. She was a little dizzy, but she kept up.

"Your wife," she began distractedly, keeping her eye on the target that she was slowly steering them towards, "does she treat you right?"

He laughed, "Yes. She’s rather like you, in a way. Fragile, gentle…"

"Excuse me?!"

"…tough, stubborn, fiery," he continued with a saucy wink, "I’m crazy about her."

Willow gave him a genuine smile that he returned. She looked over his shoulder and noticed Spike was standing alone in a dark corner giving them a grim expression, while Angelus flirted with every woman in sight. This confused her for a moment before she reminded herself to stick to the mission.

Willow neared her destination, said a small prayer, and let her ankle roll on the floor. She cried out in real pain and stumbled right into a row of candles which set off a chain reaction sending all the nearby candles into the beautiful drapes.

The place was soon ablaze and women were screaming. Willow ushered everyone outside, "Quick, everyone!" she shouted, "Get out, go home…NOW!" She pretended to run scared with everyone else, but really she was checking closely for stragglers, as well as vampires looking to make a quick meal of a terrified, helpless person.

Her plan went surprisingly well, as the guests scattered and vampires ran in every direction away from the deadly flames. She was almost smiling to herself when she caught sight of a girl crouched in the corner, crying loudly. Willow raced over, weaving through the now sparse crowd to get to her. She bundled the little girl in her arms. The child didn’t complain, just hugged Willow tightly and sobbed.

She ran outside and soon spotted what looked to be her mother, searching desperately through the mass of people. She was calling, ‘Emily!’ as loud as she could, her eyes full of tears. Willow opened her mouth to call for the woman, but a firm hand clamped over her face and dragged her and the child into an alleyway.

She realised it was Spike and Angelus, and her eyes widened. Angelus pinned the redhead to the wall with his forearm over her neck and Spike wrenched the little girl from her grip, holding the squirming child with one arm as he got in Willow’s face.

"That was a very mean trick, Willow, my love," he said softly, shaking the crying girl until her sobs became whimpers.

"Don’t hurt her!" Willow demanded, clawing at Angelus’ arm, "It was an accident!"

He tutted, holding the girl up so her red face was just below his chin, "Lies do not become you, pet…because you wanted to save lover boy so much, now someone else will die."

"It’s not a lie!" she lied, trying furiously to grab the girl from Spike’s arms, "I won’t let you…let her go!"

He ignored her plea. "You should not have done that, my precious fire goddess, you’ll pay dearly…Tell me, my sweet," he said, now addressing Emily, "what is your name?"

‘Don’t fall for it…don’t play,’ Willow repeated over and over in her head, but the young girl still had so much trust for adults. She looked at him with shining eyes and answered obediently.

"Em-Emily," she stammered, hugging her stuffed cat to her person. The fear in her eyes alone was heart breaking, but the quivering of her body made Willow boil with rage.

"Well, Emily," he said sweetly, his arms locking around her head, "shall we teach little Willow a lesson together?"

"No!" Willow screamed.

The sound of the young girl’s neck snapping pierced the night air. Time seemed to slow as Spike released her petite body. She swayed as her dead eyes looked into nothing, dropping her toy. Slowly, her body followed and she hit the hard floor, causing dust to cloud around her and sending her limbs out in awkward directions. Willow longed to lay the girl out properly, not so she was almost impaled on her elbow. Not looking so…dead. But she snapped out of her shock with a start, as hot tears began to fall from her eyes

"Noooo," she moaned, her body going slack, "she didn’t…not her, she was…"

Willow broke down, her cries echoing throughout the alley, only to be drowned out by the din just beyond. Two vampires quickly dragged her screaming form away, leaving behind the woman searching needlessly for her daughter in the pandemonium, and a dead child staring unseeingly at her stuffed cat, who stared right back at her, its eyes holding the same glassy dullness.

*~*~*~*~*~*

"I am yours," Willow said in form of a greeting, and Spike smiled slightly.

"Nice one, pet," he scooped her up in his arms, "I got a surprise for you."

"A surprise?" she asked, "What kind of surprise?"

He grinned mysteriously, "A good surprise."

Willow bounced a bit in his arms, "You’re not going to tell me any more about it, are you?" she giggled nervously, knowing ‘good’ coming from Spike could mean very, very bad.

"Nope!" he agreed.

She glanced around the hallway as he carried her, unsure if she wanted to meet his eyes. It was decorated with the signature vampire colours, black and red. There were red roses in tall, black vases, and pressed velvet curtains decorated the walls. She reached for one of the curtains but he tucked the arm painfully and efficiently behind her back.

