Bend and Not Break

Author: Jami

Parts: 41 - 49

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~Part: 41~

She hadn't realized that she was barefoot. Having been so intent on remaining silent as she made her escape, Willow had forgotten to prepare for her walk into London. They lived well within the city, but she needed to find her way out of the maze of homes and into the heart of downtown so she could find a carriage out of town. Cringing with every step she took, the dirt and pebbles along the cobblestone streets digging into her feet, she continued on.

The sky was a luminescent mix of reds, yellows, and oranges as the sun began to rise higher, bathing this half of the world with light. Her glassy eyes fell to her arms that were currently hugging her waist, the sight transfixing her so much that she stopped in her tracks. She was so pale. She had never been particularly tanned, it wasn't in fashion, but her skin was a stark white. It made her look ill, she grimaced unintentionally.

There were not many people walking the streets of London at only a few minutes after dawn. There was the occasional banker, heading to work before the rest of the populous woke, as did other men who deemed their work so important that they had to begin their days before the ordinary citizens even opened their bleary eyes. Everyone that passed her, no matter their purpose or station, gave her wide berth, as if they could sense her distress and unease. That wasn't a difficult feat, she supposed. Her hair was a mess, she had dressed quickly and with much haste, she was missing her shoes, and her posture spoke volumes for her emotional turmoil. The tiny redhead, no more that five foot-four inches, was hunched over, her eyes distant and troubled, hands shaking slightly from the cold. She was worrying her bottom lip and some passerby's swore she would most certainly draw blood. Her very being screamed of pain and sorrow and a need for assistance, but people kept their distance instead of moving closer. That was the trouble with the big city; people were more concerned with their own problems to care about the suffering of others. There were times when the occasional Good Samaritan would come along and lend a helping hand, but those times were few and far between.

Wincing as she stepped on a sharp rock, Willow fought the tears that sprung from her eyes, letting out a dismayed gasp. She moved to lean against a nearby streetlight, using the post for support as she lifted her leg and examined her foot. There was no blood, not even a cut, just a red mark which wouldn't even leave a bruise. She would carry on.

Her countenance brightened, although not much, when she reached the outskirts of downtown, now surrounded by shops and their owners opening their doors. People, she thought with a trembling smile, she hadn't really been around people in what felt like forever. She was in no condition to search for the perfect carriage with the sweetest, kindest driver, even thought that would make her journey more pleasant. She wanted out of town now; it wasn't the time to be picky. Although she knew she couldn't have been followed, the daylight ensured that, she had no doubts she would have pursuers on her trail by nightfall. It was best to leave immediately.

"Excuse me," she called out to the scruffy man leaning against the nearest carriage. He struck an imposing figure, over six feet tall, not lanky, but not bulky. He was all sleek muscle and concealed strength. His hair was almost black and was pulled back into a messy ponytail, strands hanging around his rather handsome face haphazardly. He turned his gaze to the woman to his right, cocking his head slightly as he studied her, eyeing her blatantly. His eyes were a muddy hazel, but quite mesmerizing, and his full lips were curled into a bored, lazy facsimile of a smile.

"Yeah?" he replied; his accent rather thick and lacking the refined polish that once tinged William's voice. Now, her William spoke with an arrogant, cockney accent, which laced this stranger's voice with eerie similarity. She was tempted to raise an eyebrow at his lack of decent manners, but found herself too tired to even bother.

"I need a driver," Willow explained as patiently as she could. He looked away from her dismissively and let out a wry chuckle. Her green eyes narrowed.

"Obviously," he remarked with a smirk. He saw out the corner of his eye that the little redhead stood her ground, looking more annoyed than offended, and sighed deeply, rolling his eyes. Pushing himself away from his carriage, he turned slowly to face the woman, contemplating her. This one was more than meets the eye, he realized with a slow grin. "What can I do ya for?"

"I need to leave the city, at the soonest possible moment," she informed him, all business. She was in no mood to trade barbs with some condescending prat who seemed to be content to mock her.

"Well then, I've got good news love," he teased as he opened the door with a flourish and an exaggerated bow. "I'm free now, in you go," he added, offering his hand to assist her inside, which she took hesitantly. He smiled, but she didn't find the action reassuring as she took her seat, tensing when he let his fingers linger on her skin longer than necessary, brushing her hand before finally pulling away.

"The name's Christopher," he continued, bowing his head in greeting, his earlier surly attitude seeming to vanish. He paused a moment, expecting the girl to tell him her name as well, but the redhead said nothing. He made a production of looking around before returning his gaze to her. "No luggage? You running away, Little Red?" he wondered, a teasing gleam in his eyes.

"I prefer to call it abruptly relocating," she amended tightly. He raised an eyebrow at her biting response and grinned.

"Hit a nerve there? What's the matter pet? Your parents want you marry some boorish cad? Feeling a sudden need to rebel?"

"Is there a reason my predicament interests you so?" she asked, looking his straight in the eye. He seemed amused, but the leer he was fixing her with made her increasingly uncomfortable.

"Just wondering what has a pretty chit like you fleeing the city, is all," he answered; his expression closing off as he moved away from the open door, annoyed by her dismissal. Christopher knew he was a handsome man, the mirror and many, many women said so, but this redhead refused to even offer him her name. He had no interest in small talk, finding it pointless and boring, but he also knew that women loved to talk, mostly about themselves, so he prodded for information. She would not play along though. He was caught between a feeling of respect and aggravation that she was so unaffected by him.

"So Red, where we headed?" he inquired sharply.

"North," she decided with a look of consideration. "Um, maybe to Leicester, I don't particularly care right now. Just.away from here." He nodded and closed her door tightly, leaving her in silence, the only light filtering in through a small window to her left. She felt the carriage shift as Christopher climbed in the front, readying the horse and preparing for their leave.

Willow was glad their conversation was over. Men like him made her nervous. Growing up, she only had three men in her life; Jesse, who had sadly passed away when she was fifteen, Xander, and her own father. All of them shared a few traits. They never came across as threatening or pushy. Her father, while not particularly humorous like Jesse and Xander, was a kind man. They were all rather shy around strangers, but sweet and caring to everyone. William fit that pattern as well, he was quiet and shy, but had the kindest soul she had ever seen. At least he used to.

But this man was nothing like her boys. He was presumptuous and rude, and she found him crass. He was the epitome of why she preferred the country to the city. But she needed him right now, once they reached Leicester, she could be rid of him. Hopefully, the ride north wouldn't be more than half a day, maybe a little more. But she had no intention of staying in Leicester permanently. Her plan was to continue north, possibly to Leeds before settling down. The further she was from London, the better chance Spike and Angelus wouldn't find her.

She let out a relieved sigh when she felt the wheels of the carriage move. Christopher frightened her a hell of a lot less than Spike did. While she knew that he was being honest when he told her he wanted her to love him, that he didn't want to hurt her, but she also knew that once he got over his grief from her departure, he would come after her with a vengeance. She really wasn't looking forward to their reunion, it probably wouldn't be pretty.

Curling the best she could into a seated fetal position, Willow tucked her feet under her skirts and rested her head against the slight padding of the cushion behind her. She was hungry and cold, although she was slowly beginning to warm up. She lit the gaslight even though the light was unnecessary, the heat relaxed her. She hadn't eaten since early afternoon the day before and her stomach was alternately grumbling in need of food and combating waves of nausea due to morning sickness. She was nearly two months along now, not nearly far enough along to show, but her child weighed heavily on her mind.

She wasn't sure how she could raise a child on her own, in a new city without anyone to rely on. Xander and Cordelia would be too far away and even visiting them put them at risk. But she would be fine, she would be strong. She had no other choice. She wondered what her son or daughter would look like. What if she had her same red hair? Or Will's striking blue eyes? Blue eyes that last looked at her with pain and disbelief.

The redhead was so conflicted, in turmoil over her reaction to Spike's face when she left. He had begged her to reconsider, looked so frightened at the prospect of her leaving. And when she told him she loved him, she nearly gave in right there. He was practically in shock, but she saw the happiness reflected in his eyes, underneath all the worry and desperation. And she felt incredibly guilty. Part of her wanted to stay with him, cling to the last shred of William she had left in the world, but if she had any hope of survival, she had no choice to leave.

So it was time to start over, maybe change her name; start a completely new life. She couldn't forget everything that happened in the past few months, she had lost everything important to her, with the exception of Xander and Cordelia, and she couldn't even see them anymore, or at least not for a few more months. It was time for a new home, new friends, and she would finally have the chance to grieve for the loss of her William properly. She only hoped Spike would grant her that opportunity.

~Part: 42~

He was lying across the elaborately decorative chaise, piercing blue eyes focused on nothing as he inhaled a lungful of acrid smoke, watching in fascination as the white tendrils escaped his lips with a forced breath, curling around him in nonsensical patterns. This was how he had spent the better part of the day, doing nothing but think. He spoke to no one, instead preferring the company of his own mind. Unfortunately, that night his thoughts were not his friends and his mood was swiftly deteriorating.

They hadn't found her. That's all Spike could think about. Angelus was out right now, searching for clues in between feeding. Spike knew he should join his sire, but he wasn't in the mood to do anything but wallow right now. He wasn't even confident their search would yield any results. She had a decent head start on them and they had no leads. It made sense, he supposed. She left as soon as the sun had begun to trace fiery lines in the sky, not many citizens were awake and moving about town that early in the morning. It was pointless trying to find her driver, there was no way the man could have returned to the city yet. Angelus had done as he promised and sent two of his more reliable minions to Peckham with explicit orders not to make their presence known to Mr. and Mrs. Harris. All they were to do is report back regularly to Angelus and alert them immediately is Willow was sighted or the couple ever felt the sudden need to travel. His best hope was that Willow would tell her friends where she was once she settled down somewhere. And if she did, his boys would find out and they'd pay the redhead a visit. One she wasn't likely to forget.

Angelus even went as far as to see if Dru could see Willow, find out where she was running to. But Drusilla's visions were fickle and she had been absolutely no help at all. That only made the blonde's hopes plummet. He hated the feeling of helplessness that was creeping into him. He had spent so many years as that ponce William, pathetic and so damn passive, that he loathed the idea that he wasn't in total control of everything. He wasn't the same whiny poet he used to be, but damn it if Willow didn't make all those familiar feelings of powerlessness return with a vengeance.

The study he was currently lounging in was filled with the echoed sounds of the clicking of heels, signaling the arrival of his sire's girl. Spike didn't make a move to acknowledge Dru, keeping his eyes glued to the flickering flames in the fireplace a few feet away.

Drusilla studied the morose blonde with a frown. Moving to his side, she knelt down on the floor beside the chaise and looked up at him, letting out a sympathetic whimper. Her hand moved from her lap, brushing the chilled flesh of her fingers across his forehead, combing his dirty blonde locks away from his eyes. He remained still.

"My poor boy," she sighed, head tilted slightly to the right as she considered him. The brunette shifted a little, moving her long silk skirts to cover her legs, ankles and feet before returning her attention to Spike.

"Do you want to talk, lovey?" she purred, her hand trailing down his face, along the sharp line of his cheekbone, down the column of his neck, across his shoulder, and skimming down his arm. "I know my Angel doesn't like to listen, but I do. Tell Mummy what's bothering you." she pressed, willing him to speak.

