Title: The Chase
Author: Karen
Email: Coe42@aol.com
Distribution: Anyone nice enough to ask.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: A Willow/Spike Romance
Feedback: Always!!!!
Disclaimer: I do not own anything but the plot. Joss owns the rest. Selfish Joss.
The days, weeks, months, years had passed so quickly. He hadn't realized how long it had been since he had seen her. Decades. Her flesh had grown paler. Wrinkles ringed her eyes and mouth. He stared down at her frail hands, paper thin, the bones were nearly visible. He hissed at the scent of death in the room.
There wasn't much time left.
"Hello Red." Spike breathed.
Willow's eyes fluttered weakly. Several machines beeped and whirled. Then slowly the lids opened and brilliant green eyes met icy blue maybe for the last time. She looked startled. Her eyes held fear, then remembrance. Her lips attempted to smile, but the flesh just wouldn't stretch for her anymore. Her lips parted, "You look the same . ." She whispered.
Spike laughed. Her voice still held a childlike awe, amazed at the whole wide world. A smile touched hiss face. "Of course I do. I am a vampire remember?"
Her gray hair spread out around her like a soft storm cloud. His hand reached out to touch it. < I miss the red. > He thought. It's vibrant color was much more appropriate to the fiery personality.
"I'm old. I'm not senile. It's just I haven't seen you in so long. Your still wearing that trenchcoat." Her eyes twinkled with gentle teasing.
"Oh, well I like it. Black is always in. Keeps my bad ass rep intact, even when I am visiting old mortal girls who have no taste in jackets."
Spike fondly stroked the old woman's cheek. Her mind was still as sharp as ever. That was good. It wouldn't be worth the risk otherwise. He grinned at her. She wouldn't thank him for it. First, he had to tell her. . .
"Oz is dead."
"What??" Spike had known the werewolf was dead.. He never would have come here if the dog was alive. She loved him too much. It surprised him that she would tell him. Did she suspect?
"He," Pain choked her voice. "His heart. I found him in the basement still chained. He just couldn't control the changes anymore. That's why I'm here. I didn't handle it too well." She frowned at her own weakness.
"You loved him." < More then you loved or even liked me. > The door opened and a young fellow stepped into the room. Spike motioned him into the corner, out of sight. "It's only, what's that term? The one they always use on television? Human. That's it." Sympathy for the dead was not his strong suit. Especially since the dog had tried to kill him on and off for two decades. Slayer dog.
"Why are you here?" Willow asked. "It's been at least forty years since we stopped fighting the supernatural and dusting the undead." She colored. "Sorry. Those were probably your friends."
Exhausted from her little speech, Willow closed her eyes. Spike watched her chest heave with the effort to continue breathing. He had even less time then he had originally thought. He motioned the other guy forward. Then he stood and turned away from the former hacker/demon hunter.
Placing his hands behind his back, Spike paced. "It was a long time ago that we became," < Friends? Something
more? > "That we stopped trying to kill one another. You saved my life. Then I attempted to return the favor when Dru," < My pet. > Druscilla was long dusted by Buffy's replacement, who Spike had then tortured to death slowly for over five years. The pain of that loss was still being felt. Maybe that's why he had come here. Why he had remembered the girl. "Tried to kill you. Anyway, there was one thing about that second meeting of ours that you should remember. I said I would. And here I am."
Willow slowly reopened her eyes. Her mind was whirling. Desperately trying to search for the right memory. Her great green eyes blinked once, very slowly. "You said one day, I wouldn't be with Oz. And that you would come back. Come back for me."
Spike could hear her heart quicken. < Fear? Or excitement? > He kept his back to her.
"But I'm too old now. I have children. I have children who have children. And I'm dying. I won't last another night." Her voice was satisfied. She thought she was beyond that possible future now. Spike turned his icy eyes to her. Then waved the other man forward.
"The only way you will escape me is death. But I plan to cheat the bastard. Remember not to fight too hard. Although it doesn't really matter. I am going to win."
Spike turned to the man who was no man. The creature was an Incubus. They made their way in the world by sucking the life-force out of the young, in a way that would make the nearly three hundred year old vampire blush. Spike thought of him as sort of a distant cousin. This one owed him a favor.
"Are you ready?"
