Learning Curve

Author:  Kat, a.k.a. KallieRose

Feedback:  Yes, please  :-)

Rating: So far PG-13.  I have no idea where this is going, so I'll leave it at that for now.

Pairing:  W/S

Disclaimer: All is owned by the great Joss, I merely use the characters for my own sick purposes <g>.

Summary:  Giles asks Spike for a favor that he probably shouldn't have.

Timeline:  Takes place sometime around 4.  Spike's escaped the Initiative and is helping the gang.

Author's note:  Thanks to my lovely betas, Knightie and evilFFgirl, for all of their help.  However, all errors and screw-ups are completely mine  :-)

Author's note 2:  Hi all...I know I've been busy playing with Angelus for a while, but my Spike muse finally caught up with me and made me start something new.  Hope you guys like it  :-)

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~Part: 1~

The blond vampire walked through the dark cemetery, his movements showing a predatory grace that only a true creature of the night could manage.  Only silence greeted his ears, broken occasionally by the sound of a far away car passing by.

It had been a productive evening, all in all.  He had had to see that bitch of a slayer which always tended to leave him feeling angry and restless, but on the bright side, the watcher had given him some cash and a half-dozen bags of blood in return for information he had about a Vandro demon that had been plaguing the town.  He had thought to string them along for a bit, make them beg for the information before he gave it to him, but a poker game had called, so he had made his transaction and left.

The poker game had gone well too.  An extra $150 filled his pockets, and he couldn't wait to spend it.  Thoughts of whiskey, straight up, filled his mind, and he could almost taste the amber liquid that would soon burn its way down his throat.

He stopped a moment, cocking his head to the side as a faint scratching noise reached his ears.  It was so quiet that he had almost missed it; indeed, if it hadn't been for the silence of the evening, it would have escaped his notice altogether.

Curiosity, along with a lack of anything better to do, caused him to seek out the source of the sound.  He passed by large tombstones, the older decaying ones spewing small stones onto the path on which he walked.   A large mausoleum loomed before him, and on the cement steps of the edifice he discovered the source of the noises.

Lying amongst the red and yellow leaves of autumn lay a woman, curled tightly into a small bundle of flesh.  Shoulder-length red hair hid her face, but her scent told him immediately that it was Red, the slayer's sidekick and the moron's best friend.  The scent of her blood was thick in the air, teasing his demon with its freshness.

Spike groaned.  It just figured.  He had had a pleasant end to his evening planned:  a little alcohol and blood, maybe some tele, but of course something like this had to come along and cock it all up.  He knelt down next to the girl, gently pulling her hands away from her face.  Sure enough, the frightened green eyes of the slayer's pet met his.  When she realized who it was in front of her, her body relaxed just a bit.

"Spike," she said, the words a mere whisper.  The effort it cost her was obvious; her breathing became more labored, and a thin trail of blood dripped from the corner of her waxen lips.

"Pet?" he asked, frowning.  His hands worked to straighten her body, wanting to assess the damage done to her.  At his touch, she clenched her body tighter, curling her head back down like a turtle withdrawing into its shell.

"I need to get a look at you, Red," he insisted, his movements becoming less gentle as he pried her body apart.  The scent of fresh blood hit him again, and he had to stop for a moment as he tamped down the demon.  She fought him briefly, but painful shudders wracked her body and finally she relaxed, letting him take a closer look at her.

His stomach clenched as he took in her condition.  Her shirt was in tatters, ripped from her body and hanging loosely by the arms.  The pale expanse of her stomach gleamed at him, the flesh spotted with deep cuts and the beginnings of bruises from what looked like a fairly brutal beating.  Her skirt was ripped up the front, the elastic that held it in place around her waist mocking in its ineffectiveness.

He sighed when he saw the dried blood on her thighs.  She had been raped, obviously.  More than once, probably.  Humans could be damned cruel.  Yes, it had definitely been a twisted human mind at work here, probably more than one.  The scent of their semen convinced him of that, along with the way they had just left her there.  At least a vampire would have drained her and been done with it, instead of leaving her broken body here to suffer.

"Hurts," she whimpered, her eyes squeezed shut as another wave of pain wracked her body.

Looking closer, he noticed that her right arm was bent at an unnatural angle, the bone poking awkwardly against the skin.  'Broken,' he thought idly.  Bruising around the rib cage made him certain that there was more internal damage.  The sound of her raspy, shallow breathing brought his attention back to her.

She was dying.  It was painfully obvious.  Taking her to a hospital would be a waste of time.  The nearest one was miles away, and by the time he got her there she would be gone.

So what should he do?  He could take her back to his crypt; make her last minutes more comfortable.  Comfort wasn't something he usually associated with his dank, dark home, but it would be better than leaving her here to breathe her last.

Take her to the Watcher?  He could just imagine how well that would go.  That bitch Slayer was already looking for an excuse to stake him.  This would just give her added incentive, even if it wasn't really his fault.  Still, the Watcher's house was closer than his place, and maybe it would be better if she left this world surrounded by people she cared about, instead of alone in the dark.

A car drove by, spewing 50s music in its wake, and reminding Spike that there were others around besides the two of them.  Time was passing, and he needed to make his decision.

He reached down and picked up the small redhead, hearing the bones beneath the skin grate against each other as he shifted her.  She whimpered in his arms and then was quiet.  Probably passed out from the pain, if he had to guess.  Not long now.

Hurrying as fast as he could, he made his way the short distance to his destination.  The man seemed to be trying to live a life of gentlemanly leisure these days, but the vampire could see the lines of boredom etched clearly onto his face.  Spike gave it another six months before Giles found himself another career of some sort.  Certainly his options were limited, what with his after-hours activities, but Spike was sure that the older man would come up with something.

Looking down at the young woman in his arms, he took a moment to consider her.  They had never been friends.  In fact, as recently as a week ago he had wanted to kill her quite badly.  Her little stunt with that spell had left him with the taste of Slayer in his mouth for days.  Dirt and sulfur and just a hint of bile; it had taken him a dozen bags of blood and several bottles of Scotch before the taste had left.

Other than that, their associations had been brief and usually rather one-sided.  She was one of those annoying people who always tried to be your friend, and seem quite unaware of the fact that you don't *want* them as a friend.  He had done his best to discourage her; had been quite successful in fact.  Not successful enough to have her calling the slayer and demanding his immediate death, but successful enough that she had finally given up and left him alone.

A soft moan reached his ears, and the bundle he held start to struggle again. "NO!" she yelled, her body coming alive in his arms.

"Stop it," he insisted, "It's just me.  Spike.  We're almost at Giles'.  You'll be safe there."  He tried to make his voice sound reassuring and non-threatening.  After a moment her movements stopped again, and he allowed himself to feel relief.  If someone had overheard him and tried to stop them, it would be bloody inconvenient.

Before he knew it, he saw the door of Giles' apartment before him.  Pounding loudly, the thought suddenly occurred to him that perhaps the other man wasn't home.  But before the thought had time to take root he heard movement within the house.

"Who the hell-" the voice stopped as Giles looked through the peephole.  Seeing the two on his doorstep, he flung open the door and pulled them quickly inside.

"What happened?" he growled, watching as Spike laid Willow out carefully on the old ratty couch.  He came to stand beside the vampire, looking down at the dying girl with equal parts horror and sorrow.

She had been his friend, his mentor; his child really, in all the ways that mattered.  And now she was lying on his couch, every breath a struggle, as her life leaked away before his eyes.

"What happened?" he repeated dully, kneeling down to take Willow's hand.  He ran a gentle hand over her cheek, his face growing colder and angrier as he realized how badly she had been brutalized.

"Dunno," Spike admitted.  "Found her over at Restfield on my way home.  Apparently some bastards thought she looked like fun.  Probably some drunken frat jackasses from that college. Maybe she fought back.  Dunno.  She was already too far-gone to take to a hospital.  Decided to take her here instead."

Giles nodded at his words, lost in his own thoughts.  How could someone hurt such a gentle creature, he wanted to ask.  Wanted to scream.  Wanted to cry.

With all the danger the children exposed themselves to on a daily basis it was inevitable that something would happen sooner or later.  But this, this had happened at the hands of humans.  Not some nameless creature or soulless demon.  Some group of human beings, with souls to tell them right from wrong, had done this to her.

"Well, guess you'll want to rally round the troops; let her say her good-byes and all.  I'll just head home now."

The voice of the vampire startled him from his reverie.  The vampire!

A wild idea took shape in his head, and the previously grief-stricken look in his eyes was replaced by something darker, more devious.

"Spike," he said, drawing the word out.  The tone of his voice reminded Spike of a wheeler-dealer, and the blond wondered what the other man would be trying to sell him.

"Yeah," Spike answered, already halfway to the door, his back to the Watcher.

"All that delicious blood flowing beneath her veins.  Does it call to you?"

"Always calls to me," he replied morosely, wondering what the git was getting at.  Bad enough to have to smell it, but to be teased with the fact that he couldn't have any, well that was too much.

"You could have it," he persuaded in a slow, seductive voice.

"Yeah, and have the Slayer playing ping-pong with my balls before I had a chance to enjoy the last drop.  What the hell are you playing at?"

Giles looked down at the carpet, unable to say the words.  Unable to ask the blond to turn the girl he had watched over for three years.  But he was equally unable to imagine a life without her.  She was the heart of the group, her unyielding cheerfulness making even the worst possible situation seem manageable.  Countless times she had kept Xander and Buffy from coming to blows.  She had even managed to keep *him* from manhandling the young brunette, and that was quite a feat.

"I have an Orb of Thessulah," he explained quietly, his eyes still riveted to her face.  She looked so peaceful at that moment, although he knew that she must be suffering greatly.

"Yeah?"

"And I have the soul restoration spell.  You could turn her and I could curse her."

"Why?" he barked sharply, turning to face Giles.  "Why on earth would I do something like that?  Why would you even ask me to?"

"Because she's too special to lose because of some nameless bastards.  She was smart.  Had a future with good things ahead of her.  And with your help, she still could." And because I'm weak and scared, Giles added to himself, as he came to stand beside Spike, pulling him back towards the couch.  They both looked down at Willow, watching as she fought to breathe through bloodless lips.

"I've fixed the curse," he continued, reaching out to grip Spike's arm with an iron grasp.  "No happiness clause.  She'd be free from that, free to find some measure of joy.  And if we curse her before she wakes she'll never know the guilt that plagues Angel.  She'll be just as she always was, only faster, stronger, better."

Mine, the vampire thought.  She would be mine.  Something to make this existence bearable.  Someone to occupy his bed during the long boring days, and someone to keep him company during the empty, dark nights.  So maybe she wasn't his first choice, but then again his options had become damned limited with the soddin' chip in head.  And she was certainly better than that stupid bint Harmony.  Hell, just the sound of her name still made him want to wretch.  'I want to turn Antonio Banderas, I want to turn Tom Cruise, I want to go to France.'  He'd have to see how Willow felt about the whole France issue, but he suspected that other than that she would be a fairly tolerable companion.

The Watcher and the others would try to remind her of who she was and who they expected her to be, but he would be her sire, and that was a bond that they could never sever.  The thought of having someone, of owning them, made his spirits soar.

Giles watched as Spike considered his request.  Would he do it?  Could he do it?  She was still alive, after all.  The plan might come to naught if the chip interfered with his ability to turn her.  But he suspected that if the marks were made by someone else, if all he had to do was slip his fangs inside holes that already existed, then perhaps it would be possible.  It was certainly worth a try.

"Wait a minute," Spike exclaimed, something Giles mentioned earlier finally making its way through his mind.  "If you already have the curse fixed without the happiness clause, and you have the Orb too, then why is the poof still pining away for the Slayer?  Why aren't they humpin' like nauseating little bunnies?  For that matter, why haven't you tried the spell on me?  Not that I'm complainin', of course.  But a fellow has a right to know!"

"Relax Spike.  You're safe.  It will only work on newly turned vampires.  At least, I hope it will.  I haven't ever had a chance to test it."

The blond nodded, relief showing clearly on his handsome face.   "Okay, so say I do this.  Not sayin' I will, but if I did.  What's to stop your bitch from staking my undead ass?"

"I'll take care of Buffy," Giles said grimly.  "She won't bother you, as long as you don't give her a reason to."

"So I turn her, and in return I get...what?"

"Fuck, Spike.  What more do you want from me?  I'll give you whatever I can.  Just do it now, before it's too late!"  The desperation in the human's voice was obvious; the man was hanging onto his temper, but not by much.  Spike knew better than to push him any farther.  Recompense could be discussed at a later date.

Spike looked down at the small figure on the couch.  He knelt down next to her, taking her small hand in his.  "Pet, the Watcher wants me to turn you," he whispered.

