Learning Curve

Author:  Kat, a.k.a. KallieRose

Parts: 11 - 20

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~Part: 11~

Angel had been feeling something for a couple of days.  It was more than a 'something,' really.  When he concentrated on it, this little speck in the corner of his mind, he felt confusion and anger and uncertainty.

He had felt something like this before.  As hard as he tried to deny it, he suspected that he knew exactly what it was.  One of his childer had made a childe.

But which one?  Drusilla never made childer; she was way too self-absorbed, not to mention too insane, to undertake such an effort.  But the last he had heard, Spike had a chip in his head that was supposed to keep him from harming human beings.  So that seemed to leave him out of the running too.

Yet the niggling feelings continued, and over the course of a day they even got stronger.  He just didn't get it.

Should he call Sunnydale?  If Spike's implant had malfunctioned, shouldn't someone there be told about it?  There was no doubt in Angel's mind that if Spike were able to kill again, his first target would be Buffy.  The hatred he felt for the Slayer went beyond just the usual hated a vampire felt for a slayer.  With Spike it was deeply personal.

Angel sat at his desk, elbows on the smooth wooden surface.  Buffy ought to know, he decided.  But the years and events that had torn them apart made him feel uneasy about calling his former love, so when he opened his old address book, his fingers went to the page for 'G', and his fingers punched into the cell phone the number of one Rupert Giles.

~~~*~~~

Giles had just finished his shower and was toweling the remaining water from his body when he heard the phone ringing.  "Of course," he muttered, frustrated, "Can't a fellow have a decent shower without some bloody solicitor calling up to sell him an acre of swamp land?"

Securing the towel around his waist, he lunged for the phone, lifting the receiver moments before his machine would have picked up the call.  "Yes?" he mumbled testily.

"Giles?"

Surprisingly, it actually took him a moment to place the quiet voice.  He and Angel had had very little contact in the time since the vampire had moved to Los Angeles, and that was exactly the way he preferred it.  On the other hand, if Angel had taken the initiative to call him, then Giles knew that something fairly serious must be happening.

"Yes, Angel?  It is you, isn't it?"

"Yes, it's me," he answered.  Hearing the Watcher's voice had brought back memories of his time in Sunnydale, and for a moment he fought those memories as if they were a tide that threatened to pull him under.  Emotions that had lain dormant resurfaced with a vengeance, and it took him a moment to regain his composure.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but there might be a situation that you should be aware of."

'You think *you* have a situation,' Giles thought wryly.  But Angel had gone to the trouble of giving him a call, so he would at least listen to what the vampire had to say.

"What kind of situation is that?" he inquired politely.

"Well, I'm not sure.  I-" his voice faded for a moment, and Giles wondered if perhaps the connection had gone bad.

"Angel?  Are you still there?" he asked anxiously.

A sigh, and then, "Yes, I'm sorry.  It's just-I'm not sure if this is really a situation or not.  I-well, I think one of my childer has sired a child.  And since Spike has that implant, and Drusilla is-well, insane, I'm rather at a loss as to what might be causing this feeling.â€?

"Feeling?" Giles asked sharply.  "You can feel her?"

Angel either didn't notice Giles' use of the female pronoun, or perhaps he misunderstood it.  "Yes, I feel them both.  It's a part of the childe-sire bond.  I'm sure you've read all about that in your journals."

"Yes, quite," Giles agreed.  He had read about that on many occasions, but had never thought to consider what it would mean when it came to Willow.  It was rather fascinating, actually.  He would have to note it down in the journal, stressing the fact that it was apparently something that was multi-generational.

"Well lately I've been having this feeling, and whenever I concentrate on it, I feel... confusion, sorrow, anger, and other feelings I can't exactly describe.  If there's a chance that Spike might have sired someone, if the implant has malfunctioned, then I thought you deserved any advance warning I could give you."

Giles made his way slowly across the room, sitting down heavily on the couch and making himself comfortable.  Or at least as comfortable as he could be, clad only in a towel.

"Angel, there's something I need to tell you, I suppose.  I should apologize.  I had no idea that you would be aware of this, that the-well, the sire-childe bond would be so strong."

"What is it, Giles?  Has Spike done something?"

"Yes he has, actually.  It's Willow-" he started, cut off in mid-sentence by the suddenly irate vampire.

"He attacked Willow?  That-damn it-he is dead!  I will kill him myself.  And this time he'll STAY dead."

"But you don't understand-" Giles began, before realizing he was speaking into a dead phone.  Angel had hung up on him!

Perhaps he had just lost the connection.  That must be it, he thought, as he waited for the phone to ring again.  Surely Angel would call him back and allow him to explain the circumstances of Willow's turning.  But the silence continued, and after a couple of minutes Giles realized that he was not going to receive a call back.

Visions of Angel, driving hell bent for leather from L.A. to Sunnydale, a stake with Spike's name on it clutched firmly in his hand, spurred Giles to action.  Using a trick that Buffy had taught him, he dialed *69 on his phone, and listened silently as the phone rang two, three, four times.  Eventually Angel's voicemail picked up, and Giles left a message for the vampire to call him immediately.

He suspected, however, that Angel and his phone were in two different places.  One of them was probably sitting neatly in a phone charger in Angel's office, while the other was headed to Sunnydale.  With no other choice, Giles dialed information for Los Angeles and before long he was connected to the offices of Angel Investigations.

"Cordelia?" he asked of the perky voice that answered.

"Yeah.  Um, Giles?  Is that you?"

"Yes, it is.  I need to talk to Angel.  It's rather urgent, I'm afraid."

"You're out of luck on that one," she said cheerfully.  "He just ran out of his office like he was on fire, yelled that he had to go to Sunnydale, and ran down to the garage.  That was a couple of minutes ago.  I bet by now he's halfway there, the way he drives when he's in a hurry.  He's a lunatic on the road, I'll tell you.  It's not safe to be in a car with him-"

"Cordelia!" Giles yelled, gratified when her mindless babbling stopped.  "How can Angel be outside and on the road when it's still fairly light out?"

"Oh, he's got those special tinted windows.  There's a guy here who does them for cheap.  Just don't mention his ex-girlfriend; he's still a little bitter about the break-up.  Angel learned that the hard way."

"Cordelia," Giles growled.

"Well, as I was saying," she drawled, "We've got this underground garage, so he can get into the car there, and then he's got the windows for when he's on the road.  As long as he doesn't do something stupid like open the windows or get out of the car for any reason, he's okay.  And I'm sure that by the time he gets to Sunnydale it'll be pretty dark, so he'll be fine on that end."

'When he gets to Sunnydale,' Giles repeated the words to himself uneasily.  Would he come straight to see the Watcher, or would he be able to find Spike on his own, using the bond they shared?

"What the heck is going on over there anyway?" Cordelia asked, finally clueing in that there was something out-of-the-ordinary going on.

"It's a very long story," Giles replied, determined not to go into it over the phone with Cordelia.  "Just please have Angel call me if you hear from him.  It's quite vital; perhaps even a matter of life and death."

"Drama much?" Cordelia snapped, annoyed that he would not take the time to appease her curiosity.  "Fine then, I'll tell him," she said, hanging up before Giles could say anything further.

Giles ran a weary hand through his hair.  He really did not want to make this next call, but he could see no way around it, so he dialed the number for Spike's cell phone, wondering not for the first time why he couldn't have just stayed in England.  Things in America were always so... complicated.

"Yeah?"  Apparently the vampire had been asleep, and Giles took a bit of satisfaction in knowing that this time he had woken Spike up, instead of the other way around.

"Spike? There's been a bit of a complication," he said slowly, unsure how to break the news gently.

"What's that?"

"Well, you see, Angel called.  Seems he could sense that you made a childe.  Before I could tell him the circumstances, he hung up the phone and at this very moment he's heading in our direction."

"Well that's just bloody marvelous," Spike snarled, suddenly sounding completely awake.  "Wondered how long it would take the poof to figure it out.  Sounds like it didn't take long at all.  So, what, he thinks I turned her just because, and doesn't know she has the soul?"

Giles took a moment to marvel at Spike's ability to sum up the situation so quickly, and then replied.  "Yes, that about covers it.  He is heading to Sunnydale as we speak."

"Figures.  Fine, I'll take care of him if he shows up here.  If you see him first, for fuck's sake, tell him about the soul and all that other rot.  A homicidal sire is absolutely the last thing I need right now."

"Yes, of course," Giles confirmed.  "I just wanted you to be prepared, in case you run into him before I do.  I'm not sure exactly how the bond works, and if he can sense your location when he's that close to you."

"Yeah, he can probably figure it out, if he stops and concentrates.  Angelus always could.  Not sure if the soul interferes or not.  I'll have to talk to Willow about it and see if she can feel it."

"Very well, then.  Oh, and on another note, if you could come by my place in a couple of hours; say six-thirty?  We could go over to your new place and have that little housewarming party.  The children are rather eager to see Willow.  Do you-how do you think she'll react?" he asked uneasily.

"She'll be on her best behavior," Spike growled.  'Even if I have to beat her ass to get her to play nice,' he added to himself.

"Good, I'm glad to hear that.  I have to admit that I'm a bit nervous; so much is riding on this first meeting."

"Yeah, well, she'll be there, and she won't threaten to eat anybody.  Beyond that, I really can't promise much."

"I understand."

"Later," the vampire said, and then hung up.

'Good heavens, doesn't anybody say good-bye anymore?' Giles wondered as he hung up his phone.

~Part: 12~

"You heard most of that?" Spike asked the woman lying next to him.

She opened her eyes slowly, pushing her hands down on the bed to bring herself into a sitting position, her back flush against the headboard.  "Not really," she admitted.  Her thoughts had been elsewhere.  She had been pondering her existence then, compared to her existence now, and all that had happened in the space between.  When Spike had received his phone call, she had pretty much tuned the conversation out.  Certainly she had not expected it to pertain to her in any way.

Apparently it had.

She looked down at him, taking in the slight hint of uncertainty around his eyes.  Spike not looking cocky and sure of himself?  This might be something serious.

"What happened?   Who was it?"

"The Watcher.  Seems my bloody sire figured it out, about you, and now he's driving like a madman to dispense his particular brand of justice."  Spike's lips curled into something halfway between a frown and a sneer.  Willow concentrated on his lips, fascinated with their expressiveness.

"But-how did he know?  About me, I mean?  And why is it such a big, bad thing?  And why does he even care?"  The questions tumbled ceaselessly from her lips.  Spike shook his head as if shaking off vertigo, wondering which one to answer first.

"It matters because he doesn't know about the soul.  Apparently the Watcher told him that I'd made a childe and he of course jumped to the worst possible conclusion-that the chip was broken and I was out roaming the streets for kills again.  Figures he'd fuck that one up.  So what do you think he'll do when he gets here?" Spike was starting to get agitated.  Willow could see the muscles in his jaw jump about as he clenched his teeth.

"Um, talk it out?" she asked without much conviction.  Neither of them held out much hope for that outcome.

"Well," he answered laconically, "He might talk a bit to Buffy-AFTER HE STAKES ME.  No, I'm thinking it'll be more along the line of stake now, talk later.  Or stake now, play with the ashes later."

Willow cast a glance at him, wondering if Spike was right.  Would Angel really do something that drastic? And if he would, what would he do to her?

Spike saw the question before she had a chance to ask it.  "Oh, don't worry my sweet childe," he murmured sarcastically.  "I'm sure he'll stake you too."

Her head jerked around to look at him, his words surprising her.

He gazed back at her, a smirk playing along his lips.  "What, you don't think you're immune or something, do you?  That he'll let you live for old times' sake?  Get real!"

"But," her lower lip quivered a bit, and he resisted the urge to reach out and touch it with his index finger, "But I'm not evil.  I've got a soul-and-and all that stuff!"

"Ah, but he doesn't know that, remember?" Spike reminded her, watching the uncertainty build in her eyes.  He knew that she didn't want to depend on him; hated to, in fact.  But he also enjoyed the process of bringing her to heel, forcing her to learn to trust him.  Because when it came right down to it, he was really all she had.

Willow lowered her head, her hair becoming a barrier behind which she hid her thoughts.  A slight hint of blood reached his nostrils, and he knew she was nibbling on her lower lip again.

"How did he know?" she asked again.  "I mean, how did he know that you turned me?"

Tired of craning his neck up to look at her, Spike finally gave in and pulled himself up to sit next to her.  He grabbed at the pack of cigarettes next to him on the nightstand and withdrew one, taking a match from the book on the nightstand and striking it against the back of the package.

"He didn't know that it was you I had turned," he explained, blowing a billowing stream of smoke from his mouth.  They both watched it swirl lazily before dissipating altogether.  "He just knew that I'd turned someone.  Must've felt it through the bond.  The Watcher was the one who on-so-helpfully clued him in on the fact that it was you," he added sarcastically.  "Have to thank him for that later."

Willow frowned, trying to fill in the blanks in her mind.  "So Giles tells him that you turned me-"

"At which point my loving sire goes completely ape-shit," he finished.  "Moron hangs up on ol' Rupes before he can explain the circumstances, and by the time the cheerleader can be contacted for an explanation, Angel's already got a fifteen-minute start to Sunnydale."

"But, sunshine!" Willow reminded him.

"Underground parking," he countered.  "Probably special tinted windows too.  Heard of a guy in L.A. that does 'em."

"So what is this bond?  How come he can feel me, but I can't feel him?  Or you?"

He turned to frown at her, his eyes narrowing almost accusingly.  "What do you mean, you don't feel me?"  He thought for a minute, his lower lip jutting out slightly.  "Maybe it's the soul interfering.  Damn."

