Spike awoke to the feel of Willow moving away from him. He reached for her, catching her elbow in the half-formed shadows of early night.

"LET GO!"

Startled by her command, his hand dropped, and Willow bolted from the bed, ran into the bathroom, and slammed the door.

For a moment Spike just laid there, completely baffled by her reaction this evening. He thought they'd managed to break ground earlier, come to some kind of understanding. Willow had poured out her heart to him, and he'd listened. In the end, before the last time they'd drifted off, he thought she'd finally done it. She'd told him why she'd called out to him that night, and now he knew without a doubt that she'd always planned for him to take her, to turn her into one of his kind. The Slayer had fucked up royal, and now Willow was his.

But that didn't explain why she'd run from his touch!

Following an instinct as old as his twenty-three year life had been when he'd been turned, he drew in a deep breath to sigh--and fell into full game face as a subsonic growl emanated from his chest.

His golden eyes widened at the scent on the air, and without hesitation, Spike pulled the covers that had been wrapped around Willow's body, up to his nose and inhaled. Gold disappeared as the intoxicating scent caused his eyes to roll to the back of his head in erotic pleasure.

He inhaled again, the sweet smell filling his nostrils and focusing his brain on only one thing--Willow. Dropping the blankets, he threw the covers off himself and stalked the room, locking all the doors and window's as he went. He examined every shadow before coming to stand in the middle of the room, his body poised for a fight, every muscle taunt and ready for any command his demon gave it to protect what was his.

The door of the bathroom opening sounded a thousand time louder, and the smell of Willow came on the air in a rush only a predator could comprehend. Spike turned in her direction, noting that the sound of her gasp at his facial features only heightened his desire for her.

She looked so tiny standing in the doorway, a heated flush on her cheeks where her body temperature had risen during the night. One silk covered breast peaked over the doorframe, as did one pale leg. She was the image of a temptress--and it was probably the only duality that shocked Spike's brain back into focus.
 
 

By Satan himself, she didn't understand! This wasn't in any of the Watcher Journals, not a single bloody volume, because to a vampire, this was more sacred than even a turning. This was life and death, the very essence of woman that was so directly hers, that only a vampire could appreciate the glory and sacristy of what it really was.

"…spike?" Even her voice was tiny.

With more effort than he thought he could stand, he moved to the glass door that opened onto the glass balcony. He didn't look at her when he spoke, only unlocked the door and walked through, closing it tightly behind him. "Go to your room, Willow, bathe and dress in something completely covering. I'll come see you when you're done." He didn't wait for her reply.

From the other side of the door, he could almost feel Willow's worry and fear. He'd never been so cold to her, never so withdrawn, and he knew she was suffering. But he'd explain it all, everything, once she'd washed at least some of the scent away, some of that heady mixture that was only female, that meant both life and death.

* * *

Willow wanted to cry.

What had she done?

Oh, she knew what she'd done, knew exactly what was wrong, knew the very sight of her must disgust him. She covered her eyes, drawing deep breaths as she tried to quell the tears that threatened to spill onto her cheeks.

Goddess, what was she going to do?

Running from the bathroom, Willow tore out of the bedroom, down the hallway, and into her room. She slammed the door behind her, running into the bathroom before stripping her nightshirt and turning the bath water on. She twirled the hot dial without consideration as she ran to the sink and opened the cabinet door. From inside, she withdrew a grocery bag containing all the girly items she's been embarrassed about the night they'd put groceries away.

From within, she pulled out a single tampon. Unwrapping it, Willow followed the instructions written on the box by memory and then turned back to the tub, tears trickling down her face in shame.

She'd wondered how she'd escaped nearly seven weeks without her period, but had chalked it up to stress. Now, as the tears fell unchecked, she wanted nothing more than to hide herself from Spike for the rest of her life.

By the Goddess, he was a vampire! She'd seen he and his kind use scent as a means of tracking people before, knew from the Watcher Journals that the olfactory senses of Vampires were some of the most acute of all the demon world. And she'd been right next to him!

Willow knew she'd been lucky, avoiding any kind of accident that could have resulted from her being unprepared for this monthly event. But how disgusting! The scent of one's own body often propelled girls to take two or more showers a day during this time of the month and Willow was often no exception. But for a vampire, the smell must have been--Willow covered her mouth in a sob.

The tub was full then, and Willow shut off the water numbly. She raised her foot and sunk it in, hissing at the scalding temperature. It didn’t matter though, maybe if the water was hot enough it'd strip her body of scent, of blood that was pointless to a woman who had never really wanted children in the first place.

She cried for a long time, letting the tears release some of her morbid embarrassment. How could she face him again she wondered, as the tears found a new question to fall over?

Willow didn't hear the door open, didn't hear the deep in draw of breath as Spike saw her leaning against the side of the Victorian tub, her shoulders shaking slightly with the effort to hold in her sadness.

"Pet?"

Startled, Willow looked up, her eyes puffy, as she pulled her body closer to the side of the tub, hiding herself in shame. She couldn't bear to look at him, and turned away, her eyes focusing at the floor by his feet.

"No, Willow." His voice was filled with such self-loathing, but Willow didn't hear it, all she could hear was the disgust.

She spoke hurriedly. "I'm sorry. I didn't--I didn't know it was…it hasn't come since I've been…here. I'm so…please, please just leave. Please." She knew he was staring at her, knew it from the burning sensation she felt in her cheeks. She wanted to crawl under the water and hide, keep herself hidden for the five days of hell she'd go through as soon as her body realized what was going on. "Please don't look at me."

She wasn't at all prepared when he came and knelt by the tub. Wasn't ready when he poured the liquid soap into his hands and gently began to run it through her hair. She tried to pull away, but he just gently tugged her back by the roots until she was facing him, her green emerald eyes locked with ice blue.

Spike didn't say a word, just continued to gently scrub her hair, occasionally caring a cup full of water to rewet her hair. Finally, without words he got her to turn just slightly so that her body was now at length with the tub, before he tipped her chin back and washed away the suds. She wasn't conscious of her breasts peaking tautly over the crest of the water, didn't really care as she watched him pour water over her hair, working the soap out.

It should have been erotic, but it wasn't, it was horrible, watching him do this for her, and knowing all the while he knew a secret females told males only when backed into a corner. It was their secret, their private curse, and they bore it knowing it would pan out someday, that the suffering would be worth while. This wasn't a thing to be shared with males, and Willow felt her cheeks flush as his eyes found hers.

Again Spike turned her wordlessly, so that now her back was to him. He applied the silky conditioner to Willow's hair, massaging it into the strands with agile fingers. She was grateful he'd turned her away, she didn't think she could stand looking at him anymore. When their eyes had met, his had flashed a golden color, and the only thing she could think of was that he was doing this for her just to make sure it got done properly--that he was angry.

When the conditioner had been worked through, Spike urged her to sink more fully into the tub before he drained half the water away, filling it with fresh, more comfortable water. Distraught, she tried to turn around, tried to send him away again, but her movements only caused him to push gently on her shoulders, locking her in place. Willow felt the tears of frustration fall down her cheeks, but they were quickly lifted away as Spike brushed them aside.

Then Spike did a very strange thing, against the same portion of the tub Willow was leaning against, Spike did as well, so that the side of his head could just barely touch the side of hers if he leaned just to the right. He lit a match then, bringing the flame to a single candle until it sputtered to life; and then with a kick of his outstretched foot, he slammed the bathroom door closed. Willow jumped at the bang of door against frame, but Spike gently shushed her; and then he told his tale.

There was an air of mystery to his voice, as if he were telling her some fantastical story that was so engrained in him it was like speaking about the gods. There was reverence in there, and a deep respect that resounded in every word he spoke, and by the time he was finished, Willow knew everything he said was true, no matter how it made her feel.

"It's a sad fact of life that men are bloody well stupid. The worst is, they don't even know it. They prance around in their dignified clothes, poking their willies where they don't belong, all the while making sure everyone knows, they're the ones that run this whole place. Well, maybe I should have said, human men think that; vampires are a lot smarter.

"What's life and death? It's a question a vampire asks himself all the time. Am I alive, or am I dead, and if this is dead, was it any different than being alive? Those kinds of deep questions plague the immortals all the time. Who are we, why are we here? That sort of thing. The smarter of the vampires figure it out right quick. We're the harbingers of death, extensions of the hand of that death. Maybe we're the fallen angles as some poets like to think, but me, I think we've got less to do with god and more to do with the cosmic balance of the whole thing. We're creatures just like everything else, with needs and desires just like humans. We live, we work, we play, and we do it all the way nature intended us to do it. Humans think they're at the top of the food chain, but we're the ones that hunt the humans, and likewise they hunt us. We're equals and we're the same. So that answers those questions.

"But the one that gets us, the one that really makes the blood run cold in our veins is the question, 'What's life and death?' That one's not so easily answered, and that's the question that keeps us up during the day, wondering and worrying. It's a hard question to answer, but that doesn’t mean we don’t have one."

Spike paused, and Willow wondered briefly at what was to come.

"A long time ago, vampires, the old kind, sat down to really think about this question. What was life and what was death? We seemed like death, we brought it, we carried it in the fangs we used to kill with, in the way we toyed with our pray to heighten our pleasure. We killed for necessity and we killed for sport; but those things were done by humans as well. So if we weren't death then were we life? Was being a vampire the actual source of life, of immortality? Humans died if not turned, they withered away like the fruit on the vine, but being a vampire was to pick the fruit, to make it last forever. But we became like dust if killed, so how could we truly be called immortal?

"In the end, it was a wise female vampire that said we were the balance, neither living nor dead. And to justify this claim she brought in a female human." Spike stopped suddenly, savoring the memory as it coursed through him. Even Willow understood that this was a very important story for vampires.

Spike confirmed it. "Vampires don't share this story with anyone, Willow. It's as good as our bible for lack of a better term. It's the one thing vampires hold sacred, more than the Sire/Childe bond, more than the blood that ties us to clans. We only share the story with those we plan to make into a Childe, a vampire with the strength of twenty fledglings, both in muscle and will to survive.

"Understand, that after last night I will make you my Childe, Willow, the strongest I've ever made in fact. You'll be my Queen, my mate--and my every desire will come to rest with you. I can't tell you how I know you're the one, Pet. Angelus once told me I'd know the one I'd give the gift to when I met him or her, but I never really believed him." Spike paused. "How could I believe him when he said that's why he made me?"

It was a sad, heart wrenched confession from the vampire by her side, and without meaning too, Willow turned over in the water and wrapped her arms about his neck from behind, nuzzling her lips into his hair and kissing his temple.

For a long moment, Spike just allowed the contact, soaking it in. Finally, he lifted one of her hands from his chest and kissed the inside of her wrist. When he pulled it away from his lips he held it, examining the white unmarred flesh.

"When I'm finished with this story, Willow, I'm going to drink from you again. It'll be the only way for me--but I'll explain in a moment." And he kissed her wrist again before gently pushing it back towards her. She pulled her arms back into the water and returned her body to its original position. She never said a single word against becoming his Childe.

"This vampire was a Queen. Watcher Journals don't talk about Queens because vampires don't talk about Queens. Humans are foolishly ruled by men; but vampires are a matriarchal society. Women rule all the old clans, as they should. The transformation does something to them, makes them stronger and wiser than their male counterparts. The original vampire was a woman, some say the Slayer's twin sister who was possessed by a demon during some kind of Neanderthal ritual. Some say she still lives, hidden away, sleeping, waiting for the time to rise.

"Female vampires preserve the species. Males are a lot like humans, brash and filled with the need to prove themselves better than the rest. They wage war against each other, kill one another, for little more than the notion that they can. But the females, those are the ones to beat. They're smart, too smart, I sometimes think. They plan with the devious nature of true killers. Men were born to be human, to kill without cause and with blunt objects; but women, graceful and stealthy, they were born for the hunt. They kill only when provoked, otherwise, living with the land, with their surroundings. They blend with the ease of knowing they belong there as much as the rest. And as humans they had the one secret that even males--through their constant battles--will never possess--they had the ability to bring forth life from their very bodies."

Willow cringed, knowing before this started it had something to do with this female activity, but enthralled none the less by the way Spike was talking about it. She kept her comments to herself, listening intently.

"I think I know what you're thinking, Luv, and you can stop right there. I'm not planning on leaving you alone, or avoiding you, or locking you in the basement until the bleeding stops. I should have explained better when I sent you away…but in all honesty, I didn't think I could control myself."

Stunned by his frankness and his admission, Willow turned around again, staring at the back of Spike's blond head. "Control himself," what did he mean by that?

Spike didn’t answer Willow's silent question, just continued the story. "This human female the Queen brought to the council was young, perhaps fourteen or so. Back then she wasn't so young though, a good marrying age, even better for birthing. The Queen had bought the girl from her family for a few gold pieces, quite a bit of money I'm told.

"It was during the girls monthly--period, in the States, right?" She nodded and the feel of her hair against his must have supplied his answer because he continued. "They say it was like nothing anyone had ever seen before. A council consists of at least ten vampires, all leaders of clans, and at this time, in this place, the leaders happened to be mostly male; seven to four I’m told, were the odds that night. It's said the males fell into full game face immediately, smelling the air like rabid dogs. In animals, menstruation's a sign of fertility, in humans too, only it's an indication that the last month was unsuccessful, and some bloke better stake his claim fast. But these males, the cream of the crop you might say, fell all over themselves to get at this one female girl.

"Lucky for the little chit, the Queens stopped them, held them back long enough for them to get their senses about them. When they'd settled the bloodlust, the poor creature was huddled against the Queen who'd brought her, frightened out of her mind. The Queen pointed to the girl and said, 'This is the human girl, who's body brings both life and death. The evidence of this is the blood that flows between her legs. It is the thing of life to all humans, and yet it symbolizes death as it leaves her body. Humans find her weak and disgusting, shun her from her community during what they see as a symbol of their own mortality. But I say to you this, to us, to vampires, she is death only when her body is taken by child, and life only when there is no child to be had.' And then to prove her point, she drank from the child, not from the pulse of her neck, but from the cavity of her body that supplied freely without harm. Then she said to them, that the blood of life and death is purer that the most crystal water, warmer than the fires of an inferno; that this blood, and this alone could sustain a vampire for a month without further feeding. But the others didn't believe her--it's a pretty bold claim to a vampire that usually has to feed every other night or so. The very idea of feeding only once a month would be like a miracle. Vampires got killed on the hunt, from lucky humans to the Slayer. If what the Queen was saying was true, then a vampire could get himself a willing woman and pursue things other than feeding the demon. So the council made her prove it. For twenty-eight days the council sat in the same small cave. Every few nights, some would leave the cave to hunt while the others watched the Queen and her human girl. Not once did the Queen feed from the girl, and not once did she leave to feed in the night. For a month this continued, and still the Queen did not feed, nor show any signs of needing too. Finally, on the twenty-eighth day, the human girl began her cycle again, and it was from this the Queen indulged. From that moment on, vampires learned that human females were only a source of life, life to humans and life to vampires.

"On the Hellmouth, more females die than males, because only fledglings and fools walk the Hellmouth. The old vampires, the ancient ones that make me, in human standards, only a few days old, they know the value of a female life, that in her body rests the ability to sustain a vampire for forty years if kept right. So they hunt men for sport and sport alone, caring for a small group of women they provide for and in exchange visit monthly to drive off the hunger."

