~Part 1~

Spike finally looked up from his third empty blood bag to stare at his benefactor, but what he saw in her eyes made him look away in disgust.  Her green eyes were full of pity for him, and something else too, but all he saw was the pity.

"Why?" he croaked, finally taking a look around the boiler room that she had practically dragged his lifeless body into.

Willow backed away with a shrug.  "I have my reasons."

Spike grunted as he staggered to his feet.  "If you think this changes anything, little girl, you're dead wrong.  I don't owe you a thing!"

"I know...you don't owe me anything.  We're even now." Willow turned to go, but Spike latched on to her arm and pulled her away from the door.

His eyes narrowed in suspicion.  "Even?  How?" he asked, letting go of her but blocking her exit.

"It will sound silly...it is silly, which is probably why it sounds that way..." she said softly, her face turning red.

"That's all right.  I could use a good chuckle...the Hellmouth just doesn't bring me the laughs it used to," he grumbled.

Willow smiled weakly.  "When you came in...to kill Buffy...or whomever...tonight, I had been wishing I were dead.   At least until you offered your, um, services in that area.  Suddenly, faced with actual death, I realized I wanted to live and that I have a lot to live for...my friends,school, even my family--"

Spike cut her off.  "You were thinking about offing yourself when I came in? That's a bloody waste when all you have to do is ask..."

Willow stared at her shoes in embarrassment, not wanting to admit even to herself what she may have done while in her despair.  "No, not suicide so much as just wondering what the point of everything is, you know?  You give everything you have to something...to someone...until you forget who you are...until you no longer know where you stop and the other person starts, and then one day...*poof*...half of you just walks away, and you're left there...not even the shell of a person anymore...just a half a person...and all you can feel is the pain where there used to be a part of your life." Realizing she had been rambling like a love-sick school girl, Willow sheepishly looked up at the vampire.  With some relief, she noted that he wasn't even looking at her. Instead, he was now staring at the floor with a pained expression on his face.    "Sorry, I- I can't explain it..." she stammered.

Snapping out of his Drusilla thoughts, Spike smirked. "That love spell you were concocting last year when we had our little party didn't work?"

Willow's eyes flashing in anger at the mocking tone of his voice.  "I never did a love spell on Oz! I never needed to! If I recall, you were the one that was crying over a lost love that day so drop the 'I'm too evil for love' routine cuz I'm not buying it, buster."

Spike stood up straight.  "That was a long time ago, luv.    I've moved on...got a new little woman who adores me, and--"

Willow laughed bitterly and attempted to pace in the tiny room.  "Harmony? Yeah...figures you would choose her...men are all the same...blonde
hair...pouty lips...doesn't matter if she thinks Mussolini is an Italian hair gel or...or...even if she sprouts hair all over her body three nights a month... as long as she's sexy."

Spike shook his in bewildered amusement at her display of teenage angst. "I'd watch what I say about Harm, if I were you.  She wants me to kill you first, you know. It seems she doesn't like you very much."

Willow rolled her eyes.  Suddenly she was supposed to care if Harmony liked her or not?  No...this was not High School and she would not allow herself to care what Harmony thought of her.   "Can I go now?  Please? I've better things to do than sit around and discuss your vapid girlfriends."

"Like lie on your bed trying to decide whether life after some boy is worth it?" Spike stepped away from the door to let her leave.  "Good thing I couldn't bite you, Pet.  Last thing we need around here is another little girl moping over some boy for all eternity."

Ignoring him, Willow opened the door but stopped before she could leave.  "I won't tell Buffy," she said without turning around.  "But if we find anything out about the masked guys, I'll try and let you know, somehow."

He took a step closer.  "And again I have to ask 'why?'"

"They were going to take me too, you know...and you stopped them.  I don't know if you did it on purpose, or by accident, but still...you kinda saved me from being, um, recruited.  So, if you...learn anything about them...it would be, well, nice if you would tell me, too.  It'd only be fair..."

He took another step closer to her, but she still didn't turn around.  "I don't play fair, witch."

Willow sighed, realizing how stupid she'd been to think he would help her in anyway.  "Fine...I'll figure it out on my own,"  she said resignedly, then
she stepped through and closed the door behind her.
 

~Part 2~

As soon as his benefactor closed the door behind her, Spike slumped, catching himself against the wall. It had taken all of his willpower to walk towards her a moment ago, to look as if he was still strong. Bad enough that he'd been saved by the girl, he'd not show any more weakness in front of her.

But with her out of the room, he could relax his guard, let the pain roll through him as his starved body used the blood she'd provided to knit itself back together.  The superficial cuts and scrapes were easily healed.  Deeper wounds like the broken collarbone he'd acquired in his headlong flight out of the dorm window would take longer.  But even after three packets of blood, it wasn't enough.  The hunger still gnawed at him, singing along his nerves and he couldn't do a damn thing about it.

"Blood, blood everywhere, and not a bloody drop to drink."   His words echoed strangely back to him.  The profusion of metal pipes around him creating odd acoustics.

Resigning himself to being stuck in this place until he was fully healed, he let curiosity overcome the dull throbbing within his body.  Steeling himself, he explored his new home.  What he found impressed him. The little witch has obviously put some thought into this.  A stack of blankets sat neatly on a metal folding chair.  Next to the chair a small Styrofoam cooler sat with more packets of blood.  'What had she done, ripped off a blood bank?'

But it was only a passing thought as he reached immediately for another packet of blood.  Ripping into it, he savored the chill taste of the blood as it slid down his throat.  He could almost feel his strength returning with each swallow.  As he slowly sucked on the bag, he looked around himself again.  He'd been completely out of it.  He remembered the little witch dragging him in here, but he didn't remember her setting up the blankets or the chair.  'Where *had* she gotten the blood?'

He'd been completely helpless, totally at her mercy, and she'd still helped him rather than stake him.  Her explanation earlier couldn't be the whole truth. She had to have a hidden agenda, everyone did.  No one was that  . . .

"Innocent."  The word was spoken aloud, laced with as much disgust as he could put into it.

Unless she was.  There were times when he didn't understand humans.  He most certainly didn't understand this girl.  Another thought occurred to
him.  'Did he even know the little witch's name?'

Damn.  The chit saved his life and he didn't even have a name for her.  Not that he would have been concerned with her name before.  Before, she'd just been a sweet meal.  He hadn't been lying before when he said that he'd remembered her and that pink sweater from the year before.  But that had simply been bloodlust, a demon's appreciation.  She hadn't needed a name, an identity.   Now she was real, she'd earned her own
recognition as an individual as much as the Slayer had.

A sneer twisted his lips at the thought of the Slayer. He'd been sure that the people that had nabbed him were working with the Slayer.  Finishing off the bag he'd been drinking, he reached for another and then stopped, his hand outreached.  Bloody Hell.  He was going to have to ration himself.  Until he could find himself alternate sources of blood, this was it.

Which brought him back to the girl and her offer.  If the bastards who'd grabbed him weren't working with the Slayer, then they were an unknown.  They had wanted to turn him into a lab rat.  Considering his success at hunting after his escape, they had done something to him.  Anger rising, face shifting to reflect his true nature, Spike growled, a low menacing sound.  Someone thought to control him; had dared to leash him like some dog being brought to heel.  That shadowy someone was going to pay.  And it if meant sharing information with the girl, then he would share.

*****

Willow sat on her bed, staring down at her hands. 'Good Goddess, what had she done?'  It had seemed so simple at the time.  She hadn't really been thinking, just running on adrenaline and instinct and the knowledge that Spike could help.

She'd been shocked when she'd heard the woman's scream, followed almost immediately by a masculine shout of pain.  She hadn't thought, she'd just run towards the sound, only to catch a glimpse of a female student fleeing down the path and Spike lying curled up in a ball on the sidewalk.

That was when she'd stopped thinking and looking back on it now, it almost seemed as if she was watching someone else drag the half conscious vampire back to the dorm's boiler room, watched some other red-headed woman race across campus to the biology lab to steal packets of  blood.   Idly she wondered at her morals. When had she become so immune to the idea of stealing and sneaking in to places she didn't belong?  What did
that say about her that she'd become as adept as any thief at picking locks?

And it was all for nothing.  She'd rescued him.  Fed him.  For what?  He'd made it clear he wasn't interested in helping to find out who the commando guys were.  He'd made it perfectly clear that he didn't trust her or like her.  He wasn't going to help.

She put her head down into her hands, a sigh of defeat slipping free.  'I am so stupid.  He isn't going to help and I just moved Spike into the basement of my dorm.  Buffy is going to kill me.'

***

Willow heard the door open and assuming it was Buffy returning from her study session, she plastered a brightly fake smile on her face and hoped her best friend wouldn't see right through it. The smile faltered as she caught Spike leaning insolently against the door jam.

Even knowing he couldn't hurt her, she still shivered in reaction, some part of her recognizing the predator and urging her to run.

"Do you have a name, little girl?"

The question caught her by complete surprise and she blinked dumbly at him for a few second until she caught one dark eyebrow rise in annoyance.

"Willow."

"Willow," he repeated, rolling it around his tongue, tasting the word as he stared at her with blank eyes that gave nothing of his thoughts away.  "Yes, I remember now.  Angelus mentioned making the Willow weep tears of blood.  He always was an overly melodramatic bastard."

Willow didn't know what to say to that and even her gift for babbling seemed to have deserted her.  So she simply waited while he stared at her with his head cocked to the side.  She had the distinct impression that she was being evaluated and weighed and she straightened her back and firmed her resolve in response to that icy blue stare.
 

~Part 3~

But Spike still didn't speak.  He watched and waited until Willow gave in and spoke first.

"Not that you aren't lively company, Spike, but *why* are you here?"

"It's simple, luv," he started. "Either I'm here to bloody humiliate myself a little more by trying to kill you, or I've thought about your offer... although... even that is rather humiliating."

"And...?"

Spike stayed in the doorway, letting his peripheral vision keep guard for possible trouble.  "And, I thought we should have a little swap.  I'll tell you
what I know, you tell me what you know, and perhaps we can come to some sort of temporary arrangement."

Willow smiled in spite of herself, relieved that she hadn't made him a resident of the Slayer's dorm for nothing.  "Well, they're big, well trained, and have a lot of firepower.  Your turn."

Spike's eyes narrowed.  "That's all you know? Bloody hell...er...Willow!  I already knew that much, since I was the one the damned wankers were gunning for!"

For the first time, someone was actually doubting her researching abilities, and the redhead's pride was wounded.  "Hey! That's all I have so far, but I'll get more.  I've just been a little busy...  " She trailed off, a little ashamed of herself for her recent bouts of sluggishness that resulted in little researching, studying, or even eating, for that matter.  'Yeah, you were too busy feeling sorry yourself over Oz' she reminded herself.  "...but I do have, um, sources, and ways of finding out things.  I'll have more information soon, but it'd help if you'd tell me everything you know....give me somewhere to start."

Spike didn't budge, disappointment rooting him to his spot in the doorway.  He studied her for one more moment, noting how her innocent eyes were practically pleading for him to have faith in her, but he couldn't let go of the mistrust, no matter what she'd done for him.  "Forget it.  I must be brain dead to think you could help me.  Besides, you're the Slayer's friend, which means this is just some plot to catch me off guard." He turned abruptly and walked out the door.

"Wait...Spike..." she called after him, jumping from the bed to rush to the doorway.  "You have to trust me...you *can* trust me! What can I do to prove it?" she queried, but as she looked up and down the hallway, the vampire was no longer in sight.

Willow slumped back against the door frame, sliding down to the floor.  "Great.  Vampires don't trust me. What does that say about the image I project? I mean, I dragged him into the boiler room, didn't I? I got him blood...heck, I *stole* blood and even did some 'breaking and entering' for him, and he still doesn't trust me," she grumbled dejectedly.  "What'll it take? A blood oath?" Willow ended her tirade with a long, stress-relieving sigh, but it didn't help.

"Is that an offer?"

Willow looked up to find Spike strolling back up the hallway.  His jaw was set as he watched her, and once again he seemed to be searching for something within her.

Just the sight of him walking toward her, staring at her, made her forget what she'd been thinking only seconds before.  "What?"

The vampire crouched down before her, bringing his face level to hers.  "You said something about a blood oath..."

When Spike had stormed out of Willow's room only moments before, he'd only made it around the corner before he stopped.  He'd been scarcely able to contain himself and was ready to beat his head against the wall in frustration when all he really wanted to do was sink his teeth into the smorgasbord of young blood donors that was milling around.  That was when he'd heard her slight voice echoing down the hallway as she babbled her way through her own irritation.  When she'd mentioned a blood oath, his feet were already heading back to her.

Willow looked nervously up and down the hall at the few students that were wandering around.  "We shouldn't talk about this here..."

"What are you afraid of?" Spike leered, leaning forward so he could lower his voice.  "'Fraid you'll ruin your reputation?"

Willow's eyes widened as she shook her head gently. "No...I'm...it's just that...well..."

