Title: Truth, Dolls, And The Damned
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.
Spike sat on the crate. His hands lay in his lap. The hands were dangerously close to wrapping around the room's only other occupant's throat. "Dru, pet, talk to me."
Druscilla sat in the corner of the old house's basement. She was mumbling to herself and tugging at her hair. Several tufts of dark hair lay scattered on the cement floor. She stood at the sound of his voice. "I don't wish to speak to you. Where is my Angel?"
"With any luck, dead. Yes Dru, dead. Angel is dead. No more Angel." The thought of Angel exploding into billions of dust particles, brought a half smile to Spike's lips. "Well, maybe a bit of dust. So talk to me. Don't you like it here?"
"No." Dru replied petulantly. "I want to go home to my Angel." She crossed her arms.
"You can't go home to Angel, Love. I told you. He is dusted. I made a deal. Your life for his. Please don't make me regret it." Spike stood. "Isn't there anything I can do to make you happy? Like the way we used to be, before Angel came back?"
Dru's eyes lit up. "Angel?"
Spike pulled on his leather trench. "This is getting ridiculous. I am going out. Do you want anything? Other then Angel??"
Druscilla sat back down. Her face became very intense. "Shh." She placed a finger to her lips. "I can hear her."
"Who? Who can you hear, Love?" Spike squatted down next to her.
"Miss Edith. She is so lonely. She screams and screams. It's like sweet music. Bring her to me Spike. Bring her to me and all's forgiven. Will you Spike? Do it for me. Do it for princess?" Her eyes gleamed with madness and hope.
Spike touched her cheek. "Of course I will, Dru. I'd do anything for you. You're my princess, right?"
"Only yours now." She giggled. "Only yours. You saw to that, didn't you. Spike's princess."
Buffy had been gone for a week.
Willow had been out of her wheel chair for a day.
Willow climbed over the low wall. The mansion was up on the right. She had to go there and see the last place Buffy had been. Maybe the place would be full of clues. Anything to tell her at least part of what had happened that night. Or at least it might be able to tell her what had happened with Angel.
The sun was starting to sink lower. Vampire activity had dropped off to almost nothing since the slayer's disappearance. Willow wasn't too worried about being out here alone at night. Still, she patted the pocket book filled with stakes and holy water. It never hurts to be prepared. Overgrown vegetation impeded her progress. It was like wading to the house through a sea of green. The doors were in sight.
A few minutes later she stood before the doors, exhausted and weak. Glancing up at the full moon, she sighed. < It would have been nice to have Oz for company. Can't wait three days. I have to know now. > Willow turned the handle. The door opened easily, it didn't even squeal in protest. < So much for this being like an old horror flick. No lightening, no squeaky doors, hopefully no monsters in the dark. > She went inside.
The house was silent. Willow flicked on her flashlight. The beam reflected off the far windows, illuminating only a small swath of room at a time. The place was clean. High ceilings and white walls were everywhere. In the center of the room stood a statue. Willow approached it.
It was thick and barely detailed. Orange yellow rock formed a frozen demon, mouth opened. < Ready to suck us all into Hell. > Willow shuddered. Moving closer, she kicked something. It skittered across the floor with a metallic clanging.
Spike froze mid grab. < Someone's in here with me. My luck it's the bloody Slayer. > His vampiric senses strained to catch another sound. A slight shuffling was heard. < Not the Slayer. > Buffy's footsteps echoed due to those chunky heels she always wore. No. This was someone else. Annoyed, Spike stayed still. No need to alert anyone to his presence just yet.
Willow lifted the sword. "Kendra's?"
She tilted the flashlight down to the ground. "No ashes around the statue." Methodically, Willow searched the room. Ashes near the door. Sentry dusted. Crow bar? But because of the ashes by the door, Buffy would have been way over there. < Did someone help Buffy? > Willow wandered out into one of the other rooms.
A chair sat alone. Ropes lay cut on the floor. < This is where they held Giles. > She moved quickly out of that room, not wanting to think about what Angel did to Giles. A staircase led down. Willow followed it. The light of her flashlight bounced around.
A beam of light caught Spike's eyes. < Damn it. Company. > He had hoped this was a simple job. Get the doll. Get out. But no. Spike grabbed the damned doll in question. He tossed her into a sack. Then he chucked a few of the other favorite dolls into the bag. Willow was face to face with him. "Spike!" She breathed in surprise.
