Parts: 11 - 20 (End)
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~Part: 11~
The brown package looked benign enough, sitting there on the watcher's countertop. It was roughly the size and shape of an oversized book, the kind that people leave on their coffee tables, with colored pictures of beautiful and exotic places. Little did anyone know that the package held something that would change all of their lives forever.
"Spike, this was delivered for you earlier today," Giles said, handing the package to a rather bleary-eyed vampire. His fight with Willow that morning had left him restless and angry, making sleep impossible to capture. By mid-afternoon he had given up all pretense of sleeping and had decided to go online and see what he could find out about this Marco and the ritual he had mentioned.
The only results of his search had been a headache and a sore back, reminding him once again that he needed to get either a new computer chair, or perhaps one of those fancy laptop computers he had been noticing more and more often. What Spike had found was that there were literally hundreds of spells that needed to be fueled by the power of a witch. Without knowing Marco's ultimate goal, it was impossible to figure out which spell was the right spell. Finally he decided that he was merely wasting time, and put the computer away to think about what he would do once he received the text of the spell from the other vampire.
"Thanks mate," Spike said, turning the packet over in his hands. He knew exactly what it was and who it was from, but even now he was having second thoughts about what opening it would lead to. A part of him wanted to throw it straight into the trash and forget he had ever met Marco. But there was a stronger part of him that hoped that by opening the packet and accepting what was within, he would change his life for the better.
That was the part that was in control when he returned to his rooms, opened the brown packet, and read the text to the ritual that Marco was going to attempt to perform.
~~~*~~~
Willow had cried for so long now that she had no tears left to cry. Her confrontation with Spike had left her feeling emotionally drained and vulnerable. The anger that had fueled her flight from his apartment had died quickly, and by the time she had returned home, she was tired and miserable. Once she was safely in her room, her haven, she had collapsed onto the bed, curled up, and cried her eyes out.
She tried her best to refute his cruel words and accusations. Just because she didn't want a relationship with him, it didn't mean that she didn't want a relationship with anybody else, after all. So maybe it had been a bit of a dry spell dating-wise since Oz had left her...that didn't mean that she wasn't interested or that she was hiding. It just meant that she was being careful; taking things slowly.
Didn't it?
"Aaaarrrghh!!!" she yelled out loud, furious that Spike and his accusations had her second-guessing her actions and the motivations behind them. And he had made her cry too, damnit.
~~~*~~~
Marco waved to Spike across the bar swimming with demons, motioning for him to make his way to the dark vampire's side. "So?" he asked casually, as the blond pulled up a chair and sat down next to him. "Did you have a chance to look over the text of the ritual? I assume that's why we're here," he added curiously.
Spike nodded noncommittally, his eyes sweeping the bar, looking for anyone who might be trying to listen to them. Wouldn't do to get caught now, he decided. Not seeing anyone paying them an unusual amount of attention, Spike turned back to face Marco. "Took a look at it. Had another bloke do the same. Seems on the up-and-up," he admitted.
A slow lazy smile crossed Marco's lips, and he licked the lower one slowly, sensually, all the while eyeing the vampire next to him. "Do we have a deal?" he asked, although he already knew the answer. The question was a mere formality. And Marco was all about the formalities.
Uneasiness clouded Spike's eyes momentarily, but the moment passed and so did his concern. He looked into the dark blue eyes of the demon next to him and asked one final question. "The witch is mine, afterwards?"
"You have my word on it," Marco agreed, a wide grin splitting his face. A matching grin could be seen on Spike's face as well, but the merriment on neither face was reflected in the eyes.
"Very well then, you've got yourself a partner," Spike said, twisting around to get Willie's attention. "Drink on it?"
"By all means," Marco agreed, ordering two whiskeys from the nervous bartender. 'Partner' wasn't really the word he would use to describe their alliance, but he knew better than to rock the boat at such an important moment.
"So what's the timeline on this plan?" Spike asked curiously.
"Ahh," Marco sighed, leaning back comfortably in his chair. "Time, such a precious thing," he said, casting his eyes around the bar until they again settled on Spike. "The ritual must be done during a full moon, of course. This Sunday would be the ideal time. Would you be ready by then?"
The blond shifted in his chair, trying to become more comfortable. He felt a stab of uneasiness, which he quickly pushed down. "What exactly are you going to need me to do?"
"It's quite simple, actually. You will bring your witch to a small house just outside of town. Make up an excuse of some sort," he added casually. "Once she is inside, there is a specific room to which you must take her. It is protected by a spell called 'The Quiet Room.' That's not the true name, of course, but merely a loose translation."
Marco fell silent for a moment as Willie placed their drinks in front of them and then quickly scurried away. The dark vampire held his glass to his face, examining the amber liquid within it. Apparently the whiskey passed some sort of test, for Marco drank it down in one quick gulp, banging the shot glass back down onto the table with a sharp clink. He smiled happily as the liquid burned its way down his throat. "Not bad," he murmured.
"Once inside this room," he continued, warming to his topic, "She will be completely unable to call upon her magical abilities. In short, no type of magic whatsoever will work in this room. She will be completely powerless."
The vampire watched Spike's face for any flicker of emotion, but saw nothing. Satisfied that the blond was not unduly disturbed by his words, he unveiled a bit more of his plan. "I will be elsewhere, performing the ritual. You will entertain her however you wish, until the point at which I require her-energies. I will make sure that the room is furnished with a bed, at the very least," he added, giving his companion a knowing grin.
Spike ignored the grin, his face set into an emotionless mask. He merely nodded his approval and waited for the other vampire to continue.
"You have no doubt deciphered the text of the ritual and understand what I am trying to do. I am attempting to gain favor with Phanes, the ancient Greek god of life, in the hope that he will grant me true immortality. If I am successful, I will be absolutely unstoppable, not by sun or decapitation or holy water. Simply put, I cannot die."
"However, towards the end of the ritual, Phanes will require the sacrifice of raw magical power, which is of course where your witch comes in. When I am ready, you will bind her feet and ankles, and of course cover her mouth so that she cannot chant or work any spells. She will be taken to the altar, where her power will be sacrificed. After the energy is transferred, she will be unconscious for some time."
"Some time?" Spike interjected, an uneasy frown forming on his face. "Care to be a bit more specific, mate?"
Marco's lips curved into a cold smile. "Not to worry, it will not be long. Twelve to fifteen hours, twenty at the most. She will be safe. In the meantime," he added with a smile, "I have a doctor who is just dying to rid you of that pesky piece of plastic you have up here." He moved a long finger to tap lightly on his own head, just in case Spike wasn't absolutely clear on which piece of plastic he was talking about.
Spike watched as the other vampire leaned back in his chair, satisfaction pouring out of him from every pore. "There is one thing you didn't mention though," he said slyly. He smirked as Marco gave him a quizzical look, leaning forward slightly, elbows on the table. "This here's a one-time thing, isn't it? One shot at the big-time, and if it fails, you're out of luck."
"Ahh, I should have known that you would have an expert look at this," Marco said, smiling that cold smile again. "You are correct, of course. Phanes can only be summoned once in a millennium, and if the ritual is not completed once it is started, or if it is done improperly, or without a suitable sacrifice, then I will be, what is it the Americans say? Oh yes, I will be 'shit out of luck.' A crude saying," he mused, "Yet oddly appropriate."
Marco shook himself from his thoughts. "That is why it is extremely important that everything go according to plan on Sunday. Do you foresee any problems on your end?"
Spike hesitated for the briefest of seconds, wondering what kind of excuse he could come up with that would fool the redhead into taking a trip out of town in the dead of night. Bugger all, he'd think of something. "No, I think I can deliver."
~Part: 12~
Willow was jolted out of her studies by the loud and unexpected ringing of the phone. "I'm never going to finish this stupid book," she muttered aloud, as she reached over to pick up her cordless phone.
"Hello?" she answered, swearing to herself that if this was some stupid telemarketer, she was going to hang up on them without even being polite. She knew that was uncharacteristic behavior on her part, but she really needed to get that book finished, or she would fail her test tomorrow for sure. And just where *had* the weekend gone, she wondered. Here it was Sunday and she felt like the time off had just melted away.
"Willow?" The sound of Spike's voice on the other side of the call surprised Willow. She had been actively avoiding him since their confrontation earlier in the week, and now she cursed herself and the telephone gods for making her answer this call.
"Spike," she said coolly, hoping he would get the message and leave her alone. Her eyes swept the room idly, trying to convince her mind to think about anything except what the sound of his voice was doing to her. Why did he always have to sound so damn sexy?
"Pet, I need your help."
Willow could sense some urgency in Spike's voice, and realized that this might not simply be a social call. "Why? I-I have a test tomorrow. If you need something, couldn't it wait until tomorrow night?"
