1855

Willow knelt in the bushes and watched the ebony door as she had for the past few nights.  She was getting pretty good at this lurking thing now.  So good, that she couldn't even remember how many times a vampire had stepped within several feet of her without being aware of her presence.  <Stealth girl...that's me!> she would smirk to herself as she watched the hungry vampires pass her unaware.  Occasionally, she would stake one, just to keep in practice, but she was still quite afraid of messing up the timeline, so it was a rare occurrence.  The most important thing to avoiding vampires, she had learned, seemed to be to keep downwind.  Another important factor was to avoid perfume, heavy soaps, or anything else that left a lingering 'unnatural' scent.  She'd also discovered that they had more trouble detecting her on rainy nights or cold ones...anything that mixed up her unique aroma.  On the other hand, Willow had found out the hard way that it was virtually impossible for vampires not to be aware of her presence on very hot and humid nights.  Even if she had 'Secret,' the deodorant strong enough for the Slayer, the redhead was sure that the demons would still be able to detect the scent of her sweat.  Luckily, Willow's ability to defend herself was just one of the things that had matured over the years.

Wrinkling her nose in distaste at her own odorous thoughts, Willow focused once more on the door.  By her best estimate, it was only a half-hour at most until sunrise.  She was thankful that she wouldn't have to wait much longer to stretch the muscles that ached from crouching for so long.  Within seconds of that thought, she saw the object of her cloak-and-dagger behavior strolling up the street.

He was alone, again, as he had been for the past few nights so Willow decided it was time to reveal herself.  When he paused at the door to his lair to unlock it, Willow slipped out of the shrubbery and across the dark street.  Making herself comfortable, she leaned against a small tree.

"So, what's a bad vamp like you doing in a nice place like this?"  Her delicate voice broke the early morning stillness.  Willow was very proud of herself when she saw that she had caught Spike completely by surprise.

Spike spun around, already in attack mode.  His 'game' face slipped instantly into place, and his body tensed, ready to spring into immediate action.

Willow simply smiled and waved, not in the least frightened by his demonic reaction.

Upon seeing the identity of the intruder, Spike suddenly stood up straight, looking more than a little puzzled.  "Willow?  What the bloody hell are you doing here?" he lisped slightly through his fangs.

Willow stuck out her lip in a mock pout.  "Aren't you happy to see me?" she teased further.  "After all, you're the one who said the coast was clear...all the nasty vampires are out of the country for a few years.  'Alle alle in-come-free!'" she shouted through cupped hands, then smiled brightly.  It was good to seem him again, even if his less-appealing visage was all she had yet to see.

Spike shook his head in irritation.   "That was years ago, Willow.  Over 10 years ago I told you it was safe to come back!  Where the bloody hell have you been?"

Willow stood her ground.  "Hey, it's not like you didn't know I was safe!  Heck, I have a box full of your letters, so you knew where I was...most of the time.  Besides, I told you I was busy...things to do...places to go...people to see.  I also told you that I'd come back when I was finished."  Knowing that she'd come across more defensive than she'd intended to, Willow paused and took a breath.  The calming effect was almost instantaneous.  Now that the smile was back on her face, she took a casual step closer, but only one since he didn't seem overly delighted to see her.

"Well, I'm all done, so here I am!" she chirped, regaining her previous enthusiasm.

When the shock of suddenly seeing his make-believe wife after 45 years wore off, the vampire took a moment to take in her appearance.  She looked good--very odd and out of place because of what she was wearing--but still good.  Not that he would admit it.

"What the hell are you wearing, Red?  Isn't it a little early for Halloween?"

Willow took a few strides closer until she was illuminated fully by the gaslight and then stopped and did a twirl.

"You like?" she asked, grinning like a Cheshire cat as she indicated the men's clothing.  "The best part is, not only are these comfortable, but they're also great for lurking, stalking vampires, and general mischief making."

Spike still hadn't moved; however, much to Willow's relief he did force his demon back into hiding, and along with it the ridges, fangs, and yellow eyes.  Right then, his blue eyes were noting her tall riding boots, tight black breeches and dark shirt.  She even had most of her red hair hidden under some sort of cap.  She looked comical and stunning all at the same time.  Spike could barely remember when he last saw a woman in form-fitting pants, and he suddenly had a strong desire for someone to hurry up and invent Lycra.  Realizing he was staring, he latched back on to his previous anger.

"You look absolutely, bloody ridiculous, Willow," he snapped at her.

Her smile waned a bit.  She had hoped that he would at least pretend to be happy to see her.  Much to Willow's dismay though, he appeared annoyed more than anything.  <He's mad.  In fact, if I didn't know better, I'd say he's pouting because I didn't come back the second he told me it was safe!  Vampires and their egos!  Geesh!> she thought as she watched the bitter vampire glare at her.

"Well, um, it beats a corset any day of the week.  Besides, I don't wear it very often, only when I don't want to be seen at night.  Do you have any idea how difficult it is to sit in a steel and wire hoop skirt and half a dozen petticoats?  And you can forget about being stealthy because you practically squeak when you walk...kind of like the tin man but without the cute little funnel hat," she joked with an easy smile.  Apparently, Spike didn't see the humor because his stony exterior didn't soften in the slightest.

Her smile fading fast, Willow kicked at the ground for a moment.  At this point she'd have preferred his sarcastic gibes to the deathly silence, but even those weren't forthcoming from the unusually stoic vampire.  Eventually, Willow decided she'd had enough.  She'd been ignored enough for one night, if not more.

"Well, obviously I'm bothering you, so I'll leave you alone, Spike.  I just wanted you to know that I'm in town, safe and sound." She paused just long enough before continuing to allow Spike to interrupt if he wanted to, which apparently he didn't.  "I have a place down in Grosvenor's Square.  The vampire population seems pretty sparse in that part of the city."

Spike shoved his hands into his overcoat pockets.  "That's as good a place to be as any, I suppose.  That area is too rich for most vamp's blood," he said with disinterest.

Willow took a few hesitant steps backwards, her eyes now leaving the vampire to gaze down the street longingly.  She wanted out of there and away from the aloof vampire, as the silence was almost painful.  She looked back at Spike one last time to find that he was now staring at his pocket watch like he had somewhere else he would rather be.  <I can take a hint, Spike.>

"Well, I'll leave you to get some sleep or whatever.  I'm sure we'll manage to find each other in a few years after Dru is turned, then we can both go home and face real life again."

When Willow made her move to go, Spike turned back toward his door and finished opening it with a harsh shove.  "See you then," he grunted to the door and stepped inside.

Walking away, Willow could only shake her in head at his behavior.  She'd only taken a few steps when she had a rather cheeky idea.

Just as he was about to close the door, Willow called over her shoulder in her most innocent-as-a-lamb voice, "In the meantime, if you're ever in my neighborhood, you should stop in for a bite."

Spike did a double take and reopened the door.  He had to see the expression on her face.  Did she realize what she'd said?  If not, then she'd be blushing and would quickly start backpedaling and babbling, and he'd hate to miss that.  And, if she'd said it on purpose, well....

But she was gone.  He darted out to the landing and glanced up and down the street, but Willow had already disappeared.  Not allowing himself to feel or show a speck of disappointment, Spike took out one of his hand-rolled cigarettes from the inside pocket of his overcoat.  <She'll be back, mate.  She'll be back,> the vampire told himself as he walked back into his current lair and shut the door behind him.

Willow dashed quickly back to the place where she'd stashed a fairly loose-fitting dress and some other basic essentials.  Hidden in a thicket formed by one of Spike's neighbor's flowering bushes, she pulled the gown on over her 'stealth-wear', as she liked to call it, slid the trousers off, and changed her shoes.  Even with the light fog and the cover offered by the shrubbery, Willow wasn't about to take the time to dress properly.  The point was to not draw attention to herself, not to win a fashion show.  Pulling a coat on to cover the rest of her fashion faux pas, Willow headed for home.

After sometime, the redhead managed to hail a carriage. On the long ride to her new place, Willow admitted to herself that she was more than a little disappointed in how the meeting with the vampire had gone.  She knew Spike wasn't pleased when she hadn't run back to London the second he let her know it was safe.  Oh, how she'd wanted to, though.  It kept her awake many a night, wondering if she was doing the right thing.  But like she'd told him, she had things that had to be done first.  It wasn't until all her work was complete that she finally allowed herself to return to her adopted home.

It was obvious, though, that Spike didn't understand that.  And why would he?  She'd never told him what she was doing all those years, and he'd never pressed her for details.  Still, it was obvious that his pride was wounded, again.  He'd probably figured that she'd be dying for his company...maybe even take things up where they'd left it off.

Willow smiled, remembering their last days together.  When they'd parted, it was pretty obvious that they both wanted more from each other than a philosophical discussion on the virtues of chocolate, but that was a very long time ago.  Clearly since then, Spike had overcome his temporary fascination with her, just as she had for him.  It was to be expected.  After all, their original desire had sprung from the simple fact that all they had was each other.  Luckily for the both of them, things were different now.  He had gotten on with his life, she did her best to create one for herself, and, most importantly, Willow had finally learned to keep her under-used hormones in check.  <Yep, a lot can change in half a century.>

She did miss him though.  The letters that they'd exchanged, while always wonderful, weren't enough.  It was funny.  Even though the amount of time they'd actually spent together during their journey back in time had been relatively small, the blonde vampire had somehow become the most important person in her life.  <*Friends* usually are,> she reminded herself promptly.

Willow let her head fall back against the cushion of the handsome carriage as the first rays of the early morning sun touched her face.  <God he looked beautiful...better than I remember!>  Willow sighed deeply with the knowledge that she'd never be able to reenact some of the steamier dreams she'd been having lately, but that was okay.  She'd accepted that many years before.  More importantly, she was home now, and eventually Spike would quit being so stubborn and drop by.  They'd play cards, talk, tease each other, and it would have to be enough for both of them.

"Can you take the long way home?" she asked the driver.  "It's such a beautiful morning, and I'm in no hurry.  Just take your time."

******

It was several weeks after her surprise visit to Spike, and Willow was bored.  Both the days and nights seemed to be passing much more slowly lately.  Maybe it was because she was alone, even though she should have been used to that by now, or maybe it was because she was clock watching--calendar watching, to be more accurate.  Five years to go.  Five years until Drusilla's family would move to London, Angelus and William would return from Europe, and all of Spike's dreams would finally be fulfilled.  It was during seemingly endless nights like these that Willow just knew that the next five years would pass more slowly than the previous one hundred had.  She puttered around her house for a while, as she did every evening, cleaning and rearranging things.  Being the fairly neat person that she was, that never kept her occupied for very long though.  Add to that the fact that she had a lady come in a few days a week to help--as was expected of a lady in that day and age-- it meant that Willow had a lot of extra time on her hands.  Normally, after her nightly 'nesting' activities, Willow would throw herself into her new favorite pursuits.  Well, relatively speaking they were new, but she'd taken them up several decades earlier.  After all, Spike had told her to get a hobby, and now she had several.

Willow had started keeping a journal within days of leaving England the last time.  She found it incredibly liberating to finally be able to express all of her feelings and describe all of her experiences, even though only on paper.  She had already gone through several journals.  The first, unfortunately, was barely legible since it took her some time to get used to using a quill and inkpot. Still, each page overflowed with emotions and thoughts, fears and hopes, and even vague sketches of some of her more haunting dreams.  It was more than just a diary to her, and the diary she'd kept at home so long ago during her 'real' teenage years seemed almost inconsequential.  If those youthful ramblings had seemed comforting to her then, then her writings now were her salvation.

Tonight, after adding a few pages to her latest leather-bound volume, she put it back in the top drawer of the writing desk that sat in the corner of her bedroom.  Skipping back down the steps, Willow headed into the parlor to lose herself in her other favorite pastime--the guitar.  It was, in fact, her passion now.  Her writings may have saved her, but her music gave her life meaning again.  A day did not pass by when she didn't hold the guitar close to her for a couple of hours, her fingers caressing its rich wood as if it were her lover.  Under her ministrations, the fine instrument was no longer inanimate, sometimes seemingly whispering and sighing in response to her touch, while other times roaring passionately as she drew from the dead wood the sounds of life itself--sorrow, joy, regret, love, hatred, fear...  By creating such ardor from a simple handmade guitar, Willow found an outlet for the rest of her pent-up emotions.  The feelings that she couldn't even convey with ink on paper seemed to find their release through her alternating rhythms and slowly cresting melodies.  Whenever she would finish, Willow would be spent--physically, mentally, and emotionally.

As usual, tonight the time passed quickly as she played, but soon she even grew frustrated with her music.  Willow had been inside too long and needed to get out, no matter what time of night it was.

"That's it!" she exclaimed as she reached for the cross that she kept on a table by the door.  "I'm going for a walk.  I'll keep in the light, amongst the crowds, just like I always do, and I'll be fine. Besides, it's not even nine o'clock yet.  Still early enough for a quick stroll around the block," she convinced herself as she once again put the familiar heavy cross around her neck.  She couldn't be bothered putting on her stealthy clothes tonight.  She found it tortuous enough trying to put a corset on every day by herself when most women had someone else to help them, but taking it off was just as bad.  She didn't want to wait another hour before getting out of her prison home.

"Besides, if I don't get out of here and get some fresh air, I'll end up crazier than Drusilla!"  At the last minute, she grabbed a shawl and headed out into the night.  Standing on her stoop, she quickly surveyed the street.  The London fog was fairly thick, but she'd seen worse.  She was able to see where she was going and the gaslights along the street, and she could even make out other people as they passed by her house.  Looking up, she was a little sad that the fog made it utterly impossible to see the moon, let alone the stars.  Nevertheless, Willow knew that sooner or later there would be a clear night, and she promised herself she would take full advantage of it when it came.  But for now, Willow wrapped her shawl tightly about herself and set off into the damp air, hoping to clear her mind and sooth her anxious nerves.

She hadn't walked more than two houses up the street before she felt the grip of a cold hand on her shoulder.  In an almost knee-jerk reaction that she thought would make her Sensei proud, Willow grabbed the offending hand and arm with both of hers, leaned forward, and used her body as leverage to flip her assailant over her shoulder.  With a loud thud, the vampire landed on the ground before her.

"Evening, Willow," the slightly shocked blonde vampire said from the ground.  "Or should I be calling you Jackie Chan now?"

"Oops...sorry," Willow said sheepishly, offering a hand to help him up, which Spike ignored.  "I don't know what came over me.  You startled me, and I grabbed your hand and next thing I knew, there you were...on the ground...at my feet," she said, trying not to laugh.  When Willow noticed the puzzled looks from a young couple that had stopped to see what was happening, she tried to offer a flustered explanation since proper Victorian women didn't usually go around the streets of London flipping men over their shoulders.

"It--it was like one of those stories that you hear about--people finding incredible strength when their, um, cat is trapped under a car, or something."  Then seeing their puzzled looks turn to sheer confusion, she babbled on.  "*Carriage* cars, that is.  Yep, that's the kind of car I meant, because there aren't any others yet, are there?  Yep, they just grab onto that train and lift it right up to save their babies.  Read all about it in the London Times just the other week...think it happened somewhere in Brighton..."  Willow breathed a sigh of relief when the young man, obviously trying to impress his companion, began nodding his head and commenting that he remembered reading about her fictitious story.

While she was prattling on, Spike had momentarily forgotten he was lying on the cold ground.  He was so entranced watching Willow squirm as she tried to come up with an explanation for her behavior, that he was content to lie there.  An embarrassed Willow, all red-faced and disconcerted, was one of his favorite things.  Only now did he realize just how much he'd missed it.  Nevertheless, Spike snapped out of it when the idiotic couple bought her story.  The agile vampire quickly curled his knees to his chest and then arched his back, springing to his feet.  Much to her suitor's chagrin, an awed whisper came from the young female stranger at Spike's fantastic feat.

Spike quickly explained, "Oh, I, ah, used to be with the circus but had to quit.  They were working me to death."  Before the onlookers could ask any questions, Spike took Willow by the elbow and led her away.

"I thought I told you to stay in at night, Red!  Although I must be brain dead to think that you would actually start listening to me now," he continued grimly.

"Don't take it personally, Spike.  I never really listen to anybody anymore.  Besides, I was very bored, and I was going to be careful."  Willow stopped walking and latched onto her necklace, shoving it in his general direction.  "See!  I have a cross!"  Then she started rooting around in the pockets of her skirt haphazardly, "and I know there's a stake around here somewhere...Anyway, once again, I think I proved I can take care of myself."

Spike shook his head as he renewed his grip on her arm, even tightening it some, and set her back in motion again.  "You were just lucky, Pet.  If I'd been trying to kill you and not just get your attention, you'd be one dead Rose.  Now, let's go inside.  If you're that bloody bored, I guess I could beat you at poker a few times."

Willow jutted out her chin.  <Don't do me any favors, Spike.>  "You know, I managed fine without you, again, for a long time, Spike.  And since you were the one that ended up flat on his bum, it's pretty obvious that I don't need a baby sitter," she reminded him as they walked up the stairs to her home.  <At least he didn't ask me how I learned to flip people over my shoulder!  Good thing I didn't kick him, too!>

Spike shrugged and finally let a small smile pull at the corners of his mouth.  "Then consider it a date, Pet, if that makes you feel all grown up."

When she finally noted that hint of a smile that she'd wanted to see so badly weeks before, instead of making her happy, it irked her.  She was determined not to let him run the show this time.  Willow opened the door and entered her house, then turned to stare at him.

Spike stood outside with his hands in his pockets, looking at Willow expectantly.  "Um, love," he said, with a smidgen of exasperation, "I know it's been a long time, but aren't you forgetting something?  You have to invite me in, remember?"

"Not until I hear the magic words, Spike," she said coolly.

Spike rolled his eyes and groaned.  "May I come in and disgrace you at poker, *please*, Willow?"

Willow smirked and shook her head.  "Very nice, Spike.  But that isn't what I want to hear."

He clenched his jaw viciously.  <He, a vampire, had said 'please' after all. What the hell else could she want?  Oh, sod it all to hell...!>  His own thoughts angered him and the hint of a grin was quickly replaced by the now-more-familiar scowl.

"I'm not in the mood for games, Willow," he informed her while taking a step back.

She couldn't help sighing slightly.  "Me either, Spike.  Good night," she said and softly shut the door.  Willow didn't even look through its stained-glass panels to see if he was still there.  She just turned and headed up the staircase to her room.  Not that Spike would have noticed because he had already walked away without a backward glance.

There were both very proud of themselves.

Spike was still shaking his head as he walked down the street.  He didn't know exactly what had happened, but there was one thing he was quite sure of, and it brought more than a hint of a smile to his face.

"After all this time, she still wants me," he chuckled to himself while he felt around in his pockets for a cigarette and matches.  "Poor thing is setting herself up for a bloody big disappointment."

"I can't believe he still wants me...like that," Willow later said to herself while preparing for bed.  Then she laughed when she realized how frustrated he must have been when she didn't succumb to his charms.  "Yep, it's a good thing one of us has come to our senses while we were apart!"

*****

It was a beautiful, clear, spring night, several weeks later, and Willow was in her small backyard.  On rare nights such as this, it was her favorite place to be, especially when for the past two weeks the weather hadn't allowed her to be outside much.  If it wasn't the fog, then it was the rain, but not tonight...tonight was perfect.  She looked about her tiny section and smiled.  While it was much smaller than her backyard in Sunnydale, it was the perfect size for her now.  It gave her enough room for a small wrought-iron table, a couple of chairs, and even a swing.  In the sunniest corner there was a flowerbed.  She had big plans for that little spot, too.  Since it looked like she was finally going to be in one place for a little while and she'd decided to take Spike's advice and stay off the streets at night, this was the one place she could go at night to enjoy the outdoors.

The thing she liked most about her backyard was the privacy it afforded her.  From where she sat on the candle-lit patio, only rare, muffled street noises reached her ears, but she hardly noticed them.  Rows of evergreen bushes surrounded her yard on three sides, forming a privacy screen just tall enough to stop the views from the neighbors' windows, without blocking too much sun or, more importantly, her view of the stars--that is, when the famous London fog didn't blanket the ground.  She figured she even had enough privacy that she could whirl around naked if she wanted to and no one but the magpies would know.  Tonight Willow wasn't spinning around but instead just sitting back, looking at the stars.

She missed this.  The sleeping out in the open was something that she'd grown used to during her travels, and Willow often felt cooped up whenever weather forced her back indoors.  While her backyard lacked the romanticism that came with traveling--the campfires, the sounds of the night creatures, and the strains of the guitars--it was still better than sitting in a gloomy house with only the ceiling above her.  At least this way, she had the familiar stars and moon.

Willow reached for a glass of wine on the table beside her and took a long sip.  That was another aspect of the 'new' Willow.  She had developed a taste for red wine and enjoyed a glass, and sometimes more, almost every night after dinner.  Feeling a little silly due to the boredom, she lifted the glass in the air.

"Here's to change," she toasted to herself, then started giggling.  "Oh, won't you be surprised, Spike?" Willow said to her glass.  "There is just so much you don't know."

Setting her empty glass back down, Willow leaned back and looked for her favorite constellation.  She had just located it, the one known as the Watcher, when she got the feeling that she wasn't alone.

"I knocked but no one answered," Spike's voice came from the side gate,  "I thought I heard you back here."

Willow crowed with triumph inwardly but remained cool on the outside as she looked over to find the vampire walking toward her.  "Sorry, I wasn't expecting company."

Spike hid a smile as he took in the surroundings.  Willow had candles all about the yard.  Some just sitting on the ground, others poking out of bottles that had become covered in multicolored wax to the extent that you couldn't see the bottle underneath.  There was a bottle of wine on the table and two glasses.  <Sure you weren't expecting me, love.>

Willow watched as he noted the candles and the wine  <Egotistical vamp!  I bet he thinks I wait here every night for him!>  "Make yourself comfortable," she said coolly.

Spike took a seat across from her and met her stubborn look with one of his own, but his quickly melted away just from seeing the familiar mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

"It's good to see you, Willow," he said finally with a broad smile.

Her face lit up and her smile easily matched his.  "Now, was that so hard?" she quipped happily.  "Why couldn't you say that a few weeks ago?  It would have saved us a lot of time!"

Spike was taken aback.  "What?  You mean, that's all you wanted me to say?"