Dust flew everywhere. Willow hurt. She had landed on something lumpy. Groaning, she hefted herself up. Looking down she realized she had landed on Spike. Gasping, she crawled back away from him. She flicked on her flashlight. It blinked, then went out. Willow sat in the dark, looking up at the light from the bulb, way above her head. < Ugh. >
Spike sat up and immediately wished he hadn't. Pain shot through his chest about four inches from his heart. He slid a hand carefully over his chest. Blood soaked his shirt. The girl falling on him must have driven the wood down into the flesh. Even one inch closer and Spike would have been dusted. He let out a sharp laugh.
Willow glared at Spike. Climbing slowly to her feet, she glanced around the dark room they were in. "Well, I guess I'll have to keep you alive until I find away out of here."
Spike sighed. Then he settled in to wait. This one was stubborn. She wandered around the room, pawing at the walls. Acting very much like the trapped animal she was. Had to admire her. She wasn't the type to lay down and die, or to make a deal with the devil if she didn't have to do it.
Willow fell into a frustrated heap next to Spike. She had poked, prodded and kicked every wall in this little room for the better part of an hour. And nothing. She was still trapped in a room with Spike. He was watching her through slitted eyes. Willow glanced up at the hole in the ceiling. < If only I could get up there. >
"To play Let's make a deal." Spike tried to project strength in to his voice. Truth is if he lost anymore blood he'd be too weak to stand, let alone pull open a steel door. < Course, if she pulls this makeshift stake out of me I could always suck her dry. . >
"You want me to pull that chunk of wood out of you." Willow studied the wound. It was pretty nasty. An inch to the left and Spike was a pile of ashes.
Awkwardly, Spike tried to think of a way to thank the girl without having to actually say the words. So he inclined his head slightly. She had sat back down, out of arms reach. Very clever girl. Spike was impressed by this girl. She had manners and guts. Maybe he wouldn't double cross her, today.
Spike stood shakily. Willow backed away from him. Spike watched the girl grab her weapons. She had a decidedly light touch. Spike had been lucky. The pain had burned through him, but she hadn't splintered the wood on the way out. They could have been here all night searching for the splinters. Now she sat on the wood strewn floor, hands covered in his blood, clutching her bag of stakes.
"Yes. Apparently about two quarts of my own are staining the cement floor."
Spike blinked in surprise. The girl was actually offering her blood to him! Damned brave of her. Spike moved forward very slowly as not to frighten her. < Quiet little lamb to the slaughter. > Placing his hands around her waste, he felt her shiver slightly. He smiled at her closed eyes. His fangs slid down and he brushed her throat with them, so she could feel the almost warmth of his breath.
Willow had never felt anything like that before. It was as if her life force had been flowing out of her. She opened her eyes slowly, blushing at the remembered feeling of his lips on her throat. Pulling her shirt up to cover the two small wounds that she knew were there, she watched him approach the door.
Spike was angry with himself. He had had a perfect opportunity to kill one of the Slayer's friends. And he hadn't touched her. < Well that wasn't entirely true. > Spike thought of the girl's warm blood. It had been sweet with fear and bravery mixed giving it an exotic feel. That was one hell of a girl! < Bit of a tease, really. Offering her blood and all. >
Footsteps came closer. The flashlight hit him full in the face. Spike snarled. Then he spotted the intruder. It was one of Buffy's little minions. She gasped when she saw him. Her body quivered, fighting the urge to flee. < Brave girl. >
He nodded. "Willow. Well now that the pleasantries are over, I can kill you without fear of bad manners."
"Wait! You ah, can't kill me!"
"Why? You're not tender enough? You have sour blood? Look I've heard them all and I have failed to find a bad batch of blood yet. And another thing." Spike walked over to the wall. Flicking a switch, the lights went on. "Vampire's have to pay their electric bills same as everyone else. This isn't some third rate horror flick you know."
Sheepishly, Willow turned off the flashlight. She came down off the stairs brandishing her little water gun full of holy water. "I don't want any trouble. I just wanted to know what happened."
"The good guys won. The bad guys were defeated. Except for me of course. Some people just aren't as easy to kill as others." Spike advanced on the little red head.
"Oh." She raised the water gun. "Well, what about Angel?"
Spike seemed surprise. "You mean, you don't know. Didn't the Slayer tell you?"
