Parts: 11 - 20
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~Part: 11~
WTB2K: So Gal, did you give that guy at work the talk? Tell him he can't treat you like that anymore? Get him to lay off?Wait a minute, he kissed her? After she bit him on the nose? Suddenly the fog lifted, and things became quite clear to Spike. He finally realized what was going on here. Gal was, Willow?GaladrialGal: Well, kinda, I guess. Okay, it was like this; he was really bugging me. You know? He was getting in my space and well,
bothering me.WTB2K: Bothering you how? Did he threaten you? You need someone to help you? Don't you have a big brother or some kind of friend
who will beat the bloody hell out of him? I'm still willing, you know, just say the word and I'll be there.GaladrialGal: Oh, but I got him, kind of. When he pushed his face against mine, I bit him! Right on the nose. And, you know, it felt really good.
WTB2K: Why you bloodthirsty little vampire, you. Way to go Gal! I've got to admit, I'm impressed. So what happened after that?
GaladrialGal: Well, okay, this is where it got weird. He got really mad at me, which I can understand, because me with the biting
and everything, but then, well, he kind of kissed me.
The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Gal's late hours, the fact that her taste in movies and books tended towards the supernatural, and the attitudes and opinions that she held that were so hauntingly familiar. Damn, he thought. Why the hell hadn't he noticed this before?
WTB2K: Bloody hell, got a problem here! Sorry, luv, I've gotta go for a bit. I'll try to make it back later. Bye.And then he was gone. Huh, the redhead thought, surprised by her friend's abrupt departure. Hope I didn't freak him out too much with that nose-biting comment. I mean it's not like I make a habit of biting or anything. I only bite annoying bleach-blond vampires.
Oh shit, she thought, her mind heading off on another tangent. Vampires. Hadn't she read once that biting was a kind of sexual thing for vampires? Like foreplay or something? Was *that* why Spike had kissed her? Had he thought she was coming on to him when she bit him?
Willow groaned and held her head in her hands. Had she encouraged him? Could her night possibly get any worse, she wondered.
The redhead tried to calm her racing thoughts and swiftly beating heart. Surely Spike hadn't thought she was interested in him in that way. And she *knew* that he wasn't interested in her. She was the quiet one, the shy one who stayed in the shadows, around the edges of the group. He rarely even knew she was there most of the time, she suspected.
The kiss was just a fluke, she decided. Who knew what he was thinking when she bit him, but it probably just set off an automatic reaction in him, and that's why he kissed her. Yep, automatic, non-sexual, uninterested, purely instinctual, automatic. Had she already said automatic, she wondered.
So why did that thought not make her feel any better, she wondered?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Gal was Willow, Spike thought in quiet amazement. And then, even more surprising, she thought he was harassing her. Yeah, he admitted, he liked to give her a hard time. Make her heart race a little, but it was all in fun, right? He was a vampire. That was what vampires did, he reminded himself. He may have that soddin' chip in his head, but he was still a demon.
But now he had a decision to make. He knew who Gal was. And even though he now knew she was really Willow, he still didn't want to lose her. Lose what they had together. They had been talking every night for over a month, and he really felt like they had a connection. She was fun, intelligent, challenging, interesting. And despite her innocence, there was a wild streak in her that he would love to touch. Just think, all of those qualities were contained in the quiet little redhead that he had known for quite some time. He shook his head sadly, cursing himself for lost time and missed opportunities.
Then again, maybe not. Sure, she was fond of WTB, maybe even considered him a friend. But how would she feel if she knew the truth? How would she feel if she knew that WTB was actually William the Bloody, a.k.a. Spike? The man who had tried to kill her on just *how* many occasions? Would she still enjoy talking with him, teasing him, staying up all night just to argue with him? Or would she retreat back within that shy facade; that wall that she erected between her and the rest of the world? After all, one of the basic safeties of their relationship was the fact that they could tell each other anything without it ever coming back to haunt them. If she had known that she was actually speaking to Spike, someone she considered her own personal tormenter, she would *never* have felt comfortable enough to talk to him about anything, much less the intimate late-night talks they'd had about sex.
Spike made up his mind, not stopping for a moment to consider the possible consequences of his choice. He would not tell Willow, or Gal, for that matter, who he was. He would continue on as though nothing had happened. Maybe, in the future, he would feel secure enough about her feelings towards him to tell her the truth.
In the meantime, he would work towards building a friendship with Willow. It wouldn't be easy, he knew. Gal obviously thought that Spike hated her, hated Willow, that is. He growled in frustration. This was just ridiculously confusing, he thought.
The fact was, his feelings towards the redhead had generally been a mix of annoyance and indifference. Usually he really didn't think about her much at all. She was one of the annoying Scoobies, but she seemed so quiet and self-contained that often he didn't even notice she was there. Admittedly he enjoyed teasing her. And when he did, he could almost always count on her to respond just the way he wanted her to. The few times she had actually stood up for herself, like today, he usually ended up hurting somewhere. He felt his nose gingerly, remembering their altercation earlier in the training room.
The vampire groaned softly, running his fingers through his blond hair, and wondered how the hell things had gotten so bloody complicated. He just *knew* that someone up there was having one hell of a good laugh at his expense. "Bloody bastards," he said in disgust, casting an accusing eye upwards.
~Part: 12~
Willow sat quietly at the table in the Magic Shop, her computer sitting next to her, useless for the moment. The room was silent, giving her the peace and quiet that she needed to do her work. Giles had gone out for the evening to attend some sort of symposium in Los Angeles. Before he left, he had asked her to attempt a translation of a scroll he had obtained, and she was doing her best to help him out. Unfortunately, they seemed to be written in a dialect that she was not terribly familiar with, and her frustration level was rising steadily.
Her head turned quickly to the door when she heard the clang of the bell, hoping eagerly for some sort of diversion. Xander or Buffy, while not always the most helpful researchers, were usually pretty good at distracting her from things she really didn't want to do in the first place, she thought with a small smile. The redhead was slightly disappointed to see Spike saunter in. As usual, he managed to project an air as he entered the store: his handsome blond head held high, a slight sneer on his full lips, lips which managed to set off the sharp angular planes of his face, and a slightly predatory walk. He looked as if he owned the place, and everyone and everything inside it. After casting a quick look at his direction, Willow ducked her head back down to the scrolls, her long red hair forming a curtain between her and the vampire.
Willow was surprised by a slight movement that caught the corner of her eye, and the next thing she knew, Spike was sitting down in the chair next to her. His proximity made her nervous, although she did her best to hide it. Choosing instead to study the scroll in front of her even more doggedly, she attempted to ignore the vampire, but he was determined to make that difficult, it seemed.
"So, um, what are you up to tonight?" he asked awkwardly, trying his best to sound casual yet interested. Oh yeah, that was an opening line destined to be a classic, he mocked himself. Bloody hell, it's right up there with 'what's a girl like you doing in a place like this', he thought with disgust. Looking at her down turned head, he thought she jerked slightly at his words.
Willow started slightly at the sound of his voice, surprised that he had decided to join her. Usually he ignored her when he saw her there, choosing to head down to his underground lair and whatever it was that he did there at all hours of the day and night. She looked up nervously, seeing his appraising crystal-blue eyes upon her. His face was serious, looking as if he actually cared about how she might answer his question. That would be a first, she thought grimly.
Still, there was no reason not to be pleasant, the redhead supposed. After all, she was bored and could use some sort of diversion. She shrank back into herself slightly as he stood again to look over her shoulder, his hand brushing against her hair slightly. "What's this all about?" he asked, running his hand lightly over the symbols on the creamy, worn parchment.