"Ah...you're terrified that your old boyfriend will think you've moved on?" He was trying to hurt her, although he didn't know exactly why.  It simply seemed natural to the vampire that if he was in pain, then everyone else should be as well.  And he succeeded.

Willow's face fell as thoughts of Oz came flooding back.  Looking away from the cocky vampire, Willow grimly pushed herself to her feet and went back into her room.  "You know, this isn't the best way to start a working relationship."

"Sorry, luv, but I failed the Dale Carnegie course in 'How to Win Friends and Influence People'.  I kept killing the instructors.  Now, about that little blood swap you suggested..." Spike followed her into the room, closed the door behind him, and grabbed a desk chair.  Turning it around, the vampire straddled it, resting his forearms across the back.

Willow couldn't make herself sit on her bed in front of him; it was just too intimate.  Instead she started a gentle pace between the two beds.  "I just wanted to exchange information Spike, not gain eternal life, remember? But, um, thanks anyway..."

Spike growled softly with impatience.  "Look, Pet. Let's cut to the chase already, shall we? There is a bunch of bloody GI Joes, running about the place, looking to do horrible things to vampires.  From what I saw, they were quite willing to extend their little war games to your world as well.  I want answers, and you're better equipped to get those answers than I am, seeing as you're still alive and all..."

Willow listened, nodding her head in agreement now and then.

Problem is," he continued, "I don't bloody trust you. You're the Slayer's little sidekick, and I am the Slayer's favorite thing to kick, right? So--"

"Catwoman."

Spike was so caught up in delivering his little speech, that any word from the girl's mouth would have thrown him off his stride, but considering her choice of words, he was practically agape with bewilderment. "Pardon?"

"Um, C-Catwoman and Batman." She was a little more nervous now that his focus was totally on her again.

Spike just shook his head.  "You're going to have to give me a little more than that, luv, because if you don't explain yourself, I'll be calling for the blokes with the big white coats."

Her pacing sped up, her eyes darting anxiously between the floor and Spike.  "Catwoman and Batman teamed up a few times, even though they were mortal enemies."

"Am I supposed to be Batman...just because of the cape...bats...vampires...that whole stereotype?"

Willow scrunched up her forehead as she quickly thought her little analogy through.  "No, since I'm the good guy, that would make me Batman and you Catwoman."

Spike forced a sigh.  He didn't have time for this, even if he was eternal.  "And your point is?"

"Like I said before, if they worked together and didn't kill each other, so can we." As Spike stared at her, Willow suddenly felt like the world's biggest
idiot...or geek...  'Both! Goddess Willow...you're talking about making a truce with a demon...Spike, no less...and all you can do is babble on about old campy TV shows!'

He watched as her pace quickened and her face reddened.  'Bloody hell...' he griped silently to himself, 'is working with her going to be worth it? I
mean, drinking bagged blood really isn't so horrible. If Angel...' As soon as he realized he was about to follow in his sire's footsteps, at least as far as his diet was concerned, Spike firmed his resolve.  He was disgusted with himself for even thinking about it, but they still had some details to work out.  "Look...it's going to take more than picturing you in a tight leather bat outfit to make me trust you.  It's gonna take blood...after all, it was your idea--"

She stopped in her tracks, her confused green eyes meeting his tired blues.  "But--"

"Crikey, shut your gob and listen for a moment, all right?" He ignored the look of annoyance that flashed in her face at his insulting tone.  "It's just a
little ceremony...  an ancient ritual, some fancy words, I drink your blood, you drink mine," he said in a matter of fact tone, like it were an every-day occurrence.  "But the crux of it is, that you'd be my childe, and as such, it'd be very poor form of you to stake me in the back, so to speak."

"Y-you will be my sire yet I'll still be alive?"

He nodded his head.  "Like I said, it's symbolic, mostly, but it would prove to me that you're serious...and basically trustworthy.  Besides, it's
already painfully obvious that I can't harm a single hair on your pretty little head, so there's nothing for you to worry about, is there? It's my bloody neck that's on the line here."

She thought about it for a moment but couldn't seem to get passed the biting aspect of the oath.  "Would I have to, well, you know...actually bite you?"

Spike laughed.  The thought of the little redhead biting him tickled his fancy.  "No...," he chuckled. "Usually the biting is reserved for the undead in
these sorts of binding rituals, but since I can't seem to even perform my demonly duties, we may have to settle for a sharp knife and a goblet, or something.

"Oh...well...that's not so bad," she lied, her pacing beginning once again in earnest.  "All I have to do is cut my wrist, let my life's blood drip into a cup, and you'll do the same and then I drink it...sort of like a toast or something...sure...I can do that..." Inside, her thoughts were of the opposite position. 'Oh Goddess...this isn't good.  I can't do this...drink blood! Ewww....I can't...and what if he isn't telling me everything?'

"Good," Spike said, standing up and looking about the small dorm room.  "Where do you keep your knives? The really sharp ones?"

Willow started to panic as various deafening warning bells chimed in her head.  "Um, tell you what, Spike. Buffy should be back from patrol any minute, so why don't you escape while you can, and I'll find a knife, wash my wrists really well, grab a couple of glasses and meet you in the boiler room, okay?"

Spike cocked his head to the side.  'What are you up to?' "Willow..."

Willow folded like a house of cards.  "Okay...I admit it...you got it out of me...I'm scared...and I wanna do some fast research and make sure that when I die of old age...very old age...some day...this won't make me a vampire or something.  That's the truth, okay? Please, Spike? Just give me an hour or two and I'll be there."

'Bloody hell...she actually told me the truth!' He'd half-expected her to look into it.  She didn't seem like the type of girl that was very spontaneous when it came to a demon's brand of fun, but he never thought she would admit it.  'Odd girl.' He stalked closer to her, until he had her backed against her bed, then glared down at her.  "Research your heart out.  You'll find I told you the truth, luv.  All it'll do is make us closer...less likely to betray the other.  You won't be a bloody zombie, I won't be able to control your thoughts or actions, or read your mind-- thank bloody God-- but it's the only way I'll be able to trust you." He took a step back and grinned devilishly.  "One hour, Willow...and then we'll be like family." Spike turned and walked out the door.

Once he was gone, Willow collapsed on the bed, wondering what she had done in a previous life to warrant this.  She wanted to help.  Really, she did. Truth be told, mainly she wanted to help Buffy, which meant saving the world from evil.  This time, however, that meant helping Spike, which for some scary reason, didn't seem so bad.  But, the vampire had trust issues, so in order to help, she was going to have to 'bond' with him.  The thought sent a chill down her spine, but she shook it off.  There was no time to waste.

She quickly booted up her laptop and checked her favorite occult and mythology web sites.  From what she could tell, everything he'd said was true.  The 'Blood Bond' was used by vampires to create loyalty in their human followers, concubines, and the like, but it was in no way controlling.  Plus, the bonding ritual didn't appear to turn the human into a vampire if they did die of 'natural causes'.

She mulled it over for a while, but as time ticked away she still had reservations.  As a last resort, she called Giles.  She explained that she was reading a really bad vampire-romance novel that involved an unusual bond, and that it had set her brain into motion, wondering if it was factual at all.  After a quick speech about how disappointed he was in her choice of literature, he informed her than in the 'real world' the Vampire Oath of Fealty did not give the vampire any real control over the bound one, it just helped to ensure their loyalty.

After hanging up the phone, she stared at it for a while, weighing her options.  It took her a few moments to come to terms with the fact that not only would she be loyal to him, but he would also feel the same loyalty to her.  They would be allies, fighting for a common cause and as such, he would have little time to torment the Slayer.  That realization made her decision for her, and before she knew it, Willow was rummaging through Buffy's stash of weapons.

After concealing a particularly sharp knife, she reached for a couple of glasses from the sink but then changed her mind and grabbed a couple of paper cups instead.  Last thing she needed was to think of blood every time she drank Coke out of her favorite college mug.

***

The knock on the door was so quiet, that Spike almost missed it.  When he unlocked and opened the door, he was pleasantly surprised to see a fidgety Willow standing there.

"Okay...I'm ready...to do the, um, blood-drinking thing..." she told the vampire through a nervous smile.

Spike stepped back to let her in but then caught sight of what she had in her hands-- tiny, little, paper Dixie cups, covered in pink hearts and purple flowers, no less.  "Bloody hell, Wendy! You expect me to drink your blood from that?"
 

~Part 4~

"Willow."  She replied automatically, as she tried to stifle her annoyed thoughts.  `It's only been a couple of hours.   I'm not *that* forgettable.'

But Spike just smirked at her tone of annoyance.  "So, *Wendy,*" taking care to emphasize the new name he'd christened her with, "what did your research tell you? Did I lie?"

"No," she answered, setting down her burden of ritual and first aid supplies.  Trying to contain her nervousness, she busied herself around the room,
pulling over a wooden crate to use as a table and piling up the blankets to make herself a makeshift pillow.  The chair she left for Spike.  "I checked.
You didn't lie.  Surprisingly enough," she added under her breath.

Watching Willow's uneasy movements around the room, Spike felt his own nervousness rise.  He'd never actually done this with a human before.  Oh, he'd seen it done, but Angelus had never been one for human servants and any human lover he'd taken invariably ended up dead by morning.  Having a human in the family required a certain amount of strength of will and patience that most vampires, except for the older masters, never achieved.   However, in his case, the very fact that he couldn't harm the girl ensured that she'd live a nice long life.  At least until whatever those bloody bastards had done to him was reversed.

Spike picked over the supplies she'd dumped over the top of the crate.  Picking up one of the items, he blew out a breath in exasperation.  "This is a kitchen knife."

Willow shrugged one shoulder.  "It's all I had. Ritual daggers are not a dime a dozen."

"Great, paper cups and bloody kitchen knives.  At least you got the candle right.  And what's with the first aid kit?"

"I'm about to open a vein for you, Spike.  I'd like to have some bandaids handy."

He grinned wolfishly at her, sending her nervousness up another notch.  "You mean you're not going to let me kiss it and make it better?"

The suggestive tone and leer stopped her anxious fluttering about the room.

The sheer shock on his new ally's face had the vampire snorting in laughter.  The blush his laughter caused had him laughing even harder.  If nothing else, the little witch was going to prove highly entertaining.

Willow fumed under Spike's laughter and narrowed her eyes.  Her movements stiff and tightly controlled, she dropped herself down onto the nest of blankets.  "Glad you think this is so amusing.  Can we just get on with it?"

Now it was Spike's turn to shrug.  Taking his seat opposite her, he waited while Willow carefully arranged the items on their table.

Her tough words aside, she was scared and trying desperately not to show it, even though she had every right to be nervous.  'But I'll be damned if I'll let that blasted vampire know.'  Now, if she could only stop her hand from trembling.  She tried to control it but no matter how hard she gripped the blade, fine tremors shook her.

"Look, pet, we don't exactly have all day here.  Are you backing out on me? Because if you are serious about this, I'm going to need a partner with some backbone."

As expected, sharp green eyes snapped up to meet his, anger simmering in their depths.  Spike grinned at her, adding to her anger.  He'd acquired himself a partner who was almost as much fun to annoy as his bastard sire.  His taunt did its job though as Willow pressed her lips tight together and squeezed her eyes shut as she drug the knife's edge across the palm of her hand.

The sight and smell of her own blood flowing hot over her fingers made Willow's stomach clench in revolt, and bright spots danced in front of her eyes only to fade away into a unrelenting gray.  Somewhere in the back of her mind a practical voice congratulated herself on taking the spot on the floor.  She could have hurt herself if she'd fallen out of the chair.

Suddenly a cool grip locked around her wrist, the hold painful enough to bring her back from her near faint. She opened her eyes to find Spike leaning over her with her back pressed against his legs.  The vampire, control over his human mask long gone, was holding her hand over the small paper cup, the blood dripping down from her palm in a steady flow.  She watched transfixed as the cheery light purple flowers and pink hearts turned dark and shadowed as the small cup filled up with her crimson blood.

"Bloody Hell, Wendy," Spike hissed above her.  "You were suppose to provide a token amount."

Willow wanted to laugh at him but she was too busy fighting her body's insistence that it wanted to throw up.  Concentrating on her breathing and keeping her lunch down, she ignored the vampire who still maintained a vice-like grip on her wrist.

Finally the gray receded from her vision, and she struggled to pull away from where she was braced against Spike's body.  Struggling, she soon learned, earned her nothing.

"Be still," was growled in her ear.  While the tone was menacing, Willow could detect no threat behind it so she stilled her frantic movements to get away from him.

Panting slightly, she finally took stock of her situation.  Spike had dropped to a kneeling position behind her and she was braced between his spread
thighs.  One of his arms was wrapped around her waist holding her still.  His other hand still maintained its punishing grip on her wrist.  A grip she now realized that had cut off the flow of blood to the slice across her wrist.