The floor creaked, as Spike took another step forward. Willow backed up. The floor groaned. Spike stopped advancing. Willow took that as a good sign. Escape was looking good. She backed up another step. Two more steps and she was back on the stairs. Spike raised his hands.
"Stop." He growled.
"Wh-why?" She stammered.
"Do you want to die?" Spike concentrated on listening to the floor.
"No." Sarcasm dripped from the word.
Spike would have smiled in appreciation, but he was too busy concentrating. < Was that little cracking noises he heard. > "Then don't move. The floor is going to go any second."
"Oh right." Willow threw her hands up in the air. "Like I am really going to fall for that one! The floor's collapsing. Stand perfectly still. That'll make it a whole lot easier to kill you."
"Do you think I need tricks to kill?" Spike was insulted.
She glared at him. Then very slowly took a step backward.
The floor screamed in protest. Wood cracked, splintered and fell. Spike tried to back away, but he was caught up in the floor's movement. Spike heard Willow scream and then he smashed into the ground. Willow crashed down on top of him.
The girl stared at him. Her wide green eyes flashing in confusion. Dirt was smeared down her face, accentuating her pale flesh. She was almost attractive, in a childlike way. Spike graced her with an explanation.
"I am almost impaled. By all rights I should be a pile of dust." He indicated the bloody hole in his shirt.
She moved closer, an almost sympathetic look on her face. Then she realized what she was doing. "Some people aren't as easily killed as others." She mimicked. "I could finish you off." She exclaimed, with mock bravado.
He laughed again, coughing when blood filled his lungs. If he were still alive he would be drowning in his own blood. As it was, it just hurt like hell. "Then how would you get out of this hole? Kill me. Kill yourself."
Spike's eyes seemed to be laughing at her. "That's right love, you find us a way out." Pain also lurked in those icy blue eyes. He could probably last forever that way. In pain, never healing. That chunk of wood flooring would prevent the wound from ever closing up. An eternity of pain, just on the edge of death.
Willow stomped on that train of thought. < Get out first. Worry about Spike later. Worry about Spike?? > Willow shook her head to clear it. The room they were in wasn't very large. Chunks of wood floor were everywhere. It was like stakes 'r' us in the little room. If she were Buffy, she'd stake Spike without a second thought. < Why wouldn't I? >
Willow moved towards the only door. Shoving chunks of flooring out of the way, she pushed the door. It wouldn't budge. She tried pulling it. It wouldn't even pretend to move. Frustrated, Willow kicked it.
"Solid Steel. You can't open it."
Willow spun to face him. "You could?" She demanded. Icy blue eyes met angry green.
"Yes."
Willow frowned. "I'll find another way out."
Spike smirked at the thought of himself as the devil. He'd slaughter the devil in a fair fight.
She must have looked wistful, because Spike chuckled. "Not unless you grow wings, ducks."
"It's time." He breathed.
"For what?" Willow asked, leaning against a pile of rubble.
"Yes, and I in return will rip that bloody door from it's bloody hinges."
"What's to stop you from killing me?" A thought occurred to Willow. The crow bar. She stared hard at her enemy. < Could he have helped her? >
"You have your little trinkets," He indicated the bag of stakes. "And your water gun. I am at your disposal, for the moment."
This was a hard one for Willow. Spike wasn't like Angel. He wouldn't suicide just to kill an enemy. He also could not be trusted. Her mind kept going back to the crow bar. Too far away for Buffy to have used, had Spike used it on Angel? Aren't all vampires on the same side? Like a gang, an undead gang with all for one and one for all stuff??
"Why are you here?" Willow knew the question was just delaying her decision making. "I mean, Buffy won. Wouldn't you be out searching for a new hide out?"
Spike frowned. His eyes roamed around the room. Willow turned to look when they settled. A bag sat under a pile of rubble. "There it is. That bag is what I came back for."
Willow picked up the bag. Knocking shards of wood and causing a tiny dust storm. She handed it to Spike. < Why did I just give him what he came here for?? > Willow hunched down just far enough away to be out of arms reach. He seemed as surprised as she.
The girl's face scrunched up. She was going to ask another question. Spike tried to make himself comfortable. Well as comfortable as a nearly staked vampire can make himself.
"You helped her." She stated.
Spike tilted his head. "Helped who?"
"Buffy. You helped her. You hit Angel from behind with a crow bar!"
