Disclaimer: Joss owns the characters. Anything you do not recognize is mine unless otherwise indicated.
Rating: PG-13 to R.
Couples: W/S, W/A, Some W/S/A, W/Aus.
Content: Willow wakes up and finds herself in a very precarious situation. Language.
Music Muse: Sarah McLachlan's song Possession. Lyrics included at the end.
Feedback: Always needed.
Dedicated: For Nell, Poppy, Stevo, and Shar. The feedback was great. This one is for you guys. Also, Nell....AN AWARD!!! Thanks darling. You're the best. :)
Notes: ANGELUS WAS SPIKE'S SIRE! Henceforth, Spike is Willow's sire. *laughs*
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Spike paced. Angel paced. Willow slept the sleep of the dead. It had been 12 hours since Spike had turned Willow, and still she'd not woken from her slumber. He was plenty worried. And mad. He turned on his path and picked up an expensive vase, one of Angel's rare pieces, and chucked it against the wall, where it made a satisfying crash.
His sire's head whipped around at the sound, and he snarled. "SPIKE. That was a twenty thousand dollar Ming vase."
"So? If it my fault you spend your money on poufy artwork?" Spike growled back. Now was not the time for the grand pouf to mess with him. Willow was comatose, he'd lost all the people he cared about, and he was beginning to think Angel'd lost his bloody mind.
"Yes, it is your fault, William." Angel emphasized the hated name, barely cracking a smile at the anger radiating off of his childe. "You always begged me to fill our home with pretty things, so I did. Now it's simply a habit. It's not like you and I live together anymore."
Now what the fuck was THAT comment supposed to mean? Sure, he loved Angel, demon and all, but that was a long time ago, and there was no way in hell he was going back to that kind of relationship. He had Willow now. But still.....the way his sire's ass swung in those leather pants.....BLOODY HELL!! Spike cursed and shook his head from the direction his thoughts were taking. He resumed his pacing.
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Willow was in a place where there was nothing. Well, almost nothing. It was like the void, but she was standing on firm ground, and she had no desire to leave, except for some small niggling thought at the back of her mind telling her she had some place to be. Soon. She could hear voices on the wind, calling her, arms reaching for her.
Visions came out of the blackness, memories that she had long since forgotten, even though they were not that old. It seemed that she was, though, and they were coming from far away.
Buffy voice, accompanied by a vision of her and Xander and Willow at the beach, the sun playing on her tanned shoulders, laughing and tossing sand at Giles as he tried not to burn like a lobster.
Another, behind her, of when she was littler, of her and Xander and Jesse holding a meeting of the 'We Hate Cordelia' club...their childish voices carried on the wind past her, and she reached out her hands to catch them as they drifted past like a misty fog.
Willow wasn't scared, on the contrary, she longed to stay here and be with her friends, where she was loved. She enjoyed the darkness, and the silence that sometimes enveloped her like a cloak.
But deep inside she knew that her time here was running out, and she must return, to those who loved her.....Spike. Spike. SPIKE? Was that the niggling thought? Willow was far from being satisfied, but she turned her back on the dreamscape and walked.....walked back into herself....where Spike was waiting for her.
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