He tensed as she spoke. He had no desire to share his feelings with some chit. It just wasn't his style, unless he was plastered, then never say never.

Drusilla pouted sullenly when he continued to ignore her. He wasn't even telling her to leave, he acted as if she wasn't there at all.

"You aren't being nice," she complained, glaring at him. "It's mean to ignore Mummy. You act as if I'm invisible," she stopped her whining for a moment, a worried expression crossing her pretty face. "I'm not, am I?" she pleaded urgently. "I'm not invisible, am I? I can see me.can you? Can you see Princess?" she begged with a whimper.

"You're not bleeding invisible," growled Spike, annoyed that she had interrupted a perfectly good brood to rave on like a lunatic. She didn't look convinced, her head bowed as she rocked back and forth, arms wrapped around her middle. "Oh bugger."

"Dru," he started gently, his hands gripping her upper arms as he pulled her up on the chaise, moving her to sit beside him. "Pet, I can see you, I promise," he assured her. He hated when she got in these moods, especially when Angelus wasn't around. The elder always knew how to calm the nutter, he wasn't too good at it. "You're right here, wearing a blue dress," he added, hoping to prove beyond a doubt she was in fact visible. Inwardly groaning, he couldn't think of a stupider conversation he had ever been a part of.

"Really?" she whispered hopefully, looking at him from under her lashes.

"Really," he said with a nod. She straightened and smiled brightly at him. Letting out a relieved sigh, he sat back onto the cushions behind him, looking straight ahead, content to return to his previous activities of thinking and glowering.

His brunette companion frowned when he looked away from her once more. Scooting closer to the blonde, Dru gently laid her head on his strong shoulder, oblivious to the stiffening of his body at the unwanted contact.

"You want to know a secret?" she whispered conspiratorially, not waiting for him to answer. "Sometimes my Angel leaves to play and Miss Edith doesn't want to talk to me, and I get lonely. No one to talk to.no one to play with.are you lonely my William?"

His jaw was clenched tightly and he refused to answer her.

"You seem so lonely, pet," she purred. "Your naughty girl left too, just like my Angel. But he'll be back soon, she won't. She left you, not caring about your feelings, your needs." She inched closer to him, her face buried in the crook of his neck, her hand leaving her side to trail up his leg and hip, continuing along to rest on his chest, kneading the flesh under her fingers, occasionally pressing her nails into his skin.

"You don't have to be lonely, my sweet." she said, brushing her lips along the base of his neck. "I can be what you need. The tree is gone.but I am here." Her hands abandoned their place on his chest to gather her skirts, hiking them up slightly so she could move around easily, straddling the blonde promisingly. "I can make you forget the nasty girl.she wasn't good enough for my Spike.my glorious bloody boy," she purred. "I can feel your pain pouring from you, pet. I can make it go away, don't you want that, love? Tell me you want Princess," she demanded softly, her head inching closer to his.

She grinned when she felt his hand tangle in her hair. She always loved it when things got a little rough. His grip tightened as he glared at her, confusing her slightly. With a furious growl, Spike threw her off him, sending her sliding indelicately across the hardwood floor with a surprised shriek.

"Stay the hell away from me, you crazy bint," he told her, the look in his eyes and the snarl he emitted made her cringe. Pushing himself off the chaise to stand, he stalked to her, hovering over her menacingly.

"Understand this," he growled, "I don't want you. If you're looking for a good hard shag, I suggest you find Angelus." Making sure her eyes were glued to his, he continued. "Oh, and one last thing Princess," he sneered, "if I hear you speak one more word about Red, I'll cut your sodding tongue out."

Whimpering and trembling, Drusilla watched the blonde warily. He was beautiful in his fury, but she didn't dare say so. She knew he was hurting that his girl had left him and all she wanted was to make her sweet boy happy again. If anyone could make him happy, she thought she could. She was beginning to think she was wrong.

"Spike?" she murmured nervously, looking up at him through brown eyes that shone with tears. He was in game face now, growling loudly, chest heaving with unneeded breaths.

"Shut your gob," he snarled, glowering at the vampire on the floor.

"William!" shouted a deep, booming voice from the doorway, heavy footsteps falling on the floor as Angelus stomped into the study. The eldest was shocked to see his Dru huddled on the floor, looking surprised and frightened, Spike standing over her threateningly.

"What the hell do ya think yer doin' boy?" he growled, one hand gripping the collar of the blonde's shirt and throwing him against a nearby wall. He turned to Drusilla, extending a hand to the shaken woman and helping her up. "Leave us," he ordered and she complied without hesitation.

"The next time you feel the need to take out yer anger on someone else, stake a bloody minion," yelled Angelus, brown eyes flashing amber. "She's not only my childe, but yer elder, boy. Remember that if you harm one hair on that girl's head without her consent ya answer to me. I'll make ya pray for a quick death, ya prat."

"Save it, sire," Spike countered with a smirk. "Not my fault your chit was throwing herself at me. And while we're handing out advice, tell your bint to stay away from me."

"Listen to me, you arrogant brat," warned Angelus in a low voice, "These little mood swings of yours are getting tiring. But I don't care what ya do as long as ya don't touch her. Step one toe out of line again and you'll be dust." Stepping closer to the blonde, holding his gaze, Angelus spoke again.

"Ya need my help," he reminded him, "if ya have any hope of finding Willow, you'll need my connections. Cross me again, and I'll cut ya off completely." Biting the inside of his cheek to stop the smart remark that was waiting to come out, Spike nodded in agreement, visibly annoyed.

"I wasn't trying to hurt her," Spike told him, almost choking on his necessary apology. "I wanted to be by myself and she wouldn't leave me alone. I overreacted, it won't happen again." Angelus stared at him appraisingly.

"See that it doesn't," he said simply. "But now, I need ya to pack a bag, I've got some news. The two of us.we're going on a road trip."

~Part: 43~

So, this is Leicester, Willow sighed, her tone unimpressed. Hmmm.

Not what you expected, love? wondered Christopher as he sidled up to her. They had only arrived in town moments before and already the redhead realized this was not the place for her. It just didnt feel right, it felt almost uncomfortable, and while she couldnt comprehend where that feeling was coming from, she knew enough to remain wary. But still, she had no choice but to stay the night. Christopher was tired after traveling all day and neither one of them had enough energy to continue the journey.

Itll do, she decided with a frown.

Smirking at her obvious displeasure, he left her side to detach the horse from the carriage and tie his reigns a few feet away.

You look tired, he commented over his shoulder. Dead on your feet, you are. Dont you think its about time to crawl into bed?

Huh? Oh, yeah, she answered distractedly. Its justI have no money, she remembered with a trembling lip. I didnt even think about that. I have no money, no place to stay. I dont know anyone here and my feet are killing me a-and Im so tired, she babbled shakily, her head down.

Uncharacteristically moved by her evident distress, Christopher strode to her, tucking a finger under her chin so she would look him in the eye. Wiping away a stray tear, he offered what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

Hey now, he frowned. Dont do that, never liked it when women got all teary, he chastised with a teasing grin. She laughed nervously, unnerved by his closeness but unwilling to mention it because he was being so nice to her. Take a deep breath, alright? She nodded as did as told as he released her chin.

Im in no shape to be going anywhere tonight, so it looks like were both stuck here for the night, he reminded her. I may not be a wealthy man, but I got enough coin to pay for a roof over my head. No reason you couldnt stay with me, he suggested with a nonchalant shrug. She looked like she was about to refuse, propriety and the like telling her it would be wrong to spend the night in a strange mans bedroom.

Ill be on my best behavior, he said, eyes glinting in the moonlight. I promise. Besides, it wouldnt be right, leaving a lovely lady like yourself on her own in a new city, without any money.

She didnt look pleased if the cagey expression on her face was any indication, but she really didnt have many options at the moment.

Okay, she agreed finally, looking away. He took her elbow, leading her down the cobblestone streets, the gaslights along the way allowing the man to see where he was taking them both. Just down the street, to the right, was a little inn, nothing fancy, but it was the only place in sight and it seemed decent enough.

Feeling the tiny woman shiver underneath his grasp, due to the chill in the air that evening, Christopher dropped her arm and pulled her closer, tucking her under his arm. Willow stiffened as he wrapped an arm around her shoulder and began stroking her arm, up and down, the gesture all too familiar for her liking.

Come on, he said, breaking the silence as he picked up the pace of his steps. Youre bloody well freezing, lets get you inside.

She didnt even bother to respond to his comment, only speeding up her stride to keep up with him. He had much longer legs than she and she found herself almost jogging as she struggled to remain at his side.

His arm left her shoulders as he reached the door to the inn, not even bothering to knock, just turning the knob and pushing it open. Willow followed him inside a second later, closing the door behind her and moving to join him, absently rubbing her hands together to generate some heat.

There was an older gentleman sitting behind a large wooden table at the far end of the entryway. He had been engrossed in a rather old looking book when they had come calling, his head coming up from his novel to look to the newcomers.

His smile was kind and warm and the redhead was overcome with a sense of calmness at his relaxed demeanor. He stood, his gray hair looking almost white shined in the firelight, spectacles perched on the bridge of his nose as he observed the couple. He beckoned them closer with a wave of his hand and Christopher took the lead, stepping toward him with a confident stride.

Do you have any rooms free? he asked softly, his usually brash tone seemingly vanishing in that very instant. I know its late sir, he continued as he saw the man frown and glance to Willow who hovered by the fireplace. But mywifeand I, he said with a slightly apologetic gaze to the redhead behind him, just arrived in town after an entire day of traveling. Were quite exhausted. We just need a place to rest.

Of course, replied the old man, moving slowly to the back of the room where he kept a rack of keys. Grabbing one, he returned to his station, handing them to the imposing young man. Ill need your name, for the register.

Christopher, he supplied with a nod.

Your room is down the hall, to the left, last door. We can discuss fees in the morning, he declared. Im Mr. Hathaway, if you need anything feel free to come to me. In the mornings my wife works the desk and she would happy to help you with anything you need. Is that alright with you and your wife? he asked, peering over the mans shoulder to the tiny redhead. She smiled tentatively and he returned his gaze to the Christopher.

Thats all I could ask for, sir, said the handsome man, bowing slightly. Thank you for your hospitality, he offered with an enigmatic grin. Turning his back to the old man, he extended a hand to Willow, who stepped forward and laid her hand in his massive palm. His fingers curled around hers and he led her down the hall, calling out one last goodnight to the Mr. Hathaway.

Upon finding their room, which did not take long at all, Christopher opened the door for her with a gallant bow which she found odd because he hadnt even bothered to open the door for her when they first arrived at the inn. With a tired sigh she shuffled into the room, not taking any time to appreciate the rather beautiful surroundings. The only thing she could see was the big bed in the center of the floor.

The door closed behind her, the sound reminding there was someone else in the room. She spun slowly to glance at her driver as he dropped the key on the writing desk near the door. He smiled slightly, seeing that she was a little uncomfortable.

Arent you tired? he questioned with a quirked eyebrow.

Uh huh, she replied with a tiny nod, biting her lip nervously.