Spike sighed. "Yes, I did."
She wasn't done yet. Willow's face was very expressive. Not a good poker face. "Why?" It sounded more like she was accusing him, then questioning.
"I had my reasons. Do we have a deal?"
Spike had to get her off that topic. He didn't exactly want to discuss his love life with one of the Slayer's little pets. Besides, he was getting weaker by the second. The girl frowned. This could take all night.
"I promise to open the door if you promise to remove the stake. Not necessarily in that order of course."
Willow stared at Spike. He helped Buffy. Spike actually turned on Angel and helped Spike. < What did Druscilla think about all that? > He could help get her out. Or he could kill her and get himself out.
"How do I know you won't turn on me, once I pull the stake?"
Spike rolled his eyes in disgust. "I think we already covered that one, love. Help me and I will help you. I promise not to hurt you. Scout's honor?" He raised to fingers in mock salute.
Willow would have sworn, but she wasn't the sort of person to swear. She just moved closer to Spike, leaving her bag and gun in a heap. Gingerly she touched the wound. Spike hissed. "Sorry."
"Just pull it out." Spike gritted his teeth.
Her fingers slipped into his flesh. Choking down her gag reflex, she grabbed the piece of wood. His flesh was slick with blood and cool. The wood was almost warm by comparison. Carefully Willow began pulling the wood out. Spike's muscles tensed and relaxed, fighting a scream. Fresh blood welled up. She had her whole hand around the chunk of wood now. With a slight tug the piece came free.
Willow fell back, the chunk in hand. She gasped as Spike's flesh reknitted itself. There was blood all around save for the patch of newly healed skin.
"O-Okay. I did my part. Now yo-you go open the door." She stammered.
The blood on her hands made her very attractive. She might make an excellent vampire someday. But not today. Spike was in a good mood now that the stake was gone. He walked to the door. Grasping it, he started to pull. The metal squealed. It bent, but it didn't open. Spike resisted the urge to fall against the door.
He grasped the handle again. The metal bulged inward again, but the hinges held. Spike slammed his fist into it. Then he gave into his weakness and slumped against the door. < Damn. Need blood. > He glanced back at Willow. "Sorry, ducks. I've lost too much blood. I can't keep my end of it."
A strange look crossed the girl's face. < Am I to be staked by this Slayer's whelp? How humiliating. And all over Dru's damned dolls. >
"You need blood."
Willow bit her lip. What she was about to do was stupid. Not just dumb, but the height of stupidity. And she should know better. But they just had to get out.
"Spike," < Shut up Willow. There's still time to find another way. > The vampire was studying her. She met his icy blue eyes. She closed her eyes deliberately. Then tilted her head, exposing her throat. Then she waited, trying not to tremble.
Willow shivered again. Embracing her, Spike bit into her throat, carefully, so he wouldn't hurt her. Then he let her blood flow into him. It flushed warmth through his system, almost making him shiver as well. Strength flowed with it. He was careful not to take too much. She had risked too much for her freedom tonight.
He left a light kiss on her throat. Then he backed slowly away from her.
Spike clasped the handle in one hand. With a slight tug, the entire door was ripped inward. It crashed to the ground. Spike grabbed his bag. Turning to her, he offered his hand. "Come on." Stunned, Willow grabbed her bag, and Spike's hand. He gently lifted her on to the door.
He led her from the house like she was a fragile doll. Mumbling something about how she might still be woozy, Spike had carried her up a flight of stairs. Once outside, he placed her carefully down. She resisted the urge to smile up at him. He was a vampire after all.
"You could have killed me." Willow stated, searching his eyes.
"Yes, but we had a deal." His eyes were unreadable.
Willow did smile at him then. "Ah, I guess I should thank you." < Thank a vampire? This is too weird. >
"You don't thank the enemy, ducks. But you are welcome. And I am gone." Spike walked off towards a dark caddy.
"Spike," He stopped. "Was Druscilla really angry?"
"Furious. Now get out of here before I change my mind and kill you." He disappeared into the car. His trench swirling around him.
Willow frowned. Confused about the whole evening, she walked home. "I hope my mom doesn't catch me all covered in blood."
He thought about going back for her. She would make an excellent vampire. With her red hair and that defiantly brave streak, any man was doomed. Maybe in a few years, he would come back for her. When she was a little older. Spike patted the bag. Until then, he had a princess to appease.