Part 26 Truths and Consequences

The small group entered the flat, dripping from the short trip from the car. Cordelia's hair dripped into her pretty face giving her a slightly bedraggled look.
Giles immediately headed for the linen cupboard, collecting towels and passing them around with some of his dry clothing.

“All right everyone, lets get dry. I know these won’t fit, but they’re warm and it’ll preserve our dignity.” Everyone speedily complied with the very welcome
instructions and they were soon as dry and comfortable as they could be. Cordelia took charge of the wet clothing, surprising all of them.

“Is there anything here that can’t be tumble dried?” She called out as she went in search of Giles’ laundry. When no-one answered, she threw everything
into Giles’ dryer and returned. In response to the three questioning looks, she asked, somewhat defensively, “What? What! Oh, the clothes.” She sighed
and explained. “Well, duh! It’s perfectly logical. Who knows more about clothes than the rest of you combined? At least I could work out what would shrink,
what needed warm cycle, what needed hot. It’s just a sensible division of labour. Talking of which, who’s making coffee?”

They all blinked in response. Willow recovered first and answered. “I will Cordy. Giles can you ring Xander and Anya please, and get them to come over? I
only want to have to explain this once,” she said, heading to the kitchen. Giles nodded and began to dial.

Spike walked over to the petite redhead. He simply wrapped his arm around her and kissed her neck gently. Then he began murmuring to her, in a voice so
low pitched that no-one else could hear. He continued to comfort her, even as Giles spoke. “No, Xander, it’s not ‘important’ it’s bloody vital. Now get your
backside over here, and bring Anya with you. No, not tomorrow, NOW!” He slammed the phone down and then cursed. “Stupid bleedin’ pillock!” He sat
down, and leaned toward Cordelia, finally filling her in on all that happened; after cautioning her not to say anything.

* * * *

Xander and Anya hurried into the apartment and the sight of everyone in Giles’ clothes surprised them. “What’s so important it couldn’t wait G-man?”

“We’ve got some very important news about Buffy. I’ll let Willow explain it, and she wants to only have to do it once.”

Anya looked profoundly unimpressed. She sat on the sofa, sighing obviously and wrapped her arm around Xander’s. “So, what’s happened to the slayer
now? And is it worth my valuable orgasm time to hear about it?” She asked acerbically, making it clear that she did not feel the inconvenience in rushing
over was worth the effort involved.

Willow sighed as she began to explain. “Well … overall, she’s getting better. And they intend to release her shortly.” She was interrupted by both Xander’s
expression of joy and Anya’s barely concealed sigh of boredom. She pressed on, concealing the gloom threatening to overwhelm her. “It’s not all good
news though. Apparently, she refuses to accept that Spike and I are a couple. According to her doctor, who isn’t part of the Initiative by the way, she'll try to
force Spike and I apart. Most likely by making me choose between Spike and herself. Though the doctor did imply that she could resort to more...extreme
measures.”

Xander looked at her, puzzlement showing in his eyes. “Just what do you mean by extreme?” He asked with suspicion.

“Dr McKeon thinks that she may go as far as attempting to killing Spike. However likely that may be, she’ll most certainly try and drive a wedge between
Spike and I. If that fails, then between us and the rest of you.” Willow paused to draw breath and also sip at her coffee before continuing. “I simply need to
know where everyone stands on this. If Buffy does try to force Spike and I apart, how will you guys react?”

Everyone looked nonplussed for a moment, gathering their thoughts and considering the ramifications of what Willow had said. Cordelia was the first to
speak. “Wills, I’ll go with you on this one. You’ve finally got a life and you seem to be truly happy. More importantly, you’re dressing so much better now.”

Spike spoke quietly before anyone else could. “I don’t like the idea of people taking sides pet. I’d much rather just convince the slayer to ignore us and let
life go on.”

“She won’t Spike, my love. She’ll punish us by forcing us away from our friends or forcing us apart. In all honesty, what worries me is what may come after
that.”

Giles entered the conversation. “You should also be aware that Dr McKeon has strongly suggested that Buffy be removed from active service as a slayer.
He feels that she won't recover sufficiently to return to active duty. We did look, very briefly, at other options open to us, but we haven't been able to decide
on anything quite yet. Furthermore, I won’t permit Buffy to split this group, and if she tries, I’ll have the council take her to England. I love Buffy like a
daughter, but I will not permit one of my children to tear the family apart.”

Everyone except Spike looked shocked at the vehemence in Giles’ voice. Willow was tearing up as she thought about what he had said. Xander looked
confused at the intensity with which everyone was speaking. “But Buffy’s the slayer!” Xander began, trying to work out what everyone was saying. “We can’t
leave her alone.”

Willow sighed. “Xander, no-one is suggesting that Buffy be left alone. But she can't be allowed to dictate to us who we're allowed to love. How would you feel
if she told you to choose between her and Anya?”

Xander pondered this for a moment, and then nodded slowly, realisation dawning. “No, that would be wrong. Anyway Wills, You’ve been there forever and I
love you,” glancing quickly over at Anya, “Like a sister.” He added hastily. I wouldn’t let Buffy do that to you. Or, if she did, I’d stay with you.”

Anya nodded slowly. “She shouldn’t do this. I don’t care who or what she is, forcing a happy couple apart is wrong. For over a thousand years punishing the
people who did that was my sole reason for existing. Of course I was very good at it, but still ...” She gave Xander a loving look. “I know how good the real
thing is now. I didn’t then.”

Spike looked over the group, one by one before he spoke. “Are you certain you want to do this? You’ll be committing yourself to a demon, in the face of the
slayer. She’ll be more than angry She’ll be furious and feel abandoned and betrayed. Furthermore, she’s not stable. If you do oppose her, she’s more likely
than not to see you as enemies. In particular Giles and Anya; Giles because she will see it as a betrayal, and Anya because you are a former demon. The
way she appears to be at the moment, it won’t be a great leap for her to conclude ‘once a demon, always a demon’.”

Xander looked confused again. “Why would she do this? Buffy isn’t like that.”

Giles looked over at Spike and Willow, raising his hand slightly to get everyone's attention before taking over the explanation. “Buffy isn’t the same
anymore. McKeon described it as a form of combat fatigue. I still remember my grandfather. He suffered from combat fatigue, or shell-shock as it was called
then, after the Great War. Even when he was elderly, he would still react to cars backfiring, or suddenly ‘see’ gas clouds. A certain level of delusional
behaviour will remain with Buffy for many years, if not forever. Her refusal to accept Willow and Spike’s relationship is symptomatic of that. That’s why I’m
going to investigate whether or not the council can retire her and let her train potential slayers instead.”

“But that means that she’ll have to go to England,” protested Xander. “That’s not fair.” Giles and Spike both looked highly offended. “Er … that didn’t come
out quite right,” Xander acknowledged. “What I meant was she shouldn’t be sent away just because she’s sick.”

“I know.” Spike surprised everyone. “What?” He responded to the looks directed at him. “I don’t think anyone should be sent off like that, but what other
option is there? She’ll try to kill me when she discovers that Will and I won’t be broken apart. The only other option is Red and I moving away. Is that any
fairer? Whatever we do, someone’s going to be hurt. The main difference is that, for the slayer, she can go somewhere she’s accepted for what she is,
have people who know of and understand her situation.”

Cordelia simply shook her head at Spike. “You’re being far too forgiving, Blondie. She's gonna destroy your relationship with Willow if she can. And if that
doesn't happen? She's going to try to kill you. This is just me, of course, but I wouldn’t be offering her tea and sympathy. I’d tell her to get the hell out of
Dodge.”

“Err, Willow’s already taken care of that side of things, via Dr McKeon.” Giles spoke to Cordelia, explaining. “She made it absolutely clear that if Buffy tried
to interfere between her and Spike in any way she would regret it. Profoundly.”

“Ah, good.” Cordelia’s satisfaction was written openly on her face. She grinned at Willow. “Way to go girl!”

Willow sighed. “I wish I didn’t have to though. This really boils down to her resenting me for having what she can’t; a vampire as a lover. It’s so … childish.”
The look of genuine pain on Willow’s face brought an automatic response from Spike, he embraced her tightly and began, once again, to murmur very
quietly in her ear.

