Pairing: Willow/William(Spike), mention of Willow/Oz, Oz/Veruca
Rating: pg 13 to be safe.
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone from BtVS. Response to Knightie's Jack the Ripper challenge.
Distribution: Bite Me, WLS, NHA, WWW, Knightie, anyone else please ask. note: Begins season 4, post Wild at Heart.
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~Part: 1~
She could still see them every time she closed her eyes. Laying there in the cage, their bodies naked and showing faint bruises and scrapes, the sort that could have come from fighting or from extremely violent sex. A small cynical part of her wondered if it had been from both. If somehow, Oz's wolf had craved the violence that had clearly taken place. If it was inevitable that she wouldn't be enough for him. Just like she had never been enough for anyone else in the past. She had never been pretty enough for Xander to notice her until she had been dating Oz. When he had finally noticed her, it had nearly been the death of his girlfriend Cordelia, literally.
Xander had finally noticed that his 'bestest bud Wills' was actually a girl. Their stolen kisses had lead to Willow trying to cast a de-lusting spell, which had meant that Spike had happened to see her in the magic store and had happened to decide to kidnap her and Xander because his insane girlfriend had dumped his bleached blond sorry... well, Dru had left him, and he had decided to kidnap her and Xander. She was supposed to cast a love spell on Dru, and Xander was Spike's insurance. If the spell didn't work, he had threatened to kill Xander. Spike had gone out claiming he would get the ingredients for the spell, and while he was gone, Xander had decided that they should have one last kiss before dying. Predictably, that was right when the rescue party of Oz and Cordelia had arrived. Cordelia had fallen through the floor and been impaled on a metal bar. Spike, having accidentally broke up Willow and Xander's relationships, deliberately taunted and mocked Buffy and Angel's tension filled relationship, had left town. With any luck, he had managed to torture Dru back into his arms and bed, so that at least someone had ended up happy.
Xander was miserable now. He and Cordelia had tried, or at least Xander had, but Cordelia had left town after graduation, moving to Los Angeles where she had intended to become a famous actress, to be richer and more influential than her parents had ever been. Xander was now living in his parents basement. He was lonely and miserable, and he still had his hopeless crush on Buffy, and had managed to forget that Willow had once had a hopeless crush on him.
Buffy had lost Angel. The souled vampire had left town because he feared that Buffy was to much temptation for him. He was afraid that if he stayed, their passion would grow too powerful to resist, and he would loose his soul, again. Fearing that possibility, Angel had also left Sunnydale. Willow suspected that he was in Los Angeles as well. If she concentrated on him, she could get a vague idea of how he was, if he was injured, or feeling a particularly strong emotion. It had to be a residual effect of her restoring his soul. She hadn't told him. Angel felt like he was brooding and miserable. It matched her mood perfectly. Pain, guilt, despair, loneliness.... well, maybe not quite as much guilt and a bit more betrayal, but the general feeling was the same.
Oz... he had become fascinated with this female singer for another band. The band had been called Shy, of all the misleading things in the world. He had watched her, wholly focused on Veruca in a way that he'd never focused on Willow. She'd felt hurt, and confused, and jealous. Then, she had found them together. Naked. Reeking of sex. Their bodies entwined together. And had she mentioned the naked?
It had been far simpler dealing with Veruca trying to kill her. Simpler to deal with Oz trying to kill her after killing the Veruca wolf in front of her. That had been simple, fear and dreadful anticipation of pain, and the morbid curiosity of wondering if the wolf would eat her mangled corpse if given enough time. Fear was easy to deal with.
But Oz hadn't even wanted to stay, to try to see if what they'd had could be fixed or rebuilt. He had left, not even telling her goodbye. He was just... gone, with only his things as a sign that he'd ever been. Then those were gone as well. He'd contacted Devon to have his things sent, and hadn't contacted her, hadn't even asked Devon to relay a message, even one as simple as 'I'm alive.' She simply hadn't been important enough to him to care.
Which brought her back to the present. She was laying on her bed, feeling as if her pain and betrayal and misery had ripped out her insides, as if everything happy and bubbly and good had been torn out and should be staining the floor in a gruesome puddle below her, like some sort of psychic disembowelment. She felt as if she had been flattened, and she didn't have the energy to move from her bed. Why bother? What was there out there for her? She had no classes tonight, no date... or any prospects of a date ever again in her future. She could just lay here and be miserable until tomorrow at nine.
