The Pit

By Medea

Chapter Two

Willow had barely set foot inside the sparsely-furnished room when she heard the door slam shut and Spike order in clipped tones, "Clothes. Off. Now."

She turned to stare at him dubiously as she mentally prepared herself for what she imagined would follow. It was as though she were back in the motel room with her sire on that first night. However, Spike must have perceived her hesitation as an act of defiance, for the next thing Willow knew, her throat was encircled by an iron grip and she was being lifted off her feet by a very angry demon. She looked down the powerful arm that held her aloft and into fiery yellow eyes as Spike rumbled dangerously, "Don't test me. Strip, or I'll do it for you."

Abruptly he dropped her to the floor. Although she fumed silently at the rough handling, Willow moved quickly to undress herself, figuring that she would just have to hold her tongue and, eventually, the evening would be over. After all, as much as she loathed the idea, she had agreed to this.

Almost before she realized it, Willow found herself flat on her back on the bed. Spike didn't bother to undress himself, but merely unzipped his fly and thrust into her furiously for about ninety seconds. The only indication that he'd achieved his release was the sudden, final jerk, after which he grimaced in pleasure for a few moments, and then pulled out of her. Willow was left wondering what on earth had just happened, but had little time to ponder their whirlwind coupling because as soon as Spike had re-zipped his jeans, he yanked her to her feet and dragged her to the bathroom.

She was confused still further when he ordered her to climb in the bathtub, where she huddled, waiting, while he returned to the bedroom and rummaged through the closet. When he came back with an extension cord, Willow watched, dumbfounded, as he bound her wrists tightly and then tied them to the plumbing.

"Nice and comfy, I hope?" Spike taunted her. "Let's see how you like it for a change."

And with that he flipped off the light switch, sauntered out of the bathroom and pulled the door shut behind him, leaving Willow sitting in the tub, alone, in the dark.

The symbolism was not lost on her, and she set her jaw grimly. So he was out for a little payback, and she happened to be the only available target from Sunnydale. Fine. She could handle this, if this was his idea of revenge.

Although something told her that this was just the beginning.

Ten minutes passed. Then twenty.

She sensed his presence returning to the room, and smelled the faint aroma of blood. He must have found the recent delivery that Angel's co-workers had left in the employee refrigerator. Willow recognized that this was just another form of torture. Her hunger gnawed at her and bid her struggle against the bonds that restrained her until she broke free and could tend to her own feeding. It was Spike's way of ensuring that she experienced every ache, every pang, every humiliation he had felt while at the mercy of the Slayer and company.

So she resisted the urge to howl in frustration and rattle the pipes. She was determined not to give him the satisfaction.

After another forty minutes, the bathroom door opened and Spike entered, flipping on the light before he approached his obstinate captive. Willow forced herself not to stare at his now-nude body, and denied herself the luxury of admiring his lithe, graceful movements, despite the fact that like his sire, he exuded an intoxicatingly-potent signature. Instead, she feigned boredom and stared disinterestedly at the sink.

Spike deftly undid the cord that bound her wrists to the plumbing, but left her wrists constrained. He tugged upward on her bonds, and wordlessly, Willow complied by rising to her feet and stepping out of the bathtub. Exploiting his advantage as an older, more powerful vampire and the appeal he knew he held for her latent, demon instincts, Spike drew her body intimately against his. He then leaned in close, until his lips hovered tantalizingly near hers, and teased her with the scent of the blood he had recently consumed. Willow nearly shook from the effort it took to subdue her hunger, and Spike smirked triumphantly.

"You enjoy it, don't you?" he whispered seductively in her ear. "Feeding from Angel...it's so much more satisfying than bagged blood. The rich taste...the power...there's nothing quite like a Master's blood, is there, little minion?"

He taunted her yet further, raising his wrist and holding it within lunging distance of Willow's trembling lips. "Do you want this, Willow?...Do you want to taste me, drink me down and let my strength flow through your veins?"

Willow's control slipped, and her tongue darted out of her mouth and eagerly licked her lips. However, it was all that Spike needed to feel satisfied that he had achieved the desired effect, and he withdrew his wrist abruptly and sneered, "It's too bad that I don't feel much like sharing this evening."