“Is there anything more to say?” Spike asked, “because, if there isn’t, I’d like to get Red here home.” There was a moment of silence before a chorus of
negatives greeted his question, as once again, the rest of the group was taken aback by his concern for his petite and emotionally fragile lover.

* * * *

As they walked into their apartment, the blond looked over at Willow and asked, very simply, “What do you need pet? Is there anything I can do?”

The redhead looked at her lover as she replied. “I need you, Sir. In the basement. Please.”

Spike nodded and immediately moved to the concealed trapdoor. Rolling up the hall runner, he opened it and they descended together into the security of
their playroom. Spike flicked on the lights and pulled the door shut. Looking down, he saw Willow, kneeling on the floor. “I’m ready Sir, would you begin?”
 
 

Part 27 Follow the Lieder

Spike looked down at all the equipment that Xander had ‘requisitioned’ from the military. “Bloody hell Chubs, you don’t do things by halves, do you.”

Xander grinned tightly in return. “Well, it’s really all mine anyway. My taxes paid for this, it’s only fair that I get to keep some of them, right?”

Willow laughed. “Goddess Xand, that’s twisted, even by your normal standards of logic.”

The brunette grinned at his closest friend saying, “It’s always been far more advanced than your Earth logic Wills, just deal with it.” The grin widened for a
moment and the petite redhead joined in, remembering the first time that Xander had used that line. “It’s okay. We’ll always have these little moments,
remembering the old Buffy.”

Spike looked blankly at them, and Willow explained. “Xander first made that joke just after you had kidnapped us to get the love spell done. It just brought
some memories back.”

“Oh, pet. I’m so sorry. About the memories, not the kidnapping.” Spike grinned and then winked at his lover as he continued. “In fact, re-enacting half of
that could be a lot of fun. The half where I kidnap you--I wouldn’t kidnap Chubs again if you paid me.”

Willow laughed joyfully, while Xander looked simultaneously relieved and offended. Anya appeared rather put out. “Xander’s not good enough for you
nowadays?”

“He never was. I wouldn’t eat him if I was starving. I’d get diabetes.”

The look on Anya’s face grew decidedly offended. “He works hard, he needs carbohydrates. Anyway I think he looks more than delicious enough to eat.”

Giles looked at the playfully squabbling quartet, and then grinned over at Cordelia. “Should we leave the children to play, while we work out the plans?”

Cordelia flashed a dazzling smile back at Giles. “Let’s. Assuming, of course, that Xander and Anya run to tea and a teapot. I couldn’t cope with teabags.
We need something to get our brains working and relax our nerves after that little performance.”

“Do you think they’d also run to some biscuits? Bourbons would be nice.” Giles was joining in, utterly oblivious to the flirtatious nature of the interaction.
“Y’know, Cordelia, I haven’t had a Bourbon for years.”

Spike couldn’t resist the opening. “Nor’ve I, Ripper. The last one was a cadet member of the Orleans line back in … 1912 I think it was.” Giles looked at
Spike, shocked, and Xander was openly appalled. Cordelia seemed oblivious while Willow and Anya began to giggle. Spike just grinned at his little
redhead and winked.

“That really was a ghastly pun Spike.” Willow spoke somewhat scoldingly to her lover as Giles' head snapped around to look at Willow. He quirked an
eyebrow, as if to ask ‘are you sure he’s joking?’ Willow looked levelly at Spike as she sought the confirmation. “It was a pun, wasn’t it?”

“’Course it was pet. I hate France. Wouldn’t go there for love or money.” Willow’s answering smile was in a minority. Giles exasperation, Xander’s distaste
and Anya’s disappointment outnumbered it. Spike looked puzzled. “What? C’mon people. I’m ‘evil’ remember. Plus, it wasn’t like I was joking about real life
individuals. I was joking about the French! And French royalty at that!”

Giles looked at Spike and blinked a couple of times, then, in spite of himself began to giggle. At the looks he received from the others, he explained,
somewhat shamefacedly. “I’m sorry, you have to be English to really understand that joke.”

“Be that as it may,” Willow said sternly, “I think we should change the subject entirely. Xander, do you have enough radios for everyone?” In response to
Xander’s nod, she continued. “How many sets of night vision goggles did you get Xand?”

“I couldn’t get any, sorry Wills. They didn’t keep them in stock at the depot.”

Willow nodded, thinking hard as she replied, somewhat absent-mindedly. “That means Spike’ll have to trail her in the dark. Did you get any tasers?”

“Not a hope, I didn’t know what they were, even when I was ‘soldier-boy’.” Xander’s answer carried a certain amount of chagrin. He knew now just how
efficient they were as immobilising weapons.

“So, we just have radios then. We’ll have to make do.” Spike’s tone was flat, almost chilling in it’s implied ruthlessness. “I want this over,” he continued. “As
long as Willow’s in danger, either directly or because she’s with me, I’ll be on edge. So let’s do it.”

* * * *

Willow and Spike lurked just outside the entrance to the Bronze. Cordelia and Xander, both being able to recognise Holly, each covered one end of the
alley, Xander with Anya, and Cordelia with Giles. Looking at her lover, the little redhead sighed. “Y’know, at this rate I’ll never learn how to fight properly.”

Spike grinned down and pulled Willow in close. “Don’t worry at it pet, we’ll get a break soon, and we can start then. And, don’t forget you promised you’d
teach me to hack as well.”

“I hadn’t. I just didn’t get that far in my thoughts.” Willow curled in tight against the blond vampire, wrapping her arms about his waist as a defence from the
chilly night. Just as she did so, a stretch limousine pulled up opposite the club entrance. From the angle they were at, they could not tell who had just gone
inside, and Willow decided to follow them. Leaving Spike with the radio, she headed inside, mingling easily with the crowd and sliding in undetected.

Willow manoeuvered skillfully through the crowd, pleased that her ‘Not Here’ spell--which she had termed it for want of a better name--was serving her well.
It took her some time to reach the small coterie that had left the limousine, but when she eventually did, she was shocked. She saw Holly Charleston,
surrounded by two very tough looking vampires, a smaller, ruddy complected demon with four vestigial horns and, lastly, two large men who appeared
human but also looked exceptionally violent. Carefully, she memorised the positions of the group, noting that Holly was in the centre and also acting very
much as the group leader.

The smaller ruddy-faced demon leaned over and whispered something to Holly. Both she and the demon started to scan the crowd, appearing to search
for something or someone. Hoping that they would remain there for a while, Willow slipped away. Once outside again, she spoke to Spike. “They’re in
there. There’s Holly, two big vamps, two guys who look human and really tough and a smaller demon, four horns, red face. Oh, and the tops of his ears
flopped over.”

“Bloody hell pet, next time, at least tell me what you’re up to!” Spike was shaking with a combination of anger and fear.

The little witch looked up, suddenly apprehensive, at her Master. “I’m sorry Sir!” Her slip into the speech pattern went unnoticed by either. “ I didn’t even
think. It just crossed my mind that we couldn’t see who that group were. And I was right, thank the Goddess. Now, let’s call the others in and talk about
what to do.”

Spike sighed and nodded. “Okay pet. But … if you ever do something like that to me again, once I’ve calmed down, I’ll take to you in a way that’ll
guarantee you won’t sit for a month. Is that crystal clear?”

“Y-you aren’t going to punish me this time?” Willow’s voice was trembling with a combination of relief and disappointment.

“Wouldn’t be right pet. Firstly, I’m too angry to do it properly at the moment. Second, I’d never given you any instruction or order that covered the situation.
Now, seeing as you weren’t breaking any rules, I can’t punish you for it. On the other hand, if you felt a need to be punished, then you could always ask
me. For now though, little one, call the others in.”

Willow lifted the radio to her lips and spoke, as she had been shown, slowly and clearly. Finishing, she shut the radio off, and pocketed it. “So, what’s the
plan?”

“Dunno yet pet. All I can tell you though, is that impromptu reconnaissance you did worries me. There’s something about that little demon you saw which I
just can’t remember.” Spike’s brow furrowed intensely as he racked his brain.