There was a knock at the door. It was firm, insistent. It didn't go away when she ignored it.
With a small sigh, Willow decided that whoever it was obviously wasn't going to go away. "Come in."
The door was practically kicked off of the hinges. The doorway was momentarily filled with a silhouette of a man with pale hair that almost looked like it glowed from the harsh light of the hallway. He came into the room in what could only be described as stalking.
She was feeling something besides pain now. Willow felt a trace of fear, cold as rejection and ice trickle down her spine and towards her fingers. Spike was in her dorm-room. "S-s-spike.." She had meant it to be a scream, but it had came out a stammered whisper instead.
"I got a message for your friend the Slayer. I didn't like the hospitality that her commando friends gave me. I'm a bit annoyed by it actually." He was stalking towards Willow, and there was an undertone of growl in his voice. He moved towards her, his face shifting to feral vampire features. "You got a choice now Red. I'm going to kill you. But, you can stay dead, or I can bring you back."
With a sudden flash of understanding, Willow knew that he intended to kill her. "I'll scream..."
He smiled, and the faint light seemed to glitter on his sharp teeth. "Bonus."
That was when things got confusing. He lunged towards her, his fingers seizing her arm with bruising force, and his teeth grazed over her throat. As his fingers closed over her arm, Willow shrieked, and Spike reached out with his other hand, turning up the radio in an effort to drown out her scream. Then, things fell apart. Instead of tearing Willow's throat open and gulping down her hot and terrified blood, Spike howled in pain and his legs gave out, causing him to topple over, effectively pinning Willow to the bed.
In those few panic filled moments of super clarity, Willow noticed just how nicely muscled Spike was. How well all of his parts fit together, and his scent, leather and a hint of cigarettes and something else that could only be Spike. She found herself thinking how smooth his pale skin looked, and wondering if his skin would taste salty if she licked him. Would his mouth taste of blood? She had no idea why she was suddenly looking at Spike as an attractive male instead of as the vampire trying to rip her throat out. Then, he collapsed onto her, and the first thing that Willow noticed was... err... That was nicely put together too, and it was pressing into her hip most firmly.
As Willow's hormones completely ignored both logic and heartache to catalog every single muscular plane of Spike's body, to inhale his scent, her mind realized something. He hadn't actually bit her. She'd felt his fangs, but he hadn't broken her skin.
"It's me, isn't it?" Her voice was a painful whisper.
He looked at her, his eyes blue again. "What do you mean?"
"it's okay, I guess. You weren't really looking for me anyhow. You were looking for Buffy, just like everyone else. But she wasn't here, so you were going to settle. I'm just not the kind of girl that vamps want to sink their teeth into I guess...." Willow's words had trailed off into a pain filled whisper, and tears threatened to fall through her lashes.
Spike looked at her, and suddenly realized that this young woman really believed that he didn't want to bite her. "Nonsense. I'd bite you in a heartbeat. Thought about it last year, when you were in that lilac number and the fuzzy sweater."
Willow looked up, her eyes glittering with what could develop into hope. "Really? I never would have guessed."
With an expression that was almost his usual arrogant smirk, Spike spoke again. "I hate being all fangy and 'grr'. It takes all the mystery out."
"Oh. You played it pretty cool then." She glanced over his close fitting shirt, and found herself blushing. She looked at a loose thread on the blanket. "You could.. umm... try again if you wanted."
With a feral grin, his features again shifted, and he lunged at her throat, his teeth actually leaving little raised lines where they scraped over her skin, and Willow felt herself shiver in mostly fear and a little bit of something else. But again, Spike made this little whimper, and collapsed, clutching his head as if it hurt.
"What did they do to me?" His whisper was filled with pain and confusion. "I can't do it."
"Doesn't this happen to every vampire?" Willow felt this odd urge to comfort Spike. It clearly wasn't his fault that he couldn't bite her.
"Not to me. This shouldn't be happening." Spike's voice carried the undertones of shock, denial, and disbelief.
"Well, we could try again if you wanted..." Willow's voice was low, and soft, as if the words had slipped out without her thinking about what she was actually saying.
"Really? Well then..." With those words, Spike again lunged at her throat.
Willow felt a sharp jolt of fear run through her. His fangs scraped over her throat again, and she could feel little welt lines raise, and feel the faint dampness left from his mouth. Her stomach was fluttering with mostly fear, and a little hint of anticipation. If she was going to die, at least Spike was an attractive... he still hadn't bit her. Fear and years of working with the Slayer rose up, and Willow pushed Spike back, away from her throat.