"No, we need you here now." Again that note of urgency in his voice, which was beginning to concern her. She tried to fight it, but curiosity got the better of her.
"We? Who is we? And where is here?"
A brief silence followed as he tried to untangle her sentence. "Buffy and I need you."
He was with Buffy? That changed things - lent some legitimacy to his request.
"You're with Buffy?"
"I just bleedin' said so, didn't I?" he shot back, irritation joining the urgency in his voice. She could imagine him, wherever he was, gesticulating as he talked into the phone, his eyes narrowed and annoyed.
"Okay Spike, what's going on? What do you need me to do?" Willow's natural instinct was to be the peacemaker, so she talked slowly and softly, hoping to calm the vampire.
"Well, the slayer was getting this vibe while we were patrolling. We were in front of this house just outside of town. Said it 'made her spidey sense feel all ooky.'"
Willow smiled at his description of the Buffy-speak. If she was using her Buffy-to-English dictionary correctly, that phrase meant something was setting off alarm bells in the slayer's head.
"Why do you need me?"
"Slayer said it might be something magical, and she didn't want to go in blind, not knowin' what was going on in the house. She thought you might be able to get a bead on whatever it is that's inside."
It made sense, Willow supposed. If there *was* something evil going on there, she might be able to get a handle on it without actually entering the house. Unfortunately, it also meant that she'd have to leave now, and she glanced with regret at the book on the bed next to her. 'Later tonight, I promise,' she told the book, hoping that she wasn't making a promise she wouldn't be able to keep.
"Okay, I'll be there as quickly as I can. Where are you again?"
A brief silence followed, and then Spike was back. "I'm in a phone booth. Looks like I'm on the corner of Pacific and Meadow. You know, by the old abandoned church."
Saying something was down by the 'old abandoned church' was like saying it was 'on a street that started with the letter D.' The description was utterly useless. The only kind of church you could find in Sunnydale was an old abandoned one. The town was rotten with them. But Willow recognized the street names and thought she knew pretty much where they met, so she didn't press for details.
"I'm leaving now. I'll be there as quickly as I can."
~~~*~~~
She must have broken all types of speeding laws in order to get there as quickly as she did, but Spike made no mention of the fact. As the maroon sedan, borrowed from her ever-absent parents, made its way into the dark, empty parking lot, he smiled. Time to get this show on the road.
Willow spied the shock of bright hair before she saw the rest of Spike, appearing before her just like the Cheshire cat, but in reverse. He looked tense she thought, as she unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door. Whatever was going on, it must be serious.
"Thought you'd never get here," he groused, apparently still in a bit of a temper.
"Well I'm here now," she shot back, no longer interested in pampering him, or catering to his mood. "Where's Buffy?"
"Dunno," Spike admitted gruffly. He made a show of searching the shadows for the slayer's bright blonde hair. "She was over there when I made the phone call," he motioned to a spot on the other side of the street and down a couple of houses, "But I turned away for a minute, and when I turned back, she was gone."
Willow thought about that for a moment, wondering how they could find Buffy without making themselves too obvious to any nasties that might be around. She decided that their best bet would probably be to check out the house.
"Which house is it, Spike? The one that was giving her the bad vibes?"
Her eyes followed his arm, as he pointed at a small two-story house that sat back a bit from the road. Dark shadows wreathed the front yard, and no light shone from within. "It's all dark. Nobody home?"
He stared back up at the house, "Could be. Or the windows could be blacked out. Hard to say."
A soft sigh left her lips, and she gave the forbidding house one last look before turning back to her companion. "Let's get a little closer. Maybe that will help."
"Sure pet, whatever you say."
They walked the short distance in silence, neither one willing to voice the thoughts that were in their head. They came to a stop in front of the house, and hid behind some of the bushes in the front yard. Willow peered anxiously across the yard to the front door, looking for any sign of what was going on within. The weird thing was, she wasn't getting any kind of mystical vibe off the place at all. Whatever Buffy had felt, it certainly wasn't calling to her.
She took a look at the vampire beside her and just had to ask. "Are you sure this is the house? I mean, it's dark, and they all kind of look pretty similar."
He shot her a sharp look, and an even sharper reply. "Demon sight, damnit. I can see a hell of a lot more clearly right now than you can."
Willow frowned at his response, and then concentrated hard on the house again, but there really wasn't anything there. Not even a glimmer. "So do you think Buffy went inside?"
"That's my bet," Spike confirmed. "My senses are still screaming SLAYER in big bright red letters, so she's got to be somewhere close-by."
"What should we do? Should we go in, or call for reinforcements, or --"
"No, no time to wait for reinforcements. We've waited too long already," he said, a certain amount of tension in his voice. "Tell you what. You wait here and I'll do a quick walk around the house, see if anyone is standing guard or whatnot. Maybe there's a back way in that won't be so obvious."
The idea made sense, although the thought of standing out here alone was more than a little frightening. But she knew that Spike was just a scream away, should she encounter trouble. Besides, he would move faster and quieter on his own, so there was no point in her asking to accompany him.
She nodded her agreement, shivering slightly as she watched him fade into the shadows. Then she was alone. Alone, except for the noises around her. Crickets chirped, frogs croaked, wind whistled through the trees, and far off in the distance, the sound of a train whistle blew.
And then there were the unexplainable sounds. The 'thwack, thwack' that she heard every so often that seemed to come from everywhere at once. The soft moaning that didn't seem at all natural. But what bothered her the most was the rustling sound beside her that seemed to stop every time she sought it out.
Her mind began to spin with worry. Where was Spike? It had been too long now. It felt like it had been at least ten minutes, although a quick check at her watch assured her that only two or three minutes had passed. But still, where was he? And what if he didn't come back? What would she do? Would she have to find her own way into the house, or call Xander and Giles and have them come out, or ...
A stealthy, cold hand snaked across her face, covering her mouth completely and stifling the scream that was trying to tear its way out of her throat. As she began to struggle desperately, an arm surrounded her middle, pulling her back against a lean, cool body. She continued to struggle as much as she could, but was sure that at any moment she would feel the sharp sting of fangs piercing the soft skin of her neck.
~Part: 13~
A stealthy, cold hand snaked across her face, covering her mouth completely and stifling the scream that was trying to tear its way out of her throat. As she began to struggle, an arm surrounded her middle, pulling her back against a lean, cool body. She continued to struggle as much as she could, but was sure that at any moment she would feel the sharp sting of fangs piercing the soft skin of her neck.
"Stop it," hissed an angry voice with a sharp British accent. "With all the bloody noise you're making, thrashing about like that, you're sure to alert the entire neighborhood to our presence here."
It was Spike, she realized with relief, as she let her body relax and become limp in his arms. Thank god, she sighed, although she figured that god had very little to do with the vampire behind her.
His hand fell away from her mouth, and the other hand relaxed his hold on her mid-section. She turned quickly, ready to give the blond a piece of her mind. He had scared the crap out of her, and she was reasonably sure he had mostly done it for fun.
"Quiet, witch," he muttered. "Do you want to hear what I found or not?"
Willow nodded silently, although her eyes still shot green sparks at him.
"Okay then," he said, slightly mollified. "I didn't see anyone, although I did find a window and got a good look at the interior. Still think the slayer went inside, but the only way I'm gonna know for sure is if I go in after her."
"We," Willow objected. "We go in after her. You're not leaving me alone out here, not again."
Spike smiled, amazed at just how easy it was to play her. "Fine," he conceded, allowing a trace of false regret to be heard in his voice, "Let's go then, shall we? Before the sun comes up and all," added sarcastically.
Walking cautiously to the door, he hoped that Marco was true to his word and that he had kept the other vampires and minions in the basement, where the ritual was to be performed. If Willow saw them wandering about now, it would be a hell of a lot more difficult to get her into that 'Quiet Room.'
He almost breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that nobody was about, then slipped in the door and took a step or two into the hallway. Looking back, he watched Willow peer through the doorway, then she moved fully into the house, closing he door silently behind her. Her eager eyes scanned the room, probably looking for signs of Buffy's presence. Well, she'd have to look pretty darned hard to find something, he thought.
The downstairs was quiet, and the two of them moved silently from room to room, quick glances into each room revealing nothing of note. Spike had had a bad moment in one of the bathrooms, when Willow spied something that had looked like one of Buffy's scarves. But upon further examination, it had turned out to be a slightly different color. Finding the slayer actually in the house would have been a real kink in the vampire's plans, so he stifled a sigh of relief when the redhead regretfully informed him that it was not Buffy's scarf after all.
Soon they were back in the foyer again, having made the rounds of the downstairs without finding any sign of Buffy. "Guess we go upstairs," he said, following closely behind Willow as she ascended the steps. The room that was their ultimate destination was directly across from the stairway, and would logically be the first room they would search. His body became tense as they neared the door, his hands clutching the key in his pocket that would lock he and Willow into the room until they were needed.