Once the others had arrived, Spike asked Willow to fill them all in on what she had seen. Cordelia looked at them all. “We’ve got a hell of a problem then.
That demon--I can’t remember what the species is called--is empathic. He would’ve sensed Willow looking for Holly.”

Giles nodded, ruefully. “I’ve heard of them too, Cordelia. They’re called … errrr … damn, I can’t remember either; but yes, they’re empathic.”

“We’ll just have to deal with it then.” Spike spoke decisively as he continued to think whilst collecting information. “Huntress, how good are they at reading
feelings? How close do they have to be? How strongly can they do it? Can they read thoughts as well?”

Cordelia looked overwhelmed by Spike’s demands for information. She drew a breath as she thought how best to answer. “Well … the one who abducted
me … could pick my feelings up well enough to guess at my thoughts pretty well. He could do it from across a room, too. Does that help?” Cordelia’s head
quirked to the right as she answered. A gesture, Willow thought, that she had not seen since high school.

Spike considered this, and as he looked around, he began to turn ideas over in his head. “I wonder if we can use this somehow? Use the fact that they
detect people seeking her by their emotions?” He spoke more to himself than to the group, but aloud, tacitly encouraging input.

“Lover,” Willow began cautiously, “I didn’t have a chance to tell you yet, but I used a new spell I’ve been working on. I call it ‘Not Here’, and it makes me sort
of … forgettable, I suppose. It meant that I could get inside unseen, and although he looked for me, he didn’t see me.”

Spike began to smile slowly, and started to sketch a plan out in his mind. “Did anyone get the number plate of the limo? Bugger!” Spike cursed mildly at
hearing the joint answers of no. “Never mind, we can find out easily enough. How about we retreat for the night and make some plans?” A chorus of
agreement met him, although he suspected that the unseasonably chilly night may have had something to do with that, rather than wanting to plan further.

* * * *

Spike led a chilly group into the apartment. The gang had gathered at his and Willow’s residence, it being the closest to
The Bronze. As he ushered them in, he took on the mantle of host. “Please, all of you, sit down. Willow and I will fix
drinks very shortly.”

Giles accepted Spike’s behaviour without batting an eyelid, the others, however, were openly agog. They had never seen
the urbane nineteenth century gentleman that Spike could be when he chose.

In short order, Spike had everyone ensconced in chairs or on lounges, with drinks, cold or warm, in their hands. “Now,”
Spike began, a little uncertainly, “we’re going to have to make a plan for this. I do not like the sound of her
bodyguards. I have some ideas for dealing with the empath demon already. It’s the rest I’m more concerned about.
Recapping what Red here saw, there seem to be two humans and two vamps. Being members of the Order, they’ll be tough,
cunning and mean.”

Giles cleared his throat quietly and began to speak. “We need to divide their forces, take the vampires away from the
humans. Spike can probably deal with the vampires, while the rest of us handle the living. Before we start making plans
though, Spike, what’s your idea for dealing with the empath?”

“Red told me earlier how she managed to avoid the empath. She’s been working on a new spell; it’s not invisibility, but a
way of being inconspicuous, unnoticeable. She said the empath couldn’t see her although he did sense her desire to find
Holly, so I’m thinking she should perhaps lead him on a wild goose chase, taking away their early warning system. I’d
want someone tagging along with Red though. Just in case.”

The whole group began to think. They had a number of tasks to complete simultaneously; they had to distract the empath,
separate and defeat both the vampire and the human bodyguards and also quietly capture and abduct Holly Charleston. Four
tasks to carry out, approximately simultaneously. It was not an easy thing to do for a small group of six.
 
 

Part 28  Dead Ends and Distractions

Cordelia looked surprised at the clinical detachment that the Sunnydale Scoobies brought to the discussion. They had matured, and she realised it was like when she had worked with the guys in LA, before Angel’s intolerance had driven her back to the Hellmouth. “Yes Wills,” she answered after a moment of thought, “I can use a crossbow pretty well. Not great but not horrible either.”

Willow nodded. “Good. In that case, I think we can do it. Spike my love, I do like your idea to lure the empath demon away, but I can cast the spell on someone else and they can do it, leaving me to help take down the big guys. I’m thinking Anya would do that well, and Xander to guard her. Plus, no offence, Anya, but your brain is … weird enough that it may confuse the empath for a while.”

Anya looked up, offended. “At least I’m a patriotic …”

Willow cut her off as she was just beginning to hit her rhythm. “Anya, I meant that you were a demon for over a thousand years. That should confuse the empath more than anything we could do.”

“Oh, I suppose that’s all right then.” Anya huffed.

Giles looked over at Willow. “This ‘Barrier’ spell of yours, if we could separate the humans from the vampires, you could hold them off with ease. That would allow us to shoot and if necessary, Spike could go hand to hand against either that may have survived.”

“So who handles Holly while we’re doing all this? Willow is magic casting, Spike is fighting, Giles is, I assume, shooting while Xander and Anya are keeping the empath busy.” Cordelia asked the question simply and directly.

“Well,” Willow ventured, “I was hoping it would be you. She knows you, and you should be able to lead her to ‘safety’ away from the fighting.”

“Me? How come I’ve gotta do it? Why do I always have to be the sweet one? Why can’t I shoot? Oh, I know. Don’t bother answering. It’s that she’ll trust me because we used to hang. At least it’s a logical reason this time. In L.A. it was always ‘protect Cordelia’.” She sighed dramatically as she wound down.

“Which leads us rather nicely, albeit somewhat long-windedly, to the next question,” Giles continued once Cordelia had finished. “Where will we take Holly?”

Xander entered the conversation. “Why not to my parent’s basement? Nobody’s ever there, the windows are still covered from when Spike was there and I still have a key. It won’t be needed long, just enough time for Wills to do her thing with the truth spell and then we can blindfold her and dump her somewhere.”

“Good plan Chubs, in part.” Spike’s interjection came unexpectedly. “She’ll recognise Huntress at the very least though. We need a way to erase her memory. Or, we could just kill her. Less fuss that way.” He looked genuinely surprised at the shocked looks he received. “What? She’s evil too. Way eviller than me. Plus, we fight evil. And she arranged a contract on me, and possibly Red. I take that all rather personally. Just because she’s a human she gets special treatment? That seems a bit dubious.”

Spike’s diatribe had caught the others by surprise. They instinctively realised the validity of his points, but, with the exception of Willow or Anya, were unable to overcome the fact that he was a vampire. It also raised another legitimate issue. Did Holly Charleston deserve death, and if so, should her humanity give her some special status? Conflicting thoughts whirled through everyone’s minds.

At length, Giles decided it was time to take the bull by the horns. “The question that Spike raised has to be considered. What consequences would there be if Holly finds out who we are? Would we put ourselves in danger? And, is killing her our only option? Willow, do you have a spell which blocks memory?”

“No, I’ve never even looked for such a spell. There are chemicals that may do the trick, if we can get them.” Willow spoke a little distractedly. She was thinking about the points which Spike had raised. {Are humans inherently different?} She thought, {are they somehow entitled to be treated by different standards than demons?}

Willow realised the discriminatory nature of the arguments, but this was the first time she had considered it seriously. She found, to her surprise, that Spike was right. The double standard was wrong; that both humans and demons should be judged on their behaviour, not their species. The realisation was doubly shocking when she saw that it was simply the next logical step past racism, and concluded that she had, until now, been too close to the centre of things to take the time to reflect properly.

“I’ve got no problem in killing her if we have to.” Willow’s voice cut through the quiet conversation like a knife. “Spike was right about one thing at least. We shouldn’t be judging by a double standard. If she deserves to die, then her humanity shouldn’t protect her.” She was rewarded by a collection of stunned looks. “What?” Willow asked in an unreasonably reasonable voice.

The gabble of voices prevented anyone from airing their views clearly. Eventually, Cordelia’s penetrating voice overcame the opposition. “Yeah! Wills is right. Remember Doyle? He was half Bracken Demon. He gave his life to keep innocents from being killed. He was just as good as any human.” Cordelia received as many odd looks as had Willow. “What? Sorry people, remember the tact comments you used to make? Well, I still only say true stuff. So deal with it.”

