~Part 1~

She was sprawled out across his bed, her red hair fanning out around her pale face. It was thinner, harder than he recalled, but still recognizable as that of the chit who'd been helping the Slayer. Her slim black leather jacket had fallen open, and her hand rested over her stomach against the sky blue blouse. Her nails were short and blunt, and covered with a shimmering coat of nail polish. The only jewelry that graced her fingers was a simple gold wedding ring.

His cool blue eyes moved past her form, lighting on the handcuffs hanging from the post of his bed. Strong, well made things. He was distantly pleased that he hadn't had to break them when removing them from around her thin wrists. The base of his thumb ran across the edge of the key he had taken from the officer's body -- the key that had freed the young woman's wrists from their bondage.

The sight of the vaguely familiar face had caught his attention earlier that night as he was preparing for the hunt. Mild interest had bloomed into full fledged curiosity as he had witnessed the wildly protesting young woman, her hands awkwardly held behind her back, being herded towards a waiting police car.

The flashing lights had played across her features, and from the shadows in which he watched, Spike had seen something flash across her face. There had been terror seeping into her expression -- a fear beyond the law, a fear that tapped into the expression that covered the faces of his victims as they realized that their lives had been slipping away from them.

There had been determination in that white face as well, a sight that had gradually nudged his memory back to a long ago night in Sunnydale as he had stared into a terrified face, broken bottle in hand. The recognition of the girl, coupled with her inglorious situation had sent a harsh smile to the vampire's lips.

It had been his desire to know what had brought the high and mighty little white hat to such an end, along with the boredom that had been nagging at him for the past months, which had sent him surging out of the shadows. The cops had been disappointingly easy to dispense with, weapons and training offering little aid against a creature born of death over a hundred years before they had been formed within their mother's bellies.

Bound and obviously in shock, the red head had managed to be more spirited than any of her would be captors. She would have probably still been attempting to dodge him had his casual blow to the side of her head not sent her tumbling into unconsciousness.

His eyes moved back to her, taking in the bloody stains, finger length apart, that marred the flesh of her neck. The soft shirt was torn in places, and it too was streaked with drying blood. It was her hands that held his interest the longest once more, coated with blood. Some of it hers, most of it not, Spike's senses informed him.

Bloodstained fingers twitched against her stomach, and Spike's eyes flew back to her face. He was standing at the side of the bed, looming over her, dominating, when her eyes slowly peeled open. He smirked down at her, a hint of fang peeking out from behind his lips.

She pressed herself deeper into the mattress, wide green eyes staring at him with an expression of disbelieving horror. Her lips fell open, and she sucked in a deep, wavering breath. She didn't move, her eyes glued to his. Her voice was nearly expressionless when her words finally formed. "Oh fuck."

*****************

'Real witty, Wills,' she thought as the mild curse escaped her. She didn't wait for a response within her own mind or from Spike. Willow rolled, the need to run, to _escape_ the horror awaiting her far outweighing her fear of the vampire towering over her. She knew that Spike was as much a monster as what she faced... but the memories of his cruelties seemed far away from the threat which had brought her to that moment. Spike had faded in her mind, the other was still as sharp and real as the blood that itched against her skin.

Her ankle twisted as her feet slammed into the ground, and Willow silently cursed her husband's fondness for the sight of trim feet snugly encased by high-heeled shoes. She scrambled forward gracelessly, stopped only by the feel of her hair being yanked back savagely.

The cry that hadn't burst past her when she feel escaped then, as Spike yanked her back towards the bed by her hair. He pulled her upwards, throwing her onto the bed as easily as if she had been nothing more than a rag doll. She felt little more substantial than such, incapable of resisting the brusque movement.

Her eyes snapped open as one of Spike strong legs swung over her body, straddling her. She was pinned in place by the weight of his body. 'Why was it that he didn't seem as threatening, again?' her mind yelped as his demonic golden eyes glared down at her.

His hand reached out, glacial against the heat of her skin. His fingers bit into the tender flesh of her chin, but his voice was amused as he spoke. "If you don't feel like playing..." Spike said, one eyebrow arching upwards as his demon's face melted back into human visage.

Willow stopped squirming beneath him, laying perfectly still. "What do you want, Spike?" Willow asked, her voice cracking. She frowned at the weakness in it, trying to reel her raging emotions back into some kind of control. Somehow, equilibrium seemed so much easier to maintain when it wasn't her own life going to hell...

"Nothing at all, pet," Spike said. "Just catching up on old times."

Willow nearly snarled at him. He was holding her captive, threatening her, risking her _life_ just because he felt like _playing_! Had her hands not been trapped beneath him, Willow would have struck out with every ounce of rage that his mild pronouncement ignited within her.

"Sorry, I'm rather busy at the moment," Willow said with forced calm. 'And your killing those cops isn't going to help matters at all!' her mind shrieked, more angry with the added difficulty that his actions had created for her than she was with the needless loss of life. Shame bloomed in her briefly before Willow crushed it ruthlessly.

"And I doubt that you want to get drawn into what's going on, Spike. So could you... _please_," she choked on the plea, "let me go?"

"That eager to run back into the arms of the cops, pet?"

Willow ignored the mocking question. "You don't want to do this," she warned.

Spike ignored the cautioning words as easily as Willow had ignored his question. "They seemed eager to bring you in," he mused. "Who'd you off, pet? Your hubby?" he continued, remembering the glint of her wedding band.

She hissed at him. "Go to hell, you stupid --" she paused, her mind scrambling for an appropriately vile name. Finding none, she settled for a scowl.

"That's more of the wanker's thing than mine," Spike replied, sounding vastly amused by Willow's spluttered insults.