He turned then, and their eyes met, Willow's large with a mixture of horror and appall, and his with a desperate need to make her understand. "Think of it like this, Luv, the human world views this as a sign that you've failed, that you've managed to go one more month without fulfilling your life's mission; on the other hand, to a vampire, you're the real source of life only if you bear no children."

At her still mixed look Spike sighed, running his hand over his face, and smelling her scent between his fingers. He groaned, closing his eyes against the fragrance of her that was beyond the smell of even the most advanced human. It was the scent of human chemicals on the air, of the duality of life and death. He could feel his face shifting, feel his need for her almost overwhelming, but he staved it off, forcing himself to remember that she was still very much in need of him to stay in control.

When he opened his eyes, they were gold rimmed. "Willow, right now, your body is the most sexy, enticing, erotic thing I can think of. You're scent fills the room, and while you can't smell it, it's like the most alluring perfume. To a vampire--to me, I want nothing more than to take you, alternate between feeding from you, and making love to you until the very thought of leaving me drove you closer to me. I want you right now, more than I've wanted any woman, human or vampire, ever in my entire life. You're the one I'll make into my Childe, my mate, and it's taking all my self-control not to just turn you now and make you mine. That's how powerful this is, how strong my desire for you is. It's almost more than one can stand, more than I want to stand. It feels like I need you just to live, just to survive a few more seconds. You don't disgust me, Willow--no Luvie, the very scent of you drives me mad with desire for you." And to punctuate that point, he wrapped his hand into Willow's slippery hair, and crushed her mouth to his in a bruising kiss that brought every truth he'd told home.

Her whole life, this cycle had been considered a let down, as if she'd done something wrong by being cursed with it. It was painful and restricting, seeming to cut her off from the rest of the world. But here she was, in Spike's crushing grip, tasting for herself his need for her in this state of removal. As his hand kneaded the flesh at the back of her neck, Willow knew that to Spike she was nearly divine. In this state, her body was like a fountain of life for him, and her confidence soared at that thought, that she could give something back to him.

She eased away from him, feeling him moan at the loss of contact. But years of teaching could not be completely erased in a span of minutes, and Willow turned to look down at her breasts as she spoke.

"I-I can't say the idea doesn't gross me out--a lot--but I think I understand. Intellectually…menstrual fluids are rich in all kinds of things needed to support a growing human life. I guess, if vampires use blood for nutrients, then…then that would be the kind of blood they'd want." Spike's index finger found it's way under her chin then, and with a bit of gentle pressure he made her look at him.

"You think too much, have I told you that?" She shook her head. "Well I should have. It doesn't matter why it is, or what makes it so, all that matters is that it is."

Suddenly a question that had been gnawing at the back of her mind pushed out from between her lips. "But if that's true, if your story's true, then why do so many vampires kill at all? Why don't they just…just get a…willing girl to…oh, you know!" She pulled her chin away from his fingers as the blush stole over her cheeks again.

Spike only chuckled before recapturing her chin and bringing her up for another kiss, this one soft and alluring. "Like I said, it's a sacred story to vampires, and one definitely not told to fledglings. I first heard the story from Angelus, who heard it from the Master himself. Now that bloke was old, but not nearly as old as some. The old vampires are in Europe and the surround; they're the ones that follow the old ways, blend into human civilization so seamlessly that only another Vampire can tell them apart from the rest. It's the old ones that use the story to their advantage, and they've come up with a few tricks to make it all the more easier.

"Vampire saliva is a very strange thing. It has one very distinct property; it thins the blood. You can't really see them with your naked eye, but our fangs inject saliva into our victims. This cute little trick that the masters use, is they bite their females on a certain set of nerves along their lower spinal column, here lean forward and I'll show you." Willow did without hesitation, and Spike breathed easier knowing she was taking this so well. "Anyway, a Master will bite you there and it's like getting the whole week long process over in a single night. Most of the females think this is a pretty good deal, I'm told. They feed their benefactor for one night and they spend his money for the other twenty-seven. The drawback is it's pretty painful, all that cramping and such, I assume you know what I mean." She nodded. "Well, that was pretty much taken care of when they introduced opium to the scene. Masters give the chits opium and the girls lay there for a night long high that's less embarrassing I guess than the alternative. Though, to a vampire, it's so strange to think of feeding this was as vulgar and not completely erotic." He pulled her forward again, this time kissing his way to the hollow of her throat. "Not embarrassing at all."

Easily aroused during her period anyway, Willow was a tingle with conflicting emotions of need and flight. The way he was touching her, tasting her flesh with his tongue, she couldn't hold back the moans, and that only seemed to fuel him forward. She wasn't delusional, she wanted him, had for a long time now. Willow knew she'd be with him for longer than one lifetime, she'd made that decision on a very bleak night back in Sunnydale. If these were the circumstances she was supposed to lose her virginity under then so be it, she was more than willing. Her dripping hands came out of the water to encircle his neck and instinctively, Spike pulled her half out of the tub and against his chest.

The kisses were hungry and demanding, and for the first time, Willow opened her mouth to receive him. Tongues played together in a litany of attack and surrender. She rubbed her breasts against him, desperate for the contact until his hands found her and molded against her flesh. Willow sighed loudly as his mouth moved down the column of her neck, until his tongue was licking at her collar bone and then lower, to the parts of her that stretched taunt for him to taste.

Her breath caught as the ridges of his demon rubbed against her breasts, but she didn’t care. This was a part of him as much as the mask he wore for her as a human. He was a monster that could love, and Willow was prepared to love him no matter which face he chose to wear.

Her hands held him close to her heart, forcing his mouth where she needed him the most, and he obliged, following her every silent instruction to bring her satisfaction.

And then suddenly, Spike pulled away, his hands dropping away from her body as he forced himself to stand and move across the room, to lean against the counter on the far wall.

For her part, Willow as once again stunned. Had she done something? Did she do something wrong? She hadn't had much experience in this; she and Oz had always been a little too self-conscious. But it hadn't felt wrong, it'd felt right, so very, very right.

Leaning back into the rapidly cooling water, Willow watched the man's back because she could not see his reflection in the mirror. Spike's shoulders were tense, his whole body was tense, and Willow had a pretty good idea why. His head was bent, but she could tell he was watching her watch him, and that slightly unnerved her. She decided to speak first.

"I-I know I didn't do anything wrong, but, would you just say it so I know for sure."

She could almost see him smile. "You didn't do anything wrong, Willow Luv, I'm the bastard in this situation. The last thing you need is for me to shag you three ways to Sunday." Her giggle interrupted him.

Willow watched him turn then, gaze back at her with shock as her giggles turned to full out laughs. When she'd gotten herself under control, she looked up at him and smiled. "I think that might be the only thing I need right now. You shouldn't tease a girl like that, it could get you into trouble someday." It was the complete reversal of sex roles that had kept more than one girl safe from date rape over the years, this time it only served in making Spike flash his notorious evil grin.

But it was only a flash, and then it was gone, replaced by a look that was near self-loathing. "It's a lot to take in all at once Pet, and I don't doubt that you find it all a little…shall we say unappetizing. Besides, the act of the feed is very strong, usually only Masters can resist the need to change a female during the act, a mind goes crazy during the whole thing, a bloodlust unlike any other."

Willow nodded. "It is, well, all kinds of ick for me, but it's obviously a good thing for vampires, and well, you're a vampire, so it's a good thing for you right?" Spike hesitantly nodded. "Well, I want to do a good thing for you. You've done so much for me, and I know as time goes on you'll do a lot more for me too. If-if this is something I can give you, something I can give you back for everyth--"

She wasn't ready for how fast he moved, wasn't prepared for the two fingers that were suddenly blocking her lips from moving. His eyes were slightly pained when she looked. "You don't owe me anything, Willow. Don't ever think that again. I told you once before, you belong to me, and I take care of what's mine. You are mine. I will take care of you, without obligation, or requirements in kind. Please, Willow, for me, don't think that thought again."

She could only nod as he pulled his hand back and stood. "I'll lay out some clothes for you to wear. For both our sakes, the easiest thing is if you do just a few things. First, bath at least twice a day, it'll make it easier for me to be close to you without trying to shag you. Second, wear thick clothes, pants would be better. I'm fighting your scent now, and stop looking like it's something to be ashamed of! It's not as if you smell bad, you smell like a chit in need of a really good shag and it's driving me insane! Help a bloke out, would you Luv? Be merciful?"

And she nodded, forcing herself not to be self-conscious about the pheromones her body was giving off that he could sense.

Then Spike was kneeling at the lip again, this time holding his hand out to her, and suddenly, Willow knew what he was asking for. Without hesitating, she gave him her wrist and then leaned forward, making it easier for him to draw the delicate bit of flesh and bone forward.

He skipped her wrist for a moment as he bent to bring their lips together in the most erotic kiss she'd ever received. "You need time to adjust, and so do I, but when the time is right my love, and it will be right soon, I will claim you as no man could ever claim you, and you will be mine for eternity."

She moaned at his words. Silently he pulled back, before settling her back once again against the side of the tub closest to him. With light kisses, Spike moved from her shoulder, down past her elbow and along her forearm. She moaned again at his gentleness, and then felt a rush of near orgasm as he bit gently into her wrist. There was more pleasure in that act than any other that had come to pass in Willow's short life. Every nerve ending was alive with the feeling of her flesh slowly tearing under the puncturing bite. Her breath came in desperate gasps of air, and she couldn't help but cry out in absolute wanton desire as he softly began a slight suction. Her world focused on him, and she knew he was her world now, her present as much as her future.

Suddenly, one of his hands stole into the water, and his cool fingers quickly found her center. It was the briefest touch, the slightest caress exactly where she needed it, neither intrusive, nor unwanted, and with it came the released of her sudden passion. She cried out his name, calling it over and over as wave after wave of pure bliss fell across her warm body.

She heard him growl a moment later as he released her wrist, and she sighed sadly when his stroking fingers left her as well. Gently, Spike maneuvered her wrist back into the water, and kissed a path from her shoulder to her neck and then invaded her parted lips.

When he pulled back, Willow's eyes were heavy with spent passion. His voice was gentle as he caressed her face. "I will never, ever have enough of you, not even after a thousand lifetimes." He kissed her again, before standing. "Finish. I'll be in the room to help you get dressed. And Willow?" She looked up at him. "It may be sooner than either one of us thought."

As the door closed, Willow sank back into the water and shivered with delight.
 

Willow awoke the next day in their room. She wasn't quite sure when it had become "their" room, but it was now. She sat up, looking around the empty room, trying to find Spike, but he wasn't there. She knew the night before had been hard for him. He'd insisted that she stay the night with him, and though she protested, in the end she curled gratefully around his body.

Willow couldn't believe what had happened yesterday, it didn't quite feel real. She was no stranger to self-fulfillment--no teenage girl was--but she'd never had a partner to help, never really ever imagined anyone would want too. But Spike had, he'd shown her something so beyond her scope that she found herself falling back into bouts of nostalgia to think about the feel of his lips against her writs, or his fingers against her--

Where was, Spike?

Throwing off the covers, Willow hunched over as a flutter of cramps found their way into her back. She stretched, hoping that would help, but knowing in reality that it was pointless. Glancing at the clock, Willow saw that it was far too early for Spike to be awake, only about three in the afternoon.

Worried, but determined not to show it if possible, Willow went to the bathroom to take a quick shower. She was trying her best to respect Spike's wishes, and anything she could do to help was something she absolutely had to do. She'd watched him suffer last night as they sat in the library together. Every now and then, his game face would slip and then he'd be off and into the back part of the library, gone for ten to fifteen minutes before returning. She'd still been shy about the whole thing, asking him softly if he wanted her to try showering again. He knew then what he was doing to her, and he did indeed send her off for a shower, but met her in the bedroom for an early day's sleep.

She remembered all this as she dried off, going back into the bedroom to see if Spike had returned, he hadn't. Resigned to finding him, Willow went to the closet and withdrew another one of Spike's silk shirts, closing her eyes in remembered passion as the fabric caressed her skin, transfixed by the smell of his cologne around the collar.

With bare feet, Willow left the bedroom and walked silently down the long hallway, lit only occasionally by gas scones. She stopped before the top of the stairs to admire a painting of an old looking stained glass window. It took her a moment to justify a painting instead of the real thing--no matter how beautiful it would have been, to a vampire it was one more source of death.

She glided down the stairs, the soles of her feet sinking deeply into the plush carpet.

Willow began with the library, but after finding no sign of Spike, tried his study before moving down the final flight of stairs. In the entranceway, she tried to figure out where to begin. She could search the kitchens, but Spike would never expect her to be up this early, so breakfast wouldn't be on his mind. The ballroom was a likely choice, but something seemed strange about that, as if it just wasn't a place for him to go. Spike would have wanted to surround himself with something, to take comfort in feeling completely encased without really being trapped.

Then suddenly, she knew where he was.

Her ankle cracked on the last step, sounding an echo throughout the marble entranceway. She resisted a giggle, and instead resumed her silent walk down the hallway and to the left.

Steam rose and collected on the glass walls of the built in conservatory. Through the glass, Willow could see the dozens of plant varieties that grew in the greenhouse. Absently, she noted that the set of mirrors that drew sunlight from outside were down, leaving the room in darkness. Without stopping to consider the flowers any further, Willow opened the door and stepped inside.

The air was thick with humidity, and her skin felt damp and muggy against the silk shirt, but the heat was good for her back, and she stretched languidly, her hands raising above her head in relief.

A thin stone path cut between the plant life, and Willow knew a small pond containing goldfish was in the center were a small fountain stood. She walked that way, mindful of the stones beneath her naked feet. A few branches of a broad leafed plant hung in her way across the path, and Willow gently pushed them aside to reveal the fountain, and the hunched form of Spike.

He was seated on one of the benches, his back hunched over his knees as his face rested in the palms of his hands. He was dressed in a black silk shirt and a pair of tan pants that were in a style a century old; but his feet were bare, and his hair looked tousled from his restless night's sleep. He looked innocent like that, nothing like the killer she knew him to be, and she knew why, knew he was fighting his demon even now, struggling with the feel and scent of her on the very air she stood in.

Silently she cursed herself, how could she have come here, it was likely the only place that wasn't permeated with this scent that drove male vampires insane. Spike was probably looking for a few minutes peace, and here she was, disrupting even this solitude.

Those thoughts lasted for about ten seconds. In their wake was a series of thoughts so much more powerful than the last. She belonged here! She belonged next to him, with him, no matter what state her body was in. He had no right to push her away, to try and hide from her. This was not his burden to bear, it was theirs, together, and more than that, it was a burden neither had to bear.

Spike had wanted to spare her modesty, to give her time to adjust to the things that had happened to her and the things she'd learned. Yes she'd tried to have Spike kill her, yes she'd tried to hurt herself to stop the pain, yes she'd done it twice, yes she'd revealed a secret that even now haunted her memory; but she was not weak, not anymore. His love and kindness had made her stronger. His desire for her had strengthened her will to live, for as long as he let her, until Spike joined them together in eternity. She knew the whole of her life had been bringing her to this point, this very moment; and she knew, exactly, what she wanted.