Giles was deep in thought as he considered what both Willow and Cordelia had said, and was consequently surprised at Anya’s foray into the discussion. “Isn’t treating demons and people differently unconstitutional? I mean, ‘all men are created equal’ means that you can’t treat people differently.”

“Anya, demons aren’t people. And you have to remember that when the Declaration of Independence was written, that phrase meant precisely what it said.” Giles moved into lecture mode with practiced ease. “Women weren’t entitled to vote, and in most ways they a woman was also seen as the chattel of the man to whom they were married.”

Giles looked over his glasses at the suddenly silent group and smiled. He realised they were really listening, and so he continued. “There was no real equality between women with men, legally, until women were granted the vote. That was done first in New Zealand in 1893 and the United States didn’t follow suit until 1919. What you’re talking about, Anya, is essentially the same thing. You can look at the issue of slavery as another, similar example. Legal equality is an emotional minefield. In short, Anya, no, there is no constitutional right for a demon to be treated in the same manner as a human.” The entire gang was looking at Giles stunned. They had become used to him having known more about demons and vampires than the rest of them combined. However, having him know about voting rights for women had wigged them all.

“The issue, though,” Spike said, “is this daft bint Holly. What do we do with her?”

“I really don’t know,” Giles answered. “I’m really rather unhappy with the idea of killing her, but I can’t think of anything else at the moment. Can I suggest we have an early night and resume this tomorrow?” Murmurs of agreement came from all sides, and the meeting broke up without resolving anything.

****

Spike eyed Willow as they shut the door behind the rest of the group. “Well, pet, a day off. Any ideas on how we could fill in this unexpected gap in our schedule?” The look on his face was one of pure lechery. Willow, looking away, didn’t detect the lechery, however.

“What we should do, Spike, is start either my combat training or your hacking lessons. Which would you prefer?” She turned innocently towards him, and was surprised at the confusion that covered his face. “What?” she asked, confused. “We were talking about that outside the Bronze.”

“Er, true pet. Sorry. I got thinking nasty thoughts, again.”

“Again, don’t you mean still?” Willow’s pert, even cheeky, answer, was belied by the smile on her face, one which communicated love so intensely that it proved that love wasn’t only blind, but also mentally retarded. As she spoke, she moved up against Spike and wrapped around him, almost leech-like. She lifted her head and kissed him softly. “Much as I’d like to, I really do want to start learning how to fight.”

“All right Red, if you’re determined to get bruised without any fun, we’ll do some basic hand to hand training.” Spike grinned as he spoke, enjoying the teasing banter that they always shared. Spike wrapped his arm around Willow’s shoulder and they walked companionably toward the small, enclosed courtyard.

****

Willow groaned as she soaked in the bath and simultaneously indulged in self-recrimination. (Spike had suggested a nice little play session,} she thought. {Did I listen though? No, of course I didn’t! Even if He’d tried out the new flogger, I’d be hurting less than this. Goddess, every inch of me aches. And not even a decent spanking to show for it.} She groaned again as bruises and rarely used muscles protested vehemently at the slight movement she had made.

As Willow thought back to the training session, her first, another thought occurred to her. She was sure that not every vampire had had the kind of combat training Spike had received, so why did all vampires seem to have the martial arts abilities that they had? She saw almost immediately what had to be the answer. The demon. The demon had to have inherent combat capabilities, some combination of unarmed combat skills. So … in the same way that the human personality provided the demon with a cover, a way of readily blending into human society, the demon aided the human as well. Willow smiled. That fit the Law of Reciprocity quite nicely.

She suddenly became aware of the coolness of the bathwater, and sighing regretfully, clambered out of the tub in an ungainly fashion. Groaning as her muscles once again protested the movements she required them to do, she began drying herself. Willow had discovered very quickly after she and Spike had begun living together was that he didn’t like locks on internal doors. In fact, he had gone through the whole apartment and removed every internal lock in the place except the one to the playroom in the basement. Therefore, Willow wasn’t totally surprised when the door opened and a concerned face peered in, asking “Are you all right there pet?”

The petite redhead looked up and smiled a little shakily. “Pretty much, except for the muscle pain. No-one ever tells you how much this sort of thing hurts. At least the worst that’ll happen to you is a sore wrist.”

Spike laughed very coarsely. “Had them before luv.” He grinned as he spoke. “When you’re dry come into the bedroom, I’ll fix you right up.”

Willow smiled happily. She had been ‘fixed up’ once before. Who would have suspected that Spike was such a skilled Shiatsu masseur? “I’ll be right in.”
 
 

Part 29  Return of the Slayer

Spike and Willow walked in, the last to arrive. “Sorry we’re late,” Willow said, “we were training.” As she spoke, she winced and sat gingerly on the last available chair while Spike perched on its arm.

“What training? And how did you hurt Willow?” Xander’s protective instincts took full flight, oblivious to Anya’s jealous sigh as he shot the questions at Spike.

Spike shook his head sadly as Willow answered “I’m teaching Spike about hacking. And I’m not hurt, I’m sore because I used muscles I didn't know I had last night.”

“Excuse me?” Xander’s suspicions were heightened rather than reduced by that comment.

“We practiced hand to hand combat last night, you steaming wally.” Spike’s acerbic comment surprised the others. Since he and Willow had begun living together, his manner had changed; he had been quieter and
politer than the Spike they had known previously.

“Anyway, Xander, I don’t like what you’re implying.” Willow’s voice was even and placid, but her resolve face was in place. “It’s no-one’s business but Spike’s and mine if our lovemaking is gentle and soft, or hard and violent. I don’t try and protect you from Anya’s sexual extravaganzas and no-one tried to ‘protect’ me from Tara, so stop being such a … a buttinski and let me live my life!”  Xander was taken aback by Willow’s response. He knew he was trying to protect his best friend; and could not understand why she objected so much. He decided to let things go for now, but intended to make certain that she was safe. He did not quite know how he would accomplish that, but he was determined that he would, somehow.

“All right Giles, why don’t we get started?” Willow decided to move the meeting along before anything else could be said.

“Well, yes …” Giles started, then paused. “We’re still really stuck on the same point as last night, of course. What do we do with Holly?”

Unexpectedly, it was Anya who spoke. “I remembered that there’s a spell to blank memory. But I can’t remember anything about it.”

Giles smiled wanly, “At least it’s a start,” he said sotto voce. “Can you remember the context in which you encountered it?”

“Only that it was before I became human again.” Anya’s voice was quiet as she spoke, encompassing the feelings of both wonder and loss that she felt at her new-found humanity.

“So, do you think you heard it from D’Hoffryn?” Willow asked the question, leaning forward in her urgency.

Anya considered Willow’s question calmly and slowly. “I … ”  She paused, “No, it wasn't him. It was two wizards. They were talking about sleeping with the local peasant girls and blanking their memories of the events. One of them had an infuriated wife.” Anya smiled happily as she recalled her past.

“Damn!” Willow cursed. The mild but unexpected expostulation startled the others. “We aren't getting anywhere.”

“Er, I have an idea.” Spike spoke up, almost diffidently. “We could use that stuff they use in hospitals. Sodium something or another. It’s called a truth drug because it makes the person unable to summon the concentration to lie. That, with a bit of hypnosis should be enough, don’t ya think?”

Willow looked up, shocked. {Why didn't I think of that? I’m research gal!} She rallied quickly, though. “Yes, Sodium Pentothal. That should work, as long as Giles is willing to use the hypnotic techniques the council taught him.”

Giles looked old and drained; removing his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose, he slowly began speaking in a weary, almost querulous voice. “I have to be honest, I do not like the idea of treating a human being in this way. But having said that, I do understand, and even sympathise with, the points Willow raised last night. In a way, I’m trying to overcome a lifetime of conditioning by the council. But be that as it may, I’ll do my best.”