His annoyingly smug smile froze at the sound of footsteps outside the closed door. New to the area, Spike had yet to gather minions, and the previous occupants of the house were safely dead. The playful glint in his eyes faded as he slid off of Willow. His back towards her, Spike didn't see the look of dread that passed across Willow's face as her hands protectively clamped over her stomach.
 

~Part 2~

 She was crying into her arms when he got back, deep, tearing sobs that shook her entire body. For a moment, she looked so small and utterly vulnerable that Spike felt an unexpected surge of protectiveness well up within him. The forelorn figure that she presented tugged at the instincts that had bloomed within the vampire over the years in which he had willingly devoted himself to his beloved, often childlike and needy Dark Goddess.

And then, Willow looked up, and though her eyes were filled with tears, strength still shone from her face. Her lips parted, anger and appreciation warring for dominance on her face. Her head shook, lips snapping shut, and Willow settled for wiping at her blotchy, tear stained face with the back of her hand.

Her coat was already off, laying slightly behind her. Spike crouched down next to Willow, tearing the bloodied remains of her left sleeve from her in a quick motion. Without a word, he probed at the bullet wound streaking across the pale flesh of her upper arm.

His senses reeled from the heady scent of her blood. Unable, and in truth, unwilling, to fight his urge to taste the intoxicating stuff, Spike brought his fingers to him mouth, cleaning Willow's blood from them. She was looking at him, wide eyed and silent, her body stiffening beneath the steady pressure of his hand against her knee.

"Could you not snack on me?" Willow said finally, her voice rough with tears and uncertainty. Spike could hear her heart pounding, loud and fast sending blood pumping through the veins pulsating beneath the skin he touched.

"You're too tasty for you're own good, pet," Spike grinned. "And I was never good at resisting temptation."

She huffed. "So Buffy said," Willow muttered, and instantly regretted mentioning the Slayer when Spike's fingers dug into her knee.

Spike pulled back from her slightly, his hands easily going through the motions of bandaging Willow's wound. "The Slayer told you, did she?" he said, no venom in his tone. His voice sounded strangely... detached, and Willow couldn't hold back her slight shudder.

"I rather figured it out on my own. Buffy just confirmed it," Willow answered. She cautiously peeked down at her arm, relieved to find the shallow gash marring her skin safely hidden from sight by the bandage Spike was fastening around it. Being queasy in her line of work wasn't an option, but the sight of the trail that the bullet had left across her upper arm as it grazed past her had made Willow realize just how close that she'd been to getting one in a significantly more vital area.

"Didn't think that she'd be so eager to tell her precious little friends that she was shagging a demon... again," Spike said, almost unwillingly. He'd had fun at the time, enjoying Buffy's warmth and passion and the banter that usually marked any time that they spent together. The few intimate, and decidedly dangerous encounters that had passed between them during the long year that he had been forced to help the Slayer and her friends hadn't been worth it when he'd been able to return to Drusilla.

His beloved princess had taken one look at him, her wide eyes dark with thoughts that he found that he couldn't imagine. Her voice, when she finally broke the silence between them had been uncompromising. Straying briefly could be pardoned when the sex was a prelude to a meal -- but not, Drusilla had proclaimed, when it was the nasty Slayer that he'd enjoyed while apart from her.

Rocking back on his heels, Spike watched Willow's profile. "I think that it's time that you told me what's happening, pet," he said. Her jaw clenched, lips thinning unhappily, and Spike forced a mocking tone to his voice. "Unless you'd like to go against the Watchers all alone, that is," he shrugged.

Willow's head swung towards him, her eyes wide. "What makes you think that those men were Watchers," she asked coolly. It was strange, Willow thought, all those years ago -- a lifetime past -- when she though of Watchers, visions of tweed and tea came to mind. She'd taken Giles as her basis and built a Council of proper, dedicated and thoroughly respectable individuals in her imagination. That image hadn't lasted very long after Buffy had turned her back on the Council and they'd seen that they were as much at ease with violence as they were with ancient texts.

"They had the look to them," Spike said easily.

Willow sighed, running a shaking hand, still painted with dried blood, through her hair. "I work... worked for the Council as an investigator," she began. "Shortly after you left, Buffy and the Council worked things out... the top level, the ones who had been making all the decisions about going through with the test on Buffy's birthday, and not helping Angel and... everything else, were removed. New people were put in, more flexible and willing to pull their heads out of their... books, long enough to see what was happening in the real world."

"And I believed that things had changed. So, when one of the recruiters came calling, I was more than eager to do my part to help. I investigated claims of supernatural events to see whether the situation warranted the Slayer's intervention, if it were a hoax, a known enemy, or something that hadn't been encountered before. Like the X-Files -- except I knew the 'truth'... at least I thought I did," Willow snorted.

It had been dangerous, terrifying work sometimes. Without Buffy, or Giles or Xander or anyone else to back her up, she'd learned to rely on and hone her own abilities. It had been work that she could take pride it, something that helped the world as she never could have should she have spent the rest of her working years behind a desk.

"I met him on the plane back to London after a short stop in Sunnydale. Erik Starsmore -- funny and intelligent and definitely... drool worthy," Willow said, her lips twisting into a humourless smile. "Getting hooked up with him proved to be an even bigger mistake than falling in with the Council."

"I wanted to live a normal life for a while, take a break from the weirdness and play housewife. The Council wasn't happy to hear that, but they agreed to let me go. They also decided that they couldn't risk someone unacceptable finding out about their operation, so they checked up on Erik. Standard procedure for anyone working in the Council, or involved with any of it's members. And this time... they found something."