Unconsciously, her shoulders squared, her back strengthening, as she walked slowly towards the hunched figure on the bench. Spike didn't look up as she approached, and it was with a mental slap on the forehead and a congratulatory slap on the back that she realized she was wearing only the black shirt, and not a damn thing else.

Willow could easily see him struggling to control himself. His body was tense, his muscles shaking slightly from the effort to maintain control. Spike had told her last night that the second day was always the worst, the third just slightly better. To think of him as suffering even more than he had yesterday, it was more than Willow was willing to stand.

Her delicate fingers came up to just barely touch the outside of his hand, and his face shot up instantly, his eyes golden in the misty light.

"I woke up and you weren't there. What happened?" She watched him struggle with the demon, saw the ridges of his face flicker across his features, his eyes dilating as she moved her fingers to touch firmly to his cheek.

He tried to turn away from her, tried to hide the struggle raging inside his body; Willow only opened her palm to lay against his cheek, keeping him in place. "What happened?"

A smile that could only be considered painful fell across Spike's face, and Willow could see the beads of sweat from his struggles forming on his brow. "Nothing, Pet. Everything's fine. W-why don't you run upstairs and get ready for the day." He gulped, she saw the apple of his throat move in response to his suffering. "You know, grab a shower and throw some…more clothes on." He was failing and he knew it, worse, he knew she knew it as well.

Spike was hurting, he was in pain, and so was she; this had to stop now.

Her hands came up to cradle his face, her fingers brushing against his cheekbones, the pads of her thumbs caressing his eyelids. Slowly, softly, she worked her hands over his face, smoothing back his hair, touching him while he was too enthralled to protest.

Enthralled he was. Spikes eyes were already golden, but a dull look of distance was in them, and it took Willow a moment to realize it was an almost drug like pleasure.

Empowered by her own dedication, and the sudden look in Spike's eyes, Willow took a step forward, felt Spike spread his knees to accommodate her legs, felt his firm fingers digging almost instantly into her hips.

As she looked into his eyes, she could see the war behind the golden spheres. Spike was fighting to remain in control. She had no desire for him to ever lose control, in fact the very idea frightened her. Willow knew Spike would have to be thinking, but now was still the time to get him off balance.

Bending at the knees, Willow pushed her body forward until the peaks of her breasts were pushed forcefully against Spike, the force seeming to push him backwards on the bench. Her mouth hovered only inches from his lips as she spoke. "I just took a shower not five minutes ago. This thing you're trying to do, Spike, it isn't going to work, and I don't want it to. I am yours, I have been since the moment you saw me in that park. I'm not doing this because I owe you anything; it's your job to take care of me, you promised me you would. But that goes both ways, Spike. This is something I can do for you, let me do this for you, for us. I can't stand to see you like this." Then with as much speed and force as she could, Willow kissed him, crushing her mouth to his in an act that could only be considered brutal and demanding.

It was enough. With a growl so loud it rumbled past Willow's own chest pressed against Spike's, the vampire's grip about her hips shifted and he was slamming her body against his, pulling her into his body as far as physicality would allow. His grip was almost punishing, hurting her for making him want her so much, for making him do this, but she tempered it with the soft caresses of her hands against his back, along the ridges of his face. His hands wound into her hair, forcing her head back with a strong tug that hurt far worse than she let on. Fangs grazed her neck but did not puncture, while his skilled tongue soothed the angry scratches left behind.

The heady mixture of pain and pleasure had Willow panting, and her hands became useless except as anchors to the tense biceps of her captor and soon to be lover. Spike's growls became lower, the sound more of a vibration than an actual tone. His mouth found her breast, and Willow moaned loudly at his skill. A sharp sting caught her attention, and she cried out as his fangs punctured her nipple, the warm feeling of pooling blood causing Willow's world to dim for a moment.

And then, it was as if she were his mother, only in a near reverse. Spike's arms flashed under her legs, and before she knew what was happening she was laying across his lap, his hand supporting her as his head bent over to suckle from her dripping breast. And the sensation, the erotic, sensual, sensation of a full grown man doing this to her, drawing life from her in this way, had her crying out as the beautiful tension filled her lower body, making her arch into his mouth.

With every pull on her breast, with every caress of his tongue to stimulate the blood to flow, Willow felt the crest of absolute fulfillment rise in her, until she was begging with body and voice for release, calling his name over and over in some plea for mercy. She wanted him, needed him, there was no denying it, no point in pushing it aside for later, it was now, the present, this very moment; and Spike obliged.

Again his cool fingers--warmer now for the blood he'd taken from her--stole under the tails of her borrowed silk. With skilled ease he found what she needed, and with one final pull on her breast, and a firm caress of his fingers, she was complete. She screamed, the sound vibrating throughout the glass room, shaking the windows and disturbing the plant life. The sound was soul deep and powerful, filled with satisfaction that comes only from the deepest fulfillment. Exhausted tears drifted slowly from her eyes as Spike's mouth continued its assault, and his fingers returned to haunt her just as she thought her body had achieved blissful peace.

Trembling against him, Willow used all her remaining strength to wrap her arms about his neck, to pull him even more firmly against her so that this contact, this sweet, sweet torture would not end. Her fingers wound idly into his short hair, until Spike's fingers made her forget what they'd been doing.

How long this continued, Willow did not know. She was sated and well loved, feeling warm and languid now as Spike's fingers were less of an instrument to her insanity and more a comfort which she spread her knees wide to welcome. His mouth continued to work her body, and she sighed at this feeling, this blissful feeling of completeness with a vampire, with a man.

Eventually, she knew things had to stop, and it was with her deepest regret that she spoke softly to him, her fingers working lightly at the back of his neck. "Spike, oh Spike, you have to stop now. There's more but you have to stop this now."

Slowly, over the course of nearly ten minutes, Spike worked his way back to her, fighting his demon for control as he lifted his head, his tongue licking the slight tinge of blood off his lips. Willow didn't look down at herself. Spike had never even removed her shirt and she knew if she looked the shock of her blood soaked chest might manage to send her into a light panic.

Instead she focused on Spike's eyes, and when the look of near desperate guilt came into them, she spoke again. "I'm ready to finish this, and I want you to stop feeling guilty right now. I knew what I was doing, knew that something like this would happen. I won't say that I'm not scared, I won't lie to you, but you need this, we need this. I'm no expert on vampire bonds, but I understand how powerful blood is to you, I accept that about you, and I accept that about my future self as well. I trust you to stay in control now, as a Master, as my future mate, to keep from turning me. I trust you to keep all your promises to me. I love you, and I want to give this gift to you." Leaning forward, Willow kissed him, her tongue tasting her own blood on his lips--the taste did not disgust her as it once might have.

Spike was breathing hard, forcing air into long dead lungs out of some deeply engrained directive. "Willow…you don't know what you're asking."

Suddenly, firm hands wrapped about Spike's face, forcing him to look into the dilated ones of his desire. "I know exactly what I'm asking, and you know exactly what I'm giving. If you can't do it for yourself, then do it for me, do it because I can't stand to see you like this." And she kissed him again, throwing all of her desperation into the touch of her lips.

It was the last bit of resistance Spike had left. On legs coursing with the power of virgin blood, Spike stood and lifted Willow with him, barely taking his eyes from hers as he navigated his way out of the conservatory and up the wide stairs to the second floor.

He swept them both into his study by the library, placing Willow on top of the desk and kissing her passionately, before pulling away and nearly ripping a painting from the wall. Behind the frame stood a wall safe, and with only a few turns, Spike had it opened. His fingers were nibble, and in seconds he had what he needed tucked into his shirt pocket before going back to the table to collect Willow.

She kissed the column of his neck on the way up the last stairs, adding her own marks in the form of light bruises that in some way made her feel as if he now belonged completely to her. She never saw him shut off the gas to the lights, never even noticed when they fell into complete darkness. All that mattered, all she needed was here in her arms, the rest of the world could disappear and she'd never know nor care.

Once in the master bedroom, Spike shut and locked the door. He walked to the bathroom door and set her on her feet. His instructions were crystal clear. "Take it out and get rid of the shirt." Nearly vibrating with need, Willow moved to the toilet and pulled haphazardly on the string before flushing and ripping the shirt off, tearing the fabric in her haste.

And then she was back, his arms wrapping around her again to lift her into the air. He moved to the bed, crawling on his knees across it until he could place her in the middle of its wide expanse.

She fought every instinct she had not to cover her body, not to shake with fear instead of need. But ever the vigilant lover, Spike noticed, and calmed himself down to caress her body softly in preparation. When he spoke it was to ease her fears.

"In a few moment's I’m going to take your arm and tie a tourniquet around it, here. I'll tap the inside of your elbow to raise a vein. I told you, this process is considered painful, but a heavy dose of morphine should take care of most of it. Once the drugs take, I'll roll you to your side and then puncture a set of nerves at your lower back where I showed you last night. It'll take a little while, but you'll know when it starts working. Then I'll drink from you, and I swear it to you, my Red Queen, you will only feel pleasure." Leaning forward he kissed her soundly, caressing her stomach as the chill of fear crept into her bones. "I love you, Willow."

"I-I love you too, Spike."

The tourniquet was placed then, and Willow watched in fascination as Spike plunged the needle into the stopper, extracting an exact amount of clear liquid.

"H-how do you know how much to give me?"

He smiled, a slow soft smile. "Angelus used to be an addict, completely dependent on the stuff during the last two decades of the nineteenth century. He had a bitch of a time kicking it." He licked the inside of her elbow before gently and painlessly inserting the needle and delivering the drug.

Willow had never in her life done drugs before and she said as much. Spike chuckled as he slipped the needle from her arm and released the tourniquet. "You're not missing much. Angelus was a bigger poof than he was as Angel when he was high. Used to wear the dumbest things you've ever seen; put on one of Dru's corsets once and walked around the house scaring the servants."

"How di-did he kick the habit?" She asked, her limbs still shaking.

Spike hesitated, his eyes going dark for a moment. "I locked him in the cellar for two months. For two months he fed from me and me alone, and for two months he took out his rage on me. It was alright though, worth it in the end to have him back." Suddenly Spike's lips closed, as if he'd said more than he wanted to ever say again. "Not important, Luv. Tell me when the world goes a little topsy-turvy on you."

She could tell he was more in control. His eyes had remained a clear blue since she'd returned from the bathroom, and she thought her blood already in his veins must have helped with that at least a little.

Willow didn't notice the first hit of the drug to her system, but Spike knew it from her next statement.

"I'm scared."

Sitting back, Spike brushed a few stray hairs from Willow's check. "It's alright to be scared, it's a scary thing. I doubt you'll feel so scared in a few minutes, but until then, just try to relax. I love you. You're the most beautiful woman I've ever met, both inside and out." He lifted her hand, kissing her palm until she sighed, her eyes rolling slightly up as the drug now slammed home to her system.

He allowed her to bask in the high for a moment, knowing that with the pain she'd be only slightly buzzed. He'd purposefully given her a bit too much, but she'd be fine in the morning.

Spike couldn't express in words what this gift meant to him. It was an act of trust so final from Willow, that he knew that after this there would be no more retreats to childhood. Come tomorrow night, she'd be completely woman, his woman, and he couldn't prevent the growl of possessiveness he gave off at the thought.

He was startled a bit when she giggled. "You're all, grrrrrr! You're so cute when you do that." Willow giggled again.

Leaning down, Spike kissed her softly. "Ok, Willow, I want you to roll to your side now, you'll be alright, I'll make sure you don't roll off the bed." She giggled again, but rolled to her left as he gently positioned her to curve the lower part of her back. "Now hold really, still, Luvie. This is going to hurt, but I want you to breath through it, I promise I'll make it up to you."

"OK, Spikey!"

Cringing at the nickname, but entrance with her playful behavior, Spike fell into game face and allowed his demon to assume control. With minimal difficulty he found the small bundle of nerves by her bottom three vertebra. The ancient Chinese long knew of a similar trick using acupuncture, this was only slightly more barbaric.

Not stopping to warn her further, he struck. Lightening fast, his left fang punctured the ridge of her spin and he listened in a grip of sympathy, to the sound of Willow crying out in pain. His right hand held her hips still while his left kept her from scooting away while his own fluids pumped into her system.

When the sound of Willow's tears were more than he could stand, he withdrew, slicing his tongue to stop the blood, then licking it way to disinfect.

"There now, Luvie. You were so brave. I'm so proud of you." She sniffled as he gently rolled her onto her back. "I'm so sorry I had to hurt you, Willow, but I promise, in just a minute I'll make you forget all about it, I promise. Don't I keep all my promises?" He watched her nod tearfully. "Good girl. That's my girl," and he gently brushed the tears aside.

He watched her silently then, saw her eyes drift in the throws of a first time fix. She moaned soundlessly, a mixture of fear and the still desperate hum of her body's need for his. Gloriously naked before him, Spike had the first real opportunity to examine his prize with the critical eye of a painter.

Long straight hair the color of first drawn blood fanned out around a pixyish face with wide green eyes. Her lips were kissable, neither overly full nor too thin. The column of her neck was long and lean, meeting with visible collar bones that only enhanced the beauty of her perfectly shaped pert breasts. Her stomach was nearly flat, and on her back, she seemed even more thin than usual. Wide hips completed an hourglass figure that was at once alluring to a man born in the eighteenth century. Long thin legs tapered to delicate feet that seemed almost a little too small to support her five foot five inch figure. In a word, Willow was perfect.

But there was the briefest in draw of breath, and Spike watched the first signs of discomfort flitter across Willow's features. Instantly he bent to comfort her. "Everything's fine, Luvie. You're doing wonderfully. Turn your head now, that's it. I want you watch the fire for a little while. Just focus on it like you told me you do when you pray to the Goddess. Keep your eyes focused right there, Willow. Your hands, your arms, legs, they can do whatever you want, whatever they need to, but I want you to keep your eyes right there. Will you do that for me, Willow? Will you look right there for me?"

From this angle above her, he could see the firelight dancing in the green depths of her eyes. Hesitantly, she nodded her head, the discomfort clearing some of the Morphine haze. One frightened hand reached for his blindly, and he took it, squeezing before laying it to rest across her stomach.

"If you ever want me to stop, Willow, just say, 'stop', and I will, I promise you. I'm going to take care of you. I love you…so much."

"I love you too, Spike, I love you too."

Doing his best not to startle her, Spike slid his right hand from the mattress onto her left hip and across her stomach to her right side. With both hands on her hips, he moved, careful to go slowly so that she could sense his movements before he arrived. She jumped as he set his right knee on top of her two locked one, his need understood from the slight pressure he placed there. He watched her body quake once before her knees slowly unlocked, and with gentle insistence, he put his own knee between hers.

His blood warmed hands glided down over Willow's hips, over her thighs before gently cupping her knees, slowly pulling them further apart as she continued to quake, her breathing desperate.

He wanted to sooth her, to comfort the fear she was feeling at her first true intimate act, but the separation of her legs brought the overwhelming scent of blood to him, and it was all he could do to keep from ravaging her.

Mindful of his own instantaneous erection, Spike lowered his body closer to the bed, so that his hands were once again resting on Willow's hips. With a gentle nudge and a lifting from her seat, she was open to him, the natural curve of her body acting like a waiting saucer, refilling with every contraction of her body.