The creature nodded. "It's unusual. I'm not sure what this will do. It could kill her." The incubus leaned over the old woman. Spike grabbed his shoulder.
"Understand this, friend. If she dies, you die. And it will not be pleasant nor an easy way to go." His eyes flashed blue fire.
Willow was weakly thrashing around. She was barely able to make the sheets ripple. The creature leaned over her. Willow whimpered, hating herself for the weakness. The attractive build and features of the thing didn't fool her. He was a monster. His mouth latched onto hers. She screamed into his throat. Then her body was paralyzed.
Spike watched intently as Willow suffered the incubus's kiss. < This had better work. I am tired of being alone. > A painful seizure ripped through her frail body and Spike fought down the urge to kill. Then he felt the magic in the air. Ignoring the creature, he stared at the hacker's face. Nothing seemed to happen for several seconds, then it did.
Fire and ice screamed through her veins. < Why is he doing this to me? I thought we were at least not enemies, maybe even friends. > Every cell in her body had current running through it. A sweet pain raced around within, burning, hurting, and changing.
Spike almost gasped as her hair became fuller, lighter. Then color seeped into it slowly, like a blood stain. The red spread out from her roots, till it was all red. The flesh on her face grew fuller, the wrinkles smoothed themselves. The frail hands gained flesh, her spine straightened. Blemishes on the pale skin vanished. She was getting younger by the second.
< Is this how Oz felt? Is this what he went through every month? God, how I miss him. . . > Her mind felt detached. The pain had been so great, she had just shut it down. Then suddenly the pressure on her mouth was gone. She gasped in air. Her lungs felt like they were burning. Willow sat forward in the bed.
Her eyes met Spike's. They were hooded, full of mysterious emotions. Willow glared at him. Then he smiled. It was a dark smile full of desire. That confused her. She placed her head in her hands. Then she pulled away from her own hands as if they had bitten her.
The hands were young, strong, soft. < Not my hands. > She turned to Spike and caught a flash of red. Her young hand caught hold of a wisp of her hair. It was red. < Red. > His eyes never left her. She glanced around the room, her vision clear. Willow's mind whirled with confusion, until she saw the older man.
His features were the same as before, just older. Willow's eyes narrowed. The man backed away from her fiery green eyes. "What did you do to me?" She asked in a clear loud tone. The strength in her voice startled her. She lay back against the covers. "I'm young again." She breathed.
Spike dragged his eyes away from the vibrant redhead. "How long?" He demanded.
The incubus frowned. "Maybe two days."
"Plenty of time. Dave, get out."
The incubus slinked out of the room.
"Oh, and Dave, eat something. You look like hell."
Spike turned back to the girl. Willow was now somewhere between eighteen and twenty. She was now slightly older then when they had been trapped together in the mansion. She was the perfect age. Spikes face changed. He felt the fangs slide down into place. It was definitely time.
Spike moved closer to the bed. The girl's eyes widened in surprise. "No no no no no no." Willow tore at the IV lines and the machines. Slapping her wrists and dragging her nails across the flesh to pull out needles and tubes. Machines began to squawk. She was desperate to escape.
"Stop it!" He yelled, grabbing her arms. His face reverted to its human visage. Fear widened eyes glanced up at him, full of tears. Gently he removed the tubes. "You'll hurt yourself." His voice was soft and persuasive. Willow stopped struggling.
"Listen Willow, we had a deal. We couldn't be together because we loved other people, but they're dead now. So stop fighting me."
Spike had hoped she'd just want him to change her. She was dying, he could stop that from ever happening. What was the problem?
Willow pushed the fear down. It probably wasn't good for her at her age. Willow mentally laughed at herself. < I'm not old anymore. And fear is a good thing. > "I can't stop." < All those years fighting the undead . . >
Spike angrily knocked over her IV stand. The bag split and fluids sloshed all over the floor. "Damnit Willow! Oz is dead. Dru is dust. Xander, Buffy, that damn librarian, even the cheerleader, they are all dead. Why can't we be together??"
"I-I ah, c-can't . . ."