Her eyes fluttered open for a moment, and he was surprised to see that horror flooded them.  Even at death's door she would be a do-gooder, it seemed.

"He's going to give you a soul, but without the happiness clause.  So you'll be okay," he reassured, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

"Wanna die."  The words were whispered from dried lips, so quiet that only the vampire heard her.

"It's just the pain," he whispered back, running a gentle finger over her lips.  "It'll be gone soon, and you'll never feel it again."

Giles watched Spike speak gently to Willow and was surprised by the care he was showing her.  He had expected Spike to jump at the chance to create a childe, but the other's reaction had not been as he had imagined.  Perhaps that bode well for the future.  He certainly hoped so.

It was obvious that breathing was becoming more and more difficult for Willow; the air was filled with the sounds of her attempts to draw in enough oxygen to survive.  Now or never, Spike thought, as he shifted slightly, pulling Willow's head to the side.

A wide gash on her neck oozed blood, as did many other spots on her body.  Apparently her attackers had had a knife, and no scruples about using it.  Still, it might work to his advantage.  He bent down over the still body, face sliding smoothly into his vampire features.  Slowly, carefully, he eased his fangs into the skin that had been sliced open, his body relaxing when he felt no pain.

The blood began to pour into his mouth and he sucked lightly, teasing more of the heady mixture onto his tongue.  She tasted sweet and pure and yet there was a slight aftertaste of darkness.  The indescribable flavor of magic underlined all others, mixing them together into something lush and succulent.

Regretfully he pulled away from her all too soon.  With his fangs he cut a clean, bold path across his wrist, watching the blood well reluctantly to the surface. He placed his wrist over her face, watching in silence as the drops fell onto her lips.

At first nothing happened, but before too long her survival instincts kicked in and her mouth opened just enough for her tongue to swipe at the blood staining her lips.  Her mouth opened wider, and soon she was suckling at his wrist with abandon, greedily gulping the blood and swallowing convulsively.

After what seemed like an eternity to Giles, she finally stopped and fell into what seemed to be a dead sleep.  There was no longer the gentle rise and fall of her breasts to indicate that life still existed; the stillness of her body convinced him of the harsh reality that she was no longer alive.

He looked down at Spike, who was watching her with hooded eyes, his expression unreadable.

"What do we do now?" he asked hesitantly.

Spike came to his feet, grabbing the girl and hoisting her body into his arms, his hold both possessive and protective.  "*We* don't do anything.  She goes home with me and I wait for her to wake.  You work your curse and let me take care of the rest."

"But-"

"No, no buts.  I take her with me, and you stay and meet with the rest of your little band of do-gooders.  They need to be ready to deal with her when the time comes."

"But I really think I should be there when she wakes.  She'll need to see a comforting face-"

Spike shot Giles a look of exasperation.  "Fine, you want me to spell it out, I'll spell it out.  When she wakes she'll be out of control.  The demon will be clamoring for food; she'll need blood badly, and she won't be all that picky about where she gets it." He looked at the man's neck with hungry eyes and licked his lips, watching as understanding dawned in Giles' eyes.

"But she will have the soul.  That should keep her from doing anything to harm me."

Spike shrugged.  "Maybe.  Maybe not.  It's a soul, not a leash.  You said yourself that you've never done this before.  Besides, whoever did this to her had a soul.  Don't see that it bothered *them* much."

Giles considered the vampire's words for a moment, before bowing his head in acceptance.  "Very well.  You do what you need to do."  He looked at the young woman in Spike's arms, wondering sadly if he had made the right decision after all.  "Take care of her," he said softly.

Spike gave him a nod, before walking to the door.  "Do your mojo quickly.  Need it to be finished before she wakes.  You should have about twelve hours, give or take.  Call me when it's done."

"Very well," Giles replied, suddenly looking very old and uncertain.  He watched with haunted eyes as the vampire left, carrying the body of his new childe.

~Part: 2~

Spike drew open the door to his crypt, slamming it behind him and carrying his burden down to the lower level, where he kept his living quarters.  They weren't much; an old but relatively clean box spring and mattress sat on the floor, flanked on either side by battered wood end tables.  A chest of drawers completed the mismatched ensemble.  The room was lit by a couple of halogen floor lamps, placed unobtrusively in the corners next to the end tables.  It wasn't the Waldorf Astoria, but it was better than nothing.  Better than being dust.

He settled Willow carefully on the bed, trying to make her as comfortable as possible.  The arm that had been broken was placed carefully at her side, the bones shifted carefully so that they would mend properly.  Best to get it done right the first time.

There was a large bottle of water next to the bed, and he went to his dresser to grab a ratty t-shirt, pouring the water over it until it was completely soaked.  Moving over to his childe, he quickly disposed of the tattered clothes she wore and bathed the skin gently with the wet rag.  He started with her feet; she had lost her shoes somewhere between the cemetery and Giles' apartment and he had never bothered to retrieve them.  Not much point in it; she would probably find her taste in clothes and shoes altered by her transformation.  Most vampires did.  He would have someone get her clothing for the next day or two, until they had a chance to go out together to pick out her new wardrobe.

He moved his way up her thighs, nudging her legs apart when he got closer to her sex.  The dried blood was thick on her thighs, mixed with the semen from her attackers.  Definitely more than one.  He felt a momentary stab of pity for the girl; she had been annoying to him personally, but she had done nothing to deserve this.

How hypocritical that seemed, coming from him.  He and Angelus would have gloried in fucking her to death back in the day, but they were demons.  It was expected.  To have humans act in that way was for some reason disgusting to him.  They had no demons; they should have to follow a different set of rules.  At least that was the way he saw it.

He continued washing her, dampening and cleaning the rag again when it became so dirty that it was useless.  Moving up to her flat stomach, he admired her shape, admitting that he had never really considered her body before.  She was not unpleasing, in a simple, natural sort of way.  Her breasts were small, but not too small, topped with perfect round dark nipples.  Her flat abdomen flowed smoothly into shapely hips.  Legs that were long and elegant topped off the picture, terminating in dainty feet that he would need to cover with shoes very soon, he remembered.  No childe of his would walk around without shoes.

He would have to talk to the Watcher about money for her things, and possibly finding a better place for them to live.  The possibilities for emotional blackmail were amazing.  They would all want to do what they could for the friend they no longer knew, and he would be happy to come along for the ride.

In the meantime, now that she was clean, there was nothing for him to do except wait.  And drink.  Lots of blood would be needed to help her body recover from the damage done to it.  Since the best source of blood was sire's blood, he would need to be ready to provide it for her when she was ready.

He just hoped that Giles would be able to curse Willow immediately as promised; otherwise when she awoke he would have a real problem on his hands.

~~~*~~~

Rupert Giles knocked back a scotch on the rocks, hoping that the liquid courage would translate into actual courage for the phone calls he now needed to make.  He would need the others' help to curse Willow, and he dreaded telling the children of her fate.

He could put it off no longer.  An hour had already passed since Spike had left with his new childe, and time would need to be spent explaining the circumstances before he could expect their help in performing the curse.

With a hand that shook slightly, he plucked the phone from its cradle and dialed Buffy's number from memory.

"Hello?" From the way Buffy answered the phone, Giles suspected that she knew something was wrong already.

"Buffy?  It's Giles."

"Hey Giles.  Is Willow there with you?  She's not home yet.  I was just about to roam campus a bit to see if I could find her.  It's kind of late, and I don't really think she—"

"I know where she is," he cut in blandly, wanting to curtail her rambling explanation.  "I need you to get over here quickly, Buffy.  We need to talk."

"Um, okay." She sounded slightly nonplussed at his behavior, but willing to help.  "I'll head over right now."

"Please do.  I'll be waiting," he answered, hanging up the phone abruptly.  The longer he stayed on the phone, the better the chance that she would ask him questions he did not wish to answer.

The next call was to Xander's house.  Fortunately for him, the boy answered on the first ring.  Unfortunately for him, it took him several minutes for Xander to shake away the cobwebs of sleep and grasp the seriousness of the conversation.  Giles told him only what he needed to in order to get the youth to come out as quickly as he could, asking the young man to bring Anya with him.  Her manners were appalling, but she had a sharp mind and often thought of things that the rest of them had missed.

His calls made, Giles sat morosely on the floor, surrounding himself with the ingredients he would need to complete the curse.

~~~*~~~

Surprisingly, Xander and Anya were the first to arrive.  He had expected Buffy to be earlier since she was already awake, but the news that his lifelong friend was in trouble had brought Xander wide awake in no time, and judging by the way he looked, he had taken little time to make himself presentable, merely throwing on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before rushing over.  Anya trailed behind him, cursing slightly at the lateness of the hour and mumbling something about 'make-up sex' that made both males blush.

Buffy was only about a minute behind them, coming through the door muttering about 'stupid vampires' and brushing dust from the collar of her coat.  Apparently she had run into some trouble on the way over, which explained why Xander had been able to get there first.

"So what's up with Willow?" she asked, flinging herself down on the couch next to her two friends.

Giles took a deep breath, wishing he knew a better way to tell them what had happened.  No matter how many times he had witnessed death, there never seemed to be an easy way to break it to the loved ones of the departed.

"Willow was attacked tonight," he began, watching the shock and horror as it filled the children's faces.  "It wasn't vampires or demons or anything such as that," he continued before they could question him further.  "Just your garden variety rapists/murderers."

He stopped for a moment, trying to compose himself before telling them the rest.  "She's dead."

They stared at him uncomprehendingly.  Death was something that happened to someone else, not to one of them.  They accepted this fact as truth and held onto it whenever they were scared.  Sure, Anya had been around; she knew better.  But for Xander and Buffy it all seemed like an unreal joke.

They waited patiently for Giles to say 'April Fools' or 'Just kidding,' but he stood there before them, looking tired and old.  Somewhere deep down they began to understand that he was serious, and their faces crumpled, Xander going to Anya for comfort while Buffy suffered alone.

"There's more," he added gently, watching as three sets of guarded eyes focused on him, wondering what more there could possibly be.  "Spike found her in Restfield Cemetery and brought her here.  She was already dying; there was no point in taking her to a hospital or calling anyone.  So I…" His voice trailed off nervously.

He found that he could not say the words to them.  Would they understand why he had done it, or would they condemn him for his actions?  They were really all the family he had, and the thought of their disapproval, or even their hatred, bothered him more than he cared to admit.

"Giles?" Buffy asked, coming to her feet and standing next to him.  "What is it?  What did you do?"

"I asked Spike to turn her," he said, the words coming out in a whispered rush.  Shock registered on their faces, and he hastened to add, "I'm going to curse her with a soul.  I found another curse that works only on newly turned vampires; there is no happiness clause.  Because she has not yet fed or killed, I don't think she'll experience the same emotional turmoil that Angel does.  And without the happiness clause, she still has a chance at a semi-normal life," he finished.

Anya was the first of them to grasp the entirety of what had happened.  She eyed him with surprise, but not disapproval.  "You did what you thought best," she simply said.  "I don't know if it will end up working out, but you had to try, I suppose."

He chanced a look at Buffy, still standing in front of him.  Her eyes were closed, but he could sense that her thoughts were flying a mile a minute.  He reached out to place a hand on her arm, her eyes opening slowly at the gentle touch.  "I'm sorry Giles.  I don't know what to say.  I—I hope it works out, but I'm scared," she admitted quietly.

Giles took her into his arms and held her, running a hand over her hair as she cried for the loss of her best friend.  They had been so close, sharing all the good times as well as the bad ones.  He knew that no matter what happened, the relationship between the two women had changed irrevocably, and wished that he could offer something other than meaningless words of consolation.

"How could you?" Xander asked, his eyes red with grief and his cheeks streaked with tears.  "She wouldn't have wanted that."

"I'm-I'm sorry," the older man stuttered, questioning his decision for what felt like the thousandth time.  Had he done the right thing?  Would she forgive him?  Would she even know him?  So many questions.  "I did the best that I could," he added, his voice tired and old.

"Where is she?  Right now?" the boy asked, hoping against hope that the answer wouldn't be what he was sure it was.

"She's with Spike, healing.  There was…substantial damage to her body," he told them, stumbling over the words.  He would not describe for them what had been done to her.  It was too cruel.

"I want to see her," Buffy and Xander demanded in unison.

Giles understood their reaction, but he knew that Spike had been correct earlier.  She would not be ready to see them for at least a couple of days.  But how would he explain it to them?

"First things first," he said, moving slowly as he motioned to the magic ingredients set carefully on the floor.  "I will need your help with the curse.  It needs to be done immediately, so that when she does wake up, the soul will already be in place."

A flurry of reluctant nods greeted his statement, and he put them to work, making the preparations for the curse.