"Well," she started hesitantly, looking up into the vampire's face, noting the slight wrinkles that appeared on his forehead when he was trying to figure something out, "I think it's written in a variation of Aramaic, but I can't be sure. It looks an awful lot like Hebrew, so I was hoping I could figure out a close approximation of what it says. Seems like those years and years of Hebrew lessons should be good for something, right?" She cast a quick glance up to the vampire, who was still staring intently at the scroll, seemingly lost in thought.
"No, not Hebrew," he told her finally, lifting his long lean hand off of the parchment and running it through his blond hair. He stood back a little, looking down at the scroll again. "Looks like Avestan to me. Same language family, different variation."
Willow looked up at him in surprise. The first shock came from the fact that he'd been able to put a name so quickly to something that she had been researching most of the night. The second shock came from the fact that he had willingly shared his information with her, without trying to figure out how to use it to his advantage. Both items were cause for amazement, as far as the redhead was concerned.
"Um, thanks Spike," she said quietly, trying not to break the spell that he seemed to be under. She kind of liked this introspective, *nice* Spike. "I didn't know that you knew anything about languages."
He took his eyes from the scrolls finally and looked down into her upturned face. Even now, knowing that she was Gal, he still had trouble believing it. She seemed so different here, in real life. So...fragile, he supposed. He gave her one of his trademark smirks and answered back, "What, did you just think I got by all this time on my looks? I picked up a couple of pieces of information here and there. In fact, I bet I could tell you what a lot of this stuff says. If you want, that is," he added uncertainly.
"Are you kidding?" she answered readily. "That'd be, well, really cool. Then I could get out of here and be home before midnight, and I could--" she trailed off abruptly, not wanting to say the rest of that sentence. Willow knew that telling him she wanted to race home to talk to a friend online would make her sound like the world's biggest geek, so she would prefer to avoid giving him that information.
He had picked up on her hesitation, though, and wasn't going to let her off the hook that easily. Easing his body into the chair next to her again, he rested his feet on the table and leaned the chair back. Looking the picture of an arrogant creature, comfortable and in his element, he asked her, "So you could what? You've got hot plans for tonight, huh? Oh, that's right, the Slayer said the other night that you had yourself a little boyfriend. I thought you were playing for Team Pink these days. Did you find yourself missing a little something?" he asked, smirking suggestively at her.
~Part: 13~
Now this was the Spike she expected, Willow thought. King of the sexual innuendo and always thinking the nasty thoughts. Were all guys like this? Was it something in the 'guys' handbook that they had to follow? If they didn't, would they get kicked out of the club, lose access to the secret clubhouse, she wondered?
He cursed himself when he saw the look on her face. He was trying to be her friend, he reminded himself. Acting like an insensitive bastard probably wasn't going to get the job done. On the other hand, he did love watching the wonderful pink tinge that graced her pretty face when he embarrassed her. Her face was just so incredibly expressive.
"Not that it's any of your business," she began haughtily, "but you misunderstood what I was talking about with Buffy. I don't have a new boyfriend. Or any boyfriend for that matter. If you hadn't been so intent on...well, being rude, then I would have told you before."
Spike had wondered about that, actually. He couldn't figure out how she could possibly have a boyfriend when she spent just about every night online with him, or at least with WTB. Now the mystery was solved, and the feelings he noticed, growing feelings of irrational jealousy, could be put aside with relief.
"So if you don't have a boyfriend, or a girlfriend for that matter," he stopped and looked at the redhead, waiting for her to nod in confirmation, "then what's the big hurry to get out of here tonight? Not that it's any of my business," he added with a smile, mocking her earlier words.
Willow looked at the vampire uneasily, but finally decided to tell him the truth. "I'm meeting a friend online. We talk in the evenings sometimes. So if we can just get this done," she added, her hand waving to indicate the scroll, "then I could go home and talk with him."
"Okay, luv, how do you want to do this?" he asked.
"Do what," she answered nervously, trying to drag her mind away from WTB and back to the subject at hand.
"Ancient scrolls, dead language, probably a prophecy involved, I'm assuming? There's always some sort of bloody prophecy involved with you lot, isn't there?"
"Hey, it's not my fault," she denied hotly, her temper rising at what she assumed was his accusatory tone.
He looked at the rising color in her face and the snap in her sparkling green eyes and couldn't help but laugh. She reminded him of an angry kitten, facing off against another creature twice its size, but still willing to give in. How he'd managed to overlook her fire in the past, he'd never know. Must be getting daft in my old age, he thought.
Laughter, he soon realized, was apparently the wrong reaction, because the redhead's face turned a bright scarlet and she got up and paced behind him in agitation. "Now, now, witch, relax, I wasn't laughing at you. Don't take everything so bloody personally, all right?"
"Fine," she huffed, plopping her body down into her chair again, the force of her action causing the table to wobble slightly. "So if you are going to help me with this, then start helping. I need to type the translation into an email, so I can send it to Giles. Not that he'll be able to open the email, Anya will have to do that for him," she groused, still annoyed by the ex-Watcher's refusal to learn how to do even the simplest things when it came to the computer.
Spike turned the manuscript to face him, making some notes on a pad of paper that Willow placed before him. It took him about 20 minutes, time Willow spent sneaking curious covert glances at his face and hands, but he managed to determine the bulk of the wording.
"Here's what it looks like to me," he said, turning the pad towards the redhead for her perusal. "Does this match what you had figured so far?"
Willow's eyes followed the bold, broad strokes of his translation as
she read the prophecy quietly to herself,
He who leads the dark ones of the great cope
Will be prevailed upon to perform several deeds
The two, the red, and the one will aid
Under dark skies, three, once two, will become one.
"You ask me, these prophecies are always a bunch of rubbish anyway," Spike added, disgust coloring his voice. "So damn vague that even if you knew what they were trying to say, you'd be hard put to read it into what they actually wrote."
Willow nodded absently in agreement with his words, quickly typing the translation into an email and sending it off to Giles. He could do whatever the heck he wanted with it, she thought. At least I don't have to deal with it anymore. Her chore was done, and she was eager to get home.
"That pretty much agrees with what little I had translated," she told him. "Although that symbol there," she pointed to one on the top line of the parchment, "I thought that said 'blood' and not 'dark.'"
"Yeah, I can see why you'd think that," he acknowledged thoughtfully. "But here, let me show you," he said, grabbing her right hand lightly and placing her index finger down onto the character they were discussing. "See this here," he said, as he placed his finger on top of hers, using it to guide her finger lightly across the page to trace the symbol in question. "This is dark. This," he added, again using her finger in order to draw a slightly different symbol, "this is blood. Very similar." His voice, when it said the word 'blood,' had taken on a softer, more sensual tone. It seemed almost as if his memories of other days were intruding on the here and now.
Willow sat absolutely still, enjoying the sound of his voice and the feeling his long, soft hand resting on hers. His cool thumb rubbed small circles onto the back of her hand, although the vampire seemed not to notice what he was doing. The redhead was unsure whether she should say or do something to break the intimate contact, or just enjoy it.
Better let her leave while she still likes me, Spike decided. He never knew what to expect from her as it was; the most unexpected remark or even his laughter might make her angry or start her blushing. Then again, he reminded himself, he had never really understood women. Not the human ones, at least.
"Well, I'd best be off," he told her as he lifted his hand off of hers. "You okay to go home on your own, or you want an escort?"
"No--no, I'm fine. Thanks." Her words were slightly rushed as she hurried to the door and the relative safety of the night. "Thanks, Spike. For your help."
His answering, "You're welcome pet," was lost in the clanging of the bell above the shop door, as the redhead walked out into the warm evening air.
The vampire waited a couple of minutes before slipping out the door after the witch. Although he told himself that he needed to stretch his legs, oddly enough his feet took him by the redhead's house, and his eyes made sure that he saw her enter the house before he left to return home.