Feeling the girl stop her struggles, Spike slowly released his grip around her waist but kept his hold on her wrist.  This close to her, with the smell of
fresh blood hanging heavy in the air, the urge to drain her was strong, pulling at his senses.  He'd done nothing to hurt her so he could have fed from her through the cut she herself had made.

Demons tended to live in the present.  It was why fledglings had such short life spans.  Only maturity and age brought the necessary ability to see beyond their own immediate concerns and hungers.  The fight raging in Spike now was whether to give in to the hunger or to the logic that said that he needed this girl alive more than he needed her dead.  Finally, with a snarl he reached out his other hand and flipped open the box of first aid supplies she'd brought.

Muttering darkly, he snatched up a piece of cotton and wiped her hand clean of blood.  Willow watched in wide-eyed amazement as Spike swiftly bandaged her hand, the words he growled in counterpoint to his movements.  "Stupid chit" brought a bandage across the cut.  "Out of my undead mind" saw a length of gauze wrapped snugly across her palm, holding the bandage in place.  "Hate the Hellmouth.  You'd think I would have learned my lesson the last time, but nooo," he mumbled as he finally released her wrist to allow her blood to flow back into her numb hand.

Fingertips tingling with the return of her bloodflow and pain blossoming across her palm, Willow cradled her hand in her lap.  She jerked as callused fingers grabbed her chin and pulled her around to stare into angry, yellow eyes.

"A sire's job, pet, is teach a childe to survive.  The better the sire, the stronger the childe.  You might not be my childe yet, but you're about to get your first lesson."  The fingers holding her captive tightened a fraction more.  "Lesson number one . . . never let your anger goad you into overreacting. You were angry with me and the anger ruled your hand."

His eyes held hers for a minute longer until he was satisfied that she understood him.  With a disgusted sigh, he climbed to his feet and returned to his side of the table, thinking back to his own lesson at learning to not let his anger control his actions. Angelus had almost let him burn to death that day. His own impulsiveness still sometimes got the better of him, but he'd never again let anger dictate his actions.  Staring at the little witch kneeling on the other side of their makeshift table, he didn't think she'd ever forget either.

Willow watched Spike with something that approached amazement.  The demon that he really was still very much in evidence, she couldn't help the way she flinched every time his gaze raked across her.  But it wasn't the nightmare visage that kept her staring at him but the fact that he'd helped her. Spike, William the Bloody, killer of two Slayers, had *helped* her. 'Everybody duck 'cause here comes the lightning.'

But no lightning crashed, the end of the world didn't arrive and her last doubts that she was doing the right thing evaporated like the last clinging tendrils of her anger.  He'd helped her and he was right, no matter how much it galled her to admit it.  Her own anger at him had caused her to slice the knife deeper than she'd intended.  With an open wound, Spike could have killed her.  She'd basically offered him the fountain of her life with a tap open and bleeding, and he'd stuck to their bargain.

Spike, she was quickly discovering, wasn't anything like what she'd expected. She rubbed a thumb across the bandage on her hand; most definitely not what she expected.

Still staring, Willow watched Spike give himself a small shake and then turn his attention back to the interrupted ritual.

"Well, if you're done bleedin' like a stuck pig, we can get on with this."

Her temper, stung by his tone, rose up again.  He didn't have to sound like she'd done it just to make his life more difficult.  Opening her mouth to tell him a thing or two, she stopped, then snapped her mouth shut with an audible click of teeth, her own inner voice mocking her in Spike's accent, `temper, temper, luv.'

Taking a deep breath, she held it for a count of five and let it go.

Spike noted Willow's struggle and saw her release her held breath and chuckled.  "Bright girl.  You learn quick."

She glared up at him but held her tongue.  She had the impression that working with Spike was going to be one long verbal war.  She'd better pick her battles with care.

Spike flashed another amused glance at her silence. "Now, my temperamental childe-to-be, I'll show you how it is done."  He picked up the knife and spun it around in his fingers, the drops of her blood still clinging to the blade, sliding along its length with the movement.  Spike twirled the blade one last time and brought its tip to rest against the palm of his other hand.  A quick twist and a shallow slice appeared across his palm.

Willow noted with some fascination that his blood was slower to flow than hers, its substance thicker, the color a rich, dark burgundy instead of the bright red of her own.  Her stomach clenched in protest against the thought of drinking that.  'No. No. No.  Can't do it. Gross. Ick. I can't. Oh goddess, I'm going to be sick.  If I throw up, Spike's never going to respect me.'  Her last thought derailed her internal panic attack only to send her mind off in a completely different direction. 'Oh God, I'm trying to gain a demon's respect.'

Spike looked up from the cup now holding his blood to find the girl's eyes fixed on his palm, her pale skin even whiter as she stared in disgust. Somewhere, he was sure, someone was laughing at him and the irony of a vampire with a soon-to-be-childe that got sick at the sight of blood.  'Why me?'

He fought the urge to sigh.  Clearing his throat he caught her attention and began to talk as he lit the candle she'd brought.  "This is usually done with great ceremony, all bloody pomp and circumstance, with the rest of the family witnessing."  Spike made a rude noise in the back of his throat.  "Though that's more to let the fledglings know you're officially off the dinner menu.  It's an occasion to bring out the good china with crystal goblets and ritual daggers."  He paused to look over their table, holding two small Dixie cups and a kitchen knife.  "But that's all fluff and I never much liked ritual anyway."

Spike moved the cups on the table until the one with his blood sat in front of Willow.  "This gave us human followers, servants who could walk in daylight, offer their blood or their little lives in emergencies, or just for the hell of it.  It doesn't make you servile, it doesn't give you special abilities or bind your soul to me.  But it makes you family, it makes you part of my bloodline . . . and blood, Willow, is the thing that drives us.  And like any family, your loyalty is to your line, to the blood that flows within your veins, childe to sire, sire to childe."

Picking up the knife stained with both of their blood, he held it, blade sitting across the palm of his unmarked hand. "Blood called to blood.  Oath of the Sire . . . Training, Protection, Loyalty."

Willow swallowed hard when his words died away.  Her turn.  No running now, no backing out.

She reached out with her own unmarked hand and laid it across Spike's. Palm to palm, the bloodied knife blade rested cool between them.  One more calming breath and she spoke the words she'd read earlier.  "B-blood called to blood.  Oath of the Childe . . . Obedience, Defense, Loyalty."

Between their pressed palms, the blade grew warm until it seemed to burn into her skin, but she kept up the contact and reached for her cup when Spike reached for his.  Together, they toasted, and then as one they drank.

The taste was unlike anything she'd ever had before. Thick and heavy, Spike's blood left behind a cloying taste of earth and death, of old knowledge and of darkness tainted.  For the briefest of seconds she *knew* the demon called Spike as she knew herself, and through him, his sire Angelus, and his sire Darla and through Darla, she touched the Master -- blood to blood.  Just as quickly, the knowledge was gone and Willow was just herself again.

Spike threw back the small paper cup as if the blood within was a shot of tequila.  He wasn't expecting it to do anything to him, the amount too small to even register to his still blood-deprived system.  He was quite surprised to find himself wrong.  Her taste was youth and courage, curiosity and knowledge sought, overlaid with the magic that sizzled in her blood.  It flowed through him, burning along his nerves like the touch of sunlight only to disappear as if it never was, leaving him untouched and unburned.

Heart racing as if she'd been running, Willow released the crumbled paper cup to complete the ritual. Reaching up with her injured hand to grasp the handle of the knife, the blade still firmly held between their pressed palms.  Spike's hand wrapped around hers a second later, his grip firm.  Pain shot along her arm as the slice across her palm was pressed painfully into the handle, but she bit her lip and made no sound of protest.  Then with a quick twist of his wrist, they broke the knife between them.

As the blade snapped, she sucked in a ragged breath as the pressure exerted pressed the blade into her flesh, cutting new slices into her hand.  But these were shallow and left only thin cuts etched into her palm.

Spike released her suddenly, the knife pieces falling between them, the clang of metal hitting concrete loud in the silence.

"Welcome to the family, luv.  How 'bout a big kiss for daddy?"
 

~Part 5~

Willow blinked.

It was a test.  She was sure of it, but even as she reassured herself that he was only kidding and trying to goad her into a hasty reaction, she had to force herself not to say something stupid.  As it was, all she could do was stare at him for a moment and hope that her mouth wasn't hanging open.  She even found herself running through in her mind the texts that she'd read on the ritual, wondering if she'd missed some part of the ceremony, but she knew she hadn't. It was a test...an unfair teasing test, no less!  Not wanting to give him anything else to lecture her about
tonight, she curbed her embarrassment and slight irritation at his suggestion.  Much to Spike's chagrin, Willow pretended as if she didn't hear the
question and asked one of her own.  "So, what's first, um..."  She looked truly perplexed for a moment.  "Do I still call you Spike?  I don't have to call you Sire or anything, do I?"

Both pleased that she learned so quickly and disappointed that he didn't get to see her become all red-faced and flustered, Spike tried again.  "Master will be fine for now, Wendy.  I'll pop out to the local 'Bondage 'R Us' shop tomorrow and pick you up a leather collar," the vampire deadpanned.

Her eyes widened until that little bell went off in her head once more.  'He's just trying to bate you, Willow...ignore him,' she reminded herself.
"Actually, grammatically it should be 'Bondage is Us'. Or would it be 'Bondage are We'?" she wondered aloud. Noting that the vampire was rolling his eyes, Willow hastily added, "Which I'm  guessing really doesn't matter...."

There was a lull in the conversation as they each looked at the remains of the ritual--the broken kitchen knife, the crushed paper cups, and the
dripping candle.  "Well, *Spike*, is that it?" she asked, breaking the silence

"What do you bloody mean, 'is that it'?" he retorted indignantly, extinguishing the candle's flame between two long, pale fingers.  "What were you expecting? supernatural powers?  an insatiable thirst for the blood of the innocent?  a sudden desire to dress in all black?"

"No, I just thought I'd feel different, I guess." Aside from that brief moment when it felt as if Spike were open to her, and through him Angel, and so on, she felt like the same old Willow.

Spike leaned back in his chair, his foot beginning to tap in impatience.  "I told you.  It was just a ritual, an oath of loyalty, nothing more."

"I know.  I guess I just thought...oh, never mind," Willow shrugged, then set about picking up the pieces of the kitchen knife and tidying up the ceremonial crate.

As Spike watched her straightening the room, he was overcome with exhaustion.  He hadn't quite been up to full speed as it was, which was not surprising considering what he'd been through, but the ritual had taken more out of him than he'd expected.  Watching the girl flit about the room with all the energy of a firefly on speed, it made him feel every one of his many years.  Finally the redhead sat back down and looked at him expectantly, which irritated him to no end.  "What are you staring at?" he snapped, his supply of patience for the human running out.

"I'm waiting for you to tell me what happened with the GI Joe-types," she replied, wincing slightly at the tone of his voice.  "That was the point of this whole thing, wasn't it?  You should trust me now.  I did what you asked.  I'm part of your family, so..."

"Our little 'sharing' session will have to wait until tomorrow.  I'm bloody tired, and to put it bluntly, being around you isn't a piece of cake right now,
pet."

"Oh," Willow said, her head nodding in understanding. "The whole blood and not being able to bite thing, right?"

"There's that, but frankly, you're rather annoying at times," he said coolly.  He hoped that his obvious change in mood would be enough to get her to leave of her own accord, knowing that no one in their right mind would want to be around a disgruntled vampire.

Willow's eyes fell to her hands as his words hit a little too close to home, but she reminded herself that it was just another test and that vampires
weren't very learned in the ways of friendly conversation.  She sat up straight and stuck her chin out, determined to win him over.  "Now, that's no way to speak to your favorite daughter, is it?" she teased, and then looked at her watch.  It was only 2 in the morning.  "Besides, it's still early yet,
Spike...well, for you anyway.  And we have a lot to talk about...what happened to you, how they're tracking you, what our next steps are--" she rattled off excitedly.

"Look, Wendy," Spike interrupted.  "While I'm thrilled that you're such an eager little childe, daddy's tired.  The last couple of days have been a right
prick, and we undead types need our sleep , you know."

"But--"

He leaned forward, bringing his face closer to hers. "So why don't you go back to your room, put on your floor-length flannel nightie, and climb into your nice, comfy bed, and have happy dreams about puppies and candy and whatever else you sweet and innocent types dream about.  You can come back in the morning and bring me some breakfast.  I'm almost all out," he informed his childe.  Spike opened the cooler and took out the last pack of blood, weighing it between his hands.  He'd wait until she left before he ate.  It was bad enough having to feed out of a plastic bag, but damned if he would have her staring at him while he ate.

But Willow paid him no mind.  She was too full of energy, whether it be a side-effect from the ritual, or perhaps it was the fact that she was involved in something illicit, secretive, naughty even.  It was almost like the rush she felt when she and Xander were 'fluking' all those months ago.  As a result, she shrugged off everything he'd just told her, and started sharing her ideas anyway.  "First I thought you'd tell me everything you remember, and we could compare notes and see if we missed anything.  Then I'll do some research--a little hacking, if necessary--to see what kind of organization might be involved in demonology, and for what reason, then..."