~Part: 3~

Giles was pushed backwards violently as the spirit of the ancient Rom left his body.  He had felt the magic working within him as he completed the curse.  There was no doubt in his mind that it had been successful.

"Is that it?" Anya asked, somewhat disappointed.  For some reason she had expected something different than the glowy orb thing and the light wind.  Giles' face had merely taken on an otherworldly appearance as the last of the spell had been uttered, and then he had been pushed away from them, his face returning to its previous sad, tired expression.

"That's it," he confirmed, coming shakily to his feet.  He was quite weary; Spike had interrupted his slumber hours before, and it was now nearing 4am.  The magic he had called still pulsed in his veins, but he felt it leave a little at a time, and once it was gone, he knew he would be unable to stay awake any longer.  But before he could rest, he needed to do one last thing.

He dialed the number to Spike's cell phone, waiting for the vampire to answer.

"Yeah?" came the quiet voice.

"It's done."

"Good.  I'll call you when I can.  Not sure how things will go once she's awake."

"I understand," Giles said.  "Good luck."

~~~*~~~

It had been a long night, and instead of sending them home to sleep, Giles suggested the three stay at his apartment.  Buffy took the couch, while Xander and Anya had opted for the spare room.  It was a measure of their weariness that Anya didn't even mention sex once that evening.  Well, not counting her initial embarrassing comment about 'make-up sex.'

He didn't sleep well, but he did manage to get a couple of hours, his dreams haunted by visions of blond and redheaded vampires wreaking havoc on the town.  Had he made a mistake?  Would the curse really work?  What if he had merely made a terrible situation even worse with his actions?  Doubts descended upon him like locusts, pecking away at his certainty that he had done the right thing and leaving him unsure and depressed.

A soft footfall caught his attention, and he saw Buffy's head peering hesitantly around the door.  "'Morning," she greeted softly, coming into the room and sitting on his bed, her hazel eyes peering into his.

"Good morning," he answered, vaguely uncomfortable with the fact that she was in his bedroom.  He had slept with his boxers on, just in case, but there was still an old-fashioned part of him that thought it was slightly scandalous to 'chat' with a woman while he was in his underwear, even if he was completely covered.

He must have been blushing, or at least noticeably uncomfortable, because Buffy merely gave him a good-natured smile.  "Don't worry," she teased, "I'm not here to steal your virtue.  Just wanted to let you know that breakfast is cooking, if you're interested. Well, actually it's more like lunch.  We could call it brunch and split the difference, I suppose."

Without another word she got up and left the room, closing the door quietly behind her.  'I will never understand her,' he thought to himself, as he sat up and contemplated his options.  Throw on some sweats and get brunch, or jump into the shower and risk Xander eating everything before he could get downstairs.

He ran a tired hand through his hair, frowning at the way it felt.  A shower it was, then.  Hopefully Buffy could convince Xander to leave a little food for the rest of them, especially considering that it was Giles' house, and therefore Giles' food he was consuming.

~~~*~~~

Neatly showered, dressed, and still quite hungry, Giles made his way down the stairs to his living room.  He was not surprised to see Xander sitting on the couch, deeply engrossed in some silly cartoon, shoveling food quickly into his mouth.  Anya sat beside him, running her fingers absently through his hair, her mind obviously elsewhere.

Buffy was still in the kitchen, but as she heard him enter the living room she came out, carrying a plateful of scrambled eggs and toast, which she set down at the table.  A second plate already sat on the table, although the food looked more like it had been toyed with than eaten.

Giles seated himself in front of the untouched plate, his eyes falling appreciatively on the cup of tea Buffy placed before him.  She sat down across from him and began to toy restlessly with the food on the plate in front of her, moving it from one side of the plate to the other, but never taking a bite.

Buffy waited until he finished his meal; he had to give her credit for that.  But once the last forkful of eggs was swallowed she started in on him.

"I want to see Willow.  She needs to know that we're there for her when she wakes up."

Giles had been waiting for this.  Now that the curse was finished and they had all had a good night's sleep, or at least a couple of hours' sleep, they would want to see her.  There was a need to feel like they were doing something constructive; helping in some way.  The only way they could figure to do that was by going to see Willow.

Now all he had to do was figure out how to convince them that that was the one thing they absolutely could not do.  As painful as it was to admit, he saw now that Spike was right.  She would need to be away from them for at least the first couple of days.

"I'm sorry Buffy," he said gently, "But I just don't think that's a good idea right now."

"Why not?" Xander called from the living room, grabbing the remote and turning off the TV.  The sudden silence surrounded them, until Giles cleared his throat and spoke.

"There are several reasons, actually.  The first is that she will be extremely weak for the first couple of days.  Her body needs to heal, and in order to heal she will need blood.  Spike will have to feed her constantly, and I don't think that is something we will want to interrupt.

Their minds contemplated his words, Buffy and Xander looking slightly queasy at the thought of Willow feeding from Spike.  Anya merely looked curious, but thankfully managed to keep her mouth shut, something for which Giles was eternally grateful.  Perhaps she had more of a talent for tact than he had previously thought.

"In addition," he continued, "It is quite likely that she will need some time to adjust to-well-being a vampire.  Willow is an extremely self-conscious person, and all of the changes she will undergo will take some getting used to.  Pushing her into a meeting before she is ready might damage her already delicate mental condition."

They all understood that reason thankfully, although he could tell that Buffy still wanted to push it.  "And last of all, we are not yet sure how much control she will have over the demon, and how quickly it will manifest.  To surround her with humans, with what her demon sees as food, would put quite a strain on her during these early days.  I think we all agree that that is something we would like to avoid, yes?"

Buffy and Xander nodded reluctantly while Anya met his eyes with her own understanding ones.  She had seen enough to know that he spoke the truth.

Xander fidgeted on the couch, the need for some sort of action still obvious.  His next words confirmed it.  "We have to do something Giles.  If we can't see Willow, what *can* we do?"

Buffy stood up, grabbing her and Giles' breakfast plates and taking them to the kitchen.  "I don't know about you, but I'm going to find out who did this to her.  At least it'll keep my mind off of everything else until I can see her.  So what do we know about this, Giles?"

He should have expected this, he realized.  With Buffy's action-oriented mindset, her thoughts would automatically drift towards finding the problem and fixing it.  Unfortunately this time the problem wouldn't be quite so easy to solve.

"I really don't know much," Giles admitted.  "Spike found her at Restfield, as I told you last night.  She had been beaten, cut, and," he hesitated a moment, "Violated.  Her right arm looked to be broken, and we suspect that it was internal damage that led to her death.  Possibly a punctured lung, combined with something else."

Buffy looked angry, while Xander merely looked sick.  Giles hated having to tell them such things, but he didn't feel like he could sugarcoat it for them.  Sooner or later they would hear the truth; it might as well be now.

"Are you sure it wasn't a vampire or demon of some sort?" Xander asked.

"Spike seemed pretty certain.  He examined her more closely than I did."

Xander let out a snort of contempt.  "Of course he's going to blame a human.  Shift the blame away from him and his kind.  How could he tell the difference anyway?  He wasn't there, was he?"

"And when did we start taking the words of a bottle-blond?" Buffy added.

Giles gave Buffy a pointed look, eyeing her roots skeptically.  "There were—secretions; the scent was human."

"Besides, a vampire would have drained her," Anya reminded them.  "Rape is more of a human crime.  Sure, vampires do it occasionally, but only because they like the taste of fear in the blood.  If she wasn't drained, then it doesn't make much sense."

Something about the calm, rational way that Anya discussed this made Giles rather uncomfortable, but he knew that it wasn't precisely Anya's fault.  She was drawing on decades of experience as a demon and trying to view this rationally.  The fact that she hadn't known Willow as long as the rest of them probably had something to do with her detachment as well.

"Okay, so we find the human bastards that did this to her.  That's my plan," Buffy stated.

"And do what?" Xander asked bitterly.  "Call the police?  That'd go well.  'Hello officer, these men killed my friend.  Throw them in jail.  Where's the body?  Um, well, that's going to be a little difficult.  Can't you just take my word for it?'  Yeah, I don't see that working so well."

The boy had a point; there was no way that the criminals would be punished by the justice system without proof and a body was a pretty big piece of missing evidence.  It would be difficult to even prove that a crime had been committed.

"They'll pay, even if I have to make them pay myself," Buffy muttered, leaving the kitchen and coming to sit beside Xander.  "Trust me Xander.  I'm going to find out who did this.  It might not be easy, but if they've done it once, I bet they'll do it again.  Or maybe they've done it before.  We should look it up…"

Her words trailed off abruptly.  She had been about to say that they should look it up online.  'They' meaning Willow, of course.  She had always been their researcher; their internet surfer; their finder.  Here was yet another way in which her absence would be felt.

Silence covered the room as they sank into thoughts of the young woman who was so very dear to them.

~Part: 4~

Pain consumed her; a dull ache in her right arm and another sharper ache in her chest were the first to catch her attention.  She tried to remember what had happened and why she hurt, but all she could come up with were scattered bits and pieces of consciousness.

She was dying.  That much she remembered clearly.  There had been too many of them; she had tried to fight, but it had just made them angry.  She remembered the fetid stench of breath, the smell of alcohol that clung to their mouths as they tried to kiss her.  They had been drunk.  She remembered that too.

Spike had been there, she thought with surprise.  But no, that had been later.  He had taken her somewhere.  To…to Giles.  Why?  Why had he taken her to Giles' apartment instead of a hospital or a doctor?  Had he known already that she was going to die?

And if she was dead, then why did she hurt?  The afterlife was supposed to be a place where nothing hurt anymore.  She was relatively sure of that fact.  Unless she had gone the other direction.  But why would she have?  She had never done an evil deed that she could remember.  Well, she had lied to her parents once or twice.  But when you lied in order to avert an apocalypse, wasn't that an exception?  She was almost positive she had read that somewhere.

Willow heard sounds coming from above her.  But that didn't make sense.  Where was she?  Realizing that her eyes were still closed, she opened them slowly, taking in the small room around her.  The furnishings didn't impress her much, but something about it seemed familiar.  She was relatively sure that she had never been here before, but something nagged at a corner of her memory.

It was the smell.  No, smell wasn't the right word.  Scent?  That word might come closer.  There was a scent of cigarettes and leather, and something else oddly familiar.

A quiet whoosh of sound caught her attention and she turned her head, her eyes widening in surprise when she saw Spike walking towards her, a coffee mug held loosely in his hand.  'Sire,' a voice inside her head whispered.  She shook her head in confusion.

"Sire?" she repeated the word aloud, testing the feel of it.

"Red," he answered back, sitting down on the bed in front of her.

"I—I don't understand," she whispered, her eyes clouded with uncertainty.

"What do you remember?"

"Pain.  So much pain.  Everything hurt.  You were there, and Giles.  And then I died.  Or I thought I did," she amended quickly.

"No, you were right the first time," he told her matter-of-factly, watching for a reaction.

Her eyes narrowed as she came to the inevitable conclusion.  "Why?  You never liked me.  Could barely stand to be around me.  Why would you turn me?"  Her voice was cold and demanding, a bit of her demon coming through in the tone.

He shrugged, and her eyes flashed with anger at the cavalier response.  She tried to struggle to a sitting position, but the pain in her right arm made her hiss and fall back to the bed.  So instead she had to settle for glaring at him.

The demon inside her seemed to encourage a temper that the human had only shown once or twice.  Spike's own demon whispered tempting thoughts in his ear.  She was challenging him, it insisted.  He needed to provoke her to anger, only to subdue her by force and teach her to reign in her impudence.

He acknowledged that it was a tempting idea for later, but she was still injured and would be no challenge right now.  Better to wait until she was healed and could give him a good fight.

"Take some of this," he ordered, sitting down on the bed, facing her.  He held out the coffee cup, which she now realized was filled with blood.

"I don't think I can—"

As the scent of the blood hit her nose, her demon features appeared and her voice faltered, then stopped completely.  She ran curious fingers over the ridges of her brow, down to the points of her sharp fangs.  One of the fingers tested a point, and she jerked it back in surprise.  She watched curiously as a small point of blood appeared on her finger.

Spike leaned forward, taking her hand gently in his, and drew the finger into his mouth.  He sucked on it lightly, bringing just a bit more blood to the surface and swiping at it with his cool tongue.

A soft growl filled the room as Willow tried to jerk her hand out of his grasp.  "Mine!" her demon insisted angrily.

"No," Spike replied calmly, holding onto her hand firmly as she continued to fight him, "Mine."

She realized the futility in fighting, and instead merely stared at him with eyes that were an odd mixture of green and yellow.  The combination made her eyes look almost blue at first glance.  "Let go of my hand," she insisted, enunciating each word slowly and clearly.