Suddenly, the lights went out, and she heard her door get kicked open yet again. There was a dark figure moving towards her, not Spike, but someone or something else. She grabbed the lamp by her bed, throwing it at the figure's head, and both she and Spike bolted for the door, and she distinctly recalled stepping on the midsection of another figure. The hallway was filled with smoke, and she lost track of Spike in the confusion.
~Part: 2~
Spike hadn't been able to kill her. Oz was still gone, and there was still no message from him, no anything, as if the earth had opened up and swallowed him whole. Xander and Buffy had both decided that they were tired of hearing about it, tired of hearing about how much it hurt that Oz was gone. Giles... he was to much of a father figure for Willow to feel comfortable pouring out her heart about how her lover had betrayed her, killed the trampy female that he'd cheated on her with and vanished. She couldn't talk about that to Giles, and even if her own parents had been in California, they were practically strangers to her now. They probably didn't realize that she was in college, might not even remember that she had a boyfriend to have cheat on her and run away. Willow had no way to ease her pain.
She was absently flipping through a book, pretending to search for information of a Bekanit demon, or was that Becadit? At the moment, she wasn't certain that she could muster the enthusiasm to care. Another demon wanting to slaughter lots of people to be able to claim it was the biggest and baddest thing that could go bump in the night. She should care about it, really. She sighed, realizing once again that she just couldn't quite see past her pain to worry about the possibility that some nasty, evil demon might be seeking it's next victim at this very moment. Buffy would find it, and kill it, and then expect Willow to listen about how demons were inconsiderate enough to bleed or ooze onto her new clothing. Why Buffy didn't just wear old clothing out to slay was entirely beyond WIllow. Maybe some hold over from her nights of stolen smoochies with Angel on patrols?
Willow sighed, feeling a fragment of annoyance at the Slayer. Buffy didn't want to hear about Willow's pain anymore, saying that Oz had been gone for almost two weeks now, she should be getting over it by now. Then, she would turn around and mope about Angel, who had left almost four months ago, and how it still hurt so badly that he was gone, how she didn't think anything would ever be the same. It made Willow feel oddly understanding of all the demons that wanted to kill Buffy. Except that she knew she didn't have a chance for it, after all, she was human, entirely human and with only her feeble human strength. There would be no contest between her and Buffy. Instead, she had started to practice the delicate art of ignoring someone while appearing to pay attention. Buffy hadn't figured it out yet, although that could be a sign of Buffy's obliviousness as easily as Willow's successful pretense.
There was a pounding on the door of Giles apartment. Willow found herself looking at the door, filled with a vague foreboding, a sense that once the door was opened, something would be set into motion, something important, something that would change everything. She felt her mouth go dry, and her body began to tremble, and even as Giles opened the door blinking at the blanket wrapped figure on his step, she knew who it was. She knew that it was Spike, come to try once more to do what he had intended that night in the dorm, to try to kill Buffy. A small part of her felt a pang, as if the simple fact that she meant nothing to him hurt deeply.
Something was wrong. Why was Spike wrapped in a blanket? Not only that, but it looked tattered, dirty, and scorched, and either the blanket was very thin, or Spike had lost weight. The blanket slipped down from his head, and she couldn't help but gasp at the sight of him. His skin had been pale like porcelain before, now it was waxy, and his cheeks were gaunt, his eyes gleaming with rage and pain from dark shadows, sunk into his skull. He looked as if he had wasted away, shriveling until he resembled one of the ancient preserved mummies from the history channel programs. Or one of Ampata's victims.
"I need you to reverse this, Damn it! This is a level of cruelty that I thought Slayers and the bloody Council were above." Spike's voice held a harsh rasp that was different from how his voice had sounded before. It sounded almost dry, as if something were grating inside. It still carried anger and pain, and an undercurrent of desperation.
Giles stood there, staring at the gaunt vampire on his doorstep. "I have no idea what you are talking about! I haven't done anything to you, nor do I know of any specific cruelty to you."
"Then why can't I feed!?! You had to have done this!" Spike's voice was louder.
Xander glanced around, voicing his opinion. "I think it's an act. He's evil, he's got to be faking it."
Willow spoke, her voice slightly hoarse from the many tears she had been shedding, not so much about Oz leaving her, but for her own pain and loneliness. "No he's not."
"What?" Giles' bafflement was clear.
