Feeding HabitsBy Medea
Chapter One"Come on, luv. Black lace teddy, thigh-high leather boots...it's perfect!" Spike insisted.
"Not on your unlife, Spike," Willow retorted, "I'm not going to go out of my way to look like evil vamp chick, no matter how much you want to stick it to Buffy. She hasn't seen me since...the change... and I'm nervous enough about this as it is!"
"Nervous?!" Spike huffed, throwing his hands up dramatically and speaking to the air as though they had an audience. "She survives a round in the Pit that, at current counts, reduced eight Masters, twenty-two of their childer, and twenty-four minions to ashes! And yet one lousy little Slayer has her knickers twisted in bloody knots!"
"You can catalogue my astounding feats all you want," Willow cooed at him indulgently, "But you still won't get me into that outfit."
The blond vampire frowned and petulantly folded his arms across his chest. He looked for all the world as though someone had just asked him to sing 'Ave Maria' for the Pope. Willow took pity on him.
"Not for this particular occasion, at least," she teased.
He tried to sulk. Really, he did. Yet, as Willow had anticipated, her coy insinuation struck the target and elicited a grudging smirk from him. Abruptly, he turned to leave.
"Spike, wait!" Willow protested, "I thought you wanted to be here when Buffy got here."
"Back later," he assured her with a sinful gleam in his eyes, "Got some shopping to do."
<Great,> Willow thought ruefully, <I've just created a *worse* monster out of an already-pretty-bad monster...>
Willow pulled on her usual outfit of choice: sweatpants and the 'Save the Whales' tee shirt she had purchased one evening as a private joke for Angel's benefit. She decided that it was suitably non-threatening. She then began to pace back and forth in their suite, still unsure that she was ready for this.
Tonight, Buffy arrived.
For the first time since Willow had been turned nearly eight months earlier, they would see each other face-to-face.
She spent the next half hour dwelling on every possible thing that could go wrong.
Ironically, Willow found that she was profoundly grateful that her heart was dead already. She doubted that she would have been able to survive the heart attack that this encounter was likely to provoke. And yet it was long overdue.
After a few weeks of embarrassed silence, Willow and Tara had begun exchanging e-mail on a weekly basis. When Willow had described the challenge of the Pit to her, her former girlfriend had, as usual, conveyed the news to the rest of the Sunnydale crew. She informed Willow shortly thereafter that Buffy was ready to roll into L.A. like a tidal wave and kick Angel's and Spike's asses for letting her get mixed up in something so dangerous.
The redheaded minion smiled slightly at the thought of her old friend being so fiercely protective of her, but she knew that it really was no laughing matter. When Buffy realized that Willow was in little need of protection any longer, it would only highlight the fact that she was now one of the very creatures that Buffy had been chosen to destroy. Buffy might be in for a shock when she saw for herself what Willow had become.
For her part, Willow struggled with a number of concerns she had about seeing Buffy for the first time since her human life had come to its abrupt end. Foremost was the chilling possibility that all of Angel's efforts to help her recapture her human personality were in vain, and that one moment with the Slayer would reveal to them all what she truly was: a demon, no more, no less. What if any remnants of friendship for Buffy were swept away by the instinct to attack and kill the Slayer? Willow wished that Angel had been able to tell her something more helpful than just, "The response to the Slayer is different for each vampire".
As she thought about her mentor, Willow acknowledged the other, secret reason for her discomfort. She dreaded the idea of seeing Angel with Buffy and whatever jealousy that might summon up. Willow knew that Angel had never truly stopped loving Buffy even though they had agreed to move on.
Safely closeting away that part of himself that was capable of loving passionately and eternally, Angel remained unaware of the same emotions stirring in his beautiful protegée.
Emotions directed at him.
"Can I heat you a mug while you're waiting?"
Willow spun around to stare almost guiltily at the subject of her turbulent thoughts as he stood smiling reassuringly in the doorway to their suite. Mistakenly assuming that the prospect of encountering the Slayer had put Willow in a mood, Angel approached her and attempted to comfort her. Resting his hands on her shoulders, he promised, "Willow, you'll do fine. I'll be there with you the entire time."
Somewhat awkwardly she smiled back at him and admitted, "You're probably right. I guess this just feels like the final test...Hey, you know, I think a little blood would be good before she shows up. Probably not smart to talk to a Slayer on an empty stomach..."
She ducked past him and began heading toward the refrigerator when an odd sensation overcame her. At first it was a mild edginess, but she halted in her steps because it wasn't just any kind of anxiety. This seemed to emanate from outside her. When Willow tried to feel where it was coming from, that was when she noticed something even stranger.