He held her hand in his own, turning it this way and that, watching her as he did so.  "Time you learned your first lesson pet," he said, his voice slightly menacing.  "As your sire, everything you have and everything that you are is mine.  If I want this blood, or this finger," he wiggled it in front of her, mocking her anger and her attempts to fight him, "I'll damn well take it."  He leaned over her, his lips just inches from her ear.  "And there's not a damn thing you can do about it," he whispered before pulling away from her and releasing her hand.

Anger shone in her eyes as she shoved her hand beneath bedcovers.  "Bastard," she hissed.

He merely smiled mockingly at her, picking up the coffee mug he had placed on the floor earlier.  "Are you done with your little temper tantrum pet?  Would you like some of this?"

Her nostrils flared as she watched him hold the blood she craved, wanting to taste it so badly that it hurt, yet torn by a need to rebel against him.  Finally practicality outweighed pride and she brought her hand back out, reaching warily for the cup.

She half expected him to jerk the mug away from her as she grabbed it, but instead he merely allowed her to take it without comment.  She brought it to her mouth eagerly, gulping down the liquid so desperately that some of it spilled onto the bedding that covered her.

Licking her lips in satisfaction, she tried to catalog the taste.  She had expected it to taste of copper or something else metallic.  But there had been other things hidden within the flavor as well; something reminiscent of cinnamon and flowers had danced on her tongue, along with an aftertaste of apple blossoms.  She pondered that as she concentrated on dismissing the demon visage.

After a couple of unsuccessful seconds, she realized that the key was to calm herself, keeping her mind centered, while she focused on a picture of her human face.  Feeling her features shift, she brought her hand up again to be sure, gliding it carefully over the skin.

No fangs, no ridges, 100% human.  Well, human-looking, at least.  She let the demon glide to the front again, changing back and forth a couple of times to make sure she had the hang of it.  A smile of childish pride suffused her face when she finished, and for a moment Spike was reminded of the shy, simple girl she used to be.

A sudden thought struck her and she peeked beneath the covers, frowning as she noticed that she was naked.  She gave Spike a questioning look, careful not to look like she was trying to accuse him.  No need to get the whole 'I'm the boss of you' speech twice in one day.

"You were pretty dirty and banged up, Red.  What you wore no longer qualified as rags, much less clothing.  I threw 'em out and then cleaned you up.  Once you're stronger I'll find you something to wear."

She accepted the explanation without comment, her gaze becoming distant. He knew where her mind had gone and waited her out, knowing that she would talk when she was ready.

"I want to find them," she said finally, her hands clenched into fists.  Her face was devoid of emotion, except for her eyes, which burned with anger.  "I want to make them hurt like I did."

Spike nodded his understanding, not surprised that she had revenge on her mind.  Demons were notorious for their need for revenge.

"And then when I've hurt them as badly as they hurt me, I want to hurt them even more," she added fiercely.

"You'll hear their screams forever, pet.  We'll have to look for them discreetly, though.  I suspect the Watcher and your little friends wouldn't be too keen on your idea of payback."

"I won't have to look for them," she told him confidently in that cold, emotionless voice. "I know exactly who and where they are."

"And just how do you know that?" he asked curiously.

"Because I knew them.  And even better, so do you."

Curiouser and curiouser.  He and Willow hadn't exactly traveled in the same social circles, in fact not even close.  As far as he was aware the only people that they both knew were her little band of misfits, and there was no way he would believe that Xander or Giles had anything to do with this.

"Care to enlighten me, pet?"

"I heard them talking.  They were from the Initiative," she told him, watching with satisfaction as his practiced look of unconcern melted into surprise and dark rage.

The Initiative.

~Part: 5~

As Spike sat watching her through hooded eyes, she began to talk about what had happened to her that evening.  Her story took the form of the third person, and he wondered whether it was a function of her demon, or whether she used it as a way to distance herself from all that had been done to her.

"It was a beautiful night," Willow began, her eyes closed as she brought the memories forward.  "Warm and toasty, a light breeze blowing, the stars were twinkling in the sky."  She paused for a moment, lost in thought.

"She took a short-cut back to the dorms, going through the cemetery even though she knew that she shouldn't.  The joke was on her this time," she said with a wry smile.  "Always looking out for demons and vampires; it never occurred to her that humans could be just as fatal."

"They quickly surrounded her, all stealthy and doing that dark clothing, 'creature of the night' thing like you guys do.  Their faces were covered with black ski masks, which was a sure sign that they were up to no good."

"They wanted to know if she had seen anyone out there.  When she said no, they talked to someone on a walkie-talkie, telling someone else at 'base' that they hadn't seen 'it' yet, but that they would report in as soon as they did.  Something about how they would not let the hostile escape them this time.  They signed off, and then one of them suggested that maybe she could help them pass the time."  Her nose wrinkled in distaste.  "She could smell the alcohol; they had been drinking, they reeked of it.  She tried to move away from them, slip out of their grasp, but one of them grabbed her and held her as they groped her."

Green eyes opened to stare at him, hoping that by focusing on him, it would blot the other images out.  "They threw her to the ground and held her, as they took turns using her body.  Once she tried to escape, but they caught her quickly and kicked her until she couldn't move anymore.  Things broke and grated inside her body, and in the end all she could do was lie there and cry.  Then one of them took out a knife and proposed an experiment:  how many times could they cut her before she passed out?  It was cruel and heartless and an *experiment*" she spit the last word out harshly, sickened by all of it.

"Then the walkie-talkies started squawking again, and someone said that they all had to go back to the dorms; that the Professor had new orders for them."

Spike was silent as he contemplated her story.  "So they were Initiative.  And they're on campus.  That's interesting."

"Yeah.  Interesting," she said, her voice flat.

"So they just left you there?"

"Hmmm…yeah.  They were pretty sure I was already dead, or close to it."  She had stopped referring to herself in the third person, and Spike took that as a positive change.

He watched her stifle a yawn and knew that she needed to get some more sleep.  Her body was healing much more quickly than when she was human, but she still needed to rest, and another feeding probably wouldn't hurt much either.

"Pet?"

"Um?  Yes Spike?"

"You need to feed some more."

"Okay," she agreed docilely.  He took that as a good sign; maybe she wouldn't fight what he was about to suggest.

"Thing is, sire's blood would probably be best for you."

She nodded, eyeing him curiously.

"If you want to scoot over a bit, I can feed you.  That okay?"

Willow was surprised by his solicitous behavior, but certainly didn't see any point in commenting on it.  She moved away from him a bit, leaving him room to lie down next to her.  Having him so close to her – having anyone that close to her – made her nervous, but she did her best to control the impulse to pull away.

The demon inside her began to crow with eagerness at the thought of sire's blood, and Willow finally let the feeling fill her and override the nervousness she felt.  She looked at him with new eyes, seeing a vampire who would be everything to her:  master, father, teacher, and maybe someday something more.

He watched the expressions pass across her face, enjoying the acceptance and worship he saw there.  Using a sharp fingernail, he slashed a cut across the pale column of his throat, smelling the blood as it came to the surface.  He laid there passively, waiting for her to come to him.

She moved towards him, scooting awkwardly across the bed as she tried not to use her injured arm.  At last she looked at his neck, eyeing the blood that dripped tantalizingly from the open wood as it dribbled down the side.  Giving him a quick glance for approval, which she received, she morphed into her vampire face.  Her tongue ran lazily along the skin of his neck, following the path that the blood had taken, but in reverse, finally ending at the quickly healing cut on his neck.

"Go on, Red.  It's all right."

"Will it hurt?"

"Maybe just a little.  But not really.  Hard to explain.  You'll know soon enough," he promised.

With his words of encouragement, she leaned in again and sunk her teeth into the flesh of his neck.  When he didn't fight her, she went even deeper, her fangs finding the artery easily.  Blood flooded her mouth; delicious, pure, wild blood, the same and yet completely different from what she had tasted earlier.  It was like the difference between apples and apple pie.  One was nice, although rather plain.  But the other one was ten times better, full of flavors and intensity that she never imagined existed.

She adored his blood, worshipped every mouthful of it.  A soft moan filled the silence of the room and she was surprised to discover that it was her own.  Self-control was slipping away; she wanted to stay like this forever, no matter what the cost.

Spike let her take as much as he could, but when he started to feel just the slightest bit lightheaded he pushed her away gently.  He was amused to hear a slight growl come from her, but merely laughed softly at the sound.

"Go to sleep pet," he commanded, and although he saw her fight to keep her eyes open for a moment, she quickly gave up the battle and succumbed to sleep.

~~~*~~~

Willow awoke several hours later, wide-awake now that she had slept for almost an entire day.  She watched Spike sleep, her demon reveling in his nearness, while her soul was slightly uneasy about the same thing.   The events of her attack were still fresh in her mind, and the thought of someone touching her caused a slight flutter of panic to form somewhere in her stomach.

Physically she was feeling much, much better.  Just like her old self.  No, not just like that; better.  Her sharper eyes penetrated the darkness that surrounded her, seeing details she would never have been able to pick out with her weak human eyes.  'Hmmm…this is kind of cool,' she thought.

She tried her ears next, playing with her senses as she would a new and interesting toy.  Nothing much to hear, really.  Apparently cemeteries *were* dead in more than one way.  Kinda disappointing, that.

Her eyes drifted to the vampire lying next to her.  He looked so peaceful and almost childlike in sleep.  A question, the big question, was stuck in her mind; why had he turned her?  They hadn't really had a chance to talk about it, but she wondered about it all the same.

The fact that she didn't want to rip into Buffy's neck and suck out all of her blood led her to believe that she did, in fact, have a soul.  Giles' doing, of course.  But why had Spike agreed to go along with it?  Surely he would have preferred her to be soul-less.

But that still didn't answer the question of why Spike had agreed to turn her in the first place.

She thought of the others and how they would react to her changes.  Would they hate her?  Would she hate them?  The thought of a slayer brought a slightly uncomfortable feeling of nausea to her stomach, but other than that it seemed to have no affect at all.  Or maybe she was just hungry.  That was another strong possibility.

She could sense, somehow, that it was late at night.  Maybe that was another of her super senses?  Vampires could usually tell when dawn was approaching…some sort of internal clock thing, Giles had told them.  So that was kind of cool, actually.

A prickling sensation along the base of her spine brought her attention back to Spike, who was looking at her through bleary eyes.  "What ya need, pet?" he asked groggily before closing his eyes again.

"I'm a little hungry," Willow admitted.  She was also a little bored, but she figured that hungry would garner her a little more sympathy than bored.

"More blood upstairs in the fridge," he murmured before turning over onto his side and again doing his impression of a corpse.

Willow got out of bed quietly and crept around the bed, eyeing the ladder up to the main level.  She climbed it easy, making her way to the kitchenette and the promised blood.

The refrigerator was almost empty, except for the red plastic packets and a Styrofoam take-out container.  Deciding to snoop a bit, she lifted the lid of the container, surprised to see that it contained leftover chicken wings.  She had never really thought much about whether vampires ate human food, but apparently Spike did.  Interesting.

Willow grabbed a packet of blood and emptied it into a mug before putting it quietly into the microwave.  How long did one cook blood, she wondered.  Maybe 45 seconds would be a good start?  Deciding that it would have to do, she set the timer and watched it, stopping the machine before it made its annoying little 'beep, beep, beep' noise, which was sure to wake Spike up.

Her steps led her back towards what was apparently the living room, and she sat down on the couch.  She took a sip of the blood, disappointed to find that it was not full of the extraordinarily tasty flavors she had enjoyed when she drank from Spike.  Was it because he was her sire?  Was sire's blood somehow tastier than blood from a stranger?  She would have to ask.  But later, not now.  She suspected that Spike would be annoyed if she woke him again, and pissing off one's sire on your first full day as a vampire was probably not a very smart move.

She would just add it to the growing list of questions she had for him, she decided, wondering if there was a paper and pencil anywhere.  She really needed to make a list.

A slight buzzing sound caught her attention, and she looked down to see a small cell phone sitting on the end table next to her elbow.  Vampires had cell phones?

The device was set on vibrate instead of ring, which was why it was now skittering across the end table instead of ringing and waking Spike up.  She wondered who would call him, and curiosity got the better of her as she looked at the display.  The number of the caller was oddly familiar, and she realized with a start that it belonged to Giles.  Without any further thought she hit the 'talk' button and put the phone up to her ear.

~Part: 6~

"Hello?"

"Willow?"  Giles sounded surprised to hear her; obviously he had expected Spike to answer.

"Yep," she confirmed.

"Is everything all right?" Giles asked, his voice showing his concern quite clearly.

"Umm hmm," she answered, wondering which of her myriad questions to ask first.  Asking, 'How could you let Spike turn me and make me one of the evil undead,' seemed like something she really ought to work up to and not just blurt out.

"Is Spike there?" he asked.

"He's sleeping.  Or at least he was.  He might be awake now.   I think I might have broken him," she confessed awkwardly.

"What?!"

"Well, he was feeding me, you know, letting me bite him.  And I think maybe I took more than I was supposed to, because now I'm wide awake and he's just lying there.  And now I'm kinda bored," she practically whined.

"Willow, have you been drinking coffee?" Giles asked, slightly alarmed by her ramble.  Apparently vampires *could* ramble.

"No!" she said vehemently.  Coffee?  Hmm…what would happen if she drank coffee now, she wondered.  Would she still bounce of the walls like she did when she was a human?  The idea intrigued her, and she resolved to find some coffee as soon as she could so that she could answer that question.

"I know I seem a little wired," she said, "But I think it's only my clocks fighting."

"Clocks?  Are fighting?  I don't understand."

"You know, Giles, like your body's internal clock.  Like, I'm usually a morning person, so my body's alarm clock is set to go off in the morning.  But now that I'm a vampire, I guess I'm more of an 'up all night' kind of girl, and it's kind of hard to get used to."

More silence from Giles' end of the phone.

"Willow, I think I should speak to Spike," the Watcher told her, wondering why the vampire was sleeping while his young and newly turned ward was awake and apparently bored.  The phrase 'idle hands are the devil's playground' came to mind and he became even more uneasy.

Willow contemplated his request.  No, he had phrased it as a request, but it had the tone of a demand.  *Not* very nice.  Had Giles always been such a fuddy-duddy?  She remembered being quite fond of him in the past, even looking up to him and seeking his counsel on occasion.

Although Giles continued to speak, Willow began to tune out his voice, her attention captured by something she heard outside.  It was only the faintest of sounds, but her keen ears were able to pick it out amongst the sounds of Giles voice and the wind as it howled through the crypt.  The phone was dropped on the couch, forgotten, as her senses concentrated on following the sound.

