~Part: One~

"We're not getting out of this one, are we Buff?"  Xander asked quietly.

Buffy turned her attention to him momentarily before resuming her desperate  study of their attackers who were pacing furiously back and forth a mere 3 meters away.  "I don't know Xand.  Could you check on Wills again?"

Turning his back on the circling enemy he took a step towards the small figure slumped unmoving against the warehouse wall.  He knelt beside her and clasped one of her small hands gently in his, using his other to wipe away the blood trickling from her nose.  "Do you think she'll be alright?"

"I hope so.  I think the protection spell has really fried her head, but she has bought us time."

Three hours earlier they'd been on patrol in the warehouse district, nothing out of the ordinary.  Xander had been telling stupid jokes trying to cheer Willow up.  She'd had a rough few months with Tara returning to her family and then 3 weeks ago - Spike.

Xander scowled at the thought of the blond vampire.  He'd always hated him, almost as much as he hated deadboy. But Willow didn't hate him and she had more reason than most.  But she had brushed aside the whole 'bottle in face' and 'I'll give you a choice' incidents and forgiven him.  Hell, she'd gone the extra step and actually made friends with him.  None of the others had.

Perhaps their friendship had blossomed because they had both found themselves alone and thrown together so often.  Xander shuddered to think
that perhaps he and Buffy had been too absorbed in their own happiness to notice Willow's pain and that was how, in some twisted fashion, she and Spike had found kindred spirits in each other.

He supposed they had all become a little blasé about Spike with the chip. He hadn't mentioned in months how much he was going to enjoy killing them all once he got his chip out and they had all pretty much forgotten the promise Spike had been so fond of making when he'd first been forced into this uneasy collaboration with the Slayer and the Scooby gang.

Settling down next to Willow and gently stroking her hand, Xander couldn't help but marvel at the inherent goodness of his best friend.

Willow, Buffy and he had spent the night at Giles' a few weeks ago.  The Watcher had been out of town and they were looking after his apartment. It had been a good evening, until the storm.  A great howling, thundering, storm the likes of which Xander could not remember seeing before, had
buffeted Sunnydale for hours that night, sending trees crashing and blacking out the entire city.

Willow had been worried about Spike alone in his crypt and once the storm had blown itself out and the sun had begun to rise she had set off to find him.  Xander almost moaned at the memory of he and Buffy teasing Willow about her hurry to check on the bleached wonder.  God, why did they ever move on from keeping the vampire safely chained in the Watcher's tub?  How had they ever allowed one theirs to venture on her own to an enemies' lair?

She found Spike.  She rushed into his crypt as the morning broke, calling his name.  Spike was lying on his sleeping platform, bruised and
bloodstained.  Willow had choked back a sob and rushed to his side checking him worriedly for serious injuries.

She had told Xander that she should have known something was wrong as soon as she touched him, but she had been so scared at all the blood she could see soaked in his shirt that she had panicked.  Running her hands gently over his chest she asked "Are you alright?"

The vampire had grinned maniacally and sat up grabbing both her hands painfully before answering in a jovial tone "Never better, Pet."

Willow had said she had been so relieved to hear he was unharmed that she hadn't immediately realized that Spike was hurting her wrists without
showing any sign of a headache.  It wasn't until she had sagged in relief against him that the light went on in her mind.  "S.Spike.  You're hurting
me."

The vampire had not replied and had not lessened his grip.  Still pressed against him, Willow had asked a question she said she had already know the answer to.  "The blood on your shirt - it's not yours is it?"

The bastard had laughed then.  Willow said she had never heard him sound so happy.  He'd gone on to explain in a casual tone, how he'd been caught outside when the storm hit, he'd been trying to get to the relative safety of her front porch when a great bolt of lightening had hit him, burning the soles of his shoes out and melting his jacket to his skin.  The bolt had thrown him clear across the street and through the windshield of a parked car.

"As soon as I regained consciousness I knew, Pet.  No more bloody chip!  The Big Bad is back."

By the time Willow had reached this part of the story she had been in tears.

