Title: Conditional Response
Author: NyxMne Chaosis
Email: magmyr@umailme.com
Distribution: SFA
Rating: NC-17 (for sexual content)
Setting: Post-Lover's Walk (Season 3)/Pre-Harsh Light of Day (Season 4)
Summary: Sequel to "Willow's Query" of the Query Series. Willow is held hostage by Spike for what seems like an eternity
Disclaimer: Joss owns all.
Authors Note: Events in this story occur during the same timeframe as events from "Oz's Query" to "Xander's Query"

Part One


Willow wanted to close her eyes, but it was as if two long needles pierced her neck with their cold unbendingness. Paralysis prevented her from moving. She stared unblinkingly at the ceiling above her, noting the light colored patches of plaster against the yellow paint. A light fixture hung precariously from a wire, on the verge of spilling a mess of dead flies onto her.

Her limbs ached with a dull throb. Her lungs were constricted by the weight of Spike's cold and heavy chest pressing against hers. It seemed as if that coldness crept into her toes and fingers. The beating of her heart slowed. A darkness stole over her, bringing with it an unwanted sleep.

She tried to fight the tiredness, flittering in and out of that darkness.

All at once, the needles pulled out of her neck. She glimpsed the figure of Spike pulling back, a light flush in his flesh that slowly faded. Free at last, Willow tried to lash out at him, but her arm weighed a ton and hung limply over the side of the kitchen table.

Her eyes closing momentarily, slipping briefly into the darkness, Willow forced her thoughts to the foreground of her mind, and climbed out of the darkness to find herself being lifted. She found herself unwillingly leaning into Spike's chest. Again, she tried to lift her arm and push him away, but she managed only to lift her forearm an inch into the air before it fell back against her chest.

He was carrying her now. Willow worried about what would happen to her next, wondered what diabolical plan Spike meant to enact. Deep down, she suspected her abduction was a means to torment Buffy. Slayer payback was a reoccurring theme among vampires. It wasn?t very imaginative, but their predictability sure saved herself and the gang a lot of research time.

At last, she was gently lowered onto a soft surface. Glimpsing her surroundings through half-closed eyes, black gossamer draped about her and she remembered the canopy bed. Its softness soothed her, coaxing her to succumb to the darkness. She tried to fight it, but her body responded to the bed and not her will.

She closed her eyes, and reluctantly let the darkness push forward into her mind. Letting go of her thoughts, Willow felt herself falling until she landed in the comfort of dreamless sleep.

In darkness, Willow enjoyed the peace of a dark subconscious realm. Though she usually welcomed the unusual imagery of her vivid dream world, she was grateful for the womb-like nature of the place she lingered in. It was a boundless space of darkness. She could swim in it, and somehow it seemed like a safe place... safe because she was the only one there, along with the overpowering aroma of roast chicken.

Roast chicken?

The darkness receded as Willow's nostrils sucked in the additional smell of onion and spices, and her stomach responded. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes. She lay in the canopy bed, the black gossamer before her tied to the post by her head. The room was pitch dark save for the stream of golden light that shone through the open door.

Willow breathed deeply, experiencing the tired, weak, and sore state of her body. The scent of chicken filled her through, and that's when she realized just how ravenous she felt. Carefully, she lifted her arm and saw that she wasn't nearly as weak as she had been earlier, after Spike fed from her.

Anxiously, she felt for her neck and discovered a large patch of gauze taped over the spot where he had tore into her. She considered the ramifications of that bandage. It meant that she had a wound, which in itself meant that she did not have the ability to heal. Therefore, she wasn't a vampire. Spike hadn't turned her... yet.

Sighing with relief, Willow pulled herself upright with great difficulty. Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, she readied herself. She slid off the cool sheets, onto the floor and nearly collapsed under her own weight. Steadying herself against the wall, she pulled herself along until she reached the door.

In the light of the living room, the aroma of roast chicken, onions, spices, and an assortment of subtle scents overwhelmed her. As she pushed herself away from the door frame, she caught sight of Spike sitting in an armchair watching a barrage of images on a small black and white television with an antenna. Oddly, she hadn't recalled seeing it when she first toured the living room.

She moved slowly, trying to decide what to do, but Spike's focus shifted to her. She trembled as his icy stare remained on her. The trembling only made her feel more weak. Taking a step forward depleted Willow's reserve of energy and she collapsed onto the floor.