Then dont let me keep you. Get some sleep, he prodded.

Um, theres only one bed, she reminded him shyly, unconsciously fingering the wedding ring that hung around her neck like a pendant.

Were both adults, he shrugged, I assumed it wouldnt be a problem, us sharing a bed. It only seemed natural, since I had to tell him we were married.

She sighed, running a hand over her face. Can you at least turn around so I can change? He grinned but did as she asked, turning his back to her.

Willow did her best to loosen her stays on her own, undoing her gown after a tiny struggle and slipping out of the voluminous fabric. Dressed on in her shift, she quickly pulled back the covers and slid under them, her body sinking into the mattress. Uh, okay. You can turn around now, she decided, resting her head against the pillow.

He had taken the time while she was undressing to let his hair down, untying the messy ponytail and allowing his dark brown hair to fall haphazardly around his handsome face. He toed off his boots and unbuckled his belt, tossing his heavy coat across the desk chair and unbuttoning his shirt, shrugging it off and letting it join the coat on the chair.

The redhead was visibly relieved when he made no move to discard his pants so casually as he did the rest of his clothing. Instead, he crossed the room, moving to the other side of the bed and pulling back the sheets and blankets before crawling under them and groaning in relief at the feel of the soft mattress underneath him. It had been a long day, no question about that.

Willow lay on her back, looking up at the ceiling as she tried her best to relax and drift to sleep. She had so many thoughts running through her head. She wondered what Spike was doing right now? If he was furious, or maybe sad, she wasnt sure which she preferred. She supposed his anger would be easier to take, his sadness would just cause her heart to break. The bed shifted and her head fell to the left as she saw Christopher change positions to rest on his side, his lean, muscular back facing her.

