Dies Irae

By Medea

Chapter Two

Spike's penchant for speed behind the wheel ensured that they made it back to Los Angeles by 1:00 a.m., leaving plenty of time for a night on the town. Willow had long since given up on warning him about the California Highway Patrol. In Spike's philosophy, being a vampire meant never having to worry about speeding tickets.

When Spike finally pulled his DeSoto into a parking spot, Willow recognized where they were and she smiled. They were in the upscale restaurant district where Spike had taken her on their first hunt together. Barely a block away, she spied the outdoor patio bar where she'd made her first kill with Spike.

Turning to Spike, she teased, "Going sentimental on me, Spike?"

"Going *lots* of things on you, luv, but sentimental isn't one of 'em," Spike retorted, arching an eyebrow at her.

"Down, boy..." Willow purred. "So, shall we?"

"Whatever my lady's heart desires," Spike agreed, raising her hand to his lips and placing a soft kiss on her knuckles. Unable to stop, he kissed his way down to her wrist, which he licked and sucked with gentle persistence. Willow closed her eyes and lost herself in the sensation. She let out a gasp of pleasure when she felt his fangs sink into her flesh and his tongue lap at her blood.

"At this rate, we won't get any hunting done..." Willow hissed, her eyes flashing amber with arousal.

Spike chuckled and released her. "D'you know how deliciously responsive you are, little minion?"

"Let's do this quickly. I need to get you home," Willow proposed, wanting nothing more than to return to Spike's room and ravish him.

"Tsk, tsk," her lover chided her. "Patience, Willow. Indulge me."

Willow smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling with a playfulness and innocence that a demon just shouldn't have. Spike crooked his arm and held it out to her. She looped her arm through it and let him guide her toward the patio bar. As they walked, Spike thought of the tantalizing contradictions about Willow that so enthralled him. His initial revulsion had long since been replaced by obsession with her paradoxical blend of characteristics: sweet innocence combined with a killer's grace. She had preserved the traits of humanity that drew vampires to their warm-blooded prey, yet she had gained a demon's fire. Spike found it intoxicating, and for the first time, he struggled with a nagging, secret regret.

If only he had been the one to turn her. To make her his.

They entered the restaurant and sought out a table in a shadowy corner of the patio. The waitress brought them a pitcher of sangria at Spike's request, which he seasoned with his own blood when no one was watching. Not to be outdone, Willow bit into her own wrist and let it bleed into the pitcher as well. When the two vampires took their first sip, the union of their blood was like an aphrodisiac.

A young couple caught their attention, and Spike lightly stroked the back of Willow's hand as they watched the human lovers. From the few snippets of conversation that Willow paid attention to, she gathered that the couple was celebrating the anniversary of their first date. She caught the interested gleam in Spike's eye, and knew that their plans for the evening had just taken shape. As they continued eavesdropping, Spike casually wrapped an arm around Willow and slipped his hand into the short sleeve of her top. Insinuating his fingers beneath the edge of her bra, he slid his palm over the plump swell of her breast and fondled her, gently rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger as they studied their prey.

When the man paid the bill and escorted his girlfriend toward the door, Willow and Spike followed. As the human pair strolled to an elegant hotel a few blocks away, their deadly shadows moved with them. Crossing through a lobby even more palatial and lavish than the Hyperion's, the man and woman entered an elevator and pushed the button for the twelfth floor. The man grew slightly wary when Willow and Spike stepped in, having noticed them at the patio bar. He shrugged it off as conceivable that other guests of the hotel would seek out the same nearby restaurant.

But when the vampires stepped off at the same floor as the human couple, Willow and Spike savored the hint of fear that the man gave off.

When the man unlocked the door to a suite and ushered his girlfriend inside, Spike struck. Hurling the man to the floor, Spike reached for the girlfriend and knocked her unconscious. Before the man could shout in alarm, Spike clapped a strong hand over his mouth and invited Willow to join him in draining the struggling human. Within minutes, his pale, lifeless body lay beside his girlfriend's on the floor.