She had tried to disentangle herself from his grasp only to have him shove her away in apparent disgust before leveling a disdainful glance in her
direction "Get out, Red.  Don't you ever come back here.  If I see you or any of the other's again, I'll kill you. Fair warning, Pet."

Willow had seen the truth of his words in his flashing golden eyes and had fled the crypt sobbing for a lost friend.  Grieving as she would for the
death of a loved one.

He and Buffy had been all for hunting him down and staking him, but Willow had begged them not to saying she believed he would leave Sunnydale as soon as possible.  So they had let it slide - for Willow.

This had been the first night he and Buffy had been able to convince Willow to leave the house since the night of the storm.  Now here they were trapped in this old warehouse the only thing between them and the thirty or so vampires waiting impatiently to tear them limb from limb was one of Willow's protection barriers.

Knowing there were too many of the enemy to fight off Willow had used every ounce of her human strength and magical ability to throw up the invisible protection barrier about them.  Their only hope would be that it might last until sunrise, forcing the vampires back to their lair.  But Buffy and Xander had no way of knowing if it would hold because the moment Willow had finished the incantation, she had slipped into unconsciousness.

Buffy tensed and moved forward with her stake at the ready as one of the vamps approached the barrier.  Slamming against it as hard as he could, the barrier held and repelled him but Buffy noted with mounting concern the alarming ripple that filled the air and she realized the barrier was
beginning to weaken.  Sunrise was another 5 hours away, they would never make it that long, even if Willow regained consciousness now Buffy knew she would not have the strength to reinforce the barrier.  They would all die tonight.

Lost in her thoughts, Buffy jumped a little when she heard Xander hiss "Junior"

Looking up sharply she saw Spike enter from the opposite side of the warehouse and swagger arrogantly towards the vampire who had led the attack on them that evening, dispatching 3 attacking minions without breaking stride.

Buffy couldn't hear the conversation Spike was having with the vampires and she found herself wondering if he had come here to get in on the 'kill the Scooby gang action' or if he was actually going to help.  She felt her shoulders droop as the assembled vampires who had initially looked as though they might attack Spike, suddenly began to laugh at something he said relaxing their previously tense postures.  It looked to Buffy like he had quickly established himself as 'one of the boys.'

Xander found himself clutching Willow's unconscious body closer to his as he saw Spike's killers eyes settle coldly on them.  Somehow the vacant and emotionless stare he favored them all with was infinitely more terrifying than the flash of golden fury he had seen so many times before.  This was the look of a predator who already knew the prey had been caught.

Spike walked slowly and deliberately towards the three friends, never breaking his stare with Buffy as he approached.  She couldn't help but
notice that the other vampires had retreated to the far end of the warehouse and were now watching this latest development with interest.

Buffy tensed as he stopped mere centimeters from her and pressed himself casually against the protection barrier.  "This will be down soon Slayer" he purred tapping long, pale fingers against the barrier.  "You won't make it out." He stated flatly.

Buffy met the challenge of his icy stare and glared up at him evenly, she nodded her agreement, but didn't speak.

Xander watched the exchange, his fury mounting as Spike began to smile slowly down at Buffy.  "I'm not here to save you.  I'm glad to see that
you're going to die, I'm only sorry it won't be me killing you, Slayer."

Buffy snarled silently at him and stepped as close to him as the barrier would allow.  How she would love to see his face as she drove Mr Pointy
right through his undead heart!

"I've come for the witch."

Xander shot to his feet, shaking in rage he rushed blindly towards Spike only to have Buffy restrain him.  "No Xander.  Stop"

Buffy shook him firmly drawing his seething gaze away from the vampire.  He understood what she was not saying and he slid to his knees defeated.  "Oh, Willow" he sighed sadly.

Buffy returned her gaze to Spike who stood silently waiting.  She knew without a doubt that Spike would like nothing more than to tear their
throats out and bathe in their blood.  While she knew this was an indisputable truth, she knew with equal certainty that he would not want
that particular death for Willow.  Despite his recent treatment of her, Buffy knew that he loved Willow, and no one else loved as fiercely as Spike.

She squeezed Xander's shoulder reassuringly before turning to pick Willow up from the floor.  "I love you, Willow" she whispered quietly kissing the red head gently on the cheek.  "This is the only way."