"How is it supposed to work?" she asked hesitantly.  "Maybe I just don't know how it works so I'm not doing it right?"

Spike considered that for a moment, his eyes following another puff of smoke as he released it into the air.  "Could be.  Maybe the soul just makes it more difficult.  After all, the poof was able to sense you."

Willow closed her eyes and sat silently for a couple of minutes, her body still, and her face blank.  She tried to shut off her other senses one by one.  Finally, she was alone in her body, all extraneous sounds, thoughts and emotions gone from her consciousness.

There.  Pushed back into the corner of her mind was something so small, so hard to see.  She concentrated her energy on it, willing it to life, and it flared open, flooding her with emotions and sensations that she knew were not her own.  Concern, anger, possessiveness, boredom, and confusion trailed through her, before being abruptly terminated.

Willow's eyes flew open, turning to stare at Spike with surprise and wonderment in her eyes.  "That was you?  That was so-cool," she breathed softly.

"That was me," Spike agreed.  "Now try for Angel."

She closed her eyes again, searching her mind for the place where she had found the link to Spike.  She searched the space meticulously, looking for something she could attribute to Angel.  Finally, after she had almost given up, she saw the tiniest glimmer, so very dull and far away.  Bringing all her energy to it, she pried at it and nudged it, and finally it opened a bit, hesitantly, allowing her a brief glimpse inside before the lid slammed shut on it.  An aftertaste of sorrow and bitterness lingered in her mouth, and she sighed regretfully.

"I think that was him.  All sad and bitter and broody."

"Yeah, that was Angel.  He must've been curious about you to have let you get that much."

The sat in silence, Spike pondering what he could never have again with his sire, while Willow thought about how difficult it would be to survive with such sorrow and not be tempted to give up living with the soul.

Spike turned his head and eyed her thoughtfully, deciding that this would be a good time to bring up how he expected her to behave with the others tonight.

"So I made some promises to the Watcher today.  About your behavior tonight."

"My behavior?" she asked quietly, confused.  "Do I have to do something special?"

"Just don't threaten to eat anybody, okay?" he requested.  He had a good thing going and he didn't want her random acts of weirdness to ruin it for him.

"Why would I do that?  They're my friends; I don't want to eat them!" she replied hotly, becoming agitated.

"Sometimes you get a littleâ?¦hyper, I suppose we could call it.  Headstrong, maybe?  Argumentative?" he reminded her, watching her eyes glitter with anger.

"The only time I argue with you is when-" and she stopped there, clamping her mouth shut.  'Is when you're being stupid,' she wanted to finish.  But she was going to play the game by his rules, she reminded herself.  And part of that was not arguing, even when he said something colossally stupid and insulting.   So instead of finishing her sentence, she merely stared back at him, smashing her anger down and wiping it from her eyes.

Spike smirked at her, knowing the internal battle she was waging to keep her mouth shut.  He had to admit that she was doing a pretty decent job of it.  "Just remember, the calmer and more in control you are, the less reservations they'll have about you.  And the less reservations they have, the sooner life will reach some semblance of normality for you."

He stood up, stretching the muscles in his naked body in an attempt to shake the last lethargy of sleep from his body.  Willow glanced at him, and then pulled her eyes away, staring down at the foot of the bed in an attempt to ignore his nakedness.

Eventually curiosity got the better of her, and let her eyes drift towards him again.  This time she stared at him boldly, appraisingly.  She was a vampire; she was allowed to do that, right?  They were all into that amoral sex thing.  It was like a birthright or something.

He stood in profile, his arms stretched high over his head.  Long lean legs with muscular calves led to strong thighs, leading to-her eyes skipped past that for now, moving up to admire his flat abdomen and impressive abs.  Shoulders that she knew from experience were hard and yet strangely soft led to a pale, long neck.  Her demon battled her for control as she remembered how it had felt to have her teeth deep inside his neck, rich sire's blood filling her mouth and dripping thickly down her throat.  A soft growl broke the silence, and Spike turned to smile at her, amusement tugging the corners of his lips upward.

"Hungry?" he asked teasingly, his eyes gentle.  He had felt her eyes on him, measuring him, exploring him.  It was natural, something to be expected.

When she nodded eagerly, he came back to sit next to her on the bed again.  This time he made no attempt to cover himself with a sheet or bedspread, however, and Willow was slightly discomfited by the sight of his semi-erect cock, so close to her.  Images of her last night alive threatened to overwhelm her, but she fought hard to push them away and maintain control.  She could do this; she would not let thoughts of that night punish her forever.

He saw that she was fighting for control, and it took him a moment to figure out why.   The twin scents of her fear and embarrassment were heavy in the air.  Neither surprised him particularly, once he took a moment to think about it.

Nudity meant nothing to him; when alone he rarely wore clothes.  But because of the things that had happened to her recently, he realized that she was still adjusting to that, along with so many other things.  Still, she needed to get used to it.  He was not going to change his lifestyle to suit her or her soul.

He watched with approval and a small bit of pride as she got herself under control, choosing to ignore his nakedness as she turned to face him, her chin resting gently on his shoulder.  Her tongue peeked out from between red full lips, and he felt the rough texture of it licking a short path along his neck.  Then her face turned, and she struck, her fangs sliding smoothly beneath the surface of his skin.

They both moaned, and he felt his cock harden.  The sound of her voice, the feel of her fangs and lips as they worked his skin, her delicate hands as they clamped hard onto his shoulder, the scent of both their arousal in the air; all of these combined to make his cock surge to attention.  He waited uncomfortably as she finished feeding, nearly groaning with relief as she finally released him, her tongue swirling around to catch any drops of blood she might have missed.  Unlike Dru, she was a very neat eater; almost dainty.  Looking relaxed and pleased with herself, she leaned back against the headboard, eyes closed.

"Wow," she whispered quietly.  "That's really, reallyâ?¦fun," she finished, a satisfied smile settling on her lips.

Spike looked down at his raging hard-on, thinking that 'fun' wouldn't exactly be the word he would choose.  Bloody fucking unsatisfying might be a little closer to describing the level of intense sexual frustration he was experiencing at that moment.  Soon, he reminded himself.  Soon.

"Time to get ready to meet your little friends," he grunted finally, wondering how he was going to deflate himself enough to get his cock into his pants.

~Part: 13~

Willow and Spike stood at the door to the Watcher's apartment.  The redhead fidgeted, her motions jerky and nervous, as she stared blankly at the door before them.  Spike stood silently behind her for a moment, before he impatiently reached around her to rap sharply on the door.

The door opened, Giles' uneasy countenance appearing before them.  He took a look at the two vampires, giving Spike a cursory glance before concentrating his attention on Willow.

His eyes catalogued the pale skin, even paler than in life, along with the unnatural sparkling in her green eyes and the change in her posture.  He couldn't place a finger on it, but there was something undeniably different in the way that she presented herself now.  It wasâ?¦bolder?  Yet at the same time it was quieter, as if to say 'I'm here, but I could disappear at any moment if I really wanted to.'  Shaking his head at the fanciful notion, he motioned them in.

Willow stood still, reaching a hand out to caress the invisible barrier in front of her.  It felt flat and yet it gave slightly, as if she were touching a pane of permeable glass.  "Cool," she breathed softly, her voice curious.

"Oh, please come in.  I do apologize; how thoughtless of me," Giles murmured, embarrassed at how easily he had forgotten that basic rule of vampire etiquette.

Willow frowned slightly as the sensation under her hand dissipated, and then walked slowly into the apartment.  It felt somehow smaller than the last time she had been there.  Or maybe she felt bigger; she wasn't really sure.  Her eyes roamed the room, looking for the others she was to meet tonight.

Giles noticed her actions.  "You are the first to arrive," he confirmed, unable to take his eyes off of her.

Spike pushed her inside, jostling Giles slightly as he led her into the living room.  "Sit," he told her, pointing to a spot on the couch.

Willow eyed him mutinously, her ire quickly kindling.  She thought about reminding him that she was *not* some sort of pet he could order around, but then remembered the talk they had had earlier about control, and decided to bite her tongue for now and do as he asked.  She sat demurely on the sofa and folded her hands in her lap, the very picture of a proper young lady.

Giles watched the entire episode avidly, his curiosity evident.  Spike watched the Watcher as he watched Willow, seeming greatly amused by the complicated dance they were performing.

"You got that money you promised?" Spike asked casually, smiling as the flustered human hurriedly brought out his wallet and counted ten twenty-dollar bills into his hand.

"That should help you for a bit, until we can figure out some other arrangement."

Spike nodded, counting the money and then tucking it into a back pocket.  More than he had asked for.  He might actually get used to living like this.

Willow was surprised; she had been unaware that her well-being was part of a financial transaction for Spike, and the thought bothered her.  She knew that Giles did not have unlimited funds.  Maybe she could get a job, something she could do from home by computer, so that she could help pay her own way.  As soon as they moved into the new place she would start looking, she decided.

A knock at the door disrupted Willow's thoughts.   As Spike sat down on the couch next to her, Giles hastened to open the door, admitting Buffy, Xander and Anya.  The three moved into the living room slowly, as if unsure of themselves or their situation.

Willow stood up quickly and turned towards the door, her demon screaming at her, reacting to the new arrivals in a way that it hadn't when it had met Giles for the first time.  She took an involuntary step backwards, the back of her leg hitting hard against the side of the coffee table, rattling the glass top, the sound loud in the suddenly quiet room.

Buffy was the first to say something, taking in the redhead's reaction and moving slowly, coming to stand deliberately in front of Willow, but far enough away to not seem threatening.  "Hi, Wills," she said softly, her voice gentle and friendly.

Something inside Willow snapped, and her soul lunged for control, flinging the demon aside.  An uncertain smile came to her lips as her eyes locked onto those of her friend.  "Hi," she answered back shakily, her eyes sweeping the room to take in the positions of the others in relation to herself.

"I'm sorry," she said sadly.  "I don't mean to be like this, it's justâ?¦"  She stopped, unable to find a way to say the words that didn't sound cruel.  Somehow she felt certain that the phrase, 'I'm afraid to hug you because I might lose control and accidentally sink my teeth into your neck,' would not inspire confidence in her friends.

"You're doing okay, pet," Spike encouraged solemnly, pulling her back down to sit next to him on the couch, slinging an arm casually around her shoulder.  Her earlier anger towards him was gone, and she moved closer to him, the uncertainty about her situation driving her to him for physical comfort.

"What she's trying so hard not to say," he told them, as the others filed into the room, careful to sit in places that would not crowd her, "Is that the demon is reacting badly to Buffy."  He stopped for a moment to look at Willow, watching her nibble on her lower lip, as she often seemed to do when she was worried.  "That was it, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," she agreed quietly.  "I-it-well, it's like I constantly have to fight it.  And I don't want to hurt you guys," she added seriously, tears threatening to form in her eyes.  "So maybe it's better if we just don't get too touchy-feely, at least not yet?"  Her chin tilted up and she forced her eyes to clear, drawing on a well of inner strength that seemed to show up when she needed it most.

Four sets of solemn eyes greeted her, and although there were large amounts of uncertainty in them, love and acceptance were there as well, and she couldn't help but smile at them.

The moment was shattered by the sound of frenzied pounding at the front door.  They all froze, and it would have been comical if Spike hadn't known exactly who was on the other side of the door.

A moment later, the loud voice of his sire joined the pounding, and Spike couldn't help but smile a little at the looks on the others faces when they heard Angel's voice.

"Rupert, let me in.  We need to talk about Spike. I won't let him get away with this!"

Buffy looked positively stunned to hear the voice of her former lover.  Then she looked down at her clothes and got a slightly panicked look in her eye, as if thinking to herself that if he shad known he was going to be there, she would have dressed better.

Xander looked confused.  He needed to direct his hatred and anger at somebody, and years of history made him want to direct it at Angel.  But under these circumstances, Angel actually seemed to be agreeing with his line of thinking:  death to Spike.  Making up his mind that it was best to cover all bases, he shot an annoyed look at Spike, and then focused his hate filled gaze on the front door.

Anya, who sat curiously at Xander's side on the faded loveseat, kept her eyes and ears open, always amazed at the situations these humans managed to get themselves into.

Giles, who was grateful that they were all together now so that this issue could be explained once and then dropped, merely rolled his eyes at Angel's rather melodramatic attempt at an entrance, and walked evenly to the door.  He opened it calmly, looked into Angel's angry face, and stood his ground.

"Angel, as soon as you promise to hear me out and not interrupt, or hurt anyone, or jump to any conclusions, I will give you what you want.  An invitation, that is."  He had worded his greeting with particular care, so that there would be no misunderstandings.

The dark vampire merely looked back at him and blinked, rather confused by the welcome he had received.  He took a moment to breathe deeply, his demon identifying the scents of four humans and the two demons easily enough.  What were they all doing there together, at what seemed to be an amicable, social occasion?

Looking at the expectant human standing before him, Angel realized that the man was waiting patiently for an answer.  Although he was still quite confused at the reception he had received, Angel definitely wanted to find out what the hell was going on here.