"Wouldn’t do that, my love," he said quietly, "it’s daylight out."

Willow leaned into his chest, watching the mauve carpet move beneath them. She felt him smell her hair and she nuzzled closer to him. Instead of his tweed suit that was now only brought out for more formal occasions, he wore casual clothes resembling those of a dock worker. They made him look untidy but they were always clean. His hair also had changed over the past few months. The foppish curls were gone, and had been replaced by slightly longer locks that he kept tied up in an old-fashioned ponytail at the base of his skull. He looked so…roguish.

"Here we are, love." Spike placed her on her feet. He then covered her eyes with the cool palms of his hands. "Don’t look until I tell you to. Got it?"

She nodded and bit her lip, half scared, half quivering with anticipation. He guided her through the door, and her senses came alive. The room was warm and the air was thick with some kind of sweet scent. She could hear shuffling or rustling coming from the floor, and she smiled. It was some kind of animal maybe? She began bouncing slightly again and he laughed, taking his hands away.

"Open ‘em up and look, my love!"

She complied and looked around excitedly expecting a puppy perhaps, but froze as her eyes rested on the man in front of her. He was tied up, a gag shoved into his mouth. His eyes swung wildly around the room, sweat dripping from his forehead and into the wounds that covered his face. He wore high society clothes, but they were dirty, and the bags below his eyes suggested the man had been there for maybe a few days.

Spike chuckled and wrapped his arms loosely around her waist, but she struggled out of them and ran forward to kneel at his side. He was handsome under the blood, only about thirty years old. And although she was certain she hadn’t met him before, he sparked a memory in her. It was a very vague one, vaguer than Sunnydale, but still in her mind he was familiar.

"Spike!" she whispered, pulling the gag out of his mouth which was flecked with blood, "What have you done?!"

She proceeded to use the dry part of the gag to clean his face, carefully avoiding any cuts. He flinched at her touch, but didn’t move away. She could tell he wanted to say something but his throat was too raw, or he was too traumatised. She couldn’t tell which.

"It’s a present, my love."

"A present?!" she almost shouted, "This is a human being!"

"Not just any, pet," he said proudly, "A poet. Francis William…something or other…"

"Bourdillian?" she finished, feeling faint. He was one of the poets she and William had loved when he was human, but he wasn’t that famous yet. She remembered his picture from a book she had gotten out from the library her senior year of high school, which she had never returned.

"That’s the fella."

"Spike," she wailed, "you have no idea what you’ve done…every time you do something different, something for me, you damage the timeline irreparably…"

"Enough with the time travel bollocks. I thought you’d be pleased," he pouted, sounding angry, "I did it for you. I love…"

"Just stop it!" She stood up and whirled around, "All these games, this-this depravity won’t make me love you!"

"You will love me, pet…" he said dangerously.

"No!" Willow screamed, "I hate you! I’ll always hate you! You’re nothing but a disgusting…"

He jumped on her, grabbing her shoulders and slamming her head into the floor. She cried out but he simply delivered a hard blow to her cheek, leaving her barely conscious. He began tearing at her clothes, and without warning undid his pants and shoved himself deep inside of her. Willow screamed but he simply slammed her head into the floor again.

"Say you love me!" he panted, moving in and out of her faster. She just shook her head as she sobbed, and he began crying too. "You do love me," he demanded thickly, "I’d do anything…my love."

Willow thrashed around, but he was too strong for her. His nails dug into her scalp as he forced her into a kiss that left blood on her lips. Soon he was coming inside her with a growl, his game face on and his fangs buried in her shoulder.

"Calm," he whispered, stroking her face "my beautiful…Love me?"

"No," she whispered hoarsely.

He wept as he grabbed her shoulders and began slamming her head into the floor over and over. Spike’s face soon disappeared and she heard a sickening crunch, then she blacked out. Mercifully, she blacked out.

~Part: 18~

"Miss?"

There was a pounding, a vicious pounding in the back of her skull. Her brain was on fire. It seemed to be throbbing and twisting, trying to worm its way out of her ears and eye sockets. She moved but an electric like shock through her collarbone made her inhale sharply and her eyes flew open.

"Miss?" the voice asked again. She looked toward the man, who appeared to be the same poet as before. He was still tied up, but much less scared and unhealthy looking. He was giving her a once over, concern evident on his face, and she used her uninjured arm to pull down her skirts embarrassedly.

"Mr. Bourdillian?" she queried hoarsely, closing her eyes against the light that was making them sting.