"He's not faking it. He came to the dorms on the night the power went out. He tried to bite me, said something about a message for Buffy. He couldn't do it. Something wouldn't let him. Besides, why would he let himself get that shriveled if all he wanted to do was kill Buffy? Wouldn't it make more sense to just throw a horde of minions at her on patrol to wear her down, and then get her while she's tired and wounded?" Willow had to defend Spike. She wasn't quite certain why, perhaps the same baffling reason that had caused her to offer to let him try to bite her again in the dorms, but she felt the need to defend him. Besides, anyone should be able to tell that a vampire so starved as to be that gaunt was a weakened vampire. Why try to attack your enemy at such a disadvantage?
"What!! That bleached blond freak was in our room!?! And you didn't tell me! Willow! What were you thinking?" Buffy's voice had a shrill edge of disbelief.
Willow rolled her eyes slightly. "He knocked on the door, I sort of accidentally invited him in, and he tried to bite me. He couldn't do it. The power went out, and these strange things, I think guys in masks came in, and I panicked, ran out, and Spike was gone. You didn't want to hear about why I was upset, remember?"
Giles looked at her, his eyes worried. "What do you mean? How could you accidentally invite him? What, did you accidentally say, oh, do come in, Spike? How could he not bite you?"
Spike staggered through the doorway, swaying on his feet. "Bloody hell... what did you do to me?"
Xander stared at the vampire behind Giles, his mouth opening and closing, a few pitiful squeaks emerging.
Willow watched with an even expression. "Giles, you just accidentally invited him in yourself. Xander's trying to say that he's behind you."
Spike was in fact behind Giles, his features amber eyed and fanged, and he moved towards Giles in what could have been a lunge or simply falling, and ended up on the ground, curled in pain, clutching his head and growling obscenities. Giles made a noise that sounded oddly like a squeak, and stepped back.
Willow stood up, and was actually kneeling beside Spike before it had fully registered with he others, or actually to herself that she had even moved. She brushed her hand over his temple, feeling how fragile and dry his skin was. It reminded her of dry aged parchment, not the almost silken smoothness that she remembered from the dorm. His scent was the same though, leather and cigarettes and Spike. She ran her fingers over his forehead, brushing his hair, with had become tangled and had bits of things caught in it. "Spike? Is it the same thing that happened in the dorm room? The same thing that happened when you tried to bite me?"
"Yeah. Feels like my skull has a bloody lightning storm going through it. Be a hell of a lot simpler to just split it open and be done with it. Just stake me already and let it be over with." His voice was a harsh whisper, as if he couldn't even bear the sound of a normal voice. A single red tear slipped from the eye next to the floor, trickling out of his eye and into his hair.
She looked at him, her face filled with sympathy. "I'm sorry. But, Spike, I really don't think that Buffy or Giles had anything to do with whatever's happened to you. Buffy... she'd rather just stake first, and complain about dust and bloodstains on her cloths later, and Giles wouldn't have been so surprised about your arrival if he'd had any idea about something preventing you from feeding."
~Part: 3~
There had been what had seemed like hours of debate, endless arguing over the idea that something might have happened to render Spike unable to bite people. Xander still thought that it was some sort of devious trick. Buffy was in favor of simply killing Spike now while they had the chance. Giles wanted to know who had done this, since it hadn't been any of them, how it had been done, and what purpose it had served. Anya kept reminiscing about particularly painful sounding vengeance wishes that she had granted when she had still had her powers, some of which actually had a connection to vampires or starvation. While they were debating, Willow managed to get Spike up from the floor, and while everyone else was so busy arguing, she helped him into Giles' bathroom so that he could get himself cleaned up. She promised to find him something clean to change into.
She had found a pair of jeans and a plain white tee shirt, along with a belt in Giles' things that she thought Spike could borrow. The fit would probably be a bit off, but they were clean, which was more than she could say for what he'd been wearing when he arrived. Those things were filthy, including Spike's leather coat, something that she knew he prized, at least as much as he prized any possession. Gingerly, she emptied out his pockets, throwing the jeans, socks and two shirts into he washer, with a generous amount of detergent. Spike apparently didn't believe in underwear, which started part of Willow's mind off along several naughty tangents that had absolutely nothing to do with whatever had prevented him from feeding.
