~Part One~

The dust seemed to scream around him, swirling away the last vestiges of love and devotion that the vampire had ever known, ceased to exhist. Fury past red, past all bounds the demon knew welled up into his being, forcing a feral scream to tear through his throat. Spike grabbed the startled girl by the hand that held the stake, with a SNAP her wrist broke, and the stake fell silently into the ash and grass. The Slayer screamed, rushing the vampire, threatening, with her weapon upraised. Spike maintained his grip on the girl and backhanded the Slayer to the ground. Removing a knife from his duster he pinned her shoulder with the knife, kicking her ribs in until he heard the satisfying crack of bone.

"No...No.."

He turned his attention back to the sobbing girl. "C'mon." He growled, grabbing her by the hair, dragging her along.

"NOOO!" She let a scream pierce the night.

Spike snarled. She would scream, and suffer, and beg for death. He punched her unconcious cruelly smiling as her lip spilt on the first punch,her skin bruised on the second, her nose cracked and bled on the third. The screaming stopped, and she slumped over. Spike hauled her to his shoulder, turning from the fight to the darkness that held his car. Willow's head flopped as he carried her, not that Spike cared. His Dark Princess was dust and the witch was responsible. He would make sure she was sorry for it. And, she would be.
 

~Part Two~

Willow ripped another strip from her ever shortening shirt, and started binding her wrist tighter. Her new wounds would just have to wait a little longer to be attended to. The witch winced as her darkly bruised flesh stung as the cloth made contact. Two weeks and her wrist was worsening, not to mention her daily blood loss was not making it easy for her body to rebound. Magical meditations could only go so far, and she'd never successfully fell into a healing trance, which of course could be even more dangerous than the magick itself, with a vengeful vampire around.

Willow leaned her head against the dusty wall and sighed. She'd been unconscious when Spike had driven away with her, and she never even knew when they had arrived, so time and place was a mystery. She had faith, hours, or was it days ago that Buffy and the Scoobies would appear and rescue her, but now it was all traced in the dust, her trust in rescue drying like the blood on her neck. Spike hadn't raped her, at least not yet, he preferred to twist her wrist, bite her, slap her, beat her, and tell her stories about the vampire she had 'murdered'. Willow swirled the dust beneath her fingertips, waiting. He always came to her as the sun was rising, the smell of night still fresh on his dead skin. He always wrinkled his nose in disgust at her state. She hadn't eaten, hadn't used a real bathroom, save the corner, and hadn't bathed. The house was echoing sounds now, sharp orders being barked by the British master.

* Will it be tonight?* She wondered, her body slumping to the cool wood, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

*Will he kill me tonight? Will I die?*

The door was wrenched open and Willow examined the boots in front of her. They weren't Spike's, she had been at his feet long enough to know what they looked like.

"Master!Master! She's not awake like you said....her eyes are all glazed over like..."

"She's dying sir." A factual British voice commented, not at all like Spike's.

Spike entered the room, his face set in a deep scowl. The odor of the room was fowl, even to his senses that were acustomed to the scent of blood and death. His expression grew more sour as he stared at the redhead, hating her in her weakness. He wanted her to die, he wanted her dead hating him, her goodly soul stained with a blackness that wasn't cause of a demon. Spike felt the hair on the back of his neck rise as whispers and giggles filled his thoughts.

~Play with the tree my Spike....make her weep...let the tree fall into the water, just like when Ophelia drowned...let the love permeate...that will break and drown the tree...play with her my Spike....~ Drusilla's voice encouraged.

Spike slightly smirked, squatting down before his prisoner.

Willow flicked her eyes up at him, silently asking, wondering. *Are you done with me?* She read confusion in his eyes, and a small smile graced her features before she fell unconscious.

Spike snarled in fury. She was mocking him! His eyes narrowed, he was not one to be laughed at. Angelus would have snapped her neck, Spike would do much worse. His princess still guided him, and he would listen as he always had. He snapped to his feet.

"Take her to my room. Call a doctor, and get one of our humans to bring her food." Spike turned on his heel, snarling under his breath, leaving the
stench-tainted cell.

The minion he had given orders to nodded pertly, and began pointing. "Pick her up! Gently! Master wants her cared for a reason, and I will tell him if you have injured his human further....."
 

