Author: Inell

Disclaimer: Joss owns them all

Distribution: My site, Kiss or Kill, http://members.fortunecity.com/kissorkill Anyone that has permission, take. Otherwise, just ask.

Rating: R <For violence and sex>

Pairing: Willow/Spike

Notes1: This is going to be a darker fic. Consider yourself warned.

Notes2: This fic picks up after Halloween during Season 2 in my own verse.

To Anastasia~For being an inspiration and for giving that slap whenever I need it. Hope you enjoy :)

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~Part: 1~

"Hi honey, I'm home," Buffy said with a smile as she began to hit Spike. He fought her as she kicked and punched, finally sending him to the ground. She lifted him to his feet, smiling as she said, "You know what? It's good to be me."

She hit him again before pushing him against the wall with all of her strength. Buffy watched Spike leave the warehouse, a triumphant yet tired smile on her face. She looked at her friends, moving towards them.

"Hey, Buff. Welcome back!" Xander said with a dazed look in his brown eyes.

"Yeah, you too," Buffy replied.

"You guys remember what happened?" Cordelia asked, relieved to see that Buffy was no longer the clinging wimp that she had been not five minutes before.

"It was way creepy," Xander said making a face, "like I was there, but I couldn't get out."

Cordelia looked at Angel, giving him her most flirtatious smile, "I know the feeling. This outfit is totally skin tight...."

Angel ignored her, moving towards Buffy, "You okay?"

"Yeah," she smiled at him as he took her arm and moved her towards the door.

"Hello? It felt like I was talking," Cordelia said, staring after them in disbelief, "My lips were moving."

"Give it up, Cordy," Xander said, rolling his eyes. "You're never going to get between those two. Believe me, I know."

Cordelia sighed before turning, looking at all the trick or treaters, "I guess we should get them back to their parents."

"Yeah, it seems like everybody is..." Xander stopped as he looked around, realizing someone was missing, "Where's Willow?"

~Part: 2~

Willow sat up slowly, looking around and realizing that she was back on Mrs. Parker's porch. The spell must have ended. She had been at some warehouse, standing beside Xander as he had aimed his gun at Spike, then whoosh, she was back on the porch. She got to her feet, leaving the sheet on the porch. She glanced at her costume then back at the sheet. With a small smile, she turned and walked down the stairs. She needed to find her friends, make sure they were okay.

********

That damn bitch had beat him, again. Spike ran the back of his hand over his mouth, tasting the coppery taste of his own blood. He had almost had her this time. He had been so close, only to have victory rudely taken away. He had no idea what had caused the slayer to be so weak, but he'd loved it. The scent of her fear, the knowledge that her life was in his hands. It had been the most fun he'd had in weeks. Now, she was probably laughing about it with the wanker. He still couldn't believe that Angelus was fighting with her, soul or no soul. That made him even more angry than losing this round to the bottled blonde bitch. He'd hoped to give her to Drusilla as a prezzie, something to cheer his sire up. Since Prague, she'd been so weak. A slayer would have made a nice pick me up. Now, he was going back to tell her that he'd lost another round with the bitch.

Spike tossed his cigarette to the ground as he kicked a trash can. He smiled at the noise, wishing it were the slayer's bony ass he was kicking. What really bothered him the most was that she wasn't all that good. Sure, she could fight. But, all slayers could fight. If it hadn't been for her little group of followers and his damn grandsire, he could have had her before whatever spell she was under had worn off. No, he couldn't get lucky. Someone, somewhere always saw to that. He'd come to this town to fix Drusilla, get his Princess back. Now, he knew he wouldn't be leaving until the slayer was defeated. Third time was the charm, after all. The previous two slayers that he'd killed had been fun to play with, but they'd died rather easily. This bitch was going to be tough. Of course, killing her wasn't the only solution to his problem. Torture might be nice. Get the blood back in Dru's cheeks.