Part of her mind was thinking naughty thoughts about Spike and his lack of underwear. Part of her was thinking naughty thoughts about Spike, naked in the shower, water cascading over his body... A more practical part was debating where to take his leather coat for cleaning, and then she found her attention drawn back to the loud debate over Spike, currently going on between Buffy, Xander and Giles, With Anya muttering something about a man she had once cursed to shrivel and loose weight every time he had sex with someone that wasn't his cast-aside wife, and how he had suffered and wasted away. The intensity of the debate was quite alarming to Willow, and she felt panic at the idea pf Spike dying, or being killed. It was quite unreasonable, especially since he had only tried to kill her in the past. She heard the shower stop, and her mind painted a vivid image of him stepping from he tub, his pale flesh glistening with water, reaching for a towel, his muscles rippling under smooth flesh... an image that was chased away by her recollection of just how thin he had looked earlier. He wouldn't have the same sleek planes of muscle that she had felt in the dorm room. He had lost weight, and had looked almost dried. They would have to help him. She would have to help him.
Quite suddenly, it occurred to Willow that while she was thinking about how to help Spike, her own pain seemed less, almost manageable instead of the overwhelming tide of paint that she was used to. Perhaps, if she helped Spike, it would help her as well. It wasn't as if anything else was helping, or as if she had a large number of people willing to listen to her pain. More accurately, she had nobody, although it was just possible that Spike might be willing to at least pretend to listen in exchange for shelter and blood. She had to find a way to have him stay. Some reason other than her own desires... no, not those desires! Hadn't she already learned about falling for guys who didn't know she was a girl? Hadn't she learned her lesson with Xander? Then, inspiration struck.
"Everyone, I think we need to help him."
The result was chaotic noise and confusion. Buffy and Xander were demanding to know if she had flipped, Giles was wanting to know why she felt that they should support a homicidal vampire, and Anya was wanting to know if the lack of orgasms had caused Willow to slide into irrational behavior.
"Everyone! If you will just shut up, I can explain!" Willow's near shout was full of frustration and annoyance. Everyone fell into stunned silence, staring at her in shock. Even Spike, who was just emerging from the bathroom, now dressed in Giles clothing, which was hanging loosely on his lean frame.
"Can we all accept the fact that he isn't faking? That for some reason, Spike really can't bite people? Okay, good, moving right along, someone has rendered a two hundred year old master vampire unable to feed, thus causing him pain and starvation. We have no idea who did this or how, and even less idea of what their ultimate goal is. Are you all still with me?" She had shifted modes, going from pitiful heartbroken Willow to taking charge Willow. Her tone left no room for argument, and there was an unmistakable impression that opposing opinions would not be tolerated.
The Scoobies found themselves shifting uncomfortable, uncertain how to react to this new aspect of Willow. Spike was watching in amazement, and a bit relieved that this red haired chit was unexpectedly on his side. Giles was the one who actually spoke coherent words instead of quiet and confused mumblings. "Ahhh.. that does about sum things up."
Willow nodded, still projecting confidence and authority. "So that means that we have no idea what sort of plan the being or beings responsible have, and that means that without further information, we have no idea what sort of victim profile they have. They might intend to go after Buffy, which we wouldn't want. They might have some plan to use anyone that they alter with this... whatever they did to Spike. The only one here that might have any information about the responsible parties is Spike, and if we send him out to starve to death, we will know nothing, and have no idea what to do if whoever was responsible moves after Buffy. Do you want that? Or Xander, what if the next thing you knew, you woke up unable to eat? No pizza, no doughnuts, no popcorn... nothing. Major pain any time you tried. You would want answers, and a solution. Spike is in that situation, except that it might be more like no pizza delivery boys, and no.. umm off topic. Spike needs answers, and we are going to help figure them out."
With some uncertainty, it was decided that Spike would have to stay at Giles' apartment. They would find him some clothing t6hat actually fit, and pick up some blood for him at Willies, or possibly the slaughter-house. Spike had made a few expressions of dismay at those ideas, making it clear that he did not feel those were the same as fresh blood, straight from a terrified mortal, but he didn't have any options. Willow went forth to get him blood, and she very carefully added a measured amount of liquid morphine that Giles had in his medical supplies to the blood before handing it to Spike.
He sniffed it, and frowned slightly. "What's in it, Red? It smells a bit different."
She blushed slightly, feeling awkward again now that the crisis point had passed. "umm I sort of.. I got into Giles' medical supplies. You were in pain... I remember how much it seemed to hurt you in the dorm. So, umm Giles had morphine. I thought it might sort of dull the pain for a while."