"Can't what? Face the thought of spending eternity with me? That Willow my love, is a damned lie!" Another machine crashed into the floor. "Ever since I touched you, you have felt drawn to me. Why do you think, in the many opportunities you've had to kill me or let your slayer kill me, you have never done it?? I'll tell you. You want this. You want us to be together. But your conscience won't let you admit it. You won't let you admit it!!!" Spike glared down at her. Then he turned away.
"All right. You don't want to give up the fight. I love a good challenge as much as the next bloke. Here is the deal. You have all of tonight and all of tomorrow day to get your affairs in order. Write a will, read a good book, say good-bye to the family. Tomorrow night you meet me at your old house here in Sunnydale. The game is simple. Kill me and you are free to regrow old and die. Don't kill me, or if I catch you, you will never die." He turned his blue eyes on her once more.
Willow was in shock. < He's giving me the chance to kill him. . > She didn't know what to say. So she sat there with her mouth open.
"Do we have a deal?"
"She was dead either way. Part of her would live on either way. The deal was simple soul goes on, or the body.
< Deal with the devil and either way he'll get your soul. > Willow lowered her eyes. < What do I want? I mean really? Apart from the whole moral dilemma thing? > No inner voice answered. One last battle against the supernatural. "Deal."
Spike blinked. He hadn't expected her to agree. < Does she want to live forever? Or does she really want to kill me? > Spike shrugged. It didn't really matter. A dark grin crossed the vampire's pale flesh. "Then the chase is on."
Willow swallowed. < Why did I just agree to this?? > The room was empty. Spike had walked out. He didn't have to keep an eye on her. Willow knew if she didn't show up Spike would slaughter her children and grandchildren.
Sliding her barefeet down onto the cold hospital tile, she grinned. < I never thought I would leave this place. > Her feet guided her over the worst of the water spill. Willow pulled her clothes out of the closet. Slipping the big sweater over her head, she laughed. Deaging had lost her about twenty pounds. The sweater was now ridiculously big and hung from her frame. A mirror caught her eye.
The image was a shock. Willow's hand snaked to her face, touching the nicely rounded face. < I look like my granddaughter Amy! > The sweater did look silly. The red hair looked wonderful. Willow spent several seconds remembering what it was like to be young. To go to the Bronze with Xander, talk boys with Buffy, and then there was every moment spent with Oz. . . Willow shook herself. The past was long buried.
A soft knock sounded startled her. Willow ducked into the closet. It smelled stale like moth balls. She placed her young hand over her young face. People stepped into the hospital room. The voices were muffled by the closet door, but Willow heard enough. One was her son Alex, and the other was her daughter Jenny. They had found the mess and assumed the worst. The two had a rapid fire conversation and ran off to get security.
Willow pulled on her clunky orthopedic shoes and fled the room.
Ten minutes later she was home. Half the night had gone. She only had until sunset. The beautiful house was dark. No one would be here this late. Willow walked down the stone path past the flowers. Sliding her hand along the top edge of the door frame, she grabbed her spare key. The door opened easily. Willow sighed, entering the living room.
The giant TV and the lights blinked on as the door shut. Automatic functions were carried out by the system Willow had designed. She smiled as she heard the coffee pot turn itself on in the kitchen. < The Future is here. > She thought, climbing the stairs to her room.
The master bedroom was half empty. Her children had boxed up all of Oz's things in an attempt to help her. They just couldn't understand how much the empty spaces had hurt her. It was as if a part of herself had been erased. Gone forever. Willow opened the trunk at the foot of their bed.
Her children hadn't understood the comfort memories could be. Willow stared down at the innocent pile of clothes and momentos. A picture of Oz lay on the top. A sad smile touched her lips. It was Alex's graduation party. Oz had been the only 35 year old with fuchsia hair. Gently she laid the picture back on the top. Then she lifted the entire top out of the trunk.
Stakes, bottles of holy water, and ancient spell books lined the bottom all covered in dust . < I may be young again, but I still have the same old problems. > She hefted the tiny crossbow she had designed for Buffy. It attached to the wrist and shot one tiny bolt. It had saved the Slayer's life on several occasions, maybe it would save her now.
Piling supplies into her bag, Willow closed the trunk. The smell of dust and wood was overpowering. It brought back so much. She couldn't stand to sit there and remember, not when they were all dead. Wiping silent tears away she crawled into her and Oz's bed. Sleep and dreams overtook her.