Of course, if their fights always ended with him losing, it was going to get old pretty fast. He wasn't the most patient man, already getting bored with this stupid town and the idiots that lived there. He wanted to win, damn it. It was now a matter of pride. He wanted that scrawny ass bitch telling everyone that he was better than her, that he was a winner. Let's see if Angelus looked at him with disgust when the slayer lost. He frowned as he realized that thinking of beating the bitch wasn't helping his mood. She'd hit him pretty hard, drawing blood and knocking him against the wall. Had he been weak, he might be in pain. Instead, he was just angry. He wanted to kill something, he decided. Find some nice little girl for a spot of torture and then dinner. He could bring his Princess some take out.

He turned down a tree lined street, his eyes looking around in disgust. This town was supposed to be the mouth to hell, yet it seemed more like Hell itself to him. The stench of demons, the stupidity of everyone around him, the damn slayer. It all made for a right horrid little nightmare. Only good thing seemed to be that Drusilla was improving slightly. She was starting to get back to her normal self, the moments of clarity increasing. She still hadn't told him exactly why they were there, telling him to trust the stars. That was a joke. He didn't trust anyone or anything. A flash of red suddenly caught his attention. His blue eyes narrowed as he saw a girl walking on the other side of the street ahead of him. She looked familiar, he realized. He studied her for a moment before he remembered where he had seen her. This was too perfect, he decided. The slayer's little friend from earlier at the warehouse. Poor little Red, all by herself, no slayer to protect her from the big bad wolf. At the moment, he couldn't torture the slayer, but maybe she'd feel it if he fucked with her little friend. A wicked gleam entered his eyes as he smiled. He began to whistle softly as he crossed the street, following after the redhead. It seemed that today might just be his lucky day after all.

~Part: 3~

Willow stopped at the corner of Park and Cherry, a thoughtful look crossing her pretty face. If she turned left, she'd end up walking towards the warehouse district where she had last seen her friends. If she turned right, she'd be headed towards their neighborhood. She glanced at her wrist, cursing softly when she remembered that she had removed her watch at Buffy's insistence that it did not go with her costume. She had no idea how long it been since she had been transformed back into her original costume. She seriously doubted that the gang had remained at the warehouse after finishing the fight with Spike, but there was a slight chance that they had waited for her to join them.

If she went to the warehouse, though, and they had left, it would end up taking her at least an hour round trip to end up back where she could have gone in the first place. Of course, if she went to Buffy's house and the slayer wasn't home, she'd end up taking even longer in the end. It was times like this that she wished Buffy wore some sort of tracking device. Smiling at that thought, Willow shook her head as she looked down one street then down the other. That might make an interesting Christmas gift, she decided. A two way radio for patrol might be good. She mentally added that to her Christmas list, deciding that she could invest in six of them, give one to each of the group for times that they were separated and such. She could probably find some pretty good ones on sale after Thanksgiving.

Her attention was drawn to a group of children laughing as they came down the street. Their costumes were cute, their happiness evident. A nostalgic smile crossed her face as she remembered being like them not many years ago. She, Xander and Jesse had loved Halloween, never knowing the danger that existed when they had been out alone. When they had been younger, Jesse's Mom had taken them out. But, by the time they were eight, they were old pros and roaming the streets alone. Knowing now what lurked in the shadows of Sunnydale, Willow had no idea how they had survived. They'd just been lucky, she guessed. Flashing back on Jesse as she had last seen him, she sighed, knowing that his lucky had finally run out during their fifteenth year. She pushed those memories from her mind, concentrating on the present.

She tugged at her skirt as she stood, still contemplating which road to take. She should have brought her sheet, she decided as the wind chilled her. It was getting colder the later it got, and her short skirt and halter top provided very little protection from the wind. How had she let Buffy talk her into wearing this get up? While she could admit that she looked better than she might have imagined, it just wasn't really her. She did like the boots, though. She finally made her decision, deciding that Buffy must surely be home by now. If she knew her best friend, the blonde would already have changed and would probably be flirting with Angel. Her decision made, she turned to the right, taking a few steps before she heard it. Leaves rustling.

