Spike knocked on the door a full half hour before he'd promised to come
over to Willow's apartment. She had sounded so rattled over the phone,
he had latched onto the first person he had come across and made quick
work of dinner before racing over to her place.

He followed the redhead into the living room and stopped dead in his
tracks. The room was all but obliterated by dozen of plants--potted
flowers and leafy vegetation of all shapes and sizes. They were
scattered over the chairs and sofa, the tables, the floor.

"Who sent them?" the jealousy in the vampire's voice was thick.

"I don't know," Willow answered.

He took her arm in a bruising grip and turned her to face him,
repeating angrily, "Who sent them?"

"I really don't know! I'm not hiding anything from you, Spike! They
started arriving this morning, and they've kept right on coming up
until an hour ago," she insisted. "The delivery men didn't know who
they're from, and there's no note attached to any of them. It's kind of
frightening, you know? I mean, who? Why?"

He shushed her and pulled her into his arms.

"I was hoping they were from you," she murmured against him.

"A dozen blood-red roses, maybe, but not an entire jungle, pet," he
told her. "If I get my hands around the neck of the bloke who sent
these--"

"Let's just get them out of here," she asked softly.

He nodded and gave her a tight, reassuring squeeze before releasing
her.

"But we're not putting them in my car," he announced with a grin.

She laughed and reached up to place a quick kiss on his lips, "I'm glad
you're here. I knew you'd make me feel better."

His elated gaze followed her as she turned to a potted orchid on the
table beside her. She leaned over to smell its fragrant scent and
gasped as the flower stretched itself upward as if returning the sniff.
She looked around at Spike.

"I just imagined that, didn't I?" she asked hopefully.

"I don't think so, luv," he said slowly.

She turned back to the flower and took another tentative sniff. The
flower leaned forward and brushed its petals across her cheek. Willow
took a quick step backward.

"I'm pretty sure I don't like this," she decided.

Spike opened the front door, "Let's just throw them out onto the yard
and get them out of here. Then, we'll decide what to do with them."

She nodded, and he scooped up a leafy ivy plant. He turned to heave it
outside, and one wiry tendril wrapped itself around his hand and clung
onto him. Spike tugged on it, ripping the plant's roots out of the
potting soil, and the vine uncurled itself and hung lifelessly down. He
threw the plant and the pot out the door.

Suddenly, Willow squealed and dropped one of the many plants she had
plucked up off the sofa.

"It burned me!" she breathed, holding out a reddened wrist.

Spike took her arm and raised it to his mouth, brushing his cold lips
across the burn.

"Plants don't burn," she said, her eyes wide with confusion.

"They don't crawl, either," he added and pointed toward the floor.

Another viney plant had inched its way toward their feet. The tendril
reached up like a long, thin arm and wrapped itself around both Spike's
and Willow's legs, binding them together.

"This is _not_ happening," Willow moaned.

"I hate to drag you back to unreality, but yes, this is happening," he
responded as he reached down and tried to pry the vine loose.

Willow whimpered and clutched at the vampire as the plants that were
scattered about their feet shifted and stretched their long vines
toward them. Spike's eyes shot open as a potted flower on the chair
behind him reached out a leaf and fastened onto his ass.

"Cheeky plant," he growled.

"Cheeky, yeah, that's the right word," Willow couldn't help giggling.

Spike snarled and reached behind him to grab the plant as its stem
attempted to move between his legs.

"Bloody hell!" he shouted. "These damned plants are perverted!"

"Spike?" Willow's voice trembled as another plant on the sofa behind
her curled around her arm and rested a leaf against her breast. "Get
this thing off of me!"

He snarled and snapped the stem off the plant. Stepping on several more
tendrils that were winding their way over his feet, he scooped the
redhead up into his arms. Meanwhile, the plant behind him had reached
around to find the crotch of his jeans. He angrily flung the plant off
of the chair and headed for the door, only to find it blocked by yet
more plants which had snaked their way up the doorposts and across the
opening, effectively blocking their exit.

"Now what do we do?" Willow groaned.

"What kills plants?" he asked.

"I don't know. Poison?" she suggested. "I must have something in the
kitchen, if we can get that far."

"We'll get there," he vowed.

Spike kicked several pots out of his path and carried her into the
kitchen. The plants in the living room rustled ominously as their vines
spread out to follow the vampire and his witch. Willow flung open the
cupboard doors and gathered a bottle of ammonia and two spray bottles
of cleansers. She emptied these into the sink and filled each of them
with the ammonia, then handed one to Spike.

"Think it'll work?" she asked.

"I hope so," he muttered, stepping in front of her to lead the way back
to the door. "What about this?"

He pulled a small fire extinguisher off the wall beside the broom
closet. Turning towards the plants that had crept over the floor, he
blanketed them in the white foam. Instantly, the vines curled up and
withered.

"That works," Willow said happily.

"Come on," he nodded and took her hand.

Armed with the ammonia and the fire extinguisher, they squirted a clear
path to the door. The plants that had blocked their way to the outside
quickly fell away as Spike and Willow doused them heavily. They
scurried outside, and Spike slammed the door on the plants behind them.

Willow took a deep breath, and Spike put his arm around her shoulders
and cuddled her close to him.

"How the hell am I supposed to get back in there?" she wondered.

"You can't. Not tonight, anyway," he answered. "You can stay at my
place."

"But I need clothes," she objected.

"Says who?" he grinned. "On the other hand, I can take a few of these
leaves for you to cover yourself with, if you like."

She looked over at the dead plant he had thrown onto the lawn and shook
her head, "I think I like naked better."

"I couldn't agree more," he chuckled. "Come home with me. You can phone
the slayer in the morning and figure out what to do about the rest of
the plants."

"Okay," she nodded. "I think this has killed any desire I may have had
to get a dozen blood-red roses from you."

"Aw, pet," he murmured. "Don't say that. I'll make sure they're cut and
lifeless."

"Thanks, but no thanks. With my luck, they'd be bearing poisoned
thorns," she grinned. "No flowers, ever. Got it?"

"Got it," he nodded.

End.

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