Buffy carried her carefully towards Spike, stopping just short of the barrier to glare at him, hatred shining brightly from her stormy gray eyes.
There would be no promises made for Willow's future safety and no admission of love - not from him.  "Take her to Angel" Buffy said quietly before
passing the body of her best friend through the barrier to her greatest enemy.

With Willow tucked securely in his arms where she belonged, Spike spun wordlessly on his heel and strode across the floor of the warehouse and out into the night.

The three best friends never saw each other again.
 

~Part: Two~

She was looking at me again.  Eyes full of the now familiar accusation. Great, green pools of judgment.

Still hasn't spoken.  Hasn't said a word, and the weeks have bled into months and still - nothing.  She just stares at me.  And I can barely stand it.

I tried everything, but it makes no difference.  No bloody difference at all.  Same empty expression, day in day out.  She's doing a really good
impression of a corpse.

I'm gritting my teeth again because she's giving me the creeps.  The dead person impersonation I mentioned earlier, well it's worse than the
screaming.

When she first woke I had been prepared for a mild case of hysterics and stuttered pleas to spare her life.  In fact I was kinda looking forward to it.  I'm a vampire after all.  But she surprised me.  She always surprises me.

I don't know how, but she knew the moment she opened those amazing eyes. She knew straight away they were dead.  It was strange to see, she cried out and tore at her hair before curling into a ball.  It was quiet for a brief moment while her face contorted in pain.  Then she drew in an unsteady breath and screamed.  And screamed.  And screamed some more.

After the first hour I had begun to panic.  After the third I was getting desperate.   I had tried the gentle approach, I shook her, I yelled, I tried
to gag her at one point - but she wasn't even seeing me, didn't even know I was there.

She kept screaming even when her voice broke and her throat started to bleed.  That was all I could stand.  I hit her then.  Hard.  Sent her back
to merciful unconsciousness.  The next time she woke.  Nothing.  Silence. Been like that ever since.

I shift again hating how uncomfortable this is making me.  Suddenly I realize why those eyes are giving me the bloody wiggins - she's making me
feel like - Angelus.

I'm quite the stubborn demon; almost always get what I want.  Now the Slayer and Chubbs are dead I can honestly say I always get what I want.except - I can't get her to speak, can't get her to acknowledge me one way or the other - and time is marching on.

Found myself thinking more and more about the Slayer's last words to me "Take her to Angel."

I went back to the Hellmouth.  I knew he'd be there.  My Grandsire.  Angel. And he was - huddled in the Watcher's apartment sobbing.

I watched through the window for an hour or so while Peaches sobbed and the Watcher drank.  It was the Cheerleader in the end who took up the reigns. My respect for the obviously not so vacuous bint went up a grudging notch or two.

I couldn't hear what she said, but what I saw was informative enough.  She snatched the glass from the Watcher's nerveless hands and threw it across the room before stalking over to Peaches and hauling off one hell of a right hook.  Knocked him flat on his ass.  She had better pray Angelus never comes back or she'll pay for that little hissy fit.  Still - points for the cheerleader.

I suppose she was reminding the 'men' (insert derisive snort here) that there was still Red to consider.  Still one girl who needed saving, still one girl who might conceivably be alive.

When he raised those depthless brown eyes of his I knew I had to get back to the witch.  He smiled that dangerous smile you see, and I knew right then - 'yeah, baby.  He's back' and he's got a job to do, because there's still one girl..

Word in Sunnydale is Angelus is looking for me.  Angelus. They all swear up and down it's him.  But I know better.  Despite the fact he's taken out the entire clan of vampires responsible for the deaths of the Slayer and the idiot; I know this is Soul boy's handy work.  It if had been Angelus
brimstone would be raining down from the very heavens and I can tell you something else for free - he wouldn't have stopped at one clan of vampires.

I know something else the Slayer and her little pals never understood. Angel and Angelus are one and the same.  Yeah, that's right. If it were up
to Angel, Sunnydale would burn.  If it were up to Angelus, Sunnydale would burn.  The only reason it doesn't now is because of the cheerleader.