Willow smiled at Giles, remembering the crush she used to have on him as a high school student. For as long as she had known him, he had repeatedly redefined who and what he was to keep Sunnydale as safe as he could. She still admired him greatly for his dedication to an organisation that he had continually moved further away from philosophically, while maintaining the rightness of his cause. She realised, in a moment of total clarity, that what Giles was dedicated to was the safety of the innocent. He was taking the last and hardest step in that belief now, accepting the concept of sapience as valuable, rather than humanity. She idly wondered for a moment if it was Giles’ enforced house-sharing with Spike that was the real turning point for the Watcher.

“So, all in favour?” Xander spoke up. Seeing what he thought was a viable plan, he wanted it decided on quickly, his concern for Willow, his worry that she was somehow, in some strange way, in danger driving him.

“I can’t see a better option,” Cordelia said. “That ditz Holly needs to be dealt with quickly.”

“I agree, wholeheartedly.” Willow also spoke up, quietly but clinically. “The main thing we have to do is to stop the attacks, and to do that, we have to know who has ordered them. So Holly’s the logical answer.”

Giles nodded his agreement. “Yes, especially after the last attempt. Can you imagine if it had been carried out during opening hours?” He shuddered eloquently as spoke. “That alone is reason enough to put an end to this.”

“So, we use the plan we roughed out yesterday?” Spike asked. “We use Chubs and the demon to lure the empath away, Red blocks the humans down, Giles and I engage the vamps and Huntress lures the chit into a dark alley?” As the others nodded slowly, he continued. “Right then, when?”

“Well,” began Willow, “it’s Sunday. When is she there? Thursday to Saturday, right?” She looked around, seeking confirmation.

Giles looked up and nodded, before adding, “We’ll need to keep you two safe until then.”

“Keep who safe from what?”

The whole group turned towards the voice coming from the open doorway. “Buffy?” The looks Buffy received were a mixture of incredulousness, confusion, anger and joy. Xander moved immediately to embrace her, but was almost pushed aside as the slayer stalked towards Spike and Willow.

“Get away from her, you bastard!” Buffy glared at Spike as she spoke in a low, threatening voice.

Spike and Willow both looked back at her, Spike with murder in his eyes and Willow with something cold and frightening. “Buffy,” Willow began in a relentless and chilling voice, “if you make any more threats, I’ll deal with you. Permanently.”

Buffy looked shocked as Willow spoke. “Willow, I don’t know why you’re acting like this. I’m doing what’s best.”

“No, you aren't Buffy. You’re dictating to people.”

Buffy turned in shock as Giles spoke. “Giles, Spike is a vampire.”

“Really? I hadn't noticed.” Giles’ sarcasm spoke volumes about his feelings. “Buffy, understand this.” Giles tone became more serious as he continued. “Spike is currently incapable of harming humans. Furthermore, while you have been … ill, Willow and Spike have developed a friendship that has done wonders for both of them. They’re happier than I've ever seen them before. Spike has become a valuable asset to us and Willow’s abilities continue to grow and astonish me. While you've been recovering, people have changed. You have to deal with that Buffy, one way or another.”

Buffy looked at Giles, astonished. It had been years since he had challenged her so profoundly. “Giles, I am the slayer, aren't I? Shouldn't it be me who decides who’s evil and who we fight?”

“Buffy!” The sarcasm and remaining gentleness had left Giles’ voice and it cracked like a whip as the street accent of Ripper came through. “Stop behaving like a spoiled child this instant! You know perfectly well that all the decisions were made as a group, everyone having input. If you persist in this behaviour, I’ll have no choice other than to ask the council to recall you and, if necessary, place you in confinement.”

Buffy looked at Giles, her face a story of shock and betrayal. “Giles! You can’t do that, I have rights!”

“Watch me.” Giles’ simple statement, delivered in such a calm and matter of fact tone, scared Buffy more than anything in her life had before.

The slayer reached into her jacket and began a throwing action, but froze as Willow forestalled her. Caught in the act of drawing and throwing a stake, she looked surprisingly like a wax figure. “Don’t worry,” she spoke to everyone, including Buffy. “All I've done is to put a barrier around her that conforms to her body. It means she can’t move until, or if, I let her go. She can breathe quite happily though since I don’t want to hurt her.”

Willow stood and walked to the woman she used to consider her closest friend. “Buffy, why’d you make me do this? I stopped you from hurting Spike before you went to hospital. And I warned you I'd do it again if you tried anything. Now you have. I've got just one question, why?” As she spoke, Willow made a curious twisting gesture with one hand; as she did so, Buffy began to answer.

“Because he’s evil Willow. I don’t care about the chip in his skull, he’s evil. He tried to turn us against each other while we were fighting Adam, and this time he’s succeeded. I don’t know who he’s working for this time but I will find out.”

Willow shook her head sadly. “Buffy, I honestly think that your fight with Glory, and falling so hard as you stopped Dawn being cut, may have done something to you.You did hit your head kind of hard, when you caught yourself.”

“Don’t treat me like I’m an imbecile Willow! I know that somehow, that bastard has fooled you. He’s done a spell or something to make you think he’s good. I don’t know what, but I promise you, I’ll stop him.”

Willow sighed sadly. “Buffy, you really don’t understand, do you. It’s got nothing to do with magic, or anyone being fooled. Spike and I really love one another. It’s that simple. You, of all people, should understand that. After all, Angel’s a vampire too.”

“Don’t even think of comparing Angel with that monster over there!”

Willow erupted, her temper completely gone. “Y’know something Buffy, to hell with you! Until you can learn to be polite you can remain silent!” As she shouted, she gestured again, and Buffy’s response was inaudible. Try as she might, Buffy could not make a sound.

“Willow!” Xander sounded shocked as he spoke. “What’s up with you? You've never acted like this before!”

“It’s pretty simple Xander. Buffy won't let Spike and I make our own decisions. She insists on trying to break us up. I've warned her twice before. I told her that I wouldn't let her threaten him any more but she obviously doesn’t care what I want. I don’t know what’s got into her. Look, you really don’t like vampires, but you’re at least willing to let Spike and I try. She won't. And frankly, after all the dramas over Angel …” Willow pointedly turned to look directly at Buffy as she continued, “I’m surprised and hurt that Buffy hasn't been more supportive.”

Xander’s face turned thoughtful. “So,” he began slowly, “you’re saying that …” he paused as he reordered his ideas. “What you’re actually saying is give Spike the same chance we gave Angel?”

“I wouldn't have put it in that way, but that’s a neat way to say it.” Willow flashed Xander a smile.

“Okay, I can do that. Even if he is the ‘Big Irritating”.” Xander flashed a grin back at Willow.

“Oi! Whatcha mean …” Spike’s offended squawk was cut off as Buffy’s eyes bulged.

Giles was in the position to see best and reacted most quickly. “Willow, release her. She’s swallowed her tongue!” Willow gestured once again. Buffy instantly slumped to the ground, and Giles immediately tried to force her jaws apart to free her tongue. As he struggled, Anya moved away, horrified at the evidence of potential human mortality before her while Xander and Cordelia both tried to gather items useful for aiding in shock.

Willow watched, her eyes fixed wide in horror. As she turned toward Spike for comfort, Buffy started to convulse. Giles’ struggles intensified as he attempted to release the girl’s tongue from her throat. As Buffy’s convulsion subsided, he was able to force a finger behind her teeth and yank hard, pulling her tongue clear of her trachea. Buffy remained unconscious but her respiration resumed and the cyanotic pallor, which had begun tinting her face, receded.

Giles almost collapsed. He looked shocked and exhausted. His struggle to keep Buffy alive had drained him utterly and now that he had succeeded he wanted nothing more than to sleep. He was aware, however, that Buffy still needed medical assistance. “We need to call an ambulance for Buffy. She'll need to be checked out by a doctor at the very least. And I may have damaged her jaws during the struggle to start her breathing once again.” As he spoke, he moved wearily to the telephone and dialled 999; almost instantly realised his mistake and dialled 911, just as Anya and Cordelia returned with blankets, pillows and, in Anya’s spare hand, an empty hot water bottle.