Spike made a small face, showing a mixture of dismay and amusement. "So, I couldn't hide that from you. Hasn't anyone told you that you're supposed to be too afraid to notice the details? umm.. it was a nice thought though. Should work even. Nobody's ever... this is a first, Red."
Willow gave a small smile, her eyes filling with tears despite her best efforts. "Well, I figured that there might be something that could be done about your pain. Why leave someone suffering if you can stop it?"
They just sat there for a while, pondering their separate pains as Giles tried to figure out how to determine who or what could have incapacitated Spike in such an unusual manner. They didn't realize how similar their postures were, both slumped against the wall, practically drooping with pain and despair.
~Part: 4~
Over the next week, things began settling into a sort of routine. WIllow would pick up blood for Spike at the slaughterhouse, and bring it over to Giles apartment. She would find Spike chained or tied, and left laying in the bathtub. He would look somewhere between bored and angry, possibly with a hint of something else, something that Willow was choosing to interpret as frustration and despair. Every evening when she arrived, it would be the same ritual.
Willow would walk into the bathroom, carrying a cooler filled with cow's blood, since Spike had said that the blood of cattle was slightly better than the blood of pigs. She would look at him, and give a little smile, and offer him a greeting. "Hey Spike."
Spike would look at her, and pull his features from the look of bored frustration into a semblance of a smile. "Red. Care to let me out? I can feed myself that way, even if it's just holding me own cup."
Every evening, Willow would consider the idea, and every evening she came to the same conclusion. Spike couldn't hurt her. She was so broken inside that she wasn't certain she would care if he suddenly regained the ability. So, she would tilt her head slightly, and say the same words every evening. "You have to behave."
Spike would make a slight grimace, as if to point out that he couldn't not behave. Willow would untie the ropes, or unlock the chains, and carefully place them on the floor, allowing Spike to move, and stretch his arms. He would stretch his arms out, exposing just a hint of muscled lean stomach, and mutter a soft "Thanks, Red."
Willow would hand him his styrofoam containers of blood, and he would drink them, and while he drank, he would ask Willow to tell him about her day. He normally looked far more interested in the blood than her day, but he would let her talk about things, how her classes had been, the weather, class assignments, the pain she felt every time something reminded her of Oz. Spike would sit there, his head occasionally nodding, and his eyes, blue or amber, would be focused on Willow. He looked as if he was listening, even if he was simply humoring her in order to keep a steady supply of blood.
With the regular amounts of blood that Willow brought him, Spike was regaining weight, and he now looked more like the vampire that had been after the Gem of Amara, instead of the wasted figure that had turned up on Giles' steps. He still didn't know why he couldn't feed, couldn't even try to hurt the living. Particularly violent thoughts even seemed to kick off whatever was happening to him. Willow had concluded that he didn't seem to be under the influence of a spell, and there was no detectable curse. That lead Willow to suspect that the source of his problem was of some sort of technological origin. He told her about the camouflaged figures that had struck him down with a taser. How he had awakened in some sort of strange place, all white tile and concrete, with bright lights. About the rows of gleaming white cells, some of which had held other vampires, or a few other human sized demons. How he had escaped past more of the camouflaged men, people that had looked human, seemed to be very organized. How he had gone from there and over to the dorm, thinking to repay the Slayer for his experience.
Spike would then find himself sitting near Willow, pretending to research. Willow would be instructed to keep an eye on him, as if SPike were a particularly troublesome small child that might wander off into trouble. WIllow would then nodd seriously at the charge, and pretend not to see the variious expressions from Spike. HE would stick his toughne out at Giles, or Buffy, make horrible faces at their backs while nobody but WIllow was looking. If anyone glanced over, he would seem to be looking at the pages of one of the books of demons. Willow often found herself smiling at his antics, and he would occasionally look over and smirk at her before making a particularly amusing face at someone. Willow wasn't quite certain why Spike would make such strange faces at the others, but perhaps he was simply bored. She could imagine how dull it wuld be to simply stay in a bathtub all day, with nothing to read, nothing to watch, and absolutely nothing to do but ponder his pain and misery.
Then, one evening as Buffy was darting off to 'patrol' wearing this new little black dress, and Xander had vanished with Anya for what Anya had cheerfully said would be 'many orgasms', SPike looked over at Willow. She had lost weight, and there were still the dark circles under her eyes. She was still pouring out her days to him over his evening blood.
"So, Red, why don't your pals listen to you talk about your day?" He sounded slightly curious.