Willow opened the door, peering around the corner and into the room. It was an ordinary room, with a large window on the opposite wall that looked out onto the houses across the street. Sparse furnishings dotted the room: an old, battered desk, a large four-poster bed, and a small bedside table that sat next to the door. Other than those few pieces of furniture, the room was devoid of anything that could be seen as remotely personal. Obviously this room was not inhabited at all.
Nothing caught her eye directly, until she noticed what looked like a spot of blood that showed on the white of the bedspread. Willow moved towards it quickly, stifling her anxiety at the thought that she might be looking at Buffy's blood. But when she touched it, she realized that the blood was not fresh, and therefore could not be Buffy's. She turned quickly, bumping into Spike who was standing close behind her, blocking her way and keeping her from the door. The look on his face was guarded, and suddenly she felt a wave of uneasiness pass through her. She shivered slightly, without knowing exactly why.
This is silly, she told herself. It's Spike. Since when am I afraid of Spike?
"C'mon Spike, let's go," she whispered quietly, trying to move towards the door. She noticed then that the door was closed, and that Spike was not moving out of her way. Suddenly her brain, which had apparently been on hiatus for the last hour, decided to kick in and tell her that something was seriously wrong here. "What is going on?" she asked him softly, hoping that he could give her an answer that wouldn't scare the shit out of her.
He moved out of her way then, stepping further into the heart of room, his face an impassive mask. He turned to watch her, nodding knowingly as she moved to the door and attempted to open it. But instead of opening easily and leading her back into the hall, the handle would not turn, and he watched as knowledge and horror dawned on her face and she realized that she was a prisoner.
She turned back to look at him, her lips moving and trying to form the questions that her mind was feeding her. As she watched him, she saw him dangle a key from his fingertips, before he swiftly shoved it back into the front pocket of his jeans. Apparently she was to be his prisoner.
"Why?" It was the only thing she could manage, the fear, betrayal and hurt all too much for her mind to handle. So she moved away from the emotional questions, and tried to focus on the most important one.
"Why what?"
"Why are you doing this? You lured me here, didn't you? Was Buffy ever here? This was never about her at all, was it? It was about us?"
"Because I want to, yes I did, no she wasn't, no it wasn't, and sort of," he answered her, watching with amusement as she tried to remember exactly what questions she had asked, and in what order she had asked them.
"What's the point, Spike?" she asked sadly, her fear beginning to dissipate as she sensed that he didn't plan to hurt her, at least not immediately. "You must know that kidnapping me is not going to convince me to give our relationship a chance."
"Maybe that's not entirely what this is about, pet," he told her, motioning for her to sit down on the bed.
She moved slowly, sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed. The bloodstain on the bedspread seemed to mock her, and she wondered again how she could have been so trusting and naive. Her hands gripped the covers and she stood, pulling the offending piece of bedding until it sat pooled on the floor. Satisfied, she sat down again, this time on soft satin sheets, her angry but still inquisitive eyes looking up to meet Spike's, as if to say, 'Get it over with.'
The vampire sat down next to her, flinching slightly as she quickly moved away from him. He remembered a time not so long ago when they had been friends and had been comfortable with each other, and a small part of him felt regret for what he was doing. But he had a plan, and he was bloody well going to stick with it, so he simply pushed his emotions aside.
"What's it all about, you ask? Well, it's about this bloody chip..."
~Part: 14~
"What do you mean, this is all about the chip? What does kidnapping me and keeping me here have to do with your chip?" Willow asked, confusion momentarily taking precedence over her fear and anger.
Spike looked at her calmly, watching the emotions play across her face. This wasn't going to be fun, he knew. In fact, she might never forgive him for this. But it was necessary, so once again he tamped down his emotions and looked her in the eye. He almost lost his will entirely when he saw the betrayal in those shining orbs, but he thought of all of the things that would happen in the next couple of hours and somehow found the ability to speak.
"Remember Marco, that vampire that had you and the moron kidnapped?" He watched her nod uneasily, then continued, "Well, he needs a witch." Before she could protest, he added quickly, "There's a ritual he's performing. Kind of like when I had that Gem of Amara. He performs this ritual, and he's invincible." He thought back fondly to his brief time with the Gem. The caress of sunlight on his face again after all those years of darkness and shadows, had been unbelievable. In a very real way he envied Marco, and all that the vampire hoped to gain from this ritual. If only he could...but no, there was no point in going there.
He watched as the witch's face grew stormy, her expression angry and betrayed. "So you thought that you would just deliver me to him and let him drain me? How the hell could you do that to me, Spike? I trusted you! I was your friend. And you just threw that away, and for what? Just so some other vampire can have what you couldn't keep?"
The reference to his losing the Gem stung, but he kept his emotions under control. His clenched jaw and hard eyes were the only visible cues to his anger. "He's promised to remove my chip," he said finally, grinding the words out between clenched teeth.
Understanding dawned in her eyes, and sadness filled her heart. He would do it, she knew. He would turn her over to Marco so that he could get his chip removed. She had been right all along; he had never felt anything for her at all. Tears flooded her eyes and spilled down her pale cheeks as the truth hit home. But which hurt worse? The fact that he would betray her like this, or that he had never seen her as anything more than convenient way to pass the time?
"Willow," he said softly, reaching over to cup her chin with his hand. She jerked away from him as if the touch had burned her, then stood and moved to the center of the room. Her eyes were wild with fear and pain as she trained them on him, and her mouth began to form silent words as her hands moved slowly around her body.
Her motions stopped suddenly, and she stalked towards him, her face dark and angry. "What the hell did you do to me?" she asked, the words merely a whisper. "I can't feel my magic anymore." Tears began to fall again, and Spike watched with regret as the young redhead turned away from him, moving to sit on the floor at the other end of the room, her eyes trained on her feet. "I can't feel my magic," she said again forlornly, burying her face in her hands and crying bitterly.
Spike got up and moved to sit down beside her, putting a comforting arm around her shoulders. She shied away from him, but he pulled her closer, his arm a vise around her shoulder. "It's the room, luv," he said softly, trying to relieve her fears. "Some spell Marco worked up, to keep you from getting out. Your magic is still there, you just can't feel it at the moment."
He could tell that she was scared, could smell her intoxicating fear, but being the girl she was, she wanted to know the worst. "What's going to happen, Spike? Is he going to-to kill me?"
Spike fought to keep his demon in check at the thought of anyone hurting this delicate creature next to him. Well, anyone besides him, at least. He moved the hand from her shoulders to her hair, running his long fingers though it in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. It had always worked well with Dru, so he hoped it would work well here too.
"I'd never let him hurt you," he vowed, trying to convince her of his sincerity. "He just needs to borrow a bit of your power, that's all. For the ritual."
Willow looked at him uncertainly, as if unsure she would ever be able to trust him again. "I promise, pet. Just a little nibble, that's all. Trust me."
The last two words were a mistake, and he knew it the minute they left his mouth. She had been starting to relax into his touch, letting his softly spoken words reassure her, but the minute he asked her to trust him, all hell broke loose.
"Trust you? TRUST YOU?" she yelled, jumping to her feet. "Trusting you is what got me into this nightmare," she said bitterly, spitting the words at him from her new perch on the other side of the room.
He rose slowly to his feet, doing his best to reign in his impatience. He was doing all of this for her, whether she realized it or not. He could have just let Marco and his minions pick her up somewhere, scaring her to death and hurting her in the process. But no, he had been the good guy, tried to play it nice and easy with her, and what had been the result?
Standing in front of her, the back of her legs flush against the nightstand, he tried again to reason with her. "Willow, by tomorrow this will all be over. Believe me; trust me, even though every cell in your body is telling you not to. I promise I won't let anything happen to you."
"I want to believe you," she said softly, her eyes cast down. "I really--what's that?" she asked, surprised, her eyes riveted to a spot on the floor.
Spike looked down for a moment, his eyes searching out whatever it was that had caught her attention. When his head was bent down, Willow grabbed the ceramic lamp on the table behind her, bringing it down hard on his head, using all of the strength in her small body. The base of the lamp was heavy, and did not break when it made contact with the vampire's head, but Spike sank to the floor instantly, his body still.
Willow looked down at the blond uncertainly. She hadn't expected him to go down so easily, so she hit him again with the lamp, just in case he was faking it. Still he remained silent, so she quickly considered her options.
The key to the door was in his pants pocket, she remembered, but she was afraid to get that close to him. What if he woke up? Besides, was she really brave enough to stick her hands in his pocket? Probably not.