"Is that all?  Spike, you barely looked at me when I came back.  You acted as if I had intruded on your life.  I felt like an unwelcome reminder of something you'd rather forget all about."

Spike shrugged and took out cigarette.  "You surprised me, that's all.  Believe it or not, I'd been worried about you since I hadn't heard from you in bloody ages.  I was starting to think that something had happened to you, and then all of the sudden you were standing in front of me," the vampire explained before lighting his smoke and taking a long drag.

"So..." Willow began slowly, trying to decipher Spike's thinking process, "because you were worried about me, that made you behave like an old grump since we all know that big strong vampires like you shouldn't be concerned about one little girl like me, right?"

"In a nutshell, love," Spike chuckled, nodding his head.  "But I'm over it now.  I've come to terms with--"

"Your feminine side?" Willow offered teasingly.

Spike growled playfully.  "I was thinking more like my pathetic need to know that you're okay.  I guess you'd call it my nurturing side.  It's my only personality flaw, really."  Spike waited for a burst of laughter from the redhead or even a loud "Ha!" but instead she looked a little nervous...preoccupied.

Willow took another sip of her wine then ran a finger along the rim distractedly.  "Actually, Spike, I've been around for a few weeks.  I just wanted to make a grand entrance," she started, then paused, trying to find the right words.  "Also, I wanted to make sure that you were, well, alone."

"You were playing stalker to see if I'd made any new friends?" he laughed in disbelief.

"I just didn't want to interrupt anything, Spike.  For all I knew, you could have started a new 'special' family and had lots of little ankle biters running about the place."

Spike smirked but the laughter was gone.  "I didn't make any permanent attachments over the years, Willow.  I've decided I kind of like being a lone wolf; it's a damn sight easier, I can tell you.  And I can have short-term 'friendships' whenever I want."

"I couldn't agree more," she said as she nodded her understanding.  She then turned her attention back to the stars while Spike watched the smoke from his cigarette drift lazily in the night air, deep in thought.

"Wine?" Willow finally asked to bridge the silence.  "It's your favorite color."

The vampire pursed his lips as he studied her, noting the slight blush to her cheeks.  He was curious as to precisely how much she'd already had to drink.

"Wine isn't exactly my cup of tea, but I hate to see a lady drink alone.  After all, what would the neighbors think?"

"They think I'm a fairly well-off young widow, just out of her period of mourning, but not yet ready to face the real world on her own," she said over-dramatically and rolling her eyes.  "So far, they pretty much leave me alone, which is best I think."

"Widow...again?" Spike chuckled.

"It's practically the truth!"  Willow replied as she got to her feet.

"And how did you lose the love of your young life this time, Lady?" he asked in a very posh accent.

"Oh, it was a very tragic, er, blimp accident, Sir.  I fear I shall never love again," she wailed, pretending to cry into her hands.

"Never fear, Lady Smith.  I'm quite sure your heart will go on," he somehow managed with a straight face, but just barely.

Willow looked up in surprised amusement at his movie reference, and before she knew it, the words were out of her mouth.  "I missed you, Spike."

Before she could become embarrassed, Spike fixed her with a wicked smile.  "I know."

"Now's the point where you would tell me you missed me too, if you were any kind of gentleman," she reminded him with a huff.

Spike leaned back in the chair, put his hands behind his head, and closed his eyes.  "Well, I never was a bloody gentleman," he reminded her.

Her eyes narrowed at his familiar conceit.  "Now, before you get all mushy on me, I'll just go get a glass for your wine."

His eyes flitted open and Spike reached for the extra glass on the table.  "Why bother, Red?  Oddly enough, you seem to have an extra one here already?  You weren't waiting for me, were you?"

Willow quickly took the glass out of his hand.  "I don't think you want that one, my husband.  It may still have some Holy Water in it.  I sometimes keep a glass of it out here with me, just in case."

Spike scrambled to his feet.  "Bloody hell, love," he grumbled, eyeing that goblet with distaste.  "You should warn a bloke if you're going to do something as daft as that!"

"Sorry, Spike," she said innocently.  "If I'd known you were coming, I would have put it away.  But I like to spend a lot of time back here at night, and the wine glass is less suspicious than a big bottle with a cross on it," she informed him, then headed for the back door to get a clean glass and another bottle of wine.

"Willow?"  Spike called after her, causing Willow to stop and turn in the doorway.  "I suppose I did miss you...a little...every once in a while...."

Willow's face erupted into a huge smile. "I know, Spike.  I just wanted to hear you say it," she informed him with a wink, and then turned and entered her house.

*****

"I can't believe that we remember so much about life *before*," Willow commented a little later as she poured them both some more wine.  "I still remember most things so vividly, as if it were just yesterday--the songs that were popular, lines from movies obviously, and even the way everyone looks."  <Just none of the important things like soul restoration spells!  Probably since I'd never memorized it in the first place....>

Spike took a sip.  "Another side effect of that damned spell, I suppose.  What amazes me is how bloody lucky we've been so far, Willow," Spike continued.  "No matter how much we seem to balls things up, eventually everything goes the way it should.  Angelus and William are traipsing about Ireland right now, having the time of their unlives, just like I did the first time around.  Soon, they'll hop over to France for a year or two and be a general nuisance there.  Oh, and that's where I'll bag my first slayer, I might add!" he said with a boastful grin.

"Slayers," Willow groaned.  "I guess it's just a matter of time before one of us ends up in the same place as the Chosen One."

"No.  No more annoying little do-gooders in London for another half a century or so, and by then we'll be long gone," Spike said merrily.  "See? Lucky again!"

Willow snickered.  "Luck has nothing to do with it, Spike.  I can't help but wonder how much control we have over our own lives.  It's almost like from the moment you cast that spell, we became someone's puppets.  No matter what we do or where we go, the end result will be the same."

Spike wrinkled his brow in consternation before dropping his stub and grinding out the last dying embers with his heel. "That's a little fatalistic, even for you, Red.  Now, care to explain precisely what you mean by that?"

Willow took another sip of her wine and then a deep breath as she told him the subject of some of her recent journal entries.  "Think about it.  I mean, don't you find it strange that on my first day in Galway, I run into Angelus?  Then, in London the first time I cut through the park at night, I run into you.  Later, once again, just a fluke, Angelus finds me.  Not to mention that time you saw Angelus and yourself in a pub, or the time I met William while you were still alive, and then there was the time--"

"What?"  Spike demanded, bolting out of his chair to crouch in front of Willow.  "What did you just say?"

"I said 'fluke', Spike...not f--"

"Not that!  The part about William...you met him?"

"Oh, yeah, didn't I mention that before?" Willow asked coyly.

"No, Willow," he ground out through gritted teeth.  "You never mentioned that incredibly important little tidbit before.  How could you be so bloody stupid!"

Willow flinched under his ire but brushed it off.  "No need to get so upset, Spike.  We--"

"Did you talk to him?" he interrupted.

"Well, yes, but--"

"How could you, Willow?" Spike said into the hand that was how clutching at his forehead.  He shook his head violently, like he was trying to destroy his thoughts.  When that didn't seem to help he turned to pacing and occasionally throwing his hands up in the air like he were pleading to some higher power for strength.

Willow watched his childish tantrum, a little hurt that he would think she was stupid enough to actually do anything that might harm the timeline.

She started to explain.  "I was just walking by a pub one day and he was standing outside.  He said I looked lonely and sad, and he wanted to buy me a drink to cheer me up."

"And?" he grunted.

Her eyes narrowed at his rudeness, and she felt the need to prolong his torture just a moment longer.  "He told me I was beautiful," she told him truthfully, with a far-away look on her face.

Spike couldn't believe it.  <Why the bloody hell didn't the little chit tell me that William had tried to chat her up before?>  "Oh bloody hell, Willow.  Don't tell me you fell for it?  I, er, *William*, would have asked you what your sign was if *he* thought it would get you in to his bed!"

Willow was growing angrier by the second, and to hide it she quickly took another gulp of wine.

Spike stared at her, his pacing now stopping directly in front of her.  "Well, go on."

Willow knew she should tell him the truth, but she was angry.  "I couldn't help it, Spike," she began, flustered.  "I was intrigued, for some reason.  It was a chance for me to get to know you, before you became, you, and...."

"And?" he urged.

"And we had a few drinks, talked, and, well...."

Spike, tired of her sheepish behavior and stalling tactics, grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her to her feet so that they were face to face.  "Well what, Willow?"

Willow didn't flinch this time; she met him eye-to-eye instead.  "You're an adult, Spike, figure it out.  Or do you want me to draw pictures?  I may need you to pose though."

"Willow..." the irate vampire growled.

"Oh, come on, Spike," she continued mercilessly.  "Obviously we didn't do too much since the spell is still working."

"How much?"

Willow pursed her lips and let her most innocent look fall into place.  "I'm not the kind of girl to kiss and tell."

Spike's jaw fell open and he shook his head in denial, taking a few steps back.  "I, er, I mean, *he* kissed you?"

"No."

Spike visibly relaxed.  "That's a bloody relief.  I don't know what we would have done if--"

"I kissed him," she lied, and the game was on.

Spike's eyes widened in shock momentarily but soon narrowed in disbelief.  It just didn't sound like his Willow.  He strode back to her, studying her face closely for any of the telltale signs that she was lying.  He just couldn't be sure.

"No you didn't."

Willow shrugged. "Okay, then, I didn't.  Whatever makes it easier for you to handle Spike."

Spike upped the ante.  "Prove it."

This time it was the emerald eyes that widened in surprise.  "Excuse me?"

"Prove it, Red.  Kiss me, like you kissed him."

Willow backed away, shaking her head in disbelief.  "You're kidding, right?  Tell me you're kidding, Spike, because that is the most juvenile thing I've ever heard!  How old are you supposed to be anyway?"

Spike disregarded her taunting and kept firmly focused on the subject at hand.  "What's the problem, Willow?  If we've already kissed before, like you said we have, it shouldn't make a difference if we do it now."

"Uh, uh!" Willow exclaimed.  "That was a living William, and you aren't William...or living, for that matter!"

It was Spike's turn to smirk.  "Now who's the one being childish, Pet?  I always knew you weren't mature enough to handle an adult relationship, and this just proves me right, doesn't it?"

Her mouth fell open as she realized the lengths he would go to just to see her blush again.  She quickly figured out his little game, however.

"Don't even try to use reverse psychology on me, buster!" Willow chided, wagging a finger at him.  It was her turn to call his bluff.  "I know perfectly well that you're just trying to goad me into kissing you.  Well, it won't work.  If you want to kiss me so badly, then come over here and do it yourself!"

"Now who's using reverse psychology?  Who's trying to make the big bad vampire seem like less of a demon because he can't ravish one tiny little female?"  The smirk developed into an arrogant smile that encompassed his whole face.  Even his stance seemed to be mocking her, and Willow's fury grew.

Willow glared at him from across the brick patio.  No matter what she said, he would be able to twist her words, making her look like desperate fool.

Seeing her pause, Spike smelled victory but decided to give her a chance to come clean.  "Admit it, Red.  Tell me the truth about your little tete-a-tete with my living self."

A sly smile crept on to her face.  Willow hurried into the house only to stand in the doorway seconds later with a deck of cards.

"You beat me, and I'll tell you the truth, the whole, truth, and nothing but the truth."

Spiked walked to the doorway wearing a grin that equaled Willow's in its potential for mischief.

"Deal."
 

~Chapter Twenty-seven~

Three hours later, all of Willow's make-shift poker chips finally sat in a heap before Spike.  She'd lost, which was not surprising even to her, but what was a surprise was that for the first time she'd won many hands and had been a pretty good opponent.  The game would have lasted much longer if Spike hadn't caught some lucky breaks in the cards that he'd been dealt.

"You've been practicing, both at your cards and your lying," Spike commented through a smirk, curious as to how her skills had improved so much.  "What finally brought out the bad girl in you, Red?"

Willow shrugged nonchalantly, hiding her enormous pleasure at finally being able to hold her own against the vampire at poker.  "Lets just say I met up with some interesting characters during my travels, Spike.  I learned a lot while I was gone.  Sometimes being bad was a necessity...sometimes it was just fun."

After scrutinizing her for a moment, as if he could see the answers in her delicate features if he just looked hard enough, Spike rose from his seat to pretend to study the dishes in the cupboard behind him.  He was much more intrigued to learn exactly what she had gotten up to during her years on the continent as opposed to the pattern of the fine china, but he didn't want it to show.

"Tell me more," he said in a bored tone.  "I could use a good bedtime story."

Willow slowly poured herself another glass of wine and took a thoughtful sip. "No.  I don't want to tell that story yet, Spike.  I think I could get used to being a woman of mystery."

"One silly little secret doesn't makes you a woman of mystery.  I'll admit that you do have a terrific amount of bewildering and exasperating habits, love, but that hardly makes you mysterious.  Just...bloody...irritating," he goaded.

Willow raised an eyebrow and took another sip of her wine.  "Whatever you say, Spike."  A secretive smile curved at her lips even as she held the glass to her mouth.  "Whatever you say."

The perplexed vampire leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms about his chest.  "Now, since obviously you are in no mood to tell me about the recent past, let's go back a bit," Spike said with a familiar smug look on his pale face. "Let's hear the truth about you and William, shall we?"

Wrinkling her brow in a display of mock confusion, Willow set down her glass and stood up to clear the cards and poker chips away.

"The truth?  What's the point?  It changes all the time, doesn't it?"

Spike shook his head.  "Now you're just avoiding the subject, Pet.  We had a deal.  You lost, so now you have to pay the piper.  What happened?  The truth this time!"

Willow paused, looking at her shoes as she struggled with herself for the briefest of moments, but it passed so quickly that even Spike didn't notice it.  She raised her head to catch his gaze.  Capturing his steely blue eyes with hers of emerald, Willow slowly walked across the room to stand in front of him, invading his space like he had done to her so many times before.

"What do you really want to know, Spike?"

"Did you kiss William?"

Willow smiled enigmatically and bit her bottom lip.  The small action caused Spike to lower his gaze and become mesmerized by her soft mouth.

"No," she finally said in a throaty whisper, "I didn't..."

Before Spike had a chance to gloat, Willow reached up, put a hand behind his head and pulled his mouth towards hers.  She kissed the surprised vampire softly and only for a moment.  It had been more years than she cared to remember since she'd last been kissed, and even though she was the instigator, the ethereal redhead was hardly prepared for the sensation of his lips against hers.  Perhaps it was simply because it had been so very, very long, but it hadn't felt like this before...not with Oz, not with anybody.  A spark of primal electricity passed between them that traveled down her whole body, igniting every nerve throughout her petite frame.  The kiss lasted mere seconds, but Willow found it hard to breathe when they parted.  She forced herself to look into Spike's eyes and saw her hunger and confusion mirrored there.

"...But I have now," she continued breathlessly after a hard swallow.  "See.  The truth changes constantly."

"I'm not William," Spike retorted darkly, unable to tear his eyes from her tantalizing lips once again.

"I know, " Willow managed, trying very hard to remain as calm and collected as she'd been before the kiss, even though she now felt like everything they'd been through together had been building up to this moment.  That was when she became aware that her hand was still on the back of his neck, holding his face close to hers.  She slowly drew her hand away, running her fingers along his jaw.  Her eyes recorded her hand's path over every clenched muscle in that side of his face, and as she reluctantly pulled her hand away from him, his face was drawn with it.  Willow was unable to keep her fingers from beckoning him.  This time there was no small talk.  No excuses.

Their mouths met again in a kiss so filled with hunger and desire that it wrenched low moans from both of them.  To the casual observer, if there had been one, it might have sounded as if the kiss were painful, when in truth it was the exact opposite.  It was the cure for everything that had ailed them for decades.  Not that the kisses were delicate or comforting in nature by any means.  They were, instead, very cathartic.  Nor was there anything tentative about their kisses either--no slow building from butterfly-like brushes of lip against lip, to slowly opening mouths and gently probing tongues.  The kisses weren't meant for seduction.  The last near-100 years had been all the seduction they needed.

Willow thought briefly that she should fight this, fight her need for the sometime-enemy, sometime-friend vampire in her arms, but decades of little physical contact with a man made the battle useless.  Her inner conflict was short and soon her hands were running through his hair, lightly caressing the back of his neck, holding him to her.

On the other hand, the thought never crossed Spike's mind that he should fight this.  It was what he'd wanted for a long time now, dreamed of more times than he could recall.  There was no part of him that didn't want this to happen.  Imitating his dreams, the vampire dug his hands firmly into her hips, bringing her slight body soundly against his and thrilling at her rapidly beating heart against his chest.  There was nothing like feeling the response of a woman's body pressed against his own--the quickened pulse, the blood rushing through her veins, even her hot breath as it came out in pants to warm his own cool flesh.  It was one of the best parts of feeding from the living--the side effects of fear in the victim's body.  But this, this was different.  This was not true fear but desire--the desire of a sensual, intelligent woman for a soulless vampire.

Her fate was sealed the moment she felt his firm body against hers, thigh-to-thigh, her soft breasts crushed against his well-defined chest, even through the multiple layers of the chaste Victorian clothing.  Her entire being may have been aflame from the kisses, but wherever their bodies touched, she was positively molten.

Spike's mouth left hers only to trail wet kisses down her throat, drawing whimpers from Willow.  The vampire found the exact spot where he had bitten her a lifetime ago, her last night in Galway, and he nibbled and kissed the area gently, his tongue tracing the light scar that would forever mark her as his.  The thought pleased the demon in him as it sensed how close it was to gaining everything it wanted.  Spike's hand moved to the back of her head, winding itself in her hair before gently pulling back to fully expose her neck to him.  He recalled how she tasted that night, and the thought of once again savoring her unique essence made him growl in spite of himself.

Willow, too, was remembering the same night.  It was the last time he 'd held her this way, only to betray her trust and feed from her.  In the back of Willow's passion-fogged mind, she heard the growl and felt his subtle nips and scratches on her skin, but it didn't repel her.  Instead, knowing that she could drive him to such baser, darker actions made her heart pound.  Somehow, the thought of her power over him frightened her and gave her courage at the same time.  For a change, the confusion felt good and she moaned her approval.

Her soft moans made him tear his mouth away from her slender neck long enough to look into her eyes.  He still held her head by the hair and from her eyes he knew that she was remembering the same night he was.

His face was serious as he stared intently at her.  "Do you trust me?"

It wasn't a matter of trust to Willow.  She knew he wouldn't intentionally hurt her but could he control himself?  Even as his eyes glinted yellow, the color of caution and warning, they also shone with the self-mastery she'd seen there before.  She'd tested him time and time again and he'd always passed.  This was just the final exam.

When she didn't answer immediately, he traced a path down the other side of her neck with his tongue, causing her to clutch at him.  He returned to pierce her emerald eyes once more.

"Do you trust me, my little virgin?" he repeated.

She knew what he was asking.  His words were promising so much.  An end to her loneliness for at least one night, an end to the hunger that had been with her for what seemed like an eternity, but most importantly, a promise to remind her what life was supposed to be about--something they both seemed to have forgotten.  Willow didn't need to think about it anymore.

She reached a hand to his jaw, her finger slowly tracing the outline of the cross-shaped scar that she had put there many years before.  It was so long ago, yet sometimes seemed like just yesterday.  He had destroyed her trust once before, and that was the beginning of a long rebuilding process, which now culminated with them in each other's arms.

Spike's eyes closed under her touch.  The scar momentarily the center of his world as it burned beneath her fingers' exploration.  When he felt her mouth then trace the same path her fingers had, gently licking and scratching in manner similar to the attention he had just given her scar, Spike's need for her grew exponentially.

"Yes" she finally whispered against the raised flesh.

At her lusty confession, Spike's eyes flew open, and he reached for her, dragging her face back to his.  He kissed her possessively, sending an icy shiver down her spine that metamorphosed to warmth in her belly.  His tongue searched out hers, teasing it with quick flicks of his own, almost daring it.  Not one to back down from a challenge, Willow slipped her tongue in between his lips, exploring and probing deeply.  Her tongue slid against his, teasing it with her heat, until she had to pull back for air.  Before she could catch a breath, Spike scooped her into his arms and headed out of the kitchen.

"Willow, where's your bedroom?" he asked deeply.  His gaze traveled the entire length of her body, setting her stomach aflutter again at his frank display of desire.

Willow slowly started undoing the buttons on Spike's shirt as best she could with one shaky hand.

"Upstairs.  Last door on the left," she replied, slipping her hand under his shirt to let it roam over what little of his chest she could reach.

Spike carried her briskly up the stairs.  After kicking the door open, he swept through it to stop in front of the enormous fireplace.  He slowly let go of her legs while still holding her upper body, causing her to languidly slide down the length of him until she was on her feet but still held tightly against the vampire.

Neither spoke or moved for a moment, each one seemingly giving the other one last chance to stop.  They held each other's gaze and never faltered, until Spike finally broke the stalemate.

He lowered his mouth to her cheek, dragging her lips against its softness.  "Are you cold, love?  Do you want me to start a fire?" he whispered against the corner of her mouth then moved to look at her face.

She smiled wickedly, unable to help herself.  "You already have, Spike," she answered huskily, using one finger to trace the line of his collarbone, as he had done to her so many times before.

Needing to take possession of her lips again, Spike's mouth descended to hers.  Much to her dismay, however, it stopped a hair's width away.

"For tonight, Willow, call me William if you want," he acquiesced, before kissing her more softly and sensually than Willow had ever imagined he was capable of.  His seemingly simple offer was anything but, and it created a deep ache in her soul.

Willow surprised Spike by pulling away from the toe-curling kiss.  She leaned back in his arms so that he could clearly see her face.  It was important that the vampire knew she was completely serious.

"No, Spike," she said firmly.  "We are *not* William and Rose or pretending to be husband and wife.  We are Spike and Willow."

Her words confirmed Spike's innermost hopes.  She wasn't deluding herself or pretending he was something other than he was.  She was kissing Spike the vampire, touching Spike the vampire, not the caricature they'd created for the benefit of others.