~~~*~~~

The sound of Giles' and Willow's conversations brought Spike back to consciousness again, albeit grudgingly.  He had hoped for a couple more hours of sleep, but apparently that wasn't going to happen.  Now that he was awake, hunger began to gnaw at him, so he climbed the ladder and headed towards the kitchen.

He had expected to see Willow sitting on the couch, phone in hand, but she was nowhere to be found.  A frown crossed his face, although he could feel through their bond that she was not in any trouble.  Still, she was young enough that she might be in grave danger without ever being aware of it.

Angry tones spewed from the discarded cell phone, and he grabbed the instrument, putting it up to his ear.  The Watcher seemed to be having himself a bit of a rant, he thought with amusement.

"Keep your pants on," he growled, interrupting the flow of concerned clucking noises from the other man.  "What do you want?"

"Spike, thank goodness," Giles replied, his tone a bit more relaxed.  "Willow seems to be a little—off.  We were talking, and then she just stopped answering.  I'm not sure what's wrong with her; she was acting quite unlike herself."

"Well what the hell do you expect?" the vampire growled, annoyed at the implied criticism of his childe.  "Instant vampire with a soul, just add blood?  Doesn't bloody well work that way.  She's confused, and curious, and of course she's going to need some time to sort herself out."

"But I thought—"

"Yeah, well that's what you get for thinking," he shot back angrily.

"Fine.  Would you please put Willow back on the line so that I can apologize then?"

Spike was not about to admit that, at that precise moment, he wasn't sure exactly where the redhead was.  Certainly she was nearby, but he wasn't sure exactly where.  Taking a couple of steps towards the door, he muttered a quick "Sure," into the phone, as he headed off in search of his wayward childe.

As he approached the front door, he watched in relief as it opened to admit Willow, cradling what looked to be a pile of gray dust.  Upon closer examination, the 'dust' turned out to be a mangy, flea-bitten kitten.  'Fuck, another Dru,' he thought pathetically.  He was *not* going to play babysitter to her AND a kitten.  Nope, not going to happen.

"Pet," he remonstrated, "Giles was getting a mite bit concerned.  Seems you ran off and left him, mid-conversation."

"But Spike," she said, holding the kitten she held in her hands towards him, as if it would explain everything, "Look, it's a kitten."

"Yes Red, I see that," he replied, as if talking to a small child.  "But you can't go running off whenever you feel like it.  You're not completely healthy yet, and I still need to teach you a lot of things before you can go out alone."

"But," she whined softly, batting her eyelashes at him.

'Fuck, shades of Harmony to her now,' he thought dispiritedly.  'She starts talking about France and I'll stake her myself, I will. Don't care what the bloody Slayer says.'

"What's going on, Spike?"  He had forgotten about the cell phone in his hand, but the other man's voice brought his attention back to the phone.  He held it out to Willow, stepping back as she tried to place the kitten in his hands.

Juggling both the animated cat and the small phone was a bit of a challenge, but she sorted it out eventually, cradling the kitten against her shoulder as she held the phone in her other hand.

"Hi Giles.  Sorry I left ya like that.  But I heard something, and then there was this adorable little kitten."

Spike glared at her when she mentioned the kitten, and she frowned at him in return.  "Can I keep it?" she asked eagerly, although neither man was sure exactly who she was asking.

"I don't see why not," Giles answered calmly, at the same time that Spike snarled, "Not a chance in hell."

She made a little pout, looking for all the world like a little girl with her wide innocent eyes.  "Please Spike?" she whispered forlornly.

The vampire merely shook his head, impervious to her attempts to sway him.

"Willow?  Give Spike the phone for a moment?" Giles asked gently.

She did as he asked, and the vampire snatched the phone angrily out of her hand, giving her a furious glare at the same time.

"Spike?"

"No."

"You haven't even heard what I'm going to say yet," Giles reasoned.

"Doesn't matter.  I'm not taking care of another creature.  She's enough."

"I'll take care of it all by myself," Willow called from the kitchen, where she seemed to be searching the refrigerator for something.

'Fat chance finding anything there,' he thought happily.  Then he remembered the chicken wings from the other night, and his spirits flagged.  Sure enough, he walked into the kitchen just in time to see her placing a plate of his leftovers on the floor.  The pathetic puffball ate them quickly, looking almost feral as it scarfed down the food.

He sighed, wondering when and how his life had begun to spiral completely out of his control.  Oh, that's right, it had happened when SHE came along.

"Spike," Giles voice reminded him, "The more comfortable she feels, the quicker she'll heal, and the sooner you'll get her out of your home."

"Yeah, about that," Spike said thoughtfully.  "This place isn't bad for a bachelor pad, but it's a little cramped for two.  Besides, you wouldn't want your Red to live in a crypt, would you?"

Giles considered the matter.  Certainly he understood the manipulation that the vampire was attempting, but at the same time he had to admit that the blond had a point.  If Willow was to have any type of normal life, and that was certainly what he still hoped for her, then she would need a regular residence.  And since Spike seemed to be along for the ride, at least for now…

"I might know someone who might know someone," he acknowledged slowly.  "It won't be a penthouse apartment, but I might be able to find you something aboveground."

"Right then," Spike drawled, satisfied by what he was hearing in the Watcher's voice, "Tell you what, you find something for me, and she can keep the kitten.  Deal?"

"Deal," Giles agreed.

"Good, now leave me alone until you have something set up.  Red and I have some things we need to get settled."  Like who is in charge here, he thought grimly.

"Yes, well, I will give you a call as soon as I have some information for you.  Good-bye then, and please say good-bye to Willow as well."

"Yeah, whatever," Spike said, flipping the phone closed.  "Watcher says goodbye," he muttered, watching her pick up the kitten again and cuddle it to her shoulder.

"I'm naming her Buffy," she told him, petting the creature's back and smiling at the soft purring sound that emanated from the small animal.

Spike stared at her, shock and horror filling his eyes.  "Okay," he growled, "I think I've been a pretty good sport about this, all things considered.  Turned you like the Watcher asked, gave you my blood, lettin' you stay in my place.  Even let you keep that, that, thing," he sputtered.  "But I'm NOT going to let you name that animal after the slayer.  Just give me one good reason for it," he ranted.  "Just one!"

She cocked her head innocently at him, her eyes staring up at him with merriment.  "Okay, here's your one good reason.  Now be honest," she reminded him.  "Haven't you always wanted a Slayer as a pet?"

He stared at her in surprise, and then gave a sharp bark of laughter, holding out his hands to take a look at the kitten.  "Let's take a look at you then, Buffy."  Turning to look at the kitten's face, he took in her sharp teeth and the predatory gleam in her eye.

"Okay, maybe she's not so bad after all," he muttered, giving her back to the redhead.

She smiled at him, one of the few genuine ones he'd seen from her in quite a while, and cuddled the kitten to her chest.  "Thanks, Spike," she said softly.

~~~*~~~

Meanwhile, across town, Giles was talking to Buffy, trying to explain to the blond that things at Chez Spike were not as bad as they had thought.  Between the three of them, Giles, Buffy and Xander had come up with all manners of awful things that were happening between Spike and their friend.  And when their imaginations had slowed down, Anya was always happy to throw in a little something she'd heard here or there in order to keep the conversation, not to mention the guilt, flowing.

"Seriously Buffy, everything there is fine.  Spike is taking care of Willow just fine.  In fact, although they seem to be bickering like five-year-olds, I would say that they're getting along quite well."

"I still think I should be there, Giles.  She needs to know that we're thinking of her, and supporting her, and all that."

"Buffy," Giles sighed, rubbing a hand over his forehead in an attempt to ward off the impending headache, "We've been over this before.  She needs time to herself.  And besides, I did mention that we were all concerned for her."

He knew that Buffy only wanted what was best for Willow, but he seemed unable to convince her that things were running smoothly.  Well, as smoothly as could be expected, under the circumstances.

"I'll tell you what," he commented, hoping that this idea would calm some of her fears.  "I'm going to be getting Willow, and Spike, of course, a place of their own.  I have a contact that I am hoping will be able to procure a small home for them.  When he does, why don't you and Xander take some of Willow's things from her house?  You can help decorate, and I'll give you a little money—just a little! —and you can scour the second-hand stores for some furniture and a microwave, and anything else you think they might need.  Will that make you feel a little better?"

Buffy pondered his offer, grateful to be given the opportunity to help her friend.  Plus the shopping with someone else's money--that was always fun.

"Fine Giles, but under one condition.  When we're done, I get to see her.  Maybe we can throw her a mini-housewarming party?"

Giles thought for a moment, trying to figure out the timeline.  It would take at least a day before he heard from his contact, and then he could count on another day while the children organized and decorated the house.  Yes, he thought that given that amount of time, a small get-together might be okay.

"I'll have to talk to Spike to confirm, but yes, I think a small party would be in order."

"Cool!" Buffy said, glad to have a purpose again.  "I'll talk to Xander and we'll get started as soon as we see the place.  Give me a call when you get it, and give me the address and all that, okay Giles?"

"Certainly Buffy.  I'll give you a call as soon as I know it.  Or as soon as I have anything else to report," he added conscientiously.

"Thanks Giles," came her soft reply.

"Don't worry Buffy.  It will all turn out okay."

~Part: 7~

Willow had gone to bed shortly after their cat-naming discussion, happy that he had acquiesced to her request to name the kitten after Buffy.  She took her pet with her, and it had settled in on the pillow next to her.  It had played with her hair for a few minutes, a rather half-hearted exercise, he noticed, before curling up next to her and going to sleep itself.

Spike watched them both for a moment before heading back upstairs to have some blood.  He knew that he still needed to have a conversation with Willow about who was in charge, but decided that it could wait until she was more settled.  Perhaps tomorrow, after they had both had a good day's sleep.

He sat on the couch, his long legs propped up on the table before him, as he drank his blood and contemplated the twists and turns his life had taken recently.  Ever since receiving the chip his life had been completely out of his control.  The thought angered him, but he knew that there was nothing he could do about it, at least not now.

But there was one thing he could control, and that was his childe.  He would teach her how to be a proper vampire:  how to hunt, to stalk, and to defend herself.  Power was vitally important in the vampire hierarchy, and if she couldn't prove to those around her that she had it, then she would end up as someone else's pet.  Except that her hypothetical owner wouldn't treat her with the gentleness and affection that she lavished upon the furry beast lying next to her in bed. The way some vampires treated their pets…well it would almost be better to be dead.

And maybe, just maybe, he could convince her to help get the bloody chip out of his head.  It wouldn't be easy; she still had the soul whispering all those 'rights' and 'wrongs' in her ear.  But their sire-childe bond was a strong one, and if he trained her properly, perhaps he could convince her to help.  Someday.

Until then, he decided he might as well go back downstairs and get some sleep.  Tomorrow night he would start her training, and something told him that he would need all his wits about him for that.