"You have my word, Giles.  I won't stake anybody until I hear what you have to say," he agreed, his voice low and angry.  He hated it when he didn't know everything that was going on; it made him feel like he was trying to solve a puzzle without all of the pieces.

Willow heard the words 'won't stake anybody' and realized uneasily that it wasn't just Spike he was threatening.  He considered her the enemy as well, and the thought made her sad.  Then again, he didnâ?Tt know about the soul yet, so it wasn't completely his fault.

Maybe she was the person who should set this right?  She stood, crossing the room to stand beside Giles at the door.  He looked tired and worried, judging by the lines on his face.  Suddenly she felt guilty that she and Spike were the ones who had put those lines there. She placed her hand lightly on his arm, hoping her touch would help to calm and reassure him.

"Fine, then you can come in," Giles said a little grumpily.  "As long as you promise to hear us out."

"Yes, please come in, Angel," she added, standing tall and calm, not a hint of the demon showing in her face or her demeanor.  "Giles needs to explain things to you, and you might as well be comfortable."

Angel stared at Willow in surprise, noting almost unconsciously the physical changes that had taken place in her.  She was beautiful in her own subtle way, he noted wryly, and wondered why he had never noticed it before.  Or maybe the demon had just instilled a bit of self-confidence in her that made her stand taller, and meet his gaze unflinchingly, which allowed him to notice things about her that he never had before.

When the stunned vampire continued to stare at her without setting foot inside the apartment, Willow finally took the initiative to pull him in and shut the door behind him.  She led him to a chair not far from the couch that she and Spike occupied, watching him seat himself before returning to sit down next to Spike.

"I'm not evil," she told him solemnly, needing him to understand that right away.  "I've got a soul."

Angel nodded slowly, having already realized as much the moment he saw her.  The creature that looked back at him from behind those shining green eyes had the same soul as the girl he used to know, and he had felt weak with relief when he came to that conclusion.

"Butâ?¦" he trailed off, not sure which question to ask first. There were just so many of them crowding his mind.  A hand came up to rub his forehead, as if to dispel the confusion that surrounded him.

Willow looked to Giles, "Can you tell it?" she asked quietly, sounding suddenly like a nervous little girl.  "I don't like to talk about it yet, and if you tell it, it's like it didn't happen to me."

Giles, still standing in the middle of the room, gave her a small nod of acquiescence.  Pulling a simple, high-back wooden chair from the dining room, he faced it to the assembled group and sat down, stretching his long legs out and crossing them at the ankles.

"There's really not much story to tell," he began, smiling at the incredulous look on Angel's face.  "Well really there isn't," he insisted.  Shooting one last look at Willow, who was sitting stock-still against Spike, her eyes shut tight, he gave Angel an abbreviated version of what had happened.

~Part: 14~

Angel sat forward with his elbows on his knees; classic thinking pose.  He absorbed Giles' tale with a minimum of interruptions, although he did take the time to shoot Spike several dark venomous looks, which the blond refused to acknowledge.  As the story came to an end, Angel's eyes focused on Willow.

"I'm sorry Willow," he offered softly, watching as her eyes opened and a sad smile settled on her face.

"Not your fault," she countered.  "It happened, and Giles and Spike did what they did, and now I've got the rest of my life to figure out."  She said the words with a bravado that the others admired.  Only Spike knew what the effort cost her, as he could feel her shaking slightly against him.

"Do you have any idea who did it?" Buffy asked, trying to keep her voice even and casual.  She wanted answers, wanted someone to blame, but she didn't want to seem obvious about it.

"I-no, I don't know," Willow hesitated for the briefest of moments before answering.  She thought about answering the question honestly and telling Buffy that members of the Initiative had raped her.  But something inside her stopped the words as they formed.  Buffy might be a Slayer, but she was still human.  She couldn't touch the Initiative.  And when Willow went after them, as she knew that someday she would, she didn't want to be hampered by Buffy's thoughts and human ideas of right and wrong.

So she lied to them all.

Spike knew, of course.  He hid it well though, merely shooting a casual glance at her, the look disguised as something entirely different.

And she suspected Angel knew as well.  He had watched her face as she answered the question, and had certainly noticed the silent communication that passed between sire and childe.

But the others had no idea.

"So Spike, you finally made yourself a childe, did you?"  Angel's tone was faintly mocking, curious to see what Spike's reaction would be.

Spike shot him a look of pure venom.  He was feeling protective of her; that much was obvious.  It was good, but unexpected.  Spike had always been too selfish to make a childe in the past.  Angel wondered what had changed.

"Don't worry, *Angelus*," he said contemptuously.  "I'm not the same type of hands-on sire you were," Spike answered back, and Angel flinched at the words.  Memories flooded his mind.  The things he had done to Spike, had made Spike do, crowded around him.  For a moment the room was empty except for the two of them, as they both remembered how it had been.

"If you ever-" Angel began, the threat dying unfinished on his lips.

"Not gonna hurt her," he growled, glaring at his sire.  He tightened the arm slung around the redhead's shoulder, a gesture of ownership and possessiveness that the others didn't understand and therefore didn't notice.  But Angel saw it, and he growled low in his throat.

Willow's eyes tracked the faces of her friends.  Buffy and Xander looked confused, while Anya merely looked curious.  Giles caught the desperation in the redhead's eyes, and provided a badly needed distraction.

Clearing his throat and taking a step back as all eyes in the room seemed to center onto him, he settled his gaze on Willow.  "Did you want to go see your new home now?" he asked.

"Please?" Willow agreed softly, hoping that a change of pace would put an end to the vampire posturing.  She wasn't sure exactly what was going on, but could probably guess.  The two male vampires were engaged in some sort of age-old grudge match, and it didn't look like either of them were going to give it a rest anytime soon.

"C'mon, Spike," she called softly, placing her hand on his arm in an attempt to tear his eyes away from his sire.

He gave her a casual glance, and then the cocky vampire she was beginning to know was looking at her again, his battle with Angel seemingly forgotten.

Buffy came around to look at Angel, her gaze fond yet tortured.  They hadn't seen each other in quite some time, and she hoped to make the most of this unexpected visit.  "Ride with me Angel?" she asked hopefully, her eyes filling with sadness as he slowly shook his head.

"I need to talk to them.  Find out if everything is really okay.  It'sâ?¦important."

She could see that it *was* important, and not merely an excuse to stay away from her, so she let him go, trailing behind as they filed out of the apartment.

They drove in a caravan, Buffy leading the way, still in her mother's borrowed SUV, followed by Giles in his ancient Citroen.  Anya and Xander were next, in Xander's old pickup, the faint sound of rock music slipping out from the crack of Anya's open window.  And bringing up the rear were the vampires, Angel unwittingly playing chauffeur to Spike and Willow, who sat comfortably in back of his large, black convertible.

Spike had always enjoyed this car, thought it was rather comfortable and enjoyed being able to stretch out his long legs.  He'd never give his sire the satisfaction of hearing him say it aloud, of course.  And what vampire in his right mind would buy a convertible anyway, he wondered.  That was almost asking for trouble.  But the rest of it was all right in his book.

His gaze wandered to his childe sitting next to him.  She had closed her eyes, a look of intense satisfaction on her face.  As he watched, she arched her back slightly, and released the hair that had been trapped between her shoulder blades and the car seat, and let it float free in the passing breeze.  She seemed to be letting herself relax at last, now that the drama of the initial meeting was over.

"You did a good job there, Red," he whispered into her ear.  The small smile that curved the corners of her lips assured him that she had heard his words.  "I know it wasn't easy for you, keeping the demon under control, but you did it."

"I had a little help," she acknowledged.  "Thanks, Spike.  You made things easier than they might have been."

He merely nodded back at her, acknowledging her gratitude but not wanting to make a big deal of it.

"You have incredible control," Angel said quietly from the front seat, his eyes still set on the road.  "It took me years before I could quell the demon, but you seem to be able to do it almost easily."

The unsolicited praise surprised her.  "It wasn't as easy as it looked," she admitted, her eyes staring at the rear view mirror as if she could actually see his reflection in it.  "My control was kind of tenuous," she said uneasily.  "I'm glad we drove together.  The thought of being in a tiny car with all of those heartbeats and the sound of the blood rushing beneath the thin skinâ?¦" her voice trailed off, and she closed her eyes for a minute, flashing a bit of fang before the soul took control again.

"Willow, it took almost a year before I could be around humans and keep the demon at bay.  When my soul was as new as yours was, I could never have stood in a room with all of those people.  I would have run as fast and as far as I could, the demon fighting me every step of the way, literally and figuratively.  What you've managed to accomplish so quickly is nothing short of amazing."

She glowed at the praise, extra special because it was coming from her grandsire.  Regardless of how Spike felt about Angel, she felt a bond to him that she had never felt before.  Must be the call of family, coupled with the fact that they both had souls, which made her so comfortable with him.

Angel watched the road diligently, but his mind was elsewhere.  He thought about all of the things that the young woman had yet to experience.  The soul was a must if she was to have any kind of a 'normal' life, but there were situations when it could be just as much of a negative as a positive.

She would have the soul while she watched her friends grow old and die.  Angel had been there himself.  He had watched as those he knew had suffered and finally died.  But without the soul, he hadn't cared a whit.  Now, for both him and Willow, it would be different.  Although he knew that Spike could care less about these people, saw them merely as a means to an end, Angel had respect, and a certain fondness, for the rag-tag team of misfits who came together now and again to save those who would never know or ever thank them.

The fact that she had lied to them earlier gnawed at him, and he hoped that she would trust him enough to be honest with him now that the others were not around.

"Why did you lie to them earlier?" he asked, timing his question so that he was able to look back at her, catching the troubled glance that passed between her and her sire.

Silence greeted him, and he couldn't help but sigh.  "Willow, I'm not judging.  I just want to know-"

"You just want to know something that is none of your bloody business," Spike growled, the golden glints in his eyes shooting daggers into the back of Angel's neck.

"I just wanted to help, if I could," he explained to Willow, hoping the young vampire would accept his words and his help.

"Help?  That's a right funny idea," Spike jeered, smirking as he saw Angel's grip on the steering wheel tighten until the knuckles gleamed white.  "Somehow I didn't think revenge was your cup of tea these days."

Willow watched the argument between the two vampires with a decided lack of interest.  She had made her choice, and nothing would change that now.  Besides, she knew that the discussion going on around her had more to do with times gone by than the here and now.

"There's the college," Willow called out excitedly, bouncing in her seat as they rolled past the campus, now fairly quiet after a long day of classes.  "I need to register for night classes soon, okay?" she asked Spike excitedly; the joy she took in learning was something that death had not changed.  "And hey, I bet I could play on a sports team now.  And be really good too, huh?  Could you see me?  Maybe playing baseball? I bet I could kick some serious ass!"

Spike looked at the animated expression on her face and bit back a laugh, his discussion with Angel forgotten for the moment.  His childe was winding herself up again, getting all excited about the myriad possibilities her life had to offer.  It was going to be fun watching her interact with her friends in a little bit.  They still expected her to be solid, dependable Willow, but bit-by-bit she was changing into someone else.  Should be an interesting show.

"Yeah, I could see you with the cap and the glove and everything, but even vampire reflexes won't help if your hand-eye coordination isn't good.  Maybe we can get the Watcher to get you a video game or something so you can practice."

She snorted and gave him an incredulous look.  "Video game?  Yeah right.  You just want Giles to buy the video game thingy so that you can play with it all the time.  I bet you'd never let me practice at all!"

Something else was bothering her; Spike could see it swimming behind her eyes, and he wondered how long it would take before she came out with it.

"I want a job," she declared determinedly, staring at him and challenging him to deny her this.  Well apparently it hadn't taken her that long to come out with it after all, he thought.

"Pet, you do remember that you'll turn to dust if you're hit by direct sunlight, don't you?  Little thing like that does make it difficult to hold down a 9 to 5, you know?"

"Duh," she shot back at him, matching his sarcasm with her own.  "Ever heard of a computer?  I could work from home, writing and debugging programs, and nobody would ever know that I had a severe sun allergy."

Angel listened to their exchange with amused tolerance.  She had seemed so quiet earlier, almost fragile.  But with just the two of them around her now, she had opened up and was showing strong streaks of independence and rebelliousness.  Spike was definitely going to have his work cut out for him, and the very thought of it brought a smile to the older vampire's lips

Through the haze of decades gone past he remembered his Spike as a newly risen vampire.  Time had worn the rough edges of the memories down, helping him to remember more of the good times than the bad.  Apparently the opposite was true of Spike:  he seemed only to remember the bad things.

Spike had not been an easy childe to raise.  He had been willful, stubborn, and way too eager to attract all of the wrong types of attention.  From the looks of things, Willow had a lot of the same character traits.  The next couple of years should be quite the challenge, for both of them really.  Whether Spike would be able to tame her, or whether Willow would end up with Spike wrapped around her little pinky, still remained to be seen.

