“Who would want the Order of Taraka to kill us?” Willow asked, confused and scared.
“Pet, we don’t know yet if it’s just one or both of us. Either way, we’ll need to get Ripper here.”
“Yeah, we do. I just don’t understand it.”
“Well, I did hire them a few years ago. I wonder if my contact’s still around.” Spike mused.
“Right then,” Willow said, taking charge of the organisational aspects of anything which resembled research; as she usually did. “You call your … contact and I’ll call Giles.” She took out her cell phone and looked at Spike who had not moved. “Well?” She asked.
“I can’t call him luv, I need to go and see him, if ‘him’ is the right word.”
“Oh. Well, I’ll call Giles. It’s late but he’ll understand, under the circumstances.” She called Giles and asked him to come over. Explaining, briefly, what had happened she also asked him to bring any information on the Order of Taraka that he had available.
Within ten minutes, Giles had arrived. He had obviously broken every speed limit on his way over. As the door was opened to him, he came through it, carrying a large bag of books and asking, “How do you know it was the order?”
Spike threw him the ring. “That’s how.”
Giles nodded as he looked at it. “It’s the Order. What happened; all the details please.” Once they had explained everything that had happened, with Giles chuckling during the explanation of Spike’s apparent clumsiness, he looked seriously at them. “I would say that we have some problems. First is that we don’t know if Willow, or Spike, or both of you were the target or targets. I’m inclined to think that it was either Spike or both of you who were targets, because there was no immediate shot at Willow. Which is what would have happened had she alone been the potential victim.”
Willow nodded in agreement. “I’d come to that conclusion as well, Giles. I didn’t want to say anything until I spoke with you though.” Giles nodded as Willow continued. “What I don’t understand though, is who would want Spike dead, and why? Or both of us for that matter.”
“I know I’ve pissed off a lot of … people in the non-human community by working with the slayer, pet. It could quite simply be that.”
Spike slipped into thought again. “Red, what spell did you cast on the bloke with the crossbow?”
“Oh, a teleport. Why?”
“Did you send him anywhere in particular?”
“No, he could have emerged anywhere. I wasn’t worried. He was trying to hurt you.”
“What do you mean by ‘anywhere’, luv?”
“I mean, I need to focus on the destination when I activate the spell. I didn’t worry about that. So he could be anywhere. Next door, in Chicago, in the middle of Mount Rushmore, twenty thousand feet above the Pacific. Anywhere.”
Giles looked at Willow, then looked at Spike and grinned evilly. “Just never piss her off, old son. The potential results are just too horrible to contemplate.”
Spike tried to glare at Giles, but it was clear that he was amused as well. “So, getting back to the core of the conversation, Ripper, what are we going to do about this?”
“Spike, you mentioned to Willow that you had a contact. Why don’t we talk to this … contact?”
Spike looked at the time. “It’s getting late mate. It’s summer. We won’t be able to get there in time. We’ll have to hold off until tomorrow night.”
“Is there anything else we can do Giles? Anything at all? I don’t like this. It scares me.”
Spike came over to the little redhead and wrapped his arms around her. “Listen pet, we’ve got through far worse things than the Order of Taraka.” He looked over to Giles. “I just had a thought. Do the Order accept payments to stop pursuing a contract?”
“No, it’s against their Code. They see it as dishonourable.”
“Somehow, I didn’t think it would be that easy.” Spike’s tone was bitter as he spoke. “So, what we have to do is to find the contractor and either kill him or convince him to withdraw the contract. That’s just great!”
“Well, I would say that you have at least a few days before the next assassin is dispatched.” Giles observed, trying to see the positive side of things. “It gives us a little time at least to speak to your contact.”
“Wait a minute, when Spike hired them, they sent three against Buffy.” Willow recalled, suddenly worried.
“That was because I arranged for it like that pet. I thought several threats, simultaneously, would be useful against the slayer.”
“Oh. You don’t do things by halves, do you handsome.”
Spike chuckled ruefully. “No. Didn’t help me any though.”
Giles sighed. “Well, we’re at a dead end here. I suppose we should go and see Spike’s contact tomorrow night. If it’s all right with you both, I’ll leave these here and head home to bed.” So saying, Giles left the couple alone.
* * * *
Giles arrived shortly after sunset, to find Willow and Spike waiting for him. Spike was obviously dressed to intimidate, being entirely in black. Willow looked different, he noticed. There was a hardness in her eyes that he had never seen before. She projected a hostile self-confidence which genuinely surprised him. In addition, her clothing was radically different. A black long sleeved tee shirt, a pair of handcuffs on her right wrist like a double bracelet, urban combat fatigue pants and black Doc. Marten boots presented the little redhead in a different, almost frightening, light. Giles stuttered a greeting, too shocked by Willow’s appearance to do more.
“Ready, Ripper?” She asked. There was a harshness about her voice as well that left Giles floored.
“W-Willow? What on earth is … all this about?” He asked, gesturing at her.
She laughed. The same laugh Giles had always known. “I see it’s worked then.” An impish smile danced over her face.
“Worked, what worked?”
“Spike’s idea. He thought that I could help scare people tonight. That is what ‘putting the frighteners on’ means, isn’t it?”
“Er, yes. It does. Is Spike teaching you London slang?”
“Not really, I just let him be himself, and if I don’t understand something, I usually ask. The clothes are mine, but the rest is a glamour, of sorts. Oh, I don’t know where Spike got the handcuffs.”
Spike was grinning at the exchange. “Let’s go, shall we.” Spike said, and led the way to his DeSoto. Giles noticed the sawn off twelve gauge Spike carried under his duster and began to get worried.
Spike drove out towards the Interstate. “Listen up, I don’t want to have to repeat myself. We’re going to a small town called Bitterwater. That’s where my contact is.” He continued to accelerate to a speed which both Giles and Willow found unnerving. “The contact isn’t a human. He--and I use the term ‘he’ advisedly--is a demon of sorts. A Matarral, if you want to be specific.”
“I recall the name. Nothing else though.” Giles interjected.
Spike continued, explaining. “Matarrals are a species of hermaphroditic demons. Most tend to be very androgynous and look almost human. This one is, by their standards, somewhat more macho than a pro wrestler. They’re also tough as nails in a brawl, that’s why I’ve got the shooter. This bugger lives alone, passing as a local. Most of the people up there think he’s a reasonable fella, so we have to be careful not to piss them off either.”
“Why are things never easy?” Willow asked rhetorically as she started to rummage through her bag for some empty crystals. “I can set a truth spell and a will weakening spell in these, but they’re my last two. Do you have any more in stock Giles?”
Giles looked back at her from the passenger seat. “I don’t have the faintest idea, I’ll check and let you know tomorrow.”
“Oh, Red, luv. I forgot to mention that these Matarrals are much more resistant to magic than most demons or people.”
“This just gets better and better,” Giles sighed. “Is there anything other than your bloody sawn off that I can use?”
“Not really. A crossbow would seem just a little outré, mate.”