“The ambulance will be here shortly.” Giles sat and tried to gather himself together. “Now, we have to make sure that Buffy doesn’t mention vampires again, or we’ll be back to square one,” he continued after a brief pause. As he spoke, he looked down, to see Buffy just beginning to regain consciousness.

“Buffy, what do you remember?” Giles asked in a gentle solicitous voice.

“Not a lot. Just getting angry and now waking up.”

“It’s okay Buffy. That’s basically what happened. I think it’s just an aftereffect of your illness. You did stop breathing for a very short time, so we called an ambulance for you.”

Buffy looked up, shocked. “I did what?”

“It was a side effect of your anger. You swallowed your tongue.” Giles explained evasively.

“Oh.” Buffy seemed confused. “How did I do that?”

“To be honest, I’m not really certain, but you’re all right now, and the paramedics will check you over.” Giles answer was once again economical with the truth. “Just lie there Buffy, it’s probably best that you don’t move.”

At that moment, they heard a siren approach, getting louder with each second. In short order, the ambulance stopped outside Giles’ front door and he moved to open the door prior to the paramedics needing to knock.

As the paramedics briskly walked in, they looked around. “Which one’s the patient?” Asked the lead officer. Giles indicated Buffy with a vague gesture. “Her. We called mainly because of worries that she may do it again. Swallow her tongue I mean. We don’t know what caused it other than her getting very angry.”

Nodding absent-mindedly, the paramedic moved over, crouched down and began to examine Buffy dispassionately. He concentrated the examination on her neck, head, jaw and chest. “Who reported that she had swallowed her tongue? And who removed it?”

“I did, I’m afraid. Was that wrong?” Giles answered nervously even as he voiced the previously unexpressed question that had lurked in the back of his mind.

“No, anything but wrong. In fact you did a better job than I could; I think. You hardly bruised her, let alone anything else. In over half the cases where people are saved from choking like this, the jaw’s broken. Did the young lady have any convulsions before the incident?”

“No,” Giles responded, and then, thinking a moment added, “She did have one convulsion after swallowing her tongue but before we could get it out.”

Again the paramedic nodded. “That’s not unusual as the air supply’s been cut off, once the brain runs short of oxygen, convulsions are a way of the body rapidly moving oxygenated blood to the brain. In itself, that’s nothing to worry about. I'd have been more concerned if she had stopped convulsing.”

He looked strangely at Buffy. “Ma’am, I have no idea where you got your recuperative capacity, but I can tell you right now, it’s amazing. The bruises I saw when I came in have completely healed, and there’s no indication that you ever had this happen to you. There’s no reason to take you into hospital. Even your respiration and pulse are normal. And that’s just not normal. If you follow me.”

“Uh, yeah. I've always healed fast.” Buffy said, perhaps a touch inadequately.

“Honestly, Ma’am, there’s nothing we can do that your body hasn't already done by itself. I wish all our calls could come out like this.” Smiling, he turned, rejoined his silent partner and they left, quietly shutting the door behind them.

Giles spun toward Buffy. “That’s it, you’re staying right there until the council come and collect you! I've had more than enough of your childish tantrums and attempted violence. Now sit down. Do not move, do not speak. I mean it Buffy, if you even twitch I’ll put a sedative dart into you with the trank gun.” He reached into a cupboard as he spoke and removed the tranquiliser rifle. “By the way Buffy, this contains the same muscle relaxants I used on your eighteenth birthday, so you know how you'll feel if it happens.”

“Giles! I …” Buffy’s protest died in her throat as Giles turned the rifle menacingly towards her.

“Willow, could you pick up the cordless phone please, and dial as I dictate and when it rings hand it to me. 011, 44,” he continued with the rest of the English number. “Ah, yes. I need Quentin Travers, urgently. It’s Rupert Giles speaking. Ah Quentin, we need Buffy collected as soon as possible. You'll make all the necessary arrangements including visas and such? Good, and when can you collect her? That soon? Wonderful, I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

He looked at Buffy and drew a syringe from his pocket. He handed the rifle to Willow and said simply, “Cover her.” Then he stood up and walked towards Buffy. Don’t move or Willow will shoot you, and that’s a lot more painful than what I’m about to do will be.”

“Please, Giles. No. I’ll be good, I hated that. It made me so weak and helpless.” Buffy couldn't control the shudder that jarred her from head to toe as Giles pressed the needle in as gently as he possibly could. The shudder was followed by a long drawn-out sob.

“You hate me, you all do. It’s the only reason you’re doing this!”

Giles sighed. “No Buffy, we’re doing it because we love you. You were just released from a mental hospital after suffering combat fatigue. You’re suffering from badly distorted perceptions and you’re still very fragile. We want you to recover. That’s why we arranged for you to go to England. After all, if we hated you as much as you seem to think we do, we could have left you to choke on your tongue, couldn't we?”

Buffy looked up at Giles in shock as she nodded. “I'd like to go to sleep please, Giles. The drug’s made me very tired.”

“Of course, Buffy. Let me help you up the stairs.” Giles stood and escorted the blonde gently as she staggered upstairs.

When he returned, Giles looked at the group. Apparently no-one had spoken since he left to help Buffy. “She'll sleep until after they collect her. I added some morphine to the mixture.”
 
 

Part 30  Eye of the Beholder

“Er … in essence, yes Xander, we just did.” Giles looked haggard and traumatised by the events of the previous thirty minutes. He drew a long breath and continued, “The issue, of course, is what do we do now? With Buffy in England and Faith still imprisoned, we’ll need to continue without a slayer.”

“Well …” Willow began, then lost track of her thoughts. “No, don’t worry about it.” She turned back to Spike and burrowed into his side, her head almost buried under his shoulder.

“Should we continue?” Giles asked the question gently, aware that his proteges were all trying to deal with what had to be the most traumatic event of their lives so far. He looked around slowly, thinking, and noticed that there seemed to be very little difference amongst the human members of his ‘family’. Anya, who had far less experience with or connection to, Buffy appeared just as shocked as Xander or Willow. “No, perhaps not. Everyone, go home and rest it’s been a dreadful day for all of us. We’ll meet again, when? Tuesday evening?”

“What about taking Buffy to the airport? I mean, Giles, won’t she be pissed if we don’t?” Xander asked the unspoken question on behalf of everyone except Spike.

“Xander, she’ll still be asleep then. Travers will collect her in an ambulance and they’ll take her to England on a hospital flight. She’ll remain sedated until she’s safe and sound over there. She wouldn’t remember a thing anyway. Oh! I’ve also arranged with Travers for Dawn to accompany her. That way neither of them will be completely alone.” Giles spoke sombrely before adding, under his breath, “and hopefully Dawn will actually get a decent education and learn to spell English in English.”

“But Giles, it’s just not right,” Xander persisted. “To send Dawn to England. I mean, do they even have Cartoon Network over there?”

Giles looked at Xander over the bridge of his glasses. “Really Xander, that’s hardly the issue. The real issue is that Buffy needs competent professional help, urgently. The Council is uniquely placed to provide that help, being aware of her abilities as a slayer, the things she has to confront and it’s emotional effects on a young girl. We need to do this for the sake of our friend. Unless, of course, you don’t want her to recover.”

Willow’s head snapped up at that. “Giles, that’s so unfair. You know that’s not what Xander meant.”

Giles looked over at Willow, surprised that her voice hadn’t betrayed the streams of tears continuing to pour down her face. “I’m sorry. That was a touch out of order wasn’t it.” Giles small smile instantly conveyed his apology for both reacting to Xander and also for allowing his reserve to slip slightly. “Look, I think we should really all try and get some rest and meet here again on Tuesday.”

Spike nodded slowly and stood. “C’mon pet. Ripper’s right. There’s nothing we can do here, and brooding’s only gonna make you more miserable.” As he spoke, he bodily lifted Willow and carried her towards the door. He looked back at the door and spoke again. “The rest of you should probably get some rest too.” He opened the door and walked out, closing it with his foot.