There was still the window, and it beckoned to her. She moved swiftly towards it, throwing it open quickly and looking out and down. The window faced the street, and she wished fervently for someone to come by, but nobody did. Her only option then was to climb outside and stand on the thin ledge below. She was sure that the ledge would eventually lead her to a stairway or some other way down to the ground, but it might not be an easy climb.
Every minute she wasted in here trying to decide what to do brought her a minute closer to Spike eventual awakening. Throwing one last look around the room, she decided to chance the window. She might fall to her death, but at least Marco wouldn't get her energy. Maybe Buffy would be able to find him before he could take another witch and finish his ritual.
Whispering a silent prayer to her Goddess, she crossed a leg over the threshold, sighing with relief as it found the small ledge below the window. She was in the process of bringing her other leg outside when it was grasped from behind by a strong hand.
Her head whipped back, and her eyes locked with those of a rather angry blond vampire. A strong yank brought the rest of her body back inside the room, but her momentum threw her at Spike and they both fell down onto the floor.
She landed on top of him, a situation that he immediately rectified. With lightning-quick reflexes that only a vampire could lay claim to, he reversed their positions and straddled her hips, looking down at her with cold angry eyes.
~Part: 15~
'I can't believe she hit me!' Spike thought in amazement as he lay down where he had fallen. 'She bloody well hit me. Didn't think the little chit had it in her.'
Another sharp crack on the head proved to him that she did, indeed, have it in her. He stayed still, eyes closed, hoping that she would believe his 'playing dead' act. Truth be told, he was curious to see what she would do next.
When she made no move to turn him over and try to get the key out of his pocket, he was rather surprised. Then he remembered the window. The bloody window. Silly girl would fall to her death if she wasn't careful. He had to do something about that or all his plans would turn to shit. Why the hell did she have to be so stubborn anyway?
He began to move slowly, peeking over the bed to look at the redhead, her body framed by the window. When her head turned and her eyes made one last sweep around the room, she nearly caught him, but he ducked back down behind the bed. She seemed to have decided something, and the next thing Spike knew, she had one foot out the window and was straddling the windowsill.
'Silly stupid stubborn bloody bint,' he raged, his anger building quickly, making his body tense and his mind uneasy. With a speed not possible of a mere mortal, he raced to the window, grabbing her leg at the calf and pulling her back inside the window. She careened into him, and they both ended up on the floor, her on top of him.
'Now this won't do at all,' he thought, and his anger boiled over until he was sure she could see it in his eyes. He flipped her easily, and suddenly he was the one on top of her, straddling her hips and looking down into terrified green eyes. The scent of her fear was overpowering in the small room; even the open window couldn't dispel the intoxicating aroma.
"You stupid, stupid girl," he growled the words as he stared down into her eyes. "You could have been killed! What the BLOODY HELL were you thinking?"
Her eyes began to fill with tears and her chin started to quiver, but she refused to back down. "I'd rather be dead than go through with what you've got planned!" she screamed at him, as she began to writhe beneath him in an attempt to dislodge his body. Fear and anger gave her unexpected power, but it was no match for his vampire-enhanced strength.
"Damn you, let me go!"
"No! I've gone to too much trouble to get you here, just to let you go again."
"I hate you." Instead of screaming at him, her voice had dropped low, and as she said the words, she spit at him.
The globule of spit hit Spike on the cheek, and his last shred of self-control snapped. His cold blue eyes shimmered with flecks of yellow. He raised his hand, intending to strike the impudent human who dared to treat him like that. The demon whispered words of encouragement to him: he was a vampire, and a master at that. She should be bowing down before him in terror. Her willfulness must be subdued, and her disobedience punished swiftly. 'Hurt her, fuck her, drain her,' it chanted over and over again.
Spike fought the demon back, using every bit of strength he had, and finally his hand dropping uselessly back to his side. His face was blank, his eyes colder than ice, but he managed to stare down at his captive without showing a trace of his anger, other than a tightly clenched jaw.
"Do that again and I *will* kill you," he gritted out, his expression assuring her that he meant every word he said.
The look in her eyes was still rebellious, but fear stilled her movements and made her silent for the moment. Perhaps some small part of her had realized just how close she had come to dying in that moment, and was trying to back off just a bit.
The sound of a key scraping in the lock caught Spike's attention, and he turned his head towards the door. The door opened, and a minion stood there, holding rope and a roll of duct tape.
"Marco is ready for the witch," the demon said, eyes flickering curiously over the man and the redhead. From the way he licked his lips hungrily, he obviously thought that she looked good enough to eat. "Do you want help securing her?" he asked hopefully. He walked towards Spike, placing the items on the floor next to the blond.
Spike growled low in his chest for his reply, and the minion quickly scurried out of the room. "Knock when you are ready Master, and I will let you out," he said quickly, closing the door behind him.
He grabbed the rope, testing its strength with his strong hands. When he was sure that it would secure the redhead without any problems, he looked down at her, once again enjoying the fear in her eyes.
"Please don't do this Spike," she begged, her eyes wide and frightened. The green orbs called to him, making him wish for a moment that he could be honest with her and tell her everything. But he needed her like this, frightened, hurt and angry, so he merely looked back down at her and grabbed one of her hands, his long fingers curling tightly around her slender wrist.
"Don't make this any more difficult than it has to be, Willow," he replied softly, hoping she didn't hear the pleading note in his voice. He reached for her other hand, and was sad, but not surprised, when she fought him tooth and nail. It wasn't easy, but finally he managed to bring both her hands together and tie them tightly in front of her.
"Spike," she whispered sadly as he picked up the duct tape and cut off a small piece. Even then she refused to admit defeat, twisting her head first one direction and then the other, trying to evade the tape that he was finally able to place directly over her mouth. Just in case, he placed a second, longer strip on top of the first one, and then looked down to survey his handiwork.
Sad, frightened pools of emerald liquid stared up at him, trying to tell him that it still wasn't too late to change his mind, but he hardened his heart, moving off of her body and dragging her to her feet. "C'mon, Will, time to meet your destiny," he said quietly as he made his way to the door, dragging her body behind him. He knocked twice and waited for the minion on the other side of he door to open it.
The demon opened the door, smiling evilly when his eyes fell on the small woman being pulled across the threshold by the vampire. A loud growl from the blond was enough to make the minion back off, hurriedly heading down the stairs to the first floor.
Willow continued to fight him, dragging her feet every inch of the way, and Spike could feel the eyes of the minion upon him as he struggled with her. Feeling the need to assert his dominance over her, he stopped suddenly, turning to face the woman behind him.
A cold hand, hard as steel, grasped her chin, using it to pull her forehead flush against his own. "Continue to fight me like this, and I will rope your legs together as well and throw you over my shoulder. Would you prefer that?" he snarled, watching her flinch as his words hit home. "Will you behave now?" he asked her, his tone cold and unforgiving. He tightened his grip on her chin, using it to move her head up and down in a parody of a nod.
"That's more like it," he said, giving a cold grin to the other vampire, and continuing down the stairs, the witch trailing dispiritedly behind him. She might be docile for the moment, but he suspected that she was just biding her time, waiting for an opportunity to escape.
They continued their walk in silence, each stuck deep in their own thoughts.
As they reached the last flight of stairs, the one that would take them into the basement, he could feel Willow tense against him. "It'll be all right, pet," he whispered softly into her ear, his hands sliding up and down over her arms in an attempt to calm her.
Unfortunately, he suspected that as far as she was concerned, things would never be all right again.
~Part: 16~
Willow cast frantic eyes over the room she found herself in, desperately looking for some means of escape. The basement, well, really it was more like an unfinished cave, was slightly bigger than a large classroom. In the middle of the room was a huge stone-cut altar covered with books, bottled potions and various other magical paraphernalia. Some of the potions and ingredients looked vaguely familiar, but Willow chose not to dwell on their meaning at the moment, too intent on her own thoughts of escape.
Around the edges of the cave, bathed in shadows, a dozen demons stood watch over their master Marco, their eyes glued to his form in the middle of their loose circle. He stood tall, his dark hair brushing the top of his shirt collar has his head swiveled around to taken in their entrance.
Willow could hear Marco chanting in an unfamiliar foreign tongue, his voice even and low. His eyes met hers briefly, and an anticipatory smile lifted the corners of his mouth, before he turned back around and continued his chanting, never hesitating in his words for a moment.
Her eyes flicked over to Spike who was watching her intently, his expression unreadable, as always.
'If I get out of this alive, I am *so* going to let Buffy stake you,' she thought bitterly, as her eyes shot daggers into his. He had betrayed her in the worst possible way, and all so that he could get his chip removed. Now she knew exactly how little he cared about her, the evidence obvious in every inch of rope around her wrists; every piece of tape over her mouth. Now, however, it was just a little too late.