It was more than he could stand. His face shifted completely, his demon demanding he take her now, make her his in every way a vampire could claim a female. It was a call of his nature, and one he could not resist. With a slow and savoring swipe, he tasted the essence of his Queen and did not stop until there was nothing more to take.
 

The warm feeling of water surrounding her body woke Willow up with a start. Her eyes struggled between being heavy with sleep, and the need to become alert. Realizing she was surrounded by water, Willow began to struggle, overcome with the sensation.

"Shhh, Luv, it's alright, just a bath to clean up." Shivers overcame her body as Spike spoke from behind her, directly into her ear, his lips brushing against her lobe.

Closing her eyes, she relaxed into Spike's embrace. She felt arms she hadn't noticed wrap about her waist, thumbs idly brushing the underside of her breasts. Sighing she nuzzled under Spike's chin, more than content when she felt his lips move to brush the side of her neck.

"How're you feeling, Willow?"

For a moment she was perplexed. Of course she felt wonderful, like she was floating on air. She had Spike with her, wrapped about her body, so that she could feel his powerful legs on either side of her own, enfolding her, keeping her safe. She was warm and happy, and very, very satisfied.

And then she remembered.

"Oh my god!" Sitting up, she pulled away from Spike's arms, but wasn't able to escape his vampire reflexes as he pulled her back against his chest, one hand between her breasts, the other against her stomach, holding her close. She struggled against him, embarrassment colored with a mixture of so many other conflicting emotions she couldn't hope to reason them all out. But Spike held strong, refusing to let her go and eventually she grew tired, her body finally giving out and falling against his, her face hidden in his shoulder. Strong fingers wound their way though her hair, gently massaging her scalp, easing the tension from her shoulders.

"Finished now, Pet?" Willow didn't say anything, only rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. "There now, Luvie, no more struggling. You're all right, now. The morphine's all worn off and you're probably exhausted even though you slept through most of it…well, slept might be too strong, more like fainted."

At the word fainted, she pulled back and looked into his blue eyes, noting that his breath smelled like peppermint which must have been for her benefit. "I…fainted?"

Spike's face instantly changed, his expression going carnal. "Might have been a bit much for you Red, all that--" With lightning reflexes, Spike struck, his mouth claiming Willow's in a bruising kiss that spoke of instant dominance and a passion not nearly sated. His tongue fought against her weak defenses to plunder her mouth, forcing hers into complete submission. For a moment she was half frightened by his forcefulness, but some part of Willow understood that Spike needed this, needed to dominate her for just a little while before he could calm himself down. He was after all a vampire, and as she was only human, she knew he was being quite gentle with her. After what seemed forever, Spike pulled back, his tongue running over her bottom lip one final time. His voice was seductive as he ended his previous sentence, "Sexual stimulation."

Through the haze of drugs and something far older, Willow fought to capture the images that floated around her mind. She remembered clearly everything up until the needle pierced her arm. After that, the images became blurry, but she thought she heard the sound of heavy breathing, of loud moans that turned into screams that seemed to form a word she couldn't identify. She remembered the light of the fire, the dancing of the flames, the sound of the popping wood, and that muffled screaming again. Then another memory of the darkness--a flash of skin--maybe her arm.

And then suddenly, it was as if she were looking down at herself from outside her body. She saw herself spread out across the bed, her knees wide and bent, Spike's hands holding them to the bed as they shook and struggled for purchase. She saw her hands fisted into the comforter, her breasts large as they arched with her back, her head thrown back into the pillows, her eyes so wide she could see the near black green they had become. But just as the memory was from out of body, she briefly understood that it was little more than her reflection in the mirror that hung upon the ceiling over the bed. It was then she sensed the change, she saw Spike's head at her center, notice for the first time that she was watching him drink from her, before she saw his head come up, his game face towards her. Then suddenly he returned, his lips to her body, and she began to scream.

Her body lashed from side to side, her head thrown back so that the reflection shifted so quickly she could barely understand it. The screaming was forever, the sound so full of emotional release that it was impossible to mistake it for anything other than what it was--his name, she was screaming his name in released passion so pure and immodest that it scorched her soul. The sound, his name, his touch, his body, tongue, mouth, touching her, tasting her, overwhelming her; and her eyes as she saw them through the mirror, the total and utter abandonment of all her senses to this one male. Her eyes told the whole truth, on that bed, in the firelight of that room, her soul had become his, to own and to possess as he willed it. As her mind rushed back to the present, to her body now cocooned by water and Spike's blood warmed heat, she knew that tonight, she'd give him her body as well. Before the night was over, he would possess everything she had to offer him, including her innocence.

Her breath quickened in her chest, her body tingling with her now resolved heart. Carefully, she turned to him, her face looking up into those fathomless blue eyes that captivated her, holding her tongue prisoner so that she couldn't even speak to tell him what she wanted.

She didn't have too, he already knew.

Willow knew he allowed her to make the first move, knew he wanted to and yet held back as much for her peace of mind as to allow his demon to feel her strength. Shifting her hips she felt for the first time the deep ache that the warm water was slowly relieving. She didn't have to move further to know she was tender, raw from a night of minute fang lacerations and Spike's insistent tongue. Briefly she shivered at a sudden memory of his touch, and she knew when she next looked into his eyes that he understood, and wanted her even more for that understanding.

Her arm broke the water's surface slowly, and even though the bathroom air was warm from the tub, she still felt the coolness of the air as she wrapped her arm around Spike's neck and shifted her hips to slide her knees around his thighs. His arousal was stiff against her stomach, and she knew her eyes were wide at her discovery. His smirk told her everything she needed to know, but she held her ground against her nervous embarrassment. Spike was teasing her, giving her as much control as he was willing to let her have. She knew, she understood, and she accepted.

Her fingers brushed the back of his neck and she watched his eyes golden for a moment in satisfaction. He was hers as much as she was his.

Willow's voice was timid when she spoke, but it was a cover, she already knew the answer. "Did everything go…alright, last night?"

Spike nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "Went fine. How much do you remember?"

She closed her eyes against a sudden flash of memory, of his strong hands against her hips, holding her body to the mattress. "Enough." She shifted, her head tipping under his, her mouth delivering a kiss to the underside of his chin. "I remember enough."

The growl she remembered from last night emanated from Spike's chest, vibrating through her body pressed tightly against him. Her body's response was immediate, as if in the period of one night she'd been trained to understand that vampire call. Liquid fire rushed down her body to pool in that place deep inside her, a smoldering that fanned out and demanded her attention.

She didn't know her chest constricted, didn't know her body had whimpered in response to his call. All Willow knew, all she cared about, was that the man she loved was before her, and she was ready, ready to end this power struggle between them. Willow Rosenburg was prepared to submit, completely, to the call of her chosen mate.

She moved one hand down his neck, resting it against his chest, over the place that once held a beating heart. Slowly, her fingers stroked, as if seeking to revive that heartbeat.

When his hands suddenly surged out of the water, when his fingers wrapped painfully around her upper arm, his fingernails unwittingly biting into her flesh, she'd been ready; she knew what was expected of her. How she knew she didn't know, but it was as if it were engrained in her soul, as if she'd known all along that this was how it would end.

"You're mine, Willow!" Came the guttural growl of something all together not human. "Mine until the end of time, do you understand that?! Do you?!" His grip increased, and the flesh about her arms began to bruise against the abuse. But she was silent, and instead of words, she raised her head, forcing her eyes to meet his which were now the color of black gold.

With her eyes she submitted to him; with her gaze she gave herself to him for eternity. One century to the next--time didn't matter. This moment was stronger than time, stronger than god, stronger than death, it was the beginning of everything, and the end of everything else.

Something deep inside her told her to remain silent, even when Spike grew angry, even when he forced her body half way out of the water and shook her, her long hair whipping about her, the muscles of her arms grinding against bone to make her cry out, and still she did not answer with words, only her eyes spoke.

"No one will ever have you but me, Willow! No man, no woman that I do not choose will ever touch you again! You're body belongs to me; everything that was once you now belongs to me! My word is law, my voice gospel! Disobey me and I will punish you, please me and I will lavish upon you more than you ever imagined possible! When I choose I will bring you across, I will make you my queen, and until then, you will obey me, do you understand?!" His beautiful poets face had slipped, replaced by the mask of the demon which was more than fitting because Willow knew that it was the demon housed within that spoke now, that commanded. Fangs bared, golden eyes boring into her own, Willow did the only thing she knew would earn the respect of the demon, she told it with her eyes that she was his, and kept her lips silent. She would never bind herself to this agreement, never willingly give herself away completely, not in word, but her eyes spoke the truth, her eyes were the windows to her heart.

And then suddenly, the demon let her go. Willow's unsupported body splashed back into the tub, sending a wave of water cascading over the side to slide across the marble floor. Beneath the water's surface her arms burned from the abuse, and her body instinctively began to shake with reaction--but she was not afraid, she'd just won.

The voice that spoke next was the combination of something timeless and indistinguishable between good and evil, maintaining only the need for survival beyond her understanding. "She does not break." And then, "I approve."

It would have been so much easier for Willow to think that the demon and Spike were two separate beings, but they weren't, they were one, sharing the same body, and the same mind. Though the part of Spike that retained little humanity and only an instinctual drive to survive had just damaged her body, the part that had once been a poet was in complete tandem with it--they were one.

"Willow?" She looked up into clear blue eyes again, offering a weak smile as she tried to rub the pain out of her arms. "You did so good, baby, so good." Gently, mindful of her arms, he pulled her back against his body, letting her cheek rest against his chest as she recovered from the ordeal. Softly his words drifted to her, lulling her tired body into a trance like state.

"The demon is as much the vampire, as the vampire is the demon; both demon and vampire are bound. At the same time, they're different, with the same drives only different ways of achieving those desires. It's like two individuals going after the same thing, using different means of getting it. I never want to hurt you, Willow, and I'm so proud of you for being strong. Things are going to be fine for us now, I promise. You're mine now, Willow; I'll take care of you for the rest of your existence, I take care of what's mine."

Awake, she felt him removed the dried blood that stubbornly held out against the water. She allowed him to move her like a rag doll as he washed her hair, then scrubbed her body lightly. She sat passively on the edge of the tub as he dried her off before rubbing cooling lotion on her parched skin. She held him around the neck as he took her back into the bedroom, as he sat them down on the rug before the fire, both naked and damp, as he meticulously brushed out the knots in her hair, allowing the fire to dry their skin. Willow was silent and unresponsive for all of these actions, allowing her soon to be lover to pamper her, to care for her, to love her.

Finally, the last knot yielded under the ministrations of the brush, and she knew her hair gleamed in the orange firelight. Against the soft bearskin she sat upon, Willow turned around, her eyes seeking the cool blue of her love's. Shifting so that her knees were beneath her, Willow knelt before Spike, the glory of her body highlighted and shadowed by the golden flames.

Her movements were slow but not hesitant, there was no reservation left in her now, only a need to complete what was started long ago, back in Sunnydale on a warm summer night. One delicate hand rose to a warm chiseled cheek, and she allowed her fingers to caress there before moving to brush an invisible strand of hair behind his ear; her fingers trailing down his neck to rest against his chest, where his heart once beat. Her other hand moved then, seeking his before taking his strong wrist and bringing the palm of his hand to rest against her cheek. For a moment she held it there, before dropping it away, leaving Spike's fingers to caress her face before sliding down to curve around the back of her neck.

Her eyes had never left his, and in this moment, this last true moment, Willow offered her love a smile.

"So that everyone will know who I belong to," and she slowly and carefully tilted her head to the side, exposing her throat.

His nod was slow and sensual, his eyes telling her he understood her sacrifice, that he knew what she was offering him, and that he accepted the unspoken truth--that the burden of responsibility would no longer be hers once he moved into the cradle of her neck. His eyes dropped to her throat, and Willow leaned her body into his at his gentle pull. One warm hand moved to her hip, only to slide up her side to hold her steadily at her lower back.

She felt his kiss over her jugular, felt the vibrations of his voice more than she heard the words. "I love you, Willow; my mate, and my queen." In her own response, she brushed her lips against his neck.

His face shifted then, and she felt the sharp graze of his fangs as he opened his mouth about that bit of flesh. Closing her eyes she unconsciously stretched her neck further, willingly accepting his mark of possession.

The strike was severe and true. His fangs tore through skin and muscle to pierce the very flow of her life. The pain was intense, stabbing quickly, shooting through her entire being before completely dying away into oblivion as he drew the first mouthful of life from her.

Ecstasy as she'd never known it shuddered through her body, wracking her with an instant orgasm that forced the tips of her nails deeply into the flesh of his neck and chest. She screamed, lifting her body with her knees, pushing against the exquisite pleasure that burned itself throughout her entire being. She cried his name over and over, screamed and screamed the name of her mate, her one true love.

It seemed as if it lasted for hours, as her body pulled taunt as a bowstring humming from the strain. In reality it was quick, her body already too low on blood from the last few days of lustful feeding. Three long pulls were all he took, three mouthfuls of life that sealed her forever as his, and marked her eternally as the mate to a Master.

Carefully he licked the wound, feeling the puckered flesh of his mark before slicing his tongue and allowing a few precious drops of their mingled blood to seal the open wounds. In his arms she was still taunt, still crying out his name, her hands still ripping into his flesh. He held her as the rush faded, leaving her breathless and needing. He watched her head fall backwards, exposing her neck as her breasts and abs were exposed to him in the firelight.

She was porcelain perfection, as the heat in her body flushed her skin, making her rosy and alive. Her chest rose and fell with deep painful gasps of breath that were only just beginning to slow. Soothingly he ran his hand over her sweating face, brushing the perspiration back towards her still damp hair. She mewed into his touch, begging with sound that her body did not consciously make for him to continue.

That sound, that unconscious call of need from one mate to another. They weren't perfectly bonded yet, for that she'd need to become a vampire, but his demon had accepted her, and so it responded instinctually to her cries, to her desires.

Leaning forward he licked from the valley of her breasts up the column of her neck and to her chin, pulling her forward then before plundering her mouth. Her senses were still returning to her, so her responses were weak, and in her weakness, he took control, sweeping his tongue across hers as she fought her exhaustion to respond.

Her body whimpered again, and his demon answered with a growl of dominance that quickly morphed into action. As if lifting a doll, Spike stood, carrying Willow's hanging body to the bed before laying her across the newly changed sheets; watching as her white skin was surrounded by the midnight satin. Her body was ripe, her breasts full, her lips swollen, her legs parted--a silent invitation.

Spike's hands moved to her hair, brushing out the strands so they fanned out about her head. Soon, as her body rested, her hair was laid out, starburst around her in a hallo of red gold. His hands continued their soothing gestures, tracing the lines of her face, running lightly over the column of her torso, caressing down her thighs.

Eventually, her eyes drifted open, their green depths swimming in a euphoria of sensation. Slowly she reached for him, pulling him by the shoulders until he was half draped over her body, before running her hands into his hair and bringing his mouth down to take hers.

The kiss was just as slow, loving, conveying that the hardships were now over, that only security and love remained. His hands found her breasts, and lightly he touched her, aware that her body had suffered greatly these last few nights and he needed to be gentle with her. Quietly she moaned, arching into his touch, pulling her hands to encircle his biceps, holding him to her. Her mouth fought back, her tongue taking the initiative to invade his, to slip past his full lips.