~Part Three~

Willow thought she was dreaming. The thought of heaven briefly crossed her mind, but she couldn't fathom that option with her Judeo-Pagan background. Just in case she was dreaming, Willow decided to keep her eyes closed. She was warm, and comfortable. There wasn't a hard floor beneath her, no raw smell of human waste. Her wrist throbbed slightly, but not in the excruciating pain the witch had been living with. Finally, willing to despell the dream, Willow opened her eyes, and blinked. And blinked again. She was tucked safely in a mound of dark green sheets and a
overstuffed feather comforter. The bed wasn't a medieval styling that she would expect, instead it was a simple black framed bed, made of steel. There was a movement in the shadows of the room, and Willow shrank into the blankets closing her eyes. The shadow came closer, nearer.

Willow's  wrist flew up, *My bandaged wrist??*, the redhead realized, opening her eyes.

"Are you in pain?" A game faced vampire asked.

"Am I in....pain?" Willow murmured hesitantly. *Why, are you going to ask me if I want some? Oh yes, please sir can I have some more??* "Ohhh.." Willow held her head.

"Are you in pain?" The minion dully repeated.

Willow knit her brows in confusion. "No?" She questioned.

It seemed to satisfy the minion, who started to turn back to his seat when another thought occurred to him. "Are you hungry?" He asked

Again Willow was puzzled. "Yes." She replied tentatively.

The minion nodded and reached for the phone beside the bed. "Master. The woman is hungry." He nodded, and then replaced the receiver. "Food shall be brought to you. Master also told me to tell you that the phone only dials within the house. It has no outside access." Having delivered his
message, the vampire returned to his seat in the shadows.

Willow leaned back into the pillows, taking mental stock. She was warm, in a bed, comfortable, her injuries attended to, and she was clean. *And I'm being brought food? I was being tortured by Spike nightly, and suddenly I'm delegated to the role of guest?* The thought of the implications made her even more wary of the blonde Master.

A soft tap sounded on the door, and the minion lumbered to unlock the door and admit the tapper. Willow examined the fruit and yogurt tray excitedly. Yet, even more interesting was the bearer of the tray, a small petite girl about the age of ten. The minion nodded politely to her, left the room, locking the door behind him.

"Here." The girl set the tray on Willow's lap, arranging the pillows behind her back.

Willow swallowed, trying not to devour the food in front of her. She lost miserably. When the last of the fruit crammed its way down her esophagus, she asked the question that had been on the tip of her tongue.

"Who are you?"

The girl swept  her long black hair from her equally black eyes. "Moira." She spoke gently.

"But, who are you, how did you get here?" Willow asked.

The girl titled her head. "I am my mummy's daughter, where else shall I go?" Moira answered simply, retrieving the tray to place it on the night table.

"Who is your Mother?" Willow pressed.

The girl blinked, and moved another strand of hair. "Drusilla." She answered simply.
 

~Part Four~

Willow resisted the urge to scream. *they couldn't have turned a child, there isn't a way Drusilla could have had a child...no no no...* "Are you sure?" Willow forced her voice to be gentle.

The girls black eyes narrowed. "Drusilla raised me. Kept me. I was her little girl."

"But you are human." Willow pointed out.

Moira smoothed her silk gown, primly and properly sitting on the edge of the bed. "Mummy told me that my human parents were very naughty indeed, so she punished them, kept me...because I laughed as she killed them." A small smile graced the girls face, then she frowned. "But Spike says you've killed my Mummy, and she's nothing but dust and ashes."

For the first time, staring into Moira's dark eyes, Willow felt guilty. "She was going to kill my best friend." Willow swallowed, replaying the fight in her
mind.

Drusilla had Buffy by the throat, was choking her, and Willow just raced, stake held high.....POOF! Spike roared...there was pain..and..tears flooded the witches eyes. She became mutely aware of Moira's small hand stroking her hair, urging her to sleep. "I'm sorry Moira." Willow whispered.

"You'll make amends." The little girl murmured.

Willow fell asleep beneath Moira's ministrations, relaxing into the pillows. The girl delicately hopped off the bed and tapped on the door. The minion allowed her out, and re locked himself in.

"What do you think Pet?"

Moira jumped as Spike emerged from the shadows. "She's a sweetling. I made her cry Spike. Salty tears thats that Mummy never loosed. She said she was sorry. Is she Spike?"

Spike stared down at the child that had amused his Dark Princess so. Moira was unlike any child Spike had known, living or dead. Perhaps thats why he had kept her. Spike picked her up swiftly and deposited her in a room that would make any child swoon. "She will be." He murmured, leaving.

Moira climbed beneath her silken covers, clutching a porcelain doll. "Oh yes Ms. Edith, my red Mummy will be sorry." She whispered, giggling.
 

~Part Five~

"But mummy...I want a pony!" The little black haired girl danced around the tea table, as her mother strained to contain her laughter as she poured a cupful of tea for her husband.

"Determined isn't she?" Her husband joked.

"She always has been, you know that."