She looked around, not seeing anything. It must have been the wind. She frowned as she began to walk, holding her arms across her chest as she rubbed them for warmth. She might just go home, change into something comfortable and call Buffy. That would be better than taking a chance of disturbing Buffy if Angel was over. Besides, after fighting Spike, Buffy was probably pretty tired. She'd just go home and call her friends, let them know she was fine, make sure they were okay. She moved towards the edge of the sidewalk as another group of trick or treaters passed by, her foot stepping onto the grass as they pushed past her. She waited until they had passed before moving back onto the sidewalk. Before she could take a step, she felt someone behind her. A hand moved around her neck. She started to scream only to find another hand covering her mouth. She heard a chuckle in her ear as some man whispered the words Too easy and then everything went dark.

~Part: 4~

Spike smiled as he stepped behind the girl, his hand taking hold of her neck as he pulled her back against him. "Too easy," he whispered as he caught her scream, squeezing slightly with his right hand until she collapsed against him. He picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder. She was lighter than he'd figured, delicate little thing. If he weren't careful with her, she might break. He laughed as he made his way back to the lair. Couldn't have her breaking yet. He had plans for this little girl. He'd even added a few things after she'd spent nearly ten minutes standing at the damn corner. He'd almost made his move then, tired of standing around idle. He had been good, though, knowing that the area was too bright, a bigger chance of being seen. He didn't want anyone to know he had Red until he was ready. This time, everyone would be playing by his rules.

His left hand searched his pockets for a cigarette, finally finding his last one. He'd gone through an entire pack that day. He'd promised Dru he'd try to cut back, knowing that she wasn't fond of the smell, so he tried to smoke mostly when he was out hunting. He paused as he lit his Marlboro, inhaling deeply before letting out the smoke. Smoking did absolutely nothing for him if he were honest. He couldn't even stand the taste. But, it relaxed him. It gave him something to do with his hands. It calmed him sometimes. He could quit tomorrow, but it was habit now. At the moment, it was quieting his demon who wanted nothing more than to hurt the redhead for what the slayer had done. He was trying to be smart, trying not to give into the need for blood so quickly. It wouldn't be nearly as fun as playing with her.

Angelus had taught him well. Taught him to enjoy the anticipation, to savor the experience. He usually didn't waste the time anymore in all honesty. He'd beat 'em, bite 'em then kill 'em. This girl, though, he wanted to enjoy. For every thing the slayer had done to him, he'd make Red suffer twice as much. His lips curled into a smirk as he debated what all he would do to her. He wanted her chained up and bleeding, screaming for mercy on deaf ears. She was such a little thing, it probably wouldn't take many lashes from his whip before she was begging for her life. He was planning on leaving his mark on her, something to remind the slayer constantly of her inability to protect those she loved. He could use the new knife that Drusilla had bought him in Prague, before everything went to hell over there. He could imagine the smooth blade of the knife on her pale skin, the screams coming from her pretty lips as her blood began to flow. He groaned softly at the image, yellow flashing in his eyes as he found himself almost being able to taste her sweet blood.

He didn't plan on killing the girl. Of course, when he was through with her, she might be praying for death. Death would be nothing, far too easy. There was no fun in that, no challenge. Any fledge could kill. It took a true master to torture without the death, to know the limits and the boundaries. Besides, he wanted her to know the cost of being the slayer's little friend, to rue the day she ever helped the blonde bitch. He remembered her pointing him out to the lanky boy with the gun, knew she had been there at the warehouse. She'd wish that she'd never been born when he was finished, he decided. She'd certainly wish she'd never heard of Buffy. See how the slayer bitch liked that. Losing her friend, not to death, but to fear. He saw a light shining from the warehouse window, wondering if Dru was back. He tossed the cigarette to the ground, stomping on it before moving to their lair. Yet another thing he hated about this damn town. A smelly old warehouse as their base of operations. He couldn't wait to leave this place. He glanced at the girl, wondering how long she'd be unconscious. He frowned impatiently as he realized that he'd have to wait on her, again. His eyes narrowed in anger as he pushed open the door. She'd better not be out long. It was time to play.

~Part: 5~

Spike kicked the warehouse door shut behind him, looking around the vast empty space. He heard rats scurrying, their tails scraping against the pipes. He hated this place. It was drafty and dirty and disgusting. They were hiding though. Couldn't hide very well in a nice clean house in the suburbs. Though, with the amount of demons that lurked in these abandoned warehouses, a house might be the last place the stupid slayer would think of looking. Decided that he'd broach the subject of finding a house for the remainder of their with his sire, he began the walk to their shared quarters. He could smell her scent, knew that she had again stayed in for the evening.