Sighing, Giles started to think about what else could go wrong. He was rapidly coming to the conclusion that they had jumped into this half cocked.
As they began the climb into the mountains, they started to become reflective. Spike broke the silence. “I’m hoping he’s at home. He’s a lives a little way from the town, so we may be able to get in and out without anyone knowing.”
“And if he’s not?” Giles asked.
“We go and find him. We’re on a tight schedule. We don’t have the time to pissfart about.”
“Great!” Giles and Willow chorused in tones of sarcasm.
They eventually reached a small house, made of wooden planks, about a mile past the town. Spike pulled in and the three got out. Leaving Giles and Willow at the car, Spike walked to the door and knocked. A middle aged woman answered. Spike spoke to her, being as polite and charming as he could. After two or three minutes, he returned to the others. “Well, that was a balls-up. She’s the new owner. She bought the place from a deceased estate last year. My contact died. She didn’t know how.” Spike looked angry and upset. “Oh bugger it all! What else could bloody well go wrong?” He snarled, kicking at the small stones of the gravel driveway.
Dejectedly, the three got back into the black DeSoto and started the return trip to Sunnydale.
* * * *
On their return, Giles immediately drove back to his own apartment, while Willow and Spike collapsed on the sofa. As Willow curled into him, she looked up and asked, “Should we go and ask Willie who the new contact is?”
“That’s both a very good and a very bad idea pet.” Willow looked at him, slightly confused, so he explained his reasoning. “Willie would almost certainly know who the new contact is, but that contact was probably the person who arranged things for whoever is after us. Now, I’d rather they didn’t find out that we know who it is. The element of surprise ‘n’all that. What we need is a stalking horse, someone who can find out from Willie who the contact is, and then tell us.”
Willow nodded in thought. “That’s a bloody good idea,” she said, thinking. “Who shall we…” She was interrupted by a peal of laughter from Spike. “What?”
“You said ‘bloody’!” Spike began to dance around her, chanting like a nine year-old. “You said ‘bloody’. You said ‘bloody’.”
“I did not! Did I? Oh Goddess, I did! This is scarier than anything else that’s happened so far. We’re beginning to talk the same.” Suddenly, Willow began to laugh. Once she had started, she simply couldn’t stop. She lay helpless on the floor, eyes tearing as she convulsed helplessly. Spike watched for a moment before he felt himself succumbing as well. Within a few seconds he was lying, equally helplessly, on the sofa, gasping for unneeded breaths as he tried to compose himself.
Some minutes later, when their mutual laughing fit had eventually subsided, they realised that they needed to continue their conversation. “So,” asked the redhead, “Who can we use as a stalking horse?”
“Ah, that’s the tough part. I have no bleedin’ idea.”
Willow nodded. “Well, lets sleep on it. With a fresh mind, we may be
able to think of someone tomorrow.”
Willow lay in bed, thinking. She was trying to think of someone trustworthy
who could meet the new contact for the Order of Taraka without revealing
who they were reporting back to. She sighed mentally. Anyone they knew
well
enough to make contact was also well enough known to the local demons
as
either one of the Scooby gang or one of their friends. It seemed to
be a
catch 22. She sighed as she rolled over to examine, once again, the
motionless body of her sleeping lover. The question would not stop
pestering the little redhead, but think as she might, she could not
think
of anyone suitable.
Spike became aware of Willow’s ongoing restlessness. He opened his eyes
and
looked at her, to see her gazing at him in return. “What luv?” Spike
asked,
still sleepy.
“Nothing really, I’ve been thinking, racking my brain, trying to come
up
with someone who would make a suitable stalking horse.”
“Ah. Can I at least get functional first?” As he asked, Spike staggered
from the bed, dragged on a pair of shorts and then blearily made
his way
into the kitchen. He began muttering, ostensibly to himself but actually
to
amuse Willow. “Bloody hell, nearly a hundred and fifty years old and
I
still feel like something the cat dragged in when I wake up. You’d
think
I’d get used to it, but no. So much for the theory of evolution. If
it was
true I should used to waking up by now. Darwin was a stupid sod anyway.
Didn’t know his arse from breakfast.”
“Spikey!” Willow called from the bedroom in a singsong voice. She tried
to
smother the giggling fit she had as she called him.
Spike returned to the bedroom, much faster and better coordinated than
when
he had left. “Damn it Red, do I ever call you Willy?”
Willow looked at Spike for a moment and his wordplay suddenly hit her.
“Oh
you!” She yelled as she threw a pillow at him. Spike ducked and grinned
before heading back to the kitchen.
Willow decided that she needed something to help her wake up. Coffee
seemed
a good idea. She still gave thanks to the Goddess on a regular that
she had
outgrown her teenage hypersensitivity to caffeine. Realising that she
would
now need to make it herself, she rolled out of bed. She wandered, still
slightly disoriented, into the kitchen. She saw Spike loading the microwave
with his breakfast as he scratched himself absent-mindedly. She stood
and
watched, absorbed by his unconscious grace and his sheer physical beauty.
Dressed as he was, in only a pair of shorts she could drink in the
image of
his body without interference.
Spike felt Willow’s eyes lingering on him as he was warming his blood.
He
turned, to look at her, and saw her lost in thought. “What’re you thinking
pet?”
“Huh?” Spike’s question jolted Willow out of her daydream, but not to
full
consciousness. “I was wondering how I got to be so lucky.”
Spike sighed as he heard the confusion and self-doubt in Willow’s voice.
He
also thought back to the discussion about vampires of a week previously
and
remembered what he thought he had detected. If he had not been so deeply
focused at the time, he would have checked then. Now seemed an equally
appropriate time though. “Red, if you’re going to keep flogging yourself
like this, the least you could do is ask me to do it for you.”
Willow looked at him blankly. “What?”
Spike chuckled as he clarified things for his petite lover. “If you
want to
be punish yourself for being with me, ask me to do it instead. I’ll
give
you a damn good spanking.”
Willow felt an immediate rush of desire hit her as Spike spoke. <The
idea
of being bent over his knee … I am sick. Oh Goddess!>
Spike immediately detected the surge of the redhead’s arousal. He chuckled
to himself as he did so. <This is just getting better and better.
No need
to push things though. It’s a natural part of who she is.>
Spike looked at Willow as her face ran a gamut of emotions from
embarrassment to arousal, desire and eventually self-loathing. “Red,
love,
what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Well, another attack of … Can we change the subject, please?”
“No pet, I don’t think so, not this time. Come and sit down.” Spike
led an
unresisting Willow to the sofa and pulled her onto his lap. “Now, what
upset you so much?” He asked gently.
“This is just so embarrassing!”
“What is luv? Just take your time, talk slowly, remember the breathing thing.”
“Promise not to hate me?” Willow’s voice was plaintive, almost scared
as
she asked.