Spike swore at the clock. Hiding out back in the old mansion was not a good idea. In fact it was a terrible idea. After an hour, Spike had found himself back in the room. The stairs had partially collapsed. Rats made bold by lack of human contact stared openly at the vampire as he passed. He kicked one. It screamed and scurried down into one of the holes in the wall.
Glancing up at the gaping hole in the ceiling, Spike almost sighed. He had almost died here. She could have killed him. Instead she had removed the chunk of wood flooring that was threatening his existence and let him feed off her. Powerful emotions seemed to linger in the tiny cellar room.
Willow was going to fight him. Her best friend was the bloody Slayer. It didn't matter that the blond had died years ago. Willow had fought demons, vampires, and demigods, and with the help of her friends, she had killed them all. She may have looked meek, but she had a warrior's heart. Her outliving everyone of the slayer's friends and the bloody Slayer herself was proof of that.
Spike hunkered down into the corner of the room, alone with his memories of a filthy red haired girl with his blood on her hands.
A hand tapped her shoulder. Willow moaned, pulling sheets closer to her. She was dreaming of her husband and the day they'd met. Only her husband had white blond hair . . .
"I don't know how you got up here . . ." A voice was saying. Willow opened her eyes. < Had it all been a dream? > The strip of red hair blocking her vision betrayed that idea. Willow sat up. Her eyes focused on a boy with brown hair.
"Come on Amy! If Aunt Jenny catches you up here again we'll both be in big trouble."
Willow looked down at her grandson, James. His eyes met hers and they got real wide. He started to back away from her. His mouth opened to yell for help. "Jimmy, Shh!"
"You're not Amy!" James frowned, taking another step backwards.
"No. I'm Grandma Willow. Look I can't explain why I look like this . . ."
James face scrunched up. "Grandmom's gone to heaven. You're not her." Then James started to scream. He ran from the room screaming. Willow heard startled voices asking excited questions.
Willow was stunned. < Grandmom's gone to heaven. > She glanced around the room. < I'm dead? Did they even look for me? > Footsteps shocked her out of her stupor. She had to get out of here. Grabbing the bag of Slayerette tools of the trade, Willow threw open the window. She climbed out onto the ledge. A voice called for her to stop. Determined green eyes met startled green eyes. Her son Alex stood staring open mouthed. But it was too late, Willow was sliding down the edge of the house.
She ran as fast as her thick clunky shoes would allow down the street. Willow never heard her son's startled cry. Never saw him lean out the bedroom window. Never heard him yell, "Mom!" By the time he reached the street, she had vanished like a ghost or a memory long forgotten.
The sun finally set. Spike was almost excited. Whatever happened tonight it was going to be bloody great fun.
It wasn't hard to find Willow's old house. The trees were taller, thicker, the streets were newly paved, but the houses were exactly the same. Spike sauntered up the path, letting his trench flair out behind him. The game was about to begin. It never hurt to make a grand entrance.
The porch was dark, but to a vampire's eyes the figure sitting there was as distinctive as if she were all dressed in neon, like the young seemed to fancy these days. They spotted each other simultaneously. Both took a second to assess the other. Spike grinned.
Willow stepped into the light. Her sick-clothes were gone, replaced by a simple cotton shirt and jean shorts. Her feet were in soft sandals. A dark bag hung over one shoulder. Spike admired the simplicity of the outfit. Willow had dressed for maneuverability and speed.
Willow nearly choked. Spike had been wearing the trench coat in her hospital room, but underneath he had worn a light colored shirt and slacks. Now Spike stood before her the way she best remembered him, in black and red. From the beat up boots to the red silk shirt, the outfit was exactly the same and the meaning wasn't lost on Willow. The clothes represented Spike at the height of his power.
Deliberately, Willow gathered up her red hair and tied it into a pony tail. Spike kept his eyes on her, watching her eyes, her body and her hands all at once. Then she stepped down off the porch. "Well, I'm here. You're here. How do we start this thing?" Willow tried not to smile. < I sounded just like Buffy! >
Spike placed his hands in the great trench. "How about you surrender, and we go back to my place for a little fun?"
Willow almost laughed. He was sort of attractive in a dark demonic way. < What am I thinking?? > Willow ignored her fuzzy bunny feelings for Spike. He was a killer, pure and simple. "I don't think so."