~Part: 14~
A sharp wind rustled through the trees and put a cold bite into the late evening air. Willow shivered slightly and pulled her coat tighter around herself. Speeding up her pace in an attempt to keep herself warm, she peered anxiously down the tree-lined street, looking for anything out of place. Spike walked along beside her, his long legs keeping pace with hers, his eyes constantly roving the street in front of them.
Tonight they were out doing a general patrol; they were not on the lookout for anything in particular. Joyce had insisted that the Slayer take a night off, and since things had been quiet lately, Giles had bowed to parental pressure and allowed Buffy to spend a night with her mother.
Giles had called Xander, Willow and Spike in to the Magic Box to organize a quick patrol, figuring that if they split up into two groups they could cover the small town quickly and then head home. For once Spike didn't grouse. Much to Willow's surprise, he simply grabbed the crossbow and a battle axe and then headed to the door, throwing her a quick "C'mon" over his shoulder as he held the door open for her. She quickly followed, not wanting to do anything that would put him in a worse mood.
The shy redhead glanced up at the blond vampire now, appreciating the way that his keen blue eyes ranged from one shadow to another, his vampiric senses seeking out anything that could cause trouble for them. His good mood of the previous night seemed to be holding, and although they walked in silence, it seemed to be a companionable silence, as opposed to the angry, bitter quiet of evenings past. Willow was glad; maybe he wasn't as much of a hopeless cause as she had thought.
"So, witch," began Spike quietly, startling the redhead slightly, "did you have a good evening last night? Have fun on your date?" The words weren't mocking or antagonistic. The tone of his voice merely expressed mild curiosity or an attempt to discuss something in order to pass the time.
Willow stole another look up at the vampire, feeling slightly uneasy about discussing WTB with him. She still half-expected him to break into his usual foul mood and treat her to a sarcastic comment or two about how the internet only attracted losers or freaks. Her emotional shields well in place, she answered back rather non-committally: "We had a good time; we always do."
"So what do you talk about with this guy? I mean, other than the computer stuff, do you have all that much in common? It's not like you can talk to him honestly about what you do, right? I mean, you haven't told him about the Slayer or living on the hellmouth or anything, have you? Because, if someone told me about that, I'd be getting him or her one of those cute little white jackets. You know, with the long sleeves? Kind of a wrap-around look."
Willow stifled a giggle, taking a minute to imagine the blond vampire in a straight-jacket, his hair wild, the intense blue eyes shaded slightly with insanity. She looked back at him, surprised to find him eyeing her appraisingly.
"And just what brought about that fit of laughter, luv?" he asked teasingly. "Yeah, I saw it, saw you try to hide it. Vampire senses, remember? You'll have to do better than that," he reminded her with a smirk.
"Just imagining you in white," she shot back, a cheeky grin on her face.
Seeing her smile like that made him smile too, in spite of himself. This was the Willow he never saw. Teasing, smiling, happy. Sure, she'd been like this around the moron or the Slayer, but with him she'd always been a timid, shy little thing. He liked this Willow a lot; she reminded him of his Gal.
Spike opened his mouth to shoot back some smart-ass retort, but before he even had a chance, he was blindsided by a demon that came at him quickly from out of the shadows. Before he could even yell out a warning to Willow, he was on the ground, flat on his back, the demon straddling his chest. He attempted to buck the creature off of him, but it was as if a lead weight had settled onto his chest. It was a good thing that the vampire didn't feel the need to breathe; otherwise he would have suffocated under the pressure.
It was an ugly thing--dark green scales covered most of its large body, including its oversized head. The scales surrounding its stomach and belly were flat and smooth like iron plates, but those that protruded from its back were sharp and long; triangle-shaped weapons set out across its body to be used to spear its prey.
Spike looked at the creature above him, his eyes probing for any weaknesses to exploit or soft spots to damage. Seeing nothing obvious, he cast a click look around the demon, searching for Willow. Suddenly his stomach tightened in dread as he saw her facing another of the demons. She was still standing, but the fiend was backing her quickly against a tree. The blond vampire swore softly; he needed to get to her and help.
"Willow, relax, and remember what I taught you," he shouted at the redhead, hoping that she would be able to use some of the self-defense moves they had practiced. By the way she was letting herself be maneuvered by the demon, she was obviously panicking and forgetting what she knew.
Willow heard Spike's instructions and tried to calm herself and prepare to fight. Her back was up against the tree now, and the demon was just a step or two away from her and closing in fast. With the close proximity of the fiend, and the scales covering its body, it was obvious that the crossbow would be of little help. She looked in horror into the creature's red eyes and snarling mouth, the sharp pointy teeth dripping with drool. The demon leered at her suggestively, then leaned close in to her face. Willow screamed, then grabbed the arrow out of her crossbow, her fingers clutching at it in terror, and jammed it as far as she could into the creature's left eye.
The demon screamed in rage, flailing his arms wildly in front of him. Willow held the crossbow in front of her, attempting to move out of the way, and at the same time deflect the violent blows. She tried to dart quickly around it, but the demon still managed to knock her upside the head, and down she went, hitting the ground with a soft thud.
Seeing that the redhead was already down, Spike reached up with his axe and took a swing at his attacker's head. The swing was awkward and the aim was poor at best, but he managed to stun the creature momentarily. Taking advantage of its temporary disorientation, he swung the axe at its face. Although the blow didn't do much damage due to the scales on the creature's face, Spike *did* manage to gouge its eyes and cause a satisfying crunch when the axe crumpled his adversary's nose. Blood and other fluids went flying, and the creature screamed its displeasure.
The two injured demons realized that the creatures they had thought would be an easy dinner had turned out to be something else entirely, and ran off quickly into the night, chattering at each other in a weird clicking tongue.
Spike rushed over to examine Willow. The redhead was lying on the soft brown dirt under a large oak tree. The blond cursed quietly as he noticed her unnatural stillness. Her face was unmoving and serene below him, but he could hear her steady, regular breathing and her stable heartbeat. He tapped her softly on the cheek, trying to bring her back to consciousness quickly, but he received no response.
Hoping that he was making the right decision, the vampire picked her up gently and held her in his arms. Now all he had to do was figure out where to take her.
Spike decided that the Magic Box would be the best destination. Giles had a first-aid kit there, he knew, and if it looked like something was seriously wrong with the redhead, he could always call one of them over and let them make the decision to take her to a hospital. A hospital, he thought, groaning quietly. Poor little slip of a girl--her life should be full of school, boys, and dates, and instead she was patrolling the hellmouth.
He shook his head in an effort to dismiss such thoughts. What was important now was to get her back to the Magic Box safe and sound. Personal musing and soul-searching could come later, he reminded himself.
~Part: 15~
Spike entered his rooms in the basement of the Magic Box, the redhead still quiet in his arms. During the quick journey home she had not stirred at all, and the vampire was beginning to become concerned. Doubts began to flicker through his mind. Perhaps she had managed to hit her head when she fell. She could have a concussion at this very moment. Or maybe she had gotten punctured by one of the creature's spines, even though he hadn't seen anything like that happen.
Suddenly he felt an urgent need to make sure that there was no other physical damage. He could smell no wounds or blood dripping from her, but he needed to make a visual examination just to be sure.
He laid the little redhead down onto his bed, the black comforter cradling her small soft body. Running a hand over her bright fiery hair, he tried to decide what to do next. What he really needed to do was get her undressed and give her a quick going-over to make sure that no bones were broken and nothing else was wrong. But maybe he'd be better off letting the Slayer or one of her little friends do that work. On the other hand, he pondered, it could take a while for someone else to get there, so maybe he'd just better do it himself.
With deft, confident hands, he stripped Willow down to her underwear. He was tempted to undress her completely, but was afraid that if he did, the Slayer would soon be using his balls for paperweights. Well, she'd probably have to bronze them first or something, but he was sure that the stupid bint was up to the challenge. Or at least she *thought* she was, he conceded with a smirk.