Spike looked into her eyes, fixing her with his gaze. She was as capable
of
moving as a rabbit in a spotlight when he spoke. “Nothing you could
say
would make me hate you, little one.” His voice caressed her just as
sensually as his hand would. “Now luv, just start at the beginning,
and
when you get to the end, stop.”
Willow nodded and gulped. Drawing breath, she began. “A couple of years
ago
… oh Lady, a couple of years ago, Anya and Xander mentioned something
about
… spanking.” Willow flushed a beet red. Drawing in a shaky breath,
she
continued. “The idea sort of … intrigued me. E-e-excited me. When you
mentioned it just now …” Willow’s face remained as red as before, but
she
also looked down, ashamed of what she had just admitted.
“Is it really surprising luv?” Spike asked her. “Think for a moment
about
how you used to react to your parents’ attempts at discipline. This
comes
from the same place. I know that at the moment you must feel like a
freak.
You aren’t though.” Spike reached out to gently lift her chin and he
kissed
her, very softly, on the lips. “Remember, this was always part of who
you
are. It was there before you told me. You haven’t changed. You’re still
the
Willow I fell in love with.”
“B-b-but I’m a pervert. I’m disgusting.” Willow’s shell of self-esteem
shattered again as she tried to understand why Spike could still possibly
care for her.
“Okay pet, now listen to me. Can you trust me until sunset? Can you
accept
that I love you until then?” Willow nodded, mute from fear. “At sunset,
we’ll go shopping. To a bookstore, and I’ll buy you a present or two.
Deal?” Once again, Willow could only nod.
* * * *
As sunset neared, Spike and Willow got ready to go shopping. As they
were
about to leave, the telephone rang. Willow picked up the handset “Hello?”
“Willow? It’s Giles here.”
The little witch giggled slightly. “I can tell it’s you by your accent,
Giles. What can I do for you?”
“I’ve got a potential … errr … recruit for us to use. Can you come around?”
Willow covered the handset as she asked Spike, “How long for the shopping?”
“Dunno, pet, an hour maybe?”
“Giles, can we get there at around, say, ten or so?”
“That should be … acceptable.” Giles answered. He kept his voice even
and
calm. He had really wanted them immediately, though.
Spike and Willow drove off, heading for the shopping precincts. After
parking, they walked towards some of the local bookshops. After several
false starts, they reached the one shop Spike was seeking; it was gloomier
and less frequented than most. Leading her to the back of the store,
he
looked at the category signs hanging over the shelves.
Willow was surprised when he made a beeline for the back of the shop,
Spike
moved quickly, almost dragging her as he hurried towards the shelves.
When
he got to the ‘Relationship’ section, he started scanning through
the
books at an astonishing rate. He moved with almost preternatural speed,
flicking books one after the other as he thumbed through the stock.
He
eventually ended up with three books on the floor between his feet.
Willow
watched, trying in vain to see the titles of the books which he looked
through at such speed.
He picked them up and immediately headed towards the checkout. “Hold
on,
Mister!” Willow snapped.
“What pet?” Spike looked confused.
“This is a bookshop, isn’t it?” Willow’s sarcasm was self-evident.
“Uh … yeah?” Spike was now utterly baffled, he had moved well past confused.
“So, the very least you could do is let me look around!”
“Huh?”
Willow sighed. Sometimes people were just so obtuse. “I want to see
if
there’s anything I want to read in here Spike. You know, that thing
I do
with the little paper things while you’re watching TV.”
Spike looked at her and grinned. “You’re a cheeky brat, aren’t ya.”
Willow responded with what she considered an appropriate level of maturity.
She stuck out her tongue and flounced off to the science fiction section.
Spike’s grin broadened. “Red, you wave your bum at me like that again
and
I’ll spank it for ya!” He called out, making sure that she heard.
Willow blushed once again. She immediately took a deep and abiding interest
in the bookshelf in front of her. Unfortunately, it was a shelf on
Accountancy, and she immediately realised that her standing there,
looking
at the books in that shelf was about as believable as Cordelia ever
learning tact.
She moved on to the science fiction section and began browsing, looking
for
something new, but by an author she liked. Spike came up behind her,
humming softly but off key. She turned and looked at him. “Can you
hold on,
I want to get this,” she said, waving a book under his nose as they
walked
towards the checkout together..
“Sure luv. I’ll just drift out and have a fag.” The shop assistant looked
strangely at Spike, but Willow merely nodded.
She paid for her book and joined him. They walked back to the car with
his
arm over her shoulder, and with Willow leaning slightly in towards
Spike.
As they entered the car park, she looked up at him and asked “What
books
did you buy?”
“Wait until we get home pet. We need to get to Giles’ first.”
“All right.” Willow wasn’t particularly concerned about the books Spike
had
bought, it was just idle curiosity, so she turned on the radio, searching
for a tolerable station. <He forgot my present though.> She sighed
mentally.
They parked outside Giles’ and immediately went inside. “Sorry we couldn’t
get here earlier, Giles … and what is that bastard doing here?” Willow’s
unaccustomed swearing halted the conversation as effectively as a runaway
goods train.
The bastard in question smiled coldly at Willow. As Spike entered behind
the little redhead he stood and offered his hand “Ethan Rayne.”
“I’ve heard about you.” Spike said contemptuously to the Englishman.
“Cursed chocolate, Fyarl demons. Imaginative but giddy. Another bloody
poof, probably went to a Public School, too.”
Giles looked up, offended. “He went to the same bloody school I did, Rugby.”
“QED.” Spike smirked back at Giles.
“So, Giles,” Willow asked coldly, “Why is this … individual here?”
Giles looked up at her as though she had missed the obvious. Grinning,
he
said, “Willow Rosenberg, please meet Stalking Horse of the Fukawe.”
Giles smiled mirthlessly. “When the Initiative was shut down he was
released, into the Nevada deserts. I suppose they either expected the
desert to kill him, or they just didn’t care.”
“I can understand that, Giles.” Willow’s voice still cold and ruthless.
“I
wouldn’t care myself. Not after what he’s put us all through.” Giles
was
shocked at Willow. He had never seen her like this about a human being,
so
uncaring, so … malignant. “I can see your face Giles, I’m sorry, but
if you
recall, he killed me that Halloween when everyone turned into their
costumes. If you hadn’t broken the spell, I’d still be a ghost. I really
don’t like him. And as for trusting him, well …”
“Red has a good point, Watcher.” Spike interposed. “I’d trust this bugger,”
he indicated Ethan, “as far as I could throw an elephant. And what
guarantee do we have that he’ll do what we want?”
Giles smiled again, and once more the smile was cold. “Ethan will do
precisely what I ask him to because … well, I have his soul trapped
in this
jar.” Giles held up an ancient Egyptian urn. “And, if it’s released
without
the proper ritual, Ethan will die.”
“Which only leaves one question, mate.” Spike spoke up. “How did you find him?”
Giles smiled. “I’ve been hunting him for months. Since the Initiative
shut
down, I assumed that Ethan would have …”
“Officially shut down.” Spike interjected. “Do you really think that
they
would just go away, Watcher?”