The chanting became louder, Marco's voice rising and reverberating around the room, and Willow felt a shiver of terror run down her spine. Regardless of what Spike had told her, she had a feeling that there was more to her part in this ritual than what he claimed. She suspected that the dark haired vampire needed more from her than merely a 'nibble' of her power. Considering all the lies Spike had told her lately, she would be very stupid to believe anything he told her now. And while she might still be naive, she was trying hard not to be stupid.
A quick movement from behind her, merely a flash of something entering and leaving the corner of her eye, made her turn her head slightly, and what she saw both made her heart sing with joy, and cringe in terror. For there, making her way stealthily down the stairs was Buffy.
Willow's eyes opened wide as she saw her friend move quickly and silently down the stairs. In mere seconds she was invisible, moving slowly and carefully through the shadows on the edges of the room. As excited as she was to see Buffy, she was concerned that the odds were definitely not in the Slayer's favor. Twelve vampires against one Slayer; it could have been worse, but it sure could be a lot better.
She considering her options, trying hard to come up with some way that she might be able to help her rescuer improve the odds against her, but could come up with nothing. Still, the redhead watched with growing admiration as Buffy moved behind the nearest vampire and struck with Mister Pointy, her aim sure and deadly. Now all that remained of the vampire was a small pile of dust, swirling in circles on the floor. Willow smiled happily beneath the layers of duct tape.
The other vampires hadn't noticed the decrease in their ranks, and as she forced her eyes to wander guilelessly around the room, Willow looked for any sign that the other demons had seen anything amiss. Fortunately, they were all so focused on Marco that Buffy's actions were going completely unnoticed.
Another swing of her stake, and another vampire fell to dust. Willow looked on in happy relief as one minion after another fell silent beneath the stealthy onslaught of Mister Pointy. Now only seven vampires remained; however, with each of the enemies that fell, the chances became greater that Buffy would be noticed. The young witch said a silent prayer to whomever might be watching over her that they would all get out of this alive. Or at least, she amended, those of them that were actually alive to start with.
Willow noticed another movement from the top of the stairs, and nearly jumped with glee when the door opened to reveal Giles, Xander and a rather loose-skinned demon who looked vaguely familiar. She tried to place his face, but couldn't come up with anything solid. Her best guess was that he might have been a member of the rescue party from that night when she and Xander had been kidnapped. Xander waved at her, a small gesture but comforting none-the-less, and she tried to smile back at him, although the duct tape over her mouth made the gesture meaningless.
She thought back to that night they had been kidnapped; it had seemed so long ago, yet less than a month had passed since that fateful evening. Sometimes the path of your life could change in the course of a day, she acknowledged sadly. That one single event had really been the beginning of the end, as far as her friendship with Spike was concerned. Her mind worked furiously, finally thinking out the details that it had shied away from before. Marco must have come to Spike shortly after that night, promising to rid him of the chip if only the blond would procure him a witch. It was a deal that her 'friend' had struck gladly, from the sound of it, and Willow's thoughts turned dark and tortured again, as she snuck an angry glance at the vampire standing next to her.
Her eyes flew open, surprise and fear causing her to gasp softly beneath the impromptu gag, when she saw that Spike was watching Buffy dispatch yet another minion. But instead of raising the alarm, as she expected he would, he stayed still and silent, his eyes following the slayer as she methodically moved towards and dispatched her next target. When Spike caught her staring at him in shock, he grabbed her arm sharply, giving her a small shake. He looked down, and his pale blue eyes burned into hers. They seemed to be trying to calm her, imploring her to stay still and quiet. She didn't understand why, but she knew that it was in her best interest to do it anyway, so that was exactly what she did.
And then all hell proceeded to break lose.
Giles and Xander were quietly approaching one of the remaining five vampires, a short, stumpy looking creature with no hair and an unbelievably long nose. But before they were able to thrust their stakes into the vampire's heart, Giles managed to step heavily on Xander's foot. As Willow watched on in horror, the younger man did his best to stifle a soft cry of pain. When he proceeded to jump up and down on his good foot, however, it quickly became obvious to every one in the room that something was dreadfully wrong.
Giles uttered one loud word that managed to express the sentiments of each and every creature in the room: "Fuck!"
And then the fighting began. As Willow's eyes watched the action around her, she noticed two things. The first was that the loose-skinned demon the others had brought with them was actually a fairly skilled fighter. He fought hard against the first vampire he found, his extra skin slapping and flowing gracefully as he struck. He released a loud, high-pitched battle cry that seemed to stun his opponent momentarily. Her eyes left him after that, however, because she had little emotional stake in his life or death. Sure, she would be sorry if he died, especially since he was trying to save her, but there were years of friendship and trust between her and the three humans in the room, and naturally her thoughts and concerns centered mostly on them.
The second thing that she noticed was that, instead of trying to fight alongside the minions, Spike merely stood straight and tall beside her, his eyes impassive as he viewed the battle taking place around them. She wondered at this for a moment. He had worked so hard to lure her out here, and then to keep her prisoner inside that room. So why wasn't he helping the others? Even in her confused mind it just didn't make sense.
Her eyes were drawn back to Buffy, who was taking on two of the minions at once. She flowed and slid fluidly around them, her wiry body managing easily to move out of the way of their hastily thrown punches and sloppy kicks. Soon one, and then the other, were reduced to nothing more than dust bunnies swirling on the floor.
In sharp contrast, Giles and Xander were having a bit more trouble with their intended victim. Willow had to cringe several times as she watched the two men struggle with the large minion. It wasn't that he was a particularly good fighter; it was more that they were just so sadly inept. Oh, she loved them both for even trying to help in this crazy rescue, but the fact of the matter was that Giles was much better at research than he was at fighting. And Xander was much better at, well, whatever it was he did. Research? Donut boy? Delivery boy?
The Slayer, fresh from her recent success against the two vampires, cast a critical eye across the room and surveyed the battle. Xander, Giles and the other demon seemed to be holding their own against their opponents, but Marco was still standing at the altar, his lips moving frantically as he attempted to finish his ritual. With one final look to her friends, Buffy moved forward to take care of Sunnydale's newest Big Bad.
~Part: 17~
Willow watched in rapt fascination as Buffy approached the man who had attempted to cause such harm to herself and her friends. Only one of them would leave this room, and the way the Slayer moved made obvious her certainty that it would be her.
She glanced into the midnight-blue eyes of the dark-haired vampire before her, and it was equally obvious that Marco was positive that *he* was the one who would be leaving this room.
He pointed his hand negligently towards her, palm up, as if she was nothing more than an annoyance to him. The Slayer watched as a small ball of fire grew in his hand, blues and red flames licking across the surface. Horror filled her eyes as the ball grew bigger and bigger, until it was the size of a large grapefruit. Only then did Marco fling it casually towards her, his motions slow but certain, a demonic enjoyment flashing in his eyes.
Buffy moved quickly, but the ball was quicker. She barely managed to get out of the way in time. The edges of her shirt were singed, as was the hair on her arm. Now she was really going to be pissed, Willow thought. That had been one of her friend's favorite blouses, and one she had bought on sale, too. That was like ruining two blouses instead of one in Buffy's mind, Willow knew, and would make her that much more angry.
Both girls' eyes widened when the magical ball impacted on the wall behind where Buffy stood only moments before, burning a hole several feet deep into the pure stone. If it had hit human flesh instead of the wall, Buffy would have been dead, super healing powers or not. She looked towards the master vampire warily, not wishing to underestimate his abilities again.
Marco continued his chanting. His refusal to even acknowledge her as an opponent was probably driving Buffy insane, but the blonde maintained her calm, walking back towards the vampire with a new purpose to her steps.
Again the hand was flung out, and another fireball grew quickly in his palm. He wasted no time with this one, throwing it straight at Buffy, not even bothering to watch as the ball raced over the head of the girl as she quickly fell to the floor.
While the Slayer was otherwise occupied, Marco's cold eyes turned to Spike and the girl struggling beside him. Seeing those eyes turned to her, Willow took an involuntary step back, fear growing exponentially at the utterly evil darkness she saw in his orbs.
His gesture beckoned to Spike, ordering him to bring the witch closer. Willow thought that this must be the part of the ritual during which the vampire hoped to take a 'nibble' out of her. There was no way in hell she was going to let that happen, and she backed away from both vampires, her eyes wide with terror.
Spike followed her, step by step, his body only stopping when hers did, stopped by the wall of the cave behind her. Her eyes wide, she stared up at his face, shadows blending with light to make his features even sharper than usual. She tried to evade him, move around him, but his arms came up on either side of her shoulders, trapping her in front of him.
"Relax, Willow," he said softly, his hand leaving the cold stone of the wall to gently stroke her cheek. "I won't hurt you. I won't let him near you," he added seriously, hoping to dispel some of the panic on her face. Her heart was pumping a mile a minute, and he feared that if he couldn't calm her, she might harm herself.