Before Spike could express his pleasure with her answer, Willow pressed her heated lips to his.  She tasted them, savoring the salty flavor of his skin and nibbling on his lower lip.  Her hands wantonly explored every ounce of skin and muscle beneath her quivering fingertips.  Finally, she finished pulling the tails of his shirt out of his trousers and quickly undid the last few buttons before she pushed it and his coat down off of his hard body.  When his chest was bare to her, she trailed her mouth down his neck, stopping to swirl her tongue around his Adam's apple.  His low groans made her smile briefly before continuing to taste her way down his collarbone.  Meanwhile, her equally as hungry hands slipped around to his back, nails scratching ever so lightly in circles around his shoulder blades, holding him to her.  When her mouth found his nipples, first one, then the other, she wondered at their cold hardness and took turns licking and worrying them with her teeth.  Willow enjoyed the different responses she received for her efforts and let them guide her in pleasing the vampire.

Spike had long ago thrown his head back in submission as she took her time investigating his upper body.  He gave her the time, although it took a heap of willpower not to seize control of the situation and give them the release they both so desperately needed.  He knew that she needed this, and for the moment he was content to intertwine his hands in her long, luxurious locks. When he finally couldn't take any more, Spike used a hand on each side of her face to pull her back up so he could see her flushed cheeks.

"Willow, you've been holding out on me."

She responded with a sexy smile, her eyes equally glazed over with need.  "I think we've been holding out on each other."

She reached out to run a finger across his lips, the lips that she'd seen pursed in anger and frustration and even in amusement, but under her touch, they parted and his tongue darted out to taste her finger.  When he suddenly caught it between his teeth, Willow gasped.  Reflex caused her to try and yank her hand away, but Spike captured her hand with his.  Holding it a prisoner to his mouth, the vampire traced maddening circles along her sensitive palm with his thumb.  The slight pain of his teeth was fleeting and soon replaced only by a throbbing in her loins that echoed the rhythm of his tongue on her slender digit.

"Spike," she hissed, unable to take her eyes off of the spot where her finger disappeared into the cool recesses of his mouth.

Spike finally released her finger at the sound of the unabashed need in her voice, and Willow quickly covered his mouth with her own.  This time Spike took control of the kiss, deepening it.  His fingers moved from her face and the small of her spine, up to the back of her dress.  He was tired of feeling only the material of her gown beneath his fingers.

Suddenly he broke away.  "Damn!" he cursed softly as he fumbled with the first small button on the back of her dress.  "Now I remember another bloody reason why I hate the 19th century!  Willow," he drawled in her ear, stopping long enough to trace it with his tongue.  "How much do you like this frock?  Don't suppose I could just rip the bloody thing off you?"

Willow suppressed a giggle.  Just the fact that he asked surprised her.  "Actually," she said huskily, tilting her head to give him full access to that side of her neck," it *is* my favorite."

With a growl and a last nip at the curve just below her ear, Spike reluctantly let go of the redhead to move behind her.

Willow sighed at the loss of his cool mouth against her fevered skin and the lines of his back beneath her eager hands.

Standing behind her, Spike eyed the long row of tiny white pearl buttons that followed the curve of her spine.  It wasn't that he was out of practice in removing a Victorian style of dress.  It was simply that these types of gowns and buttons were infuriating to even the most experienced seducer, and he found himself suddenly missing zippers.  With a determined clenching of his jaw, he began his assault on her clothing.

She felt his fingers working at the top of her gown and instantly regretted teasing him.  Every second that his fingers labored at the fasteners was one in which the rest of her body started to feel cold and neglected.

As if reading her thoughts, Spike pulled her roughly back against him after undoing the first button.  She turned her head, and his mouth found hers.  All too soon, in Willow's opinion, he pulled back, easing her away from him just to attack the next button.  He repeated the titillating kiss after the second button was released, just to push her away again.  After the third button, he instead let his hands slide down her hips suggestively, then slowly move back up again, just to start his attack on the next little button.

After a few more times of this, Willow found herself unable to stop the moans that escaped between her quivering lips.  It was torture what he was doing to her.  One button at a time he was driving her mad with desire until she felt like screaming.  The next time his hands wandered to her thighs, she grabbed them.

"Spike, please..." she gasped, "just rip the damn dress off already.  I can buy another one!"

Spike chuckled softly against the nape of her neck, pleased that he was able to create such a response in the woman.  "Willow," he whispered against her sweet skin, "you have waited a century already."  His hands wandered to her chest, taunting her further as they circled around her breasts. The vampire carefully avoided any contact with her sensitive nipples, even though there were several layers of material separating his skin from hers.  "Certainly another hour or so won't be too difficult for you to take!"

In a vain attempt to push her breasts into his hands, she put her head back and rested it against his shoulder.  "You are truly evil sometimes..." she whimpered, but still a small smile crossed her lips.

His hands moved back to the buttons, pushing her away slightly, yet again, from his body.  "Yes, and don't you ever forget it."  His voice was dark and dangerous, almost a growl.  It reverberated throughout her body, increasing her need, but he continued to focus the ministrations of his talented hands on the remaining fasteners.

By the time he was able to slide the dress off of her, a dozen or so buttons later, she was beyond all logical thought.  She felt as though if his hands didn't touch her naked flesh soon she would simply cease to be, as every fiber of her being would implode from unquenched hunger.  But even when the dress was pooled about her ankles, his torment didn't stop.  There was still the small matter of the corset, which he easily untied with deft fingers.  One by one, the various layers of undergarments found the floor until Willow stood naked before him, her back still to the blonde vampire.

"Spike...please..." she pleaded and started to turn to face him, needing to press her body against his.

"Don't turn around," he commanded, halting her movement.  His own voice was rough with desire. Although he enjoyed his sensual torment of her, he wanted nothing more now than to explore every inch of her tender ivory skin with his hands and his mouth.  Still, he didn't move to caress her.  Instead he quickly removed the rest of his clothes, kicking the pile away, before grabbing her by the waist and brusquely pulling her back against him.  Their mouths met over her shoulder in a slow sensual kiss as her hand moved to his jaw.  Finally, his slowly-warming hands meandered up to cup her firm breasts.

She moaned into his mouth, instinctively arching her back to push herself further into his touch and was rewarded by Spike brushing the palms of his hands in a circular motion on her hardened nipples.  She tentatively let her other hand move behind her, running along the length of his firm thigh and buttock, sometimes stroking sometimes scratching with her nails.  It was his turn to moan and he pressed his pelvis closer to her.

The vampire turned his attention lower now, moving his explorations to her flat abdomen and hips, slowing moving downward until he found the soft flesh of her thighs.  He squeezed and caressed them, as his mouth moved to her neck, lingering over the pulse points and relishing the feel of her rapidly flowing blood.

Willow couldn't take the torment any more and covered his hands with hers.  The way she slowly nudged them toward where she craved contact the most, drew a dark chuckle from the vampire.

"Impatient little thing, aren't you?" he growled, but before she could think of a suitable retort, all thoughts flew from her mind as his fingers finally brushed against her swollen nether lips.  Her breath caught in her throat as she waited for his exquisite touch again, and before she knew it she had parted her legs a little further, inviting him to stroke her fully.  When his fingers found her sensitive nub and strummed it gently, her legs began to give way and she clutched at his body behind her for support.  Instantly his hands left her, and for a moment she felt lost in a dizzying swirl of desire without his touch before he swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed.

He lay her down but didn't join her on the four-poster bed.  Spike stood there, looking down on her, their eyes meeting.  She gazed up into his steely blue eyes that sparkled with desire, wondering what he was waiting for.  Then her whole body began to flush as she realized he was letting his eyes take in her whole body, making love to her with those penetrating orbs.  They traveled over her, slowly, sensually.  As they did, she could almost feel the heat of his passion as they stopped on her lips, the hollow of her throat, her breasts, wandering down to memorize her firm abdomen and the curve of her hips, then her shapely legs, until finally they came back up to rest upon the small nest of hair that lay between her thighs.  She willed herself to stay still, not to roll over and hide her body from him.  Instead she let him drink his fill of the very sight of her, until his eyes finally returned to hers, hungrier than ever.

"William was right, Willow.  You are beautiful." he said huskily, then moved to join her on the bed.

"No!" she commanded, gesturing for him to stay where he was.  "Now it's my turn."  Willow propped herself up on one elbow.  Slowly, her eyes left his, stopping to admire the sharp curves of his cheekbones and upper lip.  She then devoured every muscle in his chest, even pausing to memorize the outline of his nipples.  She took in his abs, slim torso, and muscular thighs and calves, and finally, with a deep breath, she looked at his long, hardened shaft.  Since she had never really seen a penis close up before, let alone an erect one, the redhead was tempted to move closer to examine it further, but her need overrode her curiosity and she slowly lifted her eyes until they again met his.

The blonde vamp's lips curled into a smile as he saw the outright lust etched all over her flushed face.  Although he could sense her nervousness, there was no fear.

"Do you still trust me, my little virgin?"  When she smiled and nodded, he lay beside her, pulling her to him in a punishing kiss that left her lips slightly bruised and swollen.  His voracious mouth moved to her breasts.  Spike sucked in each nipple and caught them between his teeth, prying gasps of pain-tinged pleasure from deep within her.

As they lay side by side, Willow moaned her encouragement as she ran her fingers lightly through his short hair and over his cheekbones.  Soon that wasn't enough, and she tentatively reached down to lightly stroke his erection.

Spike closed his eyes and threw his head back.  Her naive touches only heightened his raw need for her, and for a brief moment he wondered if he would be able to fulfill his end of the bargain after all.

Willow noticed his hesitation and quickly rolled on top of him to straddle his hips, the feel of his muscular coolness between her legs making her dizzy.  "I trust you, Spike...." she affirmed before planting hungry kisses up the line of his shoulder.  "With my body..." she persisted, her tongue snaked its way from his chin down his neck.  "With my life..." she murmured against his Adam's apple and then scraped her teeth over the hollow of his throat, wrenching a hiss from the vampire.  "With my future..." she continued as she made her way down his body, tasting and licking every contoured muscle.  "And with my soul," she finished reverently, stopping to dip her tongue in his navel.  She couldn't seem to get enough of the taste of his skin and the feel of it beneath her hands.  It occurred to Willow at that point that she was bingeing...devouring Spike like he was a buffet of chocolate desserts after a long, strict diet.  The idea only made her want to sample and savor everything on the menu.

Willow's admissions rocked Spike to the core.  For a vampire to have a living woman's trust was a heady elixir, and his demon howled with delight.  "Oh God...Willow..." he whispered, and he reached for her, trying to block out the demon's demands.

Willow felt his hands wander through her hair, and down her face, tracing the line of her cheeks with strong thumbs, like they were searching for something within her.  When his fingers came in contact with her mouth, she abandoned her ministrations on his stomach to quickly reach out and draw a finger between her teeth.  She sucked on his digit, swirling her tongue around it.  A strange satisfaction grew within her at the sounds of his groans, his barely audible pleas, and the gyration of his hips in longing for more contact with her hot flesh.

"Bloody hell, woman..." he growled, as the erotic sensation of her heated mouth on his hand brought forth from him the strongest of desires.  She felt so good, better than he'd dared imagined all this time.  Wanting to see her, Spike slowly drew his hands up to his face, and Willow along with it.  She stopped her bathing of his digit, only to increase the pressure with her teeth and smile wickedly.  With his free hand, he pulled her head down to his and ran his tongue across her lips, teasing them, until she parted them with a sigh, releasing his forefinger.  He enveloped the hole his departing finger had left, and Willow repeated her actions on his tongue, sucking and nibbling, circling his with her own.

Once again, it took more strength than Spike knew he possessed not to roll over and take her right then and there.  Again he gave her the time she needed to explore him, please him, experiment even.  He couldn't imagine what it was like for her to go for so long without her body being worshipped in the manner that it deserved.  Although he had no idea what she'd been up to in the recent decades, the deep longing was still there.  He was fairly confident that he was the first man she was ever with in such an intimate way, and that pleased him and his demon immensely.

"Willow," he finally said as she pulled away for a much-needed breath, "for a virgin, you sure seem to know a bloody lot about--"

Willow cut him off with a quick nibble on his ear.  "A girl doesn't work for 50 years in pubs and taverns and not learn a few things about sex.  You can learn a lot just by listening" she said haughtily as she sat back and once again lowered her hand to his penis, stroking it more firmly this time.  She was uncertain of what she was doing but she didn't want it to show.  Hearing what men liked and reading about it was different from doing it, but from the sounds emanating from her partner, the guttural moans, animalistic growls and mutterings of her name, she figured she must be doing something right.

Much more of this, and Spike would find his release before she would, and that was not what he wanted or what she deserved.  The vampire pulled her hand away and quickly rolled her over so she was only half beneath him.

"You first, Willow.  I'm nothing if not a gentleman."  His hand moved between her thighs, and she parted them willingly with a sharp intake of breath in anticipation but still he didn't touch her where she most yearned for it.  "Willow, there are a lot of things that I would love to do to you that might mean sacrificing your virginity, but I'm sure we can come up with more than a few creative ways of giving you what you need."

Willow was teetering.  He was driving her insane with need. <I can't believe after all his teasing, all that sexual innuendo, he still wants to talk about it!>  "Spike," Willow said breathlessly, "sometimes you talk too bloody much!"  She raked her nails down his chest, and bucked her hips against his hand, trying to drive home her need for him.

Spike growled in response to her aggressiveness, his eyes vacillating between blue and amber, but he didn't give in.  His languid stroking of her continued, only occasionally brushing against the throbbing center of her need.

"I just want to be thorough," he said through a sexy smirk.

<Two can play at this game!>  She groaned again, simultaneously thrusting her swollen sex toward his agonizing hand while reaching for him.  Her eyes danced deviously as she mimicked each of his strokes.  For every whisper-soft caress of her thigh, she matched it by softly caressing his.  Each casual brush against one of her sensitive areas was repeated on him. Their eyes remained focused on each other, pupils dilating in response to their growing hunger.  Their hands continued their teasing dance until they were both ready to plead with the other for release.  Finally, his fingers concentrated on her center, exploring her wetness, and always careful not to enter her virginal channel.  She returned the favor by grasping his swollen member firmly, stroking in a rhythm that matched his.  Each involuntarily rotated their hips closer to the others hand, until they had found a matching rhythm even though their bodies were joined only by their hands and lips.  When his thumb began a circular motion on her most sensitive nub, Willow felt her orgasm building.  His mouth lowered to her breast, nipping and sucking, pushing her closer to the pinnacle of desire.

Spike felt his climax nearing as well as Willow continued her maddening strokes.  "Come for me, Red," he urged.  "Give yourself to me, Willow."

At the mere sound of his voice, Willow's back arched as her body was overcome by waves of pleasure.  Her free hand clutched at his back, digging into him as is she were holding on for her sanity, and receiving a growl in response.

Spike watched her face intently, loving her unbridled display of emotion as she came, and his urgency increased.  He had to fight to keep control, wanting so badly to enter her and ride her waves from the inside while the demon was insisting for a different course of action.

Willow pried her eyes open to refocus on Spike's face as the waves crashed through her again and again, and she was surprised to find him studying her.  He was struggling to retain mastery of himself, and she could see it.  Her attention to his needs had faltered under the force of her own orgasm, so as the final shudders coursed through her, she pushed him onto his back to half cover him with her upper body.

"Your turn," she managed through ragged breaths.

Spike was confused for only a moment in her sudden change in positions until she renewed her attention to his painful erection.  He marveled for a moment in her unselfishness, but only for a moment as his demon screamed for attention.  He threw his head back and bit his lip, hoping against hope that the taste of his own blood would quell the demon enough for it to stay in hiding, but then an amazing thing happened.  Spike felt her hot hand at the back of neck, urging him up closer to her.  Even as his eyes popped open in surprise, the blue gave way to amber and focused hungrily on her glistening throat.

As the last of the shudders ebbed through her, Willow tilted her head back, exposing herself even more to the vampire.

"Spike," she said breathlessly, holding his mouth to her neck.  "It's okay, I trust you.  Bite me, Spike.  Let me feed you..."

And with a feral growl, he changed completely.  Spike's hands left her body to hold her head to him as his fangs pierced her delicate skin as gently as possible.  He felt her tense momentarily at the initial pain, but soon her gasps were only of pleasure as she surrendered to the erotic sensation of him drawing her life's essence out of her.  He suckled there, devouring her orgasm-spiced blood as she brought him to his own climax with her hands and her blood.  He cradled Willow's soft, warm body against his own as he was wracked with so much pleasure that he feared he would lose consciousness while still drinking from her.

Slowly, Spike regained control and loosened his death grip on her.  After licking soothingly at Willow's new wounds, the vampire found the courage to pull away.  This was the part that he'd never dreamt about.  While in his haunted dreams they must have taken pleasure in each other a thousand times, he always woke up immediately after their release.  He held his breath unnecessarily as he finally moved to gaze into her eyes, only to find them closed and a look of complete fulfillment on her beautiful, flushed face.

Willow curled into his body, overwhelmed with sleepiness.  She could feel him staring at her, but she couldn't force her eyes open.  As she felt herself drift off to sleep, she managed to whisper three small words--

"Thank you, Spike."
 

~Chapter Twenty-eight~

Spike watched her sleep for hours, only getting out of bed to stoke the fire when the flames began to give way to dying embers.  It was a chilly night, and he knew that sleeping next to a vampire could take some getting used to temperature-wise, so he'd started the small blaze soon after Willow had succumbed to sleep.  But that was hours ago, and he was getting impatient.  The vampire shifted a few times in the bed, purposely trying to rouse her, but she didn't budge.  Next he tried clearing his throat at various volume levels, but that also failed to stir the woman that was sleeping soundly next to him.

"Guess I took a little too much blood if I was hoping for seconds," he grumbled to himself.  He wanted her to wake up.  It may have only been a few hours ago that they were wantonly discovering each other's bodies, but it already seemed like an eternity had passed.  Admittedly, part of him was apprehensive of her reaction.  He doubted that sleeping with a demon was on her list of things to do during her school holidays.  Yet she seemed so different now that he figured there wouldn't be a problem.  <Besides,> he reminded himself, <she kissed you, mate!>  A wicked smile curled at his lips as he relived the night in his mind, and he almost didn't notice when Willow finally stirred, shifting in her sleep to face away from him.

"Finally..." he rumbled in anticipation, moving to spoon in behind her.  Spike lazily ran his hand along the curve of her bare hip and was rewarded with a sleepy sigh.  He brushed her hair to the side and drew his tongue along the nape of her neck, trying to pull her out of dreamland.

He knew the moment she awoke because every muscle in her body tensed.  "Morning, Red," he murmured against her shoulder blade.

When she didn't answer, Spike moved his mouth closer to her ear, flicking a tongue out to taste the lobe.  "I think we're all done playing hard to get now, love.  I know you're awake...heart beat increased, et cetera, et cetera, et cetera..."

Then he felt it.  She was shaking, and not from the cool morning air, either.  She was crying.

<Oh bloody hell...I should've known...>  "Willow?"  Spike rose up on his elbow, trying to peer over her shoulder.

Willow's hands moved to cover her face, and she curled into a fetal position.  "Oh God...what have I done?  Oh God...Oh God...Oh God..." she cried into her hands, jerking her body away from the vampire.

Spike pulled back as his touch only seemed to upset her more.  "What the bloody hell are you crying about, Red?" he demanded.

Willow wailed a little louder.  "How could you?" she gasped between sobs.  "I was...I...had too much to drink and you knew that!  How could you?"

Spike bolted upright in bed.  "Hold on a bloody second, Pet!  We may have put back a few drops of wine last night, but you were far from drunk!" he informed her bare back.  "Don't make me remind you who did the kissing?  If anyone should be sobbing their heart out right now it should be me!  Well, if I had one, that is..."

Willow shook her head violently but kept her face hidden between her hands and the pillow.  "No!  You knew I was drunk...Oh God...Oh God...I slept with a demon!  I'll never, ever be able to wear white when I get married now...and what am I going to tell Oz?  I am *so* going to hell for this...Oh God..."

"You're behaving like a bloody child, Willow!"  Spike'd had enough of her immature behavior and was ready to beat some sense into her--or kiss some sense into her--whatever it took.  He grabbed his lover by the back of the shoulders and yanked her to him, shifting so that she was pinned beneath him.

"Now quit your blubbering and look at me!" he demanded, grabbing her hands to try and pry them away from her face.

Willow struggled with all her might, trying to get out from beneath the vampire without removing the hands that hid her face. Unfortunately, Spike was stronger than her and easily pinned her wrists next to her head...revealing her huge grin.

"Gotcha!" she said smugly, lifting her head from the mattress to plant a firm kiss on his bewildered lips.

The blonde vampire tore his mouth away to stare down at Willow's smiling face in disbelief.

"I told you one day I'd get you when you'd least expected it, Spike," Willow gloated, beaming in triumph.  "Okay, so maybe it took a century, but if you could see the look on your face..."  Willow couldn't stop herself from laughing, and she didn't even try.

Spike wanted to be furious with her, but her expression quickly evaporated all of his anger.  Willow was laughing, really laughing--the genuine kind that came from deep inside, perhaps from her soul itself--not a polite chuckle or an embarrassed giggle that was forced from the throat.  He could see it in her eyes as they glimmered brightly with the simple joy of being alive.  He hadn't seen her like this in a very long time.  He wondered if he ever had.

The vampire couldn't stop the smile that crept on to his face.  Her apparent happiness was contagious.

"Now, that wasn't very nice, love, was it?"

Willow offered only a mild struggle against his hold on her, and she lifted her head again for a quick nibble on his jaw.

"I can't believe how gullible you are, Spike," she murmured against his skin.  "Or that you really thought I would fall apart after a night with you."

Spike's eyes half-closed in pleasure as she scraped her teeth over the scar.  "I've never been so bloody relieved to be wrong in my whole life, Red."

Willow lay back down to look at him for a moment.  "To be honest, I actually woke up a little earlier than you realized," she started innocently.  "I was waiting to see what your reaction was going to be.  I, well, I half-expected you to be long gone, but then I heard your bad attempt at a fake cough, and all your mumbling, and, well, I couldn't help myself."

Spike almost looked hurt...almost.  "You thought it was going to be 'wham, bam thank you, ma'am'?"

"Well, I was thinking more along the lines of 'grope, bite, let's do this again sometime next century, Red'."

Spike slowly slid their clasped hands from next to her head to further up the bed.  At the same time, bringing his face closer to hers.