He adjusted the little redhead on his shoulder, worry for his sire in his blue eyes. She had be so weak since Prague. Even when she fed, she never seemed to gain any strength. He had hoped that being on the Hellmouth would help her, that the power of the portal would be what she needed. So far, it hadn't. While she was slowly regaining some of her strength, she was nowhere near what she had been before. That stupid doll of hers had said that they needed Angelus for her to be strong again. Personally, he wished he'd let that damn mob have Miss. Edith. Why they needed that souled bastard was beyond his comprehension. Of course, as much as he hated having to admit it, the silly doll was usually right. That meant playing nice with Peaches. Well, that or forcing him to help. Spike felt a smile cross his face at the latter idea.

He stepped into the room, seeing Drusilla laying on the bed, her eyes looking at the ceiling. He asked softly, "Have you eaten, luv?"

Drusilla smiled but did not look at him, "You've brought us a prezzie, haven't you? A sweet innocent little prezzie to unwrap and play with."

"Yeah, I brought a prezzie, Princess," he said, tossing the redhead to the floor carelessly. He moved to the bed, his eyes softening, "You didn't answer me, Dru. Have you eaten tonight?"

"Not hungry," she said, turning her head to look at him. She touched his face, her eyes clouding, "That nasty old slayer hurt you again, didn't she?"

"Yeah, the bitch got lucky," he said with a sneer. "But I took something that belonged to her so I'd say we're even."

Drusilla smiled as she outlined his lips with her finger, "I can feel your anger, my boy. Such wonderful anger. The power is barely restrained. May I see my prezzie?"

"She's down there," he said, nodding towards the floor. "One of the slayer's little shadows. Small little thing, probably not much of a challenge, but it will make that bottle blonde bitch hurt so what the hell?"

Drusilla crawled down the bed, looking over the edge at the redhead laying on the floor. She reached over and moved the girl's head, her fingers tracing the lines of the pretty face. "Pretty."

"Guess so," he snarled, having not paid much attention. "If you're into weak little humans. I just want to hear her scream, pet."

Drusilla's eyes clouded as she rested her palm on the redhead's forehead. She pulled her hand away, a small smile crossing her lips as she said, "Not so weak. This one is the slayer's best friend."

"Reason I took her, luv," he said, shrugging his leather duster off before kicking off his boots. "Hurting her will hurt the slayer."

"May I watch you play?" Drusilla asked, tearing her eyes from the pretty redhead's face to look at her childe. "I love to watch you play."

"Of course, Princess," he assured her with an easy smile, "you can even play too."

She shook her head, glancing at the girl, "No, this is your game to play. I will watch."

"Whatever," he said, moving to her side. "If you're going to watch, you need your strength. You need to eat something."

"Princess is hungry," she said, giving him a playful smile as she moved up and caught his lips. Spike pushed her away for a minute as he bit into his tongue, kissing her again as he fed her, shoving the girl out of the way as he moved closer to his sire.

~Part: 6~

Willow was aware of the throbbing first. It was a terrible ache radiating throughout her entire head and down her neck. She grimaced as she swam through the pain back into consciousness. She kept her eyes closed, knowing somehow that opening them would make the pain intensify. After she had finally gained a grasp on her headache, she slowly opened one eye the shut it again, trying to block what she had seen. She had to be having a nightmare, she rationalized to herself. She tried to move her arms but found that they were restrained above her head. She heard the clang of chains from her efforts, the sound taunting her incapacitated state. She felt her arms tense in protest of her actions, seemingly weak from holding her body for who knew how long.

Willow moved her right foot, relieved in a way to find that it was not fastened down. She had a little freedom anyway. She tried the left after the right, noting that both feet were free of restraint. She had no idea where she was. All she could remember was walking home when someone had come behind her and then everything had gone black. Now, she was standing with her arms chained above her head. She could feel her clothes, so, thankfully, she was still dressed. Her shoes were gone, though, leaving her feet covered in thin black stockings. The floor was cold wherever she was, the bottoms of her feet almost numb from standing on the surface. She could feel something on the floor, dirt or grass or something that was poking through her stockings. She should have ignored Buffy and worn thick heavy socks instead of those silly thigh high stockings. But, thick socks did not match the rocker girl look that Buffy had been going through. Black silk did.