With that, he dragged her back to the bedroom, shoved her to her knees in front of the closet door, and lashed her wrists to the doorknob. Willow viciously clamped down on her nerves, not wanting to reveal the slightest trace of fear, despite the fact that she now had a clear, terrible premonition about what would come next.

Her suspicion was confirmed when she detected the swift whisk of a leather belt being yanked through fabric belt loops on pants.

The first stinging blow caught her across the right shoulder, and Willow bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out.

"That," Spike snarled bitterly, "was for the Slayer, the bloody thorn in my side. *This* is for her sodding prick of a Watcher."

Harsh, angry blows rained down on Willow's back, shoulders, buttocks, hips, and thighs, each one marked with a succession of names or grievances in Spike's litany of revenge against every memory associated with Sunnydale.

"This is for the damned Initiative and their bloody chip..."

*Crack*

"...for Xapper the brainless git..."

*Crack*

"...chaos demons..."

*Crack*

"...the robot bint..."

*Crack*

By the time Spike tossed aside his belt and hauled Willow over to the bed her face was streaked with red, bloody tears. The pain had overwhelmed her self-control after the twenty-sixth stroke, but Willow took a small measure of comfort in the fact that she hadn't screamed. That, at least, she had been able to deny him.

Without missing a beat, Spike centered himself between Willow's thighs and commenced a prolonged assault on his reluctant partner. Willow soon discovered his tactic for humiliating her.

And so help her, his strategy worked.

He took her in a number of positions, but did so in a way that made her feel like an accessory. Although he elicited moans of pleasure from her as his lips and teeth traveled across her body, he never once kissed her full on the mouth and rarely bothered to look her in the eyes. He treated her as if she weren't really there, as if above the waist she was nothing more than an afterthought. The worst, though, was the deliberate, torturous method he used to bring her close to release without ever letting her complete the crest, despite the fact that he himself came more times than Willow cared to count.

In other words, he demeaned her and used her for his own gratification. Then, he discarded her with the same indifference he might show a used condom.

It was nearly dawn before he finished and shoved her unceremoniously out into the hallway.

As she walked back to Angel's suite, clutching the clothes that she had not bothered to put back on, Willow's throat tightened painfully and tears stung at the corners of her eyes. She berated herself for caring, for revealing her weakness, but learned that she did indeed still possess the human capacity to feel.

She could still feel hurt.

Angel was waiting for her in the doorway to his quarters, and drew her into a reassuring embrace when she reached him. Sweeping her up in his arms, he carried her to his bed and then eased down onto it, cradling her against his chest. Knowing that his lover was exhausted and heartsick after her night with his childe, Angel refrained from speaking and simply held her head close to his neck, urging her to satisfy her own needs. While he ran his fingers tenderly through her hair, she drank from him as if she were seeking her redemption, until her body began to relax and she slowly drifted off.

*****

Upon waking the following afternoon, Willow found Angel hovering over her with a sympathetic, protective expression in his eyes as he gazed back at her.

"Hey," he murmured softly with a smile.

"Hey back," Willow grinned, although when she moved to sit up the residual soreness on her back elicited a grimace of pain.

All traces of the smile vanished from Angel's face and were replaced by deep concern. Turning her gently so he could examine the welts on her back, which were already fading due to the resilience of her vampire physique, he asked, "Are you willing to tell me what he did to you?"

She shrugged. "You can pretty much see the extent of the damage there."

"Can I?" Angel pressed, turning her back to face him and caressing her cheek with his palm. "Spike excels in exploiting vulnerability and inflicting wounds that aren't visible on the outside."

Willow smiled sorrowfully at how well Angel knew his childe, and reflected briefly on what she would tell him, and what she preferred to keep to herself.

"Let's just say he reminded me why I hated my sire," she offered slowly. "I don't like being treated like a *thing*...and we'll leave it at that. I'd like to put it behind me and concentrate on everything we've been doing to help me get stronger."

Admiring her determination, yet wishing that there was something more that he could do, Angel respected her wishes and leaned forward to place a kiss on her forehead. They shared a warm smile before climbing out of bed to dress in their workout gear and prepare for another sparring session. Willow once again performed her rejuvenating spell and then joined Angel for a mug of blood.