Willow looked at Spike, her expression grim and her eyes haunted. "I'm almost as unlucky at love as Buffy is," she said softly. Her eyes closed, and she drew in a deep, wavering breath. "Turns out that Erik is the descendant of a particularly nasty sorcerer... the only one still alive, at that. And to make matters worse, his none-too-nice ancestor is alive and nutty and evil as ever. You know how it goes for us Hellmouth graduates -- when things can get worse, they do. The old guy just happened to need the blood of one of his own to wake a demon."

She laughed harshly. "I'm sure you can figure out what that means. The Council did, too. So they decided to take out Erik before he could be used for that -- they stormed into our house and..." Willow's head dropped to her knees, her breathing low and shallow.

Spike nodded, his voice sounding muted and far away when he replied. "They've done that a time or so before," he said, almost approving.

Willow's head lifted, and she glared at him through red-rimmed eyes. "You don't have to sound so... _impressed_ with the fact that they go around murdering people!" she snapped.

Willow began speaking again before Spike could respond. "The cops found me there, I guess the shots disturbed the neighbours sleep," she said bitterly, remembering all the times when pleas for help and dying screams had been ignored by those safely enclosed in their homes. "...Covered with blood and clutching the gun I had used to protect myself from my former colleagues."

"The Council is afraid that you'll tell all?" Spike asked.

"No. They just want to make sure my baby doesn't survive."
 

~Part 3~

 "God damnit!" Logan Traherne growled as his hooded eyes swept the confines of the small, blood splattered room. He looked down at the young woman at his feet, outwardly undisturbed by the realization that half of her neck was missing. There were five of them in total, each one of them sprawled out in a wide pool of their own blood. "Nobody informed me that she had the help of a _vampire_!"

His assistant, Marcus Faringdon breathed noisily at his side. "We weren't aware that Rosenburg had any contact with one," he said apologetically. Fleshy hands thrust inside of the baggy pockets of his trousers and he warily watched the other man from the corner of his eye. Careful observation of Traherne's features could provide valuable foreshadowing of the eruption of his legendary temper -- and his scowling, hawkish features were a safer spot for Faringdon's eyes to rest than any other spot within the room. He shuddered slightly, the stench of death permeating the room making his stomach lurch.

"Who the hell authorized this?" Traherne growled, finally commenting directly on the situation. Drawing up his trousers slightly, he squatted next to the woman who had fallen closest to him. Ignoring the blood licking at the tips of his shoes, he reached out. Steady hands ran over the plain material that had served as the woman's uniform. "One of ours," he muttered, his voice low and dangerous.

Faringdon blinked, his rounded shoulders slumping further beneath his grey suit jacket. Although the suit had been made for him, it seemed to fit him wrong. The shoulders seemed to invite a proud stance, not the slumped roundness that characterized his own. His suit jacket and shirt stretched unbecomingly across his wide stomach, and the flesh of his neck seemed to overflow his collar. He felt uncomfortable in the carefully selected and utterly respectable clothing that the Council insisted that he wear in lieu of his favorite pair of jeans and the comfortable sweatshirt that he allowed himself the luxury of indulging in when he retreated into his own room at the end of the day.

He cleared his throat, and let his eyes move away from Traherne. His eyes glued onto the bent back on one of the men working over the corpses. None of them tore their eyes away from their grisly work, willing themselves into invisibility from Traherne's sight. "Perhaps it was a... miscommunication?" he offered meekly.

"Not bloody likely. Somebody is trying to fuck with my plans, Faringdon. They know that I want the girl alive," he said, rage flickering beneath the unemotional surface of his words. "Bad enough she had to take matters into her own hands... but if I loose that brat she's carrying, there will be hell to pay," he stated, biting of each word precisely.

'That's the case no matter how this mess ends,' Faringdon thought bleakly. Shuddering, he fled the blood painted confines of the room, Traherne's eyes burning against his back.

******************

With a grateful sigh, Willow pulled on the boots that Spike had tossed in her direction -- wonderfully flat heeled. He'd shoved the clothing that she was currently wearing in her direction minutes after her revelation. Willow had gleefully shed her blood soaked outfit for favour of the clean ones, so eager to be free of her stained ones that she hadn't bothered to retreat into the bathroom to change. As dangerous as Spike was, she preferred his company to moving the short distance from him required to reach the bathroom. She wanted to keep him in sight, to know that for no matter how brief a period, she wasn't alone with her troubles.

"So what now?" Willow asked as her head passed through the neck of the shirt she was putting on. She ran her hands through her hair, trying to force the rebellious strands back into some kind of order.

"I'm bringing you back to Sunnyhell," Spike answered.

"No!" Willow cried. "They'll expect me to go there, to get help from Buffy and Giles," she explained.

"Of course they will, pet," Spike said. "But that's home turf, we used the Hellmouth against your bloody Council before, we'll do it again. Most demons are as eager to snuff out Watchers as they are Slayers -- if they follow, I'll direct a few of the boys in their direction."

Willow looked at him uncertainly. "I didn't think that you'd be willing to help. You were always bitching about how horrible it was to help Buffy... I'm just surprised that you're so eager to get into the helpful vamp routine again. Not, of course, that I'm not deliriously happy that you're helping," she was quick to add.

"I'm always up to taking out some Watchers," Spike grinned, a hint of fang showing. "And this should definitely liven things up for a while."

*****************

Willow leaned her head against the car's window, staring at the black paint concealing the darkened stretch of road that they were careening down. She could see her reflection, faint and shadowed, in the glass. Her nails scraped across the window, tracing the lines of her face.

"Spike?" Willow said softly, not sure if she actually wanted her words to reach him through the loud music pumping through the car's interior. The music was turned down a notch or two, the pounding of drums and guitars no longer vibrating with the same intensity within her skull.

She shifted in her seat slightly, adjusting the safety belt around her when it cut into her. His face was dark, his profile lit by the moonlight trickling through the areas where the paint had not bee applied properly. "I lied, you know," she said. He didn't look at her.