The more she concentrated on the source of this odd feeling, the more she felt she was somewhere else. Willow could almost feel her feet walking, knowing where each one would land next. Except that they weren't her feet!
"Angel," Willow reached out to him shakily, "Something's wrong...I feel..."
The dark-haired vampire steadied her. "Easy, Willow...It's okay. You'll get used to it. The first time you sense a Slayer can be disorienting. She's up in the lobby by now. Come on, we should go meet her."
"Whoa..." Willow remarked, still wobbling somewhat, "Disorienting is an understatement."
The two vampires ventured out to the lobby where they found Buffy glancing around uncertainly, looking for them. Her eyes froze when she saw Willow approaching with Angel, as there had been nothing to prepare her for associating her built-in vamp warning signals with one of the best friends she had ever known. Trying to shake off the major wiggins that the whole situation gave her, Buffy greeted them both softly.
"Hi Angel...Willow..."
"It's good to see you, Buffy," Angel answered sincerely, although he experienced the familiar pang of regret for what-might-have-been. He turned to Willow, encouraged that she hadn't immediately hurled herself at the Slayer, and asked, "Willow...how are you doing so far?"
"Wow!" was the only reply he received.
Willow stood entranced before Buffy, whose forehead was now wrinkled in confusion. She tilted her head to the side and stared at Willow. Simultaneously, almost anticipating the action, Willow also tilted her head. Perplexed, Buffy glanced over her shoulder to see if there was something that had attracted Willow's attention. Once again, Willow mirrored her action, wide-eyed and grinning maniacally.
"Okay...this is worse than strange...this is downright Hellmouthy..." Buffy muttered warily as she took a step back.
Even before the words were out of her mouth, Willow followed her with one step forward.
"Hey! Cut it out!" Buffy snapped, increasingly alarmed.
The Slayer brought her right arm up defensively, but found Willow's left hand already waiting there for it. Instinctively, Buffy tugged away and attempted to fend Willow off with her left arm, yet the redheaded vampire seemed to know where her jab would go before Buffy even completed it. Soon, they were exchanging a flurry of swipes and jabs, but not necessarily violent ones. Indeed, to Angel Willow looked like a kitten batting at a string that dangled in front of her. Oddly amusing as it was, he had to step in.
"Willow...Willow! Stop this," Angel insisted as he reached over and pulled her back from Buffy, who by now was majorly freaked.
"O-o-okay," she agreed reluctantly, "I will if she will."
"What was that all about?" Buffy demanded, visibly shaken.
"Why don't we all sit down?" Angel suggested, "See, Willow, Buffy isn't doing anything, she's just here to talk to you."
Angel drew Willow down on one of the lounges beside him and gestured for Buffy to have a seat across from them, hoping to restore calm. However, Willow was still fixated on the Slayer.
"She *hasn't* stopped, Angel," Willow countered, "She's still in my head."
"I'm what?!" Buffy blurted out, still stupefied. This wasn't at all what she had expected her first encounter with a vamped-out Willow would be like.
"Willow, what do you mean?" Angel asked her patiently.
"I can feel her in my head. When she moves, I feel like I'm moving with her. Like now...she's about to scoot away on that lounge," Willow observed.
Buffy, who had indeed been poised to inch slightly further away from the fledgling who bore her friend's face, froze in shock.
Angel relaxed, understanding at last. "Willow, you're going to have to get used to that," he counseled, "That's your particular response to the Slayer. I told you it was different for every vampire. Apparently, your proximity warning makes you hyper-sensitive to the Slayer's position."
"Oh," Willow nodded, furrowing her brow, "It feels...weird..."
"No kidding!" Buffy muttered fervently.
For the first time since they had encountered each other that evening, Willow looked Buffy directly in the eye and spoke to her coherently.
"Sorry about the, um, eccentric behavior, Buffy."
Buffy eased back into her seat slightly and said quietly, "It's okay."
The three of them sat quietly for a few moments and cast furtive, awkward glances from one to the other. It was difficult to know exactly where to begin, especially since Buffy had been privy to the regular updates that Willow had been sending Tara.
Taking he lead as usual, Buffy ventured a polite conversation-opener:
"So...how are things?"
"Good," Willow offered brightly, "A lot different than life in Sunnydale, but Angel keeps me busy. We train, sometimes I do research on the computer, and I've even gone with Angel on one of his demon-busting missions."