Giles sighed and nodded. “True, Spike. Very true. Anyway, I assumed
that
Ethan would have been released then. I employed a private investigator
to
find him and bring the toerag to me; because frankly, I wanted to get
him
back to England and out of our hair. The Investigator arrived with
him
earlier today. The timing couldn’t have been better. With Ethan restrained
I performed the soul catcher spell, and here we are.”
Willow nodded slowly. “I have to agree, Giles. He’s perfect for our
needs,
with one small exception. How do we know he won’t arrange for the Order
to
kill us?”
Giles grinned back at Willow. “It’s very simple. I have these for you,
by
the way.” He took out a small paper bag and handed it to the little
redhead. She looked inside to see perhaps fifty of the small crystals
she
used to lock her spells in.
Willow smiled up at Giles. “Thank you, Giles. I really do need these.”
“As I was saying,” Giles continued, “Ethan reports in by ‘phone
each day,
and when he finds out who wants the two of you, or just Spike, dead,
he
comes back here. We listen to him while the effects of a truth spell
and a
will weakening spell are operating.”
“Er, Ripper …” Spike interjected once again. “Was it for the best to
allow
this sod to hear what we’re planning?”
Giles looked up at Spike. “He would have to know the details anyway,
and
what pressures we can bring to bear to make him behave. Otherwise he’d
try
something … foolish.”
The blond nodded, thinking. Suddenly, he moved over to Ethan and lashed
out
a fist, connecting hard with the renegade warlock’s chest. As he did
so, he
doubled over, screaming and holding his head. The chip had functioned.
He
stood groggily and grinned at Willow. “Well, pet, there’s a piece of
confirmation for your theory.”
Willow looked up at Spike, and slowly grinned. She should have realised
that he hadn’t forgotten her experiment, even if he acted during the
process as if it was all a game. Smiling, she said “Thank you, handsome.
It
does help. It confirms our supposition very nicely indeed.” Walking
to him,
she reached up to take his head in her hands, and as she massaged his
temples, kissed him gently.
“How very cloying. The witch and the vampire. All lovey-dovey. Ripper.
Bring me a bucket, I think I’m going to puke.” Ethan’ sarcastic, spiteful
tone cut through the room like a knife.
Giles, walked over and casually took hold of Ethan’s ear and twisted,
hard.
“Behave, and don’t be rude to my friends, or I may decide to just break
that jar.” Giles let go and walked back to his desk.
“Let’s not get all aggro about this Ripper.”
Willow looked up at Giles, and said, “One day, I intend to find out
precisely why you were called that.”
Ethan immediately volunteered. “Oh, it’s because he used …” Ethan’s
sudden
desire to share information rapidly grew to a halt as Giles handled
the
soul jar.
Willow looked up as he had begun to respond, and when he stopped looked
over to Giles. “You’re no fun,” She pouted at the Watcher as she spoke.
“Entertaining though this is,” Spike spoke up, “what about laying out
the
details for chummy here so Red and I can go home.”
“Yes, I suppose now is as good a time as any.” Giles took his glasses
off,
pinching the bridge of his nose, in his habitual manner. “Ethan, you
know
we want you to do something for us.” Ethan nodded as Giles continued.
“We
want you to find the local contact for the Order of Taraka. When you
do,
let us know who it is. Once you have done this, I want you to try and
get
close to them. I’ll give you further instructions then. Just a reminder;
should any of my friends suddenly die during this process, I’ll break
the
jar instantly.”
“Once I’m done, I’ll want some money and a ticket home, Ripper.”
“Ethan, if I were you, I’d just be content to keep my life. But I will
send
you back home. I don’t want you in this country any more than you would
want to stay here.”
“How very … generous of you Ripper. And what guarantees do I have that
you
wont just break the jar when I’m done?”
Willow interjected, harshly. “You don’t. Now deal with it or become
a snack
for my man here.”
All three men looked at Willow, unbelievingly. None of them had ever
seen
her this ruthless. Why, they wondered, did Ethan bring this out in
her.
Spike and Giles also knew that asking her would get them nowhere. Neither
had ever seen such a ferocious resolve face.
“Do you want us for anything else Giles?” Willow asked. It was obvious
from
her voice, posture and demeanour that she wanted nothing more than
to get
as far way from Ethan Rayne as she possibly could.
“Uh … no, I don’t think so Willow, why don’t you and Spike head off
home.”
Giles tried to make his voice sound as everyday as possible, but he
just
failed. Willow detected the quaver and lifted an interrogatory eyebrow,
then she smiled, realising what he was saying, took Spike by the hand
and left.
* * * *
Driving home, Spike grinned at the delicate little redhead next to him.
“Your present is in the books I bought, luv. We’ll have a look at ‘em
when
we get home.”
Willow smiled as she realised that he had not forgotten after all. She
leant in and hugged him fiercely. “Thanks, Spike.” It was all she said,
but
it was more than he needed.
When they arrived at their home, Spike went to make coffee for them
both.
He had a feeling that they might need it once Willow saw what he had
bought
her.
Willow wasted no time in opening her present once they got inside. While
Spike made coffee and, unbeknownst to her, watched her open the bag.
She
had not even got to the sofa, but was sitting cross-legged on the floor
as
she began to look at the book titles. ‘SM-101’, ‘Screw the Roses, Send
me
the Thorns’ and ‘Different Loving’. <What on earth are all these?>
Willow
wondered. She opened the first book, and read the chapter headings,
as she
did, she started to blush furiously. “Spike!” She yelled. “Get your
cute
little butt in here. Now!”
Spike called back, “Wait a second luv, I’m just pouring the coffee.”
Spike returned with three mugs, two for him, and one for her. “Would
you
rather I ate in the kitchen pet?” he asked, crouching down beside her.
“No. I’m used to it, and when you feed, you look rather yummy, from
the
nose up.” Willow looked down as she mentioned it, suddenly horribly
aware
that she may have either insulted him, or demanded sex or the Goddess
only
knew what, she resolved to learn more about vampiric etiquette.
Spike finished drinking his blood, wiped his mouth carefully and then
took
a mouthful of coffee. He leant over and kissed her on the forehead.
“You
say the sweetest things, little one.”
Willow moved over slightly so that she was almost in his lap. “What
are
these books?” She asked, both curious and slightly frightened at what
the
answer was likely to be.
Spike pulled her in, very tightly. “They’re books that can teach you
that
you aren’t the only person in the world with feelings like yours, that
it’s
not a sickness or perversion. Reading them will help you understand
how
your desires formed and also give you some sane guidelines if you decide
you want to experiment. Just remember that I love you, as you are.
You
don’t have to do anything in here just to please me. Yes, I know most
of
this stuff, Angelus was very thorough and I enjoy it, with the right
person. But I’d rather have you without experiments than lose you because
I
insisted.”
Willow looked up at him, somewhat confused. “I don’t understand. You
enjoy … these things but you would hold back to make me happy?