While Angel explained that it might be best for them to stick to a few less-strenuous routines until Willow's back had fully recovered, the two of them became aware of human presences in the building. Assuming that Cordelia, Gunn or Wesley had stopped by to check in, the two vampires proceeded to stroll out to the lobby. However, they hastened their pace when they heard voices raised in alarm followed by a loud crash. When they burst out into the lobby prepared instinctively to fend off a potential threat, both Willow and Angel halted abruptly and stared at the scene before them, completely dumbfounded.

Irritably, a very naked Spike looked up at them as he lay pinned to the floor by one very enraged Xander Harris and demanded, "Don't just stand there, get this wanker off me!"

*****

Spike had awakened earlier that afternoon feeling more like a demon than he had in several months, and he relished the change. Nothing could lift his spirits quite like a good spot of violence -- particularly when it also happened to be vengeance. He figured the Poof would be along to pound him eventually for whipping the little chit, but it was worth it. Hell, he'd needed it after what the Slayer and her lackeys had put him through.

Of course, it didn't hurt that the redhead was hiding a real vixen beneath that unassuming exterior.

He had no doubt about that. Spike was experienced enough that wrenching screams out of a minion normally posed little challenge. So it intrigued him that she had somehow mustered the strength (or stubbornness) to hold it in, despite the fact that he had delivered a fairly vicious beating.

She fought him every step of the way...and it drove him absolutely wild.

At that point, his need to take out a year's worth of misery at the hands of a pathetic band of adolescent humans had given way to a much more primal need to make the enticing creature at his feet submit to his will. If he couldn't make her scream one way, he'd bring out other, more sensual screams that would satisfy them both. He'd make her beg.

But she hadn't begged.

Oh, she'd moaned.

She'd writhed and bucked something wicked, alright.

But she wouldn't beg.

Spike lost count of the times he'd brought her right to the edge and left her hanging, determined not to give her the release he knew she was aching for until she screamed for it -- for *him*. Frustrated at his inability to get through to her, he'd finally sent her on her way.

And then he'd spent much of the morning staring at the ceiling and gritting his teeth, feeling edgy and dissatisfied.

Still, after he'd awakened in the afternoon, he'd felt revitalized. In a much better mood than he'd been in when he first arrived in L.A., he wandered out to the refrigerator he'd found behind the front desk in the lobby, to fetch a quick drink of O positive. Not anticipating that he'd encounter anyone other than the Poof or the little vixen, he didn't bother to put on any clothes. If he happened upon either of them...well, even with the Poof mad at him, the possibilities were rather tantalizing.

However, he most certainly did not expect two of the Slayer's side-kicks to waltz in on him, unannounced, as he stood in nude glory with a trickle of blood running down his chin and a half-devoured Red Cross pouch in his hand.

Tara simply froze in place, while Xander did a quick about-face and, keeping his back to the brazenly-naked vampire, blurted out awkwardly, "Okay, we can add this to the list of images I don't need romping around in my mind."

"Yeah, well who invited you?" Spike retorted, not terribly keen on the idea of the boy retaining this vision of him, either. "What the bloody hell are you doing here?"

Still riveted to the floor, her eyes wide, Tara managed to stammer, "W-we're here to s-see Willow. When Angel wouldn't tell us w-why she wasn't coming home, we were w-worried that something was wrong."

"Is she here?" Xander added over his shoulder, careful to direct his eyes at anything but Spike. "Have you seen her?"

"Oh, I've seen her all right," Spike gloated, unable to believe the wicked stroke of luck that had presented him with another chance to get even with the Sunnydale crowd. "I've seen every inch of her there is to see. And she's definitely here somewhere. By the time I was through with her, she was probably too tired to do more than crawl back to Peaches."

Forgetting the "ick" factor in seeing the blond vampire au naturel, Xander pivoted one hundred and eighty degrees and fixed him with a cold stare. "What did you say?"

"She takes a beating like a real pro," Spike continued lightly, "And she's got stamina -- Cor, what a ride!"

Xander seemed to relax, obviously assuming that Spike was manufacturing the vulgar scenario just to provoke him. "Keep your sick fantasies to yourself, Spike, and just tell us where to find Willow."

