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 Two


The next day, the routine went the same. Willow found herself waking up tired, her neck sore in different spots from Spike's feedings. She would be given a plate of food, allowed to digest it, before Spike descended upon her in his vampire guise. She had made it as far as the kitchen again, when he grabbed her about the waist and carried her back to the living room. Pinning her to the couch, he had proceeded to gingerly kiss her about the neck while caressing her breast before he fed.

The following day, he he had cornered her in a closet where he traced every curve and angle of her body with both hands before sinking his teeth into her neck. Uncertain what to make of this routine, Willow found it difficult to think about it for Spike kept her in such a lethargic state that all she wanted to do was sleep.

The next day was yet another variation of this routine, until Willow had lost all track of time, not knowing whether it was day or night or how many days she had passed since her abduction by Spike. He made no mention of Buffy or anyone. It seemed as if no one would rescue her from her captivity.

Silently bemused, Spike snatched a rusted crowbar from an abandoned workbench in the basement of the house. Thrusting it into a crack of a large crate, he pulled downward. With a squeal of nails being torn from wood, he wrenched the lid free and placed it on the floor next to the crate. With the Witch all nicely bandaged and sleeping upstairs, he could leisurely sort through his old junk.

"Gotta love the postal system," Spike said to himself. "Best invention. Can have your things sent to you without leaving your house."

Curiously, he began unfolding some thick tapestries that lay on top of rugs. Leisurely he pulled out the thick forest green fabric adorned with Turkish designs. Underneath them, he found a layer of Oriental throw rugs. Hastily, he grabbed them and threw them on the floor. Underneath, another layer of rugs met his searching eyes.

"Come on, where is it?" he said testily. Losing patience, he hastily began pulling out carpet after carpet, tossing them on the floor behind him. "Dru and your damn rugs!" he shouted, kicking at the crate in a sudden burst of anger. After composing himself, he sat on the edge of the crate.

"It's not here," he said. "Guess I'll have to send for the next one."

Lighting a cigarette, Spike sucked in its smoke.

"No hurry now," he said to himself, as he thought of the Witch lying in his bed upstairs. Her abduction went smoothly, and as long as he kept her reserve of blood low, she would not have the strength to plan a route of escape. Although he had originally thought of torturing her sweet innocent flesh, feeling her squirm beneath his touch fuelled his imagination. Now he preferred to play a different kind of game.

Her fear was an overwhelming bouquet. It stirred him. And in that scent there lingered a hint of arousal... her arousal from his touch. Of course, she would not have been aware of it. That arousal was too slight, but it would grow. Eventually, she would yearn for his touch, eventually.... and if she didn't, he would turn her.

Grinding the burner of his cigarette on the crate, Spike tossed the smoking but onto the floor and stood. Leaning over, he picked up an armful of carpets and headed toward a wooden staircase.

"Guess I'll just dress up the place until she wakes."

Groggily, Willow wiped her face as she stepped into the light of the living room. Tottering slightly, she shuffled her feet in small steps, and suddenly noticed that she no longer felt the cold bare wood floor beneath her. Looking down, she found herself standing on a thick throw rug of oriental design.

"Where'd that come from?" Willow mumbled.

"What's that you said, luv?" Spike said as he sat back in an armchair watching the television.

Willow looked at him briefly and found herself taking in her surroundings. Though the furniture in the living room had not changed, she noted thick long tapestries concealed the boarded up windows. About her and receding into the hallway were an assortment of multi-colored rugs that lent an atmosphere of warmth to the place.

"Where did all this stuff come from?" Willow asked.

"Just found it lying around," Spike replied. It was lot of stuff to be just lying around in a house that was nearly empty except for odd bits of furniture when she first inspected the place, but Willow considered the possibility that she had overlooked a room.

With effort Willow inched her way toward the sofa and discovered that it was now adorned with an elaborately stitched quilt. Slowly, she eased herself into the soft cushions and the unmistakable scent of sandlewood tickled her nostrils with its smoky scent.

"Hungry?" Spike asked her, finally tearing his eyes away from the television.

Willow nodded, wondering what games he would play this time.

Gracefully, Spike stood and attended to her dinner. Willow heard him tinkering in the kitchen and smelt the wonderful aroma of roast beef. It didn't seem to be as strong an aroma this night... if it was night... but then she wondered if the aroma hadn't ever gone away. Perhaps, she had grown accustomed to the smells of this vampire's cooking.

Sitting on the sofa, Willow took in the state of the living room and suddenly became aware of Japanese rice-paper prints hanging on the wall opposite her. She no longer believed Spike's claim that this stuff was just hanging around. First of all, it was just too much stuff to find in a closet, unless it was stored in an attic or a basement. Secondly, the rugs, the tapestries, the prints... all of it looked like it had been imported. Oddly, none of it seemed to go with the furniture in the house, or with each other.