"Is that a smart idea?" Buffy asked, concerned, "I mean, from what I understand, when you were...*vamped*," she bit out the word painfully, "you wound up with less than the usual strength."
"Yeah," Willow nodded, "But the training has helped, and so has Angel's blood."
Buffy looked somewhat uncomfortably at her ex-lover. The role that Angel played in fortifying Willow through his blood had by now been explained to everyone, and vague allusions had been made to some of the more intimate consequences. Angel glanced back at her and then quickly lowered his gaze, knowing where her thoughts had turned.
"Not to mention the incredibly potent blood of one of the baddest vamps in town!" Spike declared brashly as he strolled back into the lobby with a discreet shopping bag dangling from his right hand.
"Spike..." Buffy acknowledged his presence with disdain, "You mean to tell me that Dracula is back and has been feeding Willow?"
"Still fixated on the old bugger's blood, are you, Slayer?" Spike taunted her vindictively, "Find it hard to think of much else after your own, forbidden taste?"
"No, actually, I just find it hard to believe that Willow could stomach yours," Buffy fired right back.
"I have quite a lot to offer that Willow enjoys," Spike purred with a sly glance at the young, redheaded vampire. Before Buffy could offer yet another retort, he sat down next to Willow, held up the shopping bag and said, "I couldn't find exactly what I was looking for on such short notice, but I did find a few tasty bits. Do you prefer black or plum?"
With that, he pulled two lace merrywidows out of the bag, one in black and one in plum, and displayed them both against Willow.
"Hmm...well, the black is certainly more dramatic, but the plum brings out the green in your eyes," Spike appraised, fully enjoying the ire that he could sense rising in both Buffy and his sire.
"Spike, not now," Willow rebuked him, attempting to sound stern but unable to keep a slight giggle from sneaking out. Could she help it if she now found human prudishness amusing? A quick glance at the blush rising to Buffy's cheeks was nearly Willow's undoing, and she promptly looked away and bit into her own lip.
"Very well. Later, then," the blond vampire conceded with mock graciousness, before turning back to Buffy and prompting her impatiently, "Get on with the reunion, already. Red and I have plans."
"Spike, maybe you should leave," Angel suggested firmly.
"Not bloody likely, mate!" Spike protested, "I'm only sorry I missed the initial fireworks. So, did she go for the Slayer's throat or her heart?"
"Neither," Buffy informed him coolly, although she frowned slightly as their first encounter replayed in her mind. "Apart from some initial weirdness, Willow and I have been just fine. I guess the good news is that she can rise above being a killer like you."
It was like watching a baby carriage roll inexorably over the edge of a flight of stairs, hover momentarily and then begin its terrifying descent. Even as Buffy's words hung in the air, Angel and Willow heard the trumpets of the Apocalypse and opened their mouths to say *anything* to prevent what they both knew was coming next. Their efforts were doomed from the start.
Despite the fierce squeeze that Willow gave his hand, literally drawing blood, Spike gloated, "I wouldn't worry about that. Early days yet. Red's developing her own, personal flair for the kill."
Oh shit.
Buffy stared back at him in shock.
Willow froze.
Angel fumed and contemplated creative ways to remove Spike's tongue from his mouth, permanently.
"What did you say?" Buffy demanded in a small, strained voice. Her eyes were glassy, as though she wasn't really registering anything in front of her.
Before Spike could do any further damage, Angel growled at him, "You. Out of here. Now. I'll decide whether to stake you or just rip your head off later."
"Something I said?" Spike asked innocently. However, when Angel dropped into gameface and gave him a no-holds-barred snarl of rage, the blond vampire opted to cut his losses and exit the lobby.
That was confirmation enough for Buffy, who glared at Angel and Willow in utter betrayal. "So, it's true. Willow kills. The whole story about recovering some fragment of her humanity, using it to control the demon...that was just a lie, right?"
"Buffy, I can explain--" Angel began, but Buffy interrupted him.
"Explain why you lied?!" she raged, the pitch of her voice steadily climbing. "What was the point of this whole charade? And why would you want to let this *destroy* Willow's memory?! She would *never* have wanted to be responsible for anyone's death. This goes against everything Willow believed in, everything that made her the... special...beautiful...person she was..."
Like a flash rainstorm in July, Buffy's tirade spent itself with sudden fury and then faded into heartbroken sobs and gasped words.
As Buffy wept openly, Willow admitted softly, "I know."
Buffy wiped her eyes and sniffled, "What?"