She shrugged half-heartedly. "They got tired of me feeling sorry for myself. They think I should be over it by now, or at least stop talking about it so much."
Spike had been quiet for a while, aparently thinking about something before speaking again. "Red, you're the resident witch here. Is there some sort of spell or something that you could do to help heal? Take away some of the pain or something?"
Willow had looked at him, her eyes wide with surprise. "I never thought about that. I suppose.. I could look through Giles books. Maybe he has something that I can use. Thanks, Spike."
She had spent the est of the evening sarching through Giles' books on magic. She wanted to see if there was something that could help her. Not a spell to make Oz come back, but something to take the pain away, or numb it a little bit. Finally, she found a few things that each sounded like they had a bit of what she was looking for. Maybe she could combine them into a spell to help her?
~Part: 5~
Willow took two of the books back to the dorm with her, with three spots bookmarked. She was considering this as carefully as any research paper that she had done. SPike had raised a good point. She was the witch, she had the magical power to accomplish a great many things. Why not look and see if there was some way that magic could help her? Her friends were certainly of no help at all. Spike had helped more in a week than everyone else had in three. He had listened, or at least seemed like he was listening, and he didn't just tell her to 'get over it'. He said that he understood why it hurt. He'd suggested painful tortures that she could inflict on 'mutt-boy' if he ever came back to Sunnydale. Maybe Spike felt sympathy for her pain, maybe he didn't like Oz, or maybe he just liked the idea of torturing someone. She didn't really know, and at the moment, it didn't matter.
She settled onto her narrow dorm bed, flipping through the pages, taking notes on the sections that she thought would help. She made a listing of the ingredients that would be needed, referencing which spells called for what items. She would need a protective ward enclosing her work space, one drawn with salt and fire... hmm, would candles spaced around her work for that? A powder to burn as an offering to certain powers as a gift, to make them more favorably inclined towards granting her what she asked. She would be able to ask for what she wanted, anything. She just had to put it into Greek. The downside of that was that Willow didn't have a firm grip of the Greek language. She would have to plan out her desire in english, and then find a way to translate it into Greek for the ritual. Preferably with enough caution that even if it didn't go quite as she wanted, it would still be okay.
Willow tapped her pencil against her lip gently as she thought about that. 'What do I want? Two weeks ago, I would have asked for Oz back. But I don't know if that's really what I want. If he cheated on me once, how am I know that he wouldn't do it again? Two weeks ago, I would have said that I wished he'd never met Veruca, but she was dangerous, and I obviously wasn't enough to keep him happy. If I just say that I never want to hurt like this again, I could simply be struck dead, no more heartbreak. What I want... what do I really want?
Images of Spike leaped into her head, his smooth skin like porcelain, his cheekbones, the muscular planes of his body, the feeling of his body pressing hers into the bed... this very bed. His lips and teeth grazing over her throat... Her mind took those memories and changed them, imagining that he hadn't been trying to kill her, that he had wanted her, that he had found her attractive, desirable. That he had wanted to have her, to memorize every inch of her skin. To taste him on her lips, to see his eyes filled with passion and know that she had caused that look...
Reality intruded. Yes, Spike was gorgeous, sexy and totally desirable. It didn't matter, he wouldn't want her like that. Using some sort of spell to make him want her when he really didn't would be cheating, and hollow, and when it ended... all sorts of bad things would happen. He would be furious, and with perfectly just cause. Everyone else would be angry and disappointed. After all, how pathetic would it be to use magic to make someone want to have sex with you?
She just wanted to move past this pain. For her time of painful agonizing loss and misery to be over. To heal enough that she could realistically consider moving on, to consider opening her heart to someone again, instead of simply indulging herself in rampant sexual fantasy about Spike. Which was nice, but not helping her pain go away, or at least, not very much. Especially since he would never really look at her that way.
Wait... to move past this pain. She could use the spell to ask that she move past her pain, to speed the healing process. It wouldn't make anyone feel a certain way towards her, wouldn't force anyone else to feel or do things that they didn't really want. It would just be affecting herself. What harm could that do?
Finally, after several efforts and scratched out phrasings, she had her request phrased just right: help me to move past this time of pain. With the proper calling on suitable powers, and of course, there were several places where she vowed that she sought only good through this spell, and asked harm on none. She could even find most of the ingredients at Giles' shop. So, she was ready now for the hard part, which would be translating her request into Greek.