As Spike returned with a heaping plate of beef and vegetables, Willow knew that he had lied to her. Somehow, he had obtained these eclectic trappings from elsewhere, which meant that there had to be a way to get in and out of the house.

Ravenous, Willow forced herself to eat slowly, thinking about how she might be able to find that exit and escape. Somehow she had to find a way to explore the house, but whenever she was awake, Spike was always around, and realized that he must be leaving the house while she was asleep.

"Is the food tasty?" Spike asked, watching her carefully.

Willow nodded.

"Don't like leftovers?"

On the contrary, Willow thought to herself, she loved leftovers. The meal was delicious, and she was oddly surprised that Spike could cook let alone cook so well.

"Just tired," she replied. It was a bit of a lie. She was weak and lacked energy, this was true, but she wasn't nearly as tired as she was claiming. Perhaps if she tricked Spike into believing that she was asleep, he would do whatever he does when she slept, and she could explore the house.

"You should be," Spike said, while eyeing her suspiciously. "I fed from you too soon. I'm surprised you didn't sleep longer."

Feigning a deep yawn, Willow placed her now empty plate on the tiny table beside the sofa. "Sounds like a plan. Really really sleepy. I think I'll go back to bed now," she said nervously. Shakily she stood and made her way back toward the bedroom.

When she reached the doorway, she glanced over her shoulder. Her stomach lurched as she watched Spike stand and follow her. Quickly, she felt her way in the dark room and caught the shadowed outline of the bed. Quickly climbing into the bed, she pulled the soft cotton sheets over her body.

In the doorway, she saw the outline of Spike's body enter.

Her heart racing with a worry she couldn't quite explain, she let out a vocal yawn and remarked. "Wow. So very very tired. Guess I'll sleep now, so you can go and do whatever it is that you do."

To her dismay, Spike sat on the edge of the bed next to her.

"You...you don't have to-to tuck me in," Willow stammered, wondering why he was in the bedroom with her, and then realized that a portion of her dining ritual had not been completed.

"On the contrary," he said, suddenly ripping away the cotton sheets. "Just want to make sure you go to sleep, that's all."

Fear coursed through her body. In her weakness, she trembled. The sudden draft created by the lack of sheets made her shiver. Bolting upright, she tried to maneuver toward the other side of the bed, but was grabbed about the waist and thrown back down on the bed.

Feeling the weight of Spike's body descending upon her, she pushed fitfully at his chest and wondered why she fought so frantically. She knew she would lose. As both of his hands clamped down her wrists, pinning her arms to the bed, unthinkingly she arched her back, trying to throw him off her.

"You're just making this all the more pleasurable for me," Spike whispered in her ear.

Willow stopped struggling when she felt Spike's cool chest press deeper into hers, felt his hardness press against her pelvis. His lips tenderly brushed her cheek, moving toward her mouth. Quickly she tilted her head to one side, hoping to avoid his breathless kiss. Instead, she felt his lips move toward her upper neck and lobe region.

Silently she prayed he wouldn't touch her ears, but her prayers went unanswered. His cool lips suckled her lobes, sending a tingling through the length of her body, resulting in a rash of goose bumps. Willow held her breath as she felt him move on top of her, slipping a leg between her legs and prying them apart slightly.

Releasing one of her wrists, Spike ran his fingers down the length of her arm, across a breast, stopping momentarily to massage a taut nipple. Shifting his weight to one side, he ran his hand along the length of her stomach and abdomen at which Willow felt her muscles contract to avoid his touch.

Dreading the direction Spike's fingers were headed, Willow felt herself breathing heavy from panic and, dare she say it, some anticipation. Although she didn't much enjoy her situation as being Spike's captive, she found herself oddly curious as to just how far Spike would take this little venture with her body and what it had to do with her sleeping.

His fingers hesitated on her pelvis. Willow frowned. Reacting defensively, she lifted her free arm and swatted his hand away. A growling laugh erupted from his throat, sending an unnerving tremor through her body. His hand returned to her pelvis, pressing firmly into her. An unmistakable growl erupted from Spike, and she knew that if she could see, Spike had morphed into his demonic guise.

She tried pulling his hand away again, but found that it was fixed in its position. The sharpness of his fangs dragged across the broken and bruised flesh of her neck. She struggled with the fondling intentions of his fingers, but instead felt his fangs sink into old, scabbed over wounds.

She whimpered at the pain, desperately trying to push his hand away from her body. His teeth momentarily receding from her neck. Swiftly he moved his fingers until the palm of his hand was clamped down over her clit, his fingers pressing deeply into the groove of her vulva despite the barricade of her thin cotton pants.

Instinctively, Willow tried to clamp her legs tightly together, but found herself gasping with pain as Spike sank his fangs deeply into her neck. As he slowly fed, she felt his fingers pressing into her rhythmically, a blackness engulfing her mind, and a warmth flooding her abdomen.




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