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 Three


Spike stood in the basement, a far distance from the sunlight streaming in through the storm doors that lay wide open.

"In this corner," he directed the delivery men.

Down a long ramp of wood, two delivery men eased a small wooden crate on a two wheeler into the recess of the basement. Two more trips resulted in a several more crates of different sizes being deposited into that corner.

"Sign here," one of the delivery men said, pointing to an electronic device.

Spike clumsily picked up the writing implement and signed a large X. Then reaching into his red shirt pocket, he pulled out a small wad of bills and counted off a few, handing them over to the delivery men.

"Remember," Spike said. "If anyone in the area asks what you're doing out this way, just tell 'em to mind their bloody business."

Both the delivery men nodded in silence. Gathering the two-wheeler and the wooden ramp, they climbed from the basement, closing the storm doors behind them. Quickly, Spike drew a chain through the handles and slipped a padlock into the links, clicking it shut.

As before, he pried open the crates and systematically examined the contents. This time he found an assortment of women's clothing, mostly dated dresses that Drusilla had kept as momentos of her kills. They were dresses that she adored but would not wear herself.

As he tossed them to the side, he noted the color of one of them. Pulling it from the pile, the forest green color of the silk shimmered in the dim light. It was a loose fitting dress that was form fitting through the bodice but flared into a wide long skirt. The long sleeves were narrow and the neckline plunged in a wide arc both in the front and the back.

"Looks like it'll fit Willow," Spike said, as he threw the dress over his shoulder. "Get her out of those clothes. Starting to smell." Her arousal from his efforts was growing stronger with every feed, and he wanted to be able to smell every nuance of that arousal mixed with her fear and adrenalin.

After hunting through the crates, he finally found what he was looking for: a small metal chest. Opening it, he found it stuffed with old money of all denominations and currencies. Tucking it under his arm, he ignored the other crates, and retreated to the living room to sort through the money.

With much effort, Willow woke. She resisted consciousness, but something had prodded her awake. Opening her eyes, she felt something tugging at her legs. Weakly, she sat up and saw her cotton pants being peeled off her. She reached out to pull them back, but Spike swatted her hand away.

"Sorry, luv," he said. "You stink."

Offended by the words, she frowned. "Well, you... you're not so good at anything yourself, you know."

"Such as what?" he said to her, motioning to her to remove her top.

Willow clutched herself and shook her head. It was bad enough, she was sitting in her underwear before the vampire, and was glad she hadn't decided to wear the ones with the pink teddy bears on them. Plain white and cotton was safe. It was neutral.

"Such as... such as... the breathing," she finally said.

Spike chuckled. "Can't argue with you about that," he replied humbly. "Shirt, please."

"No," Willow whined, trying to ignore the throbbing in her neck. Gingerly she touched it and found another makeshift bandage over Spike's feeding ground.

Grabbing her about the ankle, Spike pulled her toward the end of the bed. In a grand sweeping motion, he grasped her arm and flung her over his shoulder.

Willow's head spun from the movement, as she hung limply over his shoulder. "Oh," she moaned. "Puke! Puke!"

Quickly, Spike put her down, but as soon as her feet hit the floor, her legs gave out. Spike caught her before she hit the floor. Lifting her, he cradled her in his arms and carried her from the bedroom into another part of the house.

Forcing herself to open her eyes, she found Spike lowering her, clothes and all, into a steaming hot bath filled with foam bubbles.

"Clean yourself up," he said, closing the door to the bathroom behind him.

Willow's muscles couldn't resist the heat of the bath. She sank into the water and watched the water turn the pale skin on her legs a light pink. Slowly, she peeled off the rest of her soaked clothes, dropping them into a watery pile on the tiled floor.

Sighing deeply, Willow began to wash herself with leisurely strokes and took in the state of the bathroom. When last she used it, the bathroom was filthy. Now, it was sparkling clean. Where a shattered mirror hung, which wasn't shattered when she first arrived in the house, was just a doorless medicine cabinet. Thinking back to the magical necklace, Willow reasoned that the vampire smashed the mirror so she wouldn't be able to transport back to Sunnydale.

Touching her neck, Willow slowly began to peel the bandage off. The surgical tape lifted with little discomfort due to the steam from the bath. Gently, she bathed her neck, and then sunk beneath the water to wet her hair.

For a moment she stayed immersed in the water, enjoying the buoyant warmth that engulfed her. In the warmth, almost all of her muscles relaxed. Frowning, she touched her vulva and felt her muscles contract as though anxious to be relieved of their tension. Emerging from the water, she wiped suds from her face and wondered what Spike was trying to accomplish and why.

After what seemed like forever, Willow reluctantly pulled herself from the bath. Her wrinkled fingers reached for a towel, and she began to dry herself. As she combed her wet hair and applied some apple scented body lotion that was left out on the sink, she looked at the pile of sopping wet clothes.