*                       *                       *                       *

Spike carried Willow from the car into their apartment. As soon as the door had shut behind them, Willow’s control fell away and she burst into huge racking sobs. They accelerated into a complete crying jag, verging on hysteria. Spike just held her in his arms, waiting patiently, and otherwise doing nothing but crooning almost subliminally to his lover. Anyone who had known Spike prior to his involvement with Willow would have been profoundly shocked. There was none of the hyperactivity, none of the harnessed fury and anger that so many associated with him evident in the vampire now. What was present was a tender, loving man, much more reminiscent of the pre-change William the Bloody Awful Poet than even Spike was willing to acknowledge himself. He waited patiently for his lover to cry herself out, knowing when she did, that they would have to deal with her guilt and grief together.

Slowly, Willow’s tears subsided. She looked up at Spike, her face still blotched and her eyes still teary. “Please, Spike, punish me.”

“What?” Spike’s whole face spoke of his confusion. “For what pet?”

“I nearly killed Buffy!”

“C’mon Willow. She was out of control. She was about to attack me. What else could you do?”

“I shouldn’t have almost suffocated her Spike! I’m a monster!”

“You never intended that, little one. You were only trying to keep me safe.”

“But I did it. I nearly killed my friend; a friend who’s saved my worthless life thousands of times.”

“Pet!” Spike’s voice snapped into command mode. “I will not countenance you calling yourself worthless! What have I said about that before?”

 Willow looked up at him, shocked at the tone in his voice. He hadn’t used the command voice for a while, but it was even more effective for that. “That I’m not worthless, Master. But I feel worthless. I feel bad. I’m a bad person.”

Spike let out a needless sigh and pulled Willow in close, stroking her hair. He wrapped both arms around her and caressed her lower back with one hand as he asked, “Pet, tell me what you have to have. What do your body and mind demand?”

Willow looked up, shocked. Not so much because she did not know, but because she sensed that Spike did. And that voice left her no room to avoid facing it. “I need to be punished, to be hurt. Like I talked about, remember? I need to hurt. Bad.” As she spoke, Willow started to tremble, as if she was entering a state of shock. She looked up and pleaded, “Spike, plee-ease.”

As Spike watched her, many differing thoughts ran through his mind. He felt protective and responsible, but also as if the best way to do that was to give her what she craved. He also knew that if he was to do so, he would have to be careful, because some of what she craved could leave her weakened for days, and since there was another Scooby meeting in forty-eight hours he could not allow her to be seen as being in pain. He quickly came to a decision. “Are you sure pet?”

Willow gulped and nodded, eyes averted from him.

Spike reached down and gently tilted her chin up so she was forced to look at him. “Are you sure pet? Really sure? This could change our relationship permanently.”

Willow nodded in reply, but Spike could see the need in her eyes, it burned inside her. A need to suffer, to feel; that she couldn’t properly do without pain. “All right pet. We’ll do it.” As he spoke, fear, anticipation and confusion all flooded his mind. “Let’s head down to the playroom.” So saying, he took Willow’s hand and led her down the stairwell.

When they had reached the basement playroom and shut the trapdoor, Spike drew Willow into his arms once again. “Listen pet,” he said, choosing his words with care. He spoke using words he knew Willow would hear and understand fully. “This will take you to places you haven’t been before. Not because it’ll necessarily hurt you any more than you’ve done to yourself in the past, but because you won’t be doing it, I will. It may scare or even begin to panic you. If it does, remember your safeword. I’ll also be watching you carefully, and, assuming the chip doesn’t knock me flat, I’ll also monitor your body language and other behaviour, okay?”

Willow again nodded, rather than speak. Spike decided that the redhead had to become more engaged. “Pet, pick two things you want me to use, and I’ll do the rest. Tell me which two you want.”

Willow pointed to a viciously barbed cat o’ nine tails. Spike turned her gently by the shoulder and said, gently but in a tone that indicated that he would accept no compromise, “I said tell me pet.”

Willow looked at Spike, took a breath and spoke in a small, tremulous voice. “Use the cat, Master, and a knife. Please. Make me pay.” Willow’s voice was cracking as she spoke.

Spike nodded and led her to a triangular structure that looked a lot like an overgrown artist’s easel. The top was adorned with a set of leather cuffs, thicker and stronger than she was used to seeing, and the ankle cuffs at the base of each leg were likewise thicker and stronger. Spike efficiently fastened her into the cuffs, buckling them tightly, and then also padlocking them in place by using the little stems, the small posts which locked the two layers of leather together, fitted under the buckle straps.

Having done so, Spike took the cat and the knife in one hand and caressed Willow softly with his palm. “Ready pet?”

“Yes, Master.” Willow’s voice was more even now, calmer and more accepting as she slid into subspace.

Spike also heard the immediacy of her arousal. {Good,} he thought, {at least she’s moving away from pure guilt}. He moved in closer, and began to swing the cat behind her, the tails whistling ominously close to her. He then stopped and drew the knife from its sheath. It was a lovely piece of work, he had to admit. A simple skinning knife made from Solingen Steel, with an equally simple but elegant bone handle. What made it special to him, however, was the simple fact that, if he laid it on a table, blade upward, and placed a sheet of paper on the blade, the sheet would cut in two from simply the pressure of its own weight.

He moved behind Willow silently and the first she knew of his presence was the feeling of her loose shirt being slit straight up the centre of the back, from waistband to collar. The vampire then pulled the two sides of her shirts apart, letting them hang from the sleeve. Reaching up, he cut, just as carefully, along each of the sleeves until the whole of the shirt fell, in a loose pile of scraps, to the floor.

Spike looked at Willow’s naked back, relieved that she had gone braless. In retrospect he should have stripped her before tying her to the triangle. Now he faced the difficulties posed by her maxi-skirt. He knew that, Dominant or not, if he cut it off her he’d be in doghouse so profoundly they’d be feeding him on bagged blood in dog food cans.

{This definitely poses some problems,} he thought. {How the hell am I gonna get that off her without cutting it? There’s no bloody way! Shit.} Spike bent slightly and unfastened the skirt, checking the inside of the waistband as he did so, just in case he somehow got lucky. {Yeah, right sunshine. Like she was gonna have a velcro waistband.} Standing back up, he whispered into her ear, “Pet, I either have to unbuckle you or slice it off. I know you like this skirt. Your call, which do I do?”

“Cut it.” Willow’s voice was small, plaintive and Spike detected hints that she wanted her punishment to be emotional and spiritual rather than merely physical.

“Right pet.” Spike moved back and lowered the knife to the base of the skirt’s zip, cutting through the zip itself, he ran the blade down the seam, opening it completely and allowing it to fall in front of her. He pulled the waistband of her thin cotton panties up hard, scraping the gusset painfully across her already swollen lips before cutting one hip through in a single slicing motion. He let them, too, fall to the floor.

Still without speaking, Spike took the cat o’ nine tails and began to swing it in a complex rotational pattern, reminiscent of a figure eight but far more intricate. The first blows began to rain down on Willow’s exposed back. As he began to lightly but methodically beat her, the cat began to cut slightly here and there over her back. The cuts weren’t even fully penetrating the skin, so no blood was being drawn, but Spike felt a twinge from the chip. “D’you want this pet?”

“Uh huh.” Willow’s moaned reply was all she could articulate with the endorphins flooding her system. Spike’s incipient headache vanished as he heard her affirm what he was doing. He continued, picking up both speed and consequently force as he did so. The tails of the cat were now slapping Willow’s upper back, and wrapping around her shoulders and rib cage, licking at the sides of her breasts and collar bone. The barbs were also biting deeper, beginning to draw just a little blood; and Spike could scent Willow’s flushing rush of pleasure and desire. He stopped a moment to lap up the small trails of blood that were beginning to trickle down her back. He found it intoxicating, almost beyond measure, and also felt his body’s natural response to that intoxication  arousal.