"You're going to have trouble getting rid of me now, Willow."

Willow had to bite her lip to keep from smiling.  "Really?"

"Of course," he teased, taking over the biting of her lower lip.  "This place is a damn sight better than mine," he went on, now focusing his attention on her collarbone.  "You must have a few servants running around to keep it up.  A bloke like me could get used to having a maid around to tidy up after him.  Vampires weren't meant to wash their own clothes, you know.  That's what we have minions for."

Willow's head arched back into the pillows, and she wriggled beneath him, trying unsuccessfully to free herself from his grip so she could touch him.

"Is that the only reason you want to stay?  So you can kiss your pesky ring-around-the collar problems good-bye?" Willow asked coyly, having to satisfy herself with running her bare foot up the back of his calf.

Spike tried to ignore the sensation of her naked flesh teasing his, but it wasn't easy.  "That's not the only reason, Red," Spike replied with a sultry smile before dipping his head to nibble beneath her ear.  "I've never been very good at getting blood stains out of my clothes either."

"Well, if that was the only reason you wanted to stay," she said calmly, playing along, "you might as well go now.  I've no live-in servants.  Of course, if you want to save some money, you're free to move into the room across the hall and have your own bed...if that's what you want.  It hardly gets any sun at all."

At her words, Spike looked up from her neck to stare into her fiery eyes.  "I'll take that room across the hall and my own bed," he told her flatly.  Seeing the disappointment in her eyes that he was hoping for, he continued huskily, "but you'll be in it.  It's where you belong."

Before Willow could form a word, the vampire released her wrists and rolled on to his side, taking her with him.  He grasped her face softly between his hands and kissed her, chastely at first, as if he were afraid she would shatter under his touch, then letting it peak slowly until Willow was sure that her toes were curling.

When she pulled away to refill her lungs, he began playing with her auburn tresses.  He just couldn't seem to stop touching her.

"I can't believe how much time we've wasted when we could've been doing this for the last 100 years," Spike groaned softly, seemingly mesmerized by the feel of her soft hair between his fingers.

"I don't think so, Spike," Willow replied when she'd caught her breath.  She slid a leg intimately between his and smiled at the moan she received in return.  "I think I needed the full century before I could face sleeping with the devil."

"I'm not the devil, love, but flattery will get you everywhere."  Spike's ravenous eyes slowly raked over her body, his hands and mouth following more slowly.

Willow sighed in contentment.  They were in no hurry and happy to battle with words while they languidly discovered each other's bodies, like they had all the time in the world.

"Well, I still feel it's a bloody shame..." he murmured against her breast a little while later.

Willow smirked.  "No, it's much better this way.  Otherwise, you know what would happen..."

Reluctantly, Spike ceased his mouth's ministrations to her sensitive flesh, sensing another one of Willow's 'discussions' coming up.  He moved up to lie next to her on the pillow.

"No, but I have a feeling you're going to tell me whether I want to hear it or not."

"It's inevitable," she teased.  "You'd fall madly in love with me, and then I'd have to share you with Drusilla, and I'm not good at the whole chick-fighting thing, so--"

Spike silenced her with a punishing kiss.  "Let's do each other a little favor, shall we?" he growled as he slid a knee between her legs, parting them.  "If you won't mention Dru, I won't mention Jo-Jo the dog-faced boy, all right?"

"Spike..." she answered in a warning tone, "his name is Oz."  An evil glint appeared in his eyes that caused an aching in her belly.

"Whatever, Red.  Do we have a deal?"

"Yes...deal..." she moaned, and thoughts of making Spike pay for insulting Oz quickly fluttered away at the sensation of his cool hand moving down to her thigh.

Spike's teasing was relentless, both verbally and physically.  "Now, don't you wish we had been doing this instead of arguing all this time?"

"Yesss...." she hissed.  However, one nagging thought wouldn't let her surrender herself to pleasure.  Not yet, anyway.  "Wait... no...I mean 'no', Spike," she stated firmly.

Spike drew his eyebrows together in irritated confusion, unconsciously clenching his jaw and pursing his lips at the same time.  "And why not?"

Seeing her favorite expression on the blonde vampire, Willow almost forgot about what she was going to say, wanting instead to kiss every tightened muscle in his beautiful face.  But this had to be said, and better sooner than later.

Willow took a deep breath and let it out slowly before she spoke.  "Because I couldn't have done this..." she said, indicating them and the bed, "before...not without being in love."

Spike didn't move, waiting for the inevitable Willow-speak to follow where she would try to babble her way out of the words she'd just uttered, usually only embarrassing herself further.  It never came.

As she saw his confusion give way to her least favorite expression--that of complete, unreadable blankness--Willow shook her head.  "Why are you looking at me like that, Spike?  I'm not in love with you."  She paused, looking for a reaction in him, but he didn't even blink.  "And you're not in love with me either," she continued matter of factly.

Spike pulled back a little further to see if she was playing some sort of mind game, but he saw no deceit in her eyes, only desire.  He thought for a moment.  "No.  I'm not."  It was his turn to pause and look for the inevitable hurt in her eyes, but it wasn't there.

"You still love, Drusilla." Thinking that she was about to be scolded for mentioning the vampiress's name, Willow hurried on.  "Now, I know you don't want me to talk about her, and I promise I won't once I finish what I have to say.  I mean, she's why we're here, after all--because your love for Drusilla is so strong that you would break heaven and earth to have her back, and also because my love for my friends is so strong that I agreed, sort of, to this insane plan."

Spike felt a pang of guilt at the mention of his Dark Goddess's name, and he had trouble pushing it away like he had so many times before.  "Willow, I--"

Willow noticed his pain as well.  "Shhh..." she murmured before silencing him with a soft kiss.  "I know you still love her, Spike.  I'd be disappointed in you if you didn't.  It's really very romantic...in a bizarre, hellmouthy sorta way."  Her smile faded as she caressed the scar she'd given him.  "But, I want you to know that I would do anything for you.  You're as important to me now as Buffy or Xander...even Oz," she added softly.  "I'll do whatever it takes to get Drusilla back for you, whether that means sucking more stakes out of your back or hiding in this house for the next hundred years.  Believe it or not, for some stupid reason, more than anything, I want you to be happy."

In a move so fast that it left Willow dizzy, Spike flipped her over, straddling her hips.  "Drusilla's my future, Willow.  You and I have five more years before she even moves to London, let alone is turned.  I don't plan on wasting them the way I have the last century.  Right now, all I bloody well want is you, my wife."

Spike's eyes burned into Willow's, sparking a fire that they both doubted would die out in five years.  They found themselves at a loss for words.

Eventually, Spike broke the spell.  "Well, Red, since we both agree that we won't be giving each other little bloody candies that say 'I heart you' next February 14th, are we done talking?"

"Geez Spike," Willow giggled, "if I didn't know you better, I'd think you were disappointed that I haven't fallen in love with you.  Maybe you were hoping I'd mope over you until the day I die?" she teased.

The sinister smile that enveloped Spike's lips as they hovered above hers, made Willow giddy with desire.  Before she gave herself over to it, she heard him say, "Until the day you die, and then some, Red."

*****

This time, Willow watched Spike sleep for an hour or so before feeling the need to be alone.  She pulled on her nightgown and quickly padded down the stairs.  After starting a small fire in the parlor, she picked up her guitar and softly strummed it.  Willow had a nagging need to lose herself in her music for a while because no matter how strong and mature she wanted Spike to think she was, it was still a little overwhelming to be sharing a bed with him after all of those years.  She had fought her desire for him for so long, that in some ways she was disappointed with herself.  It wasn't that she felt guilty for betraying Oz because one hundred years was a very long time to try and stay faithful to someone that there was no guarantee you'd ever see again.  She missed Oz, as well as her other friends and family, but she couldn't put herself on hold forever.  She only hoped when she saw them again, that they would all understand and things would quickly get back to normal.  Obviously, her sleeping with Spike was only going to make things harder in the long run.  However, when she remembered the feel of his mouth on her body and the sensations his hands had evoked in her that she didn't even know existed, she didn't care how difficult it would get later on down the road.  Willow wanted to feel this way for the next five years and would deal with the aftermath when the time came.  Besides, she'd spoken the truth.  She didn't love him, not in the romantic sense anyway, but she did love being with him.  In spite of everything, he made her happy, and she hoped that in some strange way she made him happy too.

Lost in her thoughts, her fingers had begun a song on their own.  Sometime later, Willow was actually surprised to realize what song she'd been absentmindedly strumming.  She hadn't played it in years, maybe even decades, but she could still remember the first time she'd heard it.

The sky had been so clear that night, the stars that hung above her had twinkled so brightly that she'd felt as if she could reach up and pluck them like apples.  Willow had lain on her back for hours, watching them, when she'd noticed that the music around her had changed.  The rapid rhythms and laughing voices had quieted down as soulful melodies filled the air.  The music had been so powerful and moving that tears had been streaming down her face, even though she didn't understand the words.  That night she'd promised herself that one-day she'd play that song.

Willow smiled softly to herself, quietly humming the folk song, even though she now knew how to speak its language fluently.  Maybe she couldn't play the intricate song as well as her teachers did that night as they sat around the fire, sipping their wine, but Willow knew she wasn't half bad.

***

When the vampire had awakened to an empty bed, he immediately thought that his Willow was up to another one of her tricks.  His lips curved into a smile.  Spike loved to play games, and Willow just seemed to be full of surprises.  Then he heard the soft strains of music wafting up the stairs from below, and he was even more puzzled.  Spike pulled on his trousers and crept down the stairs to investigate.  His rarely used-breath caught in his throat when he saw her.  His lover's bare feet were up on the sofa, and her hair was strewn about her shoulders in a way that only partially hid his newest marks.  Willow's delicate hands that, only a few hours ago were giving him such pleasure, were now holding a guitar in a similarly intimate manner.  He watched for a while, fascinated by the melancholy sounds she was creating.  Finally he reached a point where his body wouldn't allow him to remain at such a distance from her any longer.

"I take it all back, Red.  You're definitely a woman of mystery."

Willow looked up from her music to see him lounging in the archway, and the sight of him half-dressed and sleep-rumpled made her heart race.

"I hope I didn't wake you," she said honestly.

Shaking his head no, Spike sauntered toward the red-haired musician.  As he went to sit beside her on the deep golden velvet sofa, he took note of the room.  One wall was all bookcases, filled to overflowing with texts of various sizes.  An enormous writing desk that was partially obscured by scattered papers occupied a nearby corner, and much to his surprise, in the opposite corner was a rare commodity for that time--a piano.  The remainder of the space was filled with a couple of reading chairs, lamps, the usual, but all obviously expensive and of magnificent quality.  <How the bloody hell did she come by this place?  That piano alone must be worth a king's ransom...>

After taking a seat, Spike leaned back against the arm of the sofa, opposite from Willow.

"Now, are you finally going to tell me what you've been up to?" he asked, bringing his bare feet up on the luxurious material and sliding them between hers.

Fighting a sudden odd urge to play footsie with the notorious vampire, Willow grinned sheepishly.  "Well, you told me to get a hobby, and this is it.  I've always wanted to learn how to play, but I never had enough time, until now.  Plus, I figure it'll give me something in common with Oz when I get back."

His eyes narrowed at the mention of Oz's name.  "I'd been thinking more along the lines of needlepoint when I suggested it, love," he said a little more coolly than he intended.  "How'd you learn to play so well?"

"Oh, some very talented and patient teachers and a lot of spare time."

Spike considered her words for a moment.  It was obvious that she still wasn't ready to tell him everything, but that was okay.  He'd have five years to find out the truth, and he looked forward to trying various means of extracting it from his newly enigmatic companion.

"Can you at least tell me what that sad song you were playing is about?"

Willow looked at him, biting her lip playfully.  "Well, I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you."

Spike laughed in spite of himself.  "Since I'm already dead, love, there shouldn't be anything stopping you for telling me everything you know."

"Well, the lyrics are in a different language, but basically it's a tale of a boy and girl who are best friends, but are torn away from each other because of feuding families.  Years later, they see each other again, but both are to be wed to others, and they're now sworn enemies."

Spike snickered.  "Sounds like a load of romantic tripe to me, love.  Let me guess," he said, leaning over to take the guitar out of her arms.  "There's a horrible fight of some sort, and their partners-to-be die tragically."  He strummed an awkward chord, causing him to purse his lips in frustration.  "Am I right so far?" he asked without looking up from the strings.

Willow smiled.  She didn't know he even played the guitar.  "Yes, that's about the gist of it so far."

The vampire managed a couple of chords, trying to familiarize himself with the instrument that he hadn't touched since the 1980's.

"And then," he said, producing a few minor chords for drama, "the star-crossed lovers find each other again, solve all the world's problems by showing the families how very terribly wrong killing is, and then they make beautiful love as the sun sets in the west..."

The redhead took her guitar back, and played a few sad strains while she spoke.  "Not exactly.  There *is* a war and their new loves *do* die, but the two old friends hold each other responsible for their lovers' deaths.  They blame each other and never get over it, vowing that they never want to see the other again.  Years later, she dies of a broken heart, and he kills himself."

Spike's eyes widened in surprise.  "Nice story," he snorted.  They were silent for a moment while Willow finished the last few strains, then Spike spoke up again.  "But I bet they meet again in another life, or something equally nauseating, and live happily ever after!" he announced triumphantly.

Willow simply shook her head. "Nope.  They both just die.  End of story."

Spike grunted in surprise and looked around the room again.  "Well, that's pretty bloody depressing, Red, so why don't you cheer me up and tell me how you managed to get this massive roof over our head?"

"I'm just renting it...house-sitting, really.  The owners apparently have several homes all across Europe and won't need this one for a while.  You should've seen the solicitor's face when I asked if I could pay for the whole year up front, and that I'd likely need it for five years all together!"

"Surprised you didn't give him a heart attack.  Even now the lawyers are bloody money-hungry sods, and they call vampires blood suckers!" Spike snickered, causing Willow to roll her eyes once again at his bad pun.  "But, how can you afford it?"

Willow smiled mischievously.  "Let's just say I was very frugal during our years apart.  I even managed to make a little money as well,. Actually, I still have a considerable amount of the money that you *loaned* me left."

"More secrets?"  Spike slid closer, took the guitar out of her arms, and placed it carefully on the floor before lifting her onto his lap.  "What about men, my wife?  Did you fancy any of those Italians?" he whispered against her cheek as his hand caressed her thigh.

Willow shuddered beneath his touch and struggled to concentrate on the right words.  "No.  I--I thought about it a couple of times, but it just wouldn't work.  Some guys tried, but I just couldn't get involved.  I figured I have enough men in my life already...Oz, Xander, even Angelus in a bizarre way...and you."

"But only one that matters right now, love," he reminded her, barely brushing his lips across hers.  Spike found himself strangely relieved to know that she hadn't been with any other men since her last abrupt departure.

Willow touched his cheek with a shaky hand.  "What about you, Spike?"

For a moment he vacillated between telling her the truth or lying, but he decided on the truth.  In the long run, it would be easier.  "I can't say I've been quite as well behaved," he began casually.  "There were a few women, but not many--mostly other vampires that I knew weren't connected to Angelus in anyway.  Sometimes for a night, sometimes for a week.  I staked the stupidest ones and just walked away from the others.  I'd forgotten how incredibly dull and simple the average vampire is...especially the women since they aren't usually chosen for their brains."

While he was talking, Willow moved one finger slowly over his chest.  "Spike, you don't have to explain.  You're a male and you're a demon.  The two hardly add up to a life of chastity, do they?"

Spike shook his head slowly in amazement at the women in his arms.  "So you lived here in this huge house, all alone, having had no male contact until last night?"

"I wouldn't quite say that.  Remember, I haven't been in this house for long, and besides, I'm not all alone..."  She whimpered as Spike began licking at the fading remains of the puncture wounds he'd left on her throat.  "A lady comes in three times a week to help with the...house...food...and--"

Spike cut her off with a searing kiss, letting her know that in his opinion they had talked enough.  He had other things in mind for how they were to wile away the morning hours.  With a low growl, Spike stood with her in his arms, intending take her back upstairs.

"Uh, Willow?" he asked, almost as an afterthought, "when exactly does your help come in?"

She found it difficult to think clearly since all she had on her mind was getting her hands on his naked body.  "Um, three days a week...Mondays, Wednesdays, and..."

Just then, the front door opened, and a large, middle-aged woman came bustling in.

"...Fridays," Willow ended despairingly.

At the sight of her employer in the arms of a half-naked man, the older woman screamed in surprise and dropped her umbrella and bag.  "Oh, beggin' yer pardon, Mum," she said as she began to flush bright red.  "Please, Mum, I'm ever so sorry.  I'd no idea that you were, well...Oh, please, lady, I beg yer pardon," she stammered, forcing her gaze to the floor.

Willow sighed and rolled her eyes in frustration at Spike, who was not only enjoying the older woman's distress and Willow's embarrassment, but had yet to set her down.

"Spike, please, put me down," she whispered in his ear.

He reluctantly placed her on her feet, but not without pinching her bottom as he did so.

Willow shot him a dirty look before turning her attention to their flustered guest.  "Mrs. Andrews, um, it's okay, really.  This is just my, er...brother--"

"Cousin," Spike interjected at the same time, not that he thought the servant would buy it for a second.

The older English woman looked up from the floor to cast a skeptical eye on the couple.  "Of course, Mum.  'Tis no business of mine, anyway."

Willow felt like smacking the smirk off of Spike's face, or licking it off, she couldn't quite decide.  "Mrs. Andrews, this is William.  He's a dear old friend of mine--"

"Very old," Spike added, unable to help himself.

"I've known him almost my whole life," she continued.

"And then some!" he joked, dodging the elbow that Willow thrust in his direction.

Willow hung her head for a second in defeat, then took a deep breath.  "He's my lover, Mrs. Andrews," she stated firmly, surprising the vampire next to her.  Willow looked up at him as she finished.  "And I think he'll probably be staying here, with me, for a while."  It was more of a question than a statement, and Spike's eyes flashed a hungry amber in answer.

"Beggin' yer pardon, Mum," the maid said, trying to hide the blush in her cheeks at the young people's frank display of desire.  "But ya don't need to go explainin' yerself to me.  Yer a young widow, out of yer period of mourning.  You've already known enough loss in yer short life, and I'm not one who believes that a woman necessarily needs to be wearin' a gentleman's wedding ring before he can make her happy."

It was Willow's turn to be shocked.  "Thank you, Mrs. Andrews.  I appreciate your understanding and decorum in this matter."

"No need to be thankin' me, childe," she said brightly.  "Life's short.  We must find our happiness wherever it lies.  Me third husband taught me that," she added with a wink.

Spike scooped the redhead back into his arms, causing Willow to shriek in delight.  "Well, now that we have Mary Poppins' approval, let's get back to where we were..."

Willow giggled in spite of herself as Spike nipped her quickly on the neck.  He swept past the woman on his way to the staircase, but the redhead tapped on his shoulder, asking him to wait.

"Mrs. Poppins...I mean, Mrs. Andrews...why don't you take the day off, with pay, and I'll see you on Monday," she offered over Spike's naked shoulder.  She desperately wanted to have a little taste of his enticing skin but behaved.

The woman smiled knowingly and grabbed her umbrella and carpetbag.  "Thank you, Mum.  You have a good day, too, Mum.  Oh, and Sir?"

Spike turned to look at her in surprise while still cradling Willow close in his arms.

"If ya don't mind me askin', would ya try and get her to eat a little sumthin'.  She looks even paler than usual today, Sir."

Willow held her breath, waiting for some smart-ass comment from the vampire, but he surprised her yet again.

"Thank you for your concern, Mrs. Andrews.  I'll see to it that we are both well fed in your absence," he informed her in all seriousness.  Spike then turned and continued carrying Willow back up the steps.

"Good-bye, Mrs. Andrews," Willow offered unabashedly over Spike's shoulder, unable to keep the smile from her face.

"Good day, Mum," the woman returned with a wistful smile and a small curtsy--even though Willow had told her weeks before that there was no need for such formality.  She left, closing and locking the door behind her.

"Spike," Willow whispered against his lips when she heard the door close behind the woman, "you mentioned something last night about having a few creative ways of giving us what we need?"

"I think I recall something like that," Spike said as he kicked the bedroom door closed behind him.

"Show me all of them, Spike."

In response, the vampire tossed her on to the enormous bed, pausing at the foot of it to watch her with lust-laden eyes.  Finally, just when Willow thought she would have to look away in embarrassment, he began crawling slowly up the length of her bed.

Willow watched him move with a sensual cat-like grace, the muscles in his arms and chest rippling with each deliberate movement.  She held her breath when he reached her legs and paused in his predatorial approach to run an appreciative hand up her silky calf.  She couldn't tear her eyes away from his face.  Willow was fascinated as his jaw clenched in a concerted effort to maintain his control as his gaze traveled along her bare skin.

As his hand moved higher, pushing the nightgown over her knees and sliding it smoothly up her thighs, she saw something in his face. She wasn't sure if she'd seen it before, but it was definitely there--under the desire, under the tough-guy exterior.  Maybe she'd never noticed it because he simply wasn't capable of it earlier, but it was obvious to her now.  Spike was actually happy--not just putting up with her to simply pass time--but genuinely happy, and she'd made him that way.  The realization that she could make a man--and a vampire, no less--that content, multiplied her need to touch and please him.  And while his lean body may have hovered only inches above her, the way Willow was feeling, it might as well have been the Grand Canyon that separated them.

His voice was as dangerous as his eyes when he spoke.  "You want me to show you all of them?" he finally asked.  "Well, that should keep us busy for the first two years, Red, but after that, we might have to start repeating ourselves."  An anticipatory grin slowly formed on his face.

"Only two years?" she sighed as she wrapped her arms and legs about him, pulling him down to her.  "Then obviously you haven't done enough research."
 

~Chapter Twenty-nine~

"How did you learn so much about the stars?"  Spike asked, trying to look at the sky and watch where he was walking at the same time.  It was a rare, clear night in London.  The weather conditions had kept the normal fog from blanketing the land the past couple of nights.  As a result Willow had insisted that they go for a walk together shortly after nightfall.