Willow's finger twisted the unfastened belt of her jacket, the only item of clothing that she had refused to dispose of. "They didn't kill him. _I_ did." His eyes seemed to shine in the darkness when he looked at her. "Some of them wanted Erik safely dead... and others wanted him alive, to use him as a bargaining chip, or as a tool for their own purposes. I don't know what, actually. But it couldn't be good," she said harshly, no more faith in the Council's goals left within her. "I didn't want to kill him... but it would be even worse if Illianer or the Council could get to him alive, right?"

He didn't answer, she didn't expect him to. "I had to kill him... before they got to him. And I thought that... hoped that when he was dead, they'd have no more interest in me. Those who wanted him alive would have lost, those who wanted him dead would have succeeded, and they'd both move on. I'd be able to slip away, none of them knowing about my baby, none of them wanting her."

"I've never killed a _person_ before, Spike. All these years, I fought to save people... and I killed my own _husband_ so that I could get away." She reached out, twisting up the volume again, not waiting to hear what the vampire would say.

The music seemed to slam into her, pounding through her body but never washing the image of Erik from her mind. Willow dropped her head back onto the headrest, closing her eyes to hold back the tears that burned in them. She wrapped her arms around herself tightly.
 

~Part 4~

 She was pale in the dark interior of the car, her flesh bathed bymoonlight and shadows. Had it not been for the faint stain of bloodvessels beneath the smooth surface of her face, she could have been oneof his own already, a creature of eternal nights and the faint glow ofthe moon. Her head had fallen sideways, her neck bare and exposed tohis hungry eyes. His eyes traced the graceful line of her throat,watching her steady pulse with fascination.

He wondered that none of his kind had claimed her already. 'Just aswell, though,' Spike thought, his lips quirking into an wide grin fullof anticipation. Beautiful, intelligent... dangerous, she could beperfection. His gaze moved downward, sweeping over a sweater clad armwrapped across her still flat stomach in unconscious protectiveness._Almost_ perfect, he amended.

He shifted gears, the car jumping forward with even more speed asSpike's booted feet pressed down upon the gas. Beyond the darklypainted windows, a meager barrier against the sun's dangers, the treeswhipped by in a blur of grey and brown, empty branches liftedbeseechingly towards the dark sky. He had turned off the music shortlyafter Willow had drifted into sleep, and now the only sound in the carwas the steady hum of the engine and the soft pumping of Willow's heart.

Her fingers twitched against her belly as shadowed green eyes peeledopen. She looked at him from beneath lowered eyelashes, the palm of onehand pressing into her aching shoulder and neck. "Are we there yet?"she asked sleepily, sleep having stripped her of her defensiveness forthe moment.

"That eager to be rid of me, luv?" Spike asked, watching as she movedaround in the seat, searching for a comfortable position that constantlyeluded her.

Willow's lips twitched. "Yep."

"Oh?" Spike questioned, his eyebrows arching inquisitively. "I must behandling you wrong, then."

"I don't want you handling me at all," Willow said, the stubborn flushthat she had yet to master suffusing her cheeks. 'Goddess! I'm alonewith a nicely built man for more than five minutes and my mind dropsinto the gutters. Xander would be proud of me.'

Willow quickly veered the conversation in another direction. "Did youever imagine heading back to Sunnydale?" she asked, praying that Spikewould cooperate and play gentleman until the sleep dissipated from hermind and she was capable of dealing with him without making a fool ofherself.

"No. Not much worth going back for," Spike answered, noting the reliefthat flared in her eyes when he answered.

"But... Buffy?" Willow asked. Her eyes went wide, her mouth clampingshut with such violence that her teeth cut into her lower lip. Buffywas so not the right person to bring up.

Spike snorted. "She was a good fuck, pet, but nothing worth mooningover. Besides, Slayers don't make good vampires. Nuttier thanDrusilla," he explained. "Most of 'em tend to take a stroll into thesun before you're finished playing with them."

Willow's lips pressed together tightly. "Oh. So... you would haveturned Buffy?" she asked, appalled and fascinated by what could havebeen. "If it weren't for the crazy thing." She hadn't realized whathappened to Slayers who were turned.

"Not bloody likely," Spike responded.

Willow slid down, nibbling at her lower lip. "I don't want to go back,you know," she stated, with another quicksilver change in topic. "ToSunnydale," she tacked on.

"Nothing surprising there, pet." Spike grinned unrepentantly whenWillow sent a withering glare in his direction.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're impossible to have a conversationwith?" she grumbled.

"I prefer putting my mouth to more enjoyable tasks than talking," Spikecountered. His smirk widened when Willow's eyes fastened on his lips,the steady beat of her heart increasing.

She closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath, and did her best to blockout the images that were cheerily invading her mind. "It wasn't thedemons, really. It's just that... You know, I don't think that there'sa single person in Sunnydale who had a good set of parents. Xander'sfather was an emotionally abusive bastard and a drunk, and his momdidn't get a damn what was happening with him; Cordelia's parentsignored her most of the time, her dad for his business and her motherbecause she was too sick to care; Amy and her mom... none too pleasant,"Willow said, counting off her friends on her fingers. "And me. Whenthey weren't on one of their trips, they treated me like some strangespecimen that wandered into their home while they weren't looking."

"Bad parents aren't exclusive to Sunnyhell," Spike said, his mindracing to follow her words, delivered so quickly after one another thatthey were barely distinguishable.

Willow shrugged. "Maybe the Hellmouth just makes it worse." Shelaughed suddenly, the sound at odds with the serious expression in hereyes. "If the Council wasn't trying to kill me, I might have suggestedthat we examine that -- Parenting on the Hellmouth: the Effects andConsequences."