Spike groaned, running his hand down his face in exasperation.  He was hungry, he was tired, and she was droning on and on. "Wendy... Willow... what would it take to get you to shut your gob?"

Still, Willow didn't stop, now hastily scribbling notes in the margin of one of the reference books she'd brought with her, continuing to make plans under her breath.

"Bloody hell..." he growled in irritation, then he thought of the one thing that might shut her up. Spike stood up and took of his duster, folded it
neatly and placed it in the corner.  Next he slowly unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off, the whole time watching Willow and waiting for her to notice, but she just kept on babbling her plans to her book.  After neatly adding it to the pile, he tugged his T-shirt out of the waistband of his jeans, grabbed it by the hem and pulled it off over his head in one swift motion.

Willow went on, oblivious to the strip tease happening right before her.  "...then we should look into all the military supplies stores in the area.  Maybe we could track down whomever has bought a large quantities of 'war-wear' recently."  Finally taking a breather, Willow looked up to see a half-naked blond vampire in front of her, his hands moving to unbutton his jeans.  Her face turned bright scarlet as her eyes dropped back down to her book.

"Um, Spike...you...you're...taking your clothes off, j-just in case you weren't aware of it," she sputtered.

Too weary to be amused by her embarrassment, Spike undid the button at the top of his jeans.  "I told you I was ready for bed, so since you're still here, then..." he grinned lasciviously, kneeling down to pat the space next to him on his bed made of blankets. "And here I thought you wouldn't be interested in *that* side of the sire-childe relationship...at least, not yet, anyway."

Willow jumped to her feet and hastily began gathering her things, but in her flustered state, she dropped as much as she picked up.  Finally giving up, she just grabbed the book with the notes in it and headed for the door.  Throwing it open so hard that it bounced off the opposite wall and almost hit her, Willow paused halfway through and turned.  Trying to keep her eyes on the vampire's face instead of his nakedness, she mumbled hurriedly, "Night, Spike.  I'll see you tomorrow."

With a bold grin, Spike retorted, "If you don't get out of here in the next two seconds, you'll see *all* of me...*tonight*!"

When Willow heard the distinctive sound of a zipper being undone, she scurried through the door, closing it behind her.  She leaned back against it for a moment to catch her breath, and that was when it finally hit her what she had done.  Willow had sworn herself to a vampire...a demon.  She'd promised her loyalty and her defense.  'Defense against what?'  At the time, she'd only thought of the soldiers that had tried to take them both, a mutual enemy, but she realized know that they weren't the only ones that would want Spike eliminated...so would other vampires and demons... probably even Angel wanted him dead...and of course there was the Slayer...

"Oh no...Buffy!" she wailed softly, squeezing her eyes shut like she could will her worries away.  "I'm supposed to protect him against vampires, demons and Buffy?"

Willow began to slump against the door and slid half-way down before she remembered that the cause of her current distress was lurking just on the other side of it.  So Willow pushed herself back to standing and started for her room.  She didn't hurry though, each step was taken in time with her thought process, sometimes skittering along, and other times coming to a dead stop as some new possible repercussions of her actions came to her.

If anyone had been in the halls, they may have heard the redhead mumbling to herself as she made her pilgrimage from the bowels of the basement to her room up above.  "What am I going to tell Buffy....I have to tell her the truth...she deserves the truth...but she won't understand...heck, I don't understand...but Spike can't hurt anyone now, so he's not the enemy...he needed help...but she's the Slayer...my friend...but I'm sworn to him now...I took a blood oath...but..."

By the time she reached her door, she had yet to come to any firm conclusions, so she muttered a quick prayer that Buffy would be a sleep, enabling Willow to put off the inevitable for the time being.

Willow quickly took off her shoes before unlocking and opening the door to their room.  She slid in to the darkened room and closed the door behind her as quietly as possible.  She tiptoed over to her bed, hiding the proof of her guilt, the book with the notes, underneath.  Glancing at Buffy, she was relieved to find her fast asleep, so she quickly changed into her jammies and slipped into bed.

Sleep was a long time coming to Willow as her already overactive imagination shifted into overdrive, but after a couple of hours, she'd almost convinced herself that it wouldn't be that bad...at least not if Buffy didn't find out.  Willow didn't expect the Slayer to understand her need to help Spike, at least not right away, but she thought that if they were able to solve the mystery of what had happened to him, at the same time proving that Spike could be trusted, no dusting would be involved.

At least, that is what she told herself, only half believing it, but she had no choice.  For now, she was going to have to keep this a secret from Buffy until she could prove Spike's value to the group.  Her decision made, Willow finally drifted off to sleep, just as the sun's rays began to peek over the horizon.

****

Spike tossed and turned for hours, unable to get comfortable in the make-shift bed that consisted only of a pile of blankets on the hard floor and managing to get only a few hours of sleep at best.  But it wasn't only the stark sleeping arrangements that kept him from his badly needed rest.  He couldn't help questioning what he had done only a few hours earlier.  He'd taken it so lightly at the time, perhaps because he doubted that she would go through with it, or perhaps simply out of a frustrated need to have someone loyal to him.  In his present state, he could hardly expect any respect from the local vampire population.  If word of his 'little problem' were to get out, he would be the butt of every demon's joke from here to hell.  Not that he would have to worry about that for long, because his 'unlife' would likely come to an abrupt end at the hands of some power-hungry young pup.

Giving up on trying to get any more sleep, Spike sat up to lean back against the cement wall.  "Who are you kidding, mate?" he said into his hands.   "You live in the Slayer's bloody basement, just made her best friend a childe, a living one, no less, and you couldn't bite into kitten if it were handed to you on a silver platter!"

He never felt so worthless in his whole unlife, or even his life, for that matter.  Even when he enlisted the Slayer's helping in defeating Angelus just to get Drusilla back, at least he still had his dignity.  He remembered with a sense of satisfaction the rush he'd experienced as he repeatedly beat Angelus over the head that night.  Even when he'd come back for the spell, which Spike knew by now was a pretty pitiful way to get back a woman, he'd at least been able to defeat his 'ex-employees' that had hoped to kill him in the witchcraft shop.  But now, he had nothing...not his followers, not his talent for torture, and not Drusilla.  Hell, for that matter, he didn't even have Harmony.  'If Harm knew what I've become, she'd probably stake me with the heel of one of her designer shoes and go find herself some bloody frog in Paris,' he lamented half-heartedly.  He
wouldn't exactly be broken hearted if Harm were to find another, he'd just miss her...'company'.

"Bloody hell, I'm pathetic!" he shouted at the boiler. "I have nothing...just an oath of fealty from some scatter-brained, broken-hearted girl who has delusions of being a witch.  I should do us all a bloody favor and walk into the sun right now..."

A quiet tapping on the door interrupted his morose thoughts.  He ignored it.

The tapping stopped for a bit before growing slightly more urgent.  "Go the bloody hell away or I will rip you apart from..." he trailed off, his depression only growing as he remembered about the only thing he could rip apart was the seal on a plastic bag of donated blood.

The knocking stopped, but then he was able to make out a soft voice on the other side.

"Spike...it's me...Wi-Wendy.  I brought you some breakfast."

His hunger overruling his desire to wallow in self-pity, Spike got up and opened the door.  He didn't even look at Willow before grabbing the bag out
of her hands and plopping back down in his nest of blankets. "At least I know you're good for something," he growled, reaching into the paper bag she'd brought.

Willow didn't enter. For one thing, he was dressed only in boxers, and for the second thing, she sensed that the vampire's mood wasn't particularly good at the moment, and she was too tired to try and cheer him up.  'Must have woken up on the wrong side of he...er, blankets...' she thought, before making a mental note to try and find a cot or an air mattress or something for the vampire.

Her self-reminder was cut short by a snarl from within the room.

"What the bloody hell is this?" the blond vampire fumed before violently throwing the bag she'd brought him.

Willow jumped back but not before her clothes were spattered with the same sticky red substance that was now dribbling down the wall beside her.  "It...was breakfast," she said meekly.  "You asked me to bring it, remember?"

Spike jumped to his feet and stormed over to his now-trembling childe.  "That was not breakfast...a little redhead is breakfast," he said menacingly.  "A bag of O positive will do in a pinch.  But noooo...what did you bring me?" he asked sardonically.

She stepped back but kept her eyes focuses firmly on his.  "It *was* a cup of coffee and two raspberry jam-filled donuts...it was all I could get at this time of the morning, and I know you can eat real food because I've seen Angel do it before, so I thought--"

"You thought that you could come down here, hand a starving demon a bag of puff pastries, mention his hated-sire's name, and get a way with it?" Spike demanded, stalking closer to her.

Willow's mouth opened, ready to berate the blonde demon for his 'poopy attitude', but she thought better of it.  She was too worn-out for one of his special lessons today.  "I'll go to the butcher after class this afternoon.  That's the best I could do for now. I'm sorry, Spike."

Spike lowered his head to his chest in a display of barely controlled exacerbation.  "Go.  Get.  The. Blood.  Now!" he ordered through clenched teeth. "Then get back here so we can get to work on a plan!"

"Um...sorry, Spike," she said hesitantly, "but I have class.  In fact, I have an exam right after lunch which I hardly studied for at all considering I spent most of the night with you swapping body fluids...er, I mean, blood...swapping blood," she corrected erself, pleased that she didn't blush this time.

His head shot up, his eyes piercing her to the spot. "Have you forgotten your little oath already, witch? I'm your sire, and I gave you a bloody order.  Now, go--"

"Oh, no...no you don't, Spike," she interrupted, no longer able to contain her anger at Spike's behavior towards her.  "I wanted to do this last night,
remember?  I was trying to come up with a plan but all you wanted to do was sleep...or strip!  I'm sorry, but I have other obligations to keep too, you know...like to myself to get a good education.  I cannot be at your beck and call, day and night!  She turned and headed down the hall before Spike could say a word. "I'll be back in a few hours with some fresh blood," she called over her shoulder, before disappearing up the stairs.

In response, albeit a little too late, Spike slammed the door to his room shut with all of his vampiric strength, then stood there, staring at it as he
clenched his fists tightly.  After several minutes, he grabbed the donut that was still stuck to the wall and bit into it savagely.

***

Hours later, Spike was waiting for her knock when it came.  "Come in, " he said calmly.

Willow opened the door slowly and peered around it. "Hi, Spike," she greeted him cheerfully.  "I have fresh blood and the rest of the afternoon free!"

The now fully-clothed Spike signaled for her to come in as he got to his feet.

Relieved that he appeared to be in a better frame of mind, she went in and plopped her things on the crate. "Feeling better?" she asked sincerely.

For an answer, Spike walked slowly to the door, locked it, and then leaned against it, folding his arms across his chest.

Unable to read the odd look on his face, Willow nervously began rooting around in her packpack. "Look!" she said, pulling out a long object.

"I 'borrowed' a small metal detector from the geology lab, so we should be able to narrow down the location of any implant...if there is one...and if it's metal..." she trailed off, her feelings of unease increasing due to the way he was staring at her.

Spike smirked.  "We'll get to that in a bit, luv, but first we have some more important matters to discuss."

Willow set the instrument down and gave her full attention to her sire.  "Okay, what do we need to talk about, Spike?"  The grin that then appeared on the vampire's face sent shudders down her spine.  She'd seen that evil smile before...just the other night...right before he'd pounced on her and pinned her to her own bed...right before he tried to kill her.

Willow's growing look of fear made Spike grin wider as he approached her.  "Why, your punishment for your disobedience, of course."
 

~Part 6~

"Punishment?" she squeaked in alarm.

The fear in his wayward childe's wide eyes went far to soothe the anger that still bubbled within him.  The rapid pulse in her throat and the loud hammering of her heart made him feel back in control.  So with his best, as Dru liked to call it, `eat the small children grin,' he advanced on Willow until he was well into her personal space.

"Yes, punishment," he confirmed when he stood just a few inches from her.

Abruptly he spun on his heel to stalk to the other side of the room. Whirling back around he was gratified at the small jerk of alarm she gave at his
sudden movement.  Pointing to the chair, he told her to sit.  When she was seated, he asked in a conversational tone that made her instantly wary, "Do you know the difference between a childe and a minion?"

Willow, her mind still stuck on the word punishment and what exactly that meant to a vampire, could only shake her head.  She was slightly confused at Spike's seemingly switch in topics.

"A minion is cannon fodder," Spike began.  "They are created and then left to their own devices to either live or die by their own wits.  Most die, too stupid to get out of the sunlight or to avoid the Slayer. True children or childer, on the other hand, are different.  A childe is selected to be turned, not just as a convenient meal.  A childe is taught and molded and groomed to carry on the bloodline.  A childe represents an investment of time and
commitment.  And while it is true that a childe is given more leeway to speak their own minds, it is well within a sire's right to put a stake through a
childe's heart, favored status or not.  Vampires take very seriously the old adage of `I brought you into this world, I can take you out of it.'"