Spike shrugged. "Oh well, it was worth a shot. We could have saved a lot of time. I am going to win, Willow."
"I don't think so. I've killed a lot of vampires." It was true. Willow had dusted dozens of vampires. But none she had liked or loved? < How did Buffy kill Angel? This is not the same. I don't love . . Spike? >
Spike rolled his eyes. "And I've killed more people then you've met in your entire lifetime, so let's give the 'I'm not afraid of you' crap a rest. You came here for a fight, so did I."
Willow didn't want to turn Spike into a pile of ashes. Then again Willow didn't want to become a vampire. She searched his blue eyes for a way out of this. < Why? Why did he have to pick me? > She lowered her eyes. The only way out of this was death. Spike would become dust and she would die of old age. Then her soul would go to heaven, and his soul . . . "Then let's fight."
Faster then lightening, Willow lifted her left wrist and flicked it. The tiny cross bow launched its deadly bolt. Spike's body whipped around from the force of the blow. He hit the ground. Willow grinned. Lowering her wrist, she ran off into the night.
Impact. Spike felt his body crash to the ground. Pained seared through him. Sitting up he tore out the wooden bolt. She had struck his left shoulder, a deliberate miss. The girl was good.
Spike stood. "Maybe I should just go home now. What am I saying? This is even more fun then I thought." Spike merged with the shadows, slipping with them off after Willow.
Willow scanned the streets. Nothing. Everything was dark and quiet. She reloaded the tiny crossbow. She doubted she would get another bolt into him. The element of surprise was gone. < Then why did I use it to deliberately taunt him? I should have dusted him. > Willow frowned. The truth was she didn't want to kill him. < I just have to fight him off until sunrise. By the next nightfall I should begin aging and he'll have to let me die. >
A dark scary feeling roared up in the pit of her stomach. < I'm not afraid of dying. > But she was. Death was what she had wanted last night. She was old. Oz was gone. Her children were grown, hell even her grandchildren were mostly grown! There was no place in there left for an ex-demon hunter. But now, she was young again. All right, it was a supernatural youth, but she was strong again. And when you're strong, death is an abstract thing. It happens to others. It doesn't truly exist for you. Then every once in awhile you realize death is very real and the fear of it can make you crazy. < I am not afraid to die. > "Liar." Willow breathed.
Willow was near. Spike could almost taste her light scent on the breeze. To have that scent around for eternity would be perfect. Add to that scent the taste of fresh blood . . Spike shivered. He had to catch her.
Circling a giant oak, he caught another breath of her scent. Moving quickly, he hoped to surprise her. Unfortunately it was Spike who was surprised. He stepped out into the open. Beneath his feet lay a pile of cords. "What the hell?"
Spike was scooped up into the net. The net ascended quickly. Growling in disgust, Spike glared down at the diminutive red head.
"Sorry Spike. You don't get to win this time."
She wasn't smiling. If this was her victory, she should be smiling. "And what do you win, Willow? A swift death after the sun sets tomorrow?"
She wouldn't meet his eyes. "I'm sure you'll get out before sunrise. I really don't want to hurt you. Being undead just isn't for me."
"And being all dead is? Willow, the worms will devour your corpse. Plants will be slaughtered by the hundreds to adorn your coffin. They will honor your death with their own. Your family will visit at first, out of love, then out of obligation, then not at all. You will be forgotten. Your friends will be forgotten. Is that what you want?"
The girl frowned. "Smile Willow. I am caught. Your death is assured." Spike slipped a hand into his pocket. An old style switchblade, the kind that were completely illegal in this day and age, sat comfortably within. Slowly freeing the switchblade, he watched her struggle with herself. Her face dropped into her hands.
"I don't know." She whispered, her faith shaken.
< I spent my whole life stopping things -like him- kill. He's just another one of them. He's trying to trick me. God, I don't want to die. Stop it! I am not young. I am eighty-two years old. It's time to do what's right one last time. > Willow lifted her head.
Spike had his hands above his head. They were tugging on the netting. His blue eyes were filled with emotion.
< Concern? For me? > She glared at him. Her face dropped into her famous 'resolved face'. Then Spike grinned like the devil. A glint of silver flashed. The net dropped. Spike dropped, landing neatly on the ground like a cat.