The words were said quietly, but with his vampire hearing, Marco was able to discern them even from where he stood. "You fool," he yelled, his chanting stopped at last, his anger flowing off of him in waves. "I offered you everything, you ungrateful bastard. Your chip removed, the redhead at your side as your mate, riches beyond belief. And THIS is how you repay me?"
His ritual was ruined. When Spike and the witch had refused to come to him, he had broken the chant, and the chance was lost forever. Once started, the ritual could not be attempted again for another thousand years, and judging by the look in the Slayer's eyes, he would not be around to see the dawning of the next day, much less the next millennium. Another of the fireballs was suddenly in his hand, and he tossed it furiously at the focus of his anger.
Spike turned just in time to see the ball of fire come racing towards them. He heard Willow scream through her gag, her eyes trained on the object heading for them at breakneck speed, and pushed her down to the ground, falling down hard beside her.
A sudden crash made them look up, their eyes taking in the huge hole in the wall where they had been standing just a second before. They both realized in that moment just how quickly either of them could lose their life, for the fireball would have incinerated Spike just as surely as it would have killed Willow.
As Spike helped her to her feet, Willow's eyes roamed the room, seeking the positions and status of her friends. Xander, Giles and Clem seemed to be making quick work of the last remaining minion, and Buffy was once again battling Marco.
The vampire threw everything he had at the Slayer: fireballs, flying knives, even a dog brought forth from the pits of hell. But Buffy managed to defeat each of them. She was always one step ahead of the Master, and soon his magical reserves fell empty, and all he had to defend himself with were weak kicks and even weaker jabs.
Finally, just as the other three finished off the last demon, Buffy had Marco pinned against the wall. Mister Pointy flowed into her hand seamlessly, and she plunged the weapon deep into the vampire's heart, standing back with satisfaction as he exploded into an unusually large pile of dust.
The next thing Willow knew, she was surrounded by happy friends, crushed in their fevered embraces. Her overloaded senses tried to make sense of the babble that surrounded her.
"Dear girl, are you quite sure you're all right?"
"Hey Will, did ya see me dust that bad-ass vampire? Pretty cool, huh?"
"Hi Willow, nice to rescue you--er, see you, again. Oh, hey Spike."
The words and the hugs enveloped her, confusing the dazed, but grateful, young woman.
And then, the most confusing thing of all happened: "Thank you Spike," Buffy said, a grudging respect for the blond vampire showing in her eyes. "Thank you for keeping her safe for us."
"Safe? Safe?" Willow repeated the word bitterly, her eyes coming to rest on the vampire who stood stoically beside her. "He kidnapped me and nearly got me killed. Why are you thanking him?"
Buffy watched Spike flinch slightly at her angry words, then looked at the redhead and shook her head gently. "There was a lot more going on this evening than you know about, Willow," she said softly. "Spike may have kidnapped you, but he did it for your own good."
There was a look on Buffy's face that said clearly that she hated to say anything good about Spike, but she plowed right ahead anyway. "He did everything he did because he was trying to keep you safe. This whole thing with Marco was a trap. And you were the bait."
~Part: 18~
"What do you mean, 'I was the bait?' I'm not something you take fishing to catch a big mean nasty shark!" Willow was understandably confused, and only seconds away from tears, but instead of getting an answer, Buffy merely gave her a smile and put an arm around her, pulling her towards the stairway in hopes of getting her out of the dank basement and the memories it held.
"C'mon, Wills. We'll explain it all to you when we get back to the Magic Box, okay? It's kind of a long and complicated story, best told over a box of jelly donuts, right?" Xander, as always, stuck to the important things. He might not be the best fighter in the world, but he knew what a jelly donut could do to raise a girl's spirits. And Willow's spirits definitely seemed to be in need of a little raising right now. The boy wondered exactly what had gone on in that house while he and the others were arranging their rescue attempt. A feeling of unease touched him gently as he thought of all the things that could have gone wrong tonight.
"But--"
"Nope, no buts, not yet. Not gonna say a word!" Willow looked at Buffy and Xander, and stifled a slight smile as they both made a zipping motion over their lips. The twosome might not want to say a word, but Willow was anxious and curious and furious and a lot of other things, and once they got back to the Magic Box, she was going to find out quickly what was going on.
"Fine," she sulked, knowing how useless it would be to try to get either of them to talk. They both held their own versions of her resolve face, so she merely walked along beside them, giving a big sigh of relief once they were out of the house and standing on the street before it.
'I actually tried to climb out of that window,' Willow thought uneasily, her eyes focusing on the window of the room she had been kept prisoner in. She noticed the large breaks in the ledge she would have been walking on, and suppressed a shudder of horror when she realized that she probably would have died, if Spike had not pulled her back inside the house.
Her eyes searched for Spike, and found him standing a couple of feet away, his attention focused on the same spot of ledge as hers was. Sensing her gaze on him, he turned his head and met her eyes, his expression unreadable.
Damn it, what had his part in the plan been? Had he actually been working on the side of good, and not evil, as Buffy's words seemed to suggest? And why the hell wouldn't anyone TELL HER ANYTHING?!?
"C'mon guys, we're all parked over here," Xander said, pointing down the block to the parking lot where Willow's car still sat. It seemed so long ago that she had pulled up to this place in answer to Spike's desperate phone call. But it had all been a ruse, she reminded herself. Something he had tricked her with to lure her down her for--for some reason she still didn't understand.
Willow turned questioning eyes at Xander, as if surprised to see that he was still there. When he nodded encouragingly at her, she began to follow him, still obviously caught up in her own thoughts.
Three cars stood side by side in the parking lot. Her parents' car was there, flanked by Giles' musty old Citroen, which in turn was next to Xander's battered, rusty brown pickup.
"Hey guys, um, it's been fun, but I think I'll head over to a friend's place," Clem told them, shuffling his feet uneasily. He felt the tension in the air and was pretty much certain that whatever happened next, he didn't want to be there. He thought that the little redheaded girl was cute, and that she and his buddy might make a nifty pair, but he certainly didn't want to be there to witness the drama that led up to their getting together. That was for someone else to deal with.
"Um, thanks?" Willow asked uncertainly, approaching the goofy looping demon slowly. She was still trying to figure out who the good guys were in this game, but she was reasonably sure that the creature before her had been on the side of good.
Giving him a quick hug, she was surprised to hear him whisper softly in her ear. "Don't give Spike too much of a hard time. He did what he did because he cares for you." Then the demon released her and headed across the street, his almost comical gait bringing a brief smile to Willow's face.
"You're with me, Spike," Xander said, opening the car door and motioning Spike inside.
Willow was surprised to hear Xander call the vampire 'Spike' instead of one of his usual nicknames: Junior, Dead-Breath, Oh Impotent One, and so on. That was yet another clue that the relationships here were changing in ways that she still did not understand. She hoped that they could get back to the Magic Box quickly so that she could finally find out just what was going on.
"Then I guess I'm with you," Buffy stated hurriedly, opening the passenger door to Willow's car and quickly sitting down inside. "Please don't make me ride in Giles' car again, okay, Will? It's scary! The noises, the bumps, the things that move that aren't supposed to..." She shuddered delicately, convincing the redhead to take pity on her and drive her back to the Magic Box.
"So now that it's just us, will you please tell me what's going on?" Willow begged, as she pulled out of the parking lot and into traffic.
"Nope Willow. I promise, it'll be easier if we're all together. Less questions, no interruptions, everyone gets their say. It's better that way."
So the two friends sat in silence. Willow wasn't sure what else to say, since all of her thoughts were concentrated on the events of the evening, and Spike's part in the goings-on. She just couldn't figure it out. He would have done *anything* to get his chip removed. Why had he fought on their side this evening? Confusion and anger combined themselves with a big dash of helplessness and soon bubbled over. By the time they were all finally sitting comfortably around the large round table inside the closed store, she was ready to scream her questions at the lot of them.
"So," she asked, her voice tense with barely-controlled emotions, "Is anybody going to tell me WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON HERE?"
Their reactions were amusing, to say the least, and if she hadn't already been so upset, she probably would have enjoyed the havoc her words created. Xander had been so startled that he missed his mouth entirely, the donut he had been attempting to eat landing with a sticky splat on the table in front of him. He stared at it sadly, before grabbing another from the box and shoving it quickly into his mouth.
Giles had been so startled at her outburst that he actually took off his glasses and then forgot to polish them. Staring down at them in his hand, he eventually put them back on his head, giving Willow a slightly disapproving look.
Buffy giggled, which was even more annoying to Willow than anything. The young witch wanted nothing more than to reach out and wipe that smile right off of her laughing face. But now was not the time for that, she reminded herself. AFTER she had her explanations, she could do it though, she thought happily.