~~~*~~~

Buffy's car came to a stop in front of an ordinary brown duplex, the yard dotted with trees that would provide copious amounts of shade, even during the middle of the day.  At night, with the lights out, the place looked dark and lonely.  Willow refused to be deterred by that fact as she bounded excitedly from the back seat of Angel's car, not even waiting for him to come to a complete stop.

"Oh, wow, this is so cool!" she said eagerly, her eyes sparkling with excitement as they took in the building.  "Like the first day at school, when everything's brand new and thrilling.  And even though you know in a couple of weeks you'll be used to it and it won't be any big thing, it's still really exciting NOW."

Buffy's glance held equal parts surprise and mirth, and Giles fought back a smile of his own as he joined them.  "Would you like to see the inside?" he asked, finally losing the battle to keep from smiling as the redhead nodded her head up and down as if it was on springs.

Giles took the key out of his pocket and unlocked the door, walking inside.  "Please come in," he said, welcoming Willow and Spike into their new home.

~Part: 15~

Anya gave them a portable CD player as her own personal housewarming gift, and soft jazz floated through the home, a quiet backdrop to the conversations taking place.

Willow was upstairs with Buffy and Anya.  Her eyes got big with excitement as she took in all of the touches from her old life.  The pictures of friends and happier times sat next to books on Wicca and spell ingredients.  And then she saw her laptop and began to babble so quickly and joyously that the two women with her were afraid that she might spontaneously combust.

Her earlier nervousness at being able to keep her control had slowly faded as she spent more time with her friends.  Having them talk to her, surrounding her with reminders of who they were and how they fit into her life, made the demon fade quietly away for a while, and Willow took advantage of the time to try to relax and renew her friendships.

"So, how is Spike?  You know, in bed?" Anya asked curiously, having waited until Buffy went to the bathroom to mount her sneak attack.

"Anya!" Willow squealed, startled and embarrassed by the question.  She plopped down on the bed, hands moving together restlessly as she tried not to think about what Anya had just said.  The other woman sat down next to her, a sharp gleam in her eye.  Like any other predator, she sensed weakness and went for the kill.

"What?  You're a demon now, right?  And demons, they're good with the sex.  Believe me, I've seen it."  She gave Willow a knowing look.  "The things I could tell you," she insisted, thankfully letting the sentence trail off after that.

"Spike and I-it's not like that," she explained, her demon rousing a bit at the thought of her sire and sex.  And what was taking Buffy so long in the bathroom?  Willow was certain that Anya would not have posed such a question if anyone else had been around.

"Have you looked at his hands?" Anya asked, in what Willow thought was a rather odd change of subject.  "They're big.  You know what that means."

"Ummâ?¦it means he has to buy big gloves?" she ventured, uncertain where this conversation was going.

"No!" hissed Anya, slapping Willow lightly on the arm in what she apparently thought was a friendly, 'we're all girls together' type of gesture.  "It means he's got a big penis!" she told the flabbergasted redhead.

Willow's eyes darted quickly around the room, making sure that nobody else was there.  Her face was shocked, and if she hadn't been a vampire, it probably would have been beet red.
"My Xander has big hands," Anya proclaimed smugly.

Willow was saved from having to deal with that disturbing mental image by Buffy's return from the bathroom.  "So what did I miss?" she asked curiously, taking in Anya's smug smile and Willow's trapped and embarrassed look.  A sudden horrifying thought struck her.  "Anya!  You didn't?!"

"What?" Anya asked innocently, her eyes wide and guileless.  There had been a reason she had waited for Buffy to leave the room before talking to Willow.

"God, Anya.  They're not sleeping together!" Buffy exclaimed heatedly.  Anya had mentioned the subject before, but Buffy had been able to extract a promise from her not to bring it up again.  Apparently the promise had meant more to Buffy than it had to Anya, if she had broken it that quickly.  Buffy gave a quick look at Willow, trying to gauge her mood.

"They may not be now, but they will sooner or later," Anya muttered, annoyed to have been caught.  She was right, damn it, and the rest of them were just too squeamish to admit it.  "I've told you, it's part of the sire-childe-"

The ex-demon's words were interrupted by Buffy, making a show of holding her hands over her ears and loudly repeating the mantra of "I can't hear you, I can't hear you, I can't hear you."

Willow wished she could block out her thoughts as easily as Buffy had drowned out Anya's words.  She knew that Anya was correct:  a normal vampire sire and childe would sleep together as a matter of course.  Her demon expected it, anticipated it, and she was sure that Spike did too.  He had been cautious about the situation due to the circumstances of her turning, but sooner or later things would change.

~~~*~~~

The discussion downstairs wasn't going much better.  Angel and Spike had taken themselves off to the bathroom, where the older vampire hoped they could argue in relative privacy.  They faced each other warily in the confines of the cramped bathroom, less than three feet's space between them.  Angel lounged against the counter, seeming calm, although his angry eyes belied the evidence his face offered.

Spike plopped down uneasily on the closed cover of the toilet seat.  Might as well be comfortable, he figured, since he was certain to be given the tongue-lashing of the century from the broody bastard in front of him.

"I bet you just jumped at the chance, didn't you?" Angel's first volley did not take Spike by surprise.  He had known it was coming; had even imagined the words that the pouf would use.  But all of his well-constructed defenses died on his lips now that he was faced with his angry sire.

"It wasn't like that," he muttered darkly, his head bending down to concentrate on his chipped black fingernail polish.  He picked at the ragged edge of a hangnail as he tried to ignore his demon.  "She was dying, you bloody sod.  What was I supposed to do?  Just let it happen?"

"Yes," Angel hissed, "Yes. That's exactly what you should have done.  Let her die, like she was meant to."  Why couldn't his childe see that what he had done was cruel and wrong?

"Couldn't do it," Spike shot back, his head jerking up, soft brown and icy blue eyes meeting and locking.  He remembered what she had looked like-broken bones, hundreds of small cuts, the look of anguish on her face as she waited to die.  "You didn't see her," he insisted angrily.  "It was bad.  They didnâ?Tt just rape her, they broke her."

Angel stared at Spike incredulously.

"What?" the blond asked, goaded by the look of skepticism his sire gave him.

Angel sighed, noting with surprise that Spike really did not get it.  "You're getting all misty-eyed over what they did to her.  Yet I know you've done worse.  Hell, I've watched you do it.  Helped you, even."

"That was different," Spike argued, shooting to his feet, his hands clenched at his sides.

Anger sparked in Angel's eyes, his voice going low and dangerous.  "Different?  In what way was it different, Spike?  Please tell me, because I'd really like to know," the dark vampire insisted, sarcasm ringing in his voice.

"Remember that girl in Italy?" he asked, his eyes locked on Spike's, watching as his words hit home.  "The one with the dark hair and the stormy grey eyes?  Lucia?  Was that her name?"  He waited for the blond's nod.   "Remember how you beat her?  Until her back was a bloody mess, the blood so thick and slippery that we had to wipe down the floor afterwards so that we wouldn't slide and fall on our asses?  And then, when you tired of that, you fucked her and visited every sexual depravity on her that you could think of. But even then she just wouldn't die, would she?  Do you remember what you did to her next?"

Spike nodded silently, his face a blank as the memory of her screams echoed in his head.  The room was silent for a moment as they both remembered a time and place very different from this one.

"So what makes you think you can suddenly take the moral high road on this one?" Angel asked curiously.

Spike was lost in thought, so deep that Angel wondered if he would even get an answer to his question.

"She was mine to take.  Mine to kill," he replied sullenly.  "Mine.  Not theirs."

"So this was revenge against some faceless bastards that stole your kill?  That's pathetic," Angel sneered.  "You're no better than they are."

"But I'm a demon, mate," Spike reminded him, a bit of his usual cockiness seeping back into his voice.  "I'm supposed to be evil, do evil things.  Them?  They're humans.  Higher standards and all that."

Angel cocked his head to the side curiously as he considered his childe.  The certainty in his voice when he talked about 'them' was unexplained.  There was more to this story than what he'd heard so far.  But what?  "How do you know they're human, Spike?  What aren't you telling me?"

Spike shook his head angrily as he fought to control his stormy emotions. He contemplated his sire uncertainly.  There was a fight ahead, whether any of them knew it or not.  Willow wanted revenge; needed it really, in order to start a normal life.  And he wanted it too.  Those bastards that had stuck the chip in his head had to pay, and in his mind paying usually meant lots and lots of blood.

As much as he hated to admit it, Spike knew that Angel could be a help in their fight, a useful ally.  Or he could be the wrench in the works, spilling their secret to Buffy and Giles, and making everything that much more difficult.  He just wished he knew where Angel's true loyalties would fall.

Angel suspected he knew the source of Spike's uneasiness.  "Blood will always prevail," he said softly, watching understanding settle on the blond's face.  Resolve as well, apparently.

"It was the Initiative.  Same bastards that put this lovely piece of hardware in my head," he admitted at last, watching Angel for signs of betrayal.  He did not trust the other demon, even though he longed to do just that.  But his decision had been made; now all he could do was sit back and hope for the best.

Angel regarded him through narrowed eyes, searching the other vampire's face for lies or trickery.  "The same ones," he drawled thoughtfully.  His demon demanded he join in the fight, insisted that they bring these bastards to their knees and then gut them like fish.  These so-called humans had almost destroyed his childe, and what they had done to Willow-his mind shied away from those thoughts.

Every once in a while a situation came along that caused the demon and the soul to agree.  This was one of those rare instances.  Their reasons were different; the soul thought that what the soldiers were doing was cruel beyond tolerance and that they had to be stopped, while the demon just wanted revenge and a chance at a bloodbath.  But the conclusion was the same either way.

"When you're ready to move against them, I'll help."  He said the words without any special emphasis or emotion.  It was cold, calm statement of fact, nothing more.  The Initiative had fucked with the wrong demons.  They would have to go.

~~~*~~~

Giles and Xander tried their best to ignore the questionable goings-on in the downstairs bathroom.  Occasional raised voices were punctuated by bone-shuddering growls that the two human men could not only hear, but feel as well, leaving them both oddly on edge.

Xander tried to fill the silence with meaningless small talk, but Giles, being Giles, didn't quite know how to reply to Xander's verbal volleys.  In the end, both humans sat and drank, Giles favoring whiskey while Xander concentrated on his Pepsi.

They both looked up eagerly as they saw the three women traipse down the stairs.  Things must have gone well upstairs, Giles surmised, as everyone seemed to be smiling.  He noted a bit of tension behind Willow's eyes, but the situation was a new and exacting one, and he chocked his observation up to that fact.

His neck cracked as he stretched, his body tired from a rather long day that included more physical activity than he was accustomed to.  Maybe it was time to say his good-byes and let the children reacquaint themselves.  Things seemed to be going fine with Willow, and he saw no pressing reason to stick around any longer.

"Willow," he said, watching as those intense green eyes came to rest on his face, "I'm feeling rather tired.  I think I will call it an evening.  Would you walk me to my car?"

Grateful to escape Anya's curious gaze, Willow quickly joined Giles outside, walking him to the battered old car.  "Thanks for everything," she said gratefully, looking up at the older man, who seemed to be at a loss for a response.

"I-I just want things to be good for you, Willow.  You deserve that much."

"Things are okay Giles," she assured him.  "Weird, but okay."

He hesitated a moment, his hand on the car's door handle.  "You're not-angry then?  With me?"

She considered the question, her eyes seeming as dark as the night that surrounded them.  "I was surprised," she allowed, hesitating briefly.  "I'm still not sure how this will work between Spike and I.  I'm trying to be good, but sometimes the demon just wants to test him.  See what the limits are.  I'm getting better at controlling it though," she confided proudly.

Giles tried to nod knowledgeably as he swallowed the lump of unease that had settled somewhere in his throat.  Intellectually he had known that these things were likely to happen, but to hear the redhead explain them so calmly and analytically just gave the whole conversation a surreal quality.

"I have faith in you," he said finally.  "And we'll be here to help you, every one of us.  Just call if you need anything, day or night.  And on that note, I will take my leave," he added, opening the car door and moving quickly inside.

Willow watched as Giles drove away, the car spewing noxious fumes in its wake.  She knew she should probably go back inside, but instead she sat on the front doorstep, looking out into the night and thinking.

~Part: 16~

Spike found her on the front doorstep, sitting quietly, elbows on her knees, face propped up in her hands.  He watched her silently for a moment before moving to sit next to her.

"The Watcher take off then?" he asked, although he already knew the answer.  It was a way to start a conversation, that was all.