As their mouths worked together, Willow's hands become more insistent, her whines more vocal, less about vibration and more about sound. She was needing, so completely ready for him that her body sang with desire, shook with unreleased passion.

With effort he dragged his mouth from hers, but wasn't able to stop himself from licking at his mark upon her throat. But that last move was too much, too much strain on a body that had never experienced this type of torturous passion.

Spike pulled back at the sound of Willow's sob. Tears of frustration dropped from her eyes, and he growled deep in his chest at their sight, eliciting another sob from his mate.

"Willow, Luv?"

"Please…oh please…please, please…" She didn't know what she was saying anymore, too blinded by this fierce and total ache in her body. He'd never intended to make her beg, and it destroyed him to see her so--to look upon her face and see the pain she was in.

"Shhhshhhh, Willow, my love, shhhhh. Spike's going to take care of you. I'm so sorry, baby. Just breath for me, Red, breath deep, I'll make it stop hurting real soon." She continued to whimper, but he saw her understanding through the haze in her eyes.

He moved swiftly, shifting the full weight of his body against Willow's to let her know he hadn't left her. She cried out at the contact, her senses beyond overloaded as she pressed her hips repeatedly against him, seeking pressure where she needed it most. He cooed to her softly, trying to calm her down with his voice alone, but she was too far gone, too far beyond the point of simple reason.

Cautiously, he positioned himself, mindful to keep the stimulus to a minimum, lest she hurt herself during the first true thrust of a male body. One hand held her hip down and while he tried to be gentle, he knew he was bruising her flesh as she pressed wildly up against him. She'd ache tomorrow from the numerous bruises and lacerations, but that was tomorrow, and this was now.

"I love you, Willow."

"Spike!"

Then with one powerful shift of his hips, he brought them together. She cried out from the pleasure, the completion, the overwhelming sense that they were finally and truly one being. She was too hot, too ready for him already to bother with a need for time, all that was required was the delicious friction, and so he gave it to her.

Each thrust was more demanding than the last, each withdraw more heart wrenching. Her legs wrapped about his hips in a crushing need to bring him closer, drive him deeper, to make that tug and slide more enduring. With every move her cries got louder until she was sobbing for him to help her to finish this game they'd begun in that hateful town.

The tempo increased, while her cries continued to drive him insane, forcing him to fulfill the call of his mate for completion. His mouth sought out her breast, his teeth just grazing the nipple.

Then he felt it, the flutter of her inner walls, the feel of her body holding onto his and refusing under any circumstance to let him go without a fight. Her soft sobs abruptly changed to wild keening, as her back arched up, her body supported by her head and neck as she screamed his name.

"SPIKE!"

It was his name on her lips, her sweet voice calling it for the world to hear, for the world to know who had brought her this divine pleasure. It caught him almost completely off guard, his seed erupting from his body to fill hers.

He caught himself before he crushed her, his ears picking up the shuddering repetition of his name as Willow came down from her high. His body still locked intimately with hers, he rolled, bringing her atop him, her knees sliding around his hips to keep her centered. Little mini tremors shook her, and he tried to sooth her relaxing body by running his hands in all direction across her back.

Slowly, her breathing evened out, until he thought for a moment she might be asleep, too exhausted from everything to maintain consciousness. Then, in a breathy whisper, she spoke.

"Thank you. For everything. For loving me, for claiming me, for making me feel like…this. Thank you, Spike, thank you, William, thank you."

Words were simply lost to him then, and so he just held her, his mate, his lover, his heart, close to his chest, and imagined, that for just one moment as he drifted off to sleep, that the heart in his chest beat one last time for her--his queen.
 

As Willow's mind came back to her, so too did her aches and pains. Inwardly she grimaced, her whole body groaning with her movement. When she finally managed to crack her eyes open, she found herself against Spike's chest. His skin was still slightly warm to the touch, and her cheek felt good against him, as did the rest of her body.

She never knew if it was her movements that awoke him, or if he'd been awake the entire time, just listening to the gentle beating of her sleeping heart. His fingers took her slightly off guard as they came to run carefully though her hair, stopping at the first hint of a knot, knowing it was not something he could work though without causing her pain.

His touch was still electric, still inspiring of all things that were great and true in the world. They were lovers now, and Willow felt a sense of relief so profound it threatened to reduce her to tears. They were lovers, she to him and he to her. Bound now in a way that she could feel just under the surface of her skin. It was more than one body to the next, more than demon to human, more than even magic, it was as ageless as time, as boundless as the universe--they were one.

She smiled at that thought.

They were one.

"I love you, Spike." Her voice was quiet; and though she'd slept for a very long time, she was still exhausted, and knew she would be for some time to come. Beneath her, Spike shifted. One leg came between hers until his raised thigh bumped against her in a now arousing and comforting gesture. His hands too delivered a bit more pressure and she sighed as his arms came to wrap about her waist and shoulders, pressing her more firmly against his comfort.

"I love you as well, my Willow."

Closing her eyes against the delicious splendor of it all, she breathed deeply of his skin, knowing a large part of his intoxicating scent had to do with her own body upon his. She nuzzled his chest, hoping to absorb as much of that fragrance as possible, to bind it to her body and his for as long as she could.

Below her came the deep rumbling of a laugh that caused every nerve in her body to fire with warmth and something so much grander. He knew what she was doing, and demonstrated as much by leaning up and smelling deeply from her hair before kissing her shoulder.

"You smell like me, Luv."

She smiled before shaking her head. "No, my Spike, I smell like us." He didn’t laugh this time, only nodded before kissing her shoulder again. A part of her recognized how Drusilla like that sounded, but more than ever before, she now understood.

The vampiress Drusilla, had not been able to separate the world from the bond, for that is all it really was. He was hers, the bond made it so, just as the bond between two Childes would have made Spike and Drusilla belong to one another. She was Spike's and Spike was hers, but in a way she didn't yet, he belonged to those vampires, the two who had lived in this house with him, made love to him as she had only the night before. Spike would always belong to Drusilla and Angelus, and he would always belong to her--and suddenly, that didn't seem wrong or worrisome, only understandable, and even comforting. She had her place with Spike, just as Drusilla and Angelus did. They couldn't take him away from her, and she couldn't take him away from them.

The last thing that had been bothering her, the last little bit of doubt seeped out of her body and vanished into the sigh she gave voice to as she snuggled against him.

They belonged together, forever.

"Spike?" Her eyes were closed again.

"Yes, Luv?"

Willow smiled slightly, her lips brushing his chest as she spoke.

"I'm hungry, my Spike."

* * *

"I don't think I've ever seen anyone eat that much in my entire life--and that's saying quite a bit, Pet."

On his lap Willow giggled. She was shoveling food past her lips almost before she could swallow the last bite, and he mentally shook himself for forgetting to feed her for the last two days.

"I can't help it, I'm starving! You at least got fed." At the reminder of her blood, he shifted his head from her right shoulder to her left, tilting her head with his cheek so he could again taste the twin scars upon her neck. He heard her gasp, new the reaction to the bond was strongest at this point. Against her will her hand came up, clutching the back of his neck, forcing him to continue. He wanted to, gods below he wanted to take her again, claim her over and over until their was not a part of her he did not own, until no demon in any of the countless dimensions would ever dare touch her. He wanted to make love to her again, in the kitchen, in the ball room, the library, the study or bedroom, it didn't matter, nothing mattered but his body inside hers and the look upon her face when she knew it was him, when her eyes were clear and she knew she belonged to him.

He pulled back when he noticed she'd stopped eating. "Come on, Willow, eat up. I know you're still hungry and weak. After this I'll take you into the upstairs parlor and you can get some sun, it'll do you good."

She was weak, so much weaker than she should have been. Her mental exhaustion from before, the blood he'd taken from her, and her lack of nutrition were all depleting her of the energy her body needed to function. She was like a doll in his arms, and though she insisted upon raising the fork to her own lips, it was slow going as the simple movement taxed her strength more than it fed it.

He'd carried her into the bathroom upon her confession this morning and he couldn't help but close his eyes in painful understand of what he'd done to her. She was a litany of bruises. Her arms were ringed in purple and green where he'd gripped her the night before, shaken her to try and force her subservience. There were scratches and bit marks all along her breasts and stomach, and her hips and thighs held even more bruises. Her eyes had been haunted with that vague look that accompanies shock and too much blood loss, and he'd been quick to bath and dress her wounds before bringing her down to breakfast for a taste of food and his blood.

He couldn't give her much, he'd given her enough already to worry him, but her body was in pain, and that was something he refused to stand for. He'd used his own blood to season the oatmeal, knowing to a body as depleted and bonded as hers, she would find it irresistible; and in fact, she'd finished the bowl of oats and sugar before even touching the rest of the meal. She'd perked up after that, but his blood was like liquor to a babe, and she was listless because of it, resigned to most of the things he told her to do. Most.

"But you can't go in there with, and I don't want to go alone. I want to stay with you today, all day long." She leaned her head back, turning to the side so she could kiss his chin, his cheek, before he turned too and their lips met, his tongue stealing out to taste the sugar still clinging to her lips.

When Spike pulled back she was still lost in the kiss. He brushed his lips against her cheek. "I know you want me close, Willow, and I will be. You need some light and the old drawing room is the best place for that."

She shook her head. "Couldn't we just go to a different room? The…library's big enough."

He smiled, lifting the fork from her forgotten fingers and loading it with the last of her breakfast. "It'll only be for a few hours, Willow, that's all there is left of the daylight anyway. Besides," he brought the fork to her lips, and waited for her to take the offering into her mouth. "Besides, you'll fall asleep anyway."

"But--"

"No 'buts', you still need a lot of rest, Willow, and I have a lot of things I need to take care of before you awaken. So you'll take a nap like a good little girl, and let Spike get everything together." He smiled, leaning down to kiss her pouting lips only to hear her giggle delightedly. She was exhausted, and though he had no intention of treating her like a child, for now, he would, at least until she'd gained back her strength--otherwise, he'd forget how fragile she was and make love to her until neither had anything left to give.

"Ok, but can we go to the library first? I want to grab a book in case I can't sleep." He nodded, rising and lifting her into his arms before leaving the kitchen and ascending the first flight of stairs.

In the library, he set her down on the couch before claiming the book she'd craved. Then once again, he lifted her up and took her the rest of the way to the sunroom. Stopping outside the door, he kissed her gently before setting her on her feet, bracing her when she swayed.

"Just go in there and rest for a while. I promise that the moment the sun sets I'll come back for you and we'll go back down to the library and read together, alright?"

Her smile lit up her face--the entire dark and dreary world he'd lived in since his very birth--she was light and breath, she was blood and warmth. She was everything to him, and he worshiped her. This slip of a girl was worth more to him than his entire existence, more than all the power he'd ever craved. It wasn't just her beauty or her mind, it was her essence…or perhaps Willow had said it best herself.

She was his mass.

Willow looked down at her feet before returning her gaze to his eyes. "Do you think…when you come for me…do you think we could go to the ballroom and dance for a little while? I know I'm weak, I can feel it. But if you just carried me, held me for a while, I'd really like that. I," she brought her hand to his chest, to a button on the seam. "I'd like it if we could be close like that. I-I know I'm too tired, too…well," she blushed. "To do what we'd really like to do after my nap, but if we danced together--that'd be enough for me." Her eyes were hopeful in the flicker of the gas lamps, and Spike couldn’t resist touching her face, feeling the silk of her hair gliding through his fingers.

He dropped a kiss to her forehead. "I would love to dance with you, Willow. We'll dance for as long as you want."

There were tears in her eyes then, tears of happiness that he kissed away as they silently fell down her cheeks towards her smiling lips.

"Thank you, Spike."

"Don't thank me, Luv, you've no reason to. Whatever my queen desires, she shall have." He brushed her hair behind her ears before kissing her again. Then with much regret, he opened the white door, careful to stay away from the stray sunbeams that drifted into the hallway. "Rest, Willow, I'll come for you soon."

She nodded, and without another word, stepped into the room. Gently he closed the door behind her, breathing in a long draw of breath before moving back down the hallway and towards his study. The bond might be there but there was much he still had to do to ensure her safety, and the first, was to make a phone call.

* * *

"Yes, well, Angel, I do understand--"

The vampire growled, his features shifting to flicker across his face, revealing his true form. "You have no idea, Giles, none at all. You Watchers, watch, but that means you only see what we want you too, you're not smart enough to actually look where it'll do you some good."

He turned his back on the older man--or should he say younger? In his line of sight now, the Slayer squirmed, before glancing once at the werewolf before looking back at him.

Angel felt Cordelia come up beside him. "Angel, not that I don't think vampires have their good points, but don't you think it's a bad idea to leave Willow with Spike? I mean, there's no telling what he could do to her."

He'd felt it hours ago, but if truth be told he'd sensed it farther back then that. He and William shared the same demon; after all, he'd been the one to Sire the boy. It was a collective conscious to a point, a way of knowing where your Childe was so you could either save them or punish them. He'd known the moment Spike had come back to town, known and ignored it for the five days the vampire had slinked around. But Spike hadn't come to him, even though Angel knew Drusilla hadn't come back with his Childe. To say his heart had been broken would have been an understatement. Angelus had been driven by rage and near insanity over his sexual encounter with the Slayer, and he'd taken it out on his favorite Childe believing Spike could take it. But the decades without him, the near century with Dru had changed his beloved Spike. The boy was different now, and that fact had enraged Angelus--to know that he'd not only been infatuated with the Slayer, but had also lost his most beloved Childe had driven the Scourge of Europe nearly mad with the need for revenge.

But Spike had returned two months ago--without Drusilla--and had not sought out his Sire. Angel had known what Angelus had not, that Spike was already so cracked that the Master's type of psychological discipline would only destroy their bond further. Heartbreakingly he'd been right, and Spike, his most beloved Childe, had--in his grief--helped the Slayer to destroy his Sire, to kill Angelus. Angel couldn't blame him, and now, neither could Angelus. His demon was a cold and ruthless creature, but the Sire/Childe bond was strong, and in the end, Angelus had been proud that Spike would do what needed to be done to protect himself. It is always a parent's greatest pride to see their children live and be happy, vampires--though not always the case--could feel such emotions, and Angelus had.

It broke Angel's heart to know that Spike could return to Sunnydale, knowing Angelus was no more, and still not seek him out. Intellectually, he knew Spike despised him, despised Angel. He was weak, while Angelus was strong. Angel had shunned Spike away after the Romm girl, while before that, they had been lovers. But in the end it didn't matter, Spike should have come to him, should have begged his Sire's forgiveness upon learning he still lived. That didn’t happen though, and Spike had driven into town and stayed away before grabbing the redhead and leaving town.

Two months later, the Mayor was defeated and thanks to The Powers That Be, everything was different.

The Powers had come to him, requesting his help with the Mayor, in exchange they would give him what he most desired. He'd assumed it was his soul, to make it a permanent part of who he was, of the vampire. So he'd fought, he'd helped the Slayer and her Watcher, helped Willow's friend, and werewolf in the final battle to save the world. In the end, they'd been successful, and in the end, The Powers had upheld their end of the bargain.

It was still his secret. The Slayer and her friends thought he'd been given his soul permanently, and the Slayer had thrown herself repeatedly at him for the last month. The very sight of her disgusted him, but held his tongue, it wouldn’t do to let the ruse over just yet.