She didnt know what to make of him. One minute he could be charming and endearing, another he was rude and inconsiderate. He was damn confusing, thats what he was. But she was stuck with him for now. That didnt mean she had to trust him though. With a frown she shifted to lie on her stomach, closing her eyes and willing herself to sleep. In the distance she heard the muffled sound of voices. She sighed inwardly, that must mean there were more guests that night. Burying her head into the pillow, she let her mind go blank, focusing on the soft breathing of her companion to lull her to sleep.

~~~*~~~

Mr. Hathaway was surprised when his front door opened again that night. He rarely had many customers, and most of them did not appear in the middle of the night like these people did. He didnt know the cause of the sudden boon in travel, but he was not about to question it.

Good evening gentleman, he greeted congenially, standing as the two men strode through the door. The blonde merely nodded distractedly in his direction while the tall brunette approached him with a charming smile.

Evenin sir, he said, his Irish brogue thick. Wed be needing a room, is that possible?

Oh, yes sir, stammered the graying man as he searched for yet another key to one of his free rooms. Would you like two rooms?

No, just one room, two beds, he informed him as he waited patiently, his blonde friend pacing the length of the entry room furiously. The old man handed him the key.

Your room is down the hall, last door on the right, Mr. Hathaway told him as he grabbed a pen. Can I have your name? For the register?

Hmmm? Oh, yes, replied the brunette as the lanky blonde noticed they were almost done, joining his companion at the desk. Its Angelus.

Fees can be discussed in the morning, Mr. Angelus. I hope you find your stay enjoyable, offered Mr. Hathaway with a kind smile. The brunette grinned widely as he caught the attention of the blonde. Spike and Angelus had been stuck in a carriage all day and most of the early evening, doing nothing more than following a lead that for all they knew could be false. But still, the brunette was in a good mood, and eager to get some rest, so he suggested to Spike that they get some sleep and see about finding Willow when they woke. The blonde could nothing more than simply agree with his sire. Besides, he didnt have a better idea. For all they knew, she was far away from Leicester. They had heard she was heading north, northeast, but vampires werent notoriously reliable and there was a good chance their informant was lying. A stake pressed precariously to your chest could do that to a demon. But still, Angelus seemed pleased, so Spike said nothing.

Angelus glanced back to the proprietor, a satisfied smirk on his face. Lovely doin business with ya.

~Part: 44~

"I don't understand why we're here, on a bloody wild goose chase we are." grumbled Spike as he threw himself into his designated bed, glaring at the ceiling above.

"Got anything better to do?" countered Angelus with a mocking grin. "You should be grateful that I've gone to so much trouble for ya, boy. Not like it's my girl we're chasin'."

"Yeah, well.good point," muttered the blonde. "I just hate this, is all. Stupid chit, you'd think she'd get it through her thick head that I'm not just gonna let her go. Frustrating bint, she is."

The tall brunette stifled a chuckle at his complaints and shrugged off his coat and shirt before discarding his boots and climbing into his own bed. Lying on his back, arms folded under his head for cushion, a considering look came over his handsome face. He wasn't sure why he was so willing to help Spike find his redhead. Part of it was because he was his childe, they had a bond. Not a particularly strong one, mind you, but it was still there. And part of it was his appreciation for the boy's persistence. If there was one thing they had in common, it was obsession. For Angelus, it was Drusilla, his beautiful, dark Princess. For Spike, it was Willow. His need for her went deeper than Angelus could comprehend.

As a human, Liam was a drunken lay-about and a womanizer. Angelus, growled unconsciously at the memory of his former name, causing Spike to glance in his direction before shrugging and going back to his contemplating. Lost in his thoughts, Angelus allowed himself to remember. When he was still a young man, he got pissed and got laid and that was about it. He never knew true love, never married. Why bother? None of that, family, children, interested him. His father was a miserable bastard and he always feared that he was destined to turn out just like him. So he refused to even allow himself to think of women as anything more than a good time, a distraction.

Upon wasting yet another night at the local pub, he had stumbled out onto the street and into an alleyway, seeing a beautiful woman silhouetted in the moonlight. She was a vision, he had to admit, and he couldn't resist her call. After all, if a woman like that was beckoning him to her, he wasn't about to play the chivalrous gentleman. He was never one to squander an opportunity like that. So, being the dense git that he was, he approached the ethereal blonde and became the vampire he was today.

It was a mixed blessing he supposed. He loved his life, or unlife as Spike liked to call it. He did what he wanted, took what he pleased, and had no one to answer to. Well, except for Darla and the Master. Grandpa really didn't like him though, he thought with a grin. He was less likely to give him orders, and more likely to just have him staked. But Darla wasn't in London, no she was off spending time with her pompous sire in Paris and although it wasn't the same without her, he was well accustomed to living without her presence. It wasn't like he was alone, he was surrounded by cowering minions, had Dru to care for, and now there was Spike. He couldn't hold back the deep chuckle that escaped him at the thought of Darla meeting his new boy. Oh, she'd hate him, he just knew it. William was brash and blunt, never one to worry about impressing anyone, just getting his way. Darla, for all her cunning and deadliness, was still so concerned with outward appearances. That was the Master's
 doing, no doubt. But Spike was an indispensable part of their little team now and Angelus had to admit, he reluctantly respected the boy.

Something about the way Spike watched Willow, like she was the be all, end all of existence, touched a chord with the older vampire. He remembered when he had first seen Dru, all those years ago. What he felt was nothing close to the love that the blonde professed, but still so all encompassing. He wanted her, to bend her, to break her, to make her depend on him, to make her like him. She was his obsession and his greatest accomplishment. A bloody work of art, she was. A little hard to handle sometimes, but still so very beautifully broken. Yes, obsession was something that he could understand well, and wasn't love just another form of obsession?

That undeniable, aching need in your gut, the desperation that fills your being, it's all the same. For Spike, his obsession went even deeper. This was no ordinary girl, no run-of-the-mill society chit whom he had fancied a decent shag and a good meal. No, this woman was his wife, his human love. Willow had a tendency to make a common mistake, Angelus acknowledged. You see, when the man is killed and the demon takes its place, it's not some simple conversion. It's not all black and white. The most dangerous things in life never fell into that definable 'black' category. It was the gray area you have to watch out for. And vampires, they were all gray. The memories, the feelings from their human lives remain, undistorted. Emotions intensify. For example, he hated his father with a passion, even as a pathetic excuse for a man, Liam wanted nothing more than to punish the old man for his treatment of him. So when he was turned, he finally had the power he had been lacking, and more
 importantly, he had the drive. That hate burned even hotter inside him, forcing him to do something to satisfy the demon's demand for his blood.

Now, there is the occasion when intense love can be turned into loathing, when the demon rejects the idea of giving itself to another in that way, and the vampire destroys the one responsible for the feeling. But surprisingly that is very rare. Usually, the loved one is turned, but whether they live to see the next sunset is never sure. Minions don't make strong childer. So when a fledge turns someone, the resulting vampire is weak. Sometimes, the reigning Master will take the initiative to stake the unwanted vamp, other times the newly turned would manage to get themselves dusted their first night feeding. It was survival of the fittest, after all. But smart vamps, ones who were in control of their demon, they never did something as impulsive as turning their lover the night of their awakening. It was hard enough adapting to your new abilities alone, but to be responsible for another fledge made things extremely difficult. Angelus knew that Spike wanted nothing more than to turn his
 girl, but the blonde was smart enough to know that waiting was for the best. Besides, she was expecting, an interesting turn of events, he thought with a smirk. So her embracing would have to wait, but that didn't mean she would be allowed to roam the English countryside as she wished. Willow would have to get used to the idea of living with them soon, it was only a matter of time until they found her and she would not be lucky enough to get another chance to escape. Spike would see to that.

Turning his head to the side, Angelus studied the glowering blonde. He was tense, eyes closed and jaw clenched as he tried to force himself to sleep. Spike was lying on his back, but he was leaning to the right a bit, holding the spare pillow from the head of the bed in his arms, pressed tightly against him. He did that a lot lately, Angelus realized. When he fell asleep, his hands would automatically reach for Willow beside him, coming up disappointingly empty until he gave up and held the pillow close to him, a sad substitute for the warm body he was missing.

Shifting on the too soft mattress, the brunette frowned. Unlike Spike, his hands didn't reach for any absent body. He didn't long for the warmth of a human, nor the coolness of a vampire. He loathed to admit there was a tiny bit of envy on his part. William, before he had been turned, was full of emotion, sadness, anger, hurt, lust, and most of all, love. But Liam, his feelings had been numbed from years of drinking. Even the familiar feeling of lust didn't stir him as it should. He supposed that's why he was more sadistic than his childe. Violence gave him a long missed thrill and he had to get his rocks off somehow.

He knew now why he was doing this, heading out on a most likely fruitless journey to find the blonde's lady love. Because, even though he tried to deny it, he envied the love his boy was capable of showing. He himself didn't have the potential to devote himself to a woman, a mortal at that, as wholeheartedly as Spike did. It wasn't in him. As a man, he lacked the ability, as a demon, he saw it as a weakness. But a small part of him, a tiny remnant of the man he could have been, admired the devotion and caring the blonde showed so easily. And so he would do what he could to make sure Spike got his happy ending. He may not be able to love anyone other than himself, but he wasn't going to resign his boy to the same, surprisingly unsatisfying, fate.

Spike kept his eyes closed until he felt Angelus' eyes leave him, his eyelids fluttering open and stormy blue eyes falling onto the form of his sire. He knew that the older vampire had been lost in his thoughts, the occasional glare or frown making its way onto his face, and the deep rumble of laughter that erupted from him when he must have remembered something amusing. He knew better than to interrupt his internal monologues. Angelus' thoughts had a tendency to be in an incomprehensible tangle that rivaled Dru on her most crazy days. His mind was scattered, rarely remaining on one subject long before moving onto another. He was guilty of that as well.

When he was still William, he would get lost in his head, various thoughts vying for attention, most usually involving his lovely wife. Willow always found it adorable. She used to tell him that while she babbled endlessly out loud, he babbled in his head. And she always knew how to pleasantly pull him out of his thoughts with a kiss. He missed times like that. It hadn't been the same since he was turned.

Not that he expected it to be. He was no fool. He was well aware that things between he and the redhead would never be exactly the as before. He supposed that was part of the reason he and Angelus constantly came to blows, verbally and physically. Because more than anything, Spike blamed him for making him a monster. For making him lose the one perfect thing he had in this cruel world.

He didn't hate being a vampire. He didn't have a soul, the demon resided in his body freely and it loved its existence. But the part of him that remained, the little bit of the man he was that lingered, rebelled against the evil inside him and the demon who made him. Angelus always commanded respect and Spike gave him none because he found him undeserving. He took a man he had met once on the street and ripped him away from his family, ignoring his desperate pleas for himself and his wife, and killed him. But he didn't even allow him the reprieve of death. No, he was the undead, immortal, destined to a life of loneliness if he couldn't get Willow to see how badly he still needed her. And he hated his sire for it.

But nothing could be changed. What was done was done, no use dwelling in the past. So Spike was trying his best to be civil to Angelus, considering his elder was actually trying to help him find his girl. But he wasn't sure they would be successful this time. Angelus didn't give Willow enough credit, she was bloody brilliant and while she might not be street smart, she was amazingly calm and collected in a crisis. It wouldn't be as easy to find her as it was the first time. She would avoid Xander and Cordelia like the plague, as much for her own safety as theirs.

He was so conflicted. He wanted to punish her for leaving him, for finally admitting she loved him, *him*, not just William, and then running. But he also wanted to simply hold her, to bury his face in her hair and take in her scent, to assure himself that she was really there. He wanted to scream and rail, he wanted to kiss her and tell her he loved her. But more than anything, he just wanted the opportunity to do either. He just wanted her by his side once more.

Shaking his head, he saw Angelus with his back to him trying to find a comfortable position. Facing away from his sire, he pulled the pillow closer to him and closed his eyes again. It was times like these he hated. He swore he could practically feel her, feel Willow's very presence. He could almost catch her scent in the air, but shook it off as a mere illusion. She wasn't here, in the room, in the inn, probably not even in the sodding city. With a muffled growl he buried his head deeper into the down pillow and willed himself to sleep.

Willow mumbled in her sleep and scooted closer to the edge of the bed. Christopher was sleeping soundly on the other side of the bed and Willow moved farther and farther away from him, unconsciously. She couldn't help it. She had grown used to Spike's cool body next to hers as she slept and she found Christopher's warmth discomforting. Pulling the blanket tighter around her, whispered the blonde's name in her sleep, even unconscious, she swore she could feel his presence and it comforted her. She reluctantly had to admit, she missed Spike.

~Part: 45~

Stretching leisurely, Spike lazily examined the room he was in. The curtains in the inn, although a tad on the thin side, were closed and provided just enough protection from the sun during these tedious daylight hours. His bed was messy, untidy considering he had just woken. It didn't bother him; he was never one to worry about presentation, cleanliness. That was more Angelus' rift. Speaking of his anal sire, he realized the brunette was missing.

There were still five or six hours until they could venture freely into town, which meant he couldn't be far. From the state of his side of the room, the made bed, the neatly folded clothes by the unneeded mirror, Angelus had been awake for awhile now. Shrugging nonchalantly, Spike found his luggage, sifting through his belongings and pulling out a clean pair of slacks and a shirt, nothing fancy. After all, they were supposed to be merchants, which was their cover, not exactly poor, but by no means wealthy. They wanted to keep a low profile; they were only really here for information. It was only a possibility that Willow even passed through her, but if she did, it wouldn't do for her to get word that there were two men asking about her. The more they went unnoticed, the better. He dressed quickly, the rumbling in his stomach a reminder that he had yet to feed. They only stopped once on their way to Leicester to grab a bite, some filthy wretch, not his most satisfying meal to say the
 least. But he had learned that street urchins would do in a pinch, although they were too bitter for his tastes.

The door opened quietly, the knob turning easily in his light grip. The blonde stepped out into the hall, making note of the door across from that was closed tightly. His calculating blue eyes swept over the hall, to see if any other rooms showed signs of occupation. There were three other rooms along this hall, each of their doors slightly ajar. Grinning, thankful that the inn was decidedly not crowded, he made his way to the lobby.

Spike heard voices speaking casually as he made his way down the narrow corridor, recognizing both immediately. Stepping into the foyer, he saw Angelus lounging in an overstuffed chair feet away from the desk where the owner of the tiny inn was seated. He was conversing softly with the old man, who every once in awhile joined in the conversation but rarely looked up from his ledgers. That was probably best, considering the looks Angelus was sending his way. While the elder vampire's tone may have been cordial and kind, his dark eyes were clouded yet sharp. His gaze was focused intently on the man's neck, watching almost curiously the slowly pulsing jugular vein. He too was ravenous, but he had formidable control, Spike had to admit. Other than his intense gaze, there were no outward signs of his bloodlust. His eyes remained brown, not amber; there was nary a ridge on his forehead, and not even a hint of fang peeking out from his lips.

"Tell me, Mr. Hathaway, do ya get much business here?" the Irishman wondered absently, nodding to Spike as he entered the room. The blonde ignored the chair beside his sire, instead choosing to lean against the bookcase lining the nearby wall.

"During the summer we tend to be busy," the white-haired man replied, glancing up at the stranger. He jumped a bit when he spotted the man's traveling companion only feet away. He never heard him come in.

"We are not very busy right now," he continued, only stammering slightly, eyes falling back to his books. "It's too cold, not good weather for traveling, I'm afraid."

"So.you don't have many guests at the moment?" Angelus inquired with a quirk of an eyebrow. He shared a glance with Spike, a tiny smirk playing on his lips. The blonde recognized that look. It meant they'd be having their fill of the proprietor, probably his matronly wife, and whoever else had the misfortune of staying in this little abode. Angelus was just doing his best to find out how many people they would find in the many rooms here. It wouldn't do to be surprised, after all it was still day and if they got in over their heads they had no where to run.

"Only four," replied Mr. Hathaway, thumbing through his ledger. "The two of you," he continued with a nod, "And a young man and his wife. That's all, rather poor turnout, I admit."

"Sounds perfect to me," the Irishman mumbled with a grin. "Tell me, sir, wasn't yer wife supposed to take this shift," he announced, louder. "How do you get any sleep if yer always sittin' at that desk?"

"My wife is poorly, sir," he said with a small frown. "Nothing but a cold I'm sure, but she was tired, so I told her I'd take her place. I never needed much in the way of sleep anyway," he assured his guest with a smile.

Glancing at the clock that lay on the far right of his desk, Mr. Hathaway was surprised at the hour. "You boys must be getting hungry, it's past noon already. There's a quaint little tavern down the road, they might be able to scrounge up something for you all to eat."

"You know what?" considered Angelus with a devilish grin. "I am feeling a bit peckish. What do you think, William?" he asked, practically purring as he turned to Spike. "Feel like getting a bite to eat?"

"Well now that you mention it," he growled, unable to hold back a laugh when the old man jumped in his chair, unprepared for the hissing voice in his ear. Mr. Hathaway stood, not quite eye to eye with the blonde man that had suddenly appeared behind him. His frail hands gripped the ledge of the desk tightly, until his knuckles turned white, as he stared at the misshaped face that looked back at him.

Spike chuckled at the terror etched onto the man's face, distorted by wrinkles from age. He absently ran his tongue over his now sharp and deadly teeth, cocking his head to the side as he grinned, leaning in a little closer, and letting out a warning growl when the man flinched. A hand came out to grip what little hair he had left, wrenching his head to the side and pulling him harshly away from the desk, teeth biting deeply into his exposed neck, grinning against his flesh when he heard the pain filled gasp that escaped him.

Footsteps made their way across the room, closer to the younger vampire, but Spike made no move to halt his feeding, it was only Angelus. His hand that still gripped the man's hair was pushed away and he felt Angelus tilt the man's head back a bit as he too began to drain him of his life's blood.

The body hit the floor with a thud and they made no move to hide it. The few windows that were in the lobby were blocked by draperies, and even if anyone were to walk inside, the corpse would be obscured by the large writing desk in front of it.

"So, did that hit the spot?" Angelus wondered as he licked stray blood off his lips.

"Not even bloody close," grumbled Spike as he kicked the body at his feet. "The git was close to death as it was."

"Well, we do have others to tend to," the brunette reminded him with a wide smile.

"Ah, yes. Can't forget poor Mrs. Hathaway, and then there is the married couple," considered Spike. "Have your fun with the old bint, I'll pay a visit to the Mr. and Mrs." He smirked before turning away from his sire, heading for the lone closed door across from their room.

"You damn well better leave some for me!" warned Angelus with a slight chuckle as the blonde sauntered down the hall; his only answer was a dismissive wave from the boy. Shaking his head in amusement he swaggered toward the opposite hall where the newly widowed woman was lying in her sickbed. He may have no intention of eating the woman, after all, diseased blood always seemed rancid to him, but that didn't mean he couldn't have fun.

Straightening his clothes, he knocked softly on her bedroom door, a strange display of politeness and courtesy in the midst of a slaughter. Not waiting for a response, Angelus gently pushed open the door, sticking his head inside and smiling kindly at the sixty-something year old woman resting comfortably inside.

"I hope you don't mind the disturbance," he offered with a bow of his head. "But your dear husband was worried about you, he asked for me to check on you. He would be here himself but he's.occupied at the moment," he informed her as he slipped into the room, shutting the door firmly behind him.
~~~*~~~
 

Spike didn't bother with knocking. Unlike Angelus he was in no mood to play games, he was hungry and in need of a good bloodbath, the messier the better. Kicking the door open he strode into the bedroom, eyes falling on a surprised brunette who was in the process of dressing for the day. His pants were buttoned but not belted and his shirt, a bit wrinkled, hung loosely from his slender frame, undone and open.

"Who the hell are you?" Christopher demanded as he glared at the smaller man that had just kicked down the rather heavy wooden door. The blonde didn't look like he could possible possess the strength to perform such an act and Christopher wouldn't have believed it if he hadn't seen it with his own eyes.

"Doesn't matter who I am," Spike replied dismissively. "My name is of no sodding importance," he sneered as he took a step forward, smirking when the taller man took a reflexive step back. Catching himself, Christopher forced himself to stand his ground, taking a daring step forward.

The bark of laughter that greeted this action surprised him.

"You gonna be the brave man?" Spike grinned. "Might be a nice change," he shrugged, "I could use a decent brawl."

"Get out," Christopher ordered firmly. "I don't know what you're bloody well going on about but you don't belong here. This is my room, nothing and no one in here concerns you."