Willow watched from the side of the room, wiping her cleaning cloth around the vase. She  knew that she didn't belong here, but she seemed not to be able to realize where she was supposed to be exactly. She continued with her duties, and that was to take care of the Lyon household. She adjusted her apron, and continued cleaning the room.

"Moira, you must be good today, we're having guests to tea." Mrs. Lyon admonished her three year old daughter.

"Shall they bring me a pony?" Moira asked.

"No sweetling. Daddy told you when you are bigger you shall have your pony." Mr. Lyon tickled his daughter.

"I hope this deal with Mr & Mrs. Williams goes well." His wife mentioned, giving Moira a cookie.

He nodded. "This merger would create a great deal of revenue for the business."

The doorbell rang. "Meghan, will you go let Mr. & Mrs. Williams in?" Mrs. Lyon rose, composing herself.

"Yes ma'am." Willow nodded, going down a hallway she had never seen before.

*What is going on? What am I doing here? Now am I stuck in a bad rerun of 'father knows best?'* She muttered, opening the door to the front of the house. Bright blonde hair shocked her to her senses, as well as his companion...a supposed dusty member of the walking undead.

"Mr. & Mrs. Lyon are expecting you in the Library Mr. & Mrs. Williams, please come in." Willow heard herself say.

Spike and Drusilla exchanged a glance, and Drusilla smiled, patting Willow's face. "Pretty." She murmured.

"Show us the way luv." Spike motioned, pulling Dru thru the threshold.

Willow turned her back, leading the killers to the library. Moira was playing with her blocks on the floor, and she looked up giggling as Mr & Mrs.
Williams were shown in.

"Glad you could make it!" Mr. Lyon greeted Spike jovially, shaking his hand.

"Your health is looking even more delicate Drusilla, are you sure you won't see my personal physician?" Mrs. Lyons cooed, leading the vampra to the couch.

Dru didn't respond, just smiled softly motioning to Moira to come closer. The little girl giggled, and kneeled close to the vampire.  "Have you been good for your Mummy?" She asked.

Moira nodded exuberantly. "Daddy isn't getting me my pony though, have you brought it?"

Drusilla ran her hands through Moira's dark locks. "I will bring you a present....full of red...and.."

"So Lyon, shouldn't we get this thing going?" Spike interrupted.

"Ah...yes...well the lawyers have gone through everything, and the monies should be in your account by electronic transfer tomorrow. I wish you weren't leaving for the States so soon, Destiny and I were looking forward to having you as our guests."

Drusilla rose, her arm entwined around Destiny Lyon's waist. "Spike and I already have decided we like you. Haven't we?"

"Yes pet, we like them a lot." Spike grinned.

Willow felt the need to scream, trapped in this bad memory of someone else's demise. She couldn't make a sound, only stand until she was called for by her employers.

The demons came to the fore...and the humans started to scream.

Willow wanted to cover her eyes as Spike taunted Mr. Lyons with the knowledge he had fueled a killing spree in the United States. Drusilla plagued Destiny with tales of stars and women in dresses. Lesions appeared on the humans skin from nails and teeth...and slowly the floor began to stain red.

"Its a game! A pretty game...ohhh mummy...soo pretty red!" Moira giggled from the floor, clasping her hands.

Drusilla dropped Mrs. Lyon to the floor, sweeping over to the laughing sprite.

"Morsel isn't frightened Spike." She whispered, lowering herself to the girls level.

Moira sobered, staring at the blood staining the vampire's face...her coal black eyes flicked to her mother's dead body, and slowly she reached twords Drusilla's face. The vampra purred as Moira wiped the blood from her face, and smeared it across her own mouth.

"Pretty." The three year old breathed, wrapping her arms around the insane vampire's neck.

"Pet..." Spike warned.

Drusilla stood with the child in her arms, growling a warning to her mate.

Willow's character at this point decided it would be beneficial to start screaming. The last thing she knew, Meghan felt pain somewhere in her stomach, and was watching her inner organs coming out. A wafty voice of a three year old was in hysterics, laughing at the 'mess Meghan made'.

The witch shot straight up in bed, her breath coming in gasps. She had just seen what had happened to Moira, what Drusilla had taken, not only her life, but her innocence. Willow's eyes focused into inky blackness.

"Did you have a bad dream?" The blackness asked, crawling forward, closer to Willow on the bed.

"Just a nightmare Moira." Willow comforted herself, drawing the girl into her arms.

"Mummy always said that when I had a bad dream, it was something telling me what to do, I just had to listen." Moira whispered confidentially.

"What do your dreams tell you Moira?"

"That I will kill." The girl mumbled, falling asleep.

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