"Shh, now, it’ll be alright," he soothed, "How are you feeling?"

"I’m…" she coughed, "a little parched, to tell you the truth."

He chuckled, "Well, I would get you something to drink, but I’m still a little, er…"

Willow opened her eyes again and saw that he was still bound tightly with ropes. She sat up quickly, and gasped in pain. He tried to assist her, but he was still immobile in his demeaning position. She used the arm that didn’t hurt like buggery to inspect the back of her head. It was a little bloody and sore, but her skull wasn’t cracked. Her collarbone, on the other hand, appeared to be fractured, although not completely snapped. She felt dizzy but she didn’t give into it, instead she turned slightly to the young poet.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice clearer.

He suddenly looked ashamed, his voice becoming low and self-depreciating. "The man…he…violated you. I’m sorry…I couldn’t…"

"Hey, no, don’t worry," the pain in her crotch sharpening with his words, "it doesn’t matter, honestly, I…we were together before."

His eyes widened, but he said nothing more about the subject. "You’ve been out for about twenty-four hours, I think. The man…he was angry, stormed about the place, and then knocked me unconscious. I woke up a few hours ago and called out, but nobody answered. Usually the men with the deformed faces come in and tell me in less than polite terms to be quiet…"

"They’re gone?" she asked quietly, noticing suddenly that sunlight was streaming through the windows which were now uncovered. She stood, ignoring the pain that spread over her shoulder and the burning between her legs. The windows were wide and she gazed, open mouthed, into the garden. It was a warm summer afternoon, the birds were making shrill noises outside and the crickets were chirping happily. The sky was blue, not a cloud in sight, and it made tears well up in her eyes.

"Oh, my," she breathed, pressing both hands to the warm window, "It’s beautiful."

"Isn’t it, though? I feel like I haven’t seen daylight for months." His statement almost made bitter laughter flow from her throat, but it also snapped her out of her reverie and she turned to face him with a soft smile on her face.

"Here, let me help you with those ropes."

Willow searched a nearby drawer for some kind of sharp implement. She found a seemingly solid gold letter opener, and its presence confused her. Surely they would take a valuable item with them? But as she picked it up, she noticed a piece of folded parchment that it had been resting on and picked it up with trembling fingers.

"Miss?"

"I’m Willow," she replied absently, unfolding the parchment gently.

Willow,

You’re free now. Is it everything you’d hoped?

I’m not sorry for what I put you through, you

put me through much worse. I thought I would

be happier as a demon, but now I would trade

anything to be human again. If you cared about

me at all, come to our mansion on Inglewood…

I’m sure your poet friend will give you directions.

William W.

She read the letter three times. Why did he think she would come there? Because he knew her, that’s why. He knew she would come back to him, if only for an explanation. But she also knew him. If he wanted to hurt her, he would have taunted her into coming, not given her the freedom to choose. Still, she had to go to him; she had to talk to him. First, however, there was some other business to be taken care of.

"Willow?"

"Oh, sorry," she blushed, kneeling down, and soon the rope was a tangled mess on the floor.

"Miss Willow, I insist you stay with my family and I until you are in good health. Please, it’s the least I can do."

"That won’t be necessary…I just need to get to a doctor…oh, and could you take me to Inglewood?"

*~*~*~*~*~*

It was nearly sunset as Willow hobbled down the street alone, still revelling in the light. The warm orange of the sun beat down the memories of cold and pain. Her injured shoulder had been safely bandaged, only hurting slightly as her awkward steps made her bones shudder.

The young poet had tried to convince her to stay with him, and she had wanted to. The opportunities to learn about his history were mind-blowing, but she needed to go home, her real home. Begrudgingly, he had taken her to the market place so she could pick up the ingredients for the spell home. It was there she had found some cheap wooden quills, sharp but extremely splintered. She bought them quickly with money Francis had leant her and shoved them into her purse, hiding them from curious eyes.

Willow reached Inglewood from the directions Francis had given her, and it turned out to be a very large mansion. It was dark and foreboding, but Willow didn’t bat an eye at it. She made her way up the path and knocked lightly on the door. It opened instantly to reveal him; the man, and the monster that had plagued her thoughts, dreams, life…everything. Her mouth opened of its own accord.

"I am yours," she said, and the vampire looked pained.

"No, you’re not, pet," Spike said quietly, leaning on the doorframe.

She blinked at him, her eyes taking in his haggard appearance. "So, Spike, why did you go?"