What I mean is Angel loves her.  You're thinking 'right, there's the difference then.  Soul boy can love, the demon cant'.  But you're wrong. Demons can love.  Look at Dru and me.  Angelus loves well enough.  He loved me once, even loved Dru in his way.  No, the essential difference between
Angelus and Angel is that Angel would do anything to avoid hurting the ones he loves, Angelus..well hurting WAS his love.

Lucky for SunnyD it won't be burning by his hand no matter how bad he wants it to - she doesn't - therefore it won't.

So with the Slayer's words ringing in my head every bloody day I throw myself completely into getting my girl back to good because even though
she's already rotting in her grave I won't be following the Slayer's orders, and even though she's not Dru, I don't want to hand my witch over to
Peaches.  Soul or no soul, don't want him getting his hands on another one of my women.

I read to her, I bring her gifts, I bathe her, I brush her hair, I sing to her, I cry, I shout, I slap, I bite - nothing.  Nothing.

You would think the little chit would be grateful I saved her skinny ass. But she's not.  I see it each time I look at her.  I think she WISHES she'd
died right along side her idiot friends.  I think she would have PREFERRED it.  Maybe that's the reason for the accusation I see in her eyes. I mean, I
know she's smart but there's no way she could know for sure that I did absolutely nothing to save the Slayer and her lap dog.  Right?  Wait - what
do I care?  I'm a freakin' vampire!  .....but I do care.

So here I am alone with my witch.  She's still looking at me, even as I spoon this gruel into her perfect little mouth, doesn't take those eyes off me for a second.

She's not gonna get better.  I know that now.  She's not gonna get better.

"Take her to Angel."  That's what the Slayer said.  "Take her to Angel."

I feel it almost immediately.  That burning sensation in the pit of my stomach.  It quickly boils to the point where it stings like holy water in my throat and I'm out of my chair with a feral snarl and before I even know what I've done the bowl I've been feeding her from is lying in hundreds of
jagged pieces against the wall and the witch is on the floor bleeding, and looking at me with silent accusation.  Again.

So he wins.  I'm taking her to Angel.  Taking her to LA.

He's sensed me about the same time I sense him so I know I probably only have another 30 seconds before he's charging up the staircase to stake me. But I don't have a death wish so I'm not hanging around long enough for that eventuality.

He'll look after her.  She'll be safe.

He'll succeed where I failed.  Like he always fucking does.  I hate him for it..I love him for it.

I'm about to make a hasty exit from the lobby of this great mausoleum called the Hyperion when I feel it, small and warm.  She's grabbed my hand and I almost choke on my tongue.  Standing next to her in the dark, I stare stupidly into her face for a brief moment and a slow smile splits my
features for the first time since she woke up.  There's a single tear slipping slowly down her pale cheek.

That's progress.  Progress, indeed.

I give her hand a quick squeeze, ever mindful of my quickly approaching Grandsire.  With that one touch - she's changed everything and suddenly I'm feeling like I'm always gonna get what I want.  Maybe not today, not quite yet, but....

"I'll be back for you.  My Willow."

~Part: Three~

I can barely remember a time when my existence was simple, when I was happy.   Liam may have led the simple life but he certainly wasn't happy - had that father to contend with - Angelus, now he was happy.  Every now and then, sometimes more often than I would like to admit, I long for the freedom that Angelus had and I almost want to give in, to let go, embrace the demon.  But all it takes is a reminder of his capacity for destruction and I squash my own weakness down and get on with the job.  Redemption. Whatever.

In a way, I've started to see Willow as my redemption.  She's the perfect example you see.  For one deadly moment as I sat in Giles' living room 9 months ago, I was getting ready to give in.  I had one thought circling in my mind `Buffy is dead, Buffy is dead, Buffy is dead'.  Then there was Cordelia.  She reminded me in that way that only she can, that Willow was out there somewhere, and she needed us.  Cordy was right.  Willow needed us, Willow needed me.