"I know that the person I used to be would hate what I do. I feel it after every kill," Willow elaborated calmly.
"Oh, so you're saying you feel a twinge of remorse?" Buffy bit out with angry sarcasm, "I'm sure your victims appreciate that."
"It's the best I can do right now," Willow pressed on, "You're right, I'm not the same person you used to know. The jury's still out on what I am. The killing is part of me, for now. But Angel thinks I might be able to survive without it someday."
Uncomfortably, Buffy glanced briefly at Angel but said nothing. After a few moments of silence, she dropped her face into both hands, propped on her knees, and did little more than breathe in and out.
From her human memories of the Slayer, Willow guessed that Buffy could use a good cry.
And she wasn't likely to do it in Willow's presence. Resolved, the young vampire stood and murmured to her mentor, "I think I'm going to go check on Spike."
Angel looked up at her gratefully, knowing that Buffy just couldn't bring herself to deal with everything while Willow was there. The redhead squeezed his hand and prompted, "So, can I tell him you won't pull an Alexei if he behaves?"
The elder vampire scowled, still furious with his tactless childe for toying with Buffy at Willow's expense, but as always found himself weakening under the gentle gaze of his protege.
"Only for your sake," Angel conceded grudgingly, but with a smile. He squeezed her hand once more before she pulled away and left him alone with Buffy.
He had seen the fierce warrior. The lover whose passion equaled his own. The ally, and the enemy. He had held her in his arms in one, terrible yet precious moment when she had screamed out the agony and grief over her mother's death as she had been unwilling to do with anyone else. In that moment, he had seen her at her most vulnerable.
But he had never seen her so defeated. Not even when he'd tried to kill her.
Angel knelt before her and placed comforting hands on her shoulders, running his palms soothingly up and down her upper arms. Leaning close, he whispered desperately:
"I'm sorry."
After several seconds, Buffy released a shuddering sigh and murmured, "I never asked for this."
Confused, Angel said nothing and merely continued to massage her arms in slow circles with his thumbs, waiting for her to continue. Eventually, she raised her head up from her hands and spoke.
"I didn't volunteer to be the Slayer. I was stuck with it. I lost any chance at a normal life...and I can't even spare the people I care about the most from the nightmares I'm supposed to fight. I can't even protect my friends..."
Angel caught the stray tear that slid down her cheek and brushed it away with his thumb, sharing with her a sympathy that only he, who had lost friends of his own in the course of his appointed mission, could. The Powers exacted a high price from their champions, without bothering to provide someone who could understand the pain.
Except another champion.
"Buffy, you couldn't have known what would happen." Angel insisted, softly pleading with her to forgive herself, "The human Willow wouldn't want you to blame yourself for this. And the Willow we have now certainly doesn't. They at least have that in common."
Buffy's mouth twisted into a grimace of a smile, as her tears renewed their flow. "You know this Willow better than I do, Angel. I can't seem to get past the killing part....How could you want that for her?"
"I know this isn't going to be easy for you to accept, but it's part of helping Willow reach the point where she can survive on her own," Angel explained, "Eventually, she'll be able to get by without killing, and I hope that she'll want to. For the moment, though, living blood is what she needs."
For several minutes, Buffy absorbed Angel's words. The Slayer in her refused to sacrifice human life to nurture a fledgling vampire, no matter who that vampire might have been in life. But the woman who cherished memories of a bright, warm, gentle friend desperately wanted to believe him, to cling to the idea that someday Willow could be restored almost to her former self. The inner battle left Buffy drained and defeated. Finally, she said:
"I'll have to trust you on the finer points of vampire physiology. I *want* to believe you, Angel. I trust your motives...even if I'm not so sure about your judgment right now. But I can't...I can't stand by indefinitely. I have a duty to uphold. If it were *anyone* but Willow, we wouldn't even be having this conversation. I'd be out there with a stake in my hand and a pile of ashes at my feet. Actually, make that *two* piles, counting Spike..."
"Well, you might not get any argument from me on that last point," Angel conceded ruefully, "But you shouldn't just take my word on Willow. When you're ready, I think you two should try to talk again. She might be able to give you the hope you're looking for."
Buffy nodded hesitantly and managed a weak smile. "If there was anyone who could find the positive in a hopeless situation, it always *was* Willow."
*****
Spike leaned up against the hood of his DeSoto and smoked a cigarette, savoring the sweet taste of triumph at having rendered foul and impure one of the Slayer's most cherished memories. Cor, how the mighty had fallen! Served her bloody well right for putting him through a year of humiliation.