Spike merely looked at her, a shadow of a smile on his face. He enjoyed seeing her like this: her eyes flashing with anger, hands shaking, fury pouring off of her in intoxicating waves.
"Perhaps Spike should be the one to start this," Giles began uncertainly.
"Not my bloody show," Spike growled. He didn't want to be the one who told her what happened. It would sound too much like he was bragging. Somebody else would do it better. "Buffy, you tell her."
SOMEBODY," she yelled, watching their eyes grow big in surprise. This was Willow. The girl that rarely lost it. And yet she was almost out of control, and the novelty of that was rather startling. "Somebody please tell me," she begged softly.
Giles finally took pity on her and began the tale. "Well it all started a couple of days ago, when Marco approached Spike. He confirmed that he had taken you and Xander as prisoners in order to lure the Slayer into his clutches. Seems he needed some mystical energy for a ritual he was working on."
"What kind of ritual was it?" Willow interrupted curiously. "I mean, some of the stuff there looked familiar, but I couldn't tell what he was doing with it all, and the language didn't sound familiar."
"It was an invulnerability spell, pet. Something that would have made him impervious to death. Kind of like the Gem of Amara."
"Ooh."
"If I may continue," Giles asked, curbing his annoyance at the interruption. A quick nod from Willow and he was off again. "He needed a witch for his ritual, and ironically enough, since he couldn't find one, he was going to settle for the Slayer."
"Hey, no man 'settles' for me!" Buffy interjected angrily, missing the point of the conversation just slightly.
The watcher shot her a withering look before continuing. "As I was saying, he needed a witch. At a certain point in the ritual, a God is summoned. He needs a sacrifice of power. A witch. The god will drain the witch of her power, and grant the wish of immortality to the vampire."
"WAIT!" Willow screeched, the word 'drain' turning her world upside down. "Drain?" she asked, looking angrily at Spike. "Drain?!" she spit the word at him, watching him flinch under her glare. "You said he only needed to take a 'little nibble.' What the hell was that about?"
"Well I could hardly tell you he was going to drain you," he responded, his anger and his demon both close to the surface. It was sheer force of will that kept him from reaching across the table and tearing into her. Well, that and the chip.
"Look at you right now," he tried to reason. "You're so upset. If I had told you earlier that he had planned to drain you, it would have only made you more afraid, more panicked. You were hard enough to deal with as it was!"
"But, but," her face fell and tears began to form in her eyes. She knew he was right, but it still hurt. The feelings that she had experienced in that room were still so raw and close to the surface, and it was hard to ignore them. She remembered how she had felt when she thought that the magic was gone. The idea of having to be that way forever had terrified her.
"Willow?" Giles' gentle hand on her shoulder brought her back to reality. She was safe, she reminded herself, the ordeal was over, and she came out of it okay. Nobody was going to steal her magic.
"Sorry Giles," she said quietly.
"So, Spike here," Giles said, glancing at the blond seated next to him, "Pledged his help to Marco. As he explained it, it was better to let Marco believe that Spike was on his side. That way he could get a look at the set-up and figure out for himself just how dangerous this was going to be. And then, once he got a copy of the ritual, he realized that not only was he going to have to let the ritual happen, but he was going to have to seemingly go along with the plan a well."
Willow frowned, trying to make sense out of the last part. "What do you mean, Giles?"
"Well the ritual is rather specific. It can only be done once in a millennium, and once it is started, there is no turning back. It seemed in our best interest to let Marco start the ritual, and then interrupt it. That way once it was interrupted, no other vampire would be able to perform the ritual for a long time. Certainly not within our lifetimes."
Willow was silent, trying to process everything that Giles had told her. Spike had come to them with the information, shared it with them, and had agreed to their plan. But why? "Why didn't he just perform the ritual himself?" She hadn't realized that she had spoken aloud until Spike answered her.
"You know how I feel about you. Told you on more than one occasion. Not gonna sit here and proclaim my feelings in front of all your little friends." His voice was low and soft, and directed only to her. "Knew I couldn't perform the ritual without you, and if I did try to do it with you, you'd never forgive me." His eyes gazed deeply into hers as he said his next words: "What's the point of living forever if you're not with the one you love?"
Willow sat back in her chair, stunned by the raw emotion in his eyes; the emotion that echoed in his voice as he spoke to her. She had completely underestimated the depths of his feelings for her, and was bitterly ashamed by the fact. This had never been about an easy lay or convenient sex. He really did love her. The knowledge shocked her silent, her thoughts turning inward as she tried to untangle the complicated feelings his words evoked.
Her heart told her to answer him, to tell him that she cared for him as much as he cared for her, but she couldn't do it. Not yet. It was too soon, and her emotions were just too confusing. She needed time to sort through the complicated feelings she had towards him, and figure out if love really was one of them. It might be, but she had to be sure.
"I-I think," she began, feeling all eyes on her. Then her confusion and doubt overwhelmed her again and she ran from the Magic Box, fleeing for the safe haven of her home.
~Part: 19~
Now that she knew the truth about Spike, Willow had some serious thinking to do. 'Might as well be comfortable while I make a decision that will affect the rest of my life,' she thought whimsically as she lay down on the couch. She stretched out comfortably and closed her eyes, trying to concentrate and unravel the feelings she had for the blond vampire.
She had to admit it: a part of her felt embarrassed about the lack of trust she had displayed towards Spike. After all, they *had* been friends...of a sort. But the analytical side of her smacked down the emotional side, refusing to feel guilt for not trusting a soulless vampire. After all, her brain reminded her, it wasn't like he hadn't lied to her. Often. Hell, it wasn't even as if he hadn't tried to kill her on several occasions. She had every right not to trust him.
'Even if he did save your life,' the thought came unbidden to the surface. Not only had he saved it, but he'd given up so much to be with her. Marco would have given him everything he wanted - money, prestige, the removal of the chip and all that went with it. But he had refused it all, just to keep her safe. For once and for all, she had to admit to herself that Spike really did love her. He wasn't just looking for someone to warm his bed. If that had been his goal, well, it would have been easy for him to accomplish it, and without involving her.
But did she love him? Maybe, just maybe she did.
His imagined betrayal brought one thing out in stark relief: she couldn't have been as hurt as she was if some pretty strong feelings for him didn't exist.
Admittedly, the betrayal of a friend was always painful. But when she thought that Spike had thrown in with Marco, it had hurt her badly. Really badly. Not just because she was scared, not just because he wasn't the friend she had imagined. This had felt like someone had shoved a knife in her stomach and twisted hard. The fear, the anger, the betrayal, all it had been that much more intense because it was directed towards someone she had strong feelings for. Feeling stronger than mere friendship.
So where did that leave her?
For what felt like the thousandth time, Willow went through her thoughts and feelings and tried to sort them all out. And just like every single time before, she failed.
She had tried making a list on the computer: pros and cons of dating a vampire. Yeah, that had been a weird list.
Then she tried to analyze exactly why she felt like she should give their relationship a chance. Was it because she felt guilty about all that he had given up? Was it because she knew he cared for her? Was it because he was convenient? Or was it because she really *did* feel something for him that was worth exploring?
She even tried asking Buffy and Xander for their opinions. Now *that* had been a strange conversation, to be sure. Honestly, she had expected her two friends to do everything they could to keep her from even considering the idea. Lord knows they hadn't been fans of the vampire in the past. But when she had asked them, oh so seriously, what they thought about her having a relationship with Spike, they had surprised her.
Of course Xander made the obligatory grimace, and his usual 'How come all the hot girls are dating demons' quip. But once form had been satisfied, the young man actually went as far as to admit that he would accept Spike being a part of Willow's life. He wasn't thrilled about it, she could tell that by the look on his face. But he would accept it and wish them well.
Buffy's response was surprising too; the blonde told her friend how Spike had acted as they had discussed the details of their plan. How he had done everything he could to ensure her safety, even at the risk of his own. That, more than anything else, had convinced Buffy that Spike cared deeply for Willow.
And then Willow listened to her nagging heart. All it did was tell her, constantly, that she needed to figure all this piddly stuff out quickly so that she could see him. Talk to him. Explain to him.
But of course, being Willow, she couldn't just do that. She had to analyze the decision down to the last iota of emotion, agonizing over and over again to see if she was doing the right thing.
And then there were the uncertainties. What if after all of this, he decided he didn't want her anymore? Or decided she was unworthy or ungrateful, or just not what he had expected?
The 'what ifs' began to crowd her brain, making her want to scream with frustration and the uncertainty of it all.
And then, at long last, she picked up the phone and dialed.
~~~*~~~
Three days. It had been three long days since Spike had seen Willow, and he was beginning to come to terms with the fact that she might not ever want to see him again. She was avoiding him he knew, and that knowledge cut him like the sharpest knife, leaving his emotions to spill out of his body, slowly killing the light inside of him.