"But I'm hungry," the blonde whined plaintively, smirking when the other man looked at him in utter confusion. "And I thought you.and maybe your lovely wife.might be able to help me out."

"L-Listen-" he tried to reason as the blonde moved further inside, casually examining his room with cold blue eyes. His reply was cut off as a door off to their left was opened.

Willow stepped out of the bathroom that was connected to her room, still dressed in her undergarments. While she was by no means uncovered or dressed indecently, she still hated how naked she felt in only her shift.  Brushing her hair, still wet from the long bath she had partaken in, she entered the bedroom once more, eyes focused on the floor. Christopher still made her so uncomfortable, even though they had spent the night side by side without incidence.

"Are you almost ready?" she asked without looking up, moving to the mirror. "We need to leave soon, before nightfall. It's extremely important we leave before nightfall," she stressed, unnoticing of Christopher's distress which plainly obvious in his reflection.

She was met with silence for the longest of moments and frowned. Still facing the mirror she glanced up, seeing for the first time Christopher's defensive stance and the nervousness in his features. Her brow crinkled in confusion as she wondered what could have him so worried.

"Willow?"

Her name came as merely a whisper and the redhead froze when she realized Christopher was not the one who had spoken. She had watched him the entire time and not once did his lips move. Her eyes scanned the room reflected in the mirror and saw no one else. That didn't really come as a surprise to her; after all, she did recognize that voice. Her eyes closed tightly as she cursed her horrible luck, shoulders sagging in a deflated, defeated posture.

Spike couldn't move, he thought he might be in shock but that didn't change the fact that he couldn't move. He stared incredulously at the girl standing mere feet away from him. She was here the whole time, a voice growled in his head, across the damn hall the entire night and he hadn't known. As he slowly gained his bearings, his eyes narrowed. The large bed off to his right had obviously been slept in, and his gaze traveled to the haphazardly dressed man only feet away from his redhead. She too was half-dressed and obviously not happy about his timely arrival, not that it came as a surprise to him.

It all happened so fast, the two humans barely registered his movement. Willow spun on her heel the second she heard Spike move, unable to see his direction in the mirror. He had crossed the room before they could even move, Christopher's neck gripped tightly in one of his unnaturally strong hands. The brunette was pushed up against the nearest wall, the blunt nails on Spike's fingers biting into his skin, causing him to wince. He struggled to breathe, hands clawing desperately at the arm that held him, but to no avail. Spike's grip tightened and he let out a groan of pain.

"Did. You. Touch. Her?" he questioned slowly, each word hissed through clenched teeth.

Christopher opened his mouth to deny his accusations and implications but no words escaped him. His hazel eyes fell to the redhead cringing by the dresser, silently pleading with her to tell the truth. He didn't know who this man was, if he even was a man, but it was apparent that he would kill him if he thought anything happened between him and the girl.

Unfortunately for him, Spike noticed his sideways glance and growled angrily, tightening his grip even more, hearing his gasps for air become more and more strangled and feeling the bones shift in protest of his treatment.

"Did you touch my wife?" he asked again, his voice unnervingly calm now. Christopher's eyes widened in comprehension and he tried to shake his head in denial, still fighting the hand around his neck.

"No!" Willow screeched, shaking herself out of the stupor that had overcome her as she raced to them. "Let him go, Spike.please?" she begged, her voice hoarse. "Nothing happened," she swore to him, praying that he could see the truth in her eyes. Her hand fell to his shoulder, hoping her touch would be reassuring. His head turned to the side to glance at her, eyes now amber. "You have to believe me Spike, nothing happened.please don't hurt him. I.this is my fault.don't hurt him because of me."

"Oh this is rich," chuckled an amused voice from the doorway. All eyes turned to the man leaning against the doorframe and he relished the attention. "We've only been gone two days and we find ya already, Red. Ya might want to give up this whole running away thing, yer not very good at it."

Willow decided to ignore Angelus for the moment, turning back to Spike. "Let him go," she begged softly, her hand sliding down from his shoulder, over his arm, to rest gently on his hand, tugging at it.

Spike looked like he wasn't going to listen to her as he clenched his hand even more, lifting the man so his feet dangled ever so slightly above the carpet. He stared hard at the brunette in his grasp before sneering in disgust and flinging him away like trash. Even though he was nearly twice his size, Christopher went flying across the room, hitting the full length mirror with a harsh crash, shattering the glass. Angelus raised an eyebrow at the display and pushed himself away from the door to clear the doorway.

"Thank you," she breathed. There was no way out of this for her. She couldn't get away. But she knew Spike wouldn't kill her, but Christopher? He would gladly kill Christopher but she couldn't bear the thought of his death on her conscience. She may not like the man but he certainly didn't deserve to die.

Remembering that her hand was still holding his, Willow released her light grip, moving to take a tiny step back, but she didn't get far. Spike took her hand firmly in his own, halting her steps. His free hand moved to her face, his fingers brushing along the line of her cheekbone, across the line of her jaw, and down her neck. His hand continued its descent, fingers entwining themselves in the chain of the necklace she wore around her neck until he had a firm grasp on the ring she used as a pendant, resting just above her bust-line. With a hard yank, the chain broke, the flimsy silver standing no chance against his strength. He discarded the useless chain and lifted her left hand, slipping on the wedding ring he had given her all those months before.

She said nothing the entire time, unsure of what to say anyway. He squeezed her hand, not in a painful manner, more like a reassuring move on his part. His other hand went back to rest against her neck, his thumb absently tracing her clavicle.

"Mine."

His voice told her much more than his words did. He didn't bother to hide his displeased growl. He had felt threatened by Christopher's mere presence and he wanted to make sure she knew she belonged to him and him alone. Sadly, she knew that all too well.

She could only nod and he seemed satisfied at that response. His eyes finally released her gaze and he looked to Angelus who was watching them as if they were there only for his entertainment. The elder saw the look in the blonde's eyes and smirked, glancing at Willow who had yet to comprehend the meaning of their silent conversation before he turned back to Spike.

Nodding decisively at his sire, Spike barked his orders. And while Angelus would usually take offence at being ordered around by someone inferior, especially his own childe, he wasn't about to argue with him this time. "Kill him."

Angelus was in game face before he finished his sentence and Willow spun around to see him take a step toward the prone young man on the floor.

"No!" she shrieked, honestly surprised, although Angelus couldn't figure out why. She didn't really think Spike would let the little prig live, did she? She struggled to get away from Spike, but he retained that harsh grip on her hand. She yelled and she screamed and she kicked at him to the point he was worried she would hurt herself or her child. With a frustrated and furious growl, Spike pulled her to him, her back firmly planted against his chest. One arm held her around the waist, loose but unyielding, the other coming up around her neck.

Willow fought as best she could as she watched Angelus pick Christopher up by the scruff of his neck, the man wobbling on unsteady knees as the vampire wasted no time in diving for his throat. She felt her eyes get heavy, all the sounds in the bedroom becoming muffled as Spike gripped her neck, pressing tightly on a nerve on the back of her neck. She tried to stay conscious but she felt herself drifting away, unable to fight the sleep that overcame her. She barely registered the sound of Christopher's body hitting the floor and the last words Spike spoke before she passed out.

"I'm sorry love."

~Part: 46~

Drusilla gazed dazedly at the roaring fire crackling in the living room. Her eyes were unfocused, a tiny, childlike smile playing on her lips. The manor was quiet, most of the minions out to feed by now since dusk had arrived nearly an hour before. Angelus and Spike were gone, but would be back in a matter of days, Marcy told her. Her mind wandered, as it usually did when she was left on her own, never sticking to one single thought or idea for too long.

Every hour or so, if they remembered, a minion or two would poke their heads through the door to the parlor, checking to see if their mistress was still there and in one piece. Angelus had left them with explicit demands to watch after Dru, to make sure she didn't get herself into any trouble she couldn't handle. The master wasn't so much worried that his childe would find her self in a sticky situation. Without him, or even Spike, around Dru would prefer to stick close to the manor, only leaving to feed and maybe play a bit. She disliked going out on her own, grown accustomed to being escorted everywhere like the princess she was.

No, the minions weren't there to protect her from others. They were to protect her from her self, and her often self-destructive tendencies. Without her Daddy there, Dru would remain cooped up in the house, content to talk only with her precious dolls. When she and the stars she talked to so often were in a good mood there was no trouble to be had. But given a decent amount of time Dru would stir up trouble for herself. No doubt Miss Edith or one of the multitude of dolls she called friends would say something mean or offensive and Dru would have a fit. Her sire had caught her once trying to rip her hair out of her very head when Delilah said the style she was wearing that day looked horrid.

The minions had done their jobs admirably the first day, keeping an eagle eye on the vampire at all times of the day and night. But as soon as the next day they had become lax in their duties. One or two of them continued to accompany her when she left the house to feed, but more often than not, she was left to her own devices. The master would not be pleased when he returned, but none of them seemed to realize the very real error they were making.

Drusilla, on the other hand, was on her best behavior. She didn't seem to mind the lack of attention she was receiving from the lesser vampires in the manor. In fact she had practically forgotten they were even there. Not a real big surprise considering she often lived in her own little world. One delicate, pale hand left the doll she had been holding to herself, reaching out to the side table beside the chaise she was lounging on. Taking a ladylike sip from the blood-wine that she had poured for herself earlier, she sharpened her gaze.

Dark, fathomless eyes fell onto the envelope resting on the table, her smile widening as she remembered the contents of the letter she had received only the night before. While she was a bit lonely without her Angelus there, her previous unhappiness had fled when she had carefully opened the envelope which had been sealed with wax in the loveliest shade of blood red. She wasn't going to be alone much longer. They were to have a guest in the manor of Aurelius.

Her thoughts were forgotten when Drusilla heard the front door swing open, the large piece of wood being pushed open so forcefully that it hit the wall with a crack. The lithe brunette stood slowly, clutching her precious doll tightly as she slowly made her way to the entry hall, skirts swishing quietly. She was clothed in a midnight blue, silk gown, complete with corset. She had heard many mortal women complaining of discomfort when they wore the undergarment, but Drusilla had no complaints. After all, she didn't exactly have trouble breathing. And besides, Dru always enjoyed a bit of pain. She had dressed in her best, eager to impress her expected visitor. Appearances were everything really.

She could hear three or four voices speaking hurriedly as one minion passed her in the hall, obviously flustered, a suitcase in hand. She spied two of the female fledglings fussing over the newcomer, hurrying to remove the guest's cloak and gloves, the other asking if the woman needed anything.

The woman turned in a half-circle, dismissing the questioning minion with one withering glance. Drusilla cocked her head to the side in effort to get a better look, a delighted smile crossing her pretty face when she recognized the visitor.

Blonde hair was pinned up, the occasional ringlet grazing her face or brushing her shoulder. Her dress left nothing to be desired. Her wardrobe was immaculate, as usual, speaking openly of her wealth and importance. The annoyed expression she currently wore did nothing to diminish her beauty. Soft, full lips twisted into a grimace, eyes piercing, calculating even as she studied her surroundings in obvious approval. The blonde took stock of all around her, sneering at the eager to please minion at her side. She had sent one off with her luggage, another just now with her cloak, and that left the third woman who was staring up at her with nervous eyes.