Why?”
“Because that’s the nature of love, pet. Anyone in love tries to make
their
partner, or partners, happy.”
“Partners?”
“Love doesn’t have to be monogamous pet. Before Angelus got his soul
handed
to him on a platter, I loved both he and Drusilla. I tried to make
them
both happy. Of course, Angelus only loved Angelus, so it wasn’t the
same as
with you and I.”
Willow giggled and curled even closer into her lover. “I can see that
from
when he showed up here. All ego and obsession. Now, show me what you
like
in these books. I want to understand you too.”
Spike chuckled as he complied, idly flicking through pages. Willow stopped
him when they reached a photograph of a woman wearing a wide leather
collar. “Can I have one of those?”
Spike looked at her and whispered softly into her ear, “Pet, you really
should read the text first.”
Willow nodded and thumbed back to the beginning of the chapter. She
began
to read and almost immediately began blushing. Spike could smell her
arousal growing as she read. <She really does want this.> The thought
flowed through his mind.
The little redhead looked up at the blond and said in a dreamy tone,
“It
sounds wonderful. The chance to be able to let go, to have no
responsibilities, even for a short while. To know that I wouldn’t have
to
make decisions and just react. I don’t know that I would want that
all the
time though.” She looked up at him, worried. “Would that be all right?”
Spike laughed, pulled her close and opened one of the other books. He
quickly found the section he wanted and gave it to her to read. It
was
titled ‘Negotiation.’ “You want more coffee luv?” Willow nodded absently
as
she began to read.
As he returned, she looked up at him, eyes full of questions. “This
check
list they talk about. What’s that?”
Spike smiled. “It’s a list of … different … things that are included
under
the umbrella term of BDSM. You use the check list to indicate which
ones
you like and which ones you don’t like.”
“Ah.” Willow hardly acknowledged Spike’s input before she returned to
reading. The blond vampire grinned as he realised that his lover would
be
absorbed for the rest of the night. He chuckled quietly and went to
find a
film to put into the video. Soon, he was lost in the worlds of ‘Babylon
5’
and didn’t even hear Willow come over to him.
The little redhead walked over and sat at Spike’s feet, her head leaning
back between his knees. She was curious about something, and was testing
a
theory. The vampire started to stroke her hair, and Willow sensed it
was
quite unconscious. His fingers repeatedly trailed through her red locks,
caressing her scalp and creating a marvellously soothing effect on
her. She
relaxed even further, her head beginning to loll back into his lap.
She
felt like purring as Spikes ministrations continued. Eventually, as
the
tape ended, Spike looked down at her and grinned. “You feel all right,
pet?” He asked.
Willow grinned up at him and answered. “I’ve never felt better, Sir.”
The telephone rang, jolting both Willow and Spike from their respective
books. Willow, being nearest, answered. It was Giles, asking if they
could
come over. They immediately headed out to see the Watcher.
On their arrival, they saw that Xander, Anya and Cordelia had got there
before them. As soon as they entered, Giles spoke. “Good, sit down.
Now
that you’re all here I have some news for you. Buffy is being released,
in
a week’s time. Unless she has a relapse.”
The expressions varied amongst the group. Willow, Xander and Cordelia
hopeful, even happy, Spike disgruntled and Anya non-committal. Willow
raised the question that everyone had to be asking themselves. “Does
she
know about Spike and I?”
“Ah,” Giles said, sadly, “she seems to have convinced herself that it
was
one of her delusions. She’s in complete denial about your relationship,”
Willow nodded sadly. “What about everything else though?”
Giles smiled somewhat ruefully. “No one there was able to diagnose her
properly until a former combat psychiatrist examined her. He diagnosed
post
traumatic stress disorder and combat fatigue. He came to see me privately
and asked if she had been part of the Initiative. Anyway, one thing
led to
another and he took her treatment over. Since he started working with
Buffy, she’s come on in leaps and bounds. Except her denial about Willow
and Spike. He would like to speak to the pair of you, privately. Could
we
arrange that?” Giles took a sip of tea, and looked at them.
“I don’t have a problem,” Willow answered.
Spike looked more skeptical, however. “Is this bloke part of the Initiative?”
“To be honest, Spike, I don’t know. He certainly knows of it, at the
very
least. And I quite understand your reservations. If, however, we could
include some safeguards for you, would that make you more willing to
speak
with him?”
Spike thought and decided that, if he was going to meet anyone who may
have
contact with the bastards who had chipped him, he was going to be in
control. “I may … under the right circumstances.”
“I can tell you now Spike, he’s not a surgeon, he won’t be able to remove
the chip. Whether or not he’s in the Initiative.”
Spike looked levelly at Giles. “I do know the bleedin’ difference, Watcher.
I just expect the little shits to try and grab me again. We would need
to
make any such meeting safe, for Willow as well as me.” He turned to
look at
Willow. “Is that clear, little one?”
“Yes,” Willow answered meekly. No one else noticed Spike raise his scarred
eyebrow at her, the sudden look of both apprehension and anticipation
that
crossed her face.
“Or, Ripper, he can talk to us on the phone if he wants.”
“Let me speak to him again, and find out what he thinks. I’m inclined
to
believe that, if he insists on meeting you personally, Spike, there
may be
a problem.”
The blond vampire nodded. He was torn. He admitted to himself that he
was
terrified of being recaptured; but at the same time he did want to
help
Willow, which meant trying to help the slayer. Also, speaking to someone
who knew of the Initiative, and therefore also accepted the existence
of
demons, may be interesting.
“All right Ripper, mate. Call him and let me know what he says.”
* * * *
Driving home, Spike looked at Willow. He chuckled, a low, deep tone
in the
back of his throat. “So, little one, any second thoughts about what
you’ve
read?”
Willow went pale, and began to chew on her bottom lip. She nodded. She
looked up at Spike and tried to explain, “There are things that scare
me,
that make me have second thoughts, but the idea excites me at the same
time. I want this, Spike, I really do. I’m just scared of what it might
lead to. And as for some of the things on that checklist. Ewwwwwwwww.
Goddess Spike, I had to look some of them up in a medical dictionary!”
Spike smiled encouragingly at her and pulled her close to him into an
affectionately rough embrace. “When we get home, pet, we’ll talk about
this. At length.” Willow looked up at him again and nodded, before
relaxing
into his embrace.
After getting home, the lovers walked slowly inside, almost drifting.
Their
hips brushed together repeatedly as they walked. Once inside, Spike
immediately headed to the kitchen to make coffee, and also prepare
himself
a meal. Willow continued into the lounge and flopped into the sofa,
immediately picking up ‘Screw the Roses’ and started to idly flick
through it.
Once Spike had prepared the coffee, and his blood, he came into the
lounge,
handed Willow a cup and sat next to her. “Time for a talk, pet.” Willow
looked at him, and nodded, apprehensively.
Spike took a breath and began. “One thing that these books never mention,
luv, is that what you’re thinking about doing is rather like Pandora’s
box.