< Distraction! > Her mind screamed. < He wanted to keep you here long enough for him to escape!! > She backed away from the blond vampire. "No. Nononononononono! She chanted, running off down the street. Her hand was stuffed into her slayerette bag.
< I am so stupid! How could I underestimate him like that? Time for recriminations later Rosenberg. > Ideas replaced panic. < Get to a church.! > Willow changed direction, heading north. Halfway there she glanced behind her. The road was empty. She was alone. "Spike?"
Spike stood leaning against the tree. Willow wasn't the meek little girl Angel had talked about. Angel had been to obsessed with the Slayer to realize the potential in Willow. What a fighter! The net trap was a classic battle strategy. Angel was a fool to go for the blond, he should have vamped the red head then. She would have killed Buffy inside of a week.
There was only one advantage Spike had, other then unnatural strength and good fashion sense, he was older then quite a few of those battle strategies.
Willow was still two blocks from the nearest church. She sat. Her breathing was ragged. Running had been stupid. Panic had wasted a lot of her energy. She was a seasoned demon hunter. She should know better. Opening her bag of tricks, she tossed the empty holy water jar. It was just extra weight now. She pulled a wickedly sharp chunk of wood out. Tucking it into her jeans, she stood and moved on.
The church sat quietly, its doors opened invitingly. Candlelight spilled warmly onto the steps. Willow walked to them. She heard something swish, turning her head she saw nothing, then the light on her face slowly faded to nothing. Willow's head snapped forward. Spike stood between her and the church.
Stepping back, Willow raised her stake, but Spike caught her hand. With a sharp twist, Willow's wrist snapped and the stake fell from nerveless fingers. Willow cried out. < I'm caught! >
Spike winced when the bones snapped so easily. The stake clattered to the pavement. He was sorry he had to hurt her, but he needed time. Time to get her back to the mansion before sunrise. She twisted and squirmed in his grasp. Applying pressure to her broken limb made her stop fast.
Lifting her into his arms, he pulled her away from the safety of the church. "Ah, Willow, aren't you Jewish?" She bit his arm and he almost let her go. Almost. He carried her back to the tree she had thought she had caught him in.
Spike gently laid her down on the grass around the tree. "Told you I would win."
Willow glared up at him. Angry green eyes flashed at his merry blue. Then her eyes slid away. "Please don't. Spike, I don't want to be a vampire. Please. It's too late for anything between us. Let me die."
Her voice was soft, sad and persuasive. Spike sighed, "Why? Why is it too late for us? I know we've never been together. We've never even kissed, really. But I also know we could be great together. We will be great together." Spike's face shifted.
Willow couldn't look into those horrible eyes. Demon yellow had replaced the icy blue. Spike pressed her down and the smell of crushed grass and damp soil filled her lungs. This was the moment every slayer or demon hunter fears, to be helpless in the arms of your enemy. Unbidden, tears welled up in Willow's eye's spilling down her face and into the grass.
Spike paused. Tears were running down her cheeks. He released her wrists. Hissing, he pushed away from her. She just lay there, crying. Her wrist was cradled against her body. Disgusted, Spike turned away.
Willow watched the vampire turn away. Confused, she sat up. Spike held on to the slight body. The kiss had been bold, almost impulsive like stealing. Now it felt right. He broke off the first kiss before she could, and quickly kissed her again. Willow wasn't leaving. She continued to meet his kisses, her lips full of warmth. Her breath on his face and in his mouth felt like lava.
Willow felt his lips on her throat. The feeling of his lips there was like a sharp pain. She relaxed as he continued just to kiss her throat. He kissed her lips again. Emotions swirled all around in her head and Willow suddenly wished she had more then one day left. Warmth rushed into his mouth, almost burning him. Last time he had had to be careful. This time he drank of her with mad abandon. Kissing her had proved, at least to him, that they were meant to be together. You don't thank someone with a kissing session that long. Her blood burned down his throat into his stomach.
Willow's left hand slid up under the trench coat. The broken right had gone numb near when the kissing had started. Pain. Spike let go of the girl. She dropped to the grass. Blood was streaming from his chest. The blade was buried to the hilt. He ripped it free. Anger clouded his demon eyes. His hands encircled her throat.