He shrugged, the deadly sun staying just outside the door. "There’s some trouble with Darla. Apparently Dru had a vision that she was getting infected or something. We leave for India tonight.

"Why are you going without me?" she asked quietly, clutching her purse to her side.

"I dunno," he seemed to be trying not to cry, "I guess I want you to be mine."

"I am…"

"All mine," he amended, "Don’t want you half there, looking at me blank-like. I thought I could settle for part of you," he shrugged again, "turns out I can’t. And I can’t have all of you, only my sodden human self could."

"Oh, Spike," she breathed, "I’m…"

"Well, you should be! Making me feel this way, it’s a bloody crime, it is! Look, don’t want your sympathy, I just want your effing love. But that’s not what your offerin’, is it?"

She shook her head sadly, "I wish I could, honestly. Can’t you just…forget about me? Why don’t you and Drusilla…"

"Cor, Willow, what is it with you, an’ me, an’ sodding Dru?" he asked incredulously, "She hates you, y’know, wants you dead."

Willow couldn’t help but feel a little hurt by that statement, Spike seemed to notice and he grinned. "Wanna come inside?" he asked, just as the sun set.

She bit her lip, "Alright."

Spike stepped aside to let her through. She ignored him as he inhaled deeply, letting his hand trail over her hip. Willow wandered into the nearest room, its dark coolness making her shiver. He wrapped his arms around her from behind and nuzzled her neck. For some reason, she didn’t step away, nor did she protest. The atmosphere was suddenly heavy as he dragged her slowly to a sofa. He sat and pulled her gently down with him so she sat across his lap. His lips brushed her cheek and she closed her eyes, twisting her head slightly so their lips met in a chaste kiss. Spike groaned and deepened the kiss, his tongue tracing the outline of her lips before gaining access and slipping inside.

He was lost in the scent of her. The demon was quiet inside of him, his human side determined to be gentle with her. He was content not to make her scream, content not to mark her. His hands were achingly soft as he unlaced her dress. His mouth, which was now latched onto her neck, was making her quiver. He slid her dress off with care, but he paused when she gasped in pain, dipping his head to place a kiss on her delicate shoulder.

She turned fully to straddle him, kissing him on the lips, and wrapping her uninjured arm around his neck. Her dress was hanging uselessly from her frame, the top of her breasts just bared to him, but he wanted to see all of her. As if reading his thoughts, she slipped off his lap and tugged her dress down so it pooled at her feet, then let her underwear join it on the floor.

Spike stared. It had seemed such a long since he’d seen her body in all its naked glory, her figure a bluish hue from the moonlight that reflected off her skin. Willow sat on top of him, as he continued to stare. She smiled down at Spike and his erection became painfully hard It had been too long since he’d seen her smile, a true smile that lit up her face and made her eyes glow. She took the initiative and pulled the suspenders from his shoulders so they rested beside his lap. The redhead then undid the buttons of his shirt, her fingers shaking as she popped out the last one and pushed the garment from his body.

Her fingers were quick and light as she massaged the contours of his chest. Her nails lightly grazed his nipples making him purr gently, that purr becoming a growl when she lowered her head to take one in her mouth. His hand drifted between her thighs and he began stroking her already wet core with his fingers. There was no teasing in his touch. He could feel and smell the results from his previous assault on her and knew this would be painful for her if he took it too fast.

Willow mewled and began rocking, feeling the all too familiar hot throb between her folds. Moving her hand up to grip his now longish curls in her fist, she was surprised at how soft they still were. The strands tickled her palm and she tilted his head back to place long, hot kisses along the tendons of his neck. He closed his eyes and concentrated hard on her soft lips, memorising every feeling, every sensation, every tingle she was creating. She started guiding his head to her lips but let go, instead opting to undo his pants. His erection was soon in her hand, her long fingers doing things to him that he could never forget. He was always amazed how such long-fingered hands could be so feminine. But he soon realised that bigger was better, especially where foreplay was concerned.

"Spike, I want you…inside of me."

"Call me William," he almost begged, but she just shook her head.

"I’m not having sex with William; I’m having sex with Spike, the demon. Remember?"

This statement made him feel indescribably happy, and he grinned before positioning himself beneath her entrance and letting his cock slide into her slick opening. She gasped, and they both shared a long drawn-out moan as Willow sunk down to the hilt. Stopping for a moment and revelling in how good it felt to be a part of someone physically, Willow raised herself up again and sunk back down.