Once you open it, you can never, truly, go back. Yes, you can pretend,
even
enjoy, but once you start to experiment it becomes part of you, in
a way
that it never can just from fantasising. In that sense, any decision
you
make is final.”
Willow nodded. “It is? Why can’t I just say ‘I don’t like this’ and go back?”
Spike smiled. He loved her logical mind. Apart from anything else it
was
wonderfully refreshing after a century of living with insanity. “It’s
not
that simple pet. Even if the experience itself isn’t pleasurable, the
act
of giving over the control, granting your partner that power, remains.
You
start to ask yourself questions like ‘if he had done X instead, would
that
have been better?’ ‘If I had relaxed more, would it have been as bad?’
and
so on. Eventually, you’ll try again. It’s because it’s part of who
you are.
There’s a rightness about it that you can’t deny. The only way to avoid
it
is to never start.”
“So why do some people feel like this, like the way I do?”
Spike chuckled as he embraced her. “Red, luv, if I knew the answer to
that,
I’d be on the talk show circuit. From what I’ve read, it seems that
there
is some relationship between childhood neglect or abuse on the one
hand and
… a kinky orientation on the other. It’s not always the case though.
There
are lots of abuse survivors who’re as vanilla as they come, and there
are
kinksters who had perfectly wonderful childhoods too. If anything,
I think
it’s partly nature and partly nurture. I do think, though, that an
abusive
childhood is more likely to bring out any underlying inclinations though.”
Willow nodded, awed partly by the sheer length of Spike’s statement
and
partly by the fact that he was revealing sides of himself that no-one
had
ever seen. She was certain that he wouldn’t have spoken like that with
either Angelus or Drusilla, and who else was there. The thought of
a brain
like his, being essentially trapped and unable to communicate with
its
intellectual peers for over a century made her shudder, amazed that
he was
still sane.
Spike smiled encouragingly at her. “It’s your decision pet, no-one else’s.
What do you want?”
Willow looked up and asked, tremblingly, “I want you to teach me Spike.
Teach me to be honest with myself. Teach me who I am.” The quiet certainty
surprised Spike.
“Are you sure luv, really sure? Remember what I said about Pandora’s Box.”
Willow nodded and answered, in a small but determined voice. “I’m sure.”
Spike simply nodded. “Well pet, do you want to start now, or have a
couple
of days to think?”
“Now.” Willow gulped, her heart suddenly accelerating.
All right then pet, take your clothes off.” Willow looked at Spike,
confused. “It’s not that hard an instruction is it pet?”
“N-n-no.” Willow looked down and started to slowly unbutton her blouse.
The
next thing she felt was Spike’s finger tilting her chin up, so she
was
looking ahead, at him.
“This is your first instruction, your first order, if you will. You
are
not, under any circumstances, to look down because you feel ashamed
or
belittled. I know it’s going to be hard for you, but it’s very important.”
Willow nodded and asked, “What if I disobey?”
“Well pet, you’ll be punished. We’ll have to find out what you do and
don’t
like, of course, because if spankings turn you on, you aren’t going
to be
punished with one.”
Willow pouted.
Spike laughed as he said, “Keep undressing little one. I want you naked.
Do
you understand.”
“Yes Sir.” Willow looked a little shocked. The honorific had come unbidden
to her lips. She continued to remove her clothes, a little
self-consciously, as Spike watched, apparently impassive, but she could
see
the stirrings of his arousal inside his jeans. When she had finished,
and
stood before him, naked, she asked, “Now what, Sir?” Once again, the
honorific had emerged without her needing to think about it.
“Simple pet, come and sit here, at my feet,” Spike smiled as she did
as
instructed. He noticed that, when she moved towards him and sat, there
was
an unconscious grace that simply wasn’t there normally. It was as if,
with
the load of decision making removed from her shoulders, she was suddenly
in
touch with her sensuality in a way she had never been before.
“We’ll just spend a normal night, pet, watch some telly and then go
to bed.
However, you may not dress or leave the room without my permission.
Do you
understand? I also expect you to ask any questions that may occur to
you,
on whatever topic. Is that also clear?”
Willow looked up at Spike, nodding as she once again said, “Yes, Sir.”
She
found that, as the television was turned on and they relaxed into their
normal behaviourother than the obvious difference of her being nakedshe
started to feel strangely lightheaded, as if she were drifting slightly.
She found it surprisingly easy to relax, resting her head on his thigh
as
they watched an old Film Noir classic together.
During one of the advertising breaks, she looked up and asked “Spike,
why
am I feeling sort of … floaty, drifty?”
“You’re just beginning to feel what sub-space is like, pet. You’re just
touching the edges a little. You wouldn’t have noticed yet, but you’re
aroused as well.” Willow looked surprised at that statement. Spike
just
chuckled and said “Check, pet. You’ll see I’m not fibbing.”
Willow blushed as she very self-consciously lowered a finger to her
nipple.
It was erect. <That proves nothing, I could be just slightly chilled.>
She
thought to herself. Flushing a beet red, all the way to the top of
her
breasts, she lowered her hand, to run it through her pubic hair cautiously.
<Goddess, I’m drenched, and I didn’t even feel it!>
Willow looked up, shocked. “How on earth did that happen?”
Spike just smiled at her. “Because you feel right, you’re more at peace
now
than you have been for a long time. By the way pet, would you do some
more
coffee?”
Willow found herself standing automatically, which surprised her. She
walked to the kitchen to pour the coffee and she suddenly realised
that she
hadn’t been in even slightly self-conscious about her nudity. Surprised,
she wondered why she had appeared to change so quickly. When she returned
with coffee for them both, she resumed her seat at Spike’s feet and
asked, “Why am I so calm about being naked, when you’re still
fully dressed?”
“Let me answer that question with a question, pet. Would you feel
comfortable if I were anyone else?”
“No!” Willow squawked indignantly, horrified by the very thought.
“What about when you were with wolf-boy? Or Tara?”
“No,” Willow once again confirmed, although much more calmly.
“In other words, luv, it feels right between you and I; you and I alone.
Is
that right?”
Willow nodded, and began to drop her head. Recalling Spike’s instruction
at
the last moment, she jerked her head back up quickly. He chuckled.
“Excellent, little one. You deserve a little reward. Come here.”
Willow rose and moved closer to him, smiling shyly. She was unsure why
the
words of praise had effected her so much more profoundly than ever
before.
As she moved in, Spike suddenly pulled her into a tight embrace and
looked
at her. “Ready for your reward, pet?” In response to Willow’s nod,
he slid
a hand between her thighs, marvelling at her wetness. He gently parted
her
lips, teasing them with his fingers as he sought her clitoris, finding
it,
he began teasing and stroking until the little redhead was panting
and on
the edge of orgasm. Then he stopped. He fixed her eyes with his and
questioned her. “What do you say little one?”
Willow slowly refocused on Spike, away from the sensations that were
still
threatening to engulf her. “Huh?”