"I read a lot.  When you have a lot of time to read, well, you end up with a head full of fascinating but useless information."  Willow felt a little ache at her words.  She didn't like lying to Spike, and while she wasn't really lying, she wasn't telling him the full truth either.  She'd explain everything to him in time, but for now, she had to keep up her role as a woman of mystery.

When they reached a part of the street that was darker and had a good view of the sky, Willow put a hand on Spike's shoulder to stop him.  Pointing up to a small gathering of stars in the east, she smiled as fond memories of countless nights spent sleeping under the stars came to mind.

"Some, um, nomadic tribes call that one The Watcher, believe it or not.  If you look carefully," she told him as she tried to paint a picture in the sky with a finger, "you can see kind of an outline of a face.  Now, see how it looks as if it is facing west?  It's watching for the evil that comes with the setting of the sun, apparently--ever vigilant against the forces of darkness."

As Willow quickly recounted the story, her other hand remained on his arm.  They were so comfortable with each other now that it was quite common for them to be touching whenever they were together.  Spike, she'd learned, was a very tactile vamp.  When he wasn't trying to control himself, his hands would be caressing her bare skin or playing with her hair.  Willow was much the same.  Having so long been denied the basic human pleasures of touch and affection, she found it hard to stay away from him.  They were like children on Christmas morning playing with their new toys.

After their first night together, Spike had never really left.  Slowly, his things ended up in her home, his clothes hanging in the wardrobes; his arms holding her during the hours they slept.  It happened so naturally that they never gave it much thought.  Their relationship had grown to more than convenience, but it wasn't love.  After all, Spike had--or would soon have again--Drusilla, and Willow had....

That was a good question and one that Willow puzzled over on the rare occasions that she let herself think about the future in that way.  She knew she had Oz to come home to, and Willow was thankful for that.  In fact, she couldn't wait to see his face when it appeared as if she'd learned how to play the guitar overnight!  However, in the back of her mind there was always Angelus, and it irked her to no end that she couldn't forget about the Irishman.  Partially out of embarrassment but also because she doubted he would really understand, Willow never mentioned her confusion to Spike.  Instead, she scolded herself for her own immaturity and forced her thoughts back to her future with Oz.  In the end, Spike would have his Drusilla, Willow would have Oz, and all would be right with the world.

Nevertheless, even though they both knew their futures held different paths and they both knew that the other realized this as well, the subject was never brought up again after that first night.  Instead of talking about it, they would occasionally sleep alone--Spike taking over a room on the other side of the hall that received little light, while Willow tossed and turned in hers.  It didn't happen very often, but a few times she'd gone to bed in her own room, and he didn't join her.  Sometimes it was the other way around since they actually spent more time in his darker room than in hers.  The days, or nights, that they woke up alone were also never really discussed.  They both knew why they did it.  They were simply weak attempts at proving that they didn't need each other.

Despite the occasional long and lonely night, the time passed quickly--more quickly than it did before--and she was content.  Yes, life was pretty good for Willow, except for the dreams.

The dreams had started the day after her first night with Spike, and she had them almost every time she'd slept since--day or night, alone or in his arms.  The dreams were often about her and Spike getting carried away in their lovemaking, one way or another, and the consequences that followed.  They usually weren't terrifying, but they were always disturbing, and she often awoke with an impending sense of doom.  Her rarer dreams, the ones of Angelus, were another matter entirely.  Those horrifying nightmares usually bolted her awake, screaming or crying.  Even the less violent ones, which in many ways were even more disquieting, at the very least made her blood run cold.  Nevertheless, tonight as she walked beneath familiar starry skies, it was easy to push aside the vague feelings of unease and completely relax.

Spike smiled down at her upturned face, ready to tell her that she was the most intelligent woman that he'd every known, when something caught his eye.  He found himself doing a double take to look at a group of people that were walking in his direction on the footpath.

It took Willow a moment before she realized that Spike was no longer looking at the sky.  He was staring off into the distance, his face a study in utter bewilderment.  When she could pull her eyes away from his enraptured face to follow his line of sight, she was still confused as to what could have him so perturbed.

Walking slowly toward them was a group of women and children.  By their dress, Willow guessed that they had just come from mass.  The two women spoke fervently back and forth, while several younger children giggled and played as they shuffled along behind them.  <Nothing unusual there...> Willow commented to herself.  <So, what's the problem?>  That was when she saw her...the tall, slender girl in the background, walking with her head down, clutching her bible in front of her with one hand and her rosaries with the other.  It was Drusilla.  A younger Drusilla, in her early teens at most, but there was no mistaking her.  Willow could see that her lips were moving, and the redhead assumed that she was saying her rosaries.  The future vampiress walked as if she were afraid to be noticed or that if she diverted her attention for even one moment from her prayers, God would strike her down.  Drusilla was a study in devotion and penance.

Willow turned her attention back to Spike to find his pale face contorted with conflicting emotions.  She squeezed his arm gently, offering a few soft-spoken words of additional support.  "Careful Spike, you--"

Before she could finish, the vampire ripped his arm out of her delicate grasp and took a step closer to Dru as she continued to approach them unawares.  The other women and children were too caught up in their conversations and gossip to pay any mind to the strange man staring unabashedly at the quiet girl that followed a bit behind, and they passed Willow and Spike with nary a glance.  The young Drusilla almost seemed to be in a trance-like state.  Willow doubted that she would even notice them, so caught up in her prayers and thoughts was she.  Then, just as the dark-haired girl came level to the time travelers, close enough that they could touch, Drusilla's eyes rose and found Spike's.

In Willow's romantic mind, she waited to see some precognitive spark in the girl's haunted eyes.  Instead there was only shyness and confusion in the brunette when she met Spike's needful gaze.  How Spike managed to stay in control, Willow didn't know.  In the instant that the future lovers' eyes had locked, the redhead saw hope burst into life in the vampire's face, only to be extinguished just as quickly when Drusilla moved by without even a flash of recognition.  Spike turned to watch Drusilla pass, his face a mask of pain and confusion.  Once again Willow stretched out a comforting hand, but Spike quickly fell beyond her reach as he began to follow the small group.

Willow dashed forward, grabbing Spike by the arm.  "Spike, you can't...not yet!  She's too
young--"

Spike whirled around on her, grabbing her outstretched arm angrily.  "Don't you bloody-well tell me what to do where Dru is concerned!  This is none of your business!" he lashed out violently, pushing her away.

Willow barely managed to stay on her feet as she stumbled backwards, watching as Spike turned around and rushed to follow Drusilla.  As romantic as it all was, Willow would not allow that child to be turned.  Spike was just confused and couldn't see straight.

"Not while I'm still breathing..." Willow muttered under her breath as she set herself in motion.  Running full speed in her high-laced boots, she quickly caught up with Spike, who was trying to reach Dru before she disappeared down the dim streets.  Thankful that no one was about at the moment to see her unlady-like display, the redhead threw herself at Spike with all the energy her petite frame could muster, concentrating on the back of his knees.

The unsuspecting vampire was propelled forward by her weight.  They toppled to the ground in a heap, Spike recovering only enough to let his hands take the weight of his fall.

"You'll regret this, Spike.  I can't let you turn her yet.  She's too young.  She isn't your Dru!"  Willow explained breathlessly, ignoring the string of obscenities that flew past his lips.

As Spike struggled to get out from under her weight and watch Drusilla at the same time, he was enraged even further to find that his view of her departing form was blocked from the ground.  Between him and his beloved there were shrubs, lampposts, and even benches.  "God dammit, if you don't get the bloody hell off of me right now I'll--"

Suddenly his view was completely blocked by a pair of dark trousers above some very large feet.

"What seems to be the trouble, Miss?" a deep, commanding baritone voice boomed from above him.  "Is this man bothering you?"

Willow was as surprised as Spike by the sudden appearance of the bobby, but knowing that she wouldn't be able to restrain Spike on her own, she turned on her charm.

"Oh, thank heaven you're here, kind officer," Willow wailed over-dramatically as he helped her to her feet.  "This gentleman, and I use the term loosely, stopped me just a moment ago and whispered awful things to me.  I thought I would swoon, he was so crude!"  Willow could see over Spike's shoulder that Drusilla's group had hailed a carriage.  She needed to distract Spike only a few minutes longer, and they would be out of sight.

"Willow...this isn't funny..." Spike growled softly, for the moment preoccupied, but she ignored him.

"I was just walking home from mass," Willow continued in her best upper-class British accent and slyly pulling out her cross, "when a man came out of nowhere, grabbed me, and started whispering vulgarities at me.  I did not see his face, but I am sure it was him!"

As quite a crowd was now gathering, Spike had enough sense not to vamp out and kill the lawman.  Instead, he tried to twist around to see his beloved Drusilla, but the expanding throng of onlookers now blocked his view.

"Did you get a good look at the bloke, Miss?  Are you sure it was 'im?" the large, uniformed man inquired as he grabbed Spike by the collar of his coat.

<Just another minute, Willow...keep him busy another minute and she'll be gone.>  "I didn't get a good look at his face, but when I came to my senses, this gentleman was there.  Somehow I must have fainted or something since I came to on the ground on top of him.  But, I will never forget that rogue's voice if I live to be a 100!" she exclaimed, placing a shaking hand to her chest.

"You 'eard the lady.  Say something to her...and make it something proper or I will 'ave your arse in jail so fast you'll wish ya were dead!" the officer of the law instructed.  He hastily added, "Beggin' yer pardon miss," for his harsh choice of words.

Willow smiled her understanding to the older man.  Unfortunately, Spike was too incensed to see the humor in the conversation going on around him.  He tried to think clearly for a moment while still twisting to see Drusilla, but the bobby poked him with his nightstick, demanding attention.

He reluctantly turned to Willow and fixed her with an icy stare.  "Lady, you've mistaken me for someone else, because we do *not* know each other...never have, never will."

Willow's forehead crinkled momentarily at the bitterness to his voice, but she pushed on with the charade anyway.

The bobby tapped his foot impatiently.  "So, madam, is this the man?  Should I take 'im in?"

Willow shook her head.  "I am afraid that I am still not sure.  Could you make him say..." Willow trailed off, lowering her head and acting as demur and proper as she could.  "I'm sorry, but I couldn't possibly say it aloud..."

The kindly bobby nodded in sympathy and leaned forward.  "Just whisper it to me then, young Miss.  It will be all right.  I 'ave 'eard it all, believe me."

Willow smiled shyly and whispered in his ear.  The bobby's eyes opened in surprise, and he leaned back to take a closer look at the two young-looking people.

"Are you sure that's what 'e said?"

She nodded her head fervently.  "That is what the man said, but I will not know if it was this man until I hear him say the words."

The officer leaned forward and whispered in Spike's ear, ignoring the interested crowds attempt to also hear his quiet words.

Spike shook his head, the grim look on his face only increasing.  He met Willow's twinkling eyes with cold ones of his own, making sure she knew that he did not find this amusing.  He said the words carefully, wanting this over with so he could find his Dark Goddess again.  <She couldn't have gotten far...>

"I...want...you...to...bite...my...ears...."

The ageless redhead had to hide her face in her hands to keep from giggling, even though it was very apparent that Spike wasn't enjoying himself in the slightest.  She made a show of fanning herself momentarily before gathering her wits and facing the officer of the law.

"No, that is not him.  The man who spoke with me had a very strong brogue.  No, I'm sorry, but this isn't him."  She smiled sweetly at the annoyed vampire and the amused bobby.  "I am sorry to have wasted your time.  I am sure the man who accosted me has long since disappeared."

The moment the man let go of his collar, Spike spun around and pushed his way through the crowd.  He hadn't even bothered to acknowledge her fake apology.

"I guess he had somewhere to go," she told the officer and the dispersing crowd in her most sincere and innocent manner.  "I certainly hope I did not make him late for an important meeting."

***

Willow waited in the parlor for Spike's return.  To keep her mind off of the vampire's earlier behavior, she spent the first few hours at the piano but easily became frustrated at her limited abilities and picked up her guitar instead.  She didn't play a ballad or sing a song of eternal love, instead choosing to stick to the more haunting melodies of some of the other folk songs she'd learned.  Their intricate rhythms and vacillating chords required all of her concentration, allowing the remaining hours until sunrise to pass unnoticed.  The ageless beauty was so absorbed in her music that she didn't notice when her housemate returned.

Spike watched her from the archway that lead from the hallway into the parlor.  Her hair was falling out from the high Victorian bun as her fingers danced across the strings.  He was still amazed at just how adept Willow was at the guitar, and her face revealed how much she loved it.  As he watched, Spike's anger, which was already considerable, escalated.

"You shouldn't have waited up."

The redhead started, her fingers catching momentarily in the strings, leaving a sour chord hanging in the air.  She looked up to see the blonde vampire lurking in the doorway.  She could tell immediately by his tight face and aloof stance that he was still very angry.

"I...I thought you might want to talk about what happened, and I couldn't sleep.  I was...worried...about you," she admitted a little haltingly as she rose to her feet and set the guitar behind her.

Spike remained still, watching her actions with feral eyes.  "I said," he repeated sharply, "you shouldn't have bloody waited, Willow."  He took a few deliberate steps into the room and cocked his head to the side.  "But then again, you were never very bright, really, were you?"

Willow held her ground, sensing that she had underestimated just how irate the vampire would be with her.  "Spike, stop it!  I know you're angry but you also must know I was right.  You'll thank me for this one day."

"You interfered for the last time, Willow!" he warned her.  "You cocked up the spell, tried to save Angelus, and now this.  I bet you thought you had me wrapped around your little finger, didn't you, Pet?"

She shook her head almost frantically.  "Spike...it's not like that.  You know it isn't like that!"

"All I know is you've tried to ruin my life for the last time, *my wife.*  It's time you learned your place in our relationship"

"Stop it, Spike.  You're starting to scare me," she admitted.

The peroxide vampire tightened his jaw again, allowing only the slightest hint of a sinister smirk.  "That's that point, Pet.  And you should be bloody scared, shaking in your chastity belt if you had any sense in that brainbox of yours.  You see, I had a little breakthrough of sorts today..."

<Oh no, this cannot be good...>  "You had an epiphany?"  When Willow became nervous, she found herself talking as if she were actually 17 years old again.  "One of those times when you suddenly realize you want to devote the rest of your life to saving the rainforest or ridding the world of potentially dangerous back-in-time spells...maybe?" she asked hopefully.

"I wouldn't count on it, Pet, and don't think your childish babble is going to save you this time.  You see, I think you've forgotten what I am...maybe we both had.  So, I think we need to have ourselves a quick review."

As Spike neared, Willow took a step behind an armchair.  She knew it wouldn't offer her any protection from Spike if he really had lost his mind, but at least it gave her something to hold on to.  And hold on to it she did...with a death grip.

"I don't want to play a game.  I--"

"What am I?" he asked directly, cutting her off in mid-sentence.

"This isn't funny, Spike.  I'm going to bed," she announced boldly.  Turning on her heals, fully intending to storm out of the room, Willow was yanked to a stop by a cold, vise-like grip on her upper arm.

"I'm not playing anymore, my little virgin.  Answer the question.  What am I?" he demanded, pulling her to him.

"You're a vampire," she hissed reluctantly.

"And what do vampires do?"

Willow stared at him in disbelief for a moment, then took a deep breath.  "Ruin peoples lives," she said willfully.

The blonde demon allowed a hint of a smile.  "That's just an added bonus, actually...the cream on the scone.  Now, put that mind of yours to use once more and tell me what vampires eat?"

Willow's eyes narrowed.  She didn't care how upsetting seeing Drusilla was; the redhead was not going to be treated like a child.

She easily wrenched her arm out of his hold.  "Don't talk to me like I'm an idiot," she huffed and stepped away.

Her insolence only added to Spike's anger, and before Willow could take a full step, she found herself being pushed against the wall.  Spike's nails dug into her shoulders as he held her in place.  His control was paper thin at the moment.  All he could think about was how the human before him had betrayed him and kept him from the woman he loved.

"Don't do this, Spike," Willow pleaded, hardly able to look him in the eye and barely recognizing what she saw in there.  The anger was obvious.  She had expected him to be angry, but there was more than just vexation in those eyes, more than annoyance.  There was hate.  For the first time, Willow really saw hatred and loathing in those steely orbs, and it was all directed at her.  It was at that moment that she found the fear of him that she'd lost in Ireland.  It resurfaced in her with a vengeance, made more buoyant by the realization that now he had something to prove to himself as well.  Spike's face was still the mask of the human's, but the teasing, boyish manner was gone.  He was all demon, whether the fangs were out at the moment or not, and his evil face was lowering toward hers.

"Haven't you been paying attention at all, Pet?  It looks like someone will be staying after class today with teacher since you seemed to miss the point.  This *is* what we do."

Willow tried to reason with him as she continued to struggle, but all of her self-defense lessons were proving pointless.  She could scarcely think straight let alone formulate a plan to overpower the much stronger vampire.

"I--I understand you're upset about seeing Drusilla today, and maybe you feel like you betrayed her or were unfaithful to her by being with me, but--"

Spike used his grip on her shoulders to pull her forward quickly and slam her back against the wall, hard enough to steal her breath.  "Don't even mention her name again, do you understand?" he commanded spitefully.  "What you and I have been doing to pass the boredom is nothing like what Drusilla and I had and will have again!  You're nothing but a warm body and a quick meal to me."

Tears sprang to her eyes at his words.  The pain and stress of the situation were slowly breaking down the barriers that she had long thought unnecessary.

"No, Spike, don't do this!  If you regret what's happened and want it to stop, then fine...just leave or tell me to stay out of your bed, but don't...don't do this.  You can't take this back--I won't forgive you this time if you hurt me!"  It took a monumental effort not to look away as she spoke the words that only seemed to enrage him more.  By the time she was done, his demonic visage was completely unmasked.

He chuckled low in his throat, and it occurred to Willow that it was probably the most frightening thing she'd ever heard.  It was the laugh of the demon.  There was no Spike or William in it.

"But you'll forgive him, won't you?" he demanded as he shifted his hands.  One now held her firmly by the throat as the other traced her neck and collarbone, trailing down between her breasts.  "You've already forgiven Angelus, *Angel*, for everything he's done to you, haven't you?  Even this!" he sneered, scratching a sharp nail over the barely visible mark that Angelus had left at their last meeting.

Willow couldn't speak as his hold on her throat tightened, and try as she might, she couldn't break his grip.  All she could do was mouth the word 'please,' and shut her eyes against all of the physical and emotional pain that the man she'd shared a bed with for the past few weeks was now inflicting upon her.

Spike's grip loosened only enough to ensure that she remained conscious.  He moved in closer, his hand sliding to the back of her head and forcing her to expose the other side of the throat.  His mouth stopped at her ear first, biting it for a moment to make sure he had her full attention.

"That's all right, my little virgin.  I don't want to take this back.  In fact, with every drop of your blood that I drain, it'll be like taking back every second I was pretending to be something I wasn't.  Basically, every bloody second I spent with you."

When he finally bit in to her supple skin, it was a controlled feeding.  All of his anger and frustration had come to a head and had imploded in on itself until it was just a pinpoint of burning hot rage.  He wasn't blinded by his fury.  Instead it made everything clearer and allowed him the sense to not rip her throat apart.  He wanted to hurt Willow, he wanted to destroy her emotionally, he wanted to teach the redhead her place, but he couldn't have the girl recuperating for days from the wounds either.  It wasn't a particularly deep bite, but it was a painful one.  He took only enough to satisfy his immediate craving for her blood and to make his point.

Willow bit her lip to keep from crying out as she felt him savagely bite into her in a way that he'd never had before.  It wasn't sensual this time.  It was obvious even to her that it was not only meant to hurt her, but more importantly to crush her spirit.  It did.  When it was over, Willow felt him pull away as she slowly slumped to the floor.  Finding the strength to open her eyes, she watched as the sneering demon backed away from her..

"Get out..."  Her voice, rough and gravel-like from the bruises he'd put on her throat, came out as barely a whisper.

"What was that, Pet?" he snickered, his voice colder than his mouth had been when it stole her life's blood.

Using the wall behind her as leverage, she rose shakily to her feet.  "Get out of my house!  Now!" she demanded more loudly, her face reddening in anger more than he thought possible considering the amount of blood he'd taken.  "And if you *ever* touch me again, I won't hesitate before plunging a stake into your hollow chest!" she added, her anger growing as he mocked her.

Spike grabbed a cigarette from a side table and lit a match with a quick flick of his fingernail.

"Sorry, love.  It's a tad too sunny for me to leave right now, so I think I'll just get a few hours of sleep up in our little love nest.  So, since you wanted me to tell you this before, stay the hell out of my bed from now on, got it?"  With a self-satisfied smirk, Spike turned to leave the shaken woman alone with her injury.

Willow's eyes narrowed in anger as they flitted between the departing vampire and the diffused sunshine coming in through the stained-glass door in the hallway.  For a moment she considered trying to rush past him just to throw the door open.  She was sure that a little sun exposure would wipe the smirk from his face.  But the desire for revenge was short lived, overshadowed by the familiar desire to flee.  Instead, Willow started sidling for the door, but unfortunately, Spike stopped his retreat, turned around and closed in on her.

"Oh, and as for never bloody touching you again..."  Spike grabbed her by the back of the head as she tried to sneak past, and yanked her mouth to his.  He delivered a punishing kiss that was cruel in both its manner and its intensity.  Even though she kept them tightly screwed shut, the vampire left her lips bruised and battered.  "You're mine, Willow," he reminded her before shoving her away from him.  "I marked you, and therefore I own you, just like a pet. As such, I can do with you what I please, when and I how I want to.  Now be good or I'll have to get you a collar."

The look on Spike's face was deadly serious, and Willow knew she had no choice but to run.  The moment Spike turned to head for the stairs, Willow bolted out the door, not even bothering to shut it.

Once again Willow found herself running down the early morning streets, tears streaming down her face.  Having nowhere to go, she eventually stopped, exhausted, in the recessed doorway of an accounting firm and sank to the cold ground.  <How could I have been so stupid to think that he'd changed or that he really cared about me in anyway!>

Willow allowed only a short time to cry and feel sorry for herself but soon pulled herself together.  She would have years, decades in fact if her plan succeeded, to tear herself down over her most recent failures and mistakes, but for now she had to get out.