Just then a gentle sob caught his attention, and he found his eyes softening just a bit as he looked at the broken boy in the corner. Xander had not been the same since Willow's disappearance. Where once a vibrant young man had stood, now resided a broken child. Xander had failed to graduate with the rest of his class, and after a particularly horrible night against his stepfather, the boy had moved in with the Slayer before taking up residence with the Watcher. There wasn't an ounce of life left in him, and he'd found himself wondering if it wouldn't just be a mercy killing to end the boy's suffering.

It had been Xander who'd found out first about the Slayer and the Werewolf. He'd gone to talk with the band member when he'd heard the dog and the Slayer arguing about Willow. Xander had learned of their deception and Willow's discovery and flight before taking off after the girl himself. By chance alone, he'd found Willow's coat in the playground the next morning, after hours of searching. The search stretched out for weeks, but when all but Xander and Willow's parents had given up, the boy had become anything but responsive.

He watched as the cheerleader hesitated going to her ex-boyfriend. He'd learned, that while shallow, the brunet had a good heart; however her kindness did not extend to the drowning boy in the corner.

Growling again, Angel moved, coming quickly to Xander's side, resting his hand against the youth's shoulder. "I cannot explain everything to you Xander, but I do know that Willow is alright. Spike hasn’t hurt her, he hasn't hurt her at all."

Chocolate brown eyes looked up and into his own, and he watched as Xander's lip trembled against his tears. "H-how can you say that? Spike'd kill his own mother if he thought it'd get him something, and now you're telling me he has Willow, has all this time! Of course he'd hurting her, Angel, of course he would; he's a vampire, and that's what vampires do!"

He shook his head, knowing the room was staring at him, his display with Xander not without close scrutiny. "While it's true, that Spike would most likely kill his own mother, I know for a fact he has not hurt Willow. Not all vampire's are fledglings, Xander. Spike is a Childe, my Childe to be exact. The Watcher Journals speak little of the Sire/Childe bond because they cannot see it or understand how a vampire could feel anything beyond evil and survival, but that's not true. It can't be. I'm a vampire, Xander, and I'm not trying to kill you."

Red-rimmed eyes looked up at him then, their depths intensified by the tears still floating in them. "It's not the same thing, Angel. It's not the same. Spike doesn't have a soul, you do."

And he chose to look away then, chose to stand and move across the room to the other window, rather than lie while looking into the eyes of a child. He drew a deep breath, wariness in his voice. "Xander, as I already said, I can sense some of what Spike is going through, what he's feeling. He won't hurt Willow, he can't."

The Slayer cut him off. "Why not! What's so damn special about Willow that Spike's not aching to sink his fangs into her?" There was malice and a great deal of jealousy in her voice, and Angel reflected on how ugly she truly was, while forcing himself to ignore the fact that he'd ever considered her attractive.

He turned then, back to face the mansion living room, back toward the Watcher and the Slayer, towards the cheerleader and the werewolf, back to the failed Watcher, and back to Xander. "He won't kill her, Slayer, because that is not his plan for her. As I already said, I know Willow is alive and safe because I felt the bonding last night, and before you ask, I will not tell you anything more about the bonding except that she is safe and well. Vampires keep many secrets, and this is one that even I shall not break."

"So we're just going to let Spike keep her? There's no way, Angel! Spike came into my town and took my best friend, there's no way I'm going to let him get away with that. Now tell me where blonde is so I can go there and slay his bleached British ass!"

It took everything inside him not to shift into game face and rip her throat out. Her jealousy of not being the center of the world was clear even to the simple humans in the room, and Angel watched as Cordelia rolled her eyes, and Xander glared deathly at her. Giles and Wesley seemed torn between agreeing with her and taking her over their knee, while Oz seemed as blasé about it as he did everything else.

Angel shook his head. "I will not tell you, Slayer. Now it's late and time for you to go."

He watched her outrage fist her hands. "In case you forgot, Angel, I'm the Slayer and you're the vampire, that means when I say, 'tell me what I want to know', you tell me. Now I'm going to ask you one more--"

In rage his game face fell into place and he pounced, gripping the back of her hair and yanking her head back to expose her throat. He heard the others gasp as an afterthought as his golden eyes locked with the blue of the Slayer's. "And in case you forgot, Slayer, you're absolutely no match for me." He threw her away from him and straight into her Watcher. "Get her out of here!" He shouted before turning around and walking back to the window.

He heard the struggle as Giles dragged Buffy from the room, heard as the others followed them out, and heard the gentle breathing and soft heartbeat of Xander as he came back into the room moments later.

"There are days I get the impression that you're not fighting for the white hats anymore, Dead boy. I hear you talk about Willow being safe, but I wonder if it's really Willow you're concerned about at all. I know you probably don't want anything to happen to her, that you'd rather she was safe then not safe, but still…I gotta wonder if it isn't more about Spike then it is Willow."

Angel closed his eyes. "And if it is?"

He heard the boy shake his head. "I don't know, I really don't. It should be enough for me that she's safe, that she's really alive and that--even though she's with Spike--at least she's not hurt or dead. But Angel, you've gotta tell us more. I have to know! I have to see her with my own eyes! She's my best friend, and I treated her like shit! It's not enough for me to know she's ok because you say so, I have to really know! I mean…I mean…we ate steak together…"

He turned when he heard Xander collapse to the floor in a fit of broken sobs. And he knew, even more so than before, that Xander was truly broken. Angel knew that should Willow ever return, Xander was too far-gone to ever truly recover. He'd never be the same again, never the vibrant man he'd once been. In a way he was like Drusilla, driven mad by grief and sorrow.

Without another word, Angel went to him, lifting the sobbing mass and taking him to the bedroom. He removed the boy's shoes and then placed him under the covers tucking him in before brushing his hair from his forehead. But Xander was already exhausted, and he quickly fell asleep, completely ignorant that he was now poised to share the bed with his once mortal enemy.

However, just as Angel prepared to consider the situation, his private cell phone rang, hidden in the wall safe behind the china cabinet in the dinning room. He always hid important things in wall safes, his father had once told him they were the best hiding places, as long as they weren't concealed behind paintings, which were too obvious. The ring was impossible for human ears to hear, but Angel had been expecting the call and felt the vibrations through his enhanced hearing.

It rang twelve times before he picked it up, knowing there were only two people in the universe who knew this number.

When he did manage to answer it, it was with the slow and sultry accent of his youth, the brogue slipping out before he could catch it, before he remembered his little secret.

"'Ello, William. 'Ave ya been a good boy?"
 

The library was warmly lit and cheerful when Willow entered. Spike sat in one of the chaste loungers, waiting for her. He smiled a greeting, throwing his right leg over the side so that she could easily position herself between his legs, easily rest her head against his chest and listen to the sound of his beautiful voice as he read to her from their most current novel, Of Mice and Men. Both had read the book before, but she'd wanted to read it, having forgotten some of the more key elements to the book.

As his face registered her expression, Willow watched the smile falter, saw the subtle shift of his body as he instantly became alert.

"What is it, Luv? What's happened?"

Her right hand was still clasped behind her back, her fingers idly playing with the criss cross of ivory white cord that held the back of her flowing white dress together. Self consciously, she clutched the small bit of metal and plastic in her hand, feeling the bite of the clip as it scratched the inside of her palm.

She was standing still now, five feet in front of her beautifully handsome lover. Her feet felt cold against the hard wood floor and absently she wondered why she hadn't put shoes on, then she remembered what was in her hand.

"Willow?"

She looked up, offered her lover a quirky smile that soon melted into a frown. She hated the way his eyes moved back and forth over her face, hated the way his muscles were tensing more and more as the seconds ticked by. She knew what he was thinking, how could he not after all the other injuries she'd inflicted on herself? But that wasn't the case today; today she needed something from him.

Drawing a shaky breath, Willow pulled her right hand in front of her, wanting to show Spike that she hadn't hurt herself, that she was still in control. It'd been nearly two weeks since they'd made love, since he'd placed his mark upon her body, and bound them forever. Since that night, Willow's strength and confidence had returned, and with each passing hour she felt herself become more and more whole, and more and more in love with her mate.

He'd been so gentle with her since that night. He'd cared for her wounds tenderly, but never asking for forgiveness, as if he knew the wounds had been required. But she hadn't needed any apologies. She'd needed his touch, his presence, and his gentle kisses, which were slowly being tempered with more and more of the demon.

Slowly, as if he'd been holding back for the two months prior to their bonding, Spike was allowing the demon side of him to emerge in her presence. It'd been scary the first time. They'd been out picking berries by the cliffs when she'd spotted a rather beautiful clump of them growing by the ledge and had inched closer to grab a hold of them. She'd been close, but not that close, when Spike's heart stopping growl came a split second before he grabbed her about the waist and swung her away from the edge.

His eyes had shone golden, the full mask of the demon upon his face, and those long dagger like fangs had been bared by thinning lips. But the sight hadn't scared her--if truth be told it'd done the exact opposite, it had enflamed her. Eyes wide with lust, she looked at him, and behind the flickering gold, she'd seen the answering call, he knew what he was doing to her, his mate.

"You were too close, you could have fallen over." His words had been slightly slurred by the fangs, but Willow heard clearly the undercurrent of anger and perhaps slight worry. She'd known instantly that this had less to do with danger and far more to do with control. She could have given it away, could have agreed and backed down, but neither one of them wanted her to do that. No, both wanted her to fight, the chase was almost always worth the trouble, and so she'd stood her ground and faced the demon part of the man she loved, which she loved just as much.

"You're being silly. I wasn't anywhere near the edge. Besides, I didn't see you going for those berries; no, you were sticking rather close to the ground, weren't you?" Her voice was mocking, but her eyes held the longing, that she knew he could see, that he understood because it was basic and primitive, and held her complete submission.

She never saw him move, just felt his calf connect with the back of her knees; and then she was falling, only to be caught at the last second by arms as strong as steel, and as gentle as velvet. When she'd looked into his eyes, they were wild with a mixture of anger and need, and light that spoke of pride.

He'd taken her right there, out in the open with only the blackberry bushes to prevent the ocean from witnessing their lovemaking. His grip had been hard, but never enough to mark her, and wounds he caused when he fed from her were quickly healed. It had been the most erotic night in her life, a heady mixture of pain and pleasure that sent her into quick shivers of lust if she dwelt too long on the memory.

Spike had left the horses to their own devices that night, and carried her back to the house on his own; both leaving their clothing to catch on the wind and be discovered the next day torn and ruined, by the thorns of the bush or by fingers and claws, neither knew.

That night, admits the silk sheets and cool feel of Spike's chest under her cheek, she'd come to realize something very important. Spike, her Spike, was not as he always appeared. It was in his nature to be loving and gentle, but it was also in his nature to be ruthless and cruel. She'd fallen in love with a being half in the world of light, and half in the world of darkness, one who could bring her roses one minute, and bruise her flesh without remorse the next. He didn't want to hurt her, only obtain her complete and total obedience; not to enslave her, but to protect her. He knew what she liked and didn't like, what she needed and what would truly hurt her. He was walking a fine tightrope of control, and he was doing it all for her.

That night, she'd kissed him awake before moving to sit astride his body. She watched his eyes flicker from blue to gold and back again as she'd claimed him as her own, asserting her own power over him. She was his slave, just as much as he was hers. They were master to each other, and therefore equal in all ways. The demon was there, always lurking, but so was her poet, and she welcomed both, eager to feel the intensity of their battles as she provoked them both to their fullest potential.

But now in the library, Willow's mind felt hesitant as Spike held out his hand to her left one, letting her know he wanted her to sit with him, but was willing to wait to hear her explanation. She moved silently, the only sound coming from the popping of sap in the fire, and the rustle from the folds of silk around her legs. When she was seated beside him, he tried to pull her into the shelter of his strong body, but she resisted, needing to face him now, needing every advantage for what she was about to ask.

"Willow," She looked up, her deep green eyes locking with the blue of the sky. "Tell me what's wrong Luv. Tell me so I can fix it."

Smiling, Willow shook her head. "You told me to get dressed."

Spike chuckled. "Luv, if I'd known that asking you to put some clothes on would give you that expression on your face, I'd have gladly suffered though watching you move about naked. But it was you who was complaining about soreness." His right hand rose from his knee to caress her cheek before coming to rest possessively behind her neck, his fingers brushing the fine baby hairs that curled there.

She was sore. Keeping up with the stamina of the undead was quite a feat, and Willow was still trying to adjust. As skilled fingers continued their assault, she closed her eyes and gave herself to the momentary pleasure of this simple contact. He always knew how to touch her, how to please her. Part of her resented the fact that there had been countless women before her, while the other part was grateful, knowing she now reaped the benefits of 200 years worth of experience.

Spike chuckled again before Willow opened her eyes and sadly pulled away from him. For a moment the demon surfaced, and for the briefest second Spike's grip went hard and demanding, before the muscles relaxed and he drew his hand back.

Forcing her eyes to her hand, Willow opened her palm and looked at the small block of plastic. Spike's hand came to rest under hers as she spoke. "I found it in my jeans, the ones I was wearing that night in Sunnydale. It…it went into powersave mode. When I turned it on…Spike," She looked up into his eyes, felt herself being drawn. "Spike, it's my mom and dad. They've been trying to find me. And Xander, Xander's number is on here too." She shook the pager a little to emphasize its importance. "Spike, they didn't just forget me, they've been looking for me. Look. That number there is Xander's emergency number for me, it means I have to call him right away, and he called me only four days ago. Look, look at these numbers, Xander's paged me eight times this week! Spike my mom--"

"Can rot in hell where she belongs." The words were spoken in a deep chest growl that told Willow she'd tempted the demon.

Looking up with desperately pleading eyes, Willow watched the gold flicker in and out. "Spike, I have to call them. I have to let them know that I'm alright. I can't just--"

"NO!" He moved quickly and deliberately, seizing the pager before shifting around her body to stand three paces away. She was right behind him.

Jumping to her feet, Willow moved, placing herself directly in front of him. A long time ago, Xander had quoted his particular expression she now wore, deeming it her "resolve" face. If he could have seen it now, he would have been both proud and terrified.

"I have to call them, Spike. They must be worried sick about me. My mom I don't care about that much--not really. But Xander, my papa, I can't just let them worry about me like that! I don’t know what I was thinking these last two months, but I can't just pretend that you and I are the only two people in the entire world anymore. Spike, I have to call them, I have to let them know that I'm alright!" There was a touch of anger in her voice, but mostly the conviction to make him understand that this wasn't an option she was giving him, more like a request to make this easier on the both of them by agreeing.

His expression had gone from concerned to stone. Wearing black jeans and a red silk shirt he looked dark and dangerous as he stood there, glaring down at her. The gold was gone, as if the demon and the poet had reconciled to agree on this one issue which Willow now forced upon them. When he finally spoke, Willow couldn't help but shiver at the oppressive sound of death in his voice.

"You are not calling anyone. These people," he shook the pager, "They're worse than anything the Hellmouth could have expelled on its own. They rip you apart every chance they get! You're mom since you were a baby, you father since you understood what it meant to hurt so bad you couldn't breath; and Xander that pathetic excuse for a boy hid under your skirt while you protected the lot of them! You don't owe them anything, Willow, not a damn thing, and I won't allow you to hurt yourself by trying to make life easier for a bunch of prats. Now just forget you ever found this thing, it doesn't mean anything to you."