Looking down at the still quiet redhead, Spike lost himself in the contemplation of her delicate body. Pale, unblemished skin with a light sprinkling of freckles, perfectly proportioned stomach and legs, and although the plain white cotton underwear obscured his view, he was sure that the rest of her was just as beautiful. 'You'd hardly know it,' he thought, 'Considering all those baggy, fluffy clothes she usually wore.' She hadn't looked too bad in her workout clothes, he knew, but back then he hadn't realized that she was his Gal. For some reason, knowing that fact made her seem more attractive. Damned if he knew why.
He ran his hands lightly over her body, squeezing here, probing there, looking for anything that might be broken or sprained or just...wrong. As he reached her right ankle and tried to move it to and fro, she groaned slightly and he immediately stopped. His long fingers probed the area gently and he realized that there was a bit of swelling. Perhaps she had twisted it when she fell.
He quickly finished the rest of his examination and concluded that other than the slightly swollen ankle, nothing else appeared to be wrong with the redhead. As he tried to decide what to do next, Willow started to move slightly on the bed, her head turning from side to side, the bright red tresses obscuring her face. As her movements became more agitated, Spike knew that he had to stop her before she hurt herself. Leaning over her, he used his arm and shoulders to hold her shoulders down onto the bed. That seemed to still most of her movements, but panicked words became to spill from her mouth. "Spike, demon, HELP," she moaned, before ending in a strangled scream.
The scent of her fear was strong in the air, and although the smell was intoxicating, Spike knew that he had to calm her down. "Willow," he called out sharply, his hand lightly slapping her flushed cheeks.
She seemed to be clawing her way up to consciousness, and finally her eyes started to flutter quickly and her frenzied movements began to slow, then finally stop altogether.
Willow pried her eyes open, surprised to see the blond vampire staring down at her, his body pinning her to the soft bed. "Why--what--where?" the words tumbled out of her mouth, her semi-conscious brain unable to form a coherent thought just yet.
While waiting for her mind to be capable of forming complete sentences, Willow glanced quickly around her. 'This must be Spike's room,' she thought. She was surprised by the spaciousness of his accommodations as well as the spartan furnishings. The wall to her right hosted a battered dark wood desk, one that had obviously seen better days. It was littered with white papers, haphazardly strewn about. On either side of the desk, the wall was covered with posters of various music groups, with the emphasis on late 70s/early 80s rock and punk. The far wall contained the doorway that lead to a stairway up to the Magic Box. On the left wall was another door that led to the facilities.
'Why would a vampire have a bathroom,' she wondered. 'Well, maybe if he wanted to entertain someone, it might be useful, she supposed.' But 'Spike' and 'entertaining' were not two words she usually thought she'd see in a sentence at the same time.
Willow looked down and noticed her state of dress--or rather, undress, and her eyes began to cloud over, the green darkening and sparks of anger growing in their depths. Her eyes searched the room, looking for any sign of her clothes, and finally spied them draped casually over the chair by the desk. On the far side of the room, of course, she thought bitterly.
"Spike," she spit out finally, her voice low and angry, "Why am I lying on your bed naked?"
"I'd hardly call that naked, luv," he replied, keeping his tone light. He looked down at her face and saw the beginning of a blush forming, the color beginning on the cheeks and spreading downward. He'd always wondered exactly how far down the blush would spread, and watched eagerly to see--
"Dammit, let me go," Willow said as she began to struggle, the fury and fear in her eyes reminding him that his body was still pinning her down onto the bed.
"Sorry," he mumbled, taking his eyes off of her for a minute in an effort to regain the air of indifference he usually showed when he dealt with any of the Scoobies. He could tell by the tone of her voice and the tenseness of her body that she was barely controlling her anger. Slowly he released her, his lithe body moving back to sit next to her, leaning against the headboard of the bed.
"And as for why you were...well, like you are," he added nonchalantly, in an attempt to answer her earlier question, "I needed to make sure you were okay. There was a demon--"
"What, a clothes-eating demon?" she shot back, annoyance making her voice sharp, the sarcastic words cutting into him like a knife, "Oh, so the *demon* ate my clothes, did it? And because you're such a nice guy--er, make that such a nice *vampire*--you decided to do me a favor and take me to your home and lay me down on your bed, where you could molest me at your leisure. So tell me now, Spike, is that what happened?"
"Cripes, witch, you're working yourself into a nasty ol' tizzy, aren't you?" he said defensively. Fine, if the little chit wasn't going to thank him for saving her damn life, then he sure as hell wasn't going to be nice to her. "I saved your life, you ungrateful bint," he snarled at her, forgetting about everything now except how angry she was making him.
"Do you remember *anything* that happened tonight?" he asked sarcastically. "Patrolling, you, me, demons, falling down and hitting your head, perhaps," he continued angrily.
Willow looked at the snarling demon before her, her anger turning to fear at the rage she glimpsed in his cold blue eyes. Bits and pieces of the evening flittered around her consciousness: the two of them walking together amiably; the appearance of one, and then two big ugly green demons; then the fighting, the demon hitting her, and then everything went black.
"Memories coming back now, I see," Spike said bitterly, his face set into solid tense lines, his body wound tightly with his resement of her tirade against him.
"Still doesn't explain why you took me here and undressed me," she countered, her own eyes still displaying her anger as well.
"Oh, so you think I should have left you in the park and just headed on home? Or maybe I should have taken you to your place and left you on the doorstep, seeing as how you were unconscious and couldn't let me in or anything? Yeah, witch, great plan. Gee, why didn't I think of that," he said derisively.
"And since I didn't want you to bleed to death or anything," he continued, "I figured I'd better have a look to make sure that there wasn't anything seriously wrong with you. You were unconscious, remember? And THAT is why I took SOME--but NOT ALL--of your clothes off," he finished, his voice getting louder and louder as he finished venting his displeasure.
Willow looked at him, taking in the rage in his eyes, and thought that perhaps, just perhaps, she had misjudged him. But that didn't give him the right to yell at her, a stubborn inner voice reminded her, as her agile mind mentally calculated the number of steps it would take her to reach the door of the room.
"Well since I'm *obviously* awake now, and none the worse for the experience, I think I'll just be going," she told him, her voice a mixture of stubbornness and fear. Before he could stop her, she slid off the huge bed and turned towards the desk to retrieve her clothes. As the weight hit her right foot, the ankle crumpled, and with a soft cry of pain the redhead slid down to the floor, her body in a tangled heap, tears welling in her eyes.
~Part: 15~
"Dammit, witch, what'd you have to go and do that for?" Spike growled as he watched her crumple to the floor. Suddenly he saw the tears of pain shining in her eyes and his earlier frustration and anger were quickly forgotten.
He jumped off the bed and knelt down beside Willow, trying to ignore the girl's actions and concentrate on helping her. Gently the handsome vampire lifted her upright, until she was standing on her good left foot, her body leaning slightly against him. He could tell by the tense way she held herself that she was still in pain, and he wished she would let him help her. 'Damn, she was stubborn sometimes,' he thought.
"I tried to tell you about the ankle," he muttered, "but you were being so pigheaded in your attempt to get the hell away from me that I didn't even have a chance."
"I'm sorry," she replied contritely, "But I--wait, nuh-uh, I'm not falling for that. How--how do I know that you didn't just twist my ankle or something while I was unconscious? You're a demon, right? I mean, vampires do things like that. They're not all fuzzy and nice and--and helpful and caring."
She stopped briefly, taking in a deep breath, before pinning him with her gaze. "I've read the Watchers Diaries, you know," she said with a sharp nod of her head, as if those seven words explained everything.