He sensed Willow's arrival behind him and without turning he remarked, "So, are they fighting over who gets to stake me?"
"Don't be silly," Willow deadpanned as she leaned against the car beside him, "They sent me to do the job. Any last requests?"
"Well, yes, but they involve you shedding those pants and hopping up on the hood of the car," Spike leered.
"Seriously, you really messed things up for me in there," Willow chided him, "It was hard enough for both of us to adjust to the fact that *technically* we're mortal enemies now. And you just had to do it--"
"The Slayer would've found out about your feeding habits sooner or later," Spike broke in defensively.
"--you had to go and play dress-up with the lingerie," Willow finished demurely, flashing him a 'gotcha' smile.
Spike smirked, dropped his cigarette on the asphalt, and crushed it beneath his foot. "Unlike *some* of us, I have no desire to make nice with the Slayer."
"Well, do you think you can *fake* nice, for my sake, at least for the moment?" Willow asked.
"That depends on the incentive, luv," Spike leaned in close and whispered in her ear, "Care to make me an offer?"
"How about Angel *not* turning you into Alexei 2: The Sequel?" Willow whispered back.
"Bloody hell. That bad, eh?" Spike grimaced as he pulled back.
"Spike, you Wicked Terror, have you ever been known to do anything just a *little* bad?" Willow teased him.
"Guess I'm just talented that way," he conceded with a grin. "So, how much longer should we give them? Think the Slayer has a stake in her hand as we speak, or are she and the Poof too busy weeping in each other's arms over lost friends, lost innocence and the epic tragedy of a love that can never be?"
The blond vampire noticed the brief flicker of pain in Willow's eyes at his reference to his sire's tempestuous relationship with Buffy. <Oh sod,> he thought, <Got to cure her of that...>
"No...actually, I think Buffy has calmed down," Willow responded to his question, "She's been crying pretty hard, but now she's stopped."
Spike gaped at her, dumbfounded. He hadn't quite expected that answer.
"What?" he finally found his voice, although he still reeled from the implications of Willow's off-handed reply. "Willow, did you just say what I think you said?"
"You mean about Buffy crying? Well, yes. So?" she squinted at him, perplexed.
"So...you can read her mind?" Spike anxiously awaited her confirmation.
"No, nothing like that," Willow explained, "Angel says it's just my particular response to the Slayer. I can sense her motions, how she's moving, what her body is doing. It's a little disorienting, because sometimes it almost feels like I'm actually in her body, but also in my own at the same time."
"Satan's beard, Willow!!" he exclaimed almost gleefully, "Do you realize what this means? You're every Slayer's worst nightmare. They'd have no defense against you. You can sense their movements before they even have a chance to strike. Just think of the potential!"
"Not now, Spike," Willow rolled her eyes at his one-track mind.
"Well, of course you'd need a few more years to build your strength up, but once--" he reasoned, before she cut him off.
"Not while it's Buffy," Willow clarified, "And speaking of Buffy, let's go give conversation another try. Promise me you'll behave?"
Spike sulked, disappointed at the sheer waste of such a gift. What vamp wouldn't give his left arm for the ability to anticipate the Slayer's moves? That settled it. He simply had to become much more of a bad influence on her. She'd been around the Poof too long.
With a seductive grin he leaned over and whispered in her ear, "Promise me *you'll* misbehave later?"
Amber flecks danced in Willow's eyes as she purred in reply, "Hmmm...well, I might need a little help with that."
"Isn't that what my sire dragged me away from Sunnyhell for in the first place, luv? Always here to help," Spike growled, then nipped at her earlobe roguishly and allowed her to steer him back toward the Hyperion's grand entryway.
As they made their way through the doors, they were greeted by the sight of Angel on his knees before a seated Buffy, holding her close in a tender embrace. Spike felt Willow falter in her stride and he moaned inwardly for her.
<Hell...she can feel that...>
Spike did the one thing he could think of to distract her. Without hesitation he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her body flush against his as they continued toward the Slayer and his sire. She squeezed his side with the hand that rested on his hip, a sign that she recognized what he was trying to do for her and appreciated it.
Angel and Buffy parted somewhat reluctantly and rose to their feet as the other two vampires approached them. Buffy scowled sullenly at Spike before her gaze settled uncomfortably on Willow. If anyone had told her a year earlier that her friend would soon be joined at the hip with one of the most vicious, treacherous vampires ever to be spawned, Buffy would have considered the person a candidate for the mental ward.
Yet here they were...