She waited several hours, hoping that Spike would fall asleep.  She needed to get her things during the daylight hours so she'd be able to get away from him.  If he caught her trying to leave at night, her escape would be much more difficult.  She also spent the time taking care of the small matter of Mrs. Andrews.  The last thing Willow wanted was for Ms. Andrews to show up later that week and end up bearing the brunt of Spike's anger.

It was shortly after noon when Willow tiptoed back into her own house, heading straight up the stairs.  As she made her way to her own room, she noted with relief that Spike's door was closed.  Quietly as possible, she stuffed a few things into a case, making sure not to forget her journals.  If she weren't so angry and scared, Willow might have enjoyed the irony of the situation.  How many years ago was it that she did this same exact thing--packing her bags quickly and quietly in hopes of escaping the blonde demon that had betrayed her?  It was different this time though, and she knew it.  The last betrayal hurt her, but this one would kill her, if she let it.  But she was determined not to let it.

With one last glance around, Willow headed down the staircase.  She had one more thing to find and then she would be rid of this place and the monster upstairs.  Unfortunately, when she darted into the parlor, it was gone.

"Looking for something, Pet?" a sinister voice echoed through the house.

She ran back into the hallway to find Spike at the top of the stairs, leaning casually on the banister.  In his hands he held her guitar.

Willow's heart leapt as he strummed an eerie chord on her favorite possession.

"Very nice workmanship.  I can see why it means so much to you and how difficult it would be for you to leave it behind."  The vampire played another chord without looking at the strings.  He was challenging her to come and get it.

Willow remained rooted to her place.  "Spike, it's mine.  Give it to me, and I promise you won't see me again until it's time to end this torture."

The vampire clenched his jaw and strummed another minor chord.  "*You* are mine.  So what is yours is mine.  Understand?"

Willow shook her head and ascended the first few steps.  "No, Spike.  I don't acknowledge that.  You bit me, and that's all.  You don't own me anymore than some other parasite that took my blood!"

Spike clucked in amusement.  "One day, Pet, you'll understand, but for now there is nothing you can do about it.  You're mine, always will be."

Willow gritted her teeth in an attempt not to rise to his bait.  She just wanted her guitar and then to get as far away from the blonde demon as possible.

"Give me the guitar Spike or else--"

"Or else what?" he laughed.  "You'll curse me with my soul?"  Spike shook his head.  "Ah, you thought I didn't know your silly little secret?  That you spent years with the Rom in hopes of learning the spell so you could restore Angelus's soul?"

Willow blanched visibly but she took another step closer.  Her eyes remained glued on the guitar.

"I knew you would figure it out.  I gave you plenty of hints between the guitar and my other new talents.  So, to answer your question, 'yes', unless you would like your soul back, you'll hand me that guitar right now!" she said firmly, hoping her nervousness wasn't as apparent as she feared.

"Can't do it, Red.  If you knew how to restore souls, you would have done it ages ago.  You don't know, do you?  The Rom aren't a very trusting lot, are they?  They don't like outsiders much, let alone share their magik.  Bad bluff, Willow.  I thought I taught you better than that."

"Spike, please..." she begged with tears in her eyes.

Spike chuckled darkly.  "You lose, Pet."  With his final word, Spike threw the guitar over the balcony with all of his strength.

Willow watched in horror as her beloved instrument hit the wooden floor below and splintered into dozens of pieces before her eyes, its last sound echoing through the house.  She skittered down the steps, thinking of trying to gather the pieces in hopes that some artist may be able to reconstruct it for her, but Spike's voice reminded her that she was still in danger.

"That was fun!"  Spike said jovially and began descending the steps.

Willow quickly started to back toward the door, her eyes darting between the ruins of her guitar and the gloating vampire.

"You'll regret that, Spike!"

"Ah, cheer up, Pet," he told her, sarcasm lacing his every word.  "It's just a few more years now and then we can go home."

Willow let a smile of her own creep into her face.  Apparently, he hadn't figured it all out after all.  He won the hand, but she still had a plan to win the game.

"You'll have to find me first, Spike."  She waited a beat, just long enough to watch his superior smile fade a bit and an uncertain look flash in his eyes before she turned and ran into the morning sun.
 

~Chapter Thirty~

1860

It had been a long train ride and Willow was getting antsy.  While it was exciting riding in the fairly new steam train, the novelty quickly wore off as the hours ticked by.  It was better than stagecoach by far, but she simply wanted to get to her destination and sit down at the card table.

Willow had few things that made her happy anymore, or at least allowed her to forget her problems.  She had her music--Spike's destruction of her first guitar couldn't quell her love for the instrument--she had her time with The Rom, and she had poker.  In just a few hours, she would be happily sitting in a smoke-filled room across from perfect strangers, hopefully relieving them of some of their cash.

That was pretty much Willow's life now.  Poker was how she made her money, and it kept her in a very good lifestyle.  When she'd had to once again flee from Spike, Willow had headed back to the continent without thinking.  She needed a place where she could relax and feel safe while she decided what to do.  Fortunately, she only had to spend a few months with the Rom before she felt emotionally strong enough to return to England.

Actually, Willow had traveled to Edinburgh, Scotland, when she'd first come back and stayed there for several months.  She'd chosen it for several reasons, not the least of which being that she'd always wanted to explore the historical northern city.  The fact that Spike had once told her that he and Angelus had never gone there was just an added bonus.

Edinburgh was where Willow first found her way into the more private world of poker.  She no longer had to play in smoky rooms in the back of seedy taverns because now she was invited to fine houses, manors, and even the occasional castle.  These games were by invitation only and therefore Willow could ensure that she would never find herself accidentally sitting at a table across from Spike.  It wasn't his scene anyway; he preferred the seedier side of poker.  Besides if he were looking for her, he would no doubt head for the Rom first, which was another reason why she'd had to leave them to return to the British Isles.

After a while, Willow had grown tired of the cold, wet weather, even by British standards, and left Scotland.  Making her way south, she moved to a cozy cottage in a small village outside Bath, which by now had become the playground of the more fashionable members of English society.  Since Bath was considered the liveliest spot for gambling in all of England, it just seemed natural for Willow to live nearby.  She would occasionally venture into the decadent town from her peaceful, nearby village to find a game.  It was a rare occurrence though, because she never had a shortage of invitations to place elsewhere.  As a result, she traveled quite a bit, often from one game to the next, and was rarely at her own home.

The game she was heading to now was some six hours away by train.  It was being held away from the city by a well-off gentleman she 'd played with and beaten before, so she was looking forward to it.  It was an all-weekend affair since it was at his country estate, and it was going to be a nice change of pace for Willow.  <For Violet Jones!> she reminded herself.  Soon after leaving the Romany, Willow had adopted a new pseudonym, just to be on the safe side.  Violet Jones was the first one that had come to her, and it made her giggle...Rose Smith, AKA Violet Jones.  She liked it and had been using it ever since.

Violet Jones was a widow, a very well to-do young widow, who was slowly gaining a reputation amongst the upper echelons of the gambling community.  She was respected by most, feared by some, and even desired by a few others, but she always tried her best to stay out of the limelight in order to remain hidden from Spike.  She was far from ready to return to her own time in Sunnydale, and he was going to have to wait until she let herself be found.  Willow was calling the shots now.

***

They had been playing all day, and Willow was doing well.  The other players were good, but she was a little disappointed that few of them offered little more than a slight challenge.  As usual, those she'd not played with before underestimated her at first, and in the end the gentlemen paid dearly for it.  It wasn't that she was the only good female poker player in Britain, but they were few and far between.  It was a man's game...a gentleman's game, although more often than not one was more likely to be seated across from a crook than a gentleman.  It was time's like those--when she found herself seated at a table with a dishonest player--that she was actually thankful for all of the little tricks that Spike had taught her.  Although she never cheated to actually win anymore, she wasn't against cheating to make things fair.  Every time Willow saw another player palm an ace, use a marked card, or deal off the bottom of the deck, she used her own considerable talents at deception to even the playing field.  It was not the way she preferred to win, however.

That was one of the reasons she liked these private games, even if her opponents weren't much of a threat.  Games like this one were usually sponsored by wealthy men with too much time on their hands that liked to associate with great players, even though they were rarely more than adequate players themselves.  'If you can't be the best, then at least surround yourself with the best,' seemed to be their motto.  It was rare to find a cheater at these more exclusive kinds of events because if they were ever caught, the news would quickly spread and they'd find themselves lacking in people to play with, at least in the same social circle.

Already after a day's worth of play, several players had dropped out due to lack of funds.  The five original tables were now pared down to three.  The plan was to play until there was one clear winner, until everyone had called it quits, or until they ran out of time and had to leave the tranquil estate the following evening.  But for now, it was almost dinnertime, and Willow was relieved to be able to push away from the table and get some fresh air.  She would have only the hour or so before dinner to herself because the game would resume even before the servants could clear away the dessert plates.

Willow climbed the enormous staircase and made several twists and turns, hoping that she remembered the correct way to her room.  She seemed to have this wing of the enormous Tudor manor to herself--one of the advantages of being the only woman, she supposed.  At times like these though, she welcomed the solitude.  Eventually finding her way, Willow unlocked the door and entered her chambers.  It was a beautiful room, perhaps the most opulent she'd ever had the pleasure to stay in, but she had spent little time in it so far.  Only short breaks were taken to freshen up and eat.  They were here to play cards, not for a holiday.  In spite of that, Willow threw open the glass doors and stepped out on to her private balcony...her favorite part of the room.  As she stared out onto the lush, green English countryside, she thought she would love to come back to the area again someday.  The rolling hills were so peaceful and serene.

"Perhaps I should buy a small place out here myself.  It's not like I can stay in London much for the next thirty years since Drusilla should be turned any time now and Spike will be ready to leave," she reminded herself reluctantly.  Willow took a seat and closed her eyes, letting the song of the evening crickets relax her mind, body, and soul.  There was a lot of card playing left to be done, and while she may not be the big winner, she refused to leave the table with less than she'd come in with.

Spike.  The name brought up so many images and thoughts, so many mixed feelings.  She hadn't seen or heard from him since 'the incident' almost five years ago.  Willow had long ago realized what a shock it must have been for Spike to see his future lover that night when she wasn't even supposed to have been in London for another few years.  All Willow could figure was that Drusilla and her family must have been visiting relatives in the area.  Considering the odd turn of events, Willow grudgingly understood his reaction.  She had interfered, after all.  Maybe she hadn't handled it the best way, but her intentions had been good.  Willow had only been thinking about his future happiness with Drusilla when she'd kept him from following the young girl.  In her opinion, his violent reaction was uncalled for.  He'd betrayed her, yet again, and savagely bit her.  More important than any physical pain that he'd inflicted upon her though, was how insignificant, used, and incredibly stupid he'd made her feel.  If it weren't for the fact that sooner or later they would have to meet up in order to go home, Willow told herself she could quite happily never see his pale face again.

Unfortunately, no matter how much his words had hurt, some of what he'd said was true.  Willow had almost overlooked what he was for a while.  It wasn't that she'd forgotten that Spike was a vampire.  How could she when his feeding from her was such an integral part of their lovemaking?  What she had managed to overlook however were some of the darker sides of his demonic nature that he'd obviously been suppressing--the mercurial mood swings, the instinct to act, often violently, on his passions rather than to think things through, and perhaps even a need for ultimate control.  She knew she shouldn't consider them personality flaws so much as side effects of being a vampire, but it was still difficult for her forgive him.  Since then, Willow had even wondered what would have happened if she'd stayed instead of running away after he'd attacked her.  Now, she'd never know if Spike would have apologized after he'd had a chance to cool down.  Nevertheless, while her new understanding did help to quench her anger some, it did nothing to lessen the pain.  Nothing would ever be the same again.  The trust had been broken.

He'd been correct about the Rom as well.  They didn't share their secrets or their way of life easily.  It had taken her nearly a year just to be invited to sit around their fire.  Add to that the language barriers and the Rom's natural mistrust of all Gaje, or non-gypsies, and it meant that Willow hadn't even come close to learning the restoration spell during the few years she'd spent with them.  Fortunately, Willow was in no hurry.  She was content just to have finally been accepted into the tightly-knit group, given a Rom name, the chance to learn their unique language, and perhaps best of all, the gift of music.  The rest could wait.  It would have to wait, in fact, since Willow had no intention of returning to 1998 until after she was sure that Angelus was once again cursed with his soul in 1898.  She just had to hope that Spike would keep his promise not to harm the Irish vampire, just as Willow fully intended to keep her pledge to help the him get the love of his unlife, in spite of what had happened between them.  In her heart, she was sure that Spike would hold up his end of the bargain, too.  After all, her strategy was the most logical and guaranteed the best chance of Spike ending up with the Drusilla he'd fallen in love.  Of course, Willow never had the opportunity to fully explain her plan to him before she'd fled, and as a result, Spike had no idea that they weren't going to go home within days of Drusilla becoming a vampire.  <He'll start looking for me again soon...>

<Quit thinking about him, Willow!> she berated herself.  <You need to focus on the game.>  Willow closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths, letting her mind picture a beautiful waterfall that she'd discovered one day while taking a walk when she was with the Rom.  She'd spent a wonderful day in solitude there, swimming, reading, and dozing to the sounds of the cascading water.  Ever since that glorious day, she'd used it has her 'happy place'.  Whenever she needed to increase her concentration or clear her mind, that was were her thoughts would go.  After a few minutes of this, Willow felt refreshed and quickly got ready for dinner.

***

After dinner, Willow couldn't resist one last look at the stars from her private balcony before she returned to the gaming room.  As she took her seat at the table, the petite gambler was pleased to note that she wasn't the last one in.  The gentleman who had sat across from her was nowhere to be seen.  Willow wondered if the stress had been too much for him.  Now that she thought about it, she hadn't seen the rather nervous younger man at the dinner table either.

She and the remaining two gentlemen used their time waiting to verify their moneys, and then she made polite small talk with the older gentleman on her right--weather, the state of the colonies, the health of Queen Victoria, the usual chit chat.  Finally, their host, Mr. Simms, who also happened to be one of the first players to bow out, interrupted.

"Mr. Richards will no longer be playing," the robust, red-cheeked man informed them.  "He was sitting in for his employer who was delayed on business, but the gentleman is here now and wishes to take his rightful place at the table.  I hope that is satisfactory?"

It wasn't the norm, but as it was a gentleman's game and the host's request, they all agreed.

"Jolly good show," the host remarked, obviously relieved.  "Then, may I introduce Angelus Connellan."

Willow's heart stopped.  She was certain of it.  The polite smile she was wearing faded, quickly replaced by a look of complete and utter horrified shock.  <No!  It can't be!  Please let it be anyone else...please!> she screamed internally.  Once again Willow found herself praying in vain that it wouldn't be 'her' Angelus, even though she somehow knew it was.  The redhead had decided long ago that it was inevitable that they would meet again before she was able to return home, but she'd refused to think about it too much, let alone plan for such a reunion.  Denial.  That was the only word for the way she'd been living for years now, and fate had just delivered one hell of a wake up call, threatening to push her into a state of panic.

Willows eyes dropped to her hands as a figure stepped into view on her left and introductions were started.  Suddenly wishing she had started smoking so she had some way to release her anxiety, she instead started shuffling the cards.  Unfortunately, her hands were trembling and the cards suddenly seemed as slippery as soap.

"Mr. Connellan," Willow heard the host begin, but his voice seemed miles away, muffled by the sound of her own hammering heart.  "May I introduce Lord Kennsington."

"It's an honor ta be in the company of such a distinguished servant of Her Majesty, me Lord," a deep voice replied in a familiar Irish lilt.

At that moment, Willow dropped the few remaining cards she had been shuffling, unmindful of the fact that most had already slipped from her fingers to pile haphazardly before her.  She could feel several sets of eyes upon her but only one pair mattered.  The deep sable eyes that she still saw in her dreams were piercing her with a sharpness that hardly seemed possible.

Luckily, the host went on, skipping to the player on her left.  "And may I introduce Alistair Fontaine.  He owns several banks in London, as well as Birmingham and Manchester, so do not be surprised if he is actually playing with your money!" the host joked.

Willow couldn't force herself to even smile, let alone laugh, at the joke she'd already heard a dozen times that day, but she could hear the others respond as expected, including Angelus.  All she could think was, <There goes my plan...>

"Well, Mr. Fontaine, I can only hope that you won't hold it against me if ya have to make a sizable transfer from yer account to mine," the vampire returned good-naturedly.

Willow was in a daze, knowing that she was going to have to lift her eyes from the table to look at the soulless man she'd once loved.  Polite conversation was still going on around her, but as a pause came, she affixed what she hoped was an indifferent look on her face and took a deep breath.

"And finally, I have the pleasure to introduce you to Mrs. Violet Jones.  If she does not take all of your money, she will surely steal your heart."

"Her beauty has already halted its beating.  Mrs. *Jones*, is it?" the velvety voice purred, daring her to look at its source.

Willow's ageless emerald eyes rose slowly from the careless pile of cards in front of her and first came across his offered hand.  Before she could stop herself, she placed her own hand in his, as propriety expected.  Her gaze remained intent on the clasped fingers, but it turned out that she would have to look no further to see the face of the man--the demon--who stood next to her.  He lowered his devilishly smiling face to her proffered hand and brushed his cold lips lightly across her bare skin.  Her eyes remained glued to that spot where his mouth met her flesh, never rising to meet his.  As the color seeped from her face, the redhead gripped the table sharply with her other hand to stop from swaying while she awaited his reaction.

"It's a pleasure, Mrs. Jones," he said in a sickeningly sweet tone, releasing Willow's hand as he took the available seat across from hers.

Willow could only offer a slight nod in response as she tried to reign in her stampeding emotions.  Conversation resumed as the others filled Angelus in on the type of poker they'd been playing, but it all flew by the redhead unheard.  Cards were shuffled, cigars were lit, hands were dealt, and still Willow hadn't uttered a sound, nor had she even ventured a glance away from the safety of the felt-covered table and her cards.  Three hands were played before Willow could speak.  In those three hands, she'd lost a considerable amount of money, making mistakes that any novice could avoid.  It wasn't until she heard the 'clucking' sound from across the table that she snapped out of it.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk..." Angelus taunted.  "I'd heard so much about the fiery redhead with the face of an angel who was a demon at the poker table, that I must be admittin' that I'm a wee bit disappointed, Mrs. Jones."

Willow's head popped up as she finally realized she was ruining her reputation as an expert gambler.  Try as she might though, she couldn't look at him.  Instead, her gaze traveled around the table, settling upon each of the other gentleman and even the deck that Angelus was shuffling, anything but his face.

"My apologies, Mr. Connelly," she replied, purposely erring on his name.  It wasn't very ladylike but either was poker.  "I'm afraid that the Beef Wellington was a tad too heavy for me and has put me a bit off my game.  If you would be so kind as to grant me a few minutes to quell my delicate stomach, then I can promise you my best game."

Without waiting for a reply or for the gentlemen to stand, she rose quickly and headed for the nearest door.  Unfortunately, it was subtly blocked by two large men--men whom she could tell were vampires.

"Great, he brought the whole happy vamp family with him tonight," she mumbled and quickly changed direction toward the doors to the garden.  She knew escape was useless, but damned if she were going to sit across from him and smile as he won all her money.  She may not make it through the night unscathed physically, but she was determined that Angelus wouldn't make it through the night unscathed financially.

She pushed aside the heavy royal-blue drapes and threw open the doors to the large moon-flooded courtyard.  Instantly, several vampires appeared from behind various garden statues and ornamental bushes that were shaped to resemble various animals.  Since the demons made no move to advance on her, it was apparent that they were there only to make sure that she didn't try to escape.  With a heavy heart, Willow walked to the intricately carved stone railing that divided the courtyard from the gardens.  <Calm down, Willow.  Breathe...maybe he doesn't even recognize you!>

Angelus closed the double doors after himself and with a dismissive jerk of his head to the other vampires, he ensured their privacy.  As she did decades before on the cliff in Galway, Willow felt, rather than heard, Angelus step out into the night behind her.  The air was once again filled with electricity, running up and down her spine like a thousand tiny needles.  Having forced himself to stay back and remain silent for a moment, Angelus was rewarded for his patience with the shudder that rippled through Willow's small frame.

"You aren't tryin' ta leave in the middle of the game, are ya, me love?" he finally asked.  "That wouldn't be very ladylike."

Willow was almost relieved to hear him speak, finding the silence more frightening than his menacing manner.  "As if I could leave.  You have the whole estate surrounded by your spawn, don't you?" she responded bravely as she continued to look out onto the star-lit expanse of lawn.

"Ya can't be blamin' me fer wantin' ta be prepared," Angelus chuckled, allowing himself to draw nearer to his goal.  "Not when there's so much ta be lost or won this weekend."  The vampire stopped behind the redhead, barely resisting the desire to grab her and drag her away that very moment.  However, he had plans that would require even more self-control over the next couple of days.

Even with her eyes closed, Willow sensed him behind her, standing so close she could feel the slightest brush of his lips across the tiny hairs on her lobe.  Opening her lids, she wrapped her arms around herself and took a step away. She knew it wouldn't make any difference in the end because he would just encroach on her again, but her mind was screaming at her to run.  She didn't know if she could go through this again, seeing him, listening to his silken voice as he tried to weave a destructive path through her sanity.  <God help me...>  It was hard enough the last short time they were together.  Decades may have passed since then, but she knew it would be even more difficult this time around.  Her weeks with Spike had made things more complicated because now she knew exactly what she'd been missing...how a man could make her feel...even what a soulless vampire could make her feel. <But look how that ended!  Besides, he's not Spike!  No...he's Angelus...>

"Did ya miss me, my flower?" Angelus asked, interrupting her thoughts.  "It's been a long time, too long since ya escaped me all those years ago."  When Willow didn't answer, he continued in a voice filled with longing.  "I missed ya, Rose.  I know ya don't believe me, but I did.  All the years we lost...years ya could have been mine."

Willow shook her head.  She did not want to hear his words--words that, coming from anyone else or even from Angelus a century earlier while he was still alive, would have been romantic.  Coming from the demon who hovered behind her, they only spoke of unfulfilled pain and torment.
Her stubbornness pleased Angelus and brought an anticipatory smile to his face.  Her behavior would only make it that more delicious when he broke her.

"Turn around," Angelus instructed firmly.  Although his words were obviously meant as more than a request, the sensually compelling tone of his voice frightened her much more than any tersely barked order ever could.