"Oh, you think I'm joking?" came Spike's amused reply, "Well, that's a shame. Although it will make it all the more priceless when you see the new-and-improved Willow and realize that I meant every word I said."

For a brief, terrible moment Spike's words hung in the air between them, as Xander attempted to dispel the sickening feeling that there was a small, twisted measure of truth to what the vampire had said. It had been the suspicion that something was wrong that had caused the youth and Tara to make the trip from Sunnydale to L.A. in the first place. Xander finally decided that whether or not the vile insinuations were true, his patience with the arrogant demon had run out.

"You know, Spike, I should have done this the minute you got chipped," Xander spat out contemptuously as he stormed over and punched Spike in the face. "And every night since then. Now, are you going to tell me WHERE Willow is?! Huh?! Where the HELL is SHE?!"

Xander's interrogation was punctuated with several more punches that the chipped vampire was unable to deflect, much less return. In his effort to stay just out of Xander's reach, Spike backed up into an end table and sent a lamp crashing to the floor. The Red Cross pouch sailed out of his hand and landed with a splat, rendering a sanguinary Jackson Pollack on the floor's surface. Within the span of a heartbeat, Xander had knocked him down and began pummeling him.

And so Angel and Willow found him when they dashed in to investigate the commotion.

"Don't just stand there," Spike bit out impatiently, "get this wanker off me!"

*****

<Oh, no...> Willow cringed inwardly, not yet prepared to explain her condition to her Sunnydale companions. <Why did it have to be now?>

Seeing his friend apparently safe and sound just a few feet away from him, Xander gave Spike one final, disgusted shove and then stood up to approach her.

"Hey Wills," he said tentatively.

"Hey." Willow managed a weak grin.

"Spike, go put something on," Angel hissed, scowling at his troublesome childe. No one paid much attention as the younger demon left, as all eyes were riveted toward Willow.

"H-how was the conference?" Tara asked her somewhat uncertainly.

"It was great! You have to meet these two witches I had dinner with -- Hannah and Cyrene -- they have some really great healing spells, and they exchange e-mail with a Druid in Brittany," Willow spoke animatedly, postponing the inevitable by hiding behind her enthusiasm for *most* of the weekend's events.

"Wow...they sound really cool," Tara agreed, even as she recognized that they were all dancing around...something...she wasn't quite sure what.

"Yeah, that's great," Xander piped up, "So...we weren't planning on staying long. Wanna hitch a ride back home? We've got the car out front."

Willow bit her lip. Angel was on the verge of offering an excuse for her, when she murmured softly:

"I can't go back with you, Xander."

Her best bud looked back at her, fully aware that there was a problem, and waited for her continue. As she struggled to think of the best way to tell Xander and Tara what had happened without alienating them completely, Xander attempted to lighten the mood by joking, "Don't tell me Cordy has got you all fired up to leave the vamps and demons and zombies behind and go after that break-through role that will make you a star..."

It was a remark that should have elicited at least a grin, but unfortunately the idea of leaving the world of the undead behind hit too close to home. Willow finally resolved that she should "just do it", and counted on Angel to back her up if needed.

"Actually, that would be kind of difficult, Xan," she observed wryly, "Something kind of happened after the conference."

"Are you okay?" Tara asked, her brow furrowed with concern.

"Well...that depends on your definition of okay. Guys, there's something I can do that will explain this really quickly...but then it's going to take a bit longer to explain...why I can do what I can do that will explain things..." came the rather confused babble from Willow's mouth.

"Uh, Wills...I've known you for nearly all our lives, and that's right up there with one of the most confusing things you've ever said," Xander stated warily.

"I know, but this isn't even something *I've* fully come to grips with yet, so it's really hard for me to come up with a really clear explanation," she protested.

"Umm...so, what is...what happened?" Tara brought them back to the main point.

Resigned, and sensing that Angel had moved closer to her in order to support her against their reactions, Willow let her demon face come to the fore.

Both Tara and Xander stepped back in horror, too stunned to respond. Willow decided she would spare them the need to speak and continued calmly:

"It happened while I was waiting for a bus after dinner. I haven't had that long to adjust to it myself, so I'm still figuring things out, but Angel has promised to help me. I never would have believed it, but there's a lot to learn about being a vampire. Or, at least, the kind of vampire I am."