Willow stared at Spike. `My sire' a part of her whispered and for the first time she really looked at Spike.  Not as a vampire or the enemy or even as a convenient way to get the information she needed to help Buffy.  This time when she looked at him, she saw him.  She saw the controlled anger mixed with a weariness that still slowed his steps.  She saw the seriousness in which he was taking this.  Then she saw the disappointment. He was disappointed in her.

Suddenly Willow felt six years old again, standing in front of her father, her mother's favorite vase lying in broken shards around her, a rubber ball clutched tight in her hands.  Spike and her father shared the same expression and somehow that didn't seem odd to her.  She found herself saying the same words now that she had then.  "I'm sorry."

Her soft words brought him up short. She'd apologized. He pinned her with a sharp glance.  Hell, the girl looked to be almost in tears.  Maybe she
was soft in the head.  And a bloody good mess this made of the tirade he'd worked on in this head.  She wasn't supposed to apologize!  Now, what was he supposed to do?

Off balance now, Spike scrambled to hold on to his anger.  "That doesn't change the fact that you will be punished."  He tried to make the words sound as menacing as possible, but wasn't sure he was succeeding.  Of course, the fact that they both knew he couldn't harm a hair on her head didn't make the situation any better.

"I know," Willow replied, total dejection in the slump of her shoulders. "I'm ready. Whatever you decide."

Folding his arms across his chest he studied his charge.  She looked liked a damned whipped puppy, all hangdog expression and soulful eyes.  It was enough to make him want to hurl.  This was nothing like he remembered his own `sessions' of punishment with Angelus going.  She wasn't trying to escape.  She wasn't trying to lie her way around his pronouncement. She wasn't even begging for mercy, although he did admire that, in a way.  He'd always hated when the minions begged.  Stupid twits. Like he was going to show them mercy.

Even his scrutiny didn't seem to bother her.  She just sat there waiting on him to level her sentence.  Were all humans this exasperating or just his? He was seriously beginning to wonder why none of his plans ever seemed to go right when they concerned this girl. A pattern he was beginning to suspect went all the back to his first run in with the Slayer and her friends back when he'd attacked the school.

He tried one more time to gain command of a situation that seemed to be rapidly spinning out of his control. Time to put her as off-balance as he felt.   "I can't kill you, even though that would be my right.  I could claim other rights as your sire," he added softly, watching in satisfaction as Willow's eyes widened in alarm as she took his meaning, "but I think you'd fight that and I can't bloody well hurt you.  And since I can't hurt you, I'd have to make it good."  He was fairly sure she quit breathing as he added softly, "And I could make it very, very good for you."  Then switching back to his normal tones, she said, "But then this is suppose to be punishment, not pleasure."

The blush that stained her cheeks while she looked everywhere in the room but at him, somewhat mollified his disgruntlement with the way things had started to turn.

"Willow."  A single word and her eyes snapped back to him from where they had been contemplating the cooler storing his blood with fierce determination.

"Sire?"  The word slipping out unnoticed.

"For willful disobedience, you will, by whatever means necessary, set up a steady supply of blood for me."

Seeing her glance over to the large Styrofoam cup she'd come in with, he shook his head. "Not animal blood."

"How?" she asked, although she already knew.  There was only one place that could provide a steady supply of human blood, Willy's.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This was ridiculous.  She hung her head and leaned against the wall, scuffing her toe in the dirt that had gathered along the edges of the alleyway.
Alleyway!!  She, Willow Anne Rosenburg, was standing in a dirty alleyway at dusk.  If she didn't feel so stupid she would have laughed at her situation.  She wondered, not for the first time, exactly how she'd gotten herself into this situation.  It had seemed so simple in the beginning, but one tiny harmless step away from the straight and narrow path had led to other seemingly tiny harmless steps and the next thing she knew . . . BAM! she was in an alleyway outside of Willy's gathering her courage to go inside and secure Spike a steady diet of blood.

Scrubbing half-heartedly at her eyes, she sighed.  The road to hell was indeed paved with good intentions. And at the rate she was going, she ought to be able to see the Gates of Damned any minute now.

`Buck up, Rosenburg.  Time to get our butt in there and act like you're tough. You are going to kick ass and take names and get your blood.'  The words were strong and confident. Too bad she didn't believe them.

Taking one last calming breath, she wiped her sweating palms down her jeans and gave up the solid security of the wall at her back.  `Show time.'

The tough words, brave intentions and solid determination all fled the moment she stepped into the shadowed interior of Willy's and saw a half dozen surly faces swing in her direction.  She froze.

A man standing behind the bar addressed her.  "Kid, here's my good deed for the year . . . get lost."

His tone riled the embers of her temper and pushed the fear down.  Okay, fine.  So she didn't exactly look like she fit in here but he didn't have to be rude about it.  Straightening from her formerly slumped position, she graced the greasy little man with her best frosty smile and glare, "Save your good deed," she shot back.  She flicked her eyes over the other inhabitants of the bar.  "You might need it."

Willow felt a flush of pleasure as she saw the look of surprise cross the face of the man who could only be Willy.  `Witch 1, Willy, 0.  Time to go to round two.'

That small victory gave her the courage to slide onto one of the cleaner looking barstools.  Folding her hands together, she rested them primly on the bartop, the surface surprising smooth and spotless beneath her fingers.

Deciding that the frontal assault was best, she wasted no time on preliminaries. "I need to set up a delivery."

"Look kid, we ain't a pizza joint.  We don't do deliveries."

Willow ignored him and continued on as if he hadn't spoken.  "I'll need eight pints of blood, fresh mind you, delivered every other day to Hargrove Hall dormitory. In the morning, daylight hours please, between six and seven am."

Giving her a wary once over, he asked, "Why do you want blood?"

Summoning up her best imitation Cordelia expression, she tried to look intimidating.  "That is none of your business."

Willy, however, had been intimidated by the best and wasn't impressed. Picking up a glass, he started to wipe it down, half turning his back on her.  "Go on, kid, beat it.  I think I hear your momma calling."

Before she could come up with a suitable reply, a rumbling voice cut across the bar.  "Now, Willy, is that anyway to treat a lady?  I'll be more than
happy to discuss blood with you, darlin'."

Willow slowly swiveled her stool to confront the largest (and ugliest, a portion of her mind bent on self-destruction added) vampire she'd ever seen.
Flight or fight instincts kicked in and Willow wisely chose flight. Sliding off the barstool, she took a stumbling step backwards only to come to a
bone-jarring stop as one meaty hand closed around her forearm.

Fangs exposed in a mocking grin, the vampire leered down at her.  "Where ya going, girlie?"

Panic.  Panic was good and Willow was well into what was shaping up to be one hell of a panic attack when she spotted movement behind the walking undead behemoth that held her.  Spike.

Amazingly enough, the sight of Spike getting up on the other side of the room calmed her down.  The look of rage glittering in his eyes warmed her in some inexplicable way.  Spike, her sire, was pissed that someone had dared to lay a hand on her.  And knowing Spike was there gave her courage.

Pulling back from the vampire, she spotted a long oversized cocktail toothpick laying on the bar, an olive still skewered on one end.

With a frown of concentration and a flick of her free wrist, she sent the slender piece of wood straight though the dirty t-shirt he wore and into the
vampire's heart, the olive bouncing off his chest as the pick sank into his flesh.  For a moment, she didn't think it worked and then without a sound,
he was simply a glittering cloud of dust between her and Spike.  Blue eyes held green for a long moment, before Spike inclined his head in a gesture of recognition and sat back down at his table.  Willow wisely decided that now was not the time to examine the feeling of pride she felt at that simple acknowledgment.  She still had a punishment to fulfill.

Turning away from Spike, Willow did her best to look unfazed as she listened to the mutterings from the bar's other patrons.  Whispers of "witch" and "did you see, she just waved her hand and Eddie dusted" came all around her.  But the comment that really almost caused her to lose it was "do you think she's here to fight the Slayer?"  Looking around, she finally figured out that in the gloom of the bar, the other patrons simply hadn't seen the toothpick.  To them, it had looked as if Willow had simply waved her hand and magically dusted the vampire that had held her.

Willow settled herself back on the barstool facing Willy, feeling much calmer about everything.  But then dusting a vampire would do that for you, she guessed. She steadfastly ignored the feeling of security that overcame her whenever she thought about Spike sitting at a shadowed table in the corner.   She hadn't even known he was there.  She'd thought he'd sent her to Willy's alone.  It wasn't until she'd seen him that she'd really, truly believed that he meant his side of their oath.  The thought made her want to laugh out loud in amazement, but not right now.  Now she had a
job to do.  It was time to bargain.

"Willy," she began with a nod to the bartender.

"Witch," he replied, his voice noncommittal but with just the slightest note of wary respect.

Oh yeah, she thought, it's good to be the witch . . even if no one ever used your name.

"I need eight pints of blood, delivered every other day to the basement of Hargrove Hall."

"Don't make deliveries to the University.  That's Slayer territory."

Willow was about to protest that at 7 am, Buffy would still be sound asleep, but she caught herself in time. There was no way she could explain how she knew the Slayer's sleeping habits, or the fact that because of Buffy's nightly patrols, she'd scheduled late morning and afternoon classes so she could make up lost sleep time.

Willy must have caught her expression of annoyance though.  "Tell you what, for a little extra, for the trouble, you know, I'd be willing to make a drop close to campus.  There's a convenience store on 6th and Vine, about 3 blocks from campus.  Hundred dollars a week and the blood's yours."

"A hundred?!"  Willow was stunned.  "That's robbery!"

Willy pushed the rag he was holding across the surface of the bar.  "Take it or leave, kid."

Willow smiled thinly at him.  So he wanted to play rough.  She was prepared to do that.  She might not be able to squeeze his little neck until he gave her what she wanted, but she wasn't completely helpless.

"I think I'll leave it.  Here's the deal, Willy, you have something I need.  Now, I understand that the way these things normally go, is at this point I would threaten to end your life if you don't give me what I want.  But you're a businessman, you deserve to get something out of this as well and violence is just so" Willow smiled brightly at the puzzled barkeep, "overrated."

Willy was frowning in confusion.  "I don't know what you're playing at, but no money, no deal."

Willow just continued to smile brightly at him as she reached into the pocket of her jacket to pull out a sheath of papers she'd collected earlier in the day as she'd waited on nightfall.  She tossed them casually at Willy.

"You're about to be audited, Willy . . something about nine years of back taxes."  Glancing around the bar, Willow couldn't help but add, "You know, considering your clientele, I would have thought you'd know enough to stay away from the real bloodsuckers."

Willy never took his eyes off the printed documents. "These are government files.  How did you get them? What do you want?"

"Computers are our friends, Willy.  And all I want is eight pints of blood every other day.  You provide that and I'll do a little computer magic and remove you from the 'To Be Audited' list."

Willy, ever protective of his own skin, didn't hestitate.  Looking up, he stuck out his hand. "Deal."

Willow took his hand and shook it.  "Deal," she replied.   Oh yeah, that road to Hell was getting easier all the time.
 

~Part 7~

When Willow left the bar, she was skipping.  She'd done it.  She'd blackmailed the Hellmouth's bartender into providing her with the blood that Spike had demanded.  Not only that, but she'd staked an obnoxious vampire with a toothpick to boot.  All in all, Willow thought it was a great start to the evening, in a twisted kind of way.

Then she made herself slow down, both mentally and physically.  She'd been lucky with the vampire at Willy's.  What if there hadn't been a toothpick handy, or even one of those colorful little umbrellas?  Sure, Spike had been there, much to her surprise.  And even more to her surprise, he hadn't seemed too annoyed with her when he'd stood up to intervene.  It was the other vampire, the ugly one that had dared to touch her, that the blond vampire's ire had been aimed at.  After all, Spike had made an oath to protect her, his childe, but Willow had been hoping that she'd make it at least a week before he had to come to her rescue.

'But he didn't have to rescue me!' Willow reminded herself with quite a smug inner voice.  'I unpickled myself all on my own.'  She wished she could tell Buffy and the rest of the gang about the confrontation in the bar and her skill with a toothpick, but that would lead to too many questions.  Questions she wasn't exactly sure how to answer yet.

Willow stopped walking.  There it was again.  That little twinge of guilt that would flare up whenever she thought of her friend, The Slayer.  The redhead didn't like keeping secrets, but she told herself that sometimes it had to be done.  After all, it was for a good cause.  They needed information on the soldier types that had attacked her and Spike the other night, and with Spike's help, she was sure she could figure out just what was going on.  So she squashed the feeling of guilt and concentrated on that other little feeling that was softly glowing in the back of her mind.  Something she hadn't felt since Oz had left.  Pride.