"It's too early for me to be here," Buffy declared, struggling to keep her heartache at bay. It was going to take all of her strength to walk away. "Neither of us is ready yet."
"You don't even want to talk?" Willow pressed, although the resolve showed plainly in Buffy's eyes.
The Slayer shook her head sadly. "We...don't have enough common ground yet. What common ground we do share should make us enemies. You kill humans. I kill vampires. The only reason we're not enemies is...." Buffy took a deep, shuddering breath before she continued, "...is because I had a wonderful friend who was always there for me, and I never had the chance to tell her how much she meant, how much better my life was with her in it. I'm hoping I'll get that chance, someday. But I can't tell her right now. Not under the circumstances. There are some things a Slayer can't overlook, not even in the name of friendship."
Willow bit her bottom lip uncomfortably. She could feel Spike tense beside her, and knew that he was straining against the urge to tell her just to forget about everyone from her old life and embrace her vampire existence in all its bloody splendor. But as much as the demon in her rebelled at being judged for doing what it was in her nature to do, the faint remnant of her humanity which they had been nurturing all these months was touched by Buffy's words. How could she not be, when those words expressed everything that she remembered the old Willow wanting to tell Buffy?
"So...you're willing to try again later?" Willow asked stoically, but with a slight glimmer of hope.
"That depends on how much the killing is a part of you," Buffy stated bluntly.
Angel stepped in, feeling the need to mediate. "Willow, Buffy is willing to believe that your need to kill while feeding is temporary, even though in principle she can't accept it. I've told her that I think you'll eventually be able to survive without killing."
"And if I can't?" Willow prompted, wanting everything out in the open.
"I won't come looking for you right away," Buffy admitted grimly, her jaw tightening as she considered the painful possibilities, "But if you ever decided to move your hunting grounds to Sunnydale, I'd treat you like any other vamp."
Willow nodded soberly. She understood.
"What about Angel?" the young vampire asked. When Buffy wrinkled her brow in confusion, Willow clarified, "You won't come after him for helping me, will you?"
Buffy relaxed, oddly encouraged by Willow's ability to feel concern for Angel's welfare. "No," she assured Willow, briefly glaring in Spike's direction, "I don't consider *him* to be part of the problem."
Spike scowled back at the Slayer but held his tongue as he felt a warning squeeze from Willow on his hip.
"Willow, don't worry about me. We'll take this at whatever pace you can handle," Angel insisted.
"I think I could start trying now," Willow ventured.
The blond vampire at her side went absolutely rigid with shock. Any restraint he had shown out of consideration for Willow or fear of retribution from his sire evaporated as he hissed, "You're not bloody serious?!"
"Spike--" Willow began, but he cut her off.
"Don't bother, little minion!" Spike spat out coldly. He pulled away from her, tense with rage at how easily the Slayer had ruined his unlife yet again, and fuming at the sway that Angel had over Willow. She was willing to throw away *everything* for him. With every intention of venting his frustrations on the local human population, he stalked toward the exit.
"Childe!" Angel barked authoritatively, halting Spike in his tracks, "You agreed to help Willow. Your obligation doesn't end just because she cares what Buffy thinks about her actions and is willing to change."
<Oh, this is too rich! The Poof is completely blind,> Spike fumed silently to himself.
"It wasn't the Slayer's opinion that concerned her," the younger vampire informed his sire tersely, staring at him pointedly for an extended moment before turning his back on the others once again and storming out of the lobby.
An awkward silence fell over them like a shroud, until Buffy observed dryly, "Well, I was going to leave anyway. If I go now, I might just catch Spike in time to stake him."
Willow nibbled on her lower lip, still smarting from the blond vampire's violent rejection of her intention to forego killing. It didn't surprise her, since she had realized several weeks ago that Spike was engaged in a subtle but persistent tug-of-war with his sire over her. She was quite aware that for every encouragement Angel offered her in her efforts to recover fragments of her old, human personality, Spike had been whispering temptations to her darker side. And that, in the end, was what set her at ease about his dramatic exit. He wouldn't give up this easily. After he had killed a few people, he'd think things over and return with a new game plan.
Now *there* was a cause for concern, though. Willow didn't relish the idea of trying to work around a determined Spike. But, as with everything in her new existence, she didn't really have much of a choice. Trying to hold her own when the deck was stacked against her had become part of her normal routine.
And Spike could be downright delicious when he was determined...
"I wouldn't worry about Spike," Willow said at last, "He'll come around, eventually."
"Wow. I guess you do have something in common," Buffy muttered ironically, glancing at Willow with a hesitant grin.