~~~*~~~

Spike was awakened by the sound of a scream in his ear.  It took a moment for him to orient himself and realize that the scream was not the product of an enjoyable night of torture, but was instead coming from the small redhead thrashing around in bed next to him.

She had become entangled in her bedding, the covers twisting and ensnaring her legs as she tried to free herself from them, screams and moans of, 'no, No, NO,' issuing from her mouth.  Obviously she was having a nightmare, and it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what traumatic event she was re-living.

Not knowing what else to do, he gently disentangled her from the covers, using his hands and softly spoken words to try to relax her body.  After a minute it seemed to work, and she relaxed slightly, her movements becoming less frantic.  Then, without warning, her eyes flew open, green flecked with gold, and she threw her body as far away from him as she could, ending up lying on the ground as she rolled completely off the bed in her attempt to get away from him.

He leaned over the side of the bed, looking down on her with a concerned expression.

"Sorry," she mumbled, flinching away as he held out a hand meant to pull her back up to bed.

He was patient; years of dealing with Dru had made that a necessity.  She reminded him a bit of the insane vampiress; sad, damaged, and yet stronger than she realized.  He shoved the thought away quickly; he had promised himself that he would not go down that path again.  A relationship with someone who would always see him as a substitute or a crutch was something that no longer interested him.  He would be her sire, would train her, discipline her, even fuck her when the occasion warranted, but that was as far as he would allow their relationship to progress.

"Sorry," Willow said again, tears beginning to form in her eyes as she huddled forlornly against the wall.  She pulled her knees up to her chest, sticking her head down to hide the tears that he could smell but not see.

"I know that it's tough right now pet," he said calmly, continuing to hold out his hand in a gesture of helpfulness.  "But it'll get better.  Things will get better.  It will just take some time."  Fuck, he was sounding like a bloody ponce.  Maybe it was merely the fact that she reminded him of Dru, but seeing her so miserable was bringing his protective instincts into play.  They were rusty with disuse, but he was trying his best.

Willow raised her head, looking hesitantly at the out-stretched hand.  'Sire,' that voice inside her insisted, and somehow she knew that if she let him, he would try to help.  Trust was something she had always given away freely, at least until that night.  So she tried to tell herself that this was no different; that trusting Spike would be okay.

After a brief pause that seemed like an eternity, she reached her hand out, allowing him to grasp hers firmly and pull her back onto the bed.  Buffy had disappeared sometime during the night, but Willow was reasonably sure that the kitten would be back when it got hungry again, if not sooner.

She lay there next to him, still clasping his hand tightly, and wondered what to say.  'Thank you,' seemed so trite and meaningless, but anything else would not convey the gratitude she felt.

Spike seemed to sense her indecision.  "Go back to sleep pet," he told her quietly, allowing her to hold his hand as long as she wanted.  Within minutes she was back asleep, eyes closed, body relaxed, her hand still clutching his.

~~~*~~~

She had beaten him awake again Spike realized, as he took in her empty side of the bed.  He reached out with his senses, wondering what trouble she had gotten into now.  She was upstairs, he could tell, but not likely to get herself into any trouble just yet, since the sun wasn't down.  Probably around 4 or 5pm, he figured.  Time to get up anyway.

Spike threw on a t-shirt.  He had been sleeping in his pants because he was fairly sure that the sight of anything below-the-belt would probably send the girl screaming for her friends.  Damned uncomfortable, that.  He hadn't slept with clothes on since he'd been turned.

He climbed the ladder quietly, wondering what she was up to.  What he saw surprised him.  It also nearly caused him to burst out laughing.

Willow was bent over, nose close to the ground, as she attempted to silently follow the kitten.  The kitten, seemingly oblivious to his human shadow, appeared to be stalking a mouse that had found its way into the crypt.  Mice lived in crypts?  He'd never really thought about it, but apparently they did.

He watched for a moment longer, as the kitten pounced on the mouse and quickly dispatched it.  She then turned to Willow and dropped the animal onto the girl's outstretched hand, looking quite contented and proud of itself.  Damned mouse must have been deaf and blind not to notice the two rather clumsy trackers following it, Spike thought, but a kill was a kill, and he decided not to dampen the enthusiasm of either creature.

"Brushing up on your stalking technique?" he said with a smile.

She grinned enthusiastically.  "It's fun," she admitted, heading into the kitchen and dumping what remained of the mouse into the trash.

"Well I'm glad you enjoyed it, because we need to take you out tonight and teach you how to do it for real."

Willow frowned at that, dismay clouding her eyes as the soul kicked in.  Apparently it was okay to do it for fun, but in a life-or-death situation it was another matter entirely.

"Do I really need to?" she asked somewhat reluctantly.

"Yeah, you do."

"Why?" she pouted.

His demon was raging at him at her continued defiance.  She was willful and needed to be disciplined, it screamed, and he looked ahead to the day when he would be able to punish her without impunity.  Until then he would just have to hope that sweet reason would save the day.

"Because I say so," he shot back at her.  Okay, sweet reason tempered with a bit of parental discipline.

Willow turned away from him, her body stiff and defiant.

"Okay, there's also the fact that if a vampire found you now, you'd be in no condition to defend yourself."

She moved over to the couch, sitting down slowly, mulling over his words as if trying to work a particularly tricky math problem out in her head.  "Why would I need to defend myself?  I mean, we're all vampires, right?  They wouldn't have any reason to attack me."

He crossed over to join her on the couch, taking the far end and turning his body to look at her.  "Pet, this isn't some sort of 'We are the World' thing.  We're vampires.  We prey on the powerless, those that show weakness.  Even amongst our own kind."

She still looked skeptical, her face disbelieving as she reached down to pluck at a piece of fabric that had come undone from the sofa.

"If they sense any kind of weakness," Spike continued, "Any inability to make good on a threat, they will beat you down and pass you around like an open bottle on skid row.  You'd be nothing but a cheap bit of fluff, used by any vampire who wanted a quick shag."

"But why would they even bother with me?  I'm nothing special," she insisted, her head bent and face sad, obviously believing the words she said.

He sighed, amazed at her continued naïveté.  "Red, all they care about is that you're there and you don't smell bad.  And frankly, the smell thing is more of a preference than a hard-and-fast rule."

She looked slightly disgusted at that, but he saw the thoughts spin round her head and knew that her demon would help her realize the truth of what he was saying.

"Will you teach me to do that cool thing that you do?"

Cool thing?  What the blazes was she talking about?  "What cool thing?"

Willow looked at him accusingly, as if she thought he was trying to keep some big vampire in-secret to himself.  "You know, the thing where you're just there, and nobody sees you coming," she explained.

Oh, that one.  Yeah, that was pretty cool he had to admit.  Scared the moron so badly one time that he thought he was going to have to call 911.  Except that he probably wouldn't have.  Bloody idiot would have had it coming.

"Yeah, I'll even show you that one," he agreed laconically.  She wouldn't be able to pull it off just yet; practice was what made it work.  That and tennis shoes.  Those always helped.

Willow looked down at the clothes she was wearing:  an oversized dress shirt of Spike's and a pair of his socks.  "I think I'm going to need some clothes though."

She had a point there.  He'd have to take a quick run to the store and get her something presentable.  Nothing fuzzy.  Her old wardrobe would go up in flames if he had anything to say about it.

"Okay, you hang tight here for a little bit and DON'T go outside.  I'll run to the store and pick up something for you to wear.  Won't be anything too exciting, but once you're dressed, you can find something more to your taste."

"Thanks Spike."  She smiled shyly.

The kitten jumped up onto the couch between them, making a beeline for Willow's lap.  She plucked it up and buried her face against the kitten's soft fur, hiding herself from him.

"Well, I'd better get going then," Spike said, getting up off the couch and heading for the door.  "And remember:  stay here, no matter what.  I'll be back in half an hour or so, and if I see you've stepped even a foot outside of this place, I'll beat you to within an inch of your life," he threatened.

Willow wasn't sure whether she believed him or not.  Just in case, she waited until his back was turned before she rolled her eyes at him.

~Part: 8~

Spike came back to the crypt to find that Willow had discovered his bookshelf and was deeply engrossed in one of his books.  He bent down to take a look at the cover. 'The Filth and the Fury.'  Sex Pistols, yeah, at least she was starting with the good stuff.  They'd have to pick up some more books tonight; the more he kept her entertained indoors, the less chance she'd have to get into trouble.

"Got you a couple of things.  You can choose what you like best."

Willow jumped off the couch and headed over to him, taking the proffered bags with less enthusiasm than he had expected.  Clothing had never really been her thing; apparently that hadn't changed now that she was a vampire.

She opened the bag, peering inside nervously.  There it was, the universal wardrobe component of vampires everywhere:  leather pants.  Please let there be something else. With a quick glance in Spike's direction, Willow walked over to the hole leading down to the lower level and jumped down, seeking just a bit more privacy.

Once the clothes were spread out over the bed, Willow realized that it was not as bad as it had seemed.  The obligatory black leather pants were there, but he had also picked up a pair of green velvety pants, a lightweight royal blue blouse and skirt combination, and a pair of comfortable leggings.  There were a variety of shirts as well, ranging from short-sleeved tank tops in a variety of jewel tones to a tight, dark purple turtleneck sweater.  She was surprised by his choices - nothing skanky or gross in the bunch.  Even the leather pants didn't look *that* bad.  Maybe she'd give them a try later.

The one rather disturbing omission was that of undergarments of any kind.  She knew that guys often 'went commando,' but the thought of going out in public without underwear really gave her a major ick.  As soon as she had a chance, she would definitely pick up a dozen pairs, along with a toothbrush.  Blood breath was also on her ick list, and she was relatively sure that her friends would find it disturbing as well.

Her friends.  The two words seemed so simple, and yet her feelings for them were anything *but* simple.  She remembered them; remembered loving them.  But it was like the ghost of a memory when she thought of the times they had shared.  Those things had happened to someone that was not her.  Any relationship she had with them in the future would have to be started from scratch.

Willow heard the pacing upstairs and knew that Spike was anxious to go out.  She grabbed the navy blue leggings and a matching colored tank top and quickly shrugged out of the shirt she had been wearing.  A pair of plain black socks and some dark-colored tennis shoes completed her ensemble.

Not being able to see herself in a mirror was going to be more of a bother than she'd thought.  Willow had never been a vain person, but sometimes it was nice to be able to look at yourself, just to check and see if you had parsley in your teeth or a tag hanging from your new clothes.  From now on she would just have to depend upon Spike for that.  For some reason that idea was less than thrilling.

She smoothed the clothing to her body, hoping that she looked okay, and then climbed the ladder to the upper level.  Spike was waiting for her, his anxious pacing continuing as he took in her appearance.  "Ready?" he threw over his shoulder as he headed for the door.

"Guess I'd better be," she muttered, mostly to herself, as she followed him out into the night.

~~~*~~~

Willow's senses were on overload as she walked through the cool night, her legs moving fast to keep up with the pace of the vampire beside her.  Every little sound, every little movement, caught her attention much more easily than it had in the past.  She felt more alert and, oddly, more alive than she ever had before.

They were in stealth mode, moving as quickly but also as quietly as possible through one of Sunnydale's numerous cemeteries.  A young couple walked obliviously in front of them, whispering words of love and commitment to each other as they meandered through the run-down graveyard.

The goal to this exercise was to follow them as closely as possible without being detected.  While it sounded easy in theory, the reality had ended up being a lot more difficult than she had expected.  They were in a wide-open area broken only by the occasional tombstone or mausoleum, and Willow soon learned that gravel was NOISY.  Even with the quietest shoes and the smallest of movements, she could still hear the sounds her careless steps made.  Spike's occasional grimaces made it quite clear that he heard them too.  The couple before them must have been so deeply in love, or something like it, that they just weren't paying attention.  That was the only reason she could come up with that would explain their continuing failure to notice her.

Three couples and a jogger later, Willow had become quite disenchanted with the whole 'creature of the night' thing.  She was tired, bored, and her new shoes were not nearly as comfortable as they had seemed when she put them on hours ago.  She wanted nothing more than to be at home, in a nice warm bubble bath, listening to one of her new CDs on the boom box her parents had gotten her for her birthday.

Spike stopped suddenly, turning to look at her with a questioning gaze.  "Ready to call it a night, are you?"  His tone was mocking, as if daring her to say yes.

"Isn't this a good enough start?  I mean, I can't expect to learn it all in one night, can I?"

He shrugged, acknowledging that she was pretty much right.  Besides, there was always tomorrow.  "We need to stop by a couple of places before we head back though."