Before Willow knew it, she was skipping again and with what she was sure was a goofy grin on her face.  Not only was she proud of herself, but she had an inkling that perhaps Spike was proud of her too.  Maybe he hadn't said it aloud, but the witch was almost positive that she'd seen it in his face and in the slight dip of his head when the dust of her enemy had cleared from between them.  The redhead allowed herself to bathe in her happier feelings for just a moment before putting them away.  She'd drag them out later, when she had more time to think about the odd relationship she and Spike were creating.  There was no time for that now.  For as much fun as it was making deals with various devils, it was time to get back to work.  After all, the whole point was to get information on the soldiers that had held Spike captive and had tried to capture her as well.  First things first, she'd have to make sure they couldn't get their hands on her sire again.

Willow stopped in her tracks, again, as her own inner words caught her off guard.  Her sire.  She had a sire...not a puppy or a hamster, but a sire.  Of course she still had Amy the rat, but she figured that didn't really count.  And sure...maybe she had often wanted a pet or a little brother or a sister when she was younger--and sometimes even parents who were home more than they were away--but one thing she'd never wanted was a sire.

Willow found herself standing a little taller, swelling with that strange sense of pride.  Then, as she replayed the events in the bar, her pride rapidly converted into anger.  What was he doing out?  She was positive that the vampire could still easily be found by the big, gun-toting, fatigue-wearing bad guys.  Was he trying to get himself captured or was his ego just so huge that he thought himself invincible?  'Or maybe he was trying to protect me...or laugh at me when I messed it all up,' she found herself thinking.  Willow pushed that final thought away.  The last thing Spike would want is for her to make a total fool out of herself, because it would reflect badly on him.  He was there purely for moral support and protection if necessary.  And maybe a drink or two.

Willow was in motion again, but this time she wasn't skipping with glee and excess energy.  This time there was some anger in her stomping steps.  Obviously Spike wasn't going to be as careful as he should, so she needed to quickly come up with some way of protecting her sire before his reckless nature got him in more trouble.  Since it was painfully obvious to the red-headed witch that she could do little about his cranial implant without a degree in neurosurgery, she would instead have to focus on keeping the vampire safe while trying to gain more information.

As she hurried back to her dorm room, she thought back to their earlier discoveries.  Before she had left to fulfill her punishment at Willy's, she and Spike had finally gotten around to using the small metal detector that she'd borrowed from the university geology department and they'd discovered a small object located somewhere deep in his head.  It was obvious to both of them by that time that Spike didn't have any sort of tracer lodged in his body.  Otherwise, the soldiers would have already tracked him down and dragged him out of his new basement home.  Based on several factors--the location of the detected object, Spike's altered behavior and accompanying pain, and the rumors that he'd heard while he was imprisoned that experiments were being conducted on the inmates by the soldiers and the white coats--sire and childe had come to the conclusion that some sort of implant in the vampire's brain was the cause of his problems.  An experiment in demon behavior modification, apparently.  Even though they now had some idea what was causing Spike's tamed behavior, there was little either of them could do about it.

'Maybe I can't do anything about the implant,' Willow told herself as she glided into her empty dorm room, 'but I can make sure they don't find him again!'

Remembering that the GI-types had managed to locate Spike when he was in her dorm room that first night, Willow surmised that they'd probably detected him via his body heat, or lack there of.  It was the room that Willow had chosen to drag the weakened vampire to that had probably kept him hidden so far.  Besides being below ground, it contained the dorm's furnace/boiler and hot water heaters.  She remembered that vampires' body temperatures tend to adapt to the temperature of their surroundings.  Just being in the overly warm room had enabled Spike to mask his standard lower-than-normal body temperature.  Since Spike didn't appear to be the type of vampire to stay put, no matter what the danger, she was going to have to come up with a more portable means of increasing his body temperature.

After thumbing through a few spell books she had in her room, Willow found a suitable spell.  All she needed was some sort of metal object that would keep in contact with Spike's skin--a piece of jewelry would do, but it would have to be fairly large.  She couldn't think of anything in her current jewelry wardrobe that would do, or that she could con Spike into wearing, but the witch hadn't given up yet.

Willow opened her closet door and took a cardboard moving box down from the top shelf.  Opening the carton that held rarely used items from home that she hadn't had the heart to leave behind, Willow found what she was looking for.  With a sigh, Willow sat down in the middle of her bed, legs crossed, clutching her find--a pink jewelry box.  It had been a gift from her parents for her 10th birthday and was the kind of jewelry box that had a tiny ballerina inside that would pop up and twirl to the tinkling strains of 'The Music Box Dancer' whenever you lifted the lid.  She'd hated the gift when she'd received it all those years ago because it'd only proved how little her parents knew about her.  Maybe every other little girl dreamed of being a ballerina, but she never had.  Not that she'd had dreams of being a witch and begged for Wicca lessons either, but Willow never, ever, had the desire to put on a Pepto-Bismal-pink tutu or play a sugarplum fairy.  Unfortunately, her parents had had different dreams, and so she'd taken ballet lessons for a year.  They'd never seen her dance because of an out-of-town conference that conflicted with their daughter's first and final performance.  Luckily, Willow had later persuaded them to give her piano lessons instead.  They never made one of those recitals either.

As much as Willow hated that ballerina--the way her tiny arms were held in a perfect oval above her head, one knee bent, toes pointed, forming an exact triangle with her legs-- she'd always felt sorry for her.  Willow had often wondered if the dancer wished it were a Barbie or a Weeble instead.  And to be stuck in that dark little box all day, just waiting for someone to raise the top so she could spring into action, seemed too cruel to Willow when she was younger.  That's why she'd always left the top open.  Sometimes she'd set one of her Star Wars action figures next to the ballerina to keep her company.  Some days she'd poise her Princess Leia figurine there, deciding the two toy women would probably discuss how to set their hair into 'buns of steel' that wouldn't come out no matter how fast they spun around in circles or how many stormtroopers were chasing them.  Or, if Willow had been in a bad mood, she'd set Darth Vader there.  But most of the time, Luke Skywalker would sit on the jewelry box, often letting the tired porcelain ballerina rest her permanently flexed knee on his shoulder.  Luke was just that kind of guy...nice, safe, dependable, one of the good guys.

"Luke had Darth for a daddy, and now I have Spike.  Kinda fitting when you think about it," Willow said to herself through a smile.

Getting back to the business at hand, Willow ignored the spinning dancer to slowly finger through her rather small jewelry collection from childhood, items that she hadn't worn in years, looking for anything to use for the spell she had in mind.

Then she found it--a clunky old 'silver' ring, with a large black oval center, that Xander had given her when they were kids.  Willow smiled as she remembered how many times she'd forced her dark-haired friend to play 'wedding' with her using that ring.  Xander had often said afterwards that that he wished he'd given her a pet rock instead.

Willow slipped the heavy metal band on her finger, waiting for the oval-shaped 'stone' to do its trick.  After a few moments, the black center slowly changed to a more golden color.  'The color of nervousness and tension,' she reminded herself, thinking back to the different colors of the mood ring and the meaning of each.

"That seems accurate to me," she said aloud, before turning back to the spell book.  She was going to have to combine a couple of incantations for her plan to succeed, but they were both simple spells, and she had no doubt in her ability to pull it off.

After a moment's thought, Willow placed her old jewelry box on her dresser with its lid open.  Then she set to work, turning the mood ring from a forgotten fad into a body temp regulator for her sire.

***

When Spike managed to carefully sneak his way back to the basement of Willow's dorm, he found his new childe waiting for him.

"Just what do you think you're doing, mister?"  Willow demanded, tapping her foot, hands on her hips.

Oddly amused by her display of anger, Spike closed the door behind him before replying.  "Don't you mean *master*, Wendy?"

"At this rate, I'm not going to have one for very long.  Why did you go out there, Spike?  The bad guys could have found you!"

Unaccustomed to having anyone concerned about him, Spike dismissed the angry redhead's worry with a wave of his hand.  "They didn't though, did they?  Besides, I wanted a drink.  A demon can't survive on blood alone, you know."

Willow's eyes narrowed.  She wasn't about to let him just ignore the seriousness of the matter.  "It's my job to defend you, but I can't do that if you're locked up in some underground prison again, can I?"  Willow didn't wait for an answer before continuing to tell him exactly what she thought of his behavior.  She stalked a few steps closer to her sire and wagged a matronly finger at him.  "Think about that the next time you go foolishly strolling about town!  If you wanted a beer or a bottle of wine or something you should've asked me to get it for you.  That's my job, isn't it?  But no....not you.  Not the big bad..." Willow's words trailed off as she suddenly remembered her place.  Her hand fell to her side, and she lowered her eyes toward the floor as an embarrassed heat rose enveloped her cheeks.  "I'm probably not supposed to yell at my sire, even if it's for his own good, am I?" she asked in a more demure manner.

In answer, Spike closed the small distance between them.  Willow found herself shuffling back from the advancing vampire until the feeling of the cement wall told her that she'd run out of room.  With mere millimeters between them, Spike loomed over the redhead.

"Look at me, Willow," he said sternly.  When Willow met his gaze, he continued.  "Watch the tone, young lady.  Some sires would kill you for daring to speak to them that way.  You're just bloody lucky I'm so forgiving and understanding."

Spike's face was unreadable, and Willow wasn't sure whether he was making a joke or deadly serious, so she decided to play it safe.  "Yes, sire.  You're right, of course, and I'm sorry, but I was just...worried about you.  If you'd gotten captured, I don't know if I'd be able to get you out.  We don't know enough about the soldiers whereabouts yet."

"Then I guess it's about time you put that brain of yours to good use again, isn't it?  Break out the books, turn on your computer, enlist the help of your band of evil-fighting associates, you know the drill..."

"I will, Spike," Willow vowed solemnly.  "That's how I plan on spending most of the day tomorrow, since it's Saturday anyway.  Besides, I really need to spend some time with Buffy, Xander and Giles, too, before they get suspicious."

Spike's face twisted in disgust at the mention of her friends' names, then he backed away from his mercurial childe.  "See to it that you don't come back empty handed, Wendy."

"I won't," she replied then let loose a breath of relief when Spike gave her some room.  He seemed to be willing to let her previous outburst go unpunished.  Still, she wasn't ready to drop the subject entirely.  She was actually worried about her sire and hated the thought that he could have gotten himself captured because of her.  "Spike, did...did you go there, to Willy's, and put yourself in danger just to look out for me?" she asked the vampire hesitantly.  "Did you think I couldn't do it?"

Spike behaved as if he didn't hear her questions, shrugging out of his leather duster before hanging it on the nail that protruded from the back of the door.  He felt around in its pockets for a bit until he found one of his cigarettes.  Willow waited patiently for his answer, watching as he used a furnace's pilot burner to light his cigarette.

After a few deep drags, he turned his attention back to her.

"As you may recall, Wendy, it's my job to protect you.  Did you really think I'd send you into Willy's on your own so soon?  You saw the kind of clientele Willy caters to, and it's no place for the likes of you."

"And what exactly is that supposed to mean?" Willow asked, doing her best to keep her tone even.  "Exactly what kind of *likes* am I?"

Spike smirked, shaking his head a bit at how easy it was to get his childe's dander up.  It was too easy to push her buttons, and that meant she could be easily goaded into making foolish errors.  It looked like it was time to teach her another lesson, and Spike was quite willing to play teacher.

"You're young," he began, "innocent, and such a bloody do-gooder that I'm practically blinded by the reflection of your halo."

"For your information," she said quite haughtily, "I'm 18 years old, and I'm not that innocent.  After all, I had a boyfriend and he was in a band...and you know how musicians are..."  Willow's look of determination faded at the thought of Oz.  At the same time, she detected a hint of disappointment in her sire's face, aimed at her.

"And not only that," she added in a rush, trying to ignore the melancholy feeling that was tugging at her heartstrings, "but I'm getting pretty good at the witchy stuff now.  Hence the need to breakout the Dust Buster at Willy's earlier this evening!"

Spike was relieved to hear some semblance of pride in his childe.  For a minute it looked like she was going to let her emotional pain get the better of her again.  Although at the last minute she seemed to be able to ignore her feelings of inadequacy, it wasn't enough.  She needed to toughen up to survive in his world and do it fast.

Spike took another long draw from his cigarette before continuing with the lesson.  "As impressed as I was by your toothpick trick, I can't help wondering what else you can do...if anything, Wendy."

Willow frowned.  "I can do other stuff...and...besides, most members of my Wicca group can't even float a feather!  All they care about are bake sales and toe rings!"  Willow wanted to stick her tongue out but restrained herself.  She remembered his little speech about controlling her anger during the ritual, and she had pushed her luck once already that evening.

"I have no doubt that there is power in you, Wendy," Spike said as he leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms about his chest.  "I can feel it...I tasted it in your blood.  But I don't need Glenda the bloody Good Witch right now, do I?  I'm hoping for a bit more Wicked Witch of the East...well, minus the warts and green skin, of course."

Willow shook her head.  "I'm not going to delve into the black arts for you, Spike."