"You think too much, luv."

"It's a rather hard habit to break. Maybe you should try it, every nowand then."

Willow surged forward in her seat suddenly, the blood draining from herpreviously flushed cheeks. Her hands slapped down against thedashboard, as if trying to support herself. "He found us!" she gasped.Sleep and the deceptive feeling of tranquility that had washed overWillow tore away as the subtle sense of awareness that spoke of herchild's ancestor drew at her.

She wouldn't have believed it possible, but at her words, the carmanaged to pick up more speed. Spike's face was grim as he expertlymaneuvered the hurtling car through the night. "Can you tell if he'sclose?" Spike growled curtly. His demons was howling in delight withinhim -- delighting in the threat, speed, and the potential for death thathung heavy around them.

Willow shook her head wildly. "Yes! No! I mean, he's close, but nottoo close!" she cried, unable to put to words what she instinctivelyfelt. 'What exactly was it about Erik that I liked again?'

"Bloody wonderful," Spike snarled. The car shrieked in protest, theengines straining, as unseen hands gripped the car, holding it inplace. It shuddered, straining between the pressure of Spike's foot onthe gas and the force of the hold Illianer's magic had on it.

Spike glowered at Willow. "Apparently he's close enough to trap ushere, like fucking animals!" he hissed. "Out of the car. _Now_,Willow!" he prodded. They tumbled out of the motionless car. His eyescarefully scrutinizing their surroundings, Spike grabbed Willow's clammyhand in his own, and tugged her away from the car, off the road.

"Where are we going?" Willow gasped, wishing once again that the policehadn't taken her gun. It would have done no good in her currentpredicament, but Willow felt unbearably stripped and vulnerable withonly her own defense training and a former enemy to guard her and herunborn child against an ancient mage out for blood.

Spike didn't answer, either not sure where they were heading, orunwilling to divulge the information. He glanced back over his shoulderonce, his eyes darkening. "I loved that car."
 

~Part 5~

 His power ranged outwards, spinning past the confines of his body insearch of the child whose blood would complete his bid for power andultimate immortality. It raced along the tree lined pavement, a heavyoppressive air carrying the stench of decay and old blood. Mentalfingers dug into the car held captive by the strength of his will,searching for source of the blood that called to him. The powertrembled as the man who wielded it simmered with rage and frustration atthe emptiness he found within the car. The power spilt outwards,weaving through the trembling trees in which his prey had taken refugewithin.

Blood called to him.

**********************

The first sign of trouble was in the form of a car with carefullyblackened windows, sitting motionlessly in the center of a moon washedstretch of pavement. Marcus Faringdon's fleshy white hands tightenedagainst the steering wheel of his own Council granted car, and took adeep, noisy gasp of air as he slowed the vehicle to a crawl. Thesedate, functional car drifted to a stop behind the empty one.

Marcus licked his wide lips nervously as his eyes tried to pierce thepaint slathered across the rear window in search of his waywardcolleague and the... creature whose aid she had somehow acquired inevading the Council. One hand abandoned it's death grip on the steeringwheel to search out the comfort of the simple cross tucked beneath theuncomfortably tight collar of his shirt. He pulled it free, his thumbtracing the edges of the holy symbol as if assuring himself of it'sshape and substance. He let it drop back to his chest, hangingawkwardly over his tie.

This hadn't been what he was expecting when he had first stepped intothe stately walls that housed the Council training grounds. Marcus hadnever wanted an active Slayer, nor, the responsibility of training anyof the girls who had the potential to blossom into the one bastionagainst the creatures of darkness. He had wanted little more than asteady income, and a desk job somewhere within the safety of the sturdyCouncil walls -- researching, cataloging, or serving as an errand boy,if needed -- anything but moving out into the world of vampires andmonsters where his life had a great chance of being snuffed out withouta care on the part of any of the many nightmarish creatures which roamedthe world.

And here he was, alone with nothing but his cross and his faith toprotect him, with a vampire, a deadly sorcerer out for blood, and analmost-Watcher who had proved to be not a little deadly herself. Thehand still resting against the steering wheel spasmed. "Lord, give mestrength," Marcus murmured as he reluctantly unclasped his safety beltand opened the car door.

He clumsily struggled outside. The air was cool and strangely heavyagainst his sweat slicked face. Marcus briefly considered getting backinto the car and driving onto Sunnydale where he could simply claim thathe had seen no sign of Willow on the drive over.

He stepped away from his car, and after that first difficult step,quickly shuffled over to the vehicle that had required he stop. Cuppinghis hands against the window, Marcus cautiously pressed his face againstthem, peering through the chips and lighter smears of paint. His quickscan of the car showed no sign of Willow nor the vampire who had killedthe team sent in to dispose of the young woman and her child.

Marcus' fingers trembled at the door handle as he pulled it open. Thescent of stale cigarettes and alcohol hit him as he warily clamberedinto the car. He checked the gas and found the tank sufficiently full.Finding the keys still in the ignition, Marcus cautiously test the car.It purred to life.

Quickly dismissing each possibility that came to mind, Marcus came tothe grim conclusion that the abandoned car could only mean that they hadbeen found and the vehicle forcibly stopped. His shallow, rapidbreathing seemed to fill the car. Illianer finding Willow had been theone thing that no one on the Council had been wishing for. There wasthose who wished her dead, and the threat her child presented safelydealt with. Then there was Traherne, whose goal it was to presentWillow to the near-Immortal, for a price. But having her caught whilethe Council scurried around in vain would benefit no one and harmeveryone.