Willow was so close to death. She could feel it. She was almost disappointed when he didn't snap her neck. Spike continued to hold her mouth open, even though Willow had stopped struggling. She was too damn sneaky. Even her weakness couldn't be trusted. Then she just began swallowing the blood. It had stopped running down her clothes.
"Well? What are you waiting for Willow?"
"Wh-what? But you c-caught me. You won." Confusion filled every corner of her mind. But Spike just sat in the grass.
"Run. I've given up. Go back to your family. Say your good-byes. Spend the day with your loved ones and pass away quietly in the night. I won't try and stop you. You've won."
Willow walked around to where she could face the vampire. "Run?"
He kept his blue eyes to the ground. Only half lifting them to acknowledge her voice. "Yes."
Willow through her arms up in the air in disgust. "After all this???" She waved at the tree, the grass and the streets. "You're just done now? You're just giving up??? Oh, well I guess you really didn't love me then, huh? Did you?"
Willow was hurt, and confused and not sure why she felt hurt and confused. She should be happy. She wasn't. She fell down into the grass so he would have to meet her eyes. They were filled with loneliness and dark emotions.
"You don't want to be with me. I think you bloody damned proved that didn't you? I won't have you sulking around for eternity. So I am not going to change you. You are free."
"Free?" Willow stared at him.
Angrily Spike answered, "Yes. Damn you. How many ways are you going to make me say it??"
Willow leaned in towards the vampire. She was an inch away from his face. His eyes were curious as she moved in a little closer. Then she breathed, "Thankyou."
Before she could move away, Spike closed the gap between them. His lips met hers. Surprised, Willow didn't pull away. Electricity seemed to leap from him to her. Willow leaned into the kiss, slipping her hands under the leather trench to wrap around him.
A fourth and fifth kiss happened. Her hands were now firmly encircled around him. She might deny it later, but she was definitely feeling something. Her breathing was rapid, her kisses intense. Spike tilted his head, kissing her throat.
She slid backward, laying down in the grass. Spike leaned over her. She wasn't afraid of him this time. His lips kissed hers, then they went to her throat again. A nervous thrill went through her. She did her best to ignore it. Spike had said she won. He wouldn't. Would he?
The second before she could escape, she felt it. A sharp pain as his fangs buried themselves in her throat. The wash of good feelings that came with it, did nothing to numb the panic. Willow tried to struggle, but her body was still caught up in the good feelings.
They would be together. Deep down he had been right. She wanted to be with him. It didn't matter how it happened. All he needed to know was that it needed to happen.
"Do it." She whispered weakly. "Kill me."
Spike squeezed. It would be so simple to kill her. A little pressure. Or a slight twist. Then Willow was gone. Spike began to laugh.
"You almost had me there Red. Actually, you've done me a bit of a favor." Spike grinned. He tore his shirt open.
Everything seemed to be working, until Spike started to laugh. Willow tried not to panic as he grabbed hold of her mouth. Forcing it open, he leaned over her. Blood from the chest wound bled into her mouth. Choking, and sputtering, Willow tried to keep the blood out. But she felt it slide past her tongue and trickle down her throat.
Her hand left hand reached up to touch him. Spike pulled her up out of the grass, close to him. Her lips touched his chest. She continued to drink.
Now all she had to do was wait. But she couldn't resist taunting him first. She motioned for him to lean closer. Spike moved down to catch her words. She glanced into his blue eyes and whispered.
"I drank about a gallon of holy water, before we met on the porch."
Spike fell back away from her. Shock. "Holy water???"
The burning in his stomach wasn't warmth it was holy water. He glared down at the red haired demon hunter. "We could both die."
"We will both die." She whispered slipping into the death before the change.
Spike glared at her. Sweat broke out on his brow. The burning was still coursing through his body. But he hadn't turned into a pile of ash yet. Lifting her, he stumbled behind her old house. His car sat there. Placing her inside, he walked around to the driver's side. The sky was growing warm.
"One thing you didn't reckon with Red. You spent the whole night running. You probably sweated most of the holy water out of your system. You didn't win, yet. I still have a chance. Come tomorrow night, that is, if we are still both alive, we are going to have to have a chat about this desperate need you have to win. It's not healthy."