"Spike and I?" Willow countered, not quite following her.
"No, you and the old Willow," Buffy's grin widened, "She used to take optimism to the extreme, too."
The redheaded vampire giggled and flashed a genuine smile that nearly made Buffy believe that she was looking at her old, human friend.
"I don't know if I'd say it's optimism," Willow explained, humor still lightening her voice. "Let's just say I know Spike better than I used to."
The illusion shattered, Buffy's smile faltered and she returned to her declared intention to leave. "I really should go," she stated quietly.
"Okay," Willow nodded, as she reluctantly conceded that this frustrating, catastrophic encounter had probably gone about as well as they could have hoped. "I'll stay in touch and let you know how I'm doing with my...uh...new diet..."
"Thanks," Buffy replied, trying not to wince at the mention of Willow's need for blood.
When Buffy made no immediate move to head for the door, Willow noted the tension in Angel's stance, and realized that he was waiting for the chance to say his own good-byes but was unwilling to dismiss her. Although it elicited a sharp twinge of jealousy, Willow knew that he needed this. Discreetly, she began to withdraw from the two of them, murmuring, "I think I'll go out and look for Spike... again...just to make sure he hasn't gotten into *too* much trouble."
As she turned to go, Willow caught a flicker of deep gratitude in Angel's eyes. The thought that she had made him happy took the edge off the envy she felt toward Buffy, but only for a moment. As she passed through the main entrance to the Hyperion, she rued her ability to sense the Slayer's movements when she felt the phantom traces of the yearning, bittersweet kiss that Angel and Buffy were sharing. Willow quickened her pace, wanting to distance herself from the overpowering sensations.
Even more, though, she wanted to flee the knowledge that such kisses existed, and that Angel had never kissed her like that.
*****
When she saw the bloodless corpses of two lovers locked in an eternal embrace on a park bench, Willow knew Spike was expecting her. The artful display was his way of taunting her, reminding her of exactly what she intended to give up. And she also grasped the message in his choice of two lovers rather than a solitary victim: passion, without blood, was empty.
Willow continued past the bodies and walked for several minutes more until she found Spike reclining on the wide, asphalt rim of a fountain in the middle of the park. Blood coated his lips, and small flecks stained his shirt. As she approached, Spike eyed her coolly but said nothing, not even when she sat down near his head and let her fingertips drift through the water that lapped at the fountain's edge.
Knowing that he would never give in first, Willow broke the silence, asking casually, "So, if you're going to storm off in a huff and leave me to Angel, mind if I have your room?"
A full minute elapsed and Spike said nothing. He didn't even so much as twitch an eyebrow to indicate that he'd heard her. Just as Willow was beginning to think that she ought to leave him to sulk for a little while longer, he remarked, "You've gotten much better at lying."
Swinging his legs off the ledge, Spike stood up and strode a few paces away before turning to stare at Willow with a critical eye. A slight trace of contempt shaded his voice as he continued, "The fluffy little human girl used to squirm and moan at the thought of having to tell a lie. Not you. You lie so very well. 'specially when you're lying to yourself."
Willow folded her arms across her chest, matching his gaze with one that dared him to come up with something more impressive. "All right, Spike. Out with it," she prompted him, "You've given your dramatic flourish, the heralds have announced you with trumpet fanfare, so let's get to the main event."
"Fine," he retorted, his stern regard unwavering, "You're a killer. Denial won't alter that. Angel's convinced you that you can subdue your weak demon with daydreams of restoring your human side. You honestly believe that makes you any less a demon? It may be weak now, but every day you survive, it gets that much stronger. Minions who survive beyond the first few decades eventually become as strong as masters, regardless of how they started out. D'you think because you started a little behind the rest of us, the same won't happen to you? When it does, what will all of your martyrdom and self-denial have bought you? You'll kill again, because you won't have a soul to make you give a rat's arse about killing."
"All right, Spike, if it's inevitable that I'm going to end up like any other murderous demon, why are you so upset?" Willow observed dryly, "Why don't you just sit back, point and laugh? Or disappear for fifty years and come back when I'm ready for lessons on torture with railroad spikes?"
"You're forgetting the Poof. Didn't you hear him? My obligation to you doesn't end just because I don't agree with the game plan," the blond vampire spat with distaste.
"No problem. I'll just tell him to let you go. I think you've more than upheld your end of our original bargain, since I've gotten a lot more than one night out of you," Willow dismissed his excuse easily.