She could see it in the way his arm muscles began to tighten, saw the conviction in his eyes a second before she screamed and launched herself at his hand, fingers desperately groping for the pager about to be crushed with vampire strength.

Startled by Willow's scream, and the launching of her smaller frame, Spike stumbled and then fell, rolling quickly to pin Willow's squirming form beneath his. He was too stunned to be angry, and as he listened to her half sobbed words, he heard the beginnings of begging.

"Spike, don't break it! Please don't break it! Please, papa's trying to find me, I have to call him, I have to! Spike he's not that young, he was forty-five when I was born; his heart can't take it! Please, please let me call him, let me call papa and Xander. I won't talk long I promise, I won't even talk to mother if you don't want me to, but I have to call them, I have to tell them not to worry about me!" Exhausted from the struggle, Willow covered her face with her hands, and her final words were deeply muffled behind the flesh. "I don't want them to worry about me anymore, I want them to know that I'm with you, that I'm safe and happy. I want them to know I'm with you." The sob caught in her throat, and the tears were trickling down her cheeks when he finally managed to brace himself on his elbows and gently remove her hands.

She wanted them to know she was with him.

That one thought raced through his head, bouncing back and forth. She was lying beneath him, crying because she wanted those people she couldn't help but love to know that they could let her go, that she had him now, that she didn't need them anymore. She hadn't said those exact words, but Spike knew her now, understood her motives almost more than she did. That's how he knew that his mental explanation would cover Willow's parents, but not the boy she'd once loved.

It was in the way she said his name, the way he seemed to crop up in their conversations. He remembered what it was like to think back on your first love, he'd had two, one before his turning and one after. That first love stuck with you, through time and circumstance. The pathetic human boy was that love for Willow, and though he hated it, though his demon rebelled against it, he knew he had no choice but to let her say good-bye. And it was good-bye. He wasn't willing to share her, no one would have her as he did. Willow was his mate, his queen, and no one, not a past love or even his sire would take her from him--no one!

Slowly, his fingertips brushed her cheeks, lifting the tears away from her delicate skin. He watched her forest eyes open, watched as they swam with sadness and just the smallest flash of hope. Bringing her tears to his lips he flicked his tongue out to taste her sadness, wanting to remember the taste just as he vowed that he'd do everything in his power to prevent them from ever coming again.

With a deep sigh, he dropped his forehead to hers, rested it there as his superior version allowed him to focus on her features from such a close proximity. Shaking his head slightly, Spike tipped his chin downwards to brush his lips against hers, grateful when she pressed to deepen the kiss.

"I don’t want you to call them, Willow. I think they'll only hurt you more." His words were whisper quiet, and Willow could feel the cool breath behind the words against her lips and cheeks.

Blinking her eyes in acknowledgment, she lifted her tear soaked hand to his cheek brushing at imaginary hairs. "I know, but I have to. Just a few minutes; just to let them know that they don’t have to worry about me anymore. Papa's a worrier Spike, he'll put himself into an early grave wondering if I'm alive or dead, or hurt."

His eyes were sharp and focused. "I don't see a lot of bad coming from that, Pet. I'll be the first person standing in line to off the bastard for treating the way he did. I'm of the mind to go back to SunnyHell and end his pussy-whipped existence right now." He shifted, rising up a little to kiss her forehead while pressing the length of his body against hers.

She nodded, just the smallest fraction of a nod, but one none the less. "I know. But I can't do it that way, Spike not right now. Please, if you can't understand, at least respect my decision. Five minutes, that's all I'm asking for; you can even stay with me if you want."

"Damn right I'm staying with you!" He reared back, sitting onto his knees, as his hands helped lift her into a sitting position. "You think I'd let my own woman face something like that by herself, you've got to be pissed."

He wasn't ready for the giggle. It sounded a bit watery, still drowning under the stoppered tears, but it was a giggle none the less, and Spike couldn't help but smile at hearing it or her next words. "Since when did I become, 'Your woman'? Honestly, Spike, no one talks like that anymore, and more than that, I'm not "your woman", like some piece of property."

The mood was lightened, and she'd gotten her way. Spike felt his demon begin to pace at the back of his mind. It was allowing Willow this concession because it lost nothing, but as it paced back and forth it made damn sure that he knew that if its mate was hurt during the conversation, Rosenburg blood would be spilled, and it wouldn't be Willow's.

Bringing his hands up, he gripped her about the waist and behind the neck and pulled her body towards his. With the silk under her bottom she glided easily into his body, and then he was kissing her, establishing his claim. He knew she understood and so he didn't hold back, allowing his tongue to possess her mouth, to drive all thought of resistance from her body as his hands moved into her hair to position her mouth where he wanted it.

The kiss was long and commanding; establishing the rules of the following exchange. Willow would get her call, under the full knowledge that he was watching, and that his word would rule the exchange.

When he pulled back he kissed her nose, wanting to keep things light for as long as possible. Spike smiled a predatory grin down at her bedroom eyes. "And what's so wrong with that title? I'll have you know that in the vampire community, to call you "my woman" is quite an honor."

Willow rolled her eyes even as the smile split her face. "An honor for who?" She asked as Spike stood and offered her a hand up.

He pulled harder than was required, and Willow stumbled into his embrace before he kissed her again. "Why me of course. I told you, vampires are a matriarchal society. Calling you my woman is like saying I'm a kept vamp. Actually, it might be nice to be a kept vampire for a while, haven't done that in decades." He flashed her his teeth before drawing her under his shoulder and out of the library.

"Well if you're waiting for me to start bringing home dinner for you, you're sadly mista--wait, I am dinner…never mind." Their laughter followed them into Spike's study.

Once again, he lifted her onto the dark desk, kissing her lips once more before moving to the wall safe. For a moment he flashed back to two weeks ago, when he'd done the same thing, gone for the same object--before he pushed the memory out of his mind. That conversation had been disturbing to say the least. Something had been terribly off about Peaches, something he couldn't quite put his finger on. Shaking his head, he decided not to dwell on it, he had more important things to worry about now.

Combination entered, he pulled the handle and opened the mini vault. Inside were various documents, including the deed to the house and property, along with a few odds and ends he'd kept from his more poofy days. Impatiently, he pushed aside an envelope containing some of his old and horrible poetry. Gods below, could he ever have been that pathetic?

When his hand hit the metal case, he grabbed the handle and pulled it out. The briefcase was medium sized, and he carried it back to the desk without closing the safe. The combination was easily entered into the twin locks, and then he was lifting the top, exposing the satellite phone and all its complicated parts. He looked up just in time to see Willow staring at it with eyes the size of saucers. He couldn't help but laugh. "Honestly Luv, you didn't think a dinky little cell phone would work all the way out here, did you?"

Her eyes glittered with the joke, but her words reminded him of one very important fact, "You forget, I still don’t know where we are. Speaking of which, are you ever going to tell me?"

Spike chuckled. "Cor, that's right, I still haven't told you yet, have I?" She shook her head, and he saw the flash of hope and curiosity enter her eyes. Finding something to teaser her with, Spike winked. "Well then, I guess if you can keep this little hello/good-bye conversation down to less than five minutes, I might be tempted to let a few town names slip--hell, I might even take you to a few of them."

She caught him off guard again when her hand fell against his chest and bunched the shirt in her fist. When he looked, her eyes were full of hope and longing. "Do you mean it, Spike? Really? You might take me out for a little while, show me where we are? I've been so curious, but I thought you'd never tell me, so I just gave up. Are you really serious?"

Angry with his own forgetfulness, Spike's hand found her cheek again before circling back to brush the back of her neck. "I completely forgot that I hadn't told you yet, Luv. I meant to tell you ages ago, but it just slipped my mind. And here you've been so good, trying not to pester me about it." She nodded hopefully. "Well, I'll tell you what, promise me you'll keep the call short--you don't want to know how much this stupid bugger costs me a minute!--and I'll be sure to remember that you deserve a nice outing with dinner and sightseeing. Sound fair?"

She flung herself at him then, and he caught her, holding her tight, half in happiness to have her in his arms, and half out of fear of letting her go. The call was going to be painful, and he didn't relish having to put her back together over the next few days, but if it was what she needed, he'd provide.

Distress made him seek his mark upon her neck, and he bathed the light scars with his tongue for a moment in self-comfort. She was his, no matter what happened during this stupid phone call, she belonged to him--with him! No one would hurt her and live!

Her moan was airy, a breathless sound that brought his body to full attention. The demon stopped pacing, and instead raced to the front of his consciousness. Fighting for control, he pulled back, kissing her cheek before turning away to calm himself and pretend to be busy with the complicated phone.

When his body was under relative control and the phone had been powered up, he hesitated, weighing once again the pros and cons of letting her make this phone call. In the end, she'd asked him, and he couldn't deny her anything she requested. With regret he lifted her from the desk and deposited her into a more comfortable chair, passing her the bulky handset.

For some reason, even with Spike’s agreement, Willow felt a sudden weight fall upon her as she took the phone into her hand. It wasn’t that heavy, light for a piece of equipment that could send her voice up into space and back down to a telephone goddess knew how far away.

She wanted to be brave, to convey the strength of her conviction in her actions, but she couldn’t help hesitating, her finger poised over the number pad of the phone. Her throat felt suddenly dry, but she swallowed anyway, trying desperately to lubricate her throat and keep from coughing.

Drawing in a deep breath, she squared her shoulders and closed her eyes to gather her courage. The gentle lips that touched her own were more comforting than anything. Soft as velvet, Spike kissed her, brushing his lips across her own again and again before moving them lightly across her cheek to her ear.

"You don’t have to do this, Willow. You don’t need them anymore. I can understand wanting closure. Hell, that seems to be the story of my life sometimes, but they’re not important anymore. You’ve made your decision to stay with me. Let them suffer. Let them worry and cry and feel alone. They deserve it, but you, you don’t deserve to have to listen to them do those things when you talk to them. Leave them behind and stay here with me. It’s time to be free of them Willow, we can be free together." His hands were still warm from the blood she’d given him weeks ago on that fateful night, the heat never leaving his body. Now his fingers were playing against the back of her neck, in a light grip that was at once possessive and enticing.

As much as she didn’t want to, as much as her body fought her, her mind won out and she shook her head. It almost hurt when Spike’s presence over her retreated as he moved to lean back against the desk and left her with nothing but that cold phone in her hand.

Willow’s eyes sought his as she tried one last time to explain. "Please try to understand, this doesn’t have anything to do with us. I’m doing this to finish it. No more responsibility, no more guilt. This will end it and I’ll be free, just like you said."

He didn’t nod but Willow knew he understood. She didn’t dare test her resolve any further, and blindly depressed the button that would make the connection live.

For a few horribly quiet seconds, nothing came through the receiver. The dead sound of fate rung quietly before a sudden beep and the normal dial tone of a ringing phone came through. The rings were paced, but to her they sounded shorter than they should have been, as if the inevitable were streaking towards her faster than she could possibly hope to outrun it.

When she heard the click, she realized she’d been holding her breath, and as she exhaled and the phone was lifted to someone’s waiting ear, Willow’s panicked eyes watched as Spike knelt down before her and rested a large hand on her knee. She was immediately calmer.

"Hello?"

The voice sounded old and weathered, as if it had fought the world and hadn’t even stood a chance. Tired and drained, lacking in life and luster, completely and totally beaten—and it was her father.

This time, Willow didn’t hesitate.

"Papa."

So simple a word. For some it had meaning, and for others it didn’t. Today, for Willow and the man on the other end of the call, it did.

"W-Willow? Willow is that you?"

She caught Spike’s eye, held it as she spoke into the receiver and sealed her fate. "Yeah, Papa, it’s me."

"Oh my God, Willow." And through the despair and desperation, Willow heard the one thing no little girl ever wanted to admit her father was capable of doing—she heard her father begin to sob. "My girl…my baby, baby girl…"

Suddenly the enormity of the situation came to her as it never would have any other way. Her parents had left her alone again, something they always did, and yet this time things had gone horribly wrong. As far as they knew they’d arrived home—or maybe they’d received a phone call from the police, maybe even Xander—saying that she’d been kidnapped or even killed. They had no way of knowing what had happened to her and so they’d had to wait and hope, and in her father’s case, pray.

For over two months they’d known nothing, waiting and praying for her safe return. For over two months…they’d lived every parents nightmare.

Suddenly, it was far too real.

"Papa…oh Papa, I’m so sorry…" Her tears soon matched the intensity of the ones her father wept. Again and again they spoke, both in broken phrases and tears that couldn’t be stopped.

She barely felt it when Spike lifted her into his arms and resettled her onto his lap as he replaced her in the chair. As she cried into the phone and her father matched her, Spike’s large, comforting hands ran through her long hair and across her body; always reminding her that she was not alone.

Through the tears and the painful sounds of her father’s sobs, Willow knew that some part of her needed to recognize the man that now held her; to reassure him as he had her. Her free hand came up, her fingers lightly dancing across his check, and she knew she’d done the right thing when he nuzzled her palm.

And then, almost as if the evil had somehow managed to invade their small little world, Willow heard her father’s sobs abruptly halt as he drew in a sharp breath. She heard the phone shift and she knew, without asking, without hearing the first tell tale signs, her mother had just entered the room. She stiffened, her body going ridged, and no amount of comfort on Spike’s part could ease the tightness.

But something was oddly different. The voice, when she finally heard it, wasn’t as sharp as she remembered it, wasn’t as commanding as it had been two months ago. Like her father’s, it sounded beaten and wary; and just as Willow thrilled to hear it, she felt the deepest sorrow as well.

"Ira? Ira, what’s wrong? Willow? It isn’t Willow is it? Oh God, please tell me it isn’t her! Ira! Ira, tell me it isn’t Willow! Tell me it isn’t her!"

As her father’s voice became soothing if not a bit rough, Willow closed her eyes against the pain of her mother’s words. Could she hate her that much that Sheila Rosenburg would so hate the idea of her daughter calling on the phone?

As her father spoke softly in the background of her ear, it was Spike that answer the question so easily written upon her face.

"She’s in denial, Pet. She thinks your dad’s crying because you’re dead." Later, Willow would understand how hard it was for him to tell her the truth rather than let her believe the horror of her mother.

"Willow! Willow, who is that with you? Who’s there? I heard a man’s voice, Sheila!"

"Oh God!"

"Willow! Willow, you listen to Papa! Has that bastard hurt you, Willow? Has he done something to you?! Willow, tell me where you are and I’ll come get you! I’ll come right now! Wherever you are, it doesn’t matter. Mamma and I aren’t mad at you Willow. We love you so much, so, so much. We want to bring you home. Just tell me where you are, Princess and Papa will come get you. Willow, please tell me where you are."

He’d broken towards the end, and Willow heard the pain her disappearance had caused him explode in the dark recesses of his voice.

How she gathered her courage she had no idea. How she managed to open her mouth and begin the conversation she’d never be able to explain later. But she had to, and so she did.

"I-I’m ok, Papa. I called because I didn’t want you and moth—mamma to worry about me. I-I’m ok. I-I’m not hurt. I’m ok—no, I’m better than ok. Papa," on their own, her eyes came to rest in a sea of blue so familiar that she knew every fluctuation of color in them. "Papa, for the first time in my life…I’m happy. Really and truly happy." The smile on Spike’s face was pure and true, and within it was the depth of his relief.

