Willow sat up and slowly opened her eyes. The room was a mass of eerie
shadows, the single bare bulb hanging from the ceiling casting a weak
glow about the empty room. She attempted to raise her hand to rub the
sore spot on the side of her head, only to discover that her hands were
tightly bound behind her back. Swallowing hard at the panic that
threatened to consume her, she willed her fuzzy brain to think back
over the events of the evening.

After having nearly studied herself into a cross-eyed stupor, she had
shoved her book away and gone in search of Buffy. At some point in the
evening, the slayer must have decided to go out. At any rate, she was
nowhere to be found in the small apartment they shared together. The
need to get out of the hot, stuffy apartment overrode her more normal
aversion to traipsing around Sunnydale alone after dark.

Willow closed her eyes and leaned back against the wall behind her.

"Clowns?" she thought to herself. "Were they really clowns?"

She had turned the corner and crossed the street, heading nowhere in
particular. She came to a dead stop at the sight of the three figures
approaching her. All three were dressed in baggy, polka-dotted outfits,
tall, cone-shaped hats, and huge, round-toed shoes. The first of the
trio had cartwheeled his way up to her, stopping in front of her, his
round, red nose nearly touching her own.

"Hello, little girl," the clown smiled through the heavy make-up
smeared over his face.

She whirled around, only to find the second clown, who had circled
around her, bouncing on his feet and effectively blocking her path. The
moment she turned back to ask the first clown what he wanted, the third
of the group had flailed out at her. She heard loud, bubbling laughter
just before her world went dark.

Willow started as the door across the empty room slowly creaked open.
She huddled against the wall as though trying to disappear into it.

"Willow?" a whispered hissed drifted through the door.

"Spike?" she breathed hopefully. "Spike, is that you?"

The blonde vampire stepped into the light and knelt down in front of
her. He turned her enough to reach the ropes that bound her wrists and,
pulling a knife from his duster pocket, quickly cut them away. Her
trembling hands immediately found his strong arms, and he put his hands
on her waist and helped her up off the floor.

"How did you find me?" she asked, never knowing how happy she could be
to find herself in the arms of a vampire.

"I followed the--" he stopped and looked down at her, his blue eyes
filled with disbelief even as a grin tugged at his lips. "Clowns?"

"Clowns," she nodded. "We have to get out of here."

"You're the only woman I know who could get herself kidnapped by
clowns," he teased good-naturedly as he led her out of the room.

"I didn't exactly ask to be kidnapped by clowns," she muttered. "Of all
the dark, evil creatures that picnic in this town, I have to get carted
off by clowns. Let's not tell Buffy about this, okay?"

"I'll consider it," he answered. "But that would mean you owe me,
wouldn't it?"

"Would it?" she squeaked, not entirely liking the idea.

Her heartbeat quickened as his arm tightened around her waist and his
hand clamped over her mouth. He pulled her back into the shadows as the
three clowns entered the far end of the building. Spike felt Willow
shiver against him and gave her an encouraging hug. The realization
that his arm around her was not really so unpleasant was interrupted by
the voice of one of the clowns.

"She's gone!" the clown growled as he eyed the open door behind which
the redhead had been imprisoned.

Willow's hand found Spike's, and he squeezed it. The remaining two
clowns followed the first into the make-shift prison cell, and the
blonde vampire slowly urged Willow along the wall toward the exit.

"There!" an angry voice shouted as Spike tugged open the heavy, wooden
door.

Spike flew out the door, dragging Willow along behind him. They ran
down the sidewalk and around the corner, only to find themselves facing
the clowns they had just left behind.

"How the bloody hell did they do that?" Spike wondered aloud.

The first clown laughed coldly and reached for the bright yellow flower
pinned to his costume. He squeezed it, and Spike hissed as he felt it
spray a liquid over his hand.

"Holy water," he growled.

The angered vampire grabbed hold of the clown by one of the fuzzy
buttons on the front of his costume. It came loose in his hand, and he
flung it to the ground. The clown lunged at him as another advanced on
Willow. Spike swung hard at his attacker, but the blow, deflected by
the clown's greasy makeup, merely grazed his cheek.

Willow shrieked as the second clown grabbed hold of her arm. She
wriggled in his strong grip as his other hand reached around to grab a
handful of her hair. She lifted her foot and brought it solidly down on
the clown's round-toed shoe. With a loud scream, the clown exploded
into confetti-like pieces. Willow gasped and looked over at Spike.

"Their shoes! Spike, stomp on their shoes!" she shouted.

Spike, however, had latched onto the red ball of the first clown's
nose. It, too, came free in his hand, and the clown popped, like a
pricked balloon, into nonexistence.