"Oh bloody soddin' hell," Spike muttered. I will *not* let her make me angry, he thought. He repeated the words to himself over and over again, hoping they would give him the strength not to ring her bloody neck. Not that he could do much damage, with that damn chip in his head, but at that very moment he was frustrated enough to give it a try in spite of the migraine that was sure to follow.
"Witch," he began, his voice dangerously quiet, "If I wanted to keep you here in my bed, there are certainly *easier* ways of restraining you than twisting your delicate little ankle." He looked up and over the bed, and as Willow's eyes followed his, they noticed the hook, complete with dangling chains, that were hanging high over his bed.
"Oh I am *so* not staying here one minute longer," she said uneasily, eyeing the chains as she attempted to get away from him, sprained ankle or not.
Spike, tired of arguing with her, finally let her go. He watched with barely concealed amusement as she hopped on one foot towards her clothes.
It wasn't a large room, but when you were hopping, it sure seemed huge, Willow realized. She shot a look back at the now-smirking vampire, surprised that he hadn't tried to stop her.
When she finally managed to get her clothes back on, she realized why Spike had been willing to let her be: although she had been able to hop from the bed to the desk, there was little chance that she would be able to hop all the way home. At least, not without ending up as a super deluxe happy meal, complete with chew toy, for any vampire she happened to pass on the way.
Willow looked back at Spike, who was now grinning openly at her. He was enjoying her predicament, she realized angrily. The young woman knew that she was going to have to swallow her pride and ask for his help, as much as the idea galled her. Hiding her seething anger and frustration, she looked calmly at the grinning vampire.
"Spike," she asked cooly, "Cou-could you help me?"
"Help you with what, luv?" he asked her innocently. He knew it would make her crazy to have to ask him for help, but after all the things she had accused him of tonight, he wasn't feeling all that interested in making things easy for her.
"You know what I'm talking about, Spike," she exclaimed bitterly, her temper flaring briefly. Calming down somewhat, she tried again. "I need some help getting back to my house."
"Getting you home will have to wait for nightfall, I'm afraid. Dawn's less than half an hour away, and although I could probably get you home by then, I'd turn into a big ol' pile of dust by the time I got back to my place. Not that that would bother you, likely, but I do enjoy being all solid and walkin' and talkin', you know?"
Willow glanced guiltily at her watch and realized that he was right; daybreak was not far away. There was no way he'd get her home and get back here in one piece. She sighed then, realizing that she'd have to spend the morning here, stuck with Spike. Hopefully once the Magic Box was open she could persuade Giles or Anya or, well, just about *anyone* to help her hobble back to her place.
Okay, might as well make the best of the situation, Willow decided. She noticed the computer sitting on the desk and wondered idly what Spike used it for. She knew what *she'd* like to use it for. She hadn't had a chance to talk to WTB last night, and she wondered if he had been worried about her. Usually they tried to check in every evening; if one of them wasn't going to be around, they would let the other know via email.
Spike must have been reading her mind, because his next words were along the same lines as her thoughts. "Would you like to check your email? I can boot it up if you'd like."
Willow nodded absently, her mind on WTB still.
"Go on and sit on the bed, Willow, and I'll wrap up your ankle. By the time I'm done with that, you should be able to go online and see if you've gotten any love poems from your boyfriend."
Willow shot him a dirty look at the mention of her 'boyfriend' but she did as Spike asked and sat down on the bed. The vampire poked the computer's 'on' button and watched briefly as it did its startup routine. Disappearing into his bathroom, he soon returned with a first aid kit. He knelt down in front of her and took her ankle, his gentle fingers deftly winding a sturdy bandage around and around it, until he felt that it would give her some support, at least until she could get to a doctor or nurse of some sort.
Willow was surprised at the gentle feel of his hands on her ankle. She had expected him to be ruthless and efficient. Not that he didn't do a good job; he did. But he was quite solicitous of her comfort as well. A couple of times she took in a sharp breath when a twinge of pain hit her. When that happened, he slowed down and softly rubbed the part that hurt until the pain had gone away, then continued doing what he needed to do to get her bandaged up.
Finally he was finished, and although it still hurt to put any more than a tiny bit of pressure on the ankle, it was still slightly better than it had been. With Spike's help, she was able to get up and limp across the room to the computer. As she sat herself down and connected to her mail server, Spike left the room, heading into the kitchenette to heat up a cup of blood. When he returned, he saw a rather concerned-looking Willow logging out of her email and shutting down the computer.
"Anything wrong?" he asked curiously.
"No, nothing really. It's just, I kind of expected to get an email, and it wasn't there."
"Something from your guy?"
"Well, yes. We usually talk by email if one of us is not going to be around, so I kind of expected to hear from him since I wasn't around last night. But there was nothing there. I hope nothing bad happened to him."
Spike looked vaguely uncomfortable, but Willow failed to notice, too wrapped up in her own thoughts.
"I'm sure he just had a bad night. Maybe there'll be an email from him later today." Yeah, he told himself, if he can figure out how to get online without a certain redhead seeing him, that is.
~Part: 16~
"So," Spike said awkwardly as he helped Willow get into his bed and lie down comfortably. Neither of them was particularly tired, or so they claimed, so in order to pass the time until the Magic Box was open, they were just going to have to talk and be sociable.
"Sorry I don't have anything for you to eat. The housekeeper forgot to come by this week, so I'm all out of Wheetabix," he told her jokingly. "There are some old crackers around here somewhere, although I have no idea how long they've been here," he said thoughtfully, trying to remember exactly *which* year it was that he'd bought them.
"It's okay, I'm not really hungry," Willow told him, stretching out on her back and getting comfortable. As weird as the situation was, maybe this time spent stuck with Spike would have a positive outcome. He *had* been nicer to her lately, so maybe they could build on that and forge some kind of comfortable working relationship. Hey, stranger things have happened, she reminded herself.
She turned her body so that she was lying on her side facing the vampire. He was laying on his back, hands laced together behind his head. Willow stared at his chest, oddly surprised at the fact that it was still and quiet, never moving, lungs never taking a breath.
Spike looked over at his guest and turned onto his side to face her. Although she had denied being tired, her green eyes had a soft, sleepy quality to them. She might not be asleep yet, but he suspected that she would be before too long.
"So what do you think those demons were, Spike?" she asked him curiously. "I don't remember seeing anything like them before, and they weren't really *that* strong. I bet if they hadn't caught us by surprise, you and Buffy could have taken them easily."
"I dunno," he answered back, trying to will his thoughts away from the beautiful young girl lying beside him on his bed. "I don't think I've ever seen them before, but that doesn't mean much. Hopefully the watcher can look through some of his books and find something on them. Not too worried, really. Like you said, they weren't much of a challenge."
"Still, it couldn't hurt much to look them up, right?" Willow asked eagerly, her eyes lighting up at the opportunity to do a little searching. "You could go upstairs and grab some--"
"Nope, not in the mood," he interrupted, watching her face fall a bit. He softened his voice a little, "You can research all you want in a little bit. I'm sure that once the Magic Box is open, Giles will be all in a lather about having something to look into. Right now, though, it's your responsibility to keep me entertained," he informed her with a slight smile.
Keep him entertained, Willow thought with confusion. How the heck was she supposed to do that? And why exactly was it *her* job to do it?
"Um, okay. Do you want to play cards or something?" she asked uncertainly.
"Nope," he told her, settling onto his back again, lacing his hands behind his head. "Tell you what," he began conspiratorially, "You tell me something, something that you've never told anyone else. And I'll do the same."
Willow snorted softly. "Not bloody likely," she told him.
He raised an eyebrow at her choice of words, but smiled a bit none-the-less. "Hmmm...don't trust me much, do you? Okay, well, you could just tell me a story, then."
"What kind of story?"