She heard the sound of her father protesting, before a scuffle sounded and then suddenly, it wasn’t her father anymore.

"Willow, it’s Mamma. Hunny, it’s all right; everything is going to be ok. Sweetheart, I need you to listen to, Mommy now. I know that—that sometimes we’ve had our differences, but I want you to know that I love you. I love you so much. Hunny please tell me where you are, please. Papa…Papa told me you were happy, and—and that’s a very good thing. We want you to be happy, but Willow you need to tell us where you are now. We’ve been so worried about you. The police, everyone thought you’d been—well it doesn’t matter what they thought because I’m talking to you right now! Sweetheart, listen to me please, if, if you don’t want us to come, that—that’s ok, we understand. But Willow you have to tell us where you are; give us a phone number we can call you at. You’ve been gone for so long…so long without…without any contact…we thought, oh Willow we thought you were dead!"

For once, the tears sounded sincere. For once the emotions sounded real. For once, her mother sounded utterly human.

It was to the humanity that Willow responded.

"Mamma. Mamma, I’m alright; I’m safe and happy. I know I scared you. I…had to work some things out for myself for a while and…" she paused, looking at her lover for both support and to make him understand her next words. "Mamma, I don’t expect you to understand this, you or Papa, but…I’ve…I’m in love Mamma. He’s…amazing. He makes the world beautiful again, Mamma. He makes all the pain worth it. I love him so much, so much that sometimes he’s all I see. Everything I’ve been through my entire life, all the hell and the suffering, it’s worth it because of him. He—he’s my savior, Mamma, my angel, even if he’d say otherwise."

"Willow—" Panic was in Sheila Rosenburg’s voice, and Willow moved quickly to stop it.

"I know you’re worried. I’m sorry I made you worry about me, really I am. I know you think something horrible has happened to me, that Spi—William tricked me somehow, but he didn’t. For the first time in my life he’s been completely honest with me. There aren’t any lies between us, no half-truths. He treats me like a queen. I know what you're thinking, that he’s brainwashed me, but he hasn’t, really Mamma—"

"Willow, he kidnapped you! You can’t tell me that—"

"Yes he did." She cut her mother off again. "He did, and to be honest with you, he was going to kill me." She heard her mother gasp and her father beg to know what was being said. "But he didn’t, and for the first time in my life Mamma—the first time—I don’t feel dead inside. William’s the best thing that ever happened to me, Mamma, I love him, more than anything or anyone in the entire world, and he loves me back and we’re going to be happy and together for a very, very long time." Leaning up, she brushed her lips against Spike’s cheek, offering him a brilliant smile.

Her father had somehow been briefed and had gotten back the phone.

"Willow, I don’t know what that man did to you, but I need you to listen to Papa—"

"No." Where one minute she’d had her heart open and exposed she now had it guarded. Her voice was instantly colder her demeanor closed off so that Spike had to give her a loving squeeze to remind her that her father wasn’t standing before her. "William didn’t do anything to me but love me, and if you can’t understand that then I really pity you.

"And honestly Papa, I don’t care what you think or what you want to say. William and I love each other, and he’s taken care of me when no one else did. When you and mother left me for months on my own, he hasn’t left my side since we left. He’s not just kind and loving towards me, he believes in me, worships me just like I do him. I know you think he’s done something to me, but you can just get that out of your head right now. We—"

Suddenly an idea struck her, and her eyes widened as she turned to look up at Spike. She saw the question enter his eyes before she made the decision to just do what she thought was right. Besides, it wasn’t like a lie—not exactly.

"Besides Papa, William and I…we’re married. We got married in a beautiful garden—"

She expected the interruption.

"You what?! Willow—"

"And he’s not Jewish. He’s…um…" she turned to look at Spike and blushed prettily.

"Um, what religion are you anyway?"

He laughed, the sound strong and proud, filled with mirth, acceptance, and love. Spike smiled evilly then. "Well that depends. Do you want to make him mad or tell him the truth?" Willow put a mock stern expression on her face and he laughed again. "Oh fine. You can tell him I, WAS, Protestant."

Willow smiled at him as she heard her father shout on the other end of the phone. Her smile was coy and she gave him a soft wink as she pressed her hand, first to her lips and then to his. He returned the gesture in kind, offering her support.

"Papa, getting upset won’t change anything. William and I are happy and together and that’s all that matters to us. I called to let you know that I was alright and that you didn’t have to worry about me anymore—"

Her father’s voice was hard and angry when he spoke. "Not worry! Not worry! You’ve been missing for two months, Willow. Mamma and I had no idea where you were, no idea if you were alive or dead! You didn’t call to let us know anything. Xander found your jacket in the park with blood on it, and the police kept telling us to give up hope. Do you have any idea what the people at home have been going through?

"Willow, please, all we want to know is where you are and to see you. That’s it. That’s not so much to ask, now is it? We just want to see with our own eyes that you’re alright, that your…that your husband’s treating you right. Willow, if you won’t do it for your mom and I, then do it for Xander. He’s not doing well, Willow. He was so worried about you all the time, he dropped out of school and…your mother and I think he might need psychiatric help. Willow, if he could just see you, just talk to you, I know that he’ll get better. Willow please, if your so happy then don’t deny the rest of us the same happiness. If you are happy then I respect that, you’re—you’re old enough to make your own decisions, but I’m still your father, and it’s my job to make sure you really are safe, that that man hasn’t hurt you."

Something was wrong with Xander.

Might need psychiatric help.

Xander could get better if she talked to him.

He’s suffering.

She didn’t even have to think about her decision.

"H-how is Xander now? You’ll tell him that I’m alright, won’t you? You’ll tell him I’m ok and that he doesn’t have to worry about me anymore, right? Papa?"

"Willow, hearing it from me won’t help. He needs to hear it from you, he needs to see you. Princess, just tell Papa where you are and we’ll bring Xander up to see you. We’ll bring all your friends to see you. Even your friend from that band, and Buffy, and I promise to make sure your mother calls her Buffy and not Bunny."

He kept talking, but Willow couldn’t hear him anymore, Spike had taken the phone from her. With the mouth piece covered, Spike forced her to look at him.

"Luv, what’s wrong?"

The shock was plain on her face. "It’s Xander, he’s ill. Spike, I-I have to talk to him, I have to let him know that I’m alright. My dad says that Xander’s gone crazy, that he thinks he might need real help. Spike, he’s my best friend, I can’t just leave him like that, I can’t, and I won’t! I have to call him, I have to let him know that I’m alright!"

"Shhhhhh." Gentle fingers brushed against her cheek as her father continued to talk into the phone. "Red, your parents talked about the dog and the Slayer. You know that if you go and see them you’ll have to see the both of them as well, don’t think for a minute the bitch—both of them—will say home when they know their whipping girl’s come out into the open."

Willow shook her head. "I can’t tell them where I am—I still don’t know myself! But Xander needs me, Spike. If our positions were reversed, Xander would come, he’d come and see me, no matter what it cost him. I have to see him, Spike, if he needs me I can’t abandon him."

"Like he abandoned you?" Came the cold and hard reply.

Wincing Willow looked away. "Maybe he did. I don’t know anymore. Things were so confusing for me then. But the fact is that I’m better now, I’m grounded, and I have you. I have everything that I need, but I won’t abandon my best friend. I won’t leave him like that, I can’t, I care about him too much. And, I don’t think—I know that if Xander knew how bad I’d gotten, he wouldn’t ever have let me go that long, he would have done something."

"Willow—"

"I mean it, Spike, I won’t leave him like that!" She was yelling now, and the silence told her that her father had heard the shout and was now straining to hear what she was saying. For his part Spike was outwardly calm. Drawing in a deep breath, Willow tried to calm herself. "You might not understand the way I’m explaining it, so think of it like this, if it were Drusilla, wouldn’t you go after her to make sure she was alright? Wouldn’t you do everything in your power to make her as comfortable as you could? If he’s that…upset because of me, because he’s worried about me, and all I have to do is talk to him, then I have to, I have to do that for him. Please, Spike, please try to understand, to trust me."

"It’s not that I don’t trust you, and it’s not that I don’t understand. I know what you’re trying to do because I’ve done it myself before and it almost always backfires, just like this conversation with your parents is backfiring. But if it’ll make you happy, you can arrange through your parents to contact Xander."

Overcome, Willow squealed and wrapped her arms around Spike. "Thank you, thank you so much!"

But Spike shook his head. "Don’t thank me, Luv. I think this is a rotten idea."

She smiled before she kissed him. "I know, that’s why I’m thanking you."

Grabbing the phone, she pressed it to her ear and began her demands. "Papa, I have to talk to Xander, but I can’t tell you where I am, or give you any contact information." Her father tried to protest, but she just continued on right over the top of him until he fell silent. "What I am going to do is make arrangements with you to call back. But you have to make sure Xander is there—just Xander, no one else, none of my other friends. They’re not my friends anymore, Papa, only Xander maters to me anymore.

"Willow, hunny, can't you just give me a phone number to call you back at, just something so that I know I wasn't dreaming and that I really am talking to my little girl. I don't think you realize how hard this was for your mother and I. We've given up all our speaking engagements, your mother lost her book deal and we've done nothing but sit by the phone and tell people that you're not dead. Willow, we need to be able to talk to you, to tell you that we love you and that we want you to come home. Please, Willow, don’t deny us that. Just give us a phone number, we won't even call if you don't want us too, but please, just…just let us have a number from you so we know that our little girl is safe."

The tears were in her eyes again, and even when she fought them, reminding herself of all the horrible things they'd put her through as a little girl, she couldn't help remember that they were her parents, couldn't stop remembering that she loved them.

"Just a second, Papa."

Turning her head, Willow looked up at Spike. "Is there a number that I could give them. They promised not to call, but just something that they can have in case…well, in case of an emergency I guess." She shrugged, cocking her head to the side to show she didn't even know for sure what she meant, and Spike knew she didn't know if she really wanted them to have the number or just felt trapped.

Then a brilliant idea came to him. He smiled before nodding his head. "Luv, just tell your father that he can leave a message with the man that picks up at the other end of this number," and he gave her Angel's cell phone number. If Angel had been telling the truth and really wanted to patch things up with him, then he could start by being his secretary; they'd talk about promotions in a century or two.

Nodding, Willow relayed the phone number to her father and then tried to end the conversation. "Papa, I have to go now. I want you to know that I love you very much, and that I'll call you back in one week, same time. You'll make sure that Xander's there, won't you?"

"Willow, mamma and I promise that we'll be here and I'll do my best to get Xander to come. I'm going to tell him that I talked to you, and I'm going to tell the police that you've been in contact with us, but I need to talk to William first. Put him on, Willow, I want to talk to this boy that's managed to steal my daughter from me." His voice was warm but filled with steel and Willow was instantly nervous.

"Papa, I don't think that's a good idea."

"Willow, I don't want to do this, but he's taken you a way for two months, and you mamma told me that he threatened to kill you. Now, I don't know what's going on, but I have to talk to him, if you don't let me, I'll tell the police that you were kidnapped and are being held against your will--"

"That's not true!" At her outburst, Spike's hand came up to touch the back of her neck, his fingers massaging gently while his other hand reached out for the phone.

"It's alright, Willow. Let me talk to him."

"But--"

But Spike just shook his head. "Hand it over, Red. I'll talk to your father and straighten things out." Reluctantly she handed over the phone, but was surprised when he gently pushed her off his lap. "Do me a favor, wait for me in the library. I'll be right there." When she tried to protest, tried to explain that she needed to hear this, he just shook his head. "I'll take care of this, Willow. Just be a good girl and wait for me. We'll go on a picnic when I'm done. In fact, why don't you gather the things together. I'll meet you in the kitchen to help you put together dinner." Leaning up, Spike gave her a quick kiss and a tap on the bottom before escorting her out the door of the study.

When he got back to the phone, he lifted the receiver and made his immediate demands. "'Ello, Mr. Rosenburg, I should start by thanking you for asking to speak with me, Willow wouldn't have wanted me to talk to you."

"Now you listen to me you--"

"Actually, I have quite a bit to say to you, but not right now. Put you wife on the phone. She and I have a lot to talk about, starting with drugging a little girl, then killing her kitten and making her feel afraid her whole life. I'll talk to you about being a pussy whipped, child neglecting bastard when I'm finished with her. Then we can talk about legal actions against the both of you concerning Willow's upbringing that could put a damper on both of your future speaking engagements and book deals."

On the other end of the phone was only silence.

Twenty minutes later Spike emerged from the study to find Willow sitting against the wall across from the door.

"What did you say to them?" She sounded small and a little afraid, but behind the fear was a strength to know what had been discussed, and she wasn't taking "nothing important" as an answer.

"I basically accused them of child abuse and neglect, and told them if they called the police and suggested kidnapping charges it would make you sad and I'd take them to court over the whole thing, dragging their names through the mud. Your mother immediately relented, but your father was willing to do anything to get you back, so I then told him that you and I were married--nice call by the way--and that as your husband I had a lot more legal rights over you than they did at this point, but that more importantly you were happy with me. Your father didn't disagree, but he told me, that if I didn't let you call him at the prearranged time, he wouldn't hesitate to track me down and kill me. Even if he is a sissy bastard, he at least cares about you--a few decades late, but better late than never."

With eyes a mixture of sadness and relief, Willow nodded before standing and walking towards him. Rising onto her toes, her hands wrapped behind his neck to pull him down into a warm kiss. She was a collection of a thousand emotions, ones she couldn't yet categorize. He knew how bad it was when she took him by the hand and pulled him towards the stairs leading to the third floor.

He stopped her at the bottom of the staircase. "Luv, the picnic?"

But she just shook her head. "No picnic, I'm not hungry. Just take me upstairs. I need you to hold me for a while, maybe the rest of the night, I'm not sure yet."

Smiling a soft smile, Spike nodded before placing his hand at the small of her back and guiding her up the stairs.

Once in their room, he propelled her towards the closet before removing her clothing and carrying her to the bed. Their lovemaking was soft and slow, filled with promises of togetherness and the eternity.

That night, Spike held her tightly, listening to her silent tears and the muffled murmur of her heart.

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Author's Notes:

1.)  For those of you panicking, DON'T!  This is still a W/S story...with a few things coming up in later chapters to shake things up...I wouldn't want it to get boring.

2.)  From this point on, the story will--every now and then--jump to Angel and Xander, to explain their future roles.

3.)  Whispered Fire is now the first book of the Fire Trilogy.  Whispered Fire will continue to detail the amazing relationship between Willow and Spike, and this is most definiatly their book.  The next two books will also feature Willow and Spike as the main couple, so don't worry, I haven't abandoned the super couple.

4.)  Now saying all that and getting everyone interested in what's to come, any and all feedback to this author (because she's starving for it) will result in not only a thank you, but a sneak preview of what to expect in the next few chapters and the next book!  I am also looking for posible titles for the next two books; the only requirement is that they must contain the word "Fire".  I look forward to hearing from everyone!  Oh, and if anyone wants to flame the period chapters, go ahead, I'm in a good mood to write long replys  ^__^

5.)  And for the last time...WILLOW IS NOT A VAMPIRE!