She didn't even bother to be polite, instead choosing to indelicately shove the minion aside. Thankfully the girl took the hint and scrambled away as quickly as possible. The new woman was no one to anger. Gray-blue eyes watched her scamper away, disgust evident. Trust Angelus to pick a servant like that, no backbone whatsoever, submissive to the core. That was just how he liked his girls. Well, except for her. She was in no way the submissive type, never would be.

Drusilla pushed Miss Edith aside, setting her on the side table she passed as she rushed further into the entry hall, letting out an undignified squeal as she plowed into the blonde, arms wrapping around the woman's middle, ignoring the disgruntled growl coming from the other woman.

"Grandmummy!" the brunette said excitedly even as Darla did her best to extract herself from Dru's crushing embrace.

"Dru." sighed the blonde as she pried away the brunette's surprisingly strong arms. Pushing the seer away in effort to gain some personal space, Darla nearly groaned at the elated expression on Dru's face. Obviously she was in need of company, and lucky her, she was it.

"Oh, it has been so long.did you miss me? I'm so tired of being the only girl here, the boys don't always play nice." rambled Dru, enraptured by the sight of her grandsire.

"Where is Angelus?" barked Darla, cutting off anymore pointless babbling.

"Away," Dru answered simply, eyes glazing over and head rolling back slightly in that ever so familiar dazed look Darla was used to seeing on the rather loopy woman.

"Away?" she scoffed with a derisive sneer. "Did you not receive word that I was coming?" she demanded angrily. It was only proper that her childe greet her when she arrived in London. She would do the same if the Master ever called upon her home. And yet Angelus was no where to be seen. She thought her boy knew better than to test her patience. He was no mere fledgling anymore, but she thought she had spent enough time when he was young drilling the rules of proper etiquette into his thick skull. Obviously she had been a bit remiss in her duties. Pity her lovely boy would be the one paying for her poor mood.

"Yes," Drusilla sighed with a smile. "Your letter was delightful. It reeked of death."

Darla stopped listening after that. This was just wonderful. For whatever reason Angelus was not here and she was now left alone in a house with Dru, would annoyed and embarrassed her to no end, and a bunch of worthless minions. And she had so hoped her little excursion to London would be a pleasant one. She was beginning to regret leaving Paris.

France had gotten boring after a month spent in Paris. Darla had left Angelus and Drusilla in northern England after being called upon by her sire. Joseph Heinrich Nest, whom most chose to call the Master, an apt title if you asked her, had requested her presence. It was nothing important really, he said he missed her. It had been over a decade since she had last seen him, maybe a bit more, so it was an understandable excuse. She had briefly entertained the idea of bringing along her devilish childe, and even his own creation since she couldn't very well ditch the tiresome Drusilla along the way, but quickly decided against it.

It was no secret that her sire found her boy to be too arrogant for his own good. It was true really. Angelus had no respect for rules or order; he was everything the Master thought a true vampire shouldn't be. He was rash and a tad foolish, arrogant to an extreme, but she never denied that. In fact, that was what drew her to the Irishman. He was devious and brilliant in his planning, meticulous almost to a fault. He never failed to impress her, when she wasn't tempted to stake the little upstart that is.

He tested her patience like no one else. Angelus enjoyed seeing her fume, reveled in the looks she would send him, filled with malice and danger. It excited him more than worried him. It was no wonder that he never had a respect for the rules she had tried to teach him. He never listened to her, instead choosing to piss her off. Snippy little comments from him would make her angry, she would start yelling, he would simply smirk, she would rail at him, but in the end it made no difference. Every one of their fights had ended with them in bed, exhausted and too content to move let alone yell and scream threats at one another. She supposed it was her own fault he was so cocky, she had never taken the time to discourage behavior like that, but really, who would want to? So bringing Angelus to the Master, knowing it would only infuriate her sire, was a no go.

And there was simply no way she was traveling alone with Drusilla. If it wasn't for Angelus' twisted attachment to the girl, Darla would have staked the trying vampire ages ago. Dru spoke in constant riddles and nonsensical statements, which alone was enough to drive her up the wall. But Drusilla also had the idea in her head that Darla was meant to be her best friend, her confidant. Dru would paste herself to the blonde's side when she entered a room, content to add her own random comments while Darla spoke with anyone. In essence, Drusilla was the thorn in her side, that given the opportunity, she would destroy in a second. So she had left her darling boy with his aggravating childe and whisked off to France.

France was dull; Paris was the same as she remembered from her last visit. And Darla found herself increasingly discontent with her position in the Master's home. On her own she was a powerful master vampire, one to fear and respect. Outside of the Master's lair, outside of Paris where she roamed the lands with her children, she was the leader, the alpha. But back in Paris, back in that underground hovel her sire called home, she was only second in command, a high ranking flunky. She was not made to serve, she was made to rule, and as long as she remained with her sire she would always be subservient. So, after only ten months she had left Paris.

In no hurry to return to Drusilla's inane chatter, she had taken her time traveling back to England. She had sent post once she was well into the borders of the country and knew that her letter would not arrive more than a day or two before her actual arrival, but that did not bother her. She wasn't expecting fanfare when she arrived at the manor, but did she not garner even a greeting from her most beloved son? This was most unacceptable.

"Where is my childe?" Darla growled, breaking into Drusilla's excited monologue, eliciting a pouting frown from the brunette.

"Daddy had to help William find his poppet," Drusilla chirped. Before Darla could get another word out, Dru had taken her hand firmly and had begun to lead her away, to the parlor most likely. Darla tried to think over that last sentence carefully, confusion coming to the front of her normally agile mind.

Drusilla squeaked as she was violently yanked back, brown eyes drawn to narrowed blue. "Who the hell is William?!"

~Part: 47~

"She's still sleeping," groused Spike as he stomped his way into the lobby of the inn. Angelus fought his impulse to roll his eyes, instead settling on glaring at the boy.

With the exception of their occasional conversation, the normally lively inn was quiet, as if a heavy blanket had descended upon the entire building. It was shrouded in darkness, all drapery closed to spare the occupants from the harsh rays of the sun. Sconces on the walls were lit, the extra lighting didn't benefit the vampires that much, but once their guest woke, she would need it to see.

Angelus hadn't bothered to clean up his mess from earlier that morning. Mr. Hathaway lay still and rigid on the floor, slightly behind his desk, obscuring his view of what remained of the old man. The door to the owner's bedroom was closed, shielding their eyes from the sight of Mrs. Hathaway and the gruesome scene Angelus had left in his wake. Christopher remained in his room, on the floor, sprawled out in the most awkward position. Neither one of the vampires had bothered to move him, choosing instead to just shut the door and be done with it. In fact, the only reason they even bothered to hide what they had done was so as not to agitate Willow even more.

Once the sun set, there would be a knock at the door. Clear, sharp, just one simple rap to signal to all those inside that it was time to leave, that the coast was clear. His minions had their orders. One would come for them, the other would ready their carriage; it was simple really. The eldest debated internally whether or not to burn this hovel to the ground once they were no longer confined to the premises. It would make for a spectacular sight that would be sure. If they had the time he might really consider it.

"Of course she's still sleeping," he sighed, head falling back to rest on the cushions of the armchair he was lounging in. There was an ottoman pulled in front of his seated form, long legs resting on the soft surface, crossed at the ankles. His hands were clasped behind his head, looking for the entire world as calm as can be. But at that moment he was anything but calm.

He was annoyed, and tired, but mostly just annoyed. He was Angelus, a legend in his own right, and here he was traipsing about the country looking for some girl. Not even his girl at that. He hadn't slept well in days; unfamiliar mattresses were always hard on his back. He hadn't eaten well in hours; the matronly wife he had fed on earlier certainly didn't count. And Christopher, well, he wasn't particularly filling. Add to that he hadn't had a decent shag since he left London and it makes for one cranky master vampire.

And Spike was working on his last nerve. The blonde had been pacing the floors of his bedroom ever since they had placed the unconscious redhead on his bed. He had been waiting not so patiently for her to wake, but she had yet to do so. Rationally, it came as no surprise. She was exhausted, even more so than the two of them were. She hadn't been eating right, stress was doing a number on her, and she was just emotionally drained. Whether she went into unconsciousness willingly or not, the rest she was granted now was much needed and her body was not yet ready to give it up. To Angelus it made perfect sense, to Spike, it was 'bloody irritating'.

"She's going to sleep as long as she possibly can," Angelus ground out through clenched teeth. "It's nothing to worry about."

Spike merely scoffed and waved off his response, returning to his pacing, footsteps thudding rhythmically on the floor. Angelus closed his eyes tightly, hands coming to slowly massage his temples in hopes of staving off the migraine Spike seemed determined to create.

"She'll be fine," he assured him with a sigh. "Sit down." Spike's only reply was a grunt and the brunette bristled at the knowledge that he was being ignored.

"I said," he hissed threateningly, "Sit. Down!" the last two words were torn from his throat in an inhuman growl. Spike immediately paused, every muscle in his body stilling at the anger in his sire's voice. He turned slowly on his heel, pivoting to face the angry brunette. The steely, amber glare Angelus fixed him with warned him not to test his patience and the blonde hesitantly took the empty seat across from his seething elder.

"Willow is fine," he barked, eyes boring holes into the now slightly nervous blonde. "She doesn't want to wake up, and until she does, she will sleep. Complain one more time and I will cut your tongue out." Spike's lips thinned but he stayed quiet; knowing in this mood Angelus was extremely volatile.

The feet of the ottoman scraped loudly across the hardwood floor as it was propelled forward by Angelus' feet. The lean vampire stood in one fluid motion, graceful despite the obvious tension in his body. He ambled about the lobby, eyes studying the filled bookcases, scouring them for any title of interest. He reached out a hand, fingers skimming the bindings of the many books as he strolled along, trying to reign in his anger.

"Pathetic lot he had," he sneered in disgust at the owner's choice in literature, "Romantic drivel, sappy poetry, all too saccharine for my liking." Spike held his tongue, knowing now would not be the best time to inform his sire of his previous love of such 'sappy poetry' as he called it. "Just as well," he shrugged elegantly. He took his place beside the fireplace, looking so regal as he leaned against the mantle, commanding attention. "We have something that needs discussing."

His hair which brushed his shoulders was pulled back into a loose ponytail with the use of a spare piece of black ribbon. His trousers hung precariously on his hips, the white shirt he had been wearing earlier that day had been removed in hopes of soaking it enough to remove the majority of the bloodstains it had acquired. His eyes held a menacing gleam that any smart man, at the sight of, would interpret as a need for caution. He was a true master in every sense of the word. Strong, able, his very presence demanded respect and fear.

"This has got to end boy," Angelus said darkly, eyes narrowing.

"What's that?" Spike asked smartly, at this very moment uncaring whether he pissed him off or not.

"I will not be wasting anymore of my time, or that of my minions, to search for the likes of her," he replied, hands now clenched by his side. "Now don't get me wrong, I don't mind having the lass around. She's a bit amusing, and you want her, that's fine with me. But this is getting to be ridiculous."