"I dunno, just something that happened to you. Maybe before I was around."
Willow searched her mind for some story to tell him. Everything that had ever happened to her would seem boring to a vampire who had lived over a hundred years, she was quite sure. Most of the really dangerous and exciting parts of her life, well, they usually involved either Spike or Angelus, or both. And they usually involved the two aforementioned vampires trying to kill her. Since he had actually been front and center for all of those events, they probably wouldn't hold much interest for him.
Then her mind went off on a tangent...Angelus...Angel...PUPPY! Yes, if that story didn't hold his interest, nothing would.
Willow snuggled down into the comforter a bit more, getting ready to tell her story.
"Well, there was the one time that Anya did this spell," she started out, sneaking a look up at him. He had closed his eyes and she wasn't sure if he was even still awake.
"Go on, then," he prompted, his blue eyes opening suddenly to catch her looking at him. He smiled slightly at her, then closed his eyes again.
"See, Cordelia was mad at Buffy, and me and Xander too, I guess. Um...well, I won't go into the reasons. But she made a wish, and then everything changed. I was a vampire--"
"WHAT!" Spike exclaimed, eyes popping wide open to stare in amazement at the seemingly innocent girl laying next to him.
"Okay, well, not *really* a vampire, but there *was* a vampire me. A vampire version of me, I mean, in an alternate universe." Willow covered her face with her hands and groaned in frustration. "Crap, I'm just not any good at telling stories, Spike. I mean, I never know where to start."
Spike sat up and gently pulled her hands away from her face, holding them loosely in his own. "Just start at the beginning, Willow, and the rest will follow along easily enough."
The beginning, she thought. Well as usual, the beginning really had everything to do with Spike and very little else.
Willow looked back at the blond vampire and began again. "It all started when you kidnapped Xander and me, remember, when you wanted me to do that love spell? Well, we thought that you were going to kill us, and that it might be our last moment ever, so we..."
~Part: 18~
Spike watched Willow's face as she told her tale. His eyes were riveted to her expressive face and he devoured the emotions that passed through her eyes as told him what had happened after he had left her alone with the boy, all those years ago. The thought of Chubbs actually touching his Gal made the vampire irate. How could she have ever been interested in the moron? He was...well, he was a moron. That's all there was to it. Sure, he was loyal enough, and on occasion he could be mildly amusing, but other than that, did the boy have *any* redeeming qualities? Spike didn't think so.
When she told him the part about how they got tossed into that alternate reality, Spike was more than a little intrigued. The thought of a vampire version of this small, shy girl interested him quite a bit. He could almost see her in his mind's eye: confident, radiant, cruel and beautiful. He immediately had to distract his libido. As a last resort, he pictured the watcher, naked, singing badly; the ex-demon and Chubbs kissing; the Slayer, doing what she did best: being a bitch. Anything to keep himself from getting too visibly aroused.
And the bit about 'Puppy', well that was sheer beauty. He laughed heartily as she told him of the things that the 'other' Willow had done to her puppy. How the blond wished that Peaches were here right now, if only to see the look on his face when he heard the tale.
Finally Willow finished her story, and in the ensuing silence Spike thought about what she had told him. To be honest, he was rather torn. One part of him wanted to beg her forgiveness for what he had done to her and what it had led to. Another part wanted to compliment her on the wonderful demon she would make. But he knew that was probably *not* the best road to take. In the end, he settled for a simple apology.
"I'm sorry, Willow," he said, his brilliant blue eyes riveted to her sparkling green ones.
The slight girl next to him was shocked. Spike had apologized? To her? That was something she had never expected to happen, not in a million years. Yet she could see in his eyes that he really had meant it. What did that mean?
"Th-that's all right," she replied a little breathlessly. "I mean, it was pretty scary at the time, but we made it out all right, didn't we?" She tried to make her voice matter-of-fact, denying the uncertainty and surprise she was feeling. Spike had been different the last couple of days, and she was still trying to figure out exactly why that was. "It *was* kind of unnerving, though, seeing myself like that. I mean, if I was turned into a vampire now, is that what I'd really be like?"
"I bet you were beautiful, all pale and leather-clad and strong," he told her softly, trying to compliment her and also trying to derail her train of thought.
"More like skanky and slightly gay, I think," she shot back at him, her skin blushing slightly as she felt his eyes cover her skin like a caress.
"Vampires aren't gay, luv," he told her, smiling slightly.
"Yuh-huh," she insisted, her voice argumentative, "She most definitely was! With the sniffing, and the licking, and the hands in bad places, and--and--everything! Definitely gay." Her tone brooked no argument, but Spike had to smile none-the-less.
"Vampires are bisexual, Willow. That's just the way we are." He wasn't sure if she was ready to hear this, but he wanted to be honest with her. Not that honesty was always the best policy, especially for him. It usually ended up with someone getting angry. But for some reason he just wanted to be straight with her, no pun intended. "We'll screw pretty much anything, male or female, or in-between. It's about pleasure, but it's also about being in control."
Control, Willow thought, her eyes pensive. She really did want to understand, but she just didn't. "Why is control so important? I mean, yeah, I like to be in control of my life, but there are so many things that are beyond our control. You just have to let it go sometimes, or you go crazy."
"With control comes power," he told her. "And power is very important in our society. For some humans too, although not all of them. It's like this," he began, as he stretched languidly and got to his feet, full of fluid motion and predatory grace.
He paced the room, his ears catching the quiet sounds of the watcher and the ex-demon upstairs as they began to ready the shop for customers. As he walked, he saw the quiet girl's eyes follow his body and the sound of his voice. Her eyelids were starting to become heavy, she stifled the occasional yawn, but for now she was hanging onto his every word.
"Okay, so you humans, you define yourselves in a number of ways, right?" He looked over at Willow and saw her small nod of agreement. "You define yourselves by what you do for a living, or how much money you make, or what you own. And you treat each other accordingly. Well, not all of you," he conceded, "but a lot of humans do."
Spike looked over at Willow again, making sure he was still the center of her attention. Cor, she was beautiful, he thought. Her bright, curious eyes were drowsy; her fiery red hair framed her pale fragile face like a picture frame. He mentally kicked himself again, still amazed that he had never recognized the intoxicating combination of her beauty, her intelligence and her spirit.
He continued on, his voice taking more of a professorial tone, "Vampires, on the other hand, don't work. Well, with the exception of that one souled git in L.A.," he added snidely. That git in L.A. was the exception to a *lot* of rules. Spike wondered idly what Angel would think of his interest in the little redhead. Probably think it was wonderfully ironic, the lean vampire thought bitterly. But, he hastened to remind himself, his little beauty was *not* the slayer. She was a powerful witch, with an intellect and an inquisitive nature to match her beauty. Definitely not your run-of-the-mill human, much less a slayer. He shuddered slightly at the thought.
"But other than him," he added, back on track, "we don't work. No point in it, really. We can get whatever we want, whenever we want, by taking it. Well, unless we're stuck with a soddin' chip in our head," he said, his lips twisting bitterly, momentarily sidetracked again.
Willow watched the pacing vampire with growing understanding. When the initiative had chipped him, they had taken away more than just his ability to eat. They had taken away everything that he was, everything that defined him, at least in his own eyes. She saw now that what he needed was a new way to define himself, a new framework upon which to build his self-esteem and self-worth.
Spike watched the young girl's eyes as they flitted to somewhere far away from this room and their conversation. What was she thinking about so earnestly, he wondered? Had his words had an affect on her, sending her mind off on a tangent of some sort?
"So the more power you have over others, the more control you have over yourself, and the less control others have over you," Willow said, showing that she understood what he was trying to tell her.
"Exactly, pet," he agreed, watching as she covertly tried to smothered yet another yawn. "Tired?" he asked sympathetically.