Marcus tumbled out of the car, raising his face to the star studded skyand dragging in deep breaths of the tainted air. He gagged at thesubtle... foulness to it, his face going pale. "I'm not made forthis..." he protested weakly as he glanced at each side of the road.The trees to his right seemed to have bent slightly, looking wilted andsickly. "Oh no. I'm not going in there," he muttered.

He looked down at his neat dress shoes and suffocating tweed suit. Hethought of Willow, summoning to mind the image of her as he had firstseen her -- young, excited, and brimming with determination andgoodness. He thought of Travers, and Traherne, all of the dour facedmen and women who were even now still arguing over her fate.

And with a defeated sigh, he followed after her.
 

~Part 6~

 Willow shrieked and tumbled forward, her skin crawling where the heavycloak of Ilianer's power had settled over her. She rolled down theslight incline that she had been descending when he caught up with them,yelping as her loosely tumbling body impacted with rocks and roots thatspread out upon the ground. Spike wobbled when Willow slammed into hislegs, but remained standing.

He pulled Willow to her feet even as golden eyes warily scanned theirsurroundings. "How the fuck are we supposed to fight something thatisn't here?" he growled, sharp senses noting the slight wavering whenhis eyes met where Illianer's power pooled, and the stench of death thatwas strongest at that point.

The air rippled and solidified, and Willow found herself facingsomething that looked like a bigger, uglier cousin of a werewolf. "Thathere enough for you?" she said, her voice cracking with fear. Duringher years working with the Council, and with Buffy before that, Willowhad come up against more dangerous creatures than she cared to recall.But then, she'd been prepared with weapons, knowledge, or plans. Andshe'd very rarely had another life dependent on her actions -- eitherher companions were capable of handling themselves, or she was facingthe creature alone. At that moment, Willow was acutely aware of thelife she was carrying.

The beast howled and sprang forward, thrusting forward with it'spowerful hind legs. It bypassed Willow, concentrating of removing Spikefrom the equation. The vampire cursed and jumped away from thecreature's flashing claws. His lips peeled back into a warning growl asthe two predators stalked around each other.

Willow tore her eyes away from the two combatants when they met in aflurry of growls and blows. She wildly scanned the ground in search ofsomething that would allow her to play a larger and more constructivepart in the fight than that of 'helpless damsel'.

'Big sticks. Rocks. Something! Goddess, how hard can it be to findrocks! I ran into enough of the way down,' she thought. Making surenot to attract the beast's notice, Willow slowly dropped into a crouch.Her hands ranged out, probing at the damp, leaf covered ground in searchof a weapon.

She cast a quick prayer of thanks towards her Goddess when her questinghand latched onto a suitably large rock which had been neatly concealedby the thick layer of fallen leaves. Willow rose cautiously, meagerweapon in hand, and watched for an opening.

Spike made a sound halfway between a growl and a scream and torehimself away from the beast. His shoulder was bleeding, the bit woundshowing clearly against his pale skin where the layer of coat and shirthad been torn away. Rage settled across his features, proclaiming thatthere would be no strategic running from this fight. The injury hadwakened a primal need for retaliation.

Scenting blood in the air, the beast growled, stalking forward in whatseemed a deliberately threatening manner. 'Can't let Spike have all thefun,' Willow told herself firmly as she broke free of her terrifiedparalysis and lunged forward, hoping that she wouldn't do something asdeadly as trip and leave herself completely open to the creature'sattack.

Putting every bit of strength she possessed into it, Willow drew herarm back and shot the rock at the beast. She cursed when her weapon didnothing more than harmlessly bounce off of one of the creature's massiveshoulders. It's head twisted, crimson eyes pinning her in place.

"You were supposed to run!" Spike snarled, wildly clutching at thecreature as it turned away from him in favour of Willow. His handswound around it's thin, wiry tail, his shoulders bunching as he foughtto pull it back. 'I didn't go through this just to see my investmentget herself killed!'

Willow didn't answer, as at that moment, running appeared to be a verygood option, afterall. 'I want my gun back!' she thought, rememberingthe vast array of weaponry the Council had provided her with in the daysbefore Erik, their child, and a certain power hungry ancestor.

"Good God!" a startled, rather faint sounding voice exclaimed from thetop of the incline that Willow had fallen down, mere moments earlier.Willow swirled around, and found Marcus staring down at them, his wideface looking strangely pinched. His eyes rolled wildly as he stumbledback a step.

Willow's frantically racing mind latched onto a thought at theWatcher's appearance. Watchers didn't usually carry weapons, but ifMarcus was looking for her, which he certainly was, then there was agreat possibility that he might just have one. No matter what side hewas on, a gun would have come in useful -- either to kill her, or toensure her cooperation until he got her back into the hands of theirsuperiors.

"Do you have a gun?" she shrieked.

He looked at her blankly for a long, drawn out moment before her wordsfinally penetrated his fear clouded mind. His hand fumbled beneath hisjacket and awkwardly pulled the weapon out. He fumbled with it,obviously not at ease with the feel of it, and promptly shot a tree.

"Over here!" Willow screamed. "No! No shooting!" she exclaimed whenhe shifted, the weapon pointed towards her. Willow risked a quickglance in Spike's direction, and immediately regretted it. The two ofthem were a mess of blood and unnaturally twisted body parts. Unlessshe was mistaken, the odd bent to Spike's left arm was signalling thatit had been broken.

Her heart pounding in fear, and her throat tight with a burst ofinappropriate, nearly hysterical laughter she was bitting down on,Willow inched away from the twisted, snarling forms of her attacker andunexpected protector. She scrambled up the slight hill, easily pullingthe weapon from Marcus' limp white hand.

Bracing herself against one of the numerous roots she had hit earlier,Willow wound both hands around the gun. She took in a deep breath,trying to still the trembling in her hands. She bottled away heremotions, focusing all of her attention on the beast's furry head asit's curved claws, streaked red with Spike's blood, slashed across thevampire's chest.