As she struggled to pull herself up again, her eyes locked on his. She tried to stare him down, but found herself in a futile struggle. He returned her glare with a sneer. She averted her eyes, tried to hold back the tears of frustration that threatened to spring from her eyes.

Just as she was about to pull herself up again, she felt his arms around her. With an effortless grace, Spike cradled her in his arms and carried her to the sofa. As soon as she felt the inviting softness of the cushions, Willow pushed him away. Spike laughed at her.

"Little lamb hungry?" he asked.

She didn't have to answer. Willow suspected her eyes gave away her answer. She could eat a horse, but the chicken would have to do.

A sarcastic smile curled on his lip, Spike withdrew from the living room. After a few moments, he returned with a plate heaping with steaming food. Willow couldn't tear her eyes away from the sight of the roast chicken and the mountain of roasted vegetables that accompanied it.

Eagerly she sat up and accepted the plate. Ferociously digging into the food, she gave no thought to her situation. All she cared about was filling the gnawing hunger in her belly. Yet, the whole time she shoveled the food into her mouth, she was aware of Spike watching her.

"Feeling better, pet?" he asked after she had inhaled the plate of food.

Wiping her mouth, Willow nodded. Already her energy levels were increasing, but she still felt incredibly sleepy.

"Good then," Spike said. "Now, let's have a look." He reached across from where he sat on the couch and began to the remove the bandage on her neck. Willow winced as the tiny hairs on her neck gave way to the surgical tape.

"We don't want this getting infected," he said more to himself then to her. He leaned toward her for a closer examination of the wound, and Willow froze as his fingers gingerly touched the puncture wounds. Spike stopped and stared at her, his gray-blue eyes washing over every inch of her face. "It's not good for the blood."

"What's not good for the blood?" Willow asked nervously, not quite sure she understood his meaning.

"Infection," he replied. "And since I saw to it that you don't have as nearly as much blood as you should, your body won't be able to fight off infection as easily."

"Gee, thanks," Willow said sarcastically, then flinched when he gripped her face in his cold hand. Tilting her head toward him, their eyes locked.

"That's right little lamb," he said in a low voice. "Goad me. It's my most favorite form of foreplay."

Willow shivered as his lips descended on hers. She cringed from the contact of his breathless mouth pressing firmly against hers. She had no strength to push him away, nor could she squirm. At last, when she thought she would die from lack of oxygen, he released his grip on her.

"Was it good for you?" Spike asked smugly.

"Can't say it was," Willow replied, trying to fight back her rising nausea.

Spike smiled. He brushed his finger across her lips. "That's all right, pet. One day it will be."

Willow quickly considered the possible implications of his words. Perhaps he meant to turn her eventually, and if she became evil vampire Willow, she'd probably like just about anything... including his amorous advances.

Terror seized her momentarily. She wanted to run, but there was no where to run to. Even if she could keep herself steady on her feet, she had neither the strength nor the energy to go very far. The dinner now seemed to weigh heavy in her stomach, and sleep pulled at her eyelids.

She stiffened as Spike drew near again. He brushed her hair away from her face.

"Time for you to go back to bed," he said softly, reaching his arms around her.

Willow reacted despite herself. With what energy she could muster, she slapped his arms away, jumped to her feet, and ungracefully collapsed on the floor. Wincing from the pain, she tried to withhold a scream as she felt Spike's icy fingers grip her ankles tightly. Whimpering, she rolled onto her back and watched helplessly as he knelt on the floor and dragged her toward him.

"Not a wise move, lamb," he said solemnly, while parting her legs and leaning forward between them.

Willow cringed. She gasped as he pressed against her. His cold lips brushed her throat, pressing against the tender flesh near her earlobe. Willow shivered and squirmed uncomfortably as Spike brushed his fingertips over her suddenly erect nipples. She cursed the involuntary response of her body, and trembled as Spike morphed into his vampire guise. He touched his demon lips to hers briefly before descending on a tender patch of unmarked flesh upon her neck.

His fangs sunk deeply, slipping into her swiftly. She whimpered at the piercing intrusion. The flickering gray light from the television mesmerized her, as she felt the slow outward flow of her blood and the fingers that touched her nipple now firmly pressed into her breast.

As darkness impressed upon her so much faster than before, she remarked at how less painful Spike's feeding seemed compared to the first time. In darkness, however, there was no pain at all, and she stayed there.




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