"Hmmmm," was his only answer, as she closed her eyes briefly.
"Me too," he admitted, walking back to the big bed and looking down at Willow appraisingly. "You're welcome to take a nap, if you want," he told her. "I'll join you, if you're okay with that," he added, uncharacteristically hesitant.
She looked at him as if she were considering something, and then nodded briefly, as if he had passed some sort of test. She obviously had some misgivings about the idea, but was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.
"I promise, your virtue's safe with me," he said, giving her a slight smile and a wink. "And if the watcher or the ex-demon come down, I'll tell them that I promised to keep you safe, so they'd better leave you alone. Right?" he asked, his grin growing to match the one that graced her face as well.
"Shut up and go to sleep," Willow told him, still grinning, before she turned her back towards him and worked determinedly on falling asleep.
Spike spread out on his half of the bed, a light-hearted smile still on his face. Maybe she didn't trust him completely, but this was certainly a good start. As he drifted off to sleep, he laid out his hand out gently against her shoulder, the contact strangely calming.
~Part: 19~
Buffy sauntered into the Magic Box, looking for a familiar face. When she spied Xander relaxing in one of the comfortable chairs, she made a beeline for him, a worried look on her pretty face.
"Xander, have you heard anything from Willow today?" she asked nervously. She hadn't seen her friend at school that morning, and when she had called the redhead's house several times earlier that afternoon she had received no answer. Everyone knew that missing a day of school was completely out of character for the overzealous student, so that, combined with the fact that Buffy had been unable to reach her by phone, was setting off some major alarm bells in the petite blonde's head.
"Nope, I haven't seen hide nor shoulder-length red hair," Xander replied matter-of-factly. "Are you sure she didn't just decide to take a day off of school for some extra shut-eye? She *has* been keeping some rather late hours these days."
Buffy didn't even dignify that question with an answer. They both knew that a lack of sleep would hardly slow their friend down. She seemed to manage to thrive with a schedule that would turn any normal person into a sleep-deprived zombie. The blonde merely rolled her eyes at the young boy to acknowledge the ridiculousness of his answer and then began pacing.
"Yeah, I guess even *I* can't believe that she'd take a day off just for some sleep," he added regretfully.
"So what was the last anyone saw of her, Xan? Did she go patrolling with you guys last night?"
"Uh, yeah." Xander thought back to the previous evening. She and Spike had gone out to patrol together, and that was the last that anyone had seen of either of them. Of course, nobody had actually been looking, so that was not surprising. Surely Spike would have made sure she had gotten home safely. If not because of concern for her physical safety, at least because he knew that Buffy would kick his ass if anything happened to Willow. In a way, she was the glue that held them all together, and they were well aware of that fact.
"She and Spike went out to cover the east side of town, while Giles and I took care of the west side. I'm sure that if something had happened to her, Spike would have let us know, right?" the boy asked. "Well, probably, at any rate," he mumbled a bit more uncertainly. A little bit of the nervousness that was emanating from his friend was now making its way into Xander's mind. The thoughts he was thinking now were *not* of the warm and fluffy variety.
Buffy was in full panic mode by now, and quickly headed towards the stairs leading down to Spike's apartment. "I don't know if he would nor not, but I'm not going to stand around wondering, especially when Willow's life could be at risk." She quickly flew to the door at the bottom of the stairs, Xander close on her heels.
They approached the door into Spike's bedroom, and instead of knocking and waiting for a reply, Buffy, with her usual direct manner, knocked once and then walked right on in. Xander, standing directly behind her, smacked straight into the slayer's back as she stopped dead in her tracks, literally frozen to the spot by the sight that greeted her shocked and bewildered eyes. Willow, her sweet, shy, GAY friend Willow, was sound asleep in the arms of the peroxide pain in her ass, also known as Spike, or William the Bloody.
As she watched in horror, Spike yawned and opened his eyes, stretching his arms over his head languidly before putting them around the little redhead again. He started slightly when he noticed his audience, but immediately relaxed and gave the Buffy and her friend a big, happy smile.
"Guess the watcher didn't waste any time trainin' you on how to be polite, huh? Must not have been in the handbook, I'd wager." The words came out sounding more pleasant than intended, so he added, "What do you want, slayer? Can't you see I'm busy?" then added one of his trademark smirks, as he looked over at the peacefully sleeping girl beside him.
Xander, who had been surveying the scene from behind Buffy, was slowly opening and closing his mouth in shock. If Willow had actually been awake to see him, it would have reminded her of the time that she, Xander and Jesse had spied on Cordelia and a neighbor boy playing doctor. Both Xander and Jessie had been shocked and surprised to find out that girls did, indeed, have different "parts" than boys did. Willow, of course, had seen all the drawings and medical texts, thanks to her parents. For the next several days, both boys had imitated open-mouthed bass every time they had run in to Queen C. While Willow had been rather jealous that Cordelia had been the center of their male attention, she *did* get a heck of a laugh every time she looked at their faces.
Finally Xander's brain and his vocal chords kicked in, and a strangled croak that sounded something like "Willow!" slipped from his mouth.
Somehow the sound roused the sleeping beauty and her ginger eyelashes began to flutter erratically. "Ummmm," was the first sound out of her mouth. Then her eyes opened completely, and a parade of emotions crossed her so-very-expressive face. Confusion and shock made an appearance, quickly to be replaced by embarrassment as she noticed how comfortably she had nestled herself onto the chest of the handsome vampire next to her. Then a movement at the door caught her eye, and she realized that she and Spike weren't quite as alone as she had thought.
"Uh, hi, guys," she greeted them sheepishly, her eyes still half-closed and sleepy.
Buffy shook herself out of her stunned stupor and marched right over to the reclining vampire. A stake slid smoothly into her hand from a concealed spot up her sleeve, and while the other three occupants of the room watched her, she held the wooden projectile just inches above the blond's heart.
"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't make you a pile of dust right now," she exclaimed through tightly gritted teeth. Rage was building in her eyes, and every second that the demon below her failed to quiver in fear made her just that much angrier. Was he really so stupid that he believed she wouldn't do it, the enraged girl wondered?
Willow saw the approaching confrontation and knew that it wouldn't end well. Quickly, before Buffy had a chance to do any damage, she forced the words out of her mouth: "Buffy, Xander, it's not what it looks like!"
Then she stopped abruptly, and asked a little uncertainly, "Well, at least I don't think it is. What does it look like, really?"
"It looks like you're taking after Buffy and boffing the undead. What *is* it with you girls and dead guys? Does a guy have to lose a lung to rate a look from you two?"
Willow giggled softly, then smiled as she said, "Pot calling the kettle black, Xander? You forget who you've dated. You've hardly made a career out of dating the living yourself. Well, I guess technically Anya is alive, but you know what I mean. There was mummy-girl, and praying-mantis woman, and ..." she added in typical Willow-speak, her voice trailing off as Xander shot her a slightly annoyed look.
"And anyway, if Spike and I want to sleep together, well, then, that's none of your business," she told him, crossing her arms in front of her, her voice defiant and her dark eyes flashing green fire.
"Willow!" The sound of three voices raised in shock reverberated around the room. For Xander and Buffy, it was the shock of their worst fears now being confirmed. For Spike, on the other hand, it was the shock and delight that this wonderful creature was just as devious as she was beautiful.
~Part: 20~
The occupants of the room were silent and shocked. Willow looked from face to face, each one appeared frozen for an instant that seemed to go on forever. 'I don't think I've ever managed to shut everyone up like that all at once before,' she thought proudly.
Then came the inevitable reactions. Buffy raised her stake hand up to get leverage, planning on using it to pierce the vampire's cold heart. Spike, oblivious to his impending death--his real death this time--was envisioning the beautiful fiery redhead tied up on his bed while he showed her how much fun those chains above his bed really *could* be.