Schooling himself, he stepped back to continue. He lifted the cat and began once more. He began to use the kind of lateral strokes used in the nineteenth century by the British Army. He’d seen a soldier flogged at his father’s orders as a child in India, and had never forgotten it. He started slowly, but with very heavy strokes, each stoke cut deeply enough to split the skin deeply and blood began to run freely down her back, and each stroke was accompanied by a combination of cries of pleasure, pain, need and release. Her obvious pleasure seemed to be keeping Spike’s chip at bay as he continued. He entered an altered state and was no longer even thinking about the chip. He threw down the cat after perhaps twenty hard strokes and stripped. He pressed his naked form against her, feeling the wet warmth of her blood coating his chest and thighs. He felt Willow’s body shuddering as multiple orgasms fought with her endorphin rush to see which could provide the greater pleasure. The blond vampire felt his body surging, demanding release, but he knew it was not yet time, and he was also fully aware of the possibility that he may not get that release for some days. It depended on how far Willow needed to go. {Well, unless I consort with Rosie Palm and her five sisters}.

“What do you need now babydoll? Tell me.” Spike whispered into Willow’s ear softly.

“Master, I need you to take control, don’t let me decide.”

“How pet, how do you need me? Just tell me, luv.”

“Fuck me Master. Claim me! Just fuck me hard! Please!”

“You’re sure pet? Do you realise exactly what you’re asking me to do?”

“YES! Just do it Master, Please!” Willow was literally in tears of agonising need and burning arousal. She could feel a combination of sweat, her own juices and a little blood slicking her thighs.

Spike chuckled gutturally, his voice thickened by a raging, nearly uncontrollable lust. He quickly drove deep and hard inside Willow, with but a single thrust he penetrated her fully. Willow’s arousal was so intense he felt as if he had entered a molten pit. He began to fuck, ramming in and out of her brutally. As he did so, he kept a whispered litany up, only just loud enough for her to hear. “Gods, pet, you’re mine! Mine is the only cock you’ll ever need. Tell me pet, how does it feel?”

Willow’s head lolled back as she tried to respond, but all that came out of her mouth was a high pitched series of crying wails as Spike ravished her so savagely the breath was being forced from her body. Spike lowered his hands to grip her hips and began to fuck her even harder, deeper and more ruthlessly. Willow writhed and continually gasped as Spike took her. He leaned into her again, to resume the litany. “Tell me pet, you know why I’m doing this, don’t you?”

“Y-y-yes, Master.”

“Then why, pet?”

“B-because it’s a-all I deserve. God!” Willow’s lust, as intense and all embracing as Spike’s, meant that her ability to focus was severely limited; as she drew her breath to talk, she reflected briefly on what was happening and that was enough to send her surging into orgasm. “Yessssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss!” Her body snapped back and forth, almost whip-like as each pulse raced through her body, energising her nervous system to nearly the overload point. “Oh God yesssssss.”

“No pet, it’s what you need right now.” He wondered if Willow had even registered what he had said.

As her muscles relaxed in the aftereffects of her orgasm, Spike slowed enough to allow him to pick up the knife. As he continued to fuck her helplessly suspended body at a more measured pace, he started to run the tip of the blade over her spine, not cutting, or even welting the skin, but sending Willow into further paroxysms of pleasure as he did so. Once again, endorphins warred in her brain as she tripped over the line into the deepest sub space she had yet entered. Her head lolled forward and her moans were becoming mixed with helpless giggles as tears rolled freely down her cheeks. Spike ran the blade outward around her ribcage and then down her side, still teasing and torturing her with its feel. The cold metal made her skin crawl as it also made her fully embrace her true self.

Spike trailed the blade around, and working by touch, found one of her nipples, and balancing the point atop the nipple asked her. “D’ya trust me pet?”

“Uh huh,” was all Willow could manage as Spike teased the tip of her nipple with the blade. “Ohhhhhhhh!” The cry came out as she felt Spike spin the blade tip on her nipple. She began to whimper as spike led the blade tip back over her breast this time, once he was free of the aureole, scoring her skin very lightly.

“Oh God that feels good!” Willow expressed her feelings, unaware she had done more than think the words.

“So what do you need pet?”

“Just one. Just one cut Master. Please!”

Spike grinned. He wasn’t about to tell her, but he was exceedingly pleased that her need had reduced to a single cut. “All right baby, I’ll make it as I cum.” He knew it wouldn’t be long, his self-control had been growing ragged for some time, and he felt the burning need of release. Taking a long breath, he uncuffed Willow and carried her to the bed that the room was equipped with.

Carefully, he lay her on the sheet and sat next to her for a moment, and looked at her. “Now luv, or after I cum?”

“Now! Now!” Willow’s cries weren’t loud, and her mind was still a delirium of interlocking desires, needs and cravings. All she knew was that she needed to feel Spike mark her. “Please Master, mark me. Let the world know I belong to you.”

Spike smiled happily. He may not be able to bite her, although he was beginning to wonder about that, as long as Willow was willing herself to have him bite her. “All right baby. One last question. Where?”

“Hip.” Just one word was all that Willow was capable of.

“Ready love?”

Willow just nodded mutely in response. Spike lifted the blade and pressed firmly into Willow’s skin, cutting a short line horizontally just below the peak of the hipbone. Willow screamed in a mixture of searing agony and explosive ecstasy, with the pain predominating, but Willow’s need for forgiveness made that, in it’s own way, an ecstatic experience in itself.

Spike lifted the blade again and quickly made two almost vertical cuts which met, creating a long, very thin, triangle, the tips of the short side extending past the long edges very slightly. He grinned at Willow as he leant forward to lap up the blood. “Pet, you taste so damn good. Now, lets have a look at it.” Spike examined the wound, which was still flowing freely. “Luv, we need to cover this, stop the bleeding.” So saying, he got off the bed and got the small first aid kit that he had stocked the playroom with. He returned to the bed and covered the wound with several layers of absorbent gauze and then taped it firmly in place.

He grinned wickedly for a moment and then reached out to take Willow by the hair and used it to pull her to him. He positioned His hands over either ear and forced her head down towards his throbbing, precum-soaked cock. Once Willow was on all fours, her face only inches away. "Do you really want me to use you pet?"

 Willow nodded, her mouth opening automatically. As it did so, Spike roughly pulled her mouth onto his waiting erection.

As Spike forced his way inside, he felt the slight roughness of her teeth scraping against his shaft, and as Willow became aware of it, her mouth opened slightly wider, to better accommodate him. His cock pushed down, the head gently rubbing over her palate until he reached her throat. When he felt Willow’s throat begin to spasm automatically, he eased back slightly to stop her gagging. He began to thrust, gently at first, trying to avoid hitting the redhead’s gag point; and he was surprised to hear a slightly disappointed moan coming from his lover. He looked down, and saw her looking up at him, an expression of rejection obvious in her eyes.

He smiled, whispering to her, “Sorry pet, I see what you want now.” As he spoke, he gripped the back of Willow’s head firmly and began to forcefully fuck into her mouth. He no longer worried about the gag reflex, but simply drove his rigid cock past it with each thrust. Spike heard the choking gasps as Willow attempted to please him. As he looked down, he could see the growing excitement on Willow’s face. His using her mouth like this was increasing her excitement, he could smell the waves of arousal as her wetness slicked her thighs and literally dipped onto the bed sheets. Willow climaxed slightly ahead of the blond vampire, her screams of orgasm muffled by Spike’s thrusting cock as it pistoned in and out of her mouth. Spike came only moments later, his head thrown back; game face locked in place as he roared his pleasure.

They both collapsed onto the bed, satiated. Willow smiled up at her lover and Master, some of the cold semen still staining her lips and a thin line running towards her chin. She deliberately, with a wicked grin, flickered her tongue out to lick up the errant trail of his seed; knowing full well, as she did so, precisely how it would look.

Spike moaned as he saw her action, but underlying the moan was a massive sense of relief. He could see by that simple action, that she had purged her guilt about Buffy. He smiled at his lover and submissive, drew in the necessary breath with which to speak, and said, simply but with all his sincerity, “I love you pet.”

Willow smiled; this one wasn’t, as she thought of it, her ‘naughty’ smile but a smile of sheer pleasure and joy. His few words touched her heart, in a way that no-one had previously succeeded in doing. Unlike her previous relationships, she had proof positive that he loved her. What he had done demonstrated that to her beyond any possibility of questioning. She slid off the bed and knelt, automatically assuming the position he had shown her weeks before. “I trust you, Master. Completely. Please, take my safeword. I want you to own me totally.”

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