This started a rhythm that soon had them moving in synchronisation, his fingers pressing down hard on her waist and guiding her hips up and down his shaft. She rolled her hips in an attempt to get more friction on the tiny bundle of nerves that was crying out for attention. Spike answered this by putting a satisfying pressure on it with his hand and rotating his fingers in a slow, clock-wise motion.

She kissed him slowly, passionately, before breaking away and pressing her forehead to his, gasping in much needed air. He watched in awe as she froze and shuddered, and for once in his life he cursed the orgasm that was making his own body quake because he couldn’t stop his eyes from slamming shut. Her cries were mind-numbing, though so beautiful and arousing that if he weren’t still riding off his own endless climax, he would have taken her again, and again.

Willow stood on shaky legs and reached for her purse, but not before placing a lingering kiss on his forehead which he accepted with closed eyes. He stood too, in all his bareness, the very picture of desperation.

"No, don’t go! I won’t let you…"

"Spike," she said warningly, tears evident in her voice as she kept her naked back to him.

"No! I was a fool to let you go! You’ll never leave me again, I swear it…"

"Spike," she repeated softly, turning around with her injured arm by her waist. Her other hand reached out to run her fingers through his hair. He closed his eyes and purred, tears falling down her face as she watched him.

"Willow, what…?"

"Shh," she whispered, her face inches from his, "shh…"

Her fingers trailed over his lips before she put her own lips in their place, delivering a slow, sweet kiss that made them both fuzzy inside. More tears ran in thick rivulets down her cheeks, as Spike studied her curiously.

"What’s wrong, pet? Are you staying?" he asked softly, his eyes wide and searching.

She nodded, forcing a wet smile, "Yes…close your eyes, Spike…"

"You’re staying?" he asked eagerly, "Pet, that’s just…"

"Shh," she said serenely, "Close your eyes."

He let his lids fall and Willow barely held back a sob before placing a short kiss on his mouth, her tears mingling with their saliva. She let her head rest on his shoulder, inhaling his smell for the last time.

"I love you," she whispered, before plunging the stake into his chest.

There was no look of pain or betrayal on his face, only rapturous joy that soon crumbled with the rest of his body. The grey dust fluttered slowly to the ground, but Willow did not stick around to watch it fall. Her face was clenched in the effort of not caring as she fled out the door, unconscious of the clothes still in a rumpled heap on the floor. She ran, till sweat poured down her face and her muscles screamed. Tears flowed, she wiped them away and still they flowed, she hit them away, but still they kept coming.

The redhead finally reached her destination and fell to her knees. She grabbed a nearby container and began pouring salt in a hasty pentacle around her, and then she lay out the candles at each element.

"Humus…aquilo…ignis…aqua…" Willow mumbled while lighting each candle.

‘Come on, Willow, you can do this,’ she cheered herself on, doing everything in her power not to think about the pile of ash that had been her lover.

~Part: 19~

She began chanting, ignoring the dull ache that filled her heart. "Abandon laws of space and time," She sprinkled the Taola leaf on the flames of each candle. "Bring me to the date I seek to find, and as I quote the verse of three, drag me there…and mote it be. Dimitto…ipse…deorsum… dimitto…ipse…deorsum… Dimitto…ipse…DEORSUM!"

The sudden energy literally tugged her to her feet, her body strained towards the sky as tears poured from her colourless eyes. This was stronger than before, it felt like electricity was shooting through her veins, like she was aging incredibly fast. She looked at her wrinkled hands, then watched as they shrunk and became tiny and delicate. She screamed and threw up, but it was too late for the spell to be broken.

"So mote it BE!" she gurgled, feeling her skin grow ice cold, then white-hot.

Then, she was gone, a small crater in her wake. But apart from that, there was no evidence that Willow Bloodeneen, the young poetry teacher, the ex-barmaid, the infamous Scourge of Europe’s only love, had ever existed there. Nor anywhere else.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Willow continued to wail as she felt detached from her skin, then it was too tight and she burst, feeling near death she landed heavily on a bed and cried out in shock. Her ears were ringing and she couldn’t see straight, but after lying there for a few moments, she could breathe again. And with that came the power of sight. She raised her head to look around the room and shuddered. It reminded her of her room with the vampire trio, no lights, no windows. Except this one had more qualities of a cell, with only one bed and a door. She pushed away thoughts of William and Spike, forcing the rage and bitterness that came with that thought.

‘Don’t remember,’ she willed herself, ‘don’t think, don’t remember, don’t think, don’t think…’

Willow looked down at her body and yelped, looking around desperately for cover. She had been so used to nakedness that she hadn’t noticed it first. No clothes seemed to be the number two rule at the house of Aurelius, right after no escape.