Even after everything, even knowing that he willingly gave up true immortality and the chance to walk in the sunlight for her, she avoided him. All the things he had missed so badly that he fought never to think of them; and he gave them up without a regret. For her. And it still wasn't enough to convince her that he loved her.
He thought about how it could have been. Should have been. If only he hadn't been ruled by his weak human emotions for her. He imagined them standing on the beach, sun-warmed sand clinging to his feet, as they watched the sun sink low in the sky. He would kiss her in that magical moment, as the last rays of the sun disappeared, leaving behind a sky aflame with reds and oranges and yellows.
And then, after the last of the sun had fled the sky, they would walk hand in hand, talking, laughing, and loving. Maybe she would have forgiven him eventually. Maybe. Now he'd never know.
He shook his head angrily. Looks like he was love's bitch yet again.
The strident ring of the telephone startled him momentarily. He considered ignoring it. Certainly there was no one in this world that he was interested in speaking to.
Except her.
On the third ring he broke down, grabbing the cordless phone from its cradle and almost growling into the phone: "Yeah?"
For a moment there was nothing but silence to greet him. "Hello?" he asked again, his voice a little less threatening.
"Spike?"
She sounded scared and small. Probably it was a trick of the phone, the modern convenience that gave the ability of face-to-face conversation, but never quite captured all the nuances of it. He wished he could see her face.
"Yeah," he answered quietly, trying not to read too much into a simple phone call. Still, it was the first contact he'd had with her in three days; even more important, the first contact initiated by her, in he couldn't remember how long. His dark heart couldn't help but lighten just a little.
"Can we talk?"
"We are talking, luv."
"No, I mean somewhere, somewhere together, face to face, you know?"
"Well, sure, I guess. Do you want to come over here?" Please say yes, please say yes, please...
She thought about that for a moment before replying. "Neutral ground would be better, okay?"
"Oh. Okay. Espresso Pump, maybe?"
"That would--okay, that would work," he heard the relief in her voice and smiled.
"Just promise me something," she asked hesitantly.
"Anything."
"Don't let me drink any coffee, okay? Me, caffeine, NOT a good combination."
He chuckled, the first sign of merriment from him in longer than either of them could remember.
"Not a problem. Somehow I'll manage to keep you away from the hard stuff, okay?"
A breathless giggle, and then her response: "Good. So, tonight, after sundown?"
"Tonight," he agreed, smiling as he hung up the phone and then punched the air above his head in a signal of victory.
~Part: 20~
Willow fidgeted uneasily in hear seat at the Espresso Pump. She had arrived a little early, her eagerness causing her to leave much earlier than she really needed to. But this was important, and being late would have started things off on the wrong foot, so she chose to leave early, even if it *did* mean that she was stuck here in this booth, getting more and more nervous by the second.
Doubts began to assail her as the minutes ticked by. Would he hate her? What if he didn't accept her apology? Hell, would he even show up?
'Maybe the whole idea was stupid,' she thought, letting her insecurities slowly wash over her resolve, eating it away like acid. I should just go before he gets here. Before I make a fool out of myself.
She was halfway out of the booth when she saw him, walking in the door like he owned the place. Striking blue eyes swept the room, searching for copper red hair. When they saw her they stopped, noted her position, and a delicate eyebrow lifted in question.
Caught! Unwilling to admit that she had been about to flee the shop due to a lack of backbone, Willow decided on an alternate plan. Bold as could be, she walked up to Spike and looked him in the eye, daring him to call her a chicken.
"I was just about to get something to drink," she lied. "Would you like anything?"
He smiled slightly at her and she knew she hadn't fooled him one bit. But he merely answered, "Sure, how about some of that bottled water. No coffee for you, right?"
"Right."
"Why don't you go sit back down and I'll bring it to the table. Hot chocolate okay? Or apple cider?"
"Thanks. Um...apple cider."
"Just don't run out on me, okay?"
He said the words teasingly, a slight smile on his lips, but there was a strong undercurrent of seriousness in his gentle voice.
She smiled nervously and headed back to the table, waiting patiently for Spike to get there with the drinks. As she sat, she watched as he stood in line, his back facing her. His ever-present jacket was gone for the night. Maybe was too warm? What he *was* wearing made her heart race and her palms sweaty: black jeans that molded themselves to his body like a second skin. So that wasn't much of a surprise, really. With Spike, black clothes were pretty much a given. A black shirt t-shirt covered a toned, hard chest, and in turn the t-shirt was covered by a red short-sleeved shirt as well. She wondered if he knew how good he looked in those colors. Without a reflection, it was probably hard to tell. But he had known plenty of women in his life, she reminded herself. Surely one of them had told him.
And then he turned towards her, drinks in hand, and nothing remained in Willow's brain except pure emotion. Nervousness, uncertainty, insecurity, and small amounts of lust and fear, perhaps. She did her best to ignore them, turning her attention to the vampire that was sitting down across the table from her.
"So, how've you been?" He started out with the easy questions. The hard stuff would be coming soon enough.
"Good," she said with a small smile. "Well, I've been thinking and crying and being angry and a lot of stuff. And then I just kind of threw things for a while. That takes a lot of energy, you know? But it was good. I needed to do it. But not the throwing, really. I mean, it felt good and everything, but I didn't really *need* to do it." She thought sadly about the book she had accidentally thrown into the CD tower, and the cascading CDs that rained down, taking a good ten minutes to put away. So maybe that part hadn't been quite so good. "I had to know for sure how I felt..." Her voice drifted off softly, her eyes uncertain.
"So you were thinking?" he prompted, seeing the fear and uncertainty she was trying so hard to hide. Poor girl was a bundle of nerves.
"I need to apologize," she said, stopping to take a sip of the cider, drawing strength from the warm liquid.
"No, you don't need to apologize. I understand--"
"Please, Spike," she said, laying a hand over his for a moment. "Please let me say this. Because I really need to, and if I don't say it now, I'll chicken out and never get it said. And--and I really need to." And you deserve to hear it, she added silently.
He turned his hand over and held hers with his long, cool fingers, giving her a slight squeeze of encouragement. It was gratifying to see that she didn't try to remove her hand, and instead it relaxed within his grasp.
With a deep breath, Willow prepared to speak. "First, I want to say I'm sorry. I should have trusted you right from the start, I know that now." She stopped for a moment, eyes glued to the table, another deep breath causing her chest to rise and fall enticingly. Spike kept his eyes on her face, but it was an effort. Her light V-neck sweater showed off the curves of her neck and throat teasingly, making him wish that he wasn't a vampire of such high morals and constraints. All he really wanted to do right now was lean across the table and run his lips over every curve and let his tongue explore every inch of her skin.
Words. Concentrate on her words, you bloody moron. You're not some stupid adolescent git controlled by your prick.
He cleared his throat, watching as her eyes flew to his face. "It's not really your fault, pet. I mean, it's not like I was honest with you about, well, anything. But I couldn't tell you the truth about Marco and his set-up. If I had, they would have known. Either they would have smelled it when you weren't as afraid as you should have been, or you would have blown it with that beautiful mouth of yours."
At her angry glare, he couldn't help but add gently, "C'mon luv, you know as well as I do that you can't keep a secret to save your life."
Her features softened and a wry smile teased at the corners of her lips. "Okay, so maybe I'm not much of a liar," she agreed. "At least when it comes to lying to other people. I seem to be pretty good at lying to myself though."
She said the words softly, waiting nervously for his reaction.
Instead of saying something - anything, he just squeezed her hand again and smiled. She had to say it on her own, without prompting, or he would never be sure.
"Okay, so here goes nothing," she said, closing her eyes briefly and then opening them again and staring deep into his. "You said you loved me. And maybe I didn't believe you at first. But you kept thunking me over the head with it, and I guess either I finally believe you now, or maybe I've just got brain damage from all the thunking."
Willow fidgeted nervously for a moment before she continued. "And maybe some of those things you said to me before were kinda true. Maybe I am scared of being hurt. Because, you know, my track record? Not so good." Her voice dropped to the merest whisper, but thanks to enhanced hearing, he heard every syllable of her next words: "But maybe I'm ready to try again."
Willow watched as Spike's smile grew from an uncertain shimmer to a wide grin. "So what are you saying, exactly?"
"Spike, would you like to," a heavy blush suffused her face. She attempted to hide it, to duck her head down and stare at the table, but he wasn't having any of that. His fingers touched her chin gently, drawing her face up to meet his own.
"Would I like to...?"
"Would you like to go out on a date?" the words came out in a breathless rush, the blood rising once again to suffuse her face with a rosy glow.
"Willow," he answered softly, gently, reassuringly, "I thought you'd never ask."
They laughed then, a laughter born of relief and happiness, and in anticipation of good times to be shared down the road.
The end.