The next day, she had no classes for college. She spent the time preparing the powder, and managed to find enough sea salt and candles to make a decent sized circle around herself. She would cast it in Giles' basement, it was quiet, fairly open, and nobody ever went there. Right, remember to get Spike his blood first, then go cast your spell. Giles will still be at his shop, Buffy has a date, Xander has a job... she had the whole afternoon free for her spell. It shouldn't take more than an hour, tops. Then, she would be able to start living again.
She was feeling hopeful as she walked up to Giles house, the large cooler of blood heavy in her arms. She managed to unlock the door and stagger inside the apartment, which was oddly silent. She put the books on the table, not realizing that her pages of careful notes were still inside the front cover of the top volume. Then, she carried the cooler into the bathroom for Spike. He was stretched out in the tub, looking uncomfortable in a pair of handcuffs looped around the faucet. Willow smiled slightly as she unlocked his wrists. He moved in his sleep, pulling his arms down and rolling onto his side, muttering something about 'crimson cascades', 'jeweled passion' and 'burning for you, sweet...' in his voice, passion and lust thickening his voice, adding just a hint of a growl.
Willow could feel herself blushing as she left the room. Spike was obviously having a very interesting dream. She found herself remembering how she could see him, his lean form in the dark jeans, his skin a contrast, the outline of his... down, Willow! She told herself that he wouldn't have been dreaming about her. She had left him free, and the cooler was filled and sitting in the bathroom, under the sink where he would easily see it, and nobody would accidentally knock it over. Willow was still trying to get her thoughts in order, that hint of growl had done all sorts of naughty things to her.
Carefully, she cast her protective circle, asking that she be protected from harm within it's space. She lit the candles with a flicker of power, smiling as the golden flames leapt into being, dancing and swaying in time with her breathing. She poured the powder into a bowl carved from stone, and began her chanting, asking wisdom, protection and guidance from various powers. She then began the actual request, a small part of her hoping that she had translated everything properly. At the right time, she lit the powder, letting the faintly sweet smoke rise over her. It curled around, staying within her circle, and thickened, filling the ward and obscuring her view. Then, Willow felt herself falling, and the air was cold and damp.
She barely had time to register the cold dampness of the air, the smells of dirt and fish and rotting trash before she landed on someone, the lean muscular planes of his body feeling oddly familiar. Willow was certain that this was not Sunnydale any longer. She looked at the face of the person that she had landed on, seeing soft brown curls, and sharply angled cheekbones, startled blue eyes. She knew this face, but his hair was different, and he lacked the scar over his eyebrow. His leather duster was nowhere to be seen.
"Spike..." Willow could feel her head spinning. She had just landed on Spike. Except that he looked different. He was definitely a vampire, but... brown hair? No scar or duster... how could this be?
"I don't think we've met before, Red. Not to many witches I know, and none of them normally go around throwing themselves at vampires. Now, get the hell off me! And the name's William." His accent was slightly different, less harsh. It actually reminded Willow of Giles in an odd sort of way.
Carefully, Willow managed to disentangle herself from the vampire. "What are you doing here? I mean, you were just... and your hair was different."
"If you must babble these questions at me, I'm looking for Dru. She got separated in the fog, and I don't want her to get lost." He sounded annoyed. Then, with an oddly familiar grin, he reached out, his hand moving almost too quickly for Willow's eyes to follow.
He was gripping her by her throat, too tightly for her to scream, but just barely loose enough that she could breath. "You got two choices. You can either help me find Dru, or you can be my dinner date tonight." He smiled at her with sharp fangs, his eyes golden and almost glittering in the dim light.
Willow could feel her heart racing, feel it throbbing in her wrists, her temples, behind her eyes. She nodded slightly, and his grip loosened just a little bit, enough that she could speak. "I'll help you find Drusilla. But... where are we, and which way do you think that she went?"
He growled slightly, releasing Willow suddenly, which caused her to stagger. "This is London, of course. November tenth, in the year Eighteen Eighty Eight, if you need to know that as well. I think she had said something earlier about visiting the dirty chapel, so I'm guessing that she went towards Whitechapel."
Willow frowned to herself. London? She had somehow cast herself into London, over a century in the past? There had been something important about that year, something historical and significant, but she couldn't quite recall what it was. Perhaps it would come to her later. While she helped Spike, well apparently he was still William the Bloody, searching for his insane lover, the object of his eternal devotion. She was causing him unhappiness and worry even back in this century. Why exactly did he even want her back? Willow decided not to ask that question, it would probably make him mad.