Willow turned towards him and nodded briefly, before looking back out at the road.

"We need to talk about something," Spike said.  "This thing about you going back to schoolâ?¦"

"Yeah?" she asked uneasily, sensing an impending argument.  She really didnâ?Tt want to fight with him again, not here, not now, not with the others so close-by.  But if he kept pushing her, she could probably manage to do her part.

"It's not a good idea-" he started.

"Damn it, I *knew* you were going to say that!" she replied angrily, lashing out with all of the pent-up fear and frustration the day had given her.  "You just can't stand that I want to do things by myself.  It's all about control, isn't it?  Isn't it!?  Well you can't control me.  I'm going to go back to school whether you want me to or not!"

Spike's eyes flashed amber and he stood quickly, hands at his sides, clenched into fists.  "Won't have a whole lot of fun at school if you're just a pile of dust," he sneered down at her.  "Have you thought about that?"

Willow jumped to her feet, her demon clamoring to be let free.  Her human face melted away until nothing but the demon remained, her eyes spitting yellow fire.  "Don't you dare threaten me," she hissed, and a soft growl emanated from somewhere inside her.

Spike looked incredulous, then laughed in her face.  "That little growl thing you did?  That wasâ?¦cute.  Just really cute.  And you know what else?" he asked as he stalked towards her.

For each step he took towards her, she took a faltering step backwards, until her back was pressed tightly against the side of the house.  Still he came at her, his steps calm and measured, the smile on his face cold and calculating.

"What?" she asked, her voice beginning to falter as her demon fled at the sight of an angry sire.

"Not. At. All. Threatening."  He looked down at her and wondered how the hell he was going to teach her anything.  Pain was usually the weapon of choice with a fledgling, but that weapon was out of his reach.  Reasoning with her didn't seem to do much good either.  Maybe fear would work better.

"Now *this* is a threatening growl," he said, and growled from deep within his chest.  The sound and scent of his anger sent chills up and down her spin.  His hand shot up, curving around her neck and pressing it up and into the building behind her.  Her feet scrambled wildly for purchase as he jolted her further upwards.  Cutting off her air supply was no big deal since she no longer needed to breathe, but the fact that he could hold her immobile without any effort at all stung her pride.

The pain and pressure on her throat shocked Willow.  Other than the time he had spanked her, Spike had never intentionally hurt her in anger.  Maybe this time she had pushed him a little farther than he was willing to be pushed.  Maybe this time she would pay the price.

He watched as realization dawned in her eyes:  he was in charge; she was not.  As he tightened his grip on her throat, a soft cry of dismay broke from her lips, and the twin scents of pain and arousal filled the air.

The arousal didn't surprise him much.  For vampires, pain and pleasure were inexorably linked.  It was simply a part of their nature.  Just as the smell of food would bring about salivation in a human, a little bit of pain would bring forth feelings of arousal from a demon.

Willow could smell the scents in the air and tried to figure out exactly what was going on.  She smelled something that reminded her of pain and misery, sweet and smooth and wanting.  But there was something else, and it confused her.  She sensed it coming from both of them, and although the smell was delicious and exciting, she wasn't sure exactly what it meant.

It hit her like the proverbial ton of bricks. Her eyes opened wide, the pupils shining in the moonlight.  "No!" she cried desperately, squirming frantically in an attempt to break away from him.  "No, no, no!"

"Yes," Spike whispered, bringing his face up close to hers until their lips were only an inch apart.  "Yes, yes, yes."

She fell under his spell, her body going still and her eyes focusing on his lips as they slowly moved closer to hers.  The hand that had moments ago held her neck in a punishing grip suddenly released her and set her feet back on the ground.  His hand began to caress her neck lightly, soft touches that left her knees weak and her mind blank.

We can't do this, something inside her screamed, trying to wrench her body away from his.  Her soul began to compile an emotionless, logical list of all the reasons why this was a mistake, but her body and demon were having none of that.

As abruptly as he had attacked her, he suddenly stopped his actions, taking two steps back and looking at her coolly.  "Now," he murmured, seemly unaffected by what had almost happened between them, "shall I tell you why I don't want you going back to school just yet?"

Willow stared dumbly at him for a moment before nodding weakly, her mind still tormented by thoughts and denials, embarrassed and horrified by what had almost happened.  It had only been a kiss, a voice inside of her tried to insist.  Well, almost a kiss.  But she knew that there was more to it than that, and wished she could just have some time to herself to analyze what had almost happened, and how she felt about it.  But Spike was still in front of her, challenging her, making her pay attention to him.  Thinking of that sort would have to wait for later.

Spike reached into his front pants pocket, taking out the battered package of cigarettes hidden there.  He selected one casually, bringing it to his lips as his hand went in search of his lighter. "You've gone to a great deal of trouble to keep the identity of your attackers from your little friends, right?" he asked, the words coming out slightly muffled due to the cigarette between his lips.

Another nod was her only reply, so he continued.  "Only reason I can think of for doing that is because you'd like a spot of revenge."

"Yes," the demon hissed eagerly.

"Your little mates wouldn't agree with your 'live and let die' philosophy, now would they?  That's why you haven't told them anything.  That's smart."

She cocked her head as she watched him curiously, waiting for him to continue.  The way that he always seemed to know how and why she did these things, when even she didn't really know and understand it herself, surprised her and made her slightly uneasy.  Was she so very obvious?

He prolonged the silence, releasing a stream of smoke into the air and watching it dissipate.  "Element of surprise is a big deal, you know?  Can give the advantage to one party, where it might otherwise have gone the other way."

Spike stopped, his eyes drawn to hers as he said the next words.  "Gonna be kind of hard to surprise them if they see you wandering around campus, the girl they killed a week ago."

Her eyes widened as the meaning of his words hit her, understanding dawning in bits and pieces.  THEY were on campus.  And what would they think if they saw her?  And when they came to the inevitable, inescapable conclusion, what would they do?  She didn't have to ponder that last question for long.  Two choices:  they'd either capture her, or kill her.  Neither sounded particularly appealing.  She'd been captured by them before; death would be preferable to the things they had done to her.  The thought of their hands on her body, their cocks rutting inside her, made her want to retch, and she trembled in a bundle of conflicting emotions.

"Left you for dead, they did," Spike reminded her, watching the emotions fly across her face.  There was anger and fear there, and fear scented the air as well, but he also sensed conflict.  The demon was angry and needed revenge.  The soul still fought against it, burdened by fear, and irrelevant notions of right and wrong.  Fortunately for both of them, the demon seemed to be winning.

Her face was still so expressive; she'd never be a decent poker player.  No ability to bluff convincingly, to hide her feelings.  It was a tactical advantage for him when he needed to deal with her; that much was true.  But it was something that she needed to work on, for her own good.

"I can't go back yet, can I?" she asked sadly, looking up at him shyly.  Tears she refused to cry sparkled lightly in her eyes.

Spike fought the need to hold her, comfort her.  He was still angry with her, he reminded himself.  She needed to learn to trust him and his judgment, instead of flying off the handle every time he told her something she didn't want to hear.

The door opened behind them, casting a light glow over their bodies.  "So this is where the party is, huh?" Xander asked, a note of forced joviality in his voice.

As Spike watched, she blinked several times and the tears disappeared completely from her eyes.  She turned to face the boy, a fake smile pasted on her face.  "Hi Xan.  Sorry, we were just discussing how great this place is."

From the way he looked at her, Willow suspected that Xander wasn't fooled, but he allowed her the luxury of her fantasy.  "Come back inside, Willow.  We can play a game or something.  Buffy brought Pictionary," he said temptingly.  He knew that she loved the game, even though she was terrible at it.

Willow shot a glance at Spike, then tilted her head towards the house, a question on her face.

"I'll finish this first," he told her, flicking the hot ash from the tip of the cigarette and watching its descent to the cement below.  "Be in after that."

She nodded once, wishing for a moment that she could apologize for lashing out at him earlier, but perhaps that was best dealt with later.  She turned and followed Xander into the house, closing the door softly behind her.

~~~*~~~

Spike took his time finishing the cigarette, lingering outside of the home and contemplating his surroundings.  By the time he ventured back inside, the game was in full swing.  Buffy, Anya and Xander were bent over a large piece of paper, watching Buffy draw what looked like a mushroom with a frown on its face.  'A bad trip,' he thought, trying not to laugh as the others came up with answers ranging from 'Sammy the sad mushroom' to 'no sex.'  Apparently Xander had decided the mushroom looked more like a penis than a mushroom, and his guesses were skewed accordingly.

Willow motioned for him to sit down next to her on the couch, pushing against Angel to encourage him to move a little further down the couch in an effort to make more room for the blond.

"You're on our team.  Oh, and we're winning," she whispered, speaking quietly in an effort not to disturb the others, so hard at work at their task.

"Not surprised," he replied equally quietly.  "They're bloody awful."

She smiled tentatively in agreement, still unsure what to make of him after their encounter on the doorstep.

"Time's up!" Angel announced as the last of the sand moved through to the bottom of the hourglass.

Buffy slumped back into the loveseat, defeated.  "No sex?" she moaned, her eyes shooting daggers at Xander.  "How the hell did you get 'no sex' out of this?  Why, any moron could see that this is a mushroom!"

"Bad trip," the three vampires said in unison, the same smug smile on each of their faces.

"See, even they got it!  And Angel, well, he's not known for his pop culture knowledge.  No offense," she shot the vampire a look of apology.

"Well at least I got the mushroom part right," Anya preened.

"Yeah, Sammy the sad mushroom.  Quite the stroke of genius," Xander shot back.  He gave the mushroom another glance.  "Maybe if you'd given him a switch blade or a bandana or something?  Nothing says 'bad' like a switchblade."

Willow laughed out loud, the sound catching them all a bit by surprise, even her.  "But Xander, that would make it 'gang member wanna-be' mushroom."  Her smile took the sting out of her words, and he grinned back at her, his dopey, 'yeah, I'm just a big idiot' kind of grin.  For a moment they were the same old Willow and the same old Xander, before the Initiative, before the whole 'vampire' thing.

Angel broke the moment.  "I need to get back to L.A., so I guess I'll be going.  Spike, why don't you walk me out?"  It was a command, phrased in the polite guise of a suggestion, but all three vampires knew better.

"Can't you stay just a little longer?" Buffy asked, her voice slightly wistful.

"Sorry," he replied, his eyes softening.  Surprisingly, he realized that he meant it. The last hour or so had actually been pleasant, maybe even fun.  The easy camaraderie of friendship was something that he missed.  Everything in L.A. was so dark and gloomy; rarely did he and the others have a chance to sit around a table and talk, or play a game of cards.  He regretted that.

Willow stood up, looking like she might follow them, but Angel gave her a slight shake of his head and a warning look, and she sat back down again.

"Thanks for a very," he stopped for a moment, looking for just the right word, "interesting evening.  And Willow, if you ever need me, for any reason, Giles has my number.  Give me a call and I'll be here."

"Thanks.  I'm glad you came," she said softly.  "Oh, and thanks for not killing me!"

The words came out of nowhere, catching him by surprise, and he couldn't help but laugh.  Even as a vampire she was charming.  Spike didn't stand a chance, he thought.

~~~*~~~

They stood on the doorstep, sire and childe, staring out into the night sky.  "You hurt her and you'll answer to me," Angel told him, making his position clear.

Spike merely stared at him, refusing to speak.

"I know; you'll have to-discipline her.  Teach her.  But that's it.  Don't take your anger and frustration out on her.  I find out you have, and I'll have her in L.A. so quickly your head will spin."

His threat delivered, Angel walked to his car, got in, and sped quickly into the night.

~Part: 17~

While Spike headed back into the house, their other guests were planning their departures as well.

Willow was in hyper-mode again, thanking them effusively for all of their gifts and their help with the house.  When her eyes lit on Spike, she became slightly more subdued, as if remembering something that bothered her.

"Buffy's going to give us a ride to the crypt so we can get the rest of our stuff.  Oh, and we have to find Buffy too."

"Huh?"  The Buffy of the Slayer variety was understandably confused by Willow's statement.

"Willow's got herself a kitten.  Named it after you," Spike smirked, watching hopefully for some fireworks from the blonde.

"Um, okay?" she seemed confused, although not terribly angry.  Spike was disappointed, but he wasn't about to give up that easily.

"Yeah, mangy, dusty, little furball.  Worthless, if you ask me."  His wording made it unclear whether he was referring to Buffy the human or Buffy the kitten.

Sparks of anger began to build behind Buffy's eyes as she trained them first on Spike, and then on Willow.  "So why did you name it after me?" she asked her friend, her voice unnaturally flat.

The redhead smiled happily, as if she took no notice at all of the goings-on around her.  "Because she's fast and has a killer instinct," she replied guilelessly.  The reasons she had given to Spike about having a Slayer for a pet were going to come back and bite her on the ass; she just knew it.  But she certainly wasn't going to say them herself.  If Spike wanted to go down that road with Buffy, that was his business.