Dazed, Xander began backing away again and shaking his head. "No... no, this isn't happening...you can't be...oh, God, Wills!..."

His body went into shock. All of the blood drained from his face, and his limbs went numb. The sudden drop in blood pressure coupled with his racing pulse soon took its toll on his system, and Xander doubled over and heaved onto the floor.

Tears traced a silent path over Tara's cheeks as she absorbed all of the implications of the transformation that her lover had undergone. There hadn't even been time to say good-bye. No chance to do whatever it was that lovers did when they were parting ways. Tara didn't quite know why, since she wasn't even sure that the vampire in front of her retained anything of the gentle, caring woman who had enriched her life, but she found herself whispering:

"I love you, Willow. I don't know if that means anything to you now, but..."

Willow, who had resumed her human face, nodded back at her. "I remember what it meant. I...can't feel that anymore. Without my soul, it's hard to feel the same way I used to. But some things might come back to me in time...I just need to re-learn."

Although Tara smiled briefly in acknowledgment of Willow's words, she began to cry even harder. The situation was too starkly, horribly real. It wasn't anything they had been prepared to handle.

Xander, who had recovered somewhat and returned to Tara's side, placed a reassuring hand on her arm. His eyes still heavy with grief, he looked at the deceptively-human face of his life-long friend and asked, "So what happens now? I mean...as much as I wish this were another crazy mix-up with an alternate universe...I guess I know that it isn't. The Willow I knew is gone."

"Some of her is still here," Willow countered. "Angel is going to teach me to survive, but he also thinks that we can recover some of who I was before, and use it to help control the demon."

"Not that I have any problem with that...but how is that even an option? I mean, I would have thought you'd just be all...grr..." Xander confessed.

"Willow's demon doesn't exert full control over her. It's a long story," Angel explained, choosing to join the conversation at this point. "But what it comes down to is that she isn't an ordinary vampire. There is a possibility that her human personality can be cultivated to play a dominant role."

"Hmm...dominant....now there's one we forgot to try last night, luv," Spike mused coyly as he strolled back toward the group, fully-attired.

"Oh, God!" Xander breathed, horrified as the blond vampire's earlier taunts returned to him.

"Sorry, Xapper, but He wasn't party to any of it," Spike leered at him, fully enjoying the pale, drained look on the boy's face. Just how a human should look...

"You told him," Willow hissed, her voice thick with betrayal and fury.

"He asked," Spike sneered, mocking her with an echo of her own words.

Xander turned a stricken face toward Willow and fought back stinging tears. He had yet to come to terms with the fact that he wasn't looking at his old friend, but at a demon who wore her body. A demon tempered by the vitality of Willow's own personality, but a demon nonetheless. That alone was something he still had trouble accepting as real, but to think of her with Spike...to think of what Spike must have done to her...No! How could Angel have let that happen, if he truly believed that the old Willow was still there? That Willow had been sweet, compassionate...too good to be sacrificed to the twisted impulses of that monster!

His sense of betrayal darkened his voice as he shifted his gaze to Angel and demanded bitterly, "How could you let him...*use* her?! Is *that* why you told Giles to send him out here?!"

"No!" Angel protested violently as the youth's accusation burned him like the sacred host. Before he could tell Xander how deeply he regretted his inability to shield Willow from his sadistic childe, however, Willow herself spoke up.

"Xander, it was my decision."

A minute elapsed before Xander could bring himself to respond to Willow's admission. When at last the painful knot in his throat had subsided enough to allow words to slip through, he could only ask:

"Why?"

"It was a bargain. I know it's hard for you to understand, but I weighed my options and decided that I wanted certain advantages that I stood to gain in return."

"Tsk, tsk, don't be so bashful, luv," Spike chided her, "It was my irresistible charm...or, maybe that powerful blood that a minion like you can't help but crave."

"Fuck you, Spike!" Willow growled at him in warning, her patience wearing thin.

"Is that an offer? Very well, I accept," he insinuated with a gleefully wicked smirk, relishing the response to his pointed provocation. It gave him tremendous satisfaction to sense how close the redhead was to snapping, and to see the boy nearly in tears at the horrible visions his imagination summoned of his friend, so innocent in life, subjected to the dark passions of a demon like Spike.