Ignoring the humans at their feet, Spike looked around the luxurious suite and whistled. "A bloke could get used to a room like this. Gives me a few ideas about the lair..."

Willow stepped over the man's body and moved through the room, taking in every lavish detail. With the eagerness of a child, she kicked off her shoes to tread barefoot on the velvety-soft Persian rug that overlay the wall-to-wall carpet. She ran her fingertips lightly over the gauzy curtains draped around the king-sized bed. An antique, mahogany bar, meticulously restored, graced the far wall. Willow crossed to investigate, and Spike followed. When they opened it to peruse the collection, the blond vampire let out another low whistle and reverently pulled out a bottle.

"Bloody hell...Domaine Boingnères, 1974 Pur Colombard. Time to break out the snifters, luv," he purred as his eyes remained riveted to the deep amber liquid.

"What is it?" Willow asked, intrigued.

"Armagnac. Very, very good Armagnac, and a far sight better than the stock you'll find in the liquor cabinet of your average hotel room," Spike explained.

Willow grinned. "I never would have pegged you for a connoisseur, Spike. You've always struck me as the pint of ale type."

"No argument there," Spike agreed. "But when you've been around long as I have, you sample what's out there. Pretty boring, otherwise..."

He was about to pour them two glasses when a faint moan rose from the woman, who was regaining consciousness. Pursing his lips, Spike observed, "Looks like we finish the banquet first. Just as well, Armagnac is an after-dinner brandy."

Spike lifted the woman in his arms and carried her to the bed. He set her down, shed his duster, and then reclined comfortably with the woman propped against his chest. Crooking his finger, he fixed Willow with a come-hither stare. Smiling, she joined him. They lay facing each other, separated by the slowly reviving woman. Before she came to her senses, Spike and Willow kissed each other briefly and then dipped their heads to drink from her. Trapping her in a deadly embrace, they caressed each other's arms as they sucked her life away.

When they had finished, Spike shoved the corpse off the bed and pulled Willow flush against him. For the remainder of the evening, they explored each other's bodies with an intimate knowledge based on many nights in each other's arms. As familiar as they were with exactly which touches pleased the most, their lovemaking had yet to lose its freshness.

Again, Spike reveled in Willow's un-demonlike innocence. Even as a vampire, somehow she managed to shag like an eager virgin.

He hoped she'd never stop.

*****

Two nights later, Willow was still glowing from the decadent evening Spike had shown her on her "anniversary". She had gone without a kill for several weeks, and although the familiar twinge of regret had clouded her thoughts afterward, she couldn't deny how good it felt.

She paced in the courtyard, lost in thought.

Contrary to Spike's assessment of his sire, Angel *had* remembered the anniversary of her turning. Although it had been very low-key, what Angel had said had moved her deeply.

"I can't celebrate your death. I *will* celebrate everything you've accomplished this year, and wish you hope for the future. I didn't really know what to get you. If I could, I'd give you your life back -- any other gift seems insignificant. But, I hope you'll like this..."

Willow smiled to herself at the image of Angel offering her a bonsai tree. He had been so adorably awkward, but the symbolism hadn't been lost on her.

"Thank you, Angel...for this, and for all of your work at 'pruning' me this year..." Willow had laughed shakily, touched by his show of affectionate pride.

...which had led to a far more carnal display of affection...

Willow was still smiling over her memories when the telephone in Angel's office rang. It surprised her, since Angel's co-workers had yet to abandon their other location and return to the Hyperion. Calls usually went to the other office. Moving back inside, she crossed the lobby to the front desk and answered.

"Angel Investigations," Willow announced, dispensing with Cordelia's chirpy catch-phrase.

"Willow...it's Tara."

"Tara, hi!" Willow's voice brightened. "What's up?"

"Can you come to Sunnydale? Tonight, if possible?" Tara asked anxiously.

Willow grew concerned. "Sure...it might take me a little while to find Spike, since he's the one with the car. But, yeah, I can be there. What's wrong?"

"It's the Hellmouth."

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