Before she could think of her situation any further, she felt someone kick the back of her knees hard, knocking her off balance. Her eyes flew open as she hung from the chains, her arms straining to keep her body balanced as she struggled to regain her footing. She gasped as her arms tried to support her full weight. Fingers wrapped in her long red hair as her head was pulled back, fear entering her eyes as she looked into a semi-familiar cold blue gaze.

"'Bout time you woke up," Spike said, his fingers tightening in her hair as he pulled her head further back, a sneer crossing his lips as he saw the pain in her green eyes, as he smelled the fear coming from her. "Starting to believe I'd kidnapped Sleeping Beauty or something."

It was then that gravity of her situation penetrated her mind. She hadn't merely been kidnapped by some demon or bad guy. No, she had been taken by Spike after he had been defeated by Buffy. He'd seen her that night, having made eye contact with her when she'd been helping Buffy. He'd frightened her then. Now, he scared her to death. She opened her mouth to ask what he had planned for her, but found that she had something gagging her. She'd been so caught up in the headache and the pain in her arms that she'd never even felt the material tied around her face. She gulped as she felt it rubbing against the sides of her mouth, biting down as she tried to get some sort of speech happening. It was no good. It had been tied tightly and blocked her from forming words. Instead, she was reduced to looking at Spike and remaining speechless.

"Looks like the little miss is all upset that she can't talk," he mocked, watching her face and clearly reading her thoughts. In her case, eyes were indeed the windows to the soul. "Don't worry, pet. I'll remove it in time to hear you scream."

"Her fear is so delicious," Drusilla spoke softly from the bed, her dark eyes watching the proceedings as a small smile remained on her lips. "Poor little kitten is scared, Spike."

"Good," he said, looking at his Princess and smiling before looking back at Willow as the smile faded. "Your bitch friend pissed me off tonight, Red. Take a guess who gets to suffer for that."

Willow's eyes closed as a wave of helplessness and anger spread over her. She didn't have to guess. She knew who he planned to use for revenge against Buffy. And for the first time since she had become friends with the slayer, Willow wished they'd never met.

~Part: 7~

"Look, Princess. I think she knows the answer," Spike said dryly before he released the girl's head. He kicked her legs again, a bit harder than before, watching as she struggled to stand. He felt a smile crossing his lips as he moved towards the table he had set up. This was going to be too much fun.

"She's a smart one, Spike," Drusilla agreed, moving to lay on the bed on her stomach, her chin resting in her hands as her eyes remained on Willow.

"I don't bloody care if she's a moron," Spike said, glaring at his sire as he tested the weight of the whip that he had picked up. "I just care about how loud she can scream," he continued as he swung his hand in the air, listening to the whooshing sound. This would work well, he decided. He set it down, moving to his sire. He bumped into the redhead on his way, chuckling as she remained standing this time. She was learning.

Willow watched as Spike leaned over and kissed the brunette that she assumed must be the Drusilla that she had heard about. She wondered if Buffy knew that she was missing. She somehow doubted it, knowing that her friend would assume she had made it home safely and was now sleeping. It would be early the next morning before anyone even knew she was gone, before they could begin searching. For all she knew, Spike had taken her away from Sunnydale when she had been knocked out. He was probably planning on killing her and leaving her body somewhere for Buffy. She hated the feeling of defeat that entered her head, knowing that even in the worst circumstances before, she'd maintained some sort of hope, some faith that Buffy would save her or that she'd save herself. Now, though, she felt at a loss. She was completely at Spike's mercy, and he knew it. Even if she somehow managed to get loose, she'd be facing two of the most sadistic vampires that had roamed Europe. She wasn't strong enough to kill one much less two. She was trapped.

Spike pulled back from Dru, smiling at his sire as he asked softly, "You okay, luv?"

Drusilla nodded as she smiled, "This is such fun."