Looking a bit less uneasy, Buffy glanced at Willow, ignoring Spike altogether.  "Maybe I can meet her?" she asked, suddenly a little shy.

Willow understood that this was more than it sounded like.  Buffy was asking to come back, to spend time with her, and Willow smiled happily at the gesture.  "You can come by whenever you want, Buffy."  She looked over at Xander and Anya, "You guys too.  Any time," she repeated.

Spike shot her an irritated look but didn't contradict her.  Knowing her as he was beginning to, he understood that having them all in her life would steady her and help her adjust.  He wasn't happy about it, but he would have to put up with it for now.  After all, he had forever.   They were merely blips on the radar, there for a short time and then gone.

~~~*~~~

Buffy dropped them off in front of the cemetery, watching the two vampires sneak stealthily into the night.  Willow's red hair seemed to linger a bit longer, while Spike, even with his bright yellow hair, took better advantage of the shadows, wrapping them around him like a cloak.

Enjoying the peace and quiet of the cemetery, Buffy turned off the engine of the vehicle and simply sat for a while, thinking about everything that had happened in the last day.

It had all been nerve-wracking.  From the moment she saw Willow, to Angel's unexpected arrival, to Willow's reaction to her new home.  It seemed like there were just way too many things to be packed into one small day.

Willow was different.  She understood that now on both an intellectual and an emotional level.  But as different as she was, Buffy still saw glimpses of her old friend behind those curiously sparkling eyes.

She feared that spending so much time with Spike would make Willow sarcastic and maybe even cruel.  But as long as Willow, and Spike she supposed, allowed the rest of them to be a presence in her life, Buffy would try to combat Spike's influence as much as possible.

She sank deeper into thought, her eyes closing momentarily as she considered what Willow would do with the rest of her life.  Would she go back to school?  Or just hang out with Spike?  Somehow she couldn't see her friend spending eternity as some kind of stay-at-home vampire; the redhead needed more interaction with others.  Being turned into a vampire wouldn't change her *that* much.  At least she hoped not.

A sudden rapping on the driver's side window startled Buffy.  She scrambled to the other side of the bench seat, her hands reaching automatically for the spot underneath where long ago she had hidden several extra stakes.  As she gripped the stakes, her head swiveled around, searching the night for the source of the noise.

When her eyes met those of her would-be attacker they widened in surprise.  Riley Finn, the T.A. in her and Willow's Psychology class, stood just outside the door of the vehicle, a rather sheepish smile on his face.

Buffy trusted Riley.  There was just something kind and moral about the young man, and she had felt comfortable with him immediately.  Well, comfortable and yet completely nervous.  He was handsome, in a 'down on the farm' kind of way, and although Willow tended to disagree with her, Buffy had always thought that Riley was kind of cute.

Feeling rather sheepish at her overreaction to his knock on the window, Buffy tucked the stakes back under the car seat and then slid over to the driver's side.  She stopped for a moment, less than a second, to give her spidey senses a chance to detect any vampire activity in the area.  Far off in the distance she could sense Spike and Willow, like a tingling pressure down her spine, but other than that, the area felt surprisingly vampire-free.

Buffy rolled down her window, giving Riley her best and brightest smile.  The words 'fancy meeting you here,' passed through her head, but thankfully she let them go right out the other side without being uttered.  Cheezy dialog was definitely not needed.

"Hey," she said casually, deciding to go for the whole minimum word-age thing.  It had always worked for Oz, making him seem cool and smart.  Maybe it would work for her?

"Hey," Riley answered back, a friendly smile on his face.  Despite the smile, Buffy sensed something else behind his eyes.  Was it worry?  Or uncertainty?  Did it mean that the straightforward Iowa farm boy was more than he seemed?

Buffy shook her head slightly, amused by her own paranoia.  That was what living on the hellmouth did to a person; it made them doubt those around them, and the motives for their actions.

"So, what are you doing out here so late?  In a cemetery, of all places?" Riley asked, his voice carefully casual with just a hint of curiosity burning through it.

Good question, Buffy admitted uneasily.  Think fast, she chided herself.  He'd never believe the truth.  Unless maybe he would, in which case she would be even more worried.  "Well, it's quiet.  I like cemeteries.  They're-ya know-quiet," she repeated awkwardly, "and I can think here.  Kind of clear my mind, you know?"

Riley leaned against the car, his eyes roaming the neighborhood, picking apart the shadows, although he tried to hide it.  "Yeah," he agreed, "I know what you mean.  It's really peaceful here."  He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts.  "You need to be careful though.  There are lots of-well, bad people out there, and they tend to come out at night.  It can be dangerous, even if you're young and quick."

"I can handle myself," Buffy replied sharply, shooting him an appraising glance.  For a moment there she could have sworn he was about to say something else, something about evil lurking in the night, or some such romantic garbage.  Her mind was playing tricks on her again she decided.  There was no way this wholesome farm boy knew about what went bump in the night.

"Tell ya what," she said, leaning over the edge of the open window and looking up at Riley as she batted her eyelids flirtatiously.  "I have to drop this monster of a car back at my mom's place, and then walk back to campus.  Why don't you come with me, and then you can walk back with me?  That way you can keep me safe, and I can keep you entertained.  Sound good?"

Riley couldn't help but grin at her enthusiasm, and quickly decided to take her up on her offer.  He had been suffering through a late patrol, but hadn't run into anything more dangerous than Buffy, which meant that the evening had been pretty dull overall.

"Sounds good," he agreed eagerly.  He lost little time in circling the car and opening the passenger side door, sliding comfortably into the cool, air-conditioned car.  "Nice ride," he added appraisingly.

"Yeah, it's not bad.  Mom's just letting me use it for today though.  After that it's back to walking."

They fell silent after that brief exchange, each wondering what they could say that wouldn't sound silly.  It was a comfortable silence though, and Buffy pondered that fact, wondering how she could feel so relaxed with someone she knew so little about.  Screwing up her nerve, she cast a quick look at his face, noting his thoughtful expression.

What was he thinking about, she wondered.  Like Angel before him, Buffy had little idea what made this man tick.  Was he just as comfortable with this silence as she was, or was he uneasy, or perhaps bored or maybe just tired?

"You never told me what *you* were doing out there tonight," she said suddenly.  Was it her imagination, or had he started guiltily at her words?  She pulled into her mom's driveway, setting the parking brake and sliding the key from the ignition.  Turning slightly to look at him, her eyes searched his face for clues.

"Nothing much to tell," he answered, his face devoid of any expression she could easily identify.  "Just taking a walk, clearing my head.  Like you, I guess.  Then I saw you there and figured I'd see if you needed any help."

"Well I'm glad you did," she replied softly, letting her lips part slightly and her expression become soft and welcoming.

"I'm glad I did too," he responded.  "C'mon, let's get you back on campus where you belong, huh?"  He opened his door, and jumped out, moving around quickly to open her door as well.  She was slightly surprised at the old-fashioned gentlemanly gesture, but in some small way it touched her.  Maybe she was the Slayer, and able to do that kind of thing for herself, but sometimes it was nice to be pampered and taken care of.  There was nothing wrong with that she insisted, to the dismay of her inner feminist.

They chatted comfortably as they walked back.  The ice had been broken, and suddenly they found themselves unable to stop talking.  He talked about growing up on a farm, something that she could never even imagine.  She talked about her friends and family, and how she was getting on during her first year in college.

It made her sad that she couldn't tell him everything about herself and her life, but she knew that he wasn't ready for it; maybe he wouldn't ever be.  Then again, they had never even had a date, so maybe she was getting a little ahead of herself with that.

"Speaking of friends," he said, drawing her attention back to him, "what's going on with Willow?  I haven't seen her in class for a couple of days, and that's really unlike her."

He was surprised to see the look of pain flash across her face, quickly hidden.  It was brief; merely a momentary burst of emotion, but something told him that it was serious.

"Willow is-well-she has some personal issues to work through," Buffy said finally, her voice soft yet carefully controlled.  "I don't know if she'll be back this quarter."

"Oh, I'm really sorry.  I had no idea," he apologized hastily, although his mind was racing with curiosity, wondering what kind of problems the young woman could be having.  From their conversations, he knew that Willow was an avid student, someone who sought out tough classes not just because she *had* to take them, but because their complexity excited and challenged her.  Whatever was going on with her, it would have to be something serious if she was purposely withdrawing from school.

"It's just-well, something she'll have to get through.  But I think she's going to be okay.  I hopeâ?¦" Buffy trailed off uncertainly, hoping that if she believed the words strongly enough, they would come true.

Relief flashed through her as she realized that they were in front of her dorm.  "Thanks for the company," she said.  "It was nice to talk and stuff."

"Yeah, it was.  Oh, tell Willow I said hello when you see her, okay?  And, um," he was nervous, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.  "Would you go out with me?" he blurted out, sending the words out on a long exhalation.

Her sudden smile was enough of a reply, but she followed it up with a breathless, "Yes, I'd love to," that had his head spinning and left his heart lodged somewhere up in his throat.

"Great.  I'll call you.  Tomorrow.  We'll set it up, okay?"

"Sounds great," she agreed happily, giving him one last smile before heading into the dorm.

Riley walked casually around to the front of the dormitory building, watching restlessly until he saw the light come on in her window.  Once he knew that she was safe, he headed east, towards the dorms that housed the Initiative.  He still had to make a quick report to Maggie Walsh, but as soon as that was finished, he would have the rest of the evening to figure out where he would take Buffy for their first date.

~Part: 18~

Willow collected her scant personal items in silence.  All she really had were the clothes and shoes that Spike had bought her the other day, so it didn't take her long.  In the meantime she watched curiously as Spike surveyed the remnants of the life he was leaving behind.  Most of what he needed, he could put into a half-dozen crates.  Mostly books, a few records, a VCR, and the small TV.   Oh, and that ever-dazzling wardrobe of black.

She wondered what it was with the black.  Navy blue was a perfectly respectable dark color, as were hunter green and dark purple, but Spike and Angel had rarely worn anything except black.  Was it a vampire thing?  Should she insist on an all-black wardrobe?  Was she even now failing in her vampiric duty by wearing a light green top with dark blue leggings?  But black just wasn't a very 'Willow' color, she reminded herself.

"A year of my life, and this is all I have to show for it," Spike grunted, lugging a box full of clothing and bedding from the lower level and dropping it on the floor beside him.  The wooden crate protested as it hit the floor, but refused to fly apart.  The blond kicked it for good measure, watching as it skidded across the cement floor and came to a stop by Willow's feet.

She looked around the crypt, realizing that there were several other things they would not have the room to carry.  "Should I see if Buffy's still here?  I could ask if she'll give us a lift back before she goes home?  We could put this stuff in her mom's car and then we could take more with us."

Spike shrugged his shoulders, leaving the decision up to her, and moved to his bookshelf to throw some books into another crate.

"I'll be right back," she said quietly, slipping out the door and into the night.  Spike merely watched for a moment before turning back to his task.

Willow walked quietly but quickly, trying to keep to the shadows.  She knew that any vampire with more than a couple of months under his belt could probably take her in a fight, and had decided that the best way to avoid that was to try to blend in and make herself unnoticeable.  It was a trait that she had long practiced as a human, and now that she had the extra-stealthy vampire thing going on, it was even less of a challenge.

Realizing that Buffy's car was still parked in the cemetery parking lot, Willow made her way towards the car.  Then she saw something that startled her:  there was a figure standing in front of her friend's door.  As she watched silently, Buffy rolled down her window and began to talk to the person.  She strained her hearing to its limit trying to catch the words, and was rewarded by bits and pieces of their conversation.

It was Riley, she realized.  Buffy had a bit of a thing for him, so Willow was hesitant to break up what seemed to be a friendly conversation between the two of them.  Maybe she should just quietly fade away; Buffy could take care of herself, and from the soft feminine laughter she heard, she knew that her presence would be an interruption.

She watched for a few minutes more, just about to turn around and head back to the crypt, when a hand from behind her clamped itself over her mouth.  Panic surged within her.  She wriggled frantically, until she heard calm words whispered in her ear.  "Relax, it's just me.  Didn't want to startle you."

Well it's a bit late for that, she thought angrily, as she turned to glare at her sire.

"So what do we have here?" he asked curiously as he watched Buffy.  She was in full-on flirt mode, he noted, a part of him snickering at how obvious she was.  The bloke facing her seemed to be a thick, solid type.  Probably dumb as a box of rocks too.  They'd make a perfect pair, he thought spitefully.

Then the man turned and searched the shadows, and Spike froze.  He recognized the face.  His nightmares were peppered with the face of that man, and others like him.  Teasing, taunting, and finally hurting him.  Turning swiftly and silently, he dragged Willow back behind a small bush and placed his index finger silently to her lips as if to seal them.

Willow was confused; she could feel Spike's emotions surging like a relentless tide.  His fear, strong and angry, shot into her through the bond and she had to stop herself from doubling over, the emotion was so strong.

Her eyes sought his, looking for guidance.  He grabbed her arm, pulling her swiftly back to the crypt, easing the door shut quietly behind them.

"What's wrong?" she asked, confused and disoriented by his behavior.

"That bloke.  The one Buffy was talking to.  You must know him, or you would have done something, right?"

She just stared at him, trying to understand why he was asking her these questions.  The intensity of his voice and the force of his gaze as it bored into her were beginning to scare her slightly.

"Right?" he insisted again, his hands shooting out to close onto her shoulders.  He shook her slightly, wanting to scream at her, to impress upon her how urgent this was.

"Yeah," she said finally, speaking softly, hoping to calm the flame of his emotion.  "That's just Riley.  He's okay.  I mean there's nothing particularly exciting about him or anything.  He's a T.A. for one of my professors.  Buffy likes him; thinks he's cute or something."

"I knew the Slayer had something to do with this," he muttered, releasing his grip on her shoulders.  Pacing angrily around the crypt, he stopped to throw words at her from over his shoulder.  "Even when she insisted she didn't, I could feel her fingerprints all over this damned chip," he hissed.

Willow shook her head, hoping somehow that the action would knock all the puzzle pieces in her mind into a design that would make sense to her, because so far nothing was.  Making sense, that is.  "What are you talking about?" she finally asked him, shrinking back from the angry glare he shot her.

"He's Initiative," Spike said flatly.  "The Slayer's nice, unexciting boy is a member of the Initiative."

He watched as she flinched from the words, her face frozen in shock, her eyes growing large and frightened.  "No, he couldn't.  He's-he's my friend.  He wouldn't have-he couldn't have done that to me."

She sank down to the floor, pulling her knees up to her chest in an effort to protect herself from the ugly truth.  "Riley wouldn't do that," she whispered, shaking her head frantically at the thought.

Spike cursed himself for forgetting that they had both been raped by the Initiative.  In his case it was more of a psychological rape, but it left him just as angry and, although he would never admit it to anyone, just as frightened.

He dropped down to sit beside her, fighting not to take it personally when she leaned away from him.  "Shhh," he murmured, moving slowly to drape his arm around her shoulders.

She fought the contact for a moment, her body growing stiff as she battled her fear.  Finally she relaxed against him, her face going soft as tears began to gather.  The touch of his hand on her head, as it gently brushed the hair back from her face, acted as a catalyst.  Before she knew it, the tears were falling from her eyes, large wet drops, setting twin tracks of misery down her cheeks.

Spike thought back to the night he found her, considering the scents that had been there.  That particular smell had been absent.  He offered her the knowledge in an attempt to comfort her.  "He wasn't there that night.  I didn't smell his scent."

"But I thought you said he was â?""

"He's with the Initiative; I will never forget his face or his scent.  But I don't think he was there that night."

"Thanks," she offered quietly, sniffling slightly as she tried to quell her tears.  "I can accept that he's-one of them.  I just, I couldn't imagine that he would do something like that to me.  To someone he knew."

Willow knew that her words sounded like a version of 'it's okay that he did it to you, as long as he didn't do it to me,' and that bothered her.  Now that her perspective had changed slightly, she realized that what the Initiative had done to Spike was just as appalling as what it had done to her.  Different, but just as awful.

"I'm sorry.  What they did to both of us was terrible.  And they'll pay," she promised him, a bit of the demon coming out in the bald statement of fact.  She *would* make them pay, she vowed.