"Noses work, too," he called back to the redhead.

Willow, however, could not get her hand on the third clown's nose. She
groaned as he grabbed her wrist and twisted her arm behind her back.
Spike whirled around to face them.

"All I want is the little redhead," the clown snarled at Spike. "Leave
us."

"Like hell, Bozo," Spike sneered. "The little redhead owes me a favor,
and I intend to collect."

A strange tingling feeling raced through Willow's body at Spike's
declaration. With a quick swipe of his hand, the vampire whisked Willow
out of the clown's grasp. She tumbled to the sidewalk as Spike's hand
wrapped around the clown's red, bushy hair. The vampire yanked hard and
pulled the wig off the clown's head. Willow's eyes widened as the clown
disappeared into an ooze of silly-string.

Spike reached down and pulled Willow up onto her feet. She whimpered as
his fingers made contact with the bruised flesh on her wrist. He
examined it in the dim light of a the streetlamp before raising it to
place a cold kiss on it.

"Let's get you inside," he suggested.

Willow, all too willing to take his advice, allowed him to lead her
along the street to his apartment. He settled her onto the sofa and
left her for a moment. When he returned, he was carrying a cold, wet
washcloth which he wound carefully around her injured wrist.

"It isn't too bad," she assured him. "I think it's just bruised."

"Good," he said softly.

"Spike?" she murmured, and his blue eyes found the emerald of hers.
"Thanks."

He smiled and pulled her onto his lap, "You owe me."

"I remember," she nodded.

Her lips parted as his mouth met hers, and Spike explored the warm
recesses of her mouth with his tongue. She shivered slightly as she
felt his fingers unbuttoning her shirt to lower his mouth to the
rounded hills of her breasts. Gently, he pushed her back onto the couch
and lowered his body over hers.

"I won't do this if you don't want me to," he told her.

"I want," she admitted. "I have wanted."

"So have I, pet," he replied. "Who knew it would take clowns?"

She giggled, until his mouth found hers. Spike pushed her shirt off her
shoulders and removed her bra. Willow lifted her hips to allow him to
remove her shorts and panties. The vampire grinned as her eager eyes
watched him undress himself before returning to its place on top of
her.

"Spike?" she whispered, suddenly uncomfortable. "We could do this in
your--"

"Bed?" he asked. "We will, later."

Her shyness vanished as his fingers found the soft folds of her sex and
gently opened them to rub against the nub of her clit. She sighed as he
massaged the sensitive bud, wetting her, readying her for him. He
inserted a finger into her hot channel as his mouth moved to her
nipples, teasing and sucking them. A second finger snaked inside of
her, and Willow thrust up, eager for this intimate contact.

Spike placed kissed along her breasts and up to her throat as he parted
her legs and slowly slid his cock, fully-erect and twitching
impatiently, inside her. She pushed into him, and he began a slow,
steady pace. Imbedding himself completely within her, withdrawing until
only the head of his shaft made contact with her dripping pussy, and
returning to the wet warmth of her womb.

Willow's nails raked along the muscles of Spike's bag, urging him,
begging him, to take her. He nibbled her earlobe and chuckled as she
groaned against his shoulder. His movements quickened, moving harder
and deeper inside her until he felt her walls begin to clamp around
him. She milked the cold seed from him as her body began to rock with
the force of her orgasm, and he growled as he filled her.

He kissed her, smiling against her mouth as her tongue darted between
his lips, inviting his tongue to do battle with hers. Spike lifted her
from the sofa and carried her to the bedroom. He lay down beside her on
the bed, and she curled her sated body around his.

"Clowns," she muttered as his mouth traveled along the flat plane of
her tummy. "Why clowns?"

Spike's hand moved over the edge of the bed and grabbed hold of the
newspaper he'd dropped on the floor during the day. He held it before
her as her eyes scanned the advertisement.

"Wanted: Female, between the ages of 18-24, for short-term wig-making
position. Red hair, or experience in dying, a must. Apply to Clown
Coiffures."

"Wig-making?" she squealed, raising her hand to her head. "They wanted
my hair for a wig?"

"Evil, if you ask me," he grinned.

"Obviously," she giggled.

"You're damned lucky they didn't know this was red, too," he told her,
slipping his fingers along the red curls between her legs. "I'd never
have gotten you away from them."

Willow blushed, and Spike chuckled and kissed her.

"Don't worry. We'll keep it between the two of us. Right about--there,"
he whispered, sliding his shaft inside her. "Okay?"

"Okay," she smiled and pulled his mouth back to hers.

End.

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