"Just gonna get better," he promised as he pulled his shirt over his head, not wanting to ruin it with the little brat's blood. He walked back to her, wearing only his faded black jeans. He knew from experience that blood would wash out of those pretty easily. For some reason, it always ruined his shirts though. He didn't dwell on the reasons why as he saw her green eyes watching him warily, a bit of the earlier fight having left their depths.

Willow swallowed again as she saw his eyes. They were empty, completely void of any feelings except possibly anger. She steeled herself, waiting for him to shove her again, but he walked the other way. She relaxed her body slightly, crying out as his fist suddenly caught her in the side.

"Always be prepared for the unexpected, luv," he whispered with amusement before blowing her a kiss and moving behind her. "Your enemy is rarely going to be predictable. If he is, he's not a very challenging enemy."

Willow felt tears at the corner of her eyes as she struggled to breathe. The cloth in her mouth forcing it open was making her jaws ache, her head and the back of her neck were still throbbing, her arms were straining and becoming numb along with her feet, and now her side was hurt. She was tired and in pain and she knew it was only going to get worse. She should have stayed home and watched old horror movies. But, there was no reason to even dwell on that idea. She hadn't stayed home. She'd gone out and helped Buffy defeat a vampire that now had her completely at his mercy. And she knew she would suffer for her choice.

~Part: 8~

Spike surveyed the table that he had set up to the redhead's right while she had been unconscious. He had pulled out every toy that he could find in the dismal warehouse, having lost much of his own private collection in Prague. There hadn't been much. A couple of knives, a few whips, some other instruments that he could use if needed. He could be pretty creative when he wanted to be, but, right now, he just wanted to hear some screaming. He finally chose a small but sharp knife. He held it to the light, his blue eyes moving over the blade as he slowly smiled. This would work perfectly, he decided. He started towards the redhead.

Willow had twisted her body slightly to watch him, needing to know where he was at all times. If he was going to destroy her, she wanted to see him coming. Her eyes widened when she saw him pick up the knife. One part of her almost hoped he'd just kill her quickly, take her away from this private hell before he did whatever he might do. Another part of her rebelled at that idea, wanting to fight and scream and claw her way to freedom. She moved her gaze over the table, not having a good enough vantage point to see much of what covered the wooden surface. She stiffened as he moved behind her, that coldly amusing smile on his face chilling her far more than the floor.

"Time to start, luv," he said huskily, anticipation having built up over the nearly three hours she had been passed out. He licked his lips as the fingers of his left hand became tangled in her hair. He pushed her head forward suddenly, moving her long hair out of his way. While he found the idea of her hair brushing against her blood covered back rather arousing, it was just getting in the way at the moment. He felt her trying to fight him, his eyes narrowing in surprise. Oh well, it was usually more fun when they fought anyway.

Spike took the blade of the knife and moved it to the bottom of her skimpy black shirt. He ran it over the hem of the black cotton, grazing her skin slightly. Her fear was rolling off her in intoxicating waves. With a quick movement, he pulled the blade towards him, tearing the material. He smiled as it ripped, baring the first glimpse of her pale flesh. He kept her head bent down as he cut his way up the cloth, finally reaching the neck. He used the knife to cut the strap of her bra, rolling his eyes as he saw the plain white cotton. Seemed a bit too vanilla for Red, too common. He'd have thought maybe black lace or something tempting and naughty. She seemed to have a bit of fire in her since she was still struggling against his hand while he was behind her with a knife.

White cotton it was, though, not that he cared either way. He tossed the knife to the ground, finished with it for the time being. He moved back to the table, picking up the whip he had tested earlier. It was small but damaging. He knew that it would break her skin easily, going far more deep than one of the larger whips he had found. He stuck it in his back pocket as he moved behind her again. She was trying to watch him, her eyes accusing but scared. He again moved his left hand to her head, this time just holding her head so that she faced forward. His fingers moved along the scarf he had used as a gag as his right hand moved to lay on her back. He could feel her warmth as his fingers spread. He pushed the sides of her shirt forward, letting them hang around her shoulders. Her back was finally bared to his gaze.