The shot was loud in Willow's ears, overriding their snarls and thesickening sound of tearing flesh. The creature shuddered as the firstshot hit it's immense, fur covered haunch.

The beast howled and turned, it's lips drawn back to revealdistressingly large teeth. Aiming a final strike at Spike's body, thebeast rose off of the vampire and stalked towards Willow and Marcus onwobbling legs.

"Goddess help us," Willow whispered as she took careful aim once more.The creature watched her with alien crimson eyes and bounded forwardwith unexpected speed. Willow shrieked, desperately pulling the triggerin the desperate hope that she'd do enough damage before the creaturelanded on her and stripped away every advantage the weapon gave her.

Sounds gained in volume, unreal and overwhelming -- Marcus' hystericalscreaming behind her, the creature's whines, the sound of the gun, herheartbeat, her breath -- only to shatter apart when a massive bodycollapsed on top of her, knocking Willow back into the ground. Theworld went black around her.

"Are you sure it's dead?" a worried voice inquired, piercing the thickfog of pain and exhaustion that hovered around Willow.

"Yes, I'm sure the bloody dog is dead! And unless you want to join it,help me pull it off of her!" an angry voice snapped back. It seemedfamiliar and oddly comforting.

She felt something shift above her, and found that she could once againbreath. Willow cautiously opened her eyes, and found Spike peering downat her. "We win?" she coughed out.

Spike nodded, and helped draw her into a sitting position.

"Yes, well. That is well enough," Marcus said, sounding breathless andrather wobbly, "but what exactly are we to do now?"
 

~Part 7~

Willow slumped back into Spike's good arm, which he promptly woundabout her waist. Despite her weariness and the numbness that hadsettled over her with the end of the immediate threat, she did not allowherself to drop her head against Spike's chest and close her eyes. Thebeast was dead, but there was still it's master to contend with, alongwith the Council.

Thoughts of her previous employers sent her gaze in Marcus' direction.His large, soft body looked awkward in his confining tweed suit -- nowlittered with leaves and dirt, evidence of his missteps before he hadreached them. He looked absurd and far from dangerous, but Willow knewthat he served as the assistant to one of the Council members who hadmost vehemently argued the benefits of handing her over to Illianer andallowing her unborn child to be sacrificed.

"Are you going to try to contact the Council?" Willow asked, her voicehard and threatening. "Because injured or not, Spike's still more thandemon enough to rip you to pieces."

Marcus blanched, his eyes darting back and forth between Willow and theblood soaked, grinning vampire who supported her. He looked about readyto collapse into a dead faint. "N-no," he stuttered. "I don't have anyway to contact them, even had I wished to -- my phone is in the car."

"Good. Spike, help me get over to that... thing, would you," sheasked. "We have to get Illianer now, while he's still weakened by theloss of his pet. We may not ever get another chance to catch him whilehe's reeling like this. If we don't act now, we're as good as dead."

Spike helped shuffle Willow over to the sprawled dog-like creature thathad come uncomfortably close to ending his unlife and watched Willow'sactions with interest. "What exactly are you planning to do with thedog?" he asked, crouched down next to her, showing little outwarddiscomfort from his numerous injuries. Willow took a moment to envythat seeming lack pain, her own minor injuries doing a good enough jobof making her miserable despite being far from serious.

"This was his pet, and he was controlling it by magic. So, I should beable to follow the trail back to him," Willow explained. "In case thischance came up, I didn't want to risk using my magic against thecreature -- it would have given Illianer time to configure his personalshields against my power. Even now, with the advantage of surprise andhis weakened state, I'm not sure if what I'm about to do will serve anypurpose other than to fry my brain."

Her hands hovered above the matted brown fur covering the creature'schest, and Willow was pleased to note that the trembling was barelyvisible. She closed her eyes, and unleashed her magical senses,delicately picking around the creature in search of the torn thread thathad tied it's life to it's master. Her lips quirked into a tiny smilewhen her careful search proved successful.

"Found it," she whispered triumphantly. "If this doesn't work, Isuggest you get the hell out of here as fast as possible," Willowquietly told her two companions.

She didn't hear Marcus' nervous demand for answers, as Willow wasalready drifting along the delicate threat, pulsating with the power ofspilt blood and death with which Illianer controlled his creatures andbased his power. She hadn't expected to be able to confront herwould-be captor. It was terrifying to be doing just that.

She felt a soft flutter of energy, and Willow's eyes widened. Aghostly hand reached down to rest upon her stomach. 'Why didn't I thinkof this before?!' she wondered. 'Blood is power for him... and as mychild is of his blood, I have a potential weapon against him! But I'llhave to time this carefully, or he could use the blood bond himself.'

Her descent along the tie between master and servant slid to a stop asIllianer's astral form took shape before her. He was large, a creatureof shadow streaked with flashed of red the same colour as that which hadfilled the beast's eyes. Where it moved, light and warmth shiveredaway.

"You fight _me_, child?" he spoke, the words ringing in her head --loud and forceful. "You put yourself within my reach."

"You didn't give me any other choice."

***********************

Spike's uninjured arm tightened around Willow as she jerked back in asharp, jerky motion. Her head flung backwards, red hair flying outbehind her to swing in Spike's face, as if she had been struck. Hecould see a fine trickle of blood oozing from the corner of one side ofher tight-lipped mouth, the smell of the fresh blood overwhelmed by thatwhich had been shed earlier.

Marcus was prowling back and forth beyond the open car door, his handsclasped behind his slumped back. He stopped, bending at the door, andlooked into the car's interior. Willow's face looked drawn and sicklybeneath the overhead light. Seeing the blood, the Watcher's eyes wentwide. "Oh my. Is Mrs. Rosenburg-Starsmore alright, do you think?" heasked.