~~~*~~~

Just as Spike was about to get up and suggest that they leave, a small scratching sound against the door caught their attention.  "Buffy," Willow crooned softly, waiting impatiently as Spike went to the door to slide it open just a fraction, pulling a face when the kitten raced into the room and threw itself straight into Willow's waiting arms.

Buffy had obviously been playing in the dirt â?" it hung from her body, chunks of it falling to the ground as Willow picked it free from her fur.  "What have you been up to, you naughty kitten?" she scolded, her voice devoid of anything but affection.

"Ready to go, pet?" he called from the door, hefting the TV and several of the crates in his arms.

Willow nodded, placing the kitten in the uppermost of the three crates that she was to carry.  Thank goodness for vampire strength, she thought.  Otherwise most of these crates would be staying right where they were.  They would come back tomorrow night to pick up the less important items, but any crypt left unoccupied for too long would become a magnet for squatters, so after tomorrow they would have to take everything else they wanted.  Fortunately, that wasn't much.

Spike left first to make sure that everything was clear.  Buffy and her friend were long gone.  His senses ranged off in all directions but could not hear the slightest sound or heartbeat.  Now or never he figured, as he motioned Willow out into the night.

~~~*~~~

They made it back to their new home without incident or conversation, traveling quickly, each of them lost within their own thoughts.  Spike's mind was busy figuring out ways that he could use the information about Riley to their advantage when the inevitable confrontation between the vampires and the Initiative took place.

Willow's thoughts took an entirely different direction.  Although she was still concerned to find out that Riley was one of the commandos, her mind kept leading her back to the confrontation she had with Spike earlier that evening.

He had hurt her; she could still feel the imprint of his hand where it had closed around her throat, pulling her off of her feet as she struggled against him.  But what bothered her most was the fact that her desire had scented the air.  She didn't want him.  She didn't, she insisted.

But then why had her lust hung heavy in the air between them, a traitorous part of her mind taunted her.  Was it a reaction to the pain?  Vampires liked pain, she remembered.  Or at least Spike always had.  Maybe she did too.  Perhaps that was why she had become aroused at his touch.

That had to be it.  Anything else was unacceptable.

At the thought of her sire, she shot him a cautious look, her gaze settling on his face.  He stared straight ahead, his eyes far away, and she wondered what he was thinking about.

She might have asked him then, giving her question a casual tone, but their new home loomed before them, and Willow decided to leave him alone.  It was late, and she was tired.  And there were still the sleeping arrangements to figure out.

~Part: 19~

Spike set up the TV and VCR while Willow introduced her kitten to the rest of their new home.  The gray puffball had taken to the new couch enthusiastically, digging its sharp claws deep into the upholstery.  From there she had walked Buffy into the small laundry room that was just off the kitchen, showing her the hastily-improvised litter box, and explaining in a very serious, reasonable tone that the kitten needed to use this box for a couple of days because they did not plan to let her outside again just yet.

"She can't understand you," Spike muttered under his breath, the words carrying to Willow easily.  He had moved to the kitchen, and was unpacking the multitude of coffee mugs the others had bought them and stacking them in the dishwasher.

The redhead cast him a disgruntled glance, but chose not to respond.  She noticed that his shoulders were stiff with annoyance, and Willow was learning quickly to read the cues.  He was upset about something.  What it was exactly, she couldn't say.  Nor did she care.

Leaving Buffy to play happily in the litter box, Willow made her way into the kitchen.  She moved to the refrigerator, grabbing two bags of blood and stealing two mugs from Spike's box.

Soon the soothing hum of the microwave reached Spike's ears, along with the subtle scent of heating blood.  His demon came to life at the thought of food, and at the microwave's cheerful 'ping', his eyes settled easily onto the mug that Willow placed in his hand.

He was still raring for a fight.  His confrontation with Angel, followed closely by an equally frustrating one with his childe, made his demon eager for some violence, followed quickly by angry, rough sex.

Maybe she would be willing to skip straight to the sex?  Even as he had the thought, he knew it would not happen.  Maybe someday, but not today.

He wanted her; he admitted it.  He wasn't sure whether it was part of the sire/childe bond, or if the need had always existed in some form.  Seeing her tonight, along with his sire, and knowing that he would never share the bond that they did thanks to their souls, made him angry.  Angel was trying to steal yet another woman from him.  And she *was* his, damn it.  Soul or no soul, she belonged to him.  Yet he was still unable to treat her as he should.  That knowledge gnawed at his demon, making him quick to anger over inconsequential things that had nothing to do with the true problems between them.

Moving to sit on the couch, he cocked an eyebrow as she came and sat next to him.  They sat in an awkward stillness, neither one of them knowing how to break the silence.

"So what did Angel say?  Before he left?"  The words were said quietly, hesitantly, as if she was uncertain whether bringing up the subject was really such a good idea.

The look Spike shot her over his mug left her in no doubt of her mistake.  His eyes burned with fury, his lips forming a nasty sneer.  The growl that he added to it made her long to pull away and move to the other side of the room; the other side of the state was sounding even better at this point.

"Just couldn't wait to start talking about him, could you?  Wanna start a club?  Souled vampires only, of course.  No need for the likes of me to apply," he growled angrily.

An answering anger sprang to life in her eyes.  She had only asked an innocent question.  Satisfying her curiosity more than anything.  What the hell was his problem?

The answer came to her quickly, courtesy of her Psych 101 class.  Professor Walsh would have been proud of her analytical skills.  Spike was feeling threatened.  She and Angel had souls, he didn't.  Simple as that.

So what did she do about it? Pacify him and insist that the soul made no difference?  She could do it, could say the words, but she wasn't sure if she believed them.

Because the soul *did* make a difference.  It gave her and Angel a common ground, a way to relate to each other that went beyond sire or childe or vampire or blood.  Admittedly her situation was light years from Angel's; he had suffered for decades because of his soul, and the way he lived before it was returned.

Willow, on the other hand, had always had a soul.  Well, except for those brief hours of unconsciousness shortly after her turning.  But she hadn't killed or tortured anyone during that time.  She had barely been able to move even, much less wreak bloody havoc on an unsuspecting Sunnydale.

Something that Angel had mentioned earlier came back to her.  "Why haven't you ever made a childe before?"

Spike stared at her, trying to figure out how the conversation had gone from him trying to pick a fight about Angel to her asking about him making childer.  The way her mind worked confounded him.

"Drusilla," he answered finally, giving up on the fight for now.

"Drusilla?"

To Spike that one word was the answer to it all, but apparently Willow needed more.  He thought for a moment before setting the empty blood mug on the low table before him.

"She was my mate.  My love.  Didn't need anything else.  Besides, she was the jealous type.  Back when she wanted me," he added bitterly.  "Told me if I ever made a childe, she'd rip off its head before I could ever touch it."

Willow shivered, slightly in awe at the thought of such devotion.  She was a little uneasy as well, since she *was* Spike's childe.  Would Drusilla know, just as Angel had?  Would she come back to Sunnydale and make good on her threat?

"Wouldn't let her touch you," he told her, reading the emotions in her eyes.  He slung an arm around her shoulders, smiling slightly as she relaxed into his touch.   "Besides, she doesn't care anymore.  Doubt she'd even bother."

As relieved as she felt for herself, she still had a scrap of compassion left over for Spike.  The memory of Xander's affection for Cordelia haunted her sometimes, and she knew how much it stung when you loved someone so fiercely and they didn't return the feeling.

Silence covered them both, until Willow spoke again.  "What about after Dru?  You could have made one then."

"Nearly did," Spike drawled.  He kicked off the boots he wore, propping his feet comfortably onto the coffee table in front of them.  His mind raced, considering whether he should tell her the next bit.  Would she be flattered or angry?  With a mental shrug, he decided it didn't really matter anymore.

"I came back to Sunnydale with that thought on my mind," Spike admitted, watching as curiosity kindled in her gaze.  He had come back with two goals:  to kill the Slayer and to make a childe.  Fortunately for him, both the Slayer and his intended childe had lived in the same room.  One-stop shopping, he had cackled gleefully at the time.

Until the moment when he had tried to bite her and that damned chip went off.  The physical agony had melded with the emotional pain, creating a torment the intensity of which he had never felt before or since.

"Karma," he murmured, lost in thoughts of pain and disappointment.

"Huh?"

"Fate, destiny, you know the word," he said, staring straight ahead as if his answer explained everything.

She chanced a look at him, noting the far-away expression on his face.  "I know the word," she agreed.  "Why did you say it?"

His eyes returned to hers as a feral smile played around his lips.  "Because I came back here to turn you."

She dismissed the claim with an angry wave of her hand.  "You came back to kill Buffy.  I was just a convenient distraction.  Well, until the chip." the words trailed off unhappily.

Spike laughed, the sound hollow as it echoed in the walls of their home.  "Think about it, Willow.  Buffy was never home at that hour.  If she wasn't playing Slayer, she was out playing with her newest boy-toy.  But there was someone I knew would be there; someone studious and conscientious and sure to be home studying, even while everyone else was out living.  Who do you think that would be, pet?"

He watched as her eyes grew wide with surprise and her jaw dropped a good inch and a half.  His hand reached out, gently raising her jaw, the movement nearly a caress.  "You look silly, pet," he whispered, smiling and relaxing back into the couch.

"But-but you, you gave me a choice," she stuttered, her eyes roving the room wildly as if the answers to her problems were written on the walls.  "You said I could die.  You said!"

He had to smile at her naiveté, wondering if he had ever been that trusting.  "I was about to kill you, pet.  Evil demon and all that.  No soul here.  We lie sometimes."

The statement infuriated her, but he did have a point.  So instead Willow directed her emotion elsewhere.  "Don't call me pet," she pouted, scrambling off the couch and shrugging off his arm angrily.  "I'm not your pet!"

"No," he answered, his voice taking on a dangerous silky tone as he stood to face her.  "You're my childe.  Would you prefer that I called you childe?  In front of the others?  It's certainly more than appropriate sometimes."

She shook her head wildly, backing away from him and the anger she saw in his eyes.

Then a thought occurred to her, and she went from angry to teary in the space of ten seconds.  "My parents," she muttered, her throat choked with raw emotion.  She sat down at their dining room table, dropping her head to her hands as she repeated the words with a bit more volume.  "MY PARENTS."

Her parents?  The people that had brought her into this world and then, by all accounts he had heard, abandoned her?  "What about your parents?" Spike asked, closing the distance between them.  He pulled out a chair and sat next to her, wondering what he could do to calm her.

When Drusilla had been in one of her emotional storms, the safest bet had always been to pacify her, showering her with platitudes and flowery words.

Willow was a different matter altogether.  She was smart, quick to anger, at least since her turning, but also quick to feel hurt.  Her emotions changed on a dime; she and Drusilla had that in common at least.  Not that it made dealing with her any easier.  Her intelligence would make any insincere attempt on his part more than obvious, and she would pick at the scab of his words until she knew exactly what he was doing and why.  Insincerity would get him nowhere.

So that meant dealing with her honestly.  Something about that just seemed wrong to him, but he would try it nonetheless.

"What about your parents," he asked seriously, setting his elbows on the table and leaning in to look at her face.

Tears rolled down her cheeks, dropping at last onto the red tablecloth, turning it a darker red where they were absorbed into the fabric.

'Don't eat with your elbows on the table.'  How many times had her parents admonished her for that?  And yet now that she was an adult, everyone did it. Had the times and customs changed, or had children everywhere simply rebelled when they reached adulthood, finding the rule ridiculous and without purpose?

She shook her head slowly, finding her thoughts almost as silly as that age-old parental rule.

Hands that shook only a little bit came to her face and wiped away the tears, her eyes still red-rimmed and watery, but no longer crying.  She faced Spike, her lip trembling slightly.  "What am I going to tell my parents?" Willow asked him, tears again threatening to spill over.  "I mean, yeah, they're not here often, but someday they'll come back.  Someday," she repeated.  "And when I-I look like a teenager, but I'm in my 20s and then my 30s, and then."

Spike was at a bit of a loss.  He remembered his mother's face as she died, and then again when he staked the vampire that she had become.  The rest of his family hadn't been worth the effort to kill, so he had merely left them for greener pastures.  Western Europe, China, and all points in between had become his home.

The thought of having a family and actually caring about what they thought was something completely foreign to him, and left him feeling uncomfortable in his uselessness.

"How do you keep in touch with them?" he asked finally.

"Email mostly.  They call the dorm on holidays and birthdays.  Otherwise it's email."

"Well you still have that, right?"  He watched her nod, and then continued.  "So you wait until they say they're coming for a visit."

"And then?"

He thought for a moment.  "And then we jump off that bridge when we get to it," he finished.  She wasn't happy with that answer, he could tell that much by the look in her eyes, but he had nothing better to give her at the moment.

"C'mon up to bed, Childe," he said with a bit of a grin.

Willow tried to grin back, but the effort was somewhat marred by her watery eyes.  In the end she had to settle for a bittersweet smile, as she trudged up the stairs after him.

~Part: 20~

After eyeing the empty bedroom that was to be Spike's, they decided to sleep in Willow's room.  The bed was more comfortable, and even though Spike swore all the bric-a-brac was giving him hives and a nervous twitch, he was both too tired and too lazy to do anything about it right then and there.  Except complain.  He seemed to have an endless amount of energy when it came to that.

Willow thought about putting up a token protest about the sleeping arrangements.  After all, they were no longer in the crypt, with only one choice of bed.  But she was tired, he was grumpy, and somehow she sensed that the morning light wasn't that far away.   So in the end she gave in to practicality and threw herself into bed, after a quick trip to the bathroom to change into one of her old oversized t-shirts.

Silently she thanked Buffy and Xander, and the rest of her friends, for bringing by most of her clothing.  The outfits Spike bought for her weren't bad, but somehow sleeping in her own nightgown again made her feel almost normal, as if everything that had happened was merely a bad dream.

She was able to keep that pretence of normalcy almost up until Spike climbed into bed beside her, the smoke from his cigarette tickling her nose and sending her crashing right back to reality.