Instead of attempting to fight him when she was obviously on his territory, Willow decided she would try to appear as unaffected and unafraid as possible.  She turned slowly, allowing her eyes to find his for the first time.

"Angelus..." was all she managed to say as the words of her hastily prepared speech died on her lips at the sight of him.

She was right.  After all this time, it hadn't gotten any easier.  In all honesty, it was worse.  With the passing years, he'd become even more handsome than she remembered.  Gone was the long, loose hair and mustache that she'd mocked at their last meeting.  His dark hair, while still longer than the soulful Angel would wear it, was short enough that it actually accentuated his face without hiding it, giving him a bit of boyish charm.  It was only the cruel twist to his lips that didn't remind her of the man with the angelic face that she'd known in Galway.

"I see ya have learned at least one lesson from our past meetin's, Rose," Angelus sneered, pleased with both her obedience and her discernable reaction to seeing him again.  "If ya fight me, ya will only get hurt worse."

Willow held her ground even though she was only one step away from the demon.  She straightened her shoulders, willing her arms to slide down to her sides, but the move left her feeling cold and unprotected without their warmth to reassure her.

Still, even though she didn't feel the slightest bit courageous, she spoke bravely.  "I thought that was the whole point, Angelus...to hurt me...make me scream..."

Angelus bridged the small physical gap between them as his hand snaked out to catch a fallen tendril of coppery hair, only to twist it around a long, cold finger.

"Ah, patience, me love.  It seems we truly do have an eternity for lessons...and pain..."  As he wound her tresses around his digit, she was slowly pulled closer to him until her face was only inches from his.  "...and pleasure..." he continued in a husky growl, moving his mouth down to barely graze her jaw line.  "But only tonight ta be takin' these fools fer all they have," he murmured in her ear, then gradually pulled away to gauge her reaction.

Willow shook her head slowly, not fully believing his audacity.  "You mean you expect me to sit across that table from you and play cards, knowing that when it's over you plan to...to...hurt me?"

"I always knew ya were a smart wee thing," the vampire said with the barest hint of a smile.  He kept her entrapped by her own hair while the back of his free hand brushed her cheek.  "So, it appears as if it will be ta yer advantage to play well.  I don't suppose ya'd be interested in a small side wager, now would ya?  Just ta make it a bit more excitin'?"

<I don't think I can take any more excitement in this lifetime!> she thought over the sound of her blood pounding in her ears.  "No!  I...wouldn't," the redhead ground out through clenched teeth as she started painstakingly unwrapping her hair from his hand.

Angelus made no move to stop her, enjoying the look of determination on her face as she tried to disengage herself without having to physically come in contact with him.

"Yer shakin', me love.  I'm flattered that I have such an effect on ya still, after all these years," he chuckled, purposely flexing his fingers in a manner that made it nearly impossible for her to free herself without touching him.

In exasperation, Willow finally grabbed his hand and used both of hers to unwind her hair.  When she was free, she pulled away from the vampire and started for the doors, but he grabbed her by the arm, stopping her escape.

"Give it some thought, me Rose.  Ya'll find I'm a very reasonable man."

"Don't you mean *demon*, Angelus?" was her flippant response.  With a quick snap of her arm, she was easily able to break free from his grip.  While this was not the time to show him some of her newer self-defense moves, which she doubted would do much good against his supernatural strength anyway, Willow was not about to let him handle her like a piece of baggage.  "And the name is Violet," she added sternly.

Angelus chuckled and let her go, only to have his hand drift down to the small of her back, escorting her toward the doors.

Willow stiffened under his touch, trying to escape the eerie sensations that his icy fingers sent throughout her body, but he only increased the pressure as he led her back to their table.  Suddenly she was reliving the night over a century ago when she and Angelus had shared a horse, coming back from the fog-entrenched cliffs.  She'd tried so hard not to relax against him then, but she'd eventually surrendered, leaning back against his broad chest.  They'd almost kissed that night, and on the rare occasions since then that Willow allowed herself to think about her lost moments with the Irishman, she wondered if a kiss could have changed anything...or even everything.

Irritated with herself for her trip down memory lane, Willow squared her jaw and walked quickly back to their table.  Ignoring the stares of the men in the room, she pretended as if nothing had happened between them, even as Angelus gallantly pulled her chair out for her.  When he scooted the seat back beneath her, Willow felt his face in her hair.  She could have sworn she heard a sharp intake of breath, like he were devouring her scent, but it'd happened so quickly that she couldn't be sure.  From the lack of reaction from the others at the table, Willow decided that either no one else had noticed his odd behavior or that she'd simply imagined it.

"Are you well, Mrs. Jones?" Lord Kennsington asked politely, taking in her pale appearance.

Willow forced a bright smile.  "Yes, thank you.  The air did wonders, I do believe, and I thank you all for your patience."

As the two other men told her to think nothing of it, Willow could only hear Angelus's voice.  "A creature as beautiful as yerself is always worth waitin' fer."

If the two other men suspected, and rightly so, that the seemingly young man and woman had an intertwined past, they kept it to themselves.  It was plainly obvious after only a few hands that the couple were not working together in some sort of scheme to bilk the others of their money.  Instead, it was almost as if the other two players weren't even there.  They were still quickly losing their money to either one, but the man and woman played with such an intensity, that it appeared as if much more than money was at stake.

After almost four more hours of intense card playing, the other two men pushed away from the table.  They were exhausted and broke as most of the money they'd brought with them was now heaped before either the dark-haired man or the redheaded woman.  Seeing that only Angelus and herself remained, Willow felt the panic begin to rise within her again.  She was safe while she was at the gaming table.  It was neutral territory, and she could more than hold her own.  It had only been through the use of relaxation techniques and sheer willpower that she'd been able to remain calm up to this point.  She'd still made some silly blunders and had not played her best, but even with her game being off, she was easily a match for the two breathing men at the table.  It was the one that didn't breathe that scared her.

Angelus was a truly brilliant player, ruthless and calculating.  His handsome visage hadn't slipped once.  On the occasions that he actually lost a hand, he still wore the same, enigmatic half-smile.  The only exception was when he was trying to bluff or mislead his fellow players, but even then, the dark vampire never hinted at what he really was.  Willow wasn't fooled though, and now that she could see the end coming, she started grasping at straws.

"Please, Lord Kennsington, Mr. Fontaine, I would be honored if you would allow me to sponsor you for a few more hands.  You're both such delightful company, and I'm sure that you have only been suffering some bad luck this evening--"

"I'm beginnin' ta think the lady is afraid ta be alone with me, gentleman," Angelus interrupted jovially, easily slipping into a charming demeanor.  "But, as it appears that our table is the last one playin' fer the night, perhaps we should retire.  The two of us will finish this tomorrow, Mrs. Jones.  You appear as if ya could use some rest anyway."

"You are too kind, Mr. *Connelly*."

Without waiting for anyone to pull the chair out for her, Willow jumped up, gathered her money, and took it to the designated banker to count and keep safe until the next day's play.  After signing for her winnings, she bid the remaining gentleman a hasty goodnight and scurried out of the game room and up the stairs to the relative safety of her own quarters.  Closing and then locking the door, she sighed in relief.

Willow paced the floors of her room for over an hour after ensuring that the doors to both the hallway and the balcony were secure.  She had even gone so far as to push a chair in front of the French doors that led outside, just in case.  The redhead had no misconceptions that it would keep him out if he wanted in, but at least she would hear him coming.  The heavy, solid-oak door that led to the hallway was locked tight from the inside, and she felt better knowing that the only way he would be coming through that door was with a battering ram...a very noisy, attention-attracting battering ram.

"How could I be so stupid?" she demanded of herself as she continued pacing.  "Traveling all the way out here...nowhere to go...nowhere to hide..."

Willow knew she was being hard on herself.  She'd made every effort to ensure her safety before she agreed to this particular poker weekend, just as she had many times before.  She knew the host quite well, having played with him on several previous occasions, and she'd even gone so far as to inquire as to the other players.  She'd thought she was safe and that she'd thought of everything, but she was wrong.  This error was going to be a very costly one, and Willow knew it.

As Willow continued to wear a path in the imported Persian rug, she finally took the time to wonder how this had all come about.  Angelus was certainly not surprised to find her at the table, and considering the reinforcements he'd brought with him, as well as the apparent accomplice that had sat in at her table for the first day, it was obvious that it had been planned and planned well.  He had gone to a lot of trouble to either get her here or to make sure that she didn't escape him, or both.

Angelus.  If the mere idea of Spike confused her, the thought of Angelus was enough to throw her into sheer chaos.  Even after all this time and all that had occurred during those long years, Angelus could still effect her.  The very knowledge that a man she'd only known for a few short months, and man that would one day be her best friend's lover could have her in such emotional anarchy, made Willow hate her weaknesses where matters of the heart were concerned.  How could she let herself fall in love with him, even if she'd never actually admitted it to him?  And now that he was this most evil of vampires, a thing to despise and destroy, why was she still confused?  <It's Spike's fault,> she told herself.  He'd proven to her that soulless vampires were capable of being gentle, caring, and if nothing else, at least friendly...for a short time, anyway.  A seed of false hope had been planted, her time with Spike nurturing it along until it established strong roots that couldn't be easily weeded away.  Even Spike's treachery had, apparently, not killed it entirely.

<Geesh! Could you be more pathetic, Willow?  It was a century ago and that man is dead!> she thought.  "Besides, you didn't really love him.  It was just a crush," Willow said aloud, trying to convince herself.  "A schoolgirl infatuation...just like the one's you had on John Cusack and Mulder from the X-Files!"  <Just a childish crush...just a childish crush...> became her new mantra as she paced the floor.

Eventually, the physically and mentally exhausted time traveler collapsed on the bed, still fully clothed.  After an hour or so of tossing and turning, she fell into a fitful sleep.

She either had several dreams that night or one very jumbled one--she wasn't quite sure which--all centering on Angelus, of course.  She'd remember only tidbits of it upon awakening, although if they were anything like her other ones, Willow would find that if she concentrated hard enough, she could remember them in more detail.  However, these were not dreams she'd want to remember.  They were nightmares, full of images of angry vampires, blood, and pain.

In the final images before she woke, however, there was little violence, and that made it the most terrifying one of all.  She saw herself surrendering to Angelus, in every way possible, and it was the feeling of his entering her, stealing the virginity that she'd guarded for so long, that brought her wide awake with a start.

Willow abruptly sat up in bed, the name 'Angelus' escaping her lips with a strangled cry.  She quickly looked down at herself to make sure that she was fully clothed and that it was, in fact, only a dream in which she had been writhing beneath the dark vampire so wantonly, taking pleasure in the feel of his skin against hers, his mouth capturing hers, moving her body in unison with his...

"Ya seem to like sayin' me name, me little flower," a voice came from the direction of the balcony doors.  "And from the dream ya seemed to be havin', I'm again flattered."

Even as she reflexively jumped in the opposite direction, Willow's eyes darted toward the sound of the voice.  The handsome vampire was lounging comfortably in the large armchair that she'd pushed in front of the apparently still-locked, glass-paneled balcony doors.

"What are you doing here?" the shaken woman asked with an equally trembling voice.  "How'd you get in?"

The vampire didn't answer immediately.  He seemed busy with a large book that was resting on his lap.  Her eyes narrowed, both in anger at his ignoring her questions and in confusion as she tried to figure out what he was doing in the sparsely lit room.

"Get out or I'll scream!" she barked, the threat momentarily stopping his intense concentration on the book that balanced upon his legs.

"Scream if ya like, but no one'll hear ya.  Yer the only one in this wing, after all."  He brought his finger to his mouth in a mocking imitation of deep thought.  "As to why I'm here, ya already know the answer to that.  As for how...."  For an answer he simply held up a large key and smiled smugly.  After a brief moment of intense scrutiny that made Willow feel as if she were not only standing before him naked, but also that he had a personal window into her soul, he returned his attention to the book on his lap as if there were nothing odd about him entering a woman's quarters without permission.

Willow fidgeted nervously next to the bed as she tried to figure out what to do.  Looking about the room for a weapon, she quickly noted that the fire poker had mysteriously vanished, leaving her only small vases and other decorative ornaments for weapons.  At the same time that it dawned on her that she was basically defenseless, Willow finally noticed the soft scratching noise coming from his direction.  After a few minutes of this, her curiosity got the better of her.  <Curiosity killed the cat!> a tiny voice reminded her.  <Well, I'm not a cat!> she quickly reminded herself.

"What are you doing...in my room?" she added demandingly, not wanting it to appear as if he were welcome to stay, yet at the same time craning her neck to try and get a better view.

He ignored her question, but as she finally took a few hesitant steps in his direction, Willow could see his hand quickly gliding over what appeared to be a large sketchbook.

"I wish ya would have stayed asleep fer a while longer.  The look on yer face was so beautiful.  It was almost as if ya were dead," he said gravely, glancing up at her again for a moment and absorbing her features with hungry eyes before returning to his task.

Willow furrowed her brow even further but still stepped closer.

"Done!" he finally exclaimed triumphantly, causing Willow to step back in alarm as he jumped to his feet.  Angelus looked back and forth between the pad and his unwilling subject.  "Ya should've been a model in Paris, Rose.  Ya could've made a lot of money, bein' an eternally young beauty," he said with only a touch of sarcasm.  "Now, do ya want to see it?"

Willow forced her head to shake negatively, even though she did want to see the sketch...very badly in fact.  She was finding the vampire's nonchalant and non-threatening demeanor a bit off-putting.  As a result, while she was far from relaxed, Willow was not feeling as overwhelmed as she should be.

"No," she added with a squaring of her shoulders as she tried to squash her own curiosity.  "All I want is...for you to leave my room...now!"

A small, half-smile settled on his face as he noted the indecision in the tone of her voice and in her every move.  "Ya can't lie to me, Rose.  Not about this.  Even as yer lips say no, yer eyes tell me that ya truly do want to see it."

"No, I don't," she declared more loudly, crossing her arms across her chest and letting her resolve face settle in for the duration.  "Now get out!"

Angelus shrugged indifferently.  "Tis a shame, as I think it's me best work.  But, if ya don't want to see it, I might as well rip it up, then, or throw it in the fire."

As he made a move toward the fireplace, Willow's hand reached out beseechingly as if it had a mind of its own.  "Wait!" she cried, trying to pretend as if she didn't notice her face was crimsoning with embarrassment as she spoke.  "Don't destroy it.  I...I want to see it."  Her 'resolve face' was already forgotten.

Angelus turned from the fire with an obviously fake look of bewilderment.  "Really?  Ya want to see this?" he teased.  When his mysterious witch nodded her head, he held out a hand.  "Come to me, then," he ordered, the sinister sneer returning to mar his handsome face.

Willow shook her head.  "I have perfectly good eyes...well, maybe not as good as yours, but I can see just fine from here!"

Angelus laughed wryly and took slow deliberate paces toward her.  "Fine, I will come ta you, then."

As he approached, Willow stood her ground, nervously tucking a piece of hair that had fallen loose behind her ears.  Instead of walking straight to her, however, he moved at an angle.  Constantly watching her through predacious eyes, he stalked her, even circling once, and Willow found herself unable to look away.  Part of her, the part she sometimes wished would just go away, the same part which had flourished during her nights with Spike, couldn't help appreciating the sensually dangerous way he moved.  <Damn, Spike!> she cursed silently.  <Look at what he did to me.  I'm warped for life now!>

Finally, the vampire stopped directly behind the redhead.  He eased his arms around either side of Willow, but he didn't pull her back against him.  Instead, Angelus just encircled her with his strong arms and held the sketch in front of her.

Willow's breath caught when she looked at the image of her as she slept.  The woman the dark demon had drawn was indeed beautiful, hauntingly so, in fact.  The artist had skillfully captured her sleepy essence on paper--the tousled halo of her hair, the wisps that fell loose from the pins to rest on her face, even the relaxed musculature of her jaw and cheek that could only come with sleep.  Yet, even though the charcoal sketch was of a woman immersed in slumber, Willow could see emotion playing across her face.  It was apparent in her slightly opened mouth and the subtle curve at the corners of her lips.  Or perhaps it was the way her hand appeared to clutch at the pillow as she slept.  All of it came together to form an image of a woman swept up in an unconscious emotional moment.  As Willow remembered some of the dreams she'd been having, she realized exactly what Angelus had caught in his rendering, causing her to flush in humiliation.

"Do ya like it?" he murmured against the nape of her neck even as the perfectionist in him smudged one of the charcoal lines of her sketched throat with his thumb, softening it even further.

She did like the drawing but was not going to admit it.  Willow could still remember the similar drawings Angelus would one day do of Jenny and Buffy and what those drawings meant...either the beginning of a deadly obsession or the end of a life.  Still, she couldn't help being mesmerized by the image before her.  Was this how he really saw her?  All of her life she'd been waiting for someone to see her like that.  Of course, Spike had told her she was beautiful and sexy, but she didn't know what to think of anything he'd said anymore.  Oz, too, had told her she was cute and adorable, but this was different.  The woman Angelus had drawn was sensual and mysterious.  There was nothing 'cute' about her.

"It...it doesn't look a thing like me," Willow retorted before easily leaving the circle of his arms to walk to a nearby bookcase.  She needed to focus her attention on something else and found herself staring blankly at the books without noticing the titles.

"I want you to leave...now!" she commanded once she came to her senses.

"It does look like ya, Rose.  That's the way I see ya, and from the dream ya were just havin', I'd say that the last thing ya want me to be doin' is leavin', my love," Angelus drawled, setting the picture on a nearby end table.

"Stop calling me that!" Willow huffed as she found her anger again and whirled around to show it to him.  "I'm not your love and I never was.  As for the dream, I also dreamt that I reduced you to a pile of ashes, so I'm kind of hoping that dreams do come true."  She noted with disgust that this only amused him more.  "Now leave, before I tell our host that you stole his key...and...and that you are behaving in a most...ungentlemanly-like manner and I have you thrown out!" she commanded, albeit a little halting, while pointing to the door.  "With any luck, you'll be thrown out in the middle of the day," she added under her breath without any difficulty whatsoever, but Angelus wasn't going anywhere.  He was exactly where he wanted to be--where he'd wanted to be for a long time now.

"You could try, me love," the dark vampire began as he slowly strolled around the room, examining the floral arrangements, vases, and other obvious displays of wealth with distaste.  "But unfortunately fer you, as ya probably already have learned, Mr. Simms is a terrible card player.  As a result, I long ago won his and his estates services fer just such an occasion.  A man who so openly displays his emotions doesn't belong at a card table, let alone breathin', if I'd any say in the matter."

Dismissing his opinion on their host, Willow concentrated on the matter at hand.  "What?  You mean, you own this manor?" she asked, making sure to stay well away from him as he explored her room.

He didn't bother to look up to answer her questions, choosing instead to focus on an oil still life on the wall next to the bed.  "No, although I could, but I much prefer havin' a man of means such as our Mr. Simms indebted ta me.  This whole weekend is just a small portion of what he be owin' me," Angelus said, without even trying to hide his displeasure at both Mr. Simms and his taste in art.

Willow's mouth fell open momentarily as she realized the depths of the deception that she was entangled in. "He helped you do this?  He helped you lure me out here so I'd be at your mercy?"

The vampire's perfunctory perusal of her suite continued.  "I think yer given him a bit more credit than he deserves, Rose.  All he knows is that I wanted ta arrange a game, and I picked some of the players, like yerself.  He knows not why, nor does he know what I am.  He simply knows that I'm not a man to be trifled with.  Somethin' ya seem not ta have learned yet," he said darkly, his attention once again fully focused on her.

There was a brief pause as Willow finished assessing the situation.  "So, it's to be rape, then?" she spat out suddenly at the vampire that was now closing in on her, deep down wondering if he would even have to take her by force, if her dreams meant anything.  <This is not some historical romance novel, Willow!> she rudely reminded herself.   <Angelus isn't just some misunderstood pirate that will change his evil ways the moment you sleep with him!  He's evil, 100% pure evil, and he's just toying with you...for now...>

Willow's question stopped Angelus in his tracks, and the devilish smile quickly deserted his face to be replaced with a scowl.  "I'm not a raper of women.  I--"

Willow laughed bitterly at this, interrupting him.  "So, I'm supposed to believe that while you have no moral problems with killing or torturing innocent people, that you'd never stoop to taking a woman against her wishes?  How noble of you, Angelus.  I'm sure your mother would be very proud."

For a moment, the vampire lost his carefully chosen composure as his anger got the best of him.  He was not used to a living woman talking so defiantly to him.  He closed the distance between them in two lightening-quick strides and pulled her to him.

"If I wanted to rape ya, Rose, I could have done it while ya slept or at any moment since then, and ya wouldn't be able ta stop me!" he growled at her, his face threatening to morph to his true form at any moment.

Willow turned her head away as the vampire yelled at her so that she wouldn't have to see the demon bubbling just below the surface, and so that perhaps he couldn't see just how scared she was at the moment.  It brought back too many memories--too many angry faces that lowered to her neck over the years--too many betrayals.  It was no longer the physical pain she was afraid of, it was the emotional scars that never seemed to heal completely.

"Any man in this house could take ya against yer wishes, Rose.  It doesn't take a demon ta force his will on yer kind nor does it take any kind of thought.  A man with the mind of a babe could do that, so why would I?" he asked, a little softer this time as he regained some control.

"Rape isn't challenging enough for you, Angelus?  Am I supposed to be grateful that you're a man who enjoys the more intellectual forms of hurting a woman?" Willow challenged, meeting his eyes as she tapped into her calm reserve once more.

Angelus's face slowly broke into a smile.  Even though she'd angered him and had dared to defy him, he was thoroughly enjoying himself.  Every minute he spent with her proved her to be more of a challenge and worthy of the time and effort he'd put into this whole affair.  The demon would've been disappointed if she'd broken down into hysterics at the sight of him.

"Yes," he answered her question with a soft caress of her cheek, "and as you know, I've always loved a challenge, as do you."  He finished by turning his finger so that the soft stroke left by its passing became more of a graze with his fingernail.  While it was just hard enough to raise the skin, it did not bleed.

Willow slid out of his reach and started away from him, but she was quickly pulled back as he grabbed her hand.