"Oh!  Can we stop at a store and get some cat food?  Buffy's going to be hungry and all we have to eat is, well, blood.  I don't think a cat can live on blood."  She stopped for a moment, lost on a tangent.  "Can pets be turned into vampires?  Not that I would want to, because that's wrong on so very many levels.  But I'm just wondering…"

His expression was nothing short of hilarious, and Willow had to work hard to stifle the giggle that threatened to slip out.

"A vampire kitten?  Are you fuckin' insane?"

"Hey, no need to be rude!  I was just asking."  She looked down at her feet, feeling kind of silly.  "Wasn't going to do it or anything."

"Fine, whatever," he said, pulling her along as he saw the bright lights of a 7-11 up ahead.  Civilization at last, he thought as he entered the store, quickly grabbing a basket and filling it up.

As they made their way down the aisles, Willow picked up the toothbrush and toothpaste she had longed for earlier, along with some cat food for Buffy.  Spike grabbed a bottle of whiskey, and after an appraising look at the redhead, added a bottle of rum to the ever-growing pile.  If she didn't want it, he was sure she would drive him to drink it eventually.

They reached the check stand and Spike dug into his wallet for some cash.  He would have to talk to the Watcher soon; between his clothes shopping spree earlier and now this, he was beginning to run low on funds.  And this was the *last* penny he was spending on cat food.  Damn thing could just eat what it caught as far as he was concerned.

He grabbed the bags, passing one to Willow, and headed back into the night, his female shadow trailing quietly a few paces behind him, apparently lost in thought.  They continued to walk through town in blessed silence until they reached a rather sad-looking building with a simple red neon sign over the door that read 'Willy's.'

Spike turned to grab Willow's arm, bringing her out of whatever thoughts had kept her occupied during their walk.  "You're staying out here," he stated firmly, waiting for the inevitable argument.

She looked like she wanted to disagree, but took in his stern gaze and instead reached down into the plastic bag she held and brought out a paperback book.  "Fine," she muttered, dismissing him from her thoughts and her sight.

'Bloody child,' he thought angrily, suspecting that the old curse of, 'I hope you have children just like you,' had probably come back to bite him in the ass.  Angelus would laugh his bloody head off if he could see this.

Spike pulled the door open and walked into the bar, pulling up a stool and sitting down.  He waited semi-patiently while Willy finished talking to a blue-skinned Rinni demon and then headed over to stand nervously before Spike.

"What can I get you?" he asked deferentially.

"Blood, human, and lots of it," the vampire answered.  Willy looked like he might have wanted to ask a question, so Spike put on his 'bored but still lethal' look and stared off into space.  That was enough to convince Willy that he didn't want to waste any time with silly questions, the answers to which probably weren't that interesting anyway.

The weaselly human headed into the back and reappeared after what seemed like at least ten minutes, but was probably closer to two or three.  His hands held a paper sack filled about half-full with little Red Cross packets of blood.  Spike eyed it contemplatively; it should keep them fed for a week or so.  After that, the Watcher would have to take care of things.

He took the last of his cash out of his wallet and threw it down on the counter, his mind already on other things.  "Later," he called to Willy as he headed for the door.

On the way back to the door he caught a flash of red hair out of the corner of his eye, and he turned his head curiously to see whom it belonged to.  Anger clouded his eyes as he saw that it was his childe, seated across the table from a Morja demon.  Damn her, was she *trying* to get herself killed?

Moving swiftly, Spike grabbed the redhead's arm and yanked her to her feet.  She stared up at him, surprise and annoyance filling her bottle-green eyes.  "What-" was as far as she got before he jerked her around to face him.  His hands grasped her elbows in a punishing grip, forcing to look up into his furious face.

"Bloody stupid bint, don't you know anything?" he raged.  "This is a Morja demon.  They hate vampires.  Rather kill you than look at you.  I'd bet you money, if you had any, that the drink he was trying to give you was a holy water cocktail."

Willow looked down at the rather innocuous-looking demon who was trying to sneak away from the table.  A sly smile on the creature's face, quickly hidden, convinced her that Spike had told her the truth.  "But that's just- well, not very nice!" she yelled, drawing the attention of some of the other patrons who wanted to know what the commotion was about.  In the ensuing silence the demon slipped away from their table and moved quickly to the door.

"Well?  Why aren't we going after him?" Willow asked plaintively.

"And do what, pray tell?  Offer him a drink?" Spike sneered back at her.  He watched the retort form on her lips and something inside him snapped.  His demon raged at him, insisting that she pay for her disobedience and insolence, and for once Spike was going to do what felt right, regardless of the consequences.

He twisted Willow's arm until a grimace of pain appeared on her face, then motioned for her to pick up the plastic bags from their stop at the 7-11.  Grabbing the bag of blood from where he had left it on the floor, he headed out the door and into the night, still dragging the redhead behind him.

Stupid, stupid chit, practically getting herself killed, and who would have been blamed?  They certainly wouldn't have blamed her or the Morja demon.  Her bloody stupid friends would have blamed HIM, he thought, his anger continuing to simmer.

He dragged her back to the crypt, having to stop several times when she tried to run away from him.  She'd make it a couple of yards each time before he would catch up with her and pull her back to their things, listening to her curse him all the way.

She was fast; he certainly had to give her that.  Someday, once she had more of a chance to get used to all that her new body could do, she might even be faster than he was.  But he was stronger than she was, and that meant everything.

Finally they reached the crypt.  He opened the door, flinging her inside.  Willow fell hard, the slight scent of fresh blood telling him that she had skinned a knee.  As she got to her feet he saw her stare hungrily at the door, so he gave it a shove and closed it completely, the sound echoing in the silent room.  No way would she be able to open that by herself, he knew.  Hell, when it was really and truly closed, even *he* had to work to open it.

"I'm going to bed," she muttered, trying her best to put some distance between them.

"Oh no you're not," he insisted angrily.

"Try and stop me," Willow taunted, instantly regretting her choice of words.  His eyes blazed gold and he was suddenly in front of her, blocking her path.  She tried to edge around him, but before she could move he had picked her up, slinging her over his shoulder and keeping her in an undignified up-ended position until he reached the couch.

He sat down, turning her facedown over his lap as if he intended to spank her.  Well if he thought she would just stand there and let him do that, then he was sadly mistaken.  Using every inch of her new strength, she fought to gain an upright position, scratching and hitting and even, on occasion, biting him as she tried to gain her freedom.

"Oh yeah, pet.  Keep twisting around like that, it's getting me nice and hot," he growled as he easily held her in place.  Evidence of his arousal was hitting Willow in the abdomen, and she stilled herself instantly.

Willow had read a lot about vampires in the Watchers Diaries.  She knew that they had a strong link between pain and pleasure--both giving pain and receiving it.  That was about as far as her thoughts got before she felt the crack of the first blow, Spike's hand hitting her sharply across her still-clothed ass.  She jerked as the pain registered in her brain, the place where his hand had made contact stinging and hot.  Refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response, she remained stoic as a second blow hit her just to the side of the first one.

Blow after blow reigned down on her ass, the contact making her skin first warm and then scorching.  Her entire ass was on fire, and despite her decision not to make a sound, she was soon crying and shouting at him.

"I hate you, I hate you, I hate you," she yelled, turning her head to glare up at his impassive face.  Soon Spike was answering back with a response of his own.

"Stupid bloody girl, no self-control at all.  I've seen *minions* with better self-preservation skills.  Coulda got yourself killed, you know that?  I should have let you, damn it."

He continued spanking her, and she continued crying, until finally they both ran out of steam, their anger worn down to manageable levels.  Finally he stopped, listening to the sound of her sniffling as he considered his ridiculous predicament.

With any other fledgling he would have beaten her until she was unable to move and then fucked her mercilessly.  But he knew that she was damaged, both physically and emotionally, and for some reason he just couldn't bring himself to do that to her.  And then there was the fact that she had friends in high places; friends that would delight in staking him if he harmed a hair on her oh-so-obnoxious head.  So instead of doing what he wanted to do, he had to settle for this, and it was a pale imitation at best.

"You going to do what I tell you to do next time?" he asked seriously as he released her body, allowing her to come slowly, painfully to her feet.