As I sit and watch over her sleeping form I realize something else.  Willow still needs me, she hasn't been saved yet, and this is just the beginning.  So Buffy is gone, I miss her every day more than I could ever say, but I'm needed here.  I'm not going anywhere.  I still have a job to do.

And there's her..."Hey, Cordy"

"You always know don't you, Angel."

"It's your heart, Cord.  I can hear it.  No hiding from me"

Cordelia's often stern features softened as she brushes a lock of blood red hair from Willow's forehead.  "How are the nightmares?"  she whispers quietly never taking her eyes from the slight girl curled beneath the comforter.

I steeple my long fingers beneath my chin before I answer "Better, I think.  She hasn't woken at all tonight."

***

There are no windows here but I know the sun has not long risen because the temperature has warmed the slightly.  It suddenly occurs to me that I can't remember the last time I stood in the sun.  It's been a long time I guess.

They forget that I can hear them, I think.  Spike forgot - eventually. I think that's why I'm coming back now.  I've heard what's in their hearts, what they say when they let their shields down.  It's what I needed to hear I guess.  I'm coming back, because..because they love me.  I'm not alone.  I'll never be alone.

They're asleep, two dark heads resting peacefully side by side on the sofa next to my bed and as I look at them it strikes me how well they fit.  And I'm so glad.  They need each other now. They fit.

I don't want to wake them but I've come back you see and I'm so thirsty.  I try to speak and panic when I can't seem to form words, making a strange gurgling sound instead.

Angel must have sensed my increased heart rate because he's awake immediately and leaning over me.  "Willow, are you alright?"

I shake my head frantically `I can't speak'.  He places a cool and comforting hand on my forehead and I shiver to think that it is the familiar feel of icy dead flesh against my own heat that soothes me and I flash back to another time in the dark with soft crooning words and gentle, dead caresses.  "Shhhh, your throat is a little damaged, Willow.  We'll get you a cool drink.  The doctor said you would be fine you're just going to need a little time."

I swallow painfully and chant to myself `this is different, this is different.'

***

I watch Angel watching Willow and I can't help but smile a little sadly.  She's going to be ok now, a little damaged, sure, but aren't we all?  But she's got us.  We've got her.

***

The first few times I wandered out here I had company.  I didn't mind.  I know they worry.  And Cordy is as quiet as a mouse, she never had my propensity for nervous babble, there wasn't much that Cordy couldn't say with the arch of one sardonic eyebrow.  I always envied her for her impressive non verbal skills and her keen fashion sense and unshakable self confidence of course. <Oh sarcasm, I must be getting better>.  Quite an amazing woman is our Cordy, I'm unspeakably grateful for her presence.

Still, it's nice to finally feel the sun shining on my face and know I have no more company here in the Hyperion's courtyard than the birds.  Love watching them, it's calming.  I'm just a little jealous, wish I could fly.

Cloaked in the sun's shining embrace I almost feel like I'm getting better.  But the arrival of the night reminds me how precarious life is once again, reminds me of what I lost, reminds me of what I failed to protect, reminds me of Spike.

I find myself hovering at his door, I'm quiet, I don't need to speak to him, I just need to know he's there.  Just in case..It doesn't matter though, he always looks up from whatever book he is reading and beckons me in with a gentle smile.  I sit silent staring into the fire he always has burning, I don't need to touch him, just knowing he's there..

Sometimes Cordelia stays and we sit in front of the fire listening to her tales of daytime in the city, basking in the magic that is her life.  I watch Angel watching her and feel my heart soar.  I can't explain how much it means to me to know that after all of the death and suffering something as beautiful as the love he has for her can still exist.  It fills me with hope.  And I never have the nightmares on those rare evenings.

We're eating eggs.  Angel Eggs, Cordy calls them.  They're good too, and I don't even consider how strange it is that the only person in this hotel who doesn't eat happens to be the best cook in the place.

Cordelia and Wesley are teasing Angel about who should clean up the dishes and Angel is pretending to be annoyed but we can all see the quirk at the corner of his mouth he gets when he is trying to hold back a grin.