"Tell me what ya are, me little flower," he said firmly as he trapped her in his strong arms.  Holding her in such a way that it left no room for doubt that she was the opposite and weaker sex, he peered down at her  "That's why I'm here."

"Let me go and I'll tell you," Willow said breathlessly as she struggled to put some distance between their bodies.

"Yer in no position to be demandin' anythin', Rose.  Tell me, then I'll let ya go!" he countered coldly.

"No...I...I can't think when..."

"When yer in me arms?" he asked, finishing her sentence.

Instead of continuing the debate, she nodded in agreement.

Slowly and with a very pompous smirk, he released her, and Willow was free from his mind-numbing embrace.

"I don't know where to start," she finally said as she paced in front of the dying fire.

"Are ya a witch?" he asked casually as he strolled over to her bed and made himself comfortable.

"Yes.  I-I mean, no!  Oh, a long time ago I was learning a few spells but I was never very good, and this whole thing has really put me off spell casting of any sort, believe me!"

He nodded thoughtfully.  "And you were able to cast a spell that kept ya young?"

"No," the redhead answered then bit her lip for a moment as she tried to decide how much to tell him.  "It was this...vampire.  He kidnapped me and then mucked everything up and somehow the result was that as long as the spell is in effect, I don't age."

"What vampire?" he asked, leaning forward a bit as his curiosity about this other vampire that he saw her with in Galway knew no bounds.

Willow shook her head and increased the speed of her pacing.  "No, I won't tell you that," she told him adamantly, knowing that he was not going to be pleased.  Then a thought struck her, and she quickly added, "He wouldn't like me talking about him.  He'd be very unhappy with me."  Willow tried to look nervous and frightened as she spoke the words, wanting him to believe that she was truly afraid of the wrath of the other vampire.  And to some extent, she was.

Angelus noted the strong emotions that radiated from her when she spoke of the other vampire...fear, anger, confusion....  This other vampire seemed like a demon after his own undead heart.

"Ya will tell me, Rose," he said darkly.  "One day...one way or another."

"Well, you'd be disappointed if I willingly told you everything, wouldn't you?  Now at least you have a reason to torture me," she said haughtily.  Willow was putting up a brave front but her stomach was twisting in knots.  She and Spike had spent hours talking about what she'd say if she ever ran into Angelus again, but just being in his presence made her mind jumble.  It took all her relaxation techniques and all of her strength not to just curl up in a ball in the corner and cower in fear and confusion.  .

Angelus couldn't hide his amusement and had a hearty laugh at her expense.  "Trust me, me love, I won't need a reason.  Now, go on with yer story."

Willow took a deep breath, hoping that he wouldn't ask specifics until she had more time to reorganize her plan.  "Basically I'm stuck here until he ends the spell.  I can't be killed, so as a result, I can't be made into a vampire."

"Ya can't die?" he asked skeptically, getting up from the bed and approaching her yet again.

"Apparently not," she said softly, backing away as he came closer.

"Is that how ya escaped me the last time we met, then?  Or did this other vampire aid ya?"

"Y--Yes," she stuttered as she came up against the wall behind her.  "I mean, I heal faster than normal so I was able to escape on my own."

As he came to stop in front of the woman, effectively trapping her between himself and the wall, he captured her left hand and brought it to his mouth.

"And the wedding ring?  Is it just part of the spell?" Angelus asked as he licked at the tender flesh that surrounded the silver band.

Willow nodded her answer wordlessly.  <At least he still doesn't realize the ring I'm wearing is his!>  Her eyes flickered between their identical silver rings before letting out a small cry as he bit into the skin on the underside of her hand.

Because he was so caught up in the sensations her blood created in him, Angelus didn't even notice as he reverted to his natural demon appearance.  The vampire leaned his full weight against her as he suckled at the tiny wounds he'd made, wanting to feel her body tremble with fear in response to the contact with his own.  He could feel her heart pounding beneath her soft breasts, and their rapid rise and fall also revealed her emotional havoc.

Willow tried to push him away with her free hand, but it was like trying to move a mountain.  All she succeeded in doing was feeling his rippling chest beneath her splayed fingertips.  Try as she might, she couldn't keep her eyes from where her hand and the vampire's mouth joined.  Spike's words came to her unbidden and suddenly her thoughts turned to chocolate...and she involuntarily licked her lips.

Angelus's opened his eyes, raising them to meet hers at the precise moment her tongue darted out.  Her reaction caused him to cease his ministrations momentarily.  There was desire there.  He definitely saw it this time.  What amazed him, though, was not the fact that he could evoke feelings of physical need and lust in her, but that he'd done precisely that while he was in his vampiric visage, feeding from her.  Nevertheless, he quickly reverted back to his human form.

Angelus had seduced many women in his long history, but never had he done so in his true form.  First he would make them want what they thought he was...just a handsome rogue.  Only when it was too late would they wonder in the back of the desired-clouded minds why his skin was so cold or why their love play didn't make him gasp for breath.  By then, it was too late.  Of course there were women who knew what he was as well, concubines and the like that enjoyed a vampire's kiss, but that was completely different.

"There is so much hunger in ya, me love," he whispered huskily against the wound, his eyes holding hers while he tried to feed the flame that he saw flickering in her eyes.  "How is it that a beautiful flower such as yerself has gone so long without being plucked?"

Willow tried to calm herself and extinguish her body's response to the enigmatic vampire.  Even as she took the slow deep breaths that refocused her mind and renewed her willpower, the redhead found it hard to make herself pull away from him.  Slowly, she found her tongue and spoke the words that would break the spell that seemed to have entranced them both.

"If you're referring to my virginity, it's because of the spell."

Angelus had to force his mind to focus even as his very demon screamed for more of her exotic blood.  Needless to say, though, this revelation intrigued him as new routes of exquisite torture came to mind.

"Do ya mean to tell me that besides remainin' a beautiful young lass, ya will also remain a virgin due to the healin' powers of the spell?"

Willow wrinkled her brow as she tried to follow his thought process.  Finally it dawned on her.  He thought that her virginity kept restoring itself.  "Oh...*Oh*!  No!  It doesn't have anything to do with the healing process.  It's a requirement of the spell.  If I were to...um....lose my virtue...the spell would be ruined."

Angelus couldn't hide his disappointment as his plans to steal her maidenhood countless times turned to ashes.  "So, then, what would happen if ya were ta be...deflowered?" he asked a little distractedly.  At the same moment, he'd noted that the small wounds he'd made on her finger had already stopped bleeding.  He'd never seen such quick healing in the living before and it fascinated him.

Having had enough, Willow utilized his seeming preoccupation with the latest developments to escape his hold.  She skittered quickly to the other side of the room where she stopped to stare out the windows into the starlit night.  Willow felt a wrenching inside as her thoughts were dragged once again into the past to a conversation she'd had with Spike one day.

She remembered how Spike had woken her that morning, trailing tiny nibbles down the curve at the back of her knee.  At that point, they'd only been together for a few days and nights, and each time she had awakened from dreams similar to the lustier one she'd had tonight, except they revolved around Spike instead of Angelus.

She had sighed contentedly, signaling to Spike that she was awake  "I think I need to leave," she'd told him suddenly, instantly regretting the way the words sounded.  Spike had ceased his sensual pampering of her sensitive flesh to climb back up to the head of the bed and roll her in such a way that she lay on top of him.

"What did you say?" he'd demanded.  "Why do you want to leave?  Bloody hell, you just got here, Pet.  Not to mention the fact that we finally learned to put our mouths to some other use than yelling at each other," he'd added with a devilish grin before pulling her head down to his.  He'd plundered her mouth hungrily and Willow had allowed herself to be drawn into the fog of passion that Spike was so easily able to create, not that she'd put up much of a fight.

It had been hours later before Willow was rational enough to concentrate, but she hadn't known how to bring up the subject again.

"Why do you want to leave?" he'd finally asked, raising himself up on one elbow to study her face and caress her still-flushed skin at the same time.

"I don't.  I'm just afraid that one of these times we're going to get carried away, and, well..."

"And what?"

That was a good question.  They had never really discussed what would happen if she were to completely give into her body's needs.  Willow'd propped herself up on an elbow so that they were facing each other, like two naked bookends.

"Spike, what would happen...if...well...you know...what would happen to the spell."

Spike pursed his lips.  "Crikey, I don't know, love.  I just always assumed we would be stuck here, but that you would become mortal again.  I suppose it's possible that we'd suddenly find ourselves back in Sunnyhell as well, like nothing had ever happened."

Willow had nodded her head thoughtfully, then suddenly poked him the chest with an excited finger.  "Or...it may be like in that movie ...um, what was it called..." she'd asked herself aloud as she worried her lip with her teeth. "...oh, Lost Horizon I think it was!  In the movie, there was this lost civilization and the people who lived there never aged...Then one day, these strangers, adventurers, discovered it.  Anyway, to make a long story short--"

"That'd be a first for you, Red...making a story short," Spike had teased, his hand once again moving over the curve of her hip.

Willow had smacked him playfully on his chest before continuing.  "...as I was saying, of course, one of the local women and one of the adventurers fall in love.  So when the adventurer decides to leave--"

"Why the bloody hell would the poof do a daft thing like that?  He was in paradise.  He was basically immortal, had a woman to keep him warm at night, and he left?  What a wanker!" Spike had scoffed.  "Humans can be so stupid sometimes."

"I don't know why he had to leave, he just did.  Now, shush and listen!  The woman went with him and when she left the confines of their city, she began to age rapidly...very rapidly.  In a matter of minutes she was an old woman, and soon he had nothing in his arms but a pile of dust and bones.  All the years that she'd avoided aging because of some magical force caught up with her all at once.  It was very sad...."

Spike had ceased his smiling and teasing, even his cool fingers had stopped their playful torment.  He'd moved away and laid on his back, staring at the ceiling.  He'd clenched his jaw over and over again as he considered what she said before turning back to look into her beautiful face.  "So, what you're saying is, if you were to shag me, or anyone for that matter, you could suddenly become over a 100 years old?"

Willow had nodded, then it hit had her what it really meant.  It was possible that if she were to have sex that it would kill her.  The realization had been like a slap of cold water, and she'd quickly clutched the sheet and pulled it up to her chin before rolling over.  Spike had slid up behind her and pulled her back against him, cupping a breast with his hand, not in need, but just because it seemed to belong there.

"Willow, don't worry.  I can control myself.  You have to trust me," he'd murmured against the nape of her neck, swirling his tongue just beneath her hairline before kissing it gently.

Willow had nodded slightly and sighed, then closed her eyes.  She'd had no dreams that night as she slept secure and safe in Spike's arms.

Angelus's movement on the other side of the room brought Willow back from her memories.  "We're not sure," she started abruptly.  "It's possible that nothing would happen and the spell would just end, leaving me stuck here...in Britain, I mean."  She whispered a silent prayer that he had yet to ask her about where she came from, let alone when.  "Or, I may age very rapidly and turn to dust as the years I've spent looking like this catch up with me, or we could just disappear, going back to where we first cast the spell and then none of this will have ever happened.  I just don't know."

Angelus leaned against the wall and watched her as she spoke about the other vampire and her possible future.  This other vampire had obviously hurt her in some way.  Maybe not physically, but the way her face darkened when she had to think of him made Angelus almost jealous of this other odd-looking demon.  He'd succeeded where Angelus had yet to...he'd gotten under her skin and wormed his way into her soul, changing her permanently.  And while Angelus had no doubt that he'd also achieved this is many ways, it was more due to the feelings that she'd once had for his living, souled self, not because he'd caused the redhead to care about his vampiric self.  It would happen though...he had no doubt about that at all.

The silence was eerie to Willow.  She had expected him to ask more questions, especially about Spike, but he was simply watching her instead.  It was obvious that he was thinking, probably trying to decide his next move, but she thought she preferred him talking to plotting.  Still, she couldn't think of anything to say.

"It's gettin' to be late, my flower," Angelus informed her, breaking the uncomfortable silence, "and since I hardly wish to ruin yer reputation by bein' seen leavin' yer room by some scullery maid, we need to be gettin' on with the other matters."

"O--other matters?" Willow squeaked.  "I've already told you everything that I can or will!"

Angelus shook his head in wry disbelief.  "I know there is more fer ya to be tellin' me, but that can wait.  Right now we need to be discussin' our little wager."

That wasn't quite what the redhead was expecting to hear, and she was filled with a sense of relief.  But that was short lived as it dawned on her that he would, of course, have ulterior motives.

"What wager?  Save the betting for the table, Angelus," she told him while she busied herself with poking at the fire.

"Now, Rose, as much as I love takin' all these other sods money, *yer* what I'm here fer."

That was no surprise to Willow, but she found it more frightening then flattering.  "I'm not part of the game," she informed him as she added some wood to feed the flames, hoping to warm her chilled body and soul.

"You and I are the best players here, by far.  These rich old men aren't gamblers.  They're just bored and willin' ta throw money away fer a little excitement in their lives.  Even if they lose all they brought, which I assure ya they will, they have a thousand times more at home, at least.  But you and I, Rose.  We're different from them.  We know what it means ta be takin' risks...suffer the consequences...don't we?"

Willow shook her head, denying the possibility that she had anything in common with the evil vampire.  "I don't know what you mean, Angelus.  A game is a game, either you win or you lose.  That's all."

Angelus came up behind her and gently stroked her hair.  "Ah, come now, lass.  We both know there is so much more to it than that.  What ya were doin' before I arrived, that wasn't gamblin'...that was just card playin'.  It's not until ya actually stand to lose somethin' that ya can't bear to part with that it becomes gamblin'.  It's the risk ya love, Rose.  It excites ya...I can see it in yer eyes when ya play, even when there's only money at stake."

Willow, preoccupied by Angelus's comments, didn't even think to pull away from him.  "Poker is plenty risky for me when it's only money to be lost, Angelus," she said quietly, engrossed in her own thoughts.  A lot of what he'd said she couldn't dismiss.  She enjoyed poker.  Heck, who was she kidding?  She loved it!  But if it weren't for the gambling aspect of the game, she could take it or leave it.  Yet, when the stakes were high and the competition fierce, the rush of adrenaline she felt was almost like...<Control yourself Willow...he's doing this on purpose!>

"Don't even try ta deny it, my love.  Ya love the game, and ya love ta be playin' someone who's a true challenge to ya.  Ya came alive tonight, Rose, but not until I sat at the table.  Not until ya had a worthy opponent."

Finally coming to her senses, Willow stepped out of his reach.  "I can't believe how conceited you are," she commented to the flames.  "I was surprised and frightened to find you there, to--to have to sit across from a vampire.  What you saw was the result of me having to be in the presence of a killer, and that's all!"

Angelus acted as if he didn't even hear her.  "Do ya have any idea how beautiful ya were tonight?  The fire in yer eyes when ya raised the stakes, the way ya wet yer lips whenever I called yer hand.  I wanted to sketch ya right then and there ta catch the look of anticipation as ya played--"

"Angelus--"

But the dark vampire didn't stop.  "I want ta see how beautiful ya are when the winnin's are higher, me Rose.  It would be a shame if the only thing you and I stood ta lose tomorrow was money, when we would both enjoy a different manner of profit."

Willow spun around but was surprised to see how near he was and had to quickly face back toward the hearth.  "Angelus...it's only a game..." she mumbled unconvincingly.

"Not ta you, it's not.  Nor ta me.  It's life, Rose, and we both know it--without risk, there isn't much point ta either."

Considering his words, Willow viciously jabbed at the fire with a long piece of kindling until it roared back to life.  She stared into the fire, wishing she could burn away her confusion over Angelus until there was nothing left but ashes.

"What...do you have in mind?" Willow finally asked as her curiosity for the better of her.

"When I win, Rose, ya will come back ta London with me, in me carriage, of yer own free will."

Willow put on her poker face, the unreadable one that she'd learned from many long and hard lessons with Spike, not all of which were about cards.  Then she slowly turned to look him in his cold, dark eyes.

"*When I* win, what do I get?"

He met her stare with a penetrating one of his own.  "Ya get to leave on yer own.  Ya get yer freedom."  He paused for a moment, waiting to see hope flash in her eyes, but she kept her emotions well hidden, much to his dismay.  "Consider it a head start, because I'll not stop lookin' fer ya, Rose.  I've found ya and I won't lose ya again...ever.  But, this way I'm given ya a sportin' chance..." he trailed off, smirking.

Willow crinkled her forehead as she thought his offer through.  "Why are you even bothering with the bet?  You could easily force me to come with you.  And how do I know that you won't change your mind...that you'll keep your word?  From my past experiences, vampires aren't the most trustworthy creatures of the night," she grumbled.

Angelus just shrugged, but on him, even that simple gesture looked menacing.  "Before I saw how good ya were, I had every intention of takin' ya against yer will, but now that I've seen the passion in yer eyes when ya play.  Well, if ya best me, it'll almost be worth it just ta see yer face when ya show me yer winnin' hand.  However, I'll just find ya later and take ya with me by whatever means necessary.  But fer now, I want Lady Luck and yer own skill at the game to decide yer fate."

Willow began to rub her temples as a dull throbbing began.  <Why am I even thinking about this?>

"But," Angelus continued, seeing her reluctance, "if ya refuse, and I have ta take ya kickin' and screamin', I will.  It just means I won't be able ta play poker with these pathetic men again, and I do so like takin' their money.  Of course, some innocent people are likely ta be killed in the process as well..."

Willow shook her head.  She couldn't believe this was happening--that everything she'd worked for could end because of a poker game...a game that shouldn't have even been invent yet...the game that Spike had taught her...the game that Angelus had taught his childe.  Irony was a bitch.

"How do I know that I can trust you?" she questioned him through a heavy sigh.  "That you'll let me leave on my own when I win and that you won't just steal me away in my sleep or throw me over your shoulder like some barbarian?"

"Ya have me word, Rose.  Would it help if I swore on a bible fer ya?  I'm sure Mr. Simms is a God-fearin' man, and we can find a scarcely used copy around here somewhere," he laughed arrogantly.

What choice did she have, whether she trusted him or not?  She couldn't leave; he'd made sure of that.  So she could either win and leave with her dignity intact, lose and made a scene knowing that it would probably end in bloodshed, or lose and go quietly under the guise of his friendship and protection.  There was no choice to be made.  His threat to hurt innocent bystanders had clinched the deal.

"Okay, I agree to your terms, Angelus.  Now go," she told him wearily.  Willow suddenly felt every second of her one-hundred-plus years.

Angelus clucked at her impatience.  "One more small matter," Angelus said.  He then walked to the wardrobe and threw open the doors.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, as he started going through her clothes, throwing some of her gowns on the floor.

"Tryin' to find somethin' more suitable fer ya ta wear tomorrow.  In that dress yer wearin' ya might as well be in a convent!" he told her with disdain, casting an impatient look at the modest cut of her current clothing.  "I want every man and demon down there ta see what will never be theirs and what will forever be mine!"

Willow rolled her eyes at his possessive language.  What was it about vampires and the word 'mine'?

"No!  First of all, I'm not yours and I never will be!  But, more importantly, I'm not some doll for you to dress up, or some trophy to impress your blood-sucking buddies with!" she informed him, exhaustion making her impudent.  She grabbed a blue dress from the pile the vampire had made on the floor.  It was long sleeved and had quite a high lace collar, but the cut was very flattering to her.  The lines of it nicely showed off her assets, without being obvious or making her self-conscious.  <Last thing I need is all the men staring at my chest!  Although...it could distract him and help me win...> she thought briefly.  <No, I'll win because I'm the best, not because of my body!>

"I'm wearing this tomorrow.  It's the only thing suitable that I haven't worn already!" she informed him brusquely.  Angelus eyed the high cut gown with displeasure.  It would show little of her neck or collarbone, let alone her soft, tantalizing bosoms.

"No, ya won't be needin' that frock...ever again."  He turned back to the task at hand, looking at the three dresses.  "Don't ya have anythin' that's *red*?"

Willow started picking up the mess he'd made.  "No, I don't have anything red!  I'm supposed to have just come out of my mourning period, in case you didn't know.  Widow, remember?" she griped, but Angelus paid her no heed.

"Ah!  That's more like it!" he extolled as he held up an emerald-green evening dress that he'd found in a garment bag in the back.  It was still too modest for his taste, but at least it was of a style that was worn off the shoulders.  It would look beautiful on her, accentuating her graceful neck, coppery hair and angelic face.

Willow shook her head adamantly.  "No, I can't wear that...that's an evening dress.  I brought it just in case there was a more formal dinner.  I can't show that much skin during the day they'll think I am some sort of...prostitute!"  She shoved the more simple and demure dress in his face.  "This is what I'm wearing, and I don't care what you have to say, now get out!"

Grabbing the dress she was holding, Angelus placed two hands along its ample hem line.  With one swift motion, he pulled it apart, rendering a huge tear from the bottom to the waist.  "Guess ya won't be wearin' it now, will ya?" he said with a cocky smirk before dropping it on the floor.  Then he thrust the green dress at her.  "Yer wearin' this, or do I have ta rip up every article of clothin' in this room?" he snarled, making Willow remember exactly what he was again.  "And wear yer hair up...I want ta see yer pretty, fragile little neck," he added, moving his hand so that it wrapped around her throat and giving it a slight squeeze.

"Go to hell, Angelus!" she retorted as she stepped away from him.  "But first, get out of my room!"

Angelus laughed.  "Ya want me to go ta hell, do ya?  As if that would be a punishment fer a man like me" he snickered again.  "If I do go ta hell, my flower, I'll take ya with me.  Yer mine, and ya best be rememberin' that!" he said darkly, stepping closer.  "And now, a goodnight kiss and I'll leave ya ta yer dreams of me."

"Just go," Willow said weakly, turning to face away from him.  She was drained and wanted to sleep.

"One day, me love, ya will beg fer my lips on yer skin," he whispered in her ear without touching her.  "But I can wait.  We have forever, remember.  Forever."

Forever.  That last word sent a shudder of fear through her body.  Forever for vampires was a very long time...too long.

Before Willow found the strength to turn around, she heard him open the door.  She didn't relax until she saw the door click closed behind him.  After locking the door, Willow quickly threw a few more logs on the fire and changed into her nightgown.  Snuggling as deeply under the covers as she could, she still couldn't seem to get warm, even with the blazing fire.  Eventually, however, she managed to fall into a deep dreamless sleep.

next