"What am I supposed to wear?"

Wrapping the damp towel around her body, she inched the door open and called for Spike. She heard his footfalls and watched him coming down the hall. He wore only a pair of jeans and walked barefoot, his thoughts buried in a newspaper.

"Yeah?" he said, as he stopped before the door and glanced up.

"Um... what am I supposed to wear since my clothes are all wet?" she asked nervously.

Pushing the door open, Spike grabbed her by the wrist, and pulled her into the hallway.

Unwillingly, Willow tried to resist, using her free hand to keep the towel securely wrapped around her. When she refused to move, Spike swiveled about and promptly lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom. Tossing her onto the bed, Willow scrambled weakly to maintain her dignity and her towel.

"There," Spike said pointing to a green silk dress. "Will that do Princess?"

Sitting up, Willow stared with mouth agape at the dress. It was beautiful. She hadn't seen anything like it. Slowly she nodded.

"Good then," Spike said, pulling her up from the bed.

In one swift motion, Spike yanked the towel from her body. Willow froze with fear. She didn't know what to do. She stood naked, shivering slightly from the brush of air over her damp body. She stared unblinkingly, like a deer trapped in the headlights of a car.

Amused, Spike lifted Willow's arms. Lifting the dress over her, he guided the soft fabric over her arms and head, his fingers purposely brushing over her hardened nipples and lingering at her hips for a moment before smoothing out the material over her backside.

Lowering her arms, Willow found herself breathing heavily and not knowing why. The blood in her veins coursed as her pulse quickened. Her flesh prickled as if anticipating touch but received none. If she didn't know any better, she thought she was actually disappointed when Spike told her to go sit on the sofa while he attended her dinner.

After eating, exhaustion settled in quickly. Confused and finally numb with fear, all Willow wanted to do was sleep. It was obvious that whatever intentions Spike were toward her, he had no desire to kill her... just yet. It was as if he was toying with her, but why?

After retiring to the bedroom, she discovered a couple of other dresses laid out on the bed, and a black clingy spaghetti strap nightgown. With much effort she hung the dresses in the closet alongside Spike's leather jacket and changed into the nightgown. As she slid into the cool cotton sheets of the bed, she couldn't help feel that something wasn't right, besides being held captive. It was as if something was missing. Something... but she couldn't figure it out and soon fell asleep.

Willow rose from the depths of slumber slowly, an overwhelming sense of pleasure permeating her body. She heard herself moan, felt herself wrapped in an affectionate embrace. Breathing deeply, her eyes fluttered open to the darkness of the bedroom. The sheets around her moved as she lay on her side.

Behind her, she felt a body pressed into hers. She found her neck resting against an arm that snaked around her chest and played with her breast through the fabric of her nightgown. A second hand roamed freely over her hips and abdomen. She had no doubt it was Spike, and suddenly remembered what she thought was missing earlier. He hadn't fed from her.

Tensing slightly, Spike's body pressed into hers again, an undeniable hardness pressing against her backside. While the hand upon her breast teased a nipple into erect submission, his other hand slid over her pelvis and his fingers idly caressed her clit before slipping into the folds of her vulva, which, to Willow's dismay, were wet and swollen.

His cool lips pressed gently at the nape of her neck, sending a series of shivers through her body. Her heartbeat quickened. Despite herself, Willow heard herself panting as Spike's fingers glided inside her. A low growl vibrated in Spike's chest, as he pressed against her and undoubtedly donned his demon fangs.

Willow felt the muscles in her abdomen contract, a tiny ball of heat growing tighter as Spike worked his fingers deep inside and then slipping out in one motion to caress her clit. Willow found herself clutching at the bed sheets, clamping her legs tightly together as his fingers continued to glide in and out. The sharp points of Spike's fangs dragging along her shoulder caused her to tremble.

Lost in the rising warmth, her breath becoming quicker, Willow closed her eyes and moved against the rhythm of Spike's fingers. Grabbing his arm, she coaxed it to quicken its motion, and felt a twinge in her swollen vulva. Sucking in her breath, she held it as she shook with the onset of an orgasm, then shouted out at the cold, sharp fangs that sunk into her shoulder and flooded her flesh with the heat of pain. Yet, she bucked against Spike's hand which was firmly clamped down over her clit, his fingers moving deep inside her, as he in turned moved against her backside, moistening her flesh with semen.

Panting heavily, Willow felt her blood slip away and slowly her body became still. If it weren't for her heart beating furiously in her chest, she would have succumbed to sleep sooner. Instead she lay awake, listening to the liquid pull from her veins. She felt Spike's chest heave with every drink, until at last he pulled out of her.

Then there was darkness.




Next Chapter