"I wasn't expecting you to.  All I'm looking for is some little sign that there is more to you than sweetness and light, tainted with the occasional bouts of girlie depression."

"I have a dark side too, you know," Willow told him, standing up a little straighter.  "And just because I don't wear combat boots, shave my head and have my nose pierced doesn't mean I'm a goody-goody."

Spike laughed.  "Oh please, luv.  You're as goody-goody as they come!  I'm surprised you haven't melted into a sugary puddle at my feet just from being near a demon!"

Willow glared at him, but bit her tongue.  She knew he was trying to upset her, again.  One of the joys of being a childe, she guessed, was that she was always in training and constantly being tested.

Even though he could see the anger simmering in her green eyes, Spike was pleased when she didn't rise to the bait.  Perhaps she was on her way to learning to control her anger, but all of her other rampant emotions could easily be her undoing.  The lesson wasn't finished yet...maybe it never would be.

Spike grabbed two wooden crates and placed them next to the wall across from the boilers.  He sat on one, leaning back against the cooler cement blocks, then patted the empty seat next to him.

"Maybe it's time I got to know you a little better, Wendy.  I'm sure your life story will be utterly fascinating."

Willow's anger faltered a little at the change in tactics.  She took her place next to him, shifting a few times on the rough wooden crate in an attempt to get comfortable, but it was useless.  Between the heat of the room and her nervousness around her sire, she'd have to settle for simply being relieved to get off of her feet.

"Tell me about yourself," Spike said as he dropped his cigarette and ground it out with the toe of his combat boot.

Willow hesitated.  She wasn't sure what Spike was really up to, and she wasn't in the mood to be toyed with.

"Fine.  I'll start then," Spike cut in when she didn't respond immediately.  The vampire turned to face her a little better.  He made a display of studying her for a moment as if he could read her life story from her outward appearance.

Willow wilted under his gaze and found herself staring at her hands instead of his penetrating blue eyes.

"You're an only child," the vampire started, "but not because your parents had faulty parts but because they didn't want to interrupt their busy lives with any more children.  They give you anything you want, except for the one thing you always wanted, their attention.  So, you grew up quite independent and a bit of an outsider, unable to relate to many of the other little boys and girls because in many ways you were already an adult.  The fact that you're probably a genius didn't exactly endear you to the cheerleader chits or football prats either, did it?"

Willow glanced up from her hands to stare into the vampire's eyes.  How did he figure all that out?  She wasn't sure whether to be angry, impressed, or terrified.

"How am I doing so far, Pet?"

Willow couldn't come up with a suitable retort before Spike continued.

"Then, to get back at your negligent parents, you decided you'd give witchcraft a go.  Might as well kill two annoying birds with one stone, right?  Not only can you now defy your parents, you can also feel useful in The Slayer's fight against evil.  It gives you a feeling of self-worth that you've never had before."

Unable to listen to anymore of Spike's psychobabble, Willow jumped up.   "That's not true!" she declared.  "I have plenty of self-worth because I'm good at lots of things.  And turning to Wicca had nothing to do with rebelling against my parents.  It was just something I found fascinating, and if it happens to help Buffy save the world, then that's okay too."

Spike opened his mouth to continue with his verbal painting of the girl before him, but Willow wasn't finished yet.

"And I do have a darker side."  Willow paused for a moment, quickly debating what to tell him.  She doubted that now was the best time to talk about her vampire twin.

"I'm waiting to hear about your brushes with the devil, Wendy," Spike prodded.

"Ooh!  I know!  I bet you didn't know that I like to take marshmallows when we go demon hunting."

"Not following you, Pet," Spike said with an air of frustration.

"Well, we usually burn their bodies, at least the ones that don't go poof, and I like to toast marshmallows over the fire."

"You cook marshmallows over their burning corpses?" Spike repeated, unable to contain his surprise.

Willow nodded.  "Only the demons that aren't really stinky, though.  I like them burnt to a crisp on the outside but all gooey on the inside."  When Spike raised an eyebrow, Willow quickly added.  "Oh, the marshmallows, that is.  Not the demons."

Spike was silent for a moment then a broad smile crept onto his face.  He was expecting her to say that she'd once sneaked a drink from her parents liquor cabinet or that she'd been undercharged for school supplies at a store and hadn't informed the cashier.  But never something quite this twisted.  He was elated.

"Maybe there's some hope for you after all, Wendy."

At the obvious approval on her sire's face, Willow's mood lightened considerably.  "Maybe next time I help Buffy weed out a demon nest, I'll bring some extra marshmallows for you.  'Cause I hate to eat alone."

"Why?  Slutty's afraid they'll ruin her slayerish figure, is she?" Spike asked with a sneer.

Willow nodded.  "Yeah, and well, they think it's kinda gross, too," she added with a shrug.

Spike stood and moved a few steps closer to his childe.  "Some people just don't know how to relax and have a spot of fun now and then, do they?" he teased, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

Willow couldn't help returning his impish grin, and they stood smiling at each other for a moment, then Willow broke the spell.

"Oh, I almost forgot.  I have something for you."  Willow pulled the now magical ring out of her pocket and handed it to Spike.  "This should solve some of our problems, anyway."

Spike stared at the bulky, odd-looking ring.  The strange, flat, black stone or crystal on the top was a sharp contrast against his pale skin.  The vampire couldn't quite place where he'd seen one like it before, but no matter what the stone was, the ring was downright ugly.

"And what, exactly, am I supposed to do with this bloody Cracker Jack prize?"

"It's a ring...you wear it...and it will keep your body temp up to a toasty 98.7 degrees so that they won't be able to seek you out with any of their heat sensors.  Now you'll be a free man and able to get out a little more safely at night if you want."

Spike frowned as he slid the ring on his pinkie finger, the only digit that the tiny band could even hope to fit on. "It feels strange...all tingly, but not in a good way."

"That means it's working.  I could only charge it for a short period of time, so every day or so I'll need to redo the spells to keep it going.  But as long as you feel the tingle, you'll know it's working."

"Needs recharging?" he asked, distracted by the odd sensation.

Willow nodded then slowly reached out to touch Spike's other hand.  He raised an eyebrow at her action but said nothing.

"It's beginning to work.  I think you already feel warmer, although it's hard to tell in the boiler room since you tend to blend into room temperature after a while."

"It's bloody working, all right," the blond vampire growled.  "It's like the ring is heating me from the inside out, and I don't mind telling you that it's an odd feeling."

"I'm sure you'll get used to it, Spike.  You seem pretty good at adapting to changes in your life," she said softly, taking her hand away from his normal feeling skin.  She glanced at the mood ring and noted that it was still black, indicating that Spike was in an ill-tempered mood.  She vaguely wondered if she'd ever see it change to any other color.

"Survival of the fittest is based on adaptation, Wendy," Spike lectured, rather enjoying playing mentor.  "You have to roll with the punches or kiss your bloody bum good-bye."

Willow sighed.  Adaptation wasn't one of her stronger suits, but she could work on it.  But not now...she was tired and had a busy day ahead of her.

"Speaking of good-byes, I think I'll leave you alone now, Spike.  That is if you're done with my services for the evening," Willow said through a yawn without thinking.

"Since it appears as if you're a little too tired to service me any further tonight, Pet," he leered, "I'll let you toddle up to bed.  But if I were you, I'd start taking extra vitamins and iron and get used to less sleep."  Spike opened the door to let her out.  "After all, you are supposed to be at my beck and call night and day, Wendy."

As Willow stepped out into dim hallway, she just barely stopped herself from arguing that she had a life of her own to lead as well.  Instead, she played along.

"I'm not the one who slept all day, Casper.  Perhaps I'll pick up some Geritol for you while I'm out."

With that final retort, Willow scurried towards the stairs that would take her away from Spike and back to her room.
 

~Part 8~

Willow Rosenberg had discovered at the tender age of 10 in the middle of Mrs. Leidermyer's 4th grade class that she worked best under pressure.  It wasn't exactly a "Eureka!" kind of moment in the history of her life but nevertheless, it was a profound one.

Willow had discovered, in essence, that she bored easily.  So to keep herself from getting bored, she took on more work.  She read more books.  She listened to music.  She went out and explored any and every subject that caught her attention.  The more pressure she put on herself to learn, the better her grades became.  Which in its own way, probably helped protect her from the influences of the Hellmouth over which she lived.  Because frankly, Willow just didn't have time for supernatural happenings.  Which meant that the only evil in her life was the occasional run-in with Cordelia and her pack.  Otherwise, Willow was happy with her life.

The arrival of Buffy Summers had changed all that and Willow's life did a complete turn around.  Only, it wasn't as much of a turn around as she first thought it would be.  Books of demonology replaced books of science.  Late nights on the Internet searching for exports from Latin American countries became searches for obscure rituals.  Fighting vampires took the place of study hours.  So, in the end, she'd really only changed one set of high-pressure actives for another. And while she could never explain the joy that doing 50 things at once gave her, Willow excelled in her path.

Spike and the search for the mysterious G.I. Joes running around Sunnydale wrecking havok with the undead population (and her new sire) just became two more balls she had to juggle.

Fortunately, Willow knew herself to be very good at juggling.

She only wondered from time to time, if she was going to be as good at catching, when it came time to stop the balls' rotation.

But that was in the nameless future and right now she had a job to do, so Willow did what Willow did best. Her method was unique -- a conglomeration of abstract free association matched with an almost encyclopedic memory of bits and pieces of knowledge both profound and mundane.  In otherwords, Willow thought.

I'm a pseudo-vampire.  I'm a childe.  I wonder why they spell that with an e on the end?  Why not just child without an e?  Who came up with that one?

"Willow, will you be so kind as to pass me the book in front of you?"

Willow looked up from her laptop to the books piled before her on the table.  "Um, Giles, would that be the Compendium or Thorton's Tablex?"

Giles wrinkled his nose disdainfully.  "The Compendium, please, if you don't mind.  Thorton, I think, will be quite useless in this situation."

Flashing him a small smile, Willow passed the book and then went back to her own search, the part of her brain worrying about what she had begun to refer to as her "Spike problem," picking back up effortlessly where she'd left off.

Wonder if Giles knows.  Childe is an old-world spelling.  Well, duh, vamps are old world, or at least old.  Well, most of them anyway.  Spike's old.  He's 200 and something.  Wow.  Two hundred years.  Wish I could get him to tell me about what he's seen.  Not necessarily what he's done.  I'd be happy to skip the blood and gore part.

The clatter of Buffy, Xander and Anya arriving back at the magic shop pulled her momentarily from both her internal musings and the computer splayed open in front of her.  Anya was bouncing slightly on her toes and she had that bright-eyed glow she got when she had just had the privilege of watched Xander kick demon butt.  Willow smiled slightly to herself.  She bet Anya would be dragging Xander off for a little
post-celebratory sex within fifteen minutes.  Catching Anya's bouncing starting to speed up, she revised that estimate down to ten minutes.

Giles, turning halfway around in his own chair, flicked nervous eyes over his charges, doing a quick check for serious injuries.   Only when all three
seemed to be unharmed did the small knot of tension that had lodged between his shoulder blades ease.

"Buffy," he called to his Slayer, a smile of warm affection lighting his features, "How did your patrol go this evening?"

"Wackiness abounded this evening," Buffy answering, starting across the magic shop only to stop suddenly in her tracks.  "I just used the word abounded, didn't I?"

Xander laughed behind her.  "Yep, the word abounded was indeed used.  So, before my delicate psyche can be further damaged by words not normally used by everyday American teens, Anya and I are out of here.  Later, guys."

The words were barely out of his mouth before the two were gone, leaving a bemused Giles, Willow and Buffy staring at an empty doorway.

"I believe," Giles said, still staring after the departed duo, "that was a new record."

Willow glanced down at her watch and then back up at Giles.  "No, not his personal best but a respectable five and half minutes from entry to exit."

Shaking his head with fond, if somewhat exasperated amusement, Giles said, "Those two worry me sometimes."

Then turning to face his Slayer who had pulled up her own chair at the table he got down to the business of the evening.  "so, Buffy, you mentioned unusual.  In what way exactly were this evening's activities unusual?"

"It was totally weird, even for vampires.  I mean, I attack this guy, I've got him pinned and I'm about to stake him and this other guy comes out of nowhere and hits me from behind.  He grabs the first vamp and they both hightail it out of the cemetery.  That's not exactly regular vamp behavior.  Both attacking, that's normal.  Leaving me to finish one while the other escapes with his unlife, that's normal too.  But vamps aren't big on saving each other, you know?"

As Buffy began her explanation, Willow turned part of her attention back to the searches currently running on her computer and the ever-present dilemma of Spike.