Spike scowled at her, his entire body tense and rigid. "You're bloody infuriating, little minion."
"And that," Willow murmured with a sly grin, "is why you want to stay, even though you hate the thought of my not killing."
With two quick strides, Spike invaded her space, his hands resting on the fountain ledge on either side of her as he countered smoothly, "No, my sweet, *this* is why I stay. You play coy, but you *love* infuriating me because deep down, you like being the bad girl. You like being as bad as I'll let you, and the demon in you knows I can teach you how very, very far you can go."
With slow, calculated determination Spike dropped into his game face and pierced his tongue with a fang. Bending even closer to Willow, he traced his tongue enticingly from her jaw line up to the corner of her mouth, leaving a trail of his rich, overpowering blood on her skin.
Willow closed her eyes, trembling with the desire that his blood summoned from her deepest being.
Damn him for not fighting fair.
But who was she kidding? This was Spike, and fair never entered into the picture.
"This isn't the way to resolve an argument, Spike," Willow rasped hungrily, "Just because your blood makes me react this way doesn't mean your position is right and mine is wrong."
"On the contrary," he taunted her, pulling back just out of reach, "This is the only way to resolve this particular argument. You're a vampire, Red. This is your truth. *Blood* is your truth. The only truth for any of us, no matter what sweet-sounding words and promises of humanity you might want to cling to. Words lie; blood doesn't."
Willow's eyes flared amber, but she managed to stay firmly seated on the edge of the fountain. As her fingers gripped tightly at the ledge, she hissed, "I'll get my blood, but I'll do it without killing -- with or without your help."
"Oh, I'll help you," Spike assured her, a wicked gleam in his eye, "On one condition..."
"Another one-night deal, Spike?" Willow laughed viciously, glaring at him with a combination of fury, hunger and lust.
"Rates have gone up, luv. One night won't do it. For each night I teach you to skim, leech or otherwise *subsist* like a stowaway on a ship, you feed from me and *only* me for one week," Spike delivered his terms.
Willow squeezed her eyes shut and craned her neck, desperately trying to resist the lure of his intoxicating signature, even as his blood glistened on her cheek. "You can't honestly expect to hold me to any deal we make under these circumstances."
"I can and I will. Thought you'd learned your lesson when Angel punished you for disobeying him in the Pit. No exceptions for broken promises, even if made under duress," Spike chided her.
Willow thought back to the bleak misery she had endured when, after she had fully recovered from the challenge in the Pit, Angel had refused to offer her his blood for two full weeks, and had forbidden Spike to feed her as well. Although it had been a mild punishment by vampire standards, it had been a reminder that as unique as her situation was, there were still rules of vampire conduct she had to learn to respect. How ironic. Withholding the blood she craved so strongly had been Angel's way of reasserting his control as head of her clan, yet now Spike sought to insinuate his control over her development by offering her his blood in abundance.
He even delivered his proposition in a way designed to prove that she was ruled by the demon, not the fragments of her human persona that remained. With tremendous effort, Willow rose up and began to walk away from him. Each step she took was halting and painful.
As Spike watched her struggle against her craving, his desire mounted. Smugly pleased with the overwhelming response of her body to his blood, Spike felt a delicious rush of power. Yet her shaky determination to resist him was tantalizing. It was the first night, all over again. Perhaps an ultimatum wasn't the right strategy for the moment.
Perhaps he should use more gradual tactics to ensure her eventual submission...
"All right," Spike conceded seductively, "No exclusive arrangement. I won't ask you to give up my sire's blood. Just feed from me one night for each night we go out. Shall we agree on a time limit? Six months?"
Spike's voice had halted Willow in her tracks, and she had wrapped her arms around her waist, hugging herself anxiously as she listened to his revised proposal. Still keeping her back to him, she whispered, "Agreed."
Turning to face him, Willow asked, "So, are you going to make me take a blood oath?"
"Oh, we'll seal this in blood all right," Spike grinned triumphantly as he approached her slowly.
Willow licked her lips in anticipation, catching the faint savor of his blood at the corner of her mouth. She was unable to suppress a moan at the taste and launched herself at his neck when he stood before her, chin lifted in blatant invitation. As she suckled wantonly at his artery, he lifted her up in his arms and carried her over to a nearby patch of lawn. Sinking to the ground with her, Spike prepared to spend the next several hours negotiating the finer details of their contract.
He rather hoped that an onlooker would interrupt their brazenly public act. It would be absolutely perfect to slaughter someone and take his defiant redhead as she lay in a pool of blood.