"Tread carefully, Spike..." Angel hissed at him with unrestrained menace. He had been worried that the deal Spike had coerced Willow into accepting would be but the beginning of his childe's campaign to torment her, and now his suspicions seemed more than confirmed. However, before Angel could provide Spike with a detailed account of the torture he should expect to receive after their guests had departed, Willow asserted herself.

"No, Angel, let me handle this," she insisted, "I think someone needs a lesson in respect."

The blond vampire was taken aback, and arched an eyebrow warily at the very pissed-off minion who would presume to teach *him* a lesson.

"Spike, you are a total rat," Willow smiled at him wickedly as she continued with the determination of one lecturing a misbehaving child, "And I've had about enough. I let you push me around last night because I wanted, and still want, your help in adjusting to my new status. Our agreement was for one night, but you still seem to think you can walk all over me. It's time for you to learn who you're dealing with. I may be a minion, but I am *not* your punching bag. So, you'd better learn quickly -- act too much like a rat, and you might find it hard to break the habit."

With a small flourish, Willow cast her spell and turned the dumbfounded, peroxide blond vampire into a bleached-white rodent.

Angel, Tara, and Xander all dropped their jaws simultaneously.

Spike, the rat, huddled on the floor, sniffing the air in confusion. Then he suddenly scurried over and bit Willow on the toe. She hissed and jerked him up by the tail, dangling him from her fingers several feet above the floor.

"How do *you* like being yanked off your feet like a rag doll by something bigger and stronger than you, you big bully?" she cooed at him sweetly.

Angel's laughter rang out through the entire lobby, and he beamed with pride at Willow's creative solution to her Spike problem. His temper had been waning thin with each opportunity Spike had taken to provoke or harass Willow. He knew that Spike would continue to badger her relentlessly, even if Angel had beaten him within an inch of his unlife, and that nothing he might do or say would cause the blond vampire to ease up. Angel understood Spike all too well. His childe treated weakness with contempt, and only bestowed his respect upon those who had passed through hell to earn it. In this regard, Spike probably presented Willow with her best example of the attitudes she would have to be prepared to face among her kind. As a fledgling vampire, Willow was no match for him, and Angel had no doubt that Spike would have rubbed her nose in it at every turn.

But apparently, as a witch, she was more than his match.

Angel continued to grin broadly at the elegant manner in which Willow had drawn the line in the sand. And although he fully expected Spike to sulk for a while, the elder vampire had no further concerns about his treatment of Willow, or about her ability to hold her own.

Willow set Spike back down on his leather duster, which had pooled instantly on the floor at his metamorphosis, and cautioned him sternly, "If you bite me again, I'll put you in a cage and drop you off at UCLA's Biology Department to see how you deal with the Freshman 101 lab on dissection."

Spike demonstrated a considerable amount of perspicacity for a rat and stayed put.

"You--you've been practicing," Tara stammered, still so numb from the multitude of revelations she'd been inundated with that she could do little more than note the obvious.

Casually, as if she hadn't just performed a spell formidable enough to reduce a Master vampire to a small, fuzzy creature, Willow nodded and explained, "After the...uh, Glory incident, I figured I needed more control. I've been working on it. But I think the demon actually helps -- I can almost *feel* the magic working through me."

At the mention of her demon nature, Xander and Tara winced awkwardly.

"Sorry," Willow apologized, "In some ways, it already feels natural."

"This is it, then..." Xander breathed, acknowledging her condition with dreadful finality. "You really won't be coming back."

"Not just yet," Willow affirmed, "But maybe someday."

"Can we...stay in touch?" Tara asked hesitantly, "I mean...could you let us know how you're doing...maybe call or e-mail...?"

"Yeah," Willow smiled at the shyness in her former lover's voice, "I'd like that."

It became clear to all of them that it would be best for Xander and Tara to return to Sunnydale. After a brief discussion of how they should break the news to Giles, Buffy, and Willow's parents, in which it was agreed that Buffy shouldn't come to see Willow herself until the young vampire could be more sure of her self-control, the two humans managed, albeit tentatively, to hug their altered friend good-bye.

In that simple, bittersweet gesture were mingled both acceptance and loss.

 

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