Spike shifted in his seat, nails digging into the leather arms of the chair, blue eyes holding brown in defiance.

"If you are so inept that you cannot control one little girl," snarled Angelus derisively, "then maybe you are not worthy of my efforts. You are far from being a master, no more than a glorified fledgling right now, childe or not, but even when I was your age I could manage keeping some girl around. You look pathetic, letting that slip of a redhead get the best of you at every turn." Snorting in disgust, he shook his head.

"Not only do you look bad, Spike," he smirked, "but you make me look bad. And I can't have that. I haven't worked all these decades to make a name for myself to have it be undermined by the likes of you and that girl." He paused for a tense, silent moment before pushing himself away from the mantle and striding back toward the blonde, a swagger in his step.

"We will return to London shortly," he murmured, "as planned, and you *will* get your precious Willow under control. Or I will be forced to do it for you. And believe me;" he grinned, eyes lighting up in mild eagerness, "I am more than willing to be of service. I'd teach her how she should behave, what it means to truly be the possession of a powerful vampire."

His small smile turned into a wide grin at Spike's obvious anger. He stood before his childe, arms crossing his chest, one eyebrow raised in mocking, his amusement clearly evident. The blonde finally moved, a slight bow of his head answering for him. It was an action that spoke of utter submission and Spike both hated and loved it. If it were anyone but his sire, he wouldn't have allowed them to get away with speaking to him like that, with threatening what belonged to him. And he certainly would not be sitting back quietly, so very subservient. But knowing there was no way to win this particular battle and not wanting him to touch Willow, he sucked up his pride and nodded his understanding.