The GI Joes haven't left any blood and bodies. They wanted to capture the demons. But why? They did whatever to Spike to make him harmless.  What would be causing that?  Would it have to be tied into his brain?  Maybe.  Maybe not.  Some kind of neural transmitter or data chip.  Something that could have instructions written on it like "No killing humans." If it is programmable, could I rewrite the program? Does that mean that Spike really does have Intell inside? Scully had a chip in her neck in the X-Files.  Does Spike's work the same way?  Bet it does.  The X-Files had the Consortium, Cancer Man and his friends.  Do we have a Cancer Man?  This is like the X-Files.  They have money.  They are hidden. Where do you hide a bunch of soldiers every day so no one notices them?  And soldiers mean money and lots of it - money for weapons and clothes and to build that complex Spike saw.  That kind of money only comes from the military. Duh!  It would explain the uniforms. But, FBI?  CIA?  Do I still have the codes to hack into the CIA?  Bet the passwords have changed.  Going to have to update my hacker files.   Geez, I haven't hacked the CIA since . . . wow, since freshman year. That seems like ages ago.

The thought no sooner crystallized before Willow had opened up a new dialog box on her computer and started sketching out the queries she'd have to run before delving into the twisted maze of the government's computer system.  One search would focus on large reassignments in military personnel.  The other was going to be looking for transfers of large sums of money within the Defense Department.  It would give her a place to start but she'd have to make sure that her programs were perfect.  Getting caught rummaging through top secret military files and spending the
next 10-20 years in jail was not high on her list of things to do.

Wow, all those years of watching the X-Files finally pays off. And people say that television isn't educational.  What about Sesame Street and Mr. Rogers and Mr. Wizard?

And while her fingers danced across her keyboard and mind whirled down labyrinthine paths of military hierarchy, Willow half listened to Buffy's account of the evening, answering the Slayer's comment with a distracted mumble, the part of her mind still listening answering automatically.

"What was that, Willow?"

Willow, her attention still divided, looked up to find herself face to face with a curious Slayer and Watcher.  She blinked for a minute trying to backtrack in her mind exactly what the conversation had been about.

TV as education.  X-Files.  Defense Department. Money.  Soldiers.  Odd protective vamp behavior. Bingo.  That was it.

"I said that the vampire you attacked was a childe rather than a minion."

Buffy looked from her best friend over to her Watcher, her expression slightly puzzled.  "There's a difference?"

Before Giles could swing into lecture mode, Willow beat him to the punch. "Most definitely.  Minions are cannon-fodder.  The vampire equivalent of a Star Trek red-shirt.  A childe is . . . well, your childe.  A vampire will make thousands of minions but he or she will only make a handful of childer."

This time the expression on Buffy's face was more than just slightly puzzled.  "Childer?"

"You know, plural of childe."

"Oh.  So, Will, why do you say this vamp was a childe?"

"Because the second vampire protected him, which means he was either his sire or a minion sent to keep tabs on the childe.  On the whole, vampires will let a minion get staked and won't bat an eye.  But a childe is an investment in their bloodline and in their family.  A Master Vampire will both train and protect a childe and in turn the childe protects his or her Master.  Of course, that's not to say that the sire won't hesitate to discipline or even kill a childe. It kind of falls under the rule of "I brought you into this world, I can take you out."

And as the words left her mouth, Willow realized that she'd just given Buffy, one of the same 'lessons' that Spike had given her.  She couldn't decide if this was good thing or a bad thing.

Buffy frowned good-naturedly at her friend and then turned a mock scowl on her Watcher.  "That does it, Giles.  You've been keeping Willow cooped up with the research books waaaay too long."

Turning back to Willow she added, "It's a good thing tomorrow is Saturday.  You, Willow Rosenburg, have been putting entirely to many hours into books and computers.  Tomorrow we will go the mall and shop."

Willow's eyes widened in panic, and she sought frantically for a way out of the shopping trip. Shopping with Buffy meant an all day affair.  She
didn't have time to shop.  She had computer searches to run, and she'd thought of a few questions she wanted to ask Willy about the demon disappearances. Not to mention she had a vampire in the basement to keep entertained.  She couldn't leave Spike alone for a whole day.  He was likely to get himself captured or killed or something equally nasty.

"Buffy, I-I can't.  I think I've figured out an angle on the guys in the camo-gear."  She gestured down to her computer.  "I think I might have a way to figure out who they are, if maybe not exactly what they are doing."

Buffy, however, had learned a few things about resolve faces from her friendship with Willow.  "All work and no play make a dull witch.  You can start the computer searches before we leave, and they'll be all ready and waiting for us by the time we're done.  As for the guys playing army, they haven't done anything yet as far as I can tell.  They don't seem to be a danger."

"But they . . ." and bit off her words as she remembered that she was the only one to know what they'd done to Spike.  Frustration made her fists
clench, and she wished for just a moment that she could indulge in a good scream.   Then, heaving a sigh, she forced herself to relax.  Drawing in a deep breath she fixed a smile on Buffy and nodded her head. "Okay.  Shopping it is tomorrow."

Just great, she thought.  Spike was not going to understand this.

+++++

Meanwhile, while Willow stalked an elusive electronic quarry and tried to squirm her way out of day of shopping, Spike stalked his own enemy with a
methodical cunning that would have surprised most who only knew the vampire by his impatient reputation.

Words, hunter soft, were whispered into the air, as long, elegant fingers caressed the cool edges of his weapon of choice.  "Now, I've got you. No escape this time."

Eyes gleaming gold in the shifting light, Spike plotted his move.  Slowly, deliberately, savoring the anticipation of ultimate completion, he struck with
the lightning reflexes of a supernatural predator. "Check, ya bastard!  Let's see you weasel out of this one."

Getting up to move to the other side of the board, Spike sat back down with a frown as he studied the chessboard before him.  "Not so fast," he muttered. "It ain't over 'til the fat lady bleeds to death."

Ten minutes later even he admitted that he lost . . . well, and won too.  And now he was bored.  Willow had left him 'diversions' as she called them -- a chess set, books, even the day's newpaper, but he was still bored.

He hated inactivity almost as much as he hated being stuck by himself.  He picked back up the white queen and turned the piece over in his hand, caressing the cool marble.

White Queen, pure and elegant in her lines.  Reaching out his other hand he picked up the White King and held it up next to the White Queen and stared at the pieces.  The Queen was the most powerful piece on the board.  She could move in any direction.  Her unpredictability was her greatest strength.  White Queen belonged with White King.

Spike let the King slip from his fingers to fall with a sharp *crack* to the cement floor of boiler room. Addressing the piece still clasped in his hand, Spike murmured, "But your White King left you, didn't he, little Witch?"

Spike reached over to the board and this time picked up the Black King, bring it up on level with the Queen.  White Queen didn't belong with Black King. Vampire Slayer's best friend didn't belong with Vampire.

Change the rules of the game.  Change the game itself. "It's going to be a most interesting game, luv.  No doubt about it."

Laughing at his philosophical turn of thought, Spike put back the two chess pieces and stood to gather up his coat.  He'd had enough of sitting in this tiny room.  He had his own ways of finding out about the soldier boys and Willy could always be counted on to be a fountain of useful information.

Patting down the duster's pockets, he made an automatic check for cigarettes and lighter.  Noting that he had everything he needed, he headed for the door, only to stop once more in front of the chess set.  Reaching down Spike rearranged the pieces on the board until they were to his satisfaction, then whistling a jaunty tune he headed out the door.

Behind him, arrayed across the board, the White Queen and the Black King now stood together on one side against the combined forces of the other pieces.

+++++

The next day

Willow was quickly approaching a nervous breakdown. It wasn't that she wasn't having fun, in fact seeing herself in those hot pink leather pants that Buffy had insisted she try on, made the whole trip worthwhile. It was oddly comforting to know where she stood in the whole world of 'can I wear leather pants or not?'  But part of her was worrying about Spike, which she realized sometime between J. Crew and the Gap, was
decidedly odd.  And after the last couple of years, her definition of odd wasn't exactly on par with everyone elses.

Yep, odd was a good word choice.  A few days earlier, Spike had been firmly in the 'enemy' category, now she was worrying about him.  That was odd.  That wasn't normal.  She knew that but couldn't seem to get worked up about it beyond recognizing it for its oddness.  So in between worrying about keeping Buffy from finding out about Spike, worrying about Spike himself, she squeezed in a little worry about herself and her lack
of concern over the oddity that her life had become.

"Hey, Wills," Buffy interrupted her internal musing, "what do think of these shoes?  Do they say 'I'm gonna kick your ass' or 'I'm an ubergeek?'"

Willow shifted her attention down to Buffy's feet and the chunky black heeled halfboots she was wearing. Giving the shoes the dedication that the purchase of a new pair of shoes deserves, she finally made her decision.

"Definitely more pain than geek."

"Cool," Buffy said, smiling down at her soon-to-be new footwear.

"Buffy, why don't I head down to the food court and get us a table while you pay for the shoes?"

"Works for me.  See you there in a few."

Gathering up her purchases, Willow headed down the main hall of the mall towards the far end.  It was a whimper and a small cry abruptly cut off coming from one of the mall's access corridors that alerted her that something was wrong.  As always, her first thought was to run back and get Buffy, but something in that small whimper convinced her that going back for the Slayer would take way too long.  Gathering up her courage, she took off to where the cry had come from.

She found what she expected, although sometimes she really, really wished she'd find something she wouldn't expect - a little kid playing with a cute puppy, a couple locked in a passionate embrace, but no, not here in good old Sunnydale, here, she got a vampire.  A vampire holding a very scared little girl in her arms.

What to do?  What to do?  Geez, I wish Buffy was here. And why are there no convenient toothpicks when you need them?  Damn it!  I want puppies and young lovers.

"Let her go!"

Okay, that was original.  I've got to work on my routine.

The vampire didn't even turn, simply snarling over her shoulder in Willow's direction.  "Get lost before I eat you as dessert."

It was the utter contempt in the other's voice that tripped Willow's temper.

How dare she act all demon-y superior!

"I said put her down."

And maybe this time, there was the hint of real threat in her voice, for the other woman dropped the little girl in her arms to the floor, to focus her full attention on Willow.

This could be bad.  Very, very bad.  Spike was going to kill her.  He'd just gone to all the trouble to claim her as a childe and she was going to get herself killed.  Not to mention that Buffy was going to be seriously pissed.  Spike and Buffy.  Talk about a rock and a hard place.  Spike and Buffy would both . . . Spike and Buffy.  Oh yeah.  That'll work.

Giving the vampire her best confident smile, Willow spoke to the slowly advancing vampire.  "If you kill me, my Master is going to be extremely upset.  He's not someone you'd want to upset."

The woman paused, her yellow eyes flicking disdainfully over Willow.  "I should have known," she hissed in superior amusement.  "Nothing but a human slave, lowest of all scum."

And the anger that had sprung up earlier returned to drown out the fear until with two quick steps Willow was nose-to-fang with the other woman, her own eyes narrowed in indignation.

"That's human childe, to you, minion," Willow hissed. "Human for a reason, human for a plan.  And though human, I'm an acknowledged childe."

Willow saw the shocked look in the other's face and pressed her advantage.  "My sire is William the Bloody, known as Spike, childe of Angelus, childe of Darla, childe of the Master.  I know my lineage, minion.  Do you even know who sired you?"

And as the words flowed out of her sharp and fast, Willow thought that for the first time, she had a small understanding of what exactly blood meant to a vampire.  "And since you are obviously sireless, I'll give you a free lesson.  The Slayer walks these halls. I'm human, she can't touch me, you don't have that protection.  So, I'd take your own advice and run while you still can."

Without another the word the vampire turned and retreated further into the recesses of the hallway, leaving both Willow and the little girl who'd almost been her afternoon snack behind.

How rude!  <sigh>  Wonder if it was the thought of the Slayer or my illustrious sire?

A small, frightened voice cut through Willow's thoughts.  "I want my mommy!"

Squatting down in front of the sniffling little girl, Willow let her wind her arms around her neck.  A muffled voice, from a face that was buried tightly
against her shoulder asked, "Is the mean lady gone?"

Willow nodded gravely as a tear-streaked face turned up to her.  "Yeah, the mean lady is gone."

Willow slowly stood, the child still wrapped tight around her, and headed back down to the corridor to the mall.  There were no more through the heavy double doors when the little girl squealed in delighted and released her tight hold, sliding down Willow's body to hit the ground running.  Willow smiled in amusement as a frantic-looking young woman gesturing wildly to a mall security officer was practically tackled from behind.

"Momma! Momma! She saved me from the mean lady!"

Uh oh, Willow thought.  Attention not of the good kind.  Time to make a hasty retreat.  Fortunately, Buffy arrived, coming up behind her.

"Trouble?" she asked softly.

Willow nodded.  "Vampire thought the little girl over there might make a good snack."

"You okay?"

Yeah.  I mentioned that the Slayer was just around the corner.  Guess she figured that today was a really bad day to die.  She left."

"Good for you, Wills!  So, threatening the undead population always makes me hungry, how about you?"

Cocking her head to one side, Willow did an internal inventory and discovered she was ravenous.  Bouncing a little on her toes from the adrenaline rush still sizzling through her, she turned to Buffy.  "You know, I'm starved.  Let's eat."

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