~~~*~~~

Willow was having the strangest dream.  She was drinking a milkshake through a way-too-narrow straw, sucking and sucking, but nothing was coming up the straw.  She moved her head slightly and sucked again, and a mouthful of wonderful, succulent, human blood was her reward.

No, not human blood.  This blood was rich and full and dancing with age and power.  It was sire's blood.

Her eyes sprang open.  A cool pale expanse of neck met her sleepy gaze.  An arm was draped casually around her waist, holding her to him, and when it became obvious that she was awake, a teasing chuckle reached her ears.

"Usually it's customary to ask before you taste," Spike reminded her, adding to himself that if he had had the temerity to do such a thing to Angelus he would never have lived to see another sunset.

Willow realized with embarrassment that she was still sucking down his blood and hastily retracted her fangs, calming the demon when it became angry at the loss of the delicious food.  "Sorry," she mumbled, refusing to meet his eyes.

Her tongue laved the skin of his neck, catching the stray drops weeping from the two neat puncture wounds.  The wounds that were closing before her very eyes.  She watched the show, fascinated once again by the speed at which his body, and now hers, could heal.

Spike ran his fingers through her hair, catching a strand and bringing it to his lips.  He blew a puff of air through it, watching it wave, then tugged it lightly, using it to draw her face out of the place where his neck met his shoulder.

"Care to return the favor?"

She wanted to deny him; he could easily read the look of panic in her eyes.  But after having been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, so to speak, she wasn't in a very strong position to refuse him.  He made his face as bland and inoffensive as he could, hoping to convince her to allow him this intimacy.

"Oh-okay," Willow stuttered softly.  She hesitated a moment before rolling onto her back, as he rolled onto his side, mirroring the positions they had held just a moment before.

Spike reached out a hand, brushing the hair lightly from the side of her neck.  He stroked her skin gently, watching her body tense at the gesture.  Taking a lock of her hair, he brushed it teasingly across her neck, grinning slightly as she fought to maintain her tense façade.  Ultimately she failed, and a tentative smile flowed across her face.

Knowing that she was ready, Spike felt his demon emerge.  As gently as he could, he punctured the surface of her neck, enjoying the feeling as he sank his fangs deep into her.

It wasn't quite the same as the last time he had tasted her, when he had turned her.  The blood was different now.  There was less innocence, and more sorrow and confusion, but the underlying flavors of magic and darkness were still there.  And of course, it was quite a bit cooler than before.  Still, the taste of it was delicious enough to bring a moan to his lips and make his cock surge to attention.

Willow's eyes grew large as she heard Spike's moan.  Her left leg was bracketed, one of his on either side, and although she tried her best to ignore or deny it, she could feel the hard length of him pressing against the flesh of her upper thigh.

Closing her eyes and trying to relax, Willow attempted to shift her concentration to something else, anything other than the feel of his cock.  She soon became lulled into a sense of comfort by the feel of his lips against her skin, sucking gently, and the rush of the blood as it traveled from her body to his.

Spike was careful to take small, cautious mouthfuls, using his tongue and his lips on her neck to ease the tension he felt rising off of her, until her body was pliant beneath his.  Her small hand came to his head, the fingers fiddling with his hair as he had toyed with hers earlier.  In her current state of relaxation he wasn't sure if she was even aware of her actions, but he wasn't about to say anything to draw her attention to them.

Deciding that he had taken enough, and had also managed to show his childe that an exchange of blood wasn't something to be dreaded, his fangs retreated, releasing their hold on her neck.  His tongue continued to swirl around on her skin, drawing a figure-eight pattern around the twin puncture marks.

Willow's mind and body were alive with conflicting emotions.  Analytically speaking, she understood that what was happening between them was perfectly natural.  Well, as natural as anything was between two vampires.

But on an emotional level things weren't nearly so simple.  This was Spike.  Her sire.  And while a part of her wanted to get as far away from him as possible, another part of her was drawn to him with an intensity that she couldn't deny or ignore.

The feel of his cock pressing against her thigh continued to remind her of what any other childe and sire would do next.  Did he want her in that way?  Or was it simply his body's natural reaction to blood and pain and the nearness of an available female?

Willow thought back to the previous evening, when he had hurt her and aroused her, all with one swift action.  She tried to deny her arousal, blame it on circumstances or pretend that it didn't exist, but her senses did not lie.  Her arousal had lain heavy in the air, like a cheap cologne.  She felt her body heat up slightly just thinking about it.  Fortunately she no longer blushed, but her body still had a way of making her feel her embarrassment.

Spike watched his childe as she thought, wondering why she felt the need to make life so difficult.  For him, everything was pretty simple.  Take what you want, and don't look back.

Admittedly it was a pretty simplistic view of the world, and life in general.  But when you were at the top of the food chain, life really was that easy.  Maybe it was just taking her a while to realize exactly how powerful she was now.  Or perhaps it was the damned soul getting in the way again.

Sharp pinpricks of pain blossomed in Willow's big toe, making her start and yelp in a most unvampire-like way.  Her eyes narrowed as she noticed Buffy, teeth and claws latched onto a bump under the sheet.  Unfortunately for her, that bump happened to be her toe.

"Buffy," she crooned quietly, wiggling her toe a bit in an attempt to dislodge the attacker.

Instead of discouraging the grey puffball, it seemed to have the opposite effect, and the cat attacked her foot again, leaping straight up into the air in a show of acrobatic agility and landing right back where she started, again digging her claws into the obviously hostile-looking toe.

"Ow!" Willow cried.  Both vampires could sense that Buffy had managed to draw blood this time, the hint of its scent stirring both demons, even though they had recently fed.

"Stop it, you furry pain in the ass," Spike growled.

The sound of the growling vampire got the kitten's attention, and it released the toe and stalked towards Spike.  Buffy slowly crawled up his thighs; her ears were laid back, her teeth bared, her bent legs keeping her low to the ground.  She obviously saw him as a fellow predator, and was determined to attack him before he could attack her.

Spike laughed at the sight of the kitten that hoped to make its mark on him, William the Bloody.  He had to give the creature credit for bravery; the odds were distinctly against it.  But it attacked anyway, regardless.

Or maybe it was just too stupid to realize how sorely it was outmatched.  He wasn't sure which was closer to the truth, but he still couldn't help being amused.

"Think you can take me, do ya?" he asked with a grin.  With lightening-fast reflexes he grabbed the kitten by the scruff of its neck, dangling it high over his head as the fluffy grey menace huffed and spat at him.

"I think she's starting to grow on me," he admitted, shooting a sidelong grin at the redhead, ignoring the kitten completely as he talked to Willow.  Buffy continued to hiss at him, trying to figure out some way to do damage to her captor.

"Spike, let her down!" Willow seemed as annoyed as the kitten, which made him realize that the two shared several traits.  Both seemed to be an ongoing pain in his undead ass, and they also both kept fighting even when they were in way over their heads.

"Fine," he snapped, trying to inject some real anger into his voice.  Instead it came out sounding whiney and petulant, which annoyed him even more.  "Take your pet and leave me in peace," he growled, plopping the kitten down on Willow's stomach and turning on his side, his back towards her.

Willow shrugged to herself, murmuring words of comfort and encouragement to Buffy.  When the kitten climbed up to her face and started licking her chin, she couldn't stifle the giggles that burst from her lips.  "Ticklish," she whispered to a non-responsive Spike by way of explanation.

Deciding that the blond was in the middle of a snit and would be no fun at all, Willow decided to get up.  She continued a running commentary as she picked up the kitten, grabbed some clothes, and hurried out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her.  Maybe mister snippy would be in a better mood when he'd had a little more sleep, she hoped.  In the meantime, she still had a new home to explore.

~~~*~~~

Willow pondered as she washed yet another coffee mug, the kitten standing guard by her side on the white tile countertop.  Buffy had been fascinated by the stream of water that came out of the faucet, staring it down and batting at it occasionally with her tiny paw.  Willow watched with amusement, leaving the water on longer than was strictly necessary so that she could enjoy the show.

Here it was, her first day, well, make that her first afternoon, in her new place.  Most of the boxes were unpacked; what meager possessions they had were now pretty much put away.

So what was she going to do with herself?

A sudden sense of raw panic overtook her, and her mind skittered wildly from one worthless idea to another.  She couldn't go back to school.  That had been made quite clear to her.  Nor could she go out and look for work.  Not right at that particular moment, at least.

What was she going to do?

The tap, tap, tap of the kitten's nails on the tile counter calmed her, reminding her of the clacking sounds her fingers made when typing.  That gave her an idea.

Willow knew people online, people from all over the world.  She had done everything from designing websites to writing computer code, and had turned down more than one job due to her school schedule.  Since school was on hold for now, and it was *only* for now, she promised herself, it was time to see just how serious those offers had been.

She was going to find herself a job.

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