‘Don’t think, don’t remember…’

But her lack of clothing made her notice something. The pendant was gone. In its place was a large, deep, but healing, scar. She looked at the raw skin in wonder, touching it gingerly, which made her whimper and giggle softly at the same time. ‘It must have been part of the spell…a clause.’ The thought that she could have gotten out of this made her blink and put those memories away deep into her mind so she could never recall her stupidity ever again.

She gazed around and realised with a start this was the exact room she had done the spell in what seemed like decades ago. Then she realised with another start that she had materialised exactly where she had been performing the spell, right near the leaf-shaped hole in the floor. Her spider-sense tingling, she crept slowly out of the bed and approached the door, surprised to find it unlocked. She twisted the knob and peeked into the hallway.

Vampires. Dozens and dozens of vampires, lurking about and chatting casually. She closed the door and, the impact of her situation not quite hitting her, leaned against it and laughed. Denim, some of them were wearing denim! Dirty denim, light denim…and corduroy! She never knew she would miss corduroy so much, but there it was, in an unattractive shade of brown, attached to a particularly evil looking vampire. A girl vampire! Wearing pants, not huge flowing skirts, but loose, comfortable pants. She opened it again, only to get another beautiful glimpse, but a vamp saw her at it and slammed the door in her face.

In her weakened state, she still knew she would have to get out of there. What they had planned for her was probably not a new pair of clothes and a ride home.

"Home," she said quietly, shivering in anticipation at the thought.

But if she wanted to, she would have to think fast. Her mind immediately remembered a spell she had learnt, which was strange, because she usually had a hard time holding onto her memories. But this one came like it had happened yesterday. Willow shrugged, and began her meditation. It was a seemingly slow process, but it really only took a few minutes. By the time she was almost done, ten vampires strode in and caught her in her incriminating position, her body humming with magic.

"What the…" one of the vamps began, but he stopped when he caught sight of her eyes, deep pools of black that shone evilly.

"Commoveo!" she yelled, smiling in grim satisfaction as she popped out of existence. The power of her spell sent a shock wave of artificial sunlight, turning each vampire to dust.

‘Don’t think, don’t think, don’t remember…’

*~*~*~*~*~*

She didn’t land with a thump, she stumbled though, right into a clothesline.

"Oof!" she muttered, suddenly conscious of the cool darkness of the night and the fact she was naked, "it took me some place centred around my thoughts! Giles would love this!"

She grabbed a large nightgown and a pair of boxer shorts. They were the only things on the line, but she pulled them on gratefully. Happy to be wearing clothes that didn’t bruise her or cut of her air supply. Willow felt tired, but that didn’t stop her excitement when she discovered she recognised the garden she was in. She was on Crawford Street, right near Angel’s old mansion.

‘Don’t think…’

It was odd how the memories filled her brain, no longer was she looking at Sunnydale through a glass of vaseline, but a clear light. And she laughed joyously as she jogged through the familiar street, the memories bombarding her like individual hits of happiness. She had worked up quite a speed by the time she reached the Magick Box, but she faltered, only for a second.

< But you have to prepare yourself, Willow. You will get back, but you may not like what you find. >

‘Don’t remember, don’t remember…’

Willow opened the door, light hitting her like a warm embrace. The sight of her friends, sitting around the round table, books cluttering up the table, brought tears to her eyes. They all turned to look at her, their brows furrowed.

"Willow?"

She stepped forwards tentatively, "Guys? I…"

"What’s this, then?"

‘Don’t think, don’t…’

She turned, the voice hitting her like a thousand arrows. It was him…Spike. Confusion washed over her in waves, but also the deepest love. It swamped her and tears poured down her cheeks. He looked a little startled, but she ignored that and reached out to touch him. Her hand pressed against the left side of his chest, and she only felt cool flesh and an un-beating heart. She laughed quickly and pressed her other hand to her mouth.

"What are you doing?" he asked, studying her curiously.

"Checking…just…just checking something…" her breath was short, but he barely acknowledged this as he batted her hand away, a half-smirk playing at his mouth.

"Oh really?" he mocked.

Willow held her hand as if it had been stung, and Spike backed away from her…right in the waiting arms of Drusilla. Her chin rested on his shoulder, her grin sadistic and sweet.

"Silly tree, touching what does not belong to her. What a pity, what a shame," the mad vampire sang, before vamping out and lunging at Willow’s frozen form.

‘Don’t remember…’

The End

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