Xander, for his part, was still in near-catatonic shock, eyes closed, hands over his ears. And she wasn't *positive*, but Willow have sworn she could see him mouthing the words "I caaan't hear you, I caaan't hear you."
Finally the one who had started all this trouble in the first place decided that she couldn't let Buffy kill Spike just because of a few ill-chosen words on her part. After all, she wasn't *really* sleeping with Spike. Well, she was sleeping with him, but she wasn't *sleeping* with him, not like that. In fact, the poor demon was probably feeling pretty freaked himself right now, she suspected.
She grabbed the oblivious vampire by the shoulder and did a combination drag/roll so that he was safely on the other side of her and out of the path of Buffy's favorite stake. Unfortunately, gravity and momentum were not her friends at the moment, and when the redhead let go of the blond, he just kept rolling, right off the bed and down onto the floor, where he landed with a solid thud.
Willow gave him an apologetic look and ignored the growing anger in his expression, before turning her attention back to her best friend, who was attempting to talk some sense into her.
"Willow, I don't know what he did to you, but we can take care of it. Trust me. Maybe it was some sort of spell, or some weird vampire thrall thing, or--I don't know, just something else. But let me help you. Just one little prick and he'll be out of our lives for good." The blonde giggled at her phrasing, but she was serious about her intentions.
"My prick is NOT little, I'll have you know," Spike yelled angrily, finally having a better target on which to vent his anger. He couldn't get mad at his Gal, not really. She had just been trying to defend him against that psychotic, stake-wielding bottle-blonde. The Slayer though, making comments about his manhood and such, well, she was fair game. He stood up slowly, rage making his crystal blue eyes darken perceptibly. He'd probably have the migraine of the century and be unconscious for days, but it would be well worth it.
"Buffy, this is a mistake. I mean--I made a mistake." Willow could see that this was going from bad to worse in record time, and as Spike got to his feet, Buffy was heading straight towards him, stake out and at the ready. She could see that her earlier words were having no effect on the situation, so she stood, wincing slightly as she put her weight on her still-weak ankle. Moving as quickly as she could, she put herself between the two enemies and tried again. Taking a deep breath and yelling as loudly as she could, she confessed, "I didn't sleep with Spike!"
Again, that stunned silence. Xander, at least, seemed to be getting a grasp on reality. He lifted his hands from his ears and looked at his oldest friend, a plea in his eyes. "Really, Wills?"
She held out a hand, and he put his own in hers and drew her into a big bear hug. "Really, Xander. But if I had," she continued softly, "It would have been nobody's business but mine, and Spike's. I'm not a little kid anymore, Xan. I'm all growed up, ya know?" she reminded him, slipping into the childish words they had used when they were little in an effort to show him how much their lives had changed.
Xander sniffled a little, trying to act like the grown up that he knew he was supposed to be. "I know, Willow, I know. I'm sorry I acted so silly. It's just, you, and Spike, and sex, and well, it couldn't help but end badly. And I would hate for you to be hurt."
Sensing that the insulted vampire was about to protest, Willow turned and gave him a warning look, and then a grateful one as he subsided.
Buffy, who was still looking like she wanted to stake someone, *anyone*, put her hand on her friend's arm in an effort to get her attention. "Let me get this straight," she said somewhat aggressively, "You're *not* sleeping with Spike, right? Really, really, not sleeping with him. And you're not just saying this so I won't dust him?"
"No, Buffy, I'm really really not sleeping with him," she said, and it almost seemed for a moment that there was a wistful quality to her voice. At least the blond vampire hoped that there was. "And," the redhead continued, "I'm not just saying it so you won't dust him. I promise."
The three friends, and the poor vampire who was beginning to feel like an outsider in his own home, looked at each other with varying amounts of suspicion and relief. Then Spike had a thought.
"Why the bloody hell did you come barging in here in the first place, anyway?" he asked his two uninvited guests.
"We were worried about Willow. Nobody had seen her, and she hadn't been at school, and well, this being the Hellmouth, it never hurts to be sure where your friends are," Buffy answered. "Your enemies either, for that matter," she added with a pointed look, meeting the vampire's eyes.
"Er, well, I'm good, guys, and thanks, see ya later," Willow chirped, trying to act cheerful, as if nothing had happened.
"So, I answered your question, fangless," Buffy said rather pointedly, staring back at Spike, "But you never did explain why Willow was in your room all night, and most of the day too."
Before the two adversaries could get into another heated argument, Willow thought it would be best to tell Buffy what she wanted to know. Even though it went against her whole newly established 'I can do whatever I want and it's nobody's business but my own' policy, she knew that her friends had been worried about her, and some kind of an explanation would only be considerate.
"I hurt my ankle last night, see," she said, pointing down to the bandaged ankle, "So Spike took me back here and patched me up. And by the time he was done, it was too late to get me home without him turning into a big ol' dust bunny, so he let me crash here. And then, well, we were talking, and then I got tired, so he let me sleep on his bed, and then I did, and then you guys came in and found me, and then, well, this," she said, the speed of her words gaining momentum as she continued, until the last few words came out in a jumbled, breathless rush.
"Willow," Buffy exclaimed, "You should have just called me. One of us could have been down here in no time at all and we could have gotten you back to your place. There's no reason you had to stay here with the bleached wonder."
Spike growled slightly, but Willow ignored him. "Buffy, there was no reason to call you. Spike took good care of me, see?"
"Yeah, such good care of you that when we walked in, you were snuggling together like--like--" Xander seemed at a loss for words, but finally came up with an apt analogy, "Like a couple of snuggle-bunnies," he finished triumphantly.
"Bloody hell, can't you three take this upstairs?" Spike exclaimed angrily. "It's bad enough that I have Slutty here busting in whenever she feels like it, but does a man--er, make that a demon, have to sit here and be insulted in his own home?"
"Spike's right," Willow said, looking at Buffy and Xander. "He didn't do anything to deserve this. He really was trying to help me. Maybe I cuddled up to him in my sleep. If he doesn't have a problem with it, then neither should anyone else. I mean, it's *his* reputation that's at risk by this. Imagine what would happen if the other demons thought he was sleeping with a human. Probably kick him out of the weekly poker games and everything!"
"Girl's got a point," he grumbled to the rest of them, "Demon's got a reputation to protect, dammit."
"Fine," said Buffy, sliding her stake back up her arm and sheathing it again, and then heading back upstairs, Xander trailing in her wake. "Come on, Willow, let's get you out of here so Mister Demon can salvage his reputation."
"I'll be right behind you guys," Willow called up to her friends' retreating backs. She waited until she could hear their footsteps walking across the floor of the shop, and then turned to look at the vampire. He was standing at the foot of the bed, a pensive look on his face, as his eyes searched hers for answers.
"Why are you still here, luv? Shouldn't you be following your little friends' lead and running away from the big bad vamp as quickly as you can?" The words came out quietly, but there was an edge of sarcasm and bitterness that Willow picked up on, even as Spike tried to hide it.
"I wanted to thank you, of course," she replied matter-of-factly, as if it was something she had done a thousand times. "Thank you for taking care of me, for listening to my stories, for being nice to me, and for not trying to attack Buffy, although I know you really, *really* wanted to," she added the last bit with a grin.
She watched his face while she spoke, and was relieved to see his lips quirk upwards in a shared grin. "Any time, Willow." He thought for a moment, trying to figure out how to word what he was going to say next. "I know we've never really been friends," he began awkwardly, his eyes looking everywhere but at the girl next to him, "But I don't really have anything against you," he practically mumbled, his words and attitude uncertain.
"I don't really have anything against you either," she said, tilting her head slightly and giving him a shy smile, before she turned and left the room to join her friends.