"That's my good boy," Angelus muttered, honest affection marred by blatant sarcasm. The blonde started when he felt a cold hand pat his cheek teasingly, Angelus looking down at him with a mix of anger and superiority before he turned on his heel and strode toward the hall to find an empty room. Maybe he would be able to get some more sleep before his boys came to get them that evening. The brunette smirked to himself as he strutted down the hall, happy with himself. He let off a little steam and felt better for it. All he wanted to do now was return to the city, maybe crawl in bed with Dru, and only leave to feed on some unsuspecting socialites. That would be the life.

~~~*~~~

Spike remained sitting for a few minutes after his sire's departure. He knew Angelus was growing weary of having to fetch Willow whenever she came up with some brilliant plan of hers to escape him. Didn't she know she shouldn't anger the brunette? Even Spike would have to admit to fearing his elder a bit, it would be foolish not to. But Willow didn't seem to understand what Angelus could really do to her. Spike could only protect her so much. Even with his claim on her, Angelus had the right of sire and even he couldn't dispute that. She would be wise to do as he asked of her from now on. Problem was she was just too damn stubborn.

Sighing in frustration, he gripped the arms of the chair and pushed himself up to stand. Brushing down his slightly wrinkled pants, he straightened and walked solemnly past the library of books, past the now cold body of Mr. Hathaway, and to the hall. He stopped outside his own bedroom door, the one he and Angelus had shared the night before. His sire wasn't in there; he instead was lounging in one of the unoccupied rooms to his left. He twisted the doorknob gently, doing his best to stay quiet.

Stepping inside, his eyes adjusted immediately to the pitch black of the room, focusing on the lightly snoring form upon his bed. Toeing off his shoes silently, he padded to the bed, seeing that there was a small space at the edge of the mattress where he could rest. There were two beds inside the room, but he had no desire to be far from his redhead, this would be the first time in days he had the pleasure of basking in her scent. He slipped off his shirt and let it fall to the floor before climbing in next to the sleeping girl.

He managed to maneuver her around a bit so that he was lying on his back, head resting on the pillow, Willow now using his chest to support her head. He slowly moved her so her arm was resting across his abdomen. He closed his stormy blue eyes, his fingers leisurely running through her fiery hair as he willed himself to join her in slumber. Before finally succumbing to the urge to sleep, he vowed to himself that he wouldn't.that he couldn't let Angelus get his hands on her.

~Part: 48~

Angelus thrust open the front door of the inn the minute the knock sounded, pushing aside the minion roughly and stepping out into the cool night air, eager to be out of the confining building. The streets of Leicester were relatively abandoned even though the sun had only just set. Stalking his way to his waiting carriage, he jumped inside only after handing off his bag to the driver. No more than a minute had gone by before the side door to the carriage opened once more but he didn't bother to offer the girl a hand.

Willow was standing awkwardly outside the carriage, Spike's hand on the small of her back a steady reminder that there was no possible way to leave. Angelus didn't spare her a glance as Spike helped her inside, lifting her gently and pushing her toward the bench seat across from his sire. The blonde hoisted himself inside, the door closing behind him with a shove from their driver. The entire carriage swayed as they felt the minion climb up in front, readying himself to direct the horses.

The girl kept her head down, unable to bring herself to look at Spike and unwilling to look at Angelus. She hadn't spoken much since she had regained consciousness. Neither had Spike for that matter. She had been mildly surprised to wake up in the blonde's arms, the embrace cold and uncomfortable to her. The look in his eyes as he stared down at her as they lay there in silence confused her. There was resolve, determination, love even, and a hint of sadness, maybe regret. She wasn't sure exactly what he regretted, having Angelus kill in front of her, knocking her out? Who knew? But all of that didn't really matter. She knew there was no way to escape him this time, besides she was too tired to even try.

They had remained on the bed, unmoving, unsure what to do next. Then Angelus' voice rang from down the hall, his commands quick and sharp. He wanted them to get up, get moving, and be ready to leave. Spike didn't linger about, instead jumping up at the sound of his sire's voice and hurriedly began packing their things. Willow stood up warily, surprised by his eagerness to obey. Spike rarely was so willing to please. Shaking off her unease as best she could in that situation, she dressed, slipping on the informal gown that Spike had tossed at her, one of the few dresses she still owned that he had brought along with him.

After he had finished haphazardly throwing his clothes in his bag and latching it shut, Spike grabbed the handle and marched toward her. She had just finished readying herself when he grasped her hand tightly in his, squeezing it, not to cause pain but almost to reassure her. Her heart felt like it was racing inside her chest. She didn't want to go back there, back to London. She didn't want to go back to that bedroom in the manor, to her locked room, her comfortable prison. That's what it was really. She was rarely allowed out of the house and on the occasion that she was she was never out of Spike's sight. His ever-watchful eye made her nervous. She just wasn't ready to go back to being someone's possession again; she never wanted to be a possession to begin with.

As if he could sense her dread and apprehension Spike pulled her carefully to him, so they were looking into each other's eyes. He held her slightly teary gaze, icy blue eyes staring at her intently. Expelling an unnecessary breath his head fell forward, forehead resting on hers, still holding her nervous gaze. Her eyes flickered to his mouth, which was no hovering above her own, too close for comfort. But he made no move to kiss her. He said nothing, just stood there until the sound of a loud rap at the front door made them both jump.

Spike heard Angelus moving about in the lobby, grabbing his own bag and heading out the front door. The blonde sighed wearily and took a step back, giving her some much needed space.

"Best not to keep him waiting," he finally murmured, nodding his head toward the door. She didn't move so he tugged on her hand a bit, leading her out of the room, her feet dragging slightly on the floor.

Now she found herself sitting next to the abnormally stoic blonde and across from Angelus who was characteristically hard to read. The car started with a jolt as the horses began to trot. The lone window on the right side of the car allowed her one last view of the town as they rode away toward the woods. It was only just dusk so it was easy to see, the inky blackness of night had not overtaken yet. Everything, buildings, trees, the like were cast in a bluish hue. It was calm, peaceful, almost serene, at least on the outside. But there, in that carriage, the atmosphere was tense, anxious. Willow was waiting for someone to say something while at the same time not wanting to speak at all. Spike was waiting for any evidence of Angelus' mood. And as for the eldest vampire, he just sat back, no expression on his face. He was the very picture of intimidation.

And then he moved. It wasn't much, his hand left his side, slipping into his coat pocket, but it still had Spike on edge. Willow was doing her best to ignore Angelus' actions and Spike's tense stares. The brunette searched for something in his pocket, waiting a beat before pulling out his purchase. He had a heel of bread, not much but enough. Taking it, he tossed it onto the open lap of the redhead and looked at her expectantly. Her eyebrows knitted together questioningly and she dared to look up at him. He raised an eyebrow when she made no move to take the food in her hands.

"Eat," he ordered simply. Spike looked at his sire, then back to Willow, before his curious gaze settled on his sire once more. Willow looked up abruptly, surprised. Angelus covered a smirk at catching them both off guard. The girl opened her mouth but quickly closed it, settling for shaking her head a little. Angelus' expression darkened at her refusal, but he wasn't horribly angry, just annoyed.

"You haven't eaten all day and who knows when you last ate, you have to be hungry. So you'd do well to eat," he informed her, head cocked to the side with exasperation.

"I can't," she whispered softly, a bit meekly. Spike spared her a quick glare. Angelus was actually not being a complete prat and she was defying him, not smart.

"Excuse me," he countered tersely.

"I can't eat in here," she tried to explain, placating, her hands waving around nervously. "It's kind of bouncy in here, with the wheels being on unsteady ground. If I eat I'll get sick, because of the all the motion." She frowned at her explanation, thinking over her wording and cringing. She must have sounded so completely stupid to him, but she wasn't lying. She had horrible motion sickness and it had only increased since she became pregnant.

A low rumble of laughter filled the car as Angelus chuckled, shaking his head at her rather wordy reply. "Well, we can't have that. You'd throw up in here and then where would we be?" he said lightly.

"We'll stop in awhile pet," Spike broke in, relieved at Angelus' calm reaction. "Then you'll eat. We've got to keep your strength up." His hand came up to tuck some loose strands of red hair behind her ear, tips of his fingers brushing her cheek. "When should we be back in the city, you wager?"

"Depends," Angelus replied with a bit of a shrug. "If we stop for the day, then we won't arrive until tomorrow night, maybe early morning. If we keep going then we'd reach London in the middle of the afternoon. The boys can find some shelter for the day and the human we brought with us can take over the driving." Spike nodded. It would be easy enough to find a suitable place for the minions to rest during the daylight hours and simply replace their driver with the man Angelus had insisted on bringing. He finally understood why his sire bothered with the human. It was always useful having someone who could walk around in the sunlight.

"What do you say love?" Spike wondered, glancing at the shaky redhead. He wrapped a loose arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him gingerly, his finger playing with the ends of her hair. "You want to stop for the day or go on?" She shrugged as best she could as she sat stiffly along his side. Personally she didn't care. She had spent the last few hours sleeping and wasn't tired, but then again there were quite a few hours until dawn so she didn't know if she would be tired enough to sleep once the sun had come up. As long as they stopped once for food, she didn't care what they did.

"Let's go straight to London," the blonde decided for her and Angelus nodded his agreement. "Get all this traveling over in one go," he added with a forced smirk. He hated being stuck in these carriages, comfortable or not he loathed the confinement. The sooner they returned to London, the better.

"Sounds fine," sighed Angelus, shifting in his seat so that he was now lounging, one leg propped up on the rest of his seat, the other hanging off to the side, knee bent. "Dru will be happy if we get back early."

"Yeah," snorted Spike with a smirk. "She'll probably punish you for leaving in the first place. Bad Daddy," he chuckled, wagging his finger at him. Angelus merely shook his head in amusement.

"She can try," he said smoothly, licking his lips at the thought. "Might be interesting."

Willow tried to hide her grimace at their discussion. Burrowing closer to Spike's side, her chin tucked to her chest, she shut her eyes and tried her best to block out their conversation, their very presences. If Spike noticed her attempt to withdraw into herself, he didn't say a word. Instead he merely began to pet her hair, fingers threading through the strands in long, smooth caresses. She allowed his gentle ministrations to lull her into a more relaxed state, distantly listening the quiet rumble of his voice as he spoke with his sire. Maybe if she could fall asleep again they would just wake her once they arrived in the city. She had already had enough of idle chit chat with her kidnappers.

~Part: 49~

Sometime after dawn Willow could no longer keep her eyes open. Seeing that she had succumbed to sleep, Spike placed her head to rest in his lap, shifting her body ever so slightly so that she would not be uncomfortable. They had switched drivers just before the sun had risen, leaving the two fledges they were traveling with in a small town about a mile off the beaten path to rest for the day. With hours to go, Spike too allowed himself to drift off after his conversations with Angelus had turned into companionable silence.

Angelus on the other hand did not sleep. The sun was high in the sky; it was almost midday, signaling that they only had an hour or two, three at the most to go until they reached London. But as they drew nearer and nearer to the city, he grew uneasy. Why he couldn't say. There was just this feeling, settling uncomfortably at the pit of his stomach, warning him of something. He had grown bored with watching Spike and Willow sleep which unfortunately left him with no distraction from his worry. He tried to shake it off, to ignore it, but it wouldn't go away.

Time passed at an achingly slow pace. Eventually Spike woke, he rarely needed more than a few hours rest, and he shook the redhead awake once the carriage's paths changed from dirt to cobblestone. She could see the sunlight gleaming against the black curtain used to block the only window, offering meager protection from the daylight. As the car moved farther into the city, voices could be heard outside. People milling about, running errands, meeting friends for tea, basking in the rare cloudless day. Willow tried to block out all the noise. Those were things she didn't get to do anymore, hadn't since her William had been turned. It felt horrible, sitting inside that darkened carriage, being taunted by the sounds of people, just normal everyday people, living as they pleased. It wasn't fair.

The horses' reins were tugged sharply and the car lurched forward before settling. The constant sounds of chattering was now only in the distance. The carriage was shadowed slightly by the manor and the trees in front of it, allowing the vampires some room to move around once they stepped outside. Their driver hopped off his seat, feet landing firmly on the ground before he cleared a safe path for his master so he would not be burned by the afternoon sun. He opened the door to the carriage, stepping aside to allow the trio to pass.

Angelus climbed out first, eyes squinting at the bright light around him. He looked to their driver, telling him in quick tones to gather their luggage and meet them inside. Spike jumped out, offering a hand to Willow who hesitantly took it, looking up in sorrow at the imposing manor before her; back to her elegant prison.

The two vampires hurried to the front door, eager to be out of the light. The feel of it, indirect sunlight or not, made their skin crawl. No matter how old a vampire became, the sun would always cause an irritating itch they wouldn't be able to scratch. It was a most uncomfortable feeling. Eager to be inside, Angelus rushed up the steps and shoved open the doors. Spike pulled Willow along after him, following closely behind his sire. Footsteps sounded behind them but it was only their driver with the luggage, who closed the door to the manor once he stepped inside as well.

Silence reigned throughout the house, which came as no real surprise. There were still three hours until sunset and while some of the older minions and childer might be awake in the daytime, most of the fledglings would still be sleeping soundly. Tossing his coat off to the side, uncaring if it landed on the table in the center of the entry hall or on the floor, Angelus grimaced. His shoulders were stiff, muscles taut from such a long period of time stuck in a cramped space. Spike followed his lead, throwing off the bulky garment as well.

The brunette walked calmly down the hall to the closed double doors at the end. The parlor should be empty at that hour, he supposed, and he needed to some time to relax, to unwind. Spike debated whether to follow him or to lead Willow to bed, but decided she had slept enough along the way. She was probably in no mood to rest.

Angelus threw open the doors to the parlor with much flourish, unprepared to see a fire burning in the fireplace, warming the usually drafty room. He heard a giggle to his right, recognizing the childish laugh as belonging to Drusilla. It wasn't that unusual for her to be awake this early so he merely shrugged to himself and turned in a half circle to greet her. After all, she had to be overjoyed to see him back so early.

And he froze. Spike nearly walked straight into him but halted his steps just in time. His blue eyes were confused as he looked past his sire. Dru was sprawled across the chaise, her fingers running through Miss Edith's hair gently, and a manic grin across her delicate features. And in the armchair to her left was a blonde. She was obviously a vampire; too pale and predatory to be anything else. Her hair was piled on top of her head; her lips were tilted into a mocking smile as she spied Angelus.

"Darla," he breathed, his posture unintentionally straightening when he noticed her presence. At least he finally figured out the cause for his uneasiness during the ride home. His tone was strong and confident, but had an underlying sense of worry.

Spike's head whipped around to stare at Angelus, recognizing his grandsire's name as it rolled from the brunette's lips. Willow watched the group with a careful eye, unsure of what was going on. She had no clue who that blonde woman was or why the unflappable Angelus seemed almost submissive at the sight of the seemingly demure woman.

"Well, well," sighed Darla, her lips pressed into a thin line as she took in the sight of her greatest childe and his newest creation. "Look who decided to grace us with their presence."She studied the somewhat lanky dirty blonde standing behind him who was holding the hand of a meek looking redhead. Her lip curled back in distaste, unimpressed by her boy's choice in childer. First there was Penn, who was smart enough but didn't have the drive to become a master. Then there was Drusilla, who belonged in Bedlam, and now William. Or was it Spike now? She wasn't sure and she didn't particularly care.

Dru had filled in her on the goings on in the manor as best she could. But the insane woman was hardly a font of information. And what she did know about the newest member of their line was not encouraging. For as brilliant as her Angelus could be, he had the absolute worst taste in childer. This boy looked weak and from she had heard he was. Having such an unnatural attachment to a mortal certainly didn't help the image of the Order of Aurelius. Their clan's reputation was already suffering and this boy was only going to make them look worse.

"Sire I.I didn't know you were coming to London," stammered Angelus. There was only one person in his life he never wanted to anger and that was Darla. Well, unless making her mad was likely to get him laid, then he was all for it. But now was not the time for that. She didn't look pleased at all and when Darla was miserable, so was everyone else.

"I can see that," she mused with a humorless smirk. "Imagine my surprise when I come all the way to England only to be greeted by Dru," she sneered, glaring at the woman in disgust, earning her a bright grin from the insane vampiress.

"We had tea and cakes and spoke of the most delicious things," Dru purred as she gazed longingly at her sire.

"Not now Princess," Angelus reprimanded gently, smiling to lessen the sting of his order. She pouted a bit and Darla rolled her eyes, silently damning her boy for making Drusilla in the first place. "Why don't you go to your room Dru," he offered. She looked a bit reluctant to acquiesce but stood slowly, unwilling to be disobedient. "Take Willow with you, will you Princess?"

"Now, now, leave the girl here," tsked Darla as she stood gracefully, eyeing them all evenly. "You can go Dru," she barked, uncaring if she offended the moody brunette. Drusilla whimpered at the harsh command but slinked out of the room, head bowed, doll clutched tightly to her chest. The double doors clicked shut behind her and the parlor descended into silence.

Darla ambled across the room at a leisurely pace. She could feel eyes on her, those of her boy and his childe. But she was looking straight ahead at the timid girl almost hiding behind William. Her eyes were downcast, her shoulders hunched, heart pounding erratically in her chest. She brushed past Angelus and stepped in front of William. She grinned in amusement when he puffed his chest out and took an almost imperceptible step in front of the girl. But Darla would not be swayed. Her grin melted instantly and she let out a warning growl, low and threatening. He took the hint and bowed his head, stepping aside and allowing her to move closer to the redhead.

Cold fingers skimmed across her cheek and Willow nearly flinched. Thin fingers trailed down her jaw and gripped her chin tightly, forcing her to look into emotionless blue eyes. Darla cocked her head to the side, letting her eyes drift shut for a moment as she let the steady rhythm of her pounding heartbeat wash over her.

"Aren't you a pretty thing?" she cooed with an insincere smile. Spike and Angelus shared a nervous glance as Darla hovered over the redhead. Willow held her gaze firmly, her exhaustion getting the better of her. Normally she would be cowering in fear or trembling, but she was too nerve-wracked to care. She let Darla take her time examining her, stalking her as she circled the redhead. "Do you know who I am dear?" the blonde whispered with a wolfish grin.

"No," Willow replied softly.

"You didn't tell her about me?" pouted Darla, bottom lip sticking out as she glanced at Angelus, who tensed at her attention. "Now that's just not right." Her hand glided up into her silky red hair, running her fingers through the tousled strands. "We'll just have to get to know each other better. But that will have to wait," she decided as her teasing eyes suddenly hardened. "Leave us," she commanded and Willow took a step back, looking to Spike in questioning. He took a step toward her, about to lead her out of the parlor but was stopped.

"Not you," Darla hissed, glaring at Spike warningly. "You will stay, she will go. Now." Angelus gave him a hard look and Spike just nodded to the nervous redhead. Willow turned on her heel and quickly left the room, eager to be away from the tense environment. She followed the familiar path to Spike's bedroom and closed the door behind her before letting herself collapse on the mattress. She was extremely thankful to no longer be in the parlor with all those powerful vampires, her heart just couldn't take it.

"What brings you to London, my love?" Angelus inquired politely, grasping her hand in his and bringing it to his lips, a little more at ease now that it was only him and his childe in the room now. Darla had always despised keeping human pets and Drusilla seemed to just rub her the wrong way, not that he couldn't sympathize, so chances were she'd be a little more relaxed once the two women were gone.

Darla was not fazed by his attentive behavior, merely fixing him with a stern look before pulling her hand from his and focusing on the newest member of their family. She slinked across the room to sit on the chaise, Angelus taking it upon himself to slip in beside her, ever the dutiful childe. Spike, uncomfortable just standing in the center of the parlor, moved to take a seat in the armchair.

"Did I tell you to sit?" Darla asked frostily. Spike paused, reigning in his impulse to tell her that he didn't give a damn what she told him, and halted his steps, turning to face her. She looked most displeased with his very presence and was openly scowling at the young man.

"I must wonder, my dear boy," she drawled, never looking to Angelus but placing her hand on his thigh as she stared at Spike, "what prompted you to keep this one." The tinkling of laughter that followed out of the woman's mouth incensed Spike and he clenched his jaw. Who was she to judge him? She only met him moments ago and already she hated him. He got the impression that she hated a lot of people.

"He looks weak," she decided with a frown. "He's not particularly handsome, is he? And if you ask me he seems far too attached to that little redhead. So what on earth possessed you turn him?"

Angelus glared at him when Spike growled angrily. He saw the smug smile on Darla's face and knew she was happy with his reaction. This was going to be a very long night.

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