It's all so normal and with a sudden pang I realize it feels just like family does.  Just like Buffy and Xander.  My smile falters a little and I fight the sudden surge of tears in my eyes because Angel has picked up the sudden change in my heart's rhythm and he's looking at me with concern.  I don't want to be the one to steal the laughter from the room.  It's too precious.  So I offer a rare smile and tuck into the wonderful eggs on my plate although I don't feel quite so hungry any more.  But he seems satisfied because he drops me a cheeky wink and returns his attention to Cordelia.

I think it might be time for me to go see them.  I think I have to do it soon, it's time for me to say my goodbye.  I know he would go with me if I asked - in fact he has already been more than once returning each time looking a little less haunted, but I feel like maybe I need to do it alone.  Soon.  Not today.

***

I've been watching her for a fortnight now.  She hasn't noticed me of course.  Neither has my Sire.  Ponce, too bloody wrapped up in the idiot cheerleader no doubt.  Pisses me off to think he has allowed himself to get so distracted when he is supposed to be taking care of my Princess.  But his inattention has its advantages.

I've been in her room these last three nights.  Watching her sleep, soothing her when she dreams.  She never wakes and I guess I have to be glad about that because if she did, I would have no choice but to take her away again and I can see she's not quite ready for that.

Smart thing would be to stay away for a while.  I know he's still looking for me.  But I stayed away as long as I could before the lingering scent of her finally dissipated from my sheets and I had to go to her once again.

I don't like the little looks he keeps shooting her.  Those secret questions he asks with his bloody soulful eyes suggest a level of intimacy I don't want him to ever share with her.  Oh I know it's not sexual, he's got it hard for the cheerleader and soul boy is a one woman man.  But I don't like those knowing little looks.

I have the perfect view of her from my perch outside the Poof's kitchen window.  She looks a little sad tonight and I feel that horrible clenching I used to get in my gut when she would stare up at me with her face carefully blank and her eyes brimming with heartbreak.  I spoke to Willy about this feeling one night over a bottle of tequila and he suggested it was compassion or maybe guilt.  Needless to say I put him in the hospital for a month.  Local demon populous was pissed at me for a while with the watering hole closed for business while he recuperated.

The bottle I am swigging from suddenly shatters in my fist as I watch Angel approach my princess and take her in his arms.  He gathers her in against his chest and buries his face in her hair. <Get off her, get off her, get off..>He's probably saying something appropriately supportive or suggestive and as always my rage is upon me before I can think.

"This will not do.  This will not do at all."

It is obvious to me that I will have to take some kind of action to remind my Princess this arrangement is only temporary.  I made her a promise 9 months ago and I bloody well intend to keep it.

"I'm coming back for you, my Willow."

I take a deep and unnecessary breath and try to get myself under some kind of control.  I have to be very careful with her.  I get so angry and I lash out before I realize what I am doing - I forget she is just a mortal girl unable to withstand the punishment my demon wants to inflict.  I remind myself of how she looked the times I lost my temper with her after I took her from her friends - black and blue and red..lots of beautiful red.  Pretty as a picture, but withdrawn and sad, so very sad.

I don't want her like that.  I never did.

I sneak in through her bedroom window and wait for her to retire for the evening.  I don't have to wait too long.  She goes to bed early these days I notice.

Standing still and as silent as death behind the heavy velvet drape (bloody poof) I watch hungrily as she removes her demure terry toweling robe to reveal a pretty satin nightgown of deep midnight blue and I growl as I realize her apparel was obviously chosen by Angel.  I know his tastes well and I have intimate knowledge of how he likes to dress his women, yeah, he'd chosen this for her.

She freezes for a moment going completely still.  I know she thinks she heard something, but she's not sure.  I don't really want to scare her too much, but I don't see how I can help it and I have to make a move now because if I don't she's gonna bolt downstairs to Angel so he can come check her room for her.

***

It is with a slow kind of dread that I suddenly realize I am not alone in my room.  I instinctively know it is him and with that knowledge comes the certainty that my healing has come to an end and if I had time I guess I would grieve for the second family I am certain that I am about to lose at his hands.