“Do you want to cum, pet?” There was a mischievous grin on Spike’s face
as
he asked.
“Ohhhhhhhh yesssssssssssss” Willow moaned and hissed at Spike.
“Well, pet, what do you say?”
“Please?” Willow whimpered as Spike continued to tease her to the edge,
only to pull back at the last moment.
“Almost right, little one, try again.”
“Please Sir? Please may I cum?” Willow was beginning to get both frantic
and frustrated as she began to plead, to beg with Spike.
“That’s it, pet. You have to ask permission.” Spike grinned wickedly
as he
suddenly tweaked her clit, hard. Twisting her hard nub between forefinger
and thumb pushed the aroused redhead over the edge, she keened in pleasure
as her orgasm rolled over her in waves. Willow shuddered and cried
as she
hit peaks she had never experienced before. As the crescendo of pleasure
ebbed, Spike let her slump, exhausted to the floor.
The blond looked down at Willow, and drank in every image he could of
her.
Her body heaving as she gasped for air, the flush that ran from her
neck to
her abdomen, the slick moisture of her arousal shining on her thighs.
He
slipped off the chair to sit next to her and whispered in her ear “Was
it
good, luv?”
“Uh-huh.” Willow managed to groan at him as Spike bent and effortlessly
lifted her from the floor.
“Who do you belong to, little one?” He asked as he carried her into
the
bedroom.
“You, Sir.” She murmured, happier than she had ever felt before.
Once again, everyone was gathered at Giles’ shop to discuss new developments. It seemed to Giles that the only times they gathered together now were for ‘business’. With Spike and Willow involved; plus the typical behaviour of Anya and Xander, it left very little time for socialising.
He looked at the positive side, he had spent some evenings with Cordelia, still trying to track down the reasons for the unprecedented low in Hellmouth activity. He had been most pleasantly surprised. Although she couldn’t hack like Willow, she knew her way around a computer and was adept at getting very obscure information from legal on-line sources. She was also very efficient at the more mundane pen and paper research that was still the majority of the work that they did. Although not as gifted as Willow, Cordelia was, from Giles point of view, a better assistant. She was more focused and tended not to drift off into theoretical tangents or get involved with magical practices. He had not, as yet, personally experienced one of her visions, but he believed that, overall the visions would be beneficial to the group.
Giles cleared his throat and tried to get everyone’s attention. “Now, I’ve got some news for all of you, and it effects all of you directly, in one way or another. Firstly, Ethan has discovered some information, but not the name of the new contact for the Order here in Sunnydale, but he hasn’t located her as yet.” Giles immediately stopped as the hubbub rose around him. “Please, can we just finish this, and then I’ll give you what answers I have.”
The agitation eased as Giles drew breath to continue. “Next,” he said, looking at his notes. “Willow and Spike, Doctor Michael McKeon, Buffy’s psychiatrist, would much rather speak to you in person. He did, however, say that any location and time that you chose would be acceptable. So I’m still unsure of his connection, if any, to the Initiative, and his personal agenda, if he has one, is still murky. Lastly, Cordelia. Angel called and said, very bluntly, that if you didn’t return to work, you wouldn’t have a job anymore.”
Into the stunned silence that followed Giles’ last announcement came Cordelia’s voice, flat and ruthless. “Well, screw him and the horse he rode in on. He can take his damn job and ram it right up his undead ass!” So saying, she walked to the phone, took the handset and rang.
“Angel Investigations. We help the hopeless.” Angel’s voice came through the receiver.
“No, you don’t,” Cordelia snapped. “You help those you consider ‘worthy’. Angel, you can take your job and stick it where the moon doesn’t glow.” She hung up immediately.
Five sets of eyes looked at her. None of them had ever heard her speak so coldly, even during her tenure as Queen Bitch of Sunnydale High. Then Spike started to laugh. “Where the moon doesn’t glow? That’s a bloody gem!” Spike wheezed out between gasps of air. Cordelia smiled, even preened under the compliment.
“Can I suggest we all get something to drink before we go any further.” Willow suggested. She wanted a little time to absorb at that had happened.
“A very good idea, Willow,” Giles said as he encouraged everyone to follow Willow’s suggestion and relax. He went to make a pot of tea, and Willow decided to make coffee and also prepare blood for Spike. Anya fished out sodas for both Xander and her while Spike stepped outside to smoke.
Willow finished heating blood for Spike before he finished his cigarette. She had a mildly naughty thought and took the blood out to him. Aware that none of the others could see her, she walked toward Spike, hips swinging exaggeratedly. “Your drink, Sir,” Willow murmured, looking up at Spike, a wicked twinkle in her eyes.
Spike grinned and decided to play along. “Thank you, little one,” he murmured and as he did so, also pulled her into a deep and very dominating kiss. His tongue drove deep into her mouth, forcing its way past her lips and teeth. As he broke the kiss, Willow looked up, stunned. He grinned wickedly and said. “There’s more than one way to claim someone, pet.” Willow laughed as she reached up to hug her lover, the one person who was rapidly becoming the centre of her universe. They walked back inside, hand in hand.
“Right, now that we’re all together,” Giles tried to pick up from where he had left off earlier, “what we need to do is to discuss two issues, first and more importantly is meeting this Dr McKeon.”
“I’ve been thinking about that, Ripper. If he is in the Initiative, then there’s no safe way to meet, even a cell phone can be traced. If he isn’t, well, it doesn’t matter where we meet. So, what I’m thinking is … Willie’s place. On a Friday night, it’ll be packed and if the Initiative does break in, they’ll have their work cut out for them. Make it for eleven that night, and don’t call him with the details before seven.”
Xander looked over at Spike. “But isn’t Willie’s full of vampires and demons?”
Anya slapped Xander. “That’s the whole point Xander. If the initiative do raid Willie’s to get to Spike, they’ll have to go through the majority of Sunnydale’s remaining demons and vamps to get to him.” She looked at him and shook her head.
Willow also spoke up. “I would suggest that not all of us go, perhaps just Spike, Giles and myself. What I would like two things. First, Cordelia, you’re the fastest driver, can you be waiting in Giles’ car as a getaway driver in case we need it? Also, I’d like to bug the conversation. Does anyone have any ideas?”
“Well, I can drive, but I don’t want to be in that car alone outside Willie’s.” Cordelia stated sensibly.
“The car’s too light.” Spike put in. “We need a van, something solid that can take a few hits if it needs to.”
“Does anyone have a van?” Giles asked. He shook his head at the chorus of negative responses. “Bugger it. What do we do then?” He asked, exasperated.
“Leave that for a moment.” Spike said. “Let’s look at the other part of Red’s idea. Bugging. If he’s in the Initiative, then he’ll be carrying all sorts of high tech equipment to jam bugs and things, so, lets go low tech instead and one of us can carry a pocket cassette recorder. I know that there’s a chance that the detectors will pick it up, but it’s a better bet than anything else.”