Pale flesh dotted with freckles. Smooth, untouched, no scars. His thumb brushed over shoulder blade, feeling her jerk forward at the coolness of his touch. Or maybe it was just his touch, he thought with a smile. "You have a very beautiful back, Red. It's a blank canvas, so smooth and pale," he leaned over and brushed his lips over a spot below her neck, hearing her heart start to beat faster. His lips curved into a cunning smile as his hand found the whip. He moved his body slightly towards the side, his fingers untying the scarf, letting it fall to the ground at her feet. He moved his mouth beside her ear as he whispered, "You can scream now," just as his whip hit her skin.

~Part: 9~

Willow cried out as the whip hit her back, the force of his blow pushing her forward. She didn't scream, knowing that was what he wanted her to do. It hurt, though. That one blow made all the pain she had been feeling fade as her entire focus became her back. He hit her again, in a different place this time. She could feel him behind her, moving as he swung the whip. She felt his arm brush against her shoulder as his fingers continued their hold in her hair. He wasn't as cold as she might have imagined. She'd never touched Angel, not long enough to notice body temperature or lack thereof. She was cold, the room they were in having no real source of heat except the candles that covered several tables and dressers and a light burning overhead. Her feet were cold, her legs cold, now her back was bared and cold. She couldn't believe he had torn her shirt. Of course, since he planned to kill her most likely, she doubted her wardrobe really mattered all that much. She wondered if she was becoming hysterical. She was thinking about her torn shirt instead of concentrating on the fact that he was consistently beating her with a whip. Maybe she was in some sort of weird shock.

Spike frowned as he hit her again, putting more force into the blow. Still she didn't scream. He ran the whip over his tongue, tasting the first hint of her blood. His eyes moved to his sire who was watching with a small smile, her dark eyes on the redhead. He frowned at the look in her eyes, wondering why she was staring at the girl instead of him. He hit the redhead again, finally breaking the skin from the impact. That time she let out a soft cry. He smiled as he hit three more times, twice more breaking the skin. He saw the blood flowing, the scent heavenly. He leaned forward, running his tongue over one of the wounds. His eyes closed and he growled as it spilled onto his tongue. Pulling up, he hit again.

"It hurts, doesn't it, kitten?" Drusilla asked, a small smile on her pretty face as she watched the redhead drift off again. She watched her childe, having not seen that look in his eyes for quite some time. He was enjoying his game, liked playing with the pretty little girl. She had not seen him with such power since Prague, when he had slaughtered so many to save her. Her pretty boy. Since they had arrived in Sunnydale, he had been unhappy. She had sensed that unease, knew his dislike of the town, watched as he had become a growly bear. The slayer had not helped, defeating him several times in as many weeks. Had he not used so much energy saving her, helping her, he would have already killed the slayer. It was her fault, his recent unhappiness. She knew that he would deny that as any good childe would, but she knew.
She wanted him to be happy. Soon, they could leave this town. When she was strong again, they could travel. He'd always enjoyed travelling. For now, she could do what she could to make him tolerate his stay there.

Her eyes moved back to the girl as she watched her face. Such a pretty little kitten. She could not believe that anyone so sweet as her kitten would be friends with that nasty old slayer. But, the slayer's stench surrounded the girl. Faintly, though, Drusilla could also make out the scent of her sire, knew the girl had been around him recently. She sighed softly as she thought of her lovely Daddy, wondering why he had not come for tea. Her attention was drawn back to the redhead as she forgot about her sire for the time being. She saw green eyes flinch shut as the sound of the whip hitting flesh echoed in their room. Still, the redhead would not scream. Drusilla smiled, rather proud of her kitten. Spike was frowning, clearly not pleased that she was not begging and screaming. Her foolish childe was too cocky at times, too arrogant. He could not see the strength in this little girl as she could. He believed all humans to be frail and easily broken, as most of them were. This girl was not. She may be an innocent, but there was such spirit in her eyes.

Drusilla ran her tongue over her lips as the redhead cried out, the scent of blood in the air. She could also smell the scent of her childe's arousal, knew that he was enjoying beating the girl. She was a pretty little thing, with those big green eyes and all that red hair. Drusilla had seen intelligence in those eyes had they watched Spike carefully. This girl was special, just as Miss. Edith had said. She smiled as she asked again, "Does it hurt, kitten? Can you feel him breaking open your back? The flesh tearing a little more with every blow from the whip. The blood flowing and coating your pale skin in such a lovely shade of red. Do you think he will eventually tire? That he will stop and let you rest?"