He is on me before I can draw breath to scream, a large icy hand pressed hard against my lips mashing them savagely against my teeth as we go down on the bed in a tangle of limbs and fangs.  Even without his hand over my mouth I wouldn't be able to scream to Angel for help because he has landed with his full weight on top of me and driven the very breath from my lungs.  I am having a hard enough time at the moment just breathing.  He must realize this too because almost as soon as we land on the bed my instinctive struggles have ceased and he removes his hand slowly from my bleeding lips.

"Not a sound, Pet."  He whispers gently smoothing my hair out of my eyes.

I shake my head, still can't speak.  Not a sound, right.  Not a sound.

We lie still and silent regarding each other carefully.  His game face is on and I can feel every inch of his hard body branding me with its icy coldness through the almost non existent fabric of my nightgown.  He shifts his hips deliberately, slightly, enough.  He reminds me..how could I forget?  <`Let me make it better, Princess.  Let me make it go away.'>

"I've been generous, Pet."  He says sadly running his finger across my clavicle leaving goose bumps in his wake.  "You've been ungrateful."

I want to deny his charge, but he said I wasn't to make a sound. I know better than to disobey him - disobedience equals bruises and bleeding, he can't seem to help it - I've had enough of both of those things at his hands to last my short life time.  I'll do almost anything to avoid any more of it.  So I stay still and quiet just the way he wants me trying to quash the panic I feel growing in direct proportion to the part of him I can feel growing.  <`Let me make it better.'>

"I've given you time but you seem to be forgetting something, Princess"

I don't ask him what it is I am forgetting.  In his mind I should probably know, the question would only anger him further, besides he says it again, "not a sound, pet."

He rips my nightgown from my body with one savage yank and I suddenly understand why he's angry.

I fight the natural urge to cover my thin form from him knowing that such an action would further enrage him and provide him with some kind of twisted proof that I am deliberately defying him, denying his ownership of me.

But the hungry way he looks at me with his feral yellow eyes is the stuff of my nightmares and I am so terribly afraid again. <He's so horribly beautiful.>

I used to wish a man would look at me the way they looked at Buffy and Cordelia - lust, want, adoration.  A girlish yearning for passions I did not yet understand.  Now, when he looks at me that way I want to die.  I wish I were invisible Willow once again, because this is too much.  Too much.  I can't.  <So beautiful.>

He runs his cold hands softly down the side of my body nudging my legs apart with one jean clad thigh.  I shiver and squeeze my eyes shut tight unable to stop this minor transgression.  I expect his wrath but he surprises me by placing butterfly kisses on my closed lids.  "Shhhhhh".

His lips rain soft kisses all over my face and his hands tangle in my hair for a moment and I can't help thinking about the days after I woke when he would spend an hour washing my hair and gently brushing it free of tangles until it shone - he would always tell me how he loved it's softness and smell, how he loved me.

And I'm lost again, confused.  So gentle, so kind, then so hard and so angry and I don't know what to do.  So I do nothing..there's nothing I can do.

<`Love hurts, baby.'  `I don't want to hurt you.' `I love you, pet.' `I'll =

tear your fucking throat out, bitch.' `I don't want to hurt you.'>

"You remember now don't you, Pet?  Tell me you don't need another lesson, tell me you know who you belong to, tell me you will always know."  His kisses become demanding as he moves his mouth to my throat warningly.  He doesn't need to scrape the sensitive skin with his fangs, but he does it anyway and I shiver again.

"I remember, Spike.  How could I ever forget?...Please."

It's the first time I have spoken to him since they died.

He goes still above me for a moment and I shut my eyes again waiting for the verdict.  Then I hear him purr and his rough tongue is lapping the blood from my torn lips, his hands are still in my hair holding me still.  He growls then and shifts atop me again.  <I know, Spike, I know.>

I don't cry out when his fangs slide into my shoulder, I am not surprised.  I have scars all over my body. He loves me.  Love hurts.

As suddenly as it began, it is finished.  The icy weight that pinned me to the bed a second ago is gone and the only evidence he was ever in my room is in my bleeding lip and the shredded satin gown on the floor.

The curtains sway gently in the breeze and I guess I will live to see another sunrise but more than ever before I now know that I will continue to do so only so long as Spike decides to allow it.

next

back