Spike glowered at him, annoyed by the title of 'Mrs' joined with thatthankfully dead wanker's name. "As well as she can be considering she'sgoing up against someone whose out to kill her," he growled. Willowhissed, her body arching in the circle of Spike's arm, and heimmediately looked back down towards her.

Fingering his cross, Marcus cautiously brought up the question that hadbeen plaguing him since the discovery that a vampire was aiding theyoung woman. "What precisely do you wish from Mrs--" Spike's expressiondarkened further. "Uh, that is, Ms. Rosenburg?"

Feather-light, Spike's finger traced the line of blood winding downWillow's face. "I've gotten spoiled -- after Dru, bachelor life doesn'tseem as amusing as I recall." He grinned at Marcus' gasp, beforebrining his finger to his lips and cleaning Willow's blood from it.Marcus swallowed nervously and looked away.

"I don't think Ms. Rosenburg will find that to her liking..." Marcussuggested.

"I'm sure that I can convince her of the many benefits to what I'moffering her," Spike replied carelessly. "And either way, she won'tcare once she's shown first hand what it means to be a vampire." 'Ifshe gets out of this in one piece,' he amended silently.

Willow gasped, her eyes flying open as a sudden outburst of energy madeeverything around them rock. Marcus tumbled to the ground at theunexpected movement, while the car which held Spike and Willowtrembled. The Watcher climbed to his knees and scooted towards the car,thrusting his head into the interior to peer at Willow.

"She's alive?"

"Yes," Spike answered, listening to the thready sound of her pulse.

"She... she won, then?"

"Do I look like I know?" Spike snarled irritably. "But we're leavingeither way." His eyes flashed gold when he looked at the Watcher.

Marcus swallowed noisily. "I won't try to stop you. I... I neveragreed with killing her, or trying to trade her to Illianer. TheCouncil has done some... unpleasant things, but I'm not willing to be apart of a cold blooded murder." He looked towards the trees andsighed. "I'll... I'll tell them that you died, fighting the beast. Itshould give you at least a few weeks. If we're all lucky, they may evenbelieve me."

Long after they left, Marcus remained seated on the hood of his car,watching the road. He had saved her life, only to risk her soul to thehands of a demon. One evil for another. But he was beginning to thinkthat, with the Council, there wasn't anything else from which to choose.
 

~Epilogue~

 Willow hesitated at the door for the briefest of moments before herfinger jabbed into the doorbell. She could hear the chimes ringinginside the house, beyond the barrier that held her outside, washed inlight by the moon's gentle glow. The gentle rise and fall of her chestincreased it's tempo as the door swung open.

His hair was in disarray, tweed jacket and vest abandoned, but stillcarrying the same spirit she remembered. "Willow!" Giles exclaimed insurprised pleasure. "Buffy will be so pleased to see you," he said,smiling warmly. "Come--"

Willow shook her head, red hair shifting against her shoulders at theslow motion. "Shh..." she told him, her finger raising as if to pressagainst his lips. The shimmering blue barrier that sprang up stoppedher movement, but Willow left her finger in place, resting lightlyagainst the proof of her change.

Giles' lips parted slightly, his breath escaping him in a low hiss."Oh, Willow..." he said helplessly, fighting back tears at the thoughtthat the young woman that he had known and watched grow into a beautifuland mature adult was gone, slipping out of their lives before they'd hada chance to draw and hold her to them. "Who?"

"It's not important now, Giles. It's too late... and I'm happy." Herlips quirked, a familiar expression that made the former Watcher's heartache. "At least this way the blood on my hands fits." She paused,sharp green eyes moving past Giles' still form to rest on the little boyperched on the stairway, watching her with curious eyes.

"He's adorable, Giles. And happy. I always thought that you'd make agood daddy," she told him. He stiffened slightly. "Don't worry, I'mnot here to do the usual vamp routine. I wanted to ask you to dosomething for me, for what I was, before."

Giles voice was wavering when he spoke. "Tell me what you want."

Willow gestured, nearly laughing at the expression on her old friend'sface when he saw who had accompanied her. The laughter died in herthroat as she accepted the small bundle from Spike's arms, tears takingtheir place. A cool hand ran over the soft skin of the tiny handthrusting from the blanket. "Take my baby, Giles. Please. I want herto have the parents that she deserves."

"Willow?" Giles said uncertainly, already reaching out. Their handsmet beneath the child for a moment before Willow allowed her daughter topass out of her grasp. "I... We'll take care of her, Willow. Ipromise."

Willow bent, fumbling at the bag that had sat, unnoticed, at her feet.She pulled a notebook out from among the baby care products that filledit. "It's all in here, Giles. A journal of everything that happened,just like all good Council employees keep. Let her see it, if she needsto." She nudged book and bag towards Giles.

"If anything ever threatens her, I'll come." Her face crumpled. "Tellmy baby that I did love her," Willow whispered before darting off thefront step, fleeing into the darkness.

Spike glowered at Giles. "Hurt the kid, hurt Willow, and I'll rip yourfucking head off," he stated before turning on his heel and followingWillow.

Giles stared into the night for a long minute before shutting the doorfirmly. "Buffy! I think that you should come here, honey!" he calledas the baby began to wail.

***************************

At the edge of the driveway, Spike wound his arms around Willow'swaist. She leaned against him, her body trembling. "Do you hate me forturning you now, luv?"

"Never that, Spike," she sighed, moving up into a hard kiss. When shepulled away, she was smiling, agony in her eyes. "Let's hunt -- I needto kill something," she said, pulling out of his arms. She moved awayfrom the house and the last of her humanity without another look back.

~End~

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