Willow heard the woman's words, finding her attention becoming focused on the pretty vampire. She didn't respond, her mouth dry from hanging open and screaming silent screams. She watched as Drusilla stood, walking towards her as her long white dress swished softly. She flinched as fingernails moved over her cheek, Spike's fingers keeping her from moving her head away.

"So pretty," Drusilla whispered, moving her fingers over the girl's face. She traced an outline of the girl's lips as she whispered, "He won't stop, kitten. The scent of your blood calls to him. It hurts so good, doesn't it, lovey?" Drusilla smiled as she urged softly, "Scream for me, pretty kitten."

Willow's mouth moved but nothing came out. She watched as Drusilla moved backwards, the woman's eyes watching her and she assumed Spike behind her. A smile crossed the vampire's pretty face right before Willow felt fangs bury themselves in her back. She found herself screaming as Spike bit into one of the wounds made from the whip.

"Good girl," Drusilla clapped her hands and giggled before resuming her place on the bed, her eyes watching Spike and the redhead as she waited for more of their game.

~Part: 10~

Willow's scream faded away after the initial surprise of Spike biting her. The pain was no more than he had already caused with the whip, her entire back feeling as if it were on fire. She could feel her blood flowing slowly, sticking to her skin as he withdrew his fangs, his tongue licking the bite almost tenderly, as if he were savoring the taste. She closed her eyes as she waited, knowing that he had just gotten started. She wondered if she was going to die. Had Spike brought her there to torture her and then kill her? And, if not, what did he have planned for her? Her entire body was aching, not only from the whipping but from standing in such a restrained position for so long. She had lost most of the feeling in her feet due to the cold floor, and her arms were growing numb from being above her head. They felt worse than the time she and Xander and Jesse had gone to Disneyland, spending hours upon hours on the roller coasters with their arms waving above their heads. That memory left her mind as she felt fingernails scraping against her back. She gasped as he dug into one of the wounds caused from the whip, the pain unbelievable.

Spike smiled as he traced an open mark, his finger causing the skin to break apart even further. None of the marks was deep enough to scar permanently, he realized. He brought his finger to his mouth, sucking the blood covered digit inside as he licked the blood from it. She tasted wonderful, almost intoxicating, all sweetness and innocence but there was underlying presence that he couldn't identify easily. A power of some sort that made him need to taste more. He frowned as he moved away from her, having not expected her blood to be so tasty. Virgin blood tended to be better than most, but hers was different. It was unlike anything he'd ever tasted. He didn't like that, didn't like his reaction to her blood. He picked up a cat o nine tails, looking up at her through hooded lids, seeing that her eyes were closed, her body taut, waiting for him to strike. She was learning, anticipating his next move. He moved back towards her, his eyes not leaving her face.

Willow waited for what had to be five minutes, maybe ten. Nothing happened. She couldn't even feel behind her, heard no movements at all. She opened her eyes finally, needing to see if he had left. Her eyes widened as she found him standing right beside her, his eyes amused as they watched her.

"Lesson one, pet. Never close your eyes around the enemy," he said with a chuckle. "Gives them a bit of an advantage, wouldn't you say?"

She didn't answer, still trying to stop her heart from racing at finding him so close when she had been sure he was nowhere near. She watched him, angry that he found the entire situation amusing and scared because she had no idea what to expect from him next.

"Why, I could have slit your throat and you wouldn't have even seen me till it was too late," he scolded, shaking his head in mock disappointment. "I'd have expected more awareness from the slayer's best friend."

"Quit teasing," Drusilla scolded as she moved a pillow underneath her chest to rest against. "Kitten doesn't want to talk to you, Spike."

"Kitten can go to bloody hell for all I care," Spike said, raising his brow as he looked at his sire. "I like to talk."

"I know," Drusilla smiled indulgently before she looked back at the redhead who was watching them with fear and uncertainty.

"Right, then, let's play," Spike said, swinging his wrist and catching the redhead by surprise as the leather straps of his newest toy made contact with her upper thighs.

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