Willow looked at Spike, surprised. She had known, at least intellectually, that he was clever, cunning and mentally deft, but this surprised her. His approach was innovative and creative. She liked that. She did wish that they had actually got around to starting her fighting training, but the other parts of life were just so much fun.
“Watcher,” Spike began to speak again, “do you have a shooter?”
Giles looked at Spike, surprised. “What kind?”
“A handgun, something simple like a revolver.”
“Well,” Giles began dubiously, “there is my father’s old Webley, but it hasn’t been cleaned, let alone used, in years.”
Spike rolled his eyes, but also knew there was no chance of anything better, with California’s gun laws. “All right, ammo?”
“I think there’s a mostly full box of fifty around somewhere. I’ll find the gun and bullets later.”
Spike shook his head. Giles’ disorder and clutter would get them all killed one day. “As long as it’s quick, mate. We’ve only got three days.”
“If we can move on?” Giles asked, almost plaintively. “We still have to talk about Ethan.” Giles waited a moment as they returned their attention to him. “How kind of you,” Giles voice dripped sarcasm as he continued, “now, Ethan has discovered that the current contact for the order is a woman, although he doesn’t yet know her name. Neither does he know if she’s human or demon. It’s slow but it’s a start. I’m afraid we will have to expect more attacks before we can get the necessary information.”
As if he had prophesied it, one of the shop windows shattered and a hand grenade bounced in. Spike sprinted towards it, using every last ounce of the preternatural speed he possessed. He bent down and, half diving, flicked it back towards the window. It exploded in mid air, just before passing the shattered pane of glass. Spike took the full force of the concussion, and was thrown back, like a rag doll, riddled with shrapnel. The last thought that went through his mind before passing out was {Thank god it didn’t slice my head off.}
* * * *
The rest of the group milled in confusion. Spike had got the grenade far enough away to prevent any of them being hurt, and the open nature of the shop had prevented temporary deafness, although they all had a dreadful ringing in their ears and were stunned by the amount of damage created. Adding to the confusion was Giles’ fire and burglar alarms, both operating at full volume, and the sprinkler system had started operating to damp down the smouldering potential fires created by the detonation.
Into this confusion ran two men, both appeared human. One carried a four-foot long wooden spear, while the other was armed with a sub-machine gun. “Where is he, where’s Spike?” The spear-carrier demanded loudly.
Willow had been the most sheltered of the gang. She looked around, shook her head and yelled “What?” As she did so, she rummaged in one of her pockets and also shook her head, trying to clear the ringing in her ears.
The two men moved forward menacingly, remaining close together. “I said, WHERE’S SPIKE?”
Willow nodded in understanding. “The Fort Knox Bullion Vault,” Willow called as she lobbed a crystal at them. In a flash of light, both had disappeared.
The others all looked over at her. “What happened?” Cordelia was fastest off the mark, but Willow was already moving to Spike’s motionless form. She crouched over him, horrified by the wounds she could see. He was apparently comatose, and bleeding from a large number of shrapnel wounds. Willow began to shake, as she realised what was needed.
She immediately took her athame and slashed across her palm, letting the blood flow into the mouth of the unconscious vampire. As she did so, she screamed “Blood! Now!” Not caring who went to get it or where it came from, she started to pull the shrapnel from his broken and torn body, sobbing and muttering under her breath.
Giles came to her, three blood bags and a funnel in his hands. As he arrived, Cordelia pulled Willow away, murmuring to her “It’s all right, let Giles help.” The Watcher forced the funnel into Spike’s throat and opened the first bag. He began pouring as he called Anya and Xander over to help remove shrapnel. The three worked feverishly, wanting to make sure Spike survived. They were aware of the potential for him to die of blood loss, and none wanted to see that happen, if only for Willow’s sake.
Cordelia led Willow toward the kitchen, but part way there, the little redhead’s control vanished and she was suddenly wracked with grief, pain, and fear, she dissolved into hysterical crying. Cordelia tried to get her into the kitchen, but Willow’s loss of control made that impossible. Cordelia sighed, pulled her hand back and delivered a ringing slap across the cheek.
The flash of pain brought Willow to her senses almost immediately. The first thought that went through her head was thank the Goddess for the alarms, no-one heard it. That realisation made her start to giggle. Cordelia looked at her strangely and Willow said, “I’ll tell you in the kitchen.” Cordelia simply nodded as she led the little redhead into the kitchen to dress the wound on her palm.
“Well?” Cordelia asked as she started to wash Willow’s cut.
“Ummm …” Willow paused, working out how to phrase it. “I sort of thought … thank goodness no-one heard the slap. Fire alarms have lots of uses.”
Cordelia looked at her. “Wills, I love you. You have the most wonderful mind and, just occasionally, you come out with something incredibly dumb.” Cordelia hugged her tight for a moment to make it clear she really did care for the little redhead.
As they looked at the cut Willow made, Cordelia began to chatter and make small talk. Willow was aware that she was doing so as much to distract them both from the ugly gash in her palm as anything else, and the petite witch answered almost automatically. She suddenly looked up, aware that the brunette cleaning and dressing her wound had asked a serious question. “Sorry Cordy. What was that?”
“I said, you really cut deep. You’re going to need stitches.”
“Oh. After I know that Spike’s all right.”
Cordelia looked at Willow and smiled. “Oh girl, you have got it bad! Anyway, what did you do to those two? I heard them ask where Spike was, and then you said something and they disappeared. They went poof!”
“Who’s a bloody poof?” Spike’s unmistakable voice was weak but clear as it cut through Willow’s and Cordelia’s thoughts.
Willow laughed as she explained to the vampire behind her. “Cordy meant the two men, assassins I guess. I threw a spell crystal at them.”
“So, Wills, where did they go?” the curiosity and impatience in Cordelia’s voice palpable.
“The Fort Knox Bullion Vault.”
Giles started laughing, “Oh, Willow, that is … beautiful,” he gasped out between bouts of laughter.
Willow turned, to see Giles and Xander supporting a very battered and obviously weak, Spike. She started to tremble as she looked at her lover, he was cut all over his body, and a major bloodstain coated his right thigh. “God, Spike, I thought I’d lost you.” She started crying again, this time tears of relief and gratitude.
Giles cleared his throat, “It was touch and go there for a while, until Xander could get the shrapnel out of his thigh--it had cut the femoral artery somewhat.”
Willow’s eyes spoke volumes as she shakily walked over to Xander and embraced him. “Thank you.”
Spike looked up. “You’re bleeding pet.”
“She made herself bleed into your mouth before we could get the blood bags,” Cordelia said. “She’s going to need stitches.”
Spike took her hand and looked at it, raising it to his lips, he began licking gently over the wound. He looked up at Willow. “Pet, this tastes intoxicating. It’s … ambrosiac.” Willow blushed as Spike spoke. He then bit his lip, hard and let a couple of drops of his own blood drip onto the wound. “This will help it to heal faster, but you’re still going to need stitches.”
It was then that the first fire engines and police cars arrived.