Willow glared down at him, fighting the instinct to tell him to go to hell.  Her ass was ablaze with pain and she was humiliated, yet still she felt an undeniable urge to rebel against him.  She didn't want another confrontation though, so she nodded slightly before turning away from him and going down to the lower level.

~~~*~~~

Spike watched her go with a curious sense of bemusement.  She was incredibly headstrong and immature, but she had good instincts.  It was obvious to him that she was having trouble controlling her demon.  That was where a lot of her willfulness and lack of self-control was coming from.  They would have to talk about it later, after they both had a chance to calm down from their confrontation.

Her demon could be useful if she could learn how to control it properly.  But if she allowed it to control her instead, then things were going to get even more difficult.  Especially when you factored the soul into the equation.

~Part: 9~

Spike sat on the couch, sipping his whiskey as he debated his options:  give the watcher a call, or go join his childe in bed.  She was still pretty angry with him, but that didn't mean anything to Spike.  That was her problem.  As for the other option, he did need more money.  An extra mouth to feed certainly cost more, plus there was the added expense of keeping her occupied, which kept him from wanting to stake her.

Yeah, a call to the British git was in the cards.  It was early—he could barely feel the beginnings of sunrise tickling his senses.  He remembered from his days shackled in the Watcher's loo that the man was one of those most annoying of human beings, a morning person.  Even if he wasn't awake yet, it would be a type of payback for, well, a lot of things.  Not quite as good a payback as bathing in his blood, but still, it would do.

He took the cell phone from his pocket, staring at it idly as he took another swig from his whiskey and let the amber liquid burn its way down his throat.  Finding the number in his phone's memory, he pushed the button that would connect him to Giles.

"Hello?"

"Watcher, we need some money."

"Spike.  Nice talking to you too," Giles muttered tersely.  "How much do you need?  And how soon?"

Aaah, now this was what he wanted to hear.  The man was ready to give him just about anything in order to keep the redhead in blood and comfort.  He could work with this.

"At least a hundred dollars.  That should last for a week or so.  We can talk about some sort of regular payment system soon.  Maybe a monthly stipend to keep us comfortable.  Blood doesn't come cheap, ya know?  Well, it would if I had my chip out, but I suppose your generosity probably won't be reaching that far, now will it?"

Spike listened to the silence on the other end of the line, imagining the Watcher working hard to control his temper and the pulsing vein that often showed in his temple when he was under strain.  Man like that could have a heart attack fairly easily, he imagined.  Up at all hours fighting demons and then having to play father confessor to his blond bitch of a Slayer.  Oh well, not his problem.

"Yes, I rather think that is beyond the realm of the possible at this moment," the man finally answered grimly.  "I have, however, been able to make some progress on the housing front."

"Oh yeah?  So tell me," Spike said, bringing his feet up onto the couch and laying out comfortably, "What have you got?"  A small house or an apartment would be a large step up from this place, and just the thought of a nice, scalding hot shower put Spike in a better mood.

"Well, it's not the Ritz-Carlton, but I suspect it will work out well.  It's a small duplex not far from campus.  I'm finalizing the paperwork later today."  Giles had not specified how he was paying for it or whether he was buying or renting, but those types of details seemed unimportant to Spike, who was more of a 'live in the present' type of guy.  For someone who was going to live forever, he readily admitted that he was not much of a long-range thinker.

"It's extremely well-landscaped, with your particular, um, condition in mind.  Lots of shade and trees, and very few windows.  There are two bathrooms and two bedrooms…"

He trailed off, and Spike imagined that he was probably trying to delicately ask about the sleeping arrangements.  The man was not naive or stupid; he knew that there was a particular sexual component to the sire/childe relationship.  He wondered how the man lived with himself, knowing that the redhead would eventually be sleeping with him.  Probably all awash in guilt.

"Haven't shagged her, if that's what you're asking," Spike grunted moodily.

"Oh, uh, very well, then," and after an awkward pause, "Thank you."

The vampire almost snorted with laughter.  Giles actually thought that he was keeping his hands off her as some sort of favor or something?  That was rich.  The only thing his hands wanted to do with her was wring her bloody neck.  But he kept silent; no point in giving away any information or answering questions if he didn't have to.

"How is she doing?"

Now that was a loaded question.  How truthful did he really want to be with this one?  "She's fine.  Learning about stuff.  She's a little headstrong at the moment, probably because of the demon."

"What exactly does that mean?" The cool precise tones held a hint of worry.

"Means she's a bloody pain in my ass," Spike conceded.  Time to change the subject he thought.  "So how soon can we move in?"

Giles allowed himself to be distracted by the question, well aware that that was Spike's main reason for asking it.  "I will have the keys this morning.  Buffy and Xander have been looking for things for your place.  Furniture, thick drapes, et cetera.  Give us the day to get things settled, and I suppose you could move in tonight."

Interior decorating courtesy of the Slayer?  Spike wasn't sure whether he should be amused or horrified.  Probably horrified, he conceded, considering the way she dressed.  But the thought of a fully decorated and appointed residence was enough to take most of the sting out of it.

"Thanks," he said tersely, sounding as if that was a word he didn't say very often.  "I'll let her know that a move is in her future."

He listened as Giles cleared his throat uneasily.  Ah, here was the fly in the ointment.  He wondered what it would be.  Maybe a nice little termite infestation?  Or they were in the flight path of the airport?  Would one of them be moving in too?  He waited uneasily for the other shoe to drop.

"We thought that maybe a small get-together - to re-introduce Buffy and Xander to Willow.  Tonight, perhaps, on the way to your new home?"

Spike thought about the idea for a moment.  As far as flies in the ointment went, it wasn't too odious.  Maybe he could slip out early on, once things looked like they were going well.  As long as he didn't have to be there, he really had no problem with it.  He *did* want to be there when Buffy realized that the mangy gray furball shared a name with her.  The look on her face ought to be priceless, and well worth the displeasure of her company.

"Fine," he said finally.  "I might leave early, let you lot get re-acquainted and such.  I've been itchin' for a good poker game for a couple of nights." And with that one hundred dollars tucked in his pocket, he should be able to make quite a tidy profit.

"Very well.  I'll call you with the address tomorrow afternoon then, and we can meet that evening.  Does that sound acceptable?"

"Sounds good.  Talk to you later," he finished, flicking the phone closed.  He suspected that the git had wanted to say something more, but Spike was done, and that was what really mattered.

He eased back, dropping the phone onto the end table behind his head.  Things were decidedly odd right now, but he had a feeling that this whole scenario was going to work out in his favor.  He just needed to teach the girl to get her demon under control, show her friends that he was a good little babysitter, and then he was home free.  It might not be perfect, but it sure beat the hand-to-mouth existence he had been living lately.  And someday this bloody chip would stop working, and then things would change.

A cigarette right about now would hit the spot, he decided as he dragged a pack and lighter from his pants pocket.  His fingers lit the stick and he laid back and contemplated the childe downstairs.  She was pretty enough, he supposed.  If he got bored enough he'd do her.  Not anytime soon, probably, but someday.  She wouldn't be his Dru, but maybe she wouldn't be too bad.  There was one thing that Harmony had done with her tongue...

He watched the smoke make its way upward, his cock hardening as he remembered the feel of the blonde cheerleader's lips on him.  Damn he needed a shag.  Usually the thought of Harmony was enough to wilt him, but tonight it just seemed to make matters worse.  Punishing the redhead had reminded him of other nights with other women, and how spanking could be such an enjoyable precursor to a good shag.  His body had reacted the way it always did to such foreplay, but when he didn't follow through his demon had snarled at him in disgust, calling him a ponce and a fool, and worse.

She belonged to him.  Sure, maybe things hadn't happened in the traditional way, but some rules still held.  He had a right to do what he wanted to her, when he wanted to, regardless of her feelings on the matter.  The fact that this didn't seem to hold true right now was infuriating to both the demon and the man, and he didn't know how to make it right.

Growling in disgusted at the direction his thoughts were taking him, he got up and stubbed the glowing tip of the cigarette into the wooden top of the end table.  New furniture would be nice, he conceded.  Even used stuff would be better than this crap.  It was pretty much impossible to get anyone to deliver to a crypt, so he had had to pull together what little he had from furniture abandoned here and there outdoors, mostly stuff waiting for the trash collector to pick it up.

He stood up and stretched, his body expanding and moving gracefully.  Might as well head to bed, he decided.  Get himself a good day's sleep.  Something told him that he was going to need it tomorrow.

~Part: 10~

~Part: 10~

Willow lay on the bed and reflected on her life, or, actually, her unlife.  She could hear Spike talking to Giles, explaining how things were and what was going on.

When Spike referred to her as a 'bloody pain in his ass' she flinched slightly, surprised at the vehemence in his voice.  She realized, sort of, that she had been fighting him for control, but it seemed almost a subconscious reaction.  There was no rhyme or reason to it; if he said 'go right' she instinctively headed left.  Why did she do it?  Was it a normal part of the sire/childe relationship?  Perhaps it was the soul making itself known?  Or was it some perverse way for her to declare her independence?

She had never been a particularly strong-willed person, Willow acknowledged.  Sure, there was her 'resolve face,' but it was something she used only on the rarest of occasions.  Someone like Buffy had no need of a resolve face; her thoughts and decisions were always taken seriously.  Nobody ever tried to marginalize her or treat her as if her opinions didn't matter.

Earlier, at Willy's, Spike had made her feel like a child; someone so weak and helpless that they could never be considered an adult.  When the demon had come up to her, asking why such a pretty thing was all alone, she had jumped at the kind words and had never considered the source.  That impetuous action had almost gotten her killed.  It would have, if Spike hadn't caught her just in time.

So what could she do now?  Apologize?  Throw herself on his mercy like a child asking for parental approval?  Something inside of her screamed NO.  She just couldn't give up what little control she had; couldn't give him such power over her.  He would only use her and then destroy her.

But she needed him.  Without him she was fair game to any vampire or demon that wanted a piece of her.  But with Spike's help she could be strong.

She would just have to agree to play the game by his rules.  For now.

~~~*~~~

Anya lay quietly in the bed that she shared with Xander, watching the young man sleep.  His dreams were troubled; he would be still for a while, and then suddenly his body would jerk under the covers, and a softly moaned 'no,' would break the silence.

She suspected that he was dreaming of Willow.  The thought didn't bother her like it used to.  Early on, when she didn't feel quite as secure about her place in Xander's life, she would occasionally be a little jealous of his close friendship with Willow and the history that they shared.  Sometimes she had felt like she would scream if she had to hear that 'yellow crayon' story one more time.

Time, along with lots of sex, had made her a bit more comfortable.  And now that Willow was a vampire she could feel even more secure about her place in Xander's world.  As much as he had cared for his childhood friend, the knowledge that she was a vampire would forever put her off limits, as far as Xander was concerned.

And even if he *did* still have an interest in her, which he didn't, there was still Spike.  Willow's sire.  He didn't seem like the type of demon who would share.

Anya had been around; she knew about the bond between sire and childe, both the emotional and the sexual components.  She wondered if they had slept together yet.  And if they had, would Willow give her the details?

The redhead had always been chintzy about details in the past, whether due to shyness or meanness Anya had never been sure.  She suspected it was part of that human silliness about 'privacy' and that it fell into that category Xander had of 'things we don't talk about, Anya.'

The others seemed to want to tiptoe around the fact that Giles had practically sold Willow into slavery when he had asked Spike to turn her.  Sure, she still had her free will, for the most part, but from now on there would always be that bond; that pull towards Spike, no matter what.

And then there was the passage of time to consider:  as the humans got older, Willow would retain her eternal youth, always looking the part of the perennial teenager.  A part of her was slightly jealous of that.  Back in her days as a vengeance demon she had rarely thought about her immortality; she had merely accepted it as the way it was.  But someday soon she would start to feel the cold hand of time on her face, adding wrinkles and blemishes to her weak, human skin.

The thought was appalling.

Her mind drifted and she began to think about the housewarming party that Xander and Buffy wanted to have for Willow.   The two of them had been scouring the thrift shops and garage sales looking for things that would make their home look a little homier, and a little less like a vampire lair.

During her one hurried visit to the place Anya had been duly impressed.  Very few windows, dark curtains, small kitchen with a microwave.  Seemed like the ideal home for the vampire with a soul.  The addition of cable TV and high-speed internet access made it even more desirable for the pair.

The man next to her stirred fitfully, beginning to wake up at long last.  Anya seemed to need less sleep than Xander did, a fact that amused him and frustrated her.  She wanted to be out and about, doing things, but it just didn't seem as much fun without Xander around.

"Morning," he yawned, stretching his body in an attempt to drive away the last lingering bits of sleep.

"Good morning," she chirped back, eager to get him up.  Today was the day they were supposed to move everything in to Willow's new home, and Anya was eager to get it all finished.  She had to admit to herself, even if she wouldn't admit it to anyone else, she was curious to see what this new Willow was like.

~~~*~~~

They met up with Buffy and Giles in front of a rather upscale duplex not too far from campus.  The grounds were heavily shaded, and the windows that looked out onto the front yard were completely in the shadow of several huge redwood trees.

The building itself was painted a tasteful dark brown.  Boring, but quite neutral.  It blended into the surroundings quite nicely.

When Giles used his key to let them in, they wandered inside and immediately went to work on deciding which pieces of furniture would go where.  Yesterday Buffy and Xander had loaded their purchases into Joyce's SUV.  Buffy had driven it over in the morning, picking Giles up along the way.  And although Giles had complained bitterly the entire way, Buffy had managed to get them to the house on time, and without incident.

They quickly unloaded the SUV, carefully positioning each piece of furniture in just the right way.  Spike had his own TV, so they had not bothered to buy a new one, but they had managed to procure a TV stand, a VCR, and a matching cream-colored sofa and loveseat.  A pair of forest green high-backed chairs and a couple of small end tables completed the room.

"Not too bad, considering we threw it all together in about a day and a half," Buffy proclaimed, watching with a smile as Xander placed a small framed picture of them all in the center of one of the tables.  The photo had been taken about three months ago, during an impromptu trip to the beach.  They all wore their bathing suits, except Giles who had bowed to the temperatures only enough to wear a pair of long shorts.  It had been a wonderful day, and every so often Xander would look at that picture and smile fondly.  He had kept the photo in his room, stuck in the corner of his bedroom mirror, but had decided that Willow might want to keep it for now, as a memento of happier days.

It never occurred to him that it would also be a constant reminder of the one thing that she would never feel again:  the sun.

They worked methodically, making their way from room to room with a minimum of conversation.  In the kitchen they piled up mismatched plates, flatware and glasses, even though they knew that the two who would live there had no use for the first two items.  Still, it might be nice to have them on hand in case anyone decided to order pizza.  Or whatever.  They knew that Spike still ate on occasion, so Willow probably would too.

The bedrooms presented a bit of a quandary.  Xander and Buffy insisted on making one room quite Willow-friendly:  they filled a closet with things taken from her own room, and had 'borrowed' as much of the furniture there as they could get their hands on.  Willow's parents were out of town as usual, so they were able to get just about everything except for the bed and the dresser into Xander's truck.  They had been able to find a clean, almost-new mattress, box spring, frame and headboard for a reasonably cheap price, so those were set up as well.

The other bedroom was supposed to be for Spike, and that was left almost completely empty.  There had been a decided lack of enthusiasm when it came time to pick out something for the vampire, so the room was mostly bare, except for a mattress and box spring that sat awkwardly in the middle of the floor.

Neither Giles nor Anya had the heart to tell Buffy and Xander that the two vampires were undoubtedly sleeping together already, even if they hadn't actually had sex.  They decided to leave the rooms the way that Buffy and Xander had prepared them, knowing that Spike and Willow would be able to fix things to their liking once they were alone.

By noon the four of them were exhausted but happy.  The house looked almost homey, and hopefully Willow would feel comfortable here as she adjusted to the changes in her life.  Spike could rot in hell, as far as Buffy and Xander were concerned, but since he was along for the ride, they had agreed to play nice tonight when everyone got together.

"I'd say we have done rather a full day's work already," Giles announced, as he stood outside and locked the door to the house.  "Shall we go our separate ways for a few hours, and then meet back at my place around six-thirty?  I am sure that we could all use a shower." 'And perhaps a short nap,' he finished to himself.

Xander practically had to carry Anya to the car, his girlfriend was *that* tired.  Buffy, on the other hand, seemed happier than she had in a couple of days.  Being able to actually do something to help seemed to have given her a chance to think of something besides revenge, and Giles was happy to see a small smile cross her lips as she looked back at the house with satisfaction.

"She'll like it, won't she?" she asked uncertainly, as she and Giles got into the SUV.  "I mean, I know it's not like her old place, but then again she probably won't be like our old Willow, so it's okay, right?"

"Buffy, you all did a wonderful job.  I am sure that Willow will be very excited to see her new place."  Spike, on the other hand . . . his thoughts about the blond vampire were better left unsaid.  The Watcher only hoped that Spike wouldn't be in too disagreeable of a mood tonight.

Quite a bit depended on this first re-introduction, he realized.  So much had happened in such a short time, and although most of it had happened to Willow, the after affects would be felt by those who loved her for a long time afterwards.  If things did not go well tonight between Buffy, Xander and Willow, he feared that the redhead would become more and more isolated from all humans.  He didn't even want to think of the possible consequences of that happening.

Instead, he hoped for all of their sakes, that things went smoothly tonight.

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