Red Violin

By Amy

Title: Red Violin (1/?)
Author: Amy
Email: [email protected]
Rating: I'd say PG at the worst.  Probably closer to G.
Disclaimer: Spike, Willow and the Buffyverse do not belong to me, they belong to Joss Whedon and company -- I'm merely dabbling.
Season: Fourth
Spoilers: Wild at Heart, Lover's Walk is mentioned
Classification: Spike/Willow ~ coexisting, wary acquaintances, not quite friends -- you get the picture.
Distribution: If it's wanted -- sure, please ask me so I know where it's going.
Feedback: Yes please, be kind -- it's my first Buffyverse fanfic, though not my first try at fanfic writing.  Flames not welcomed ~ if you hated it, I'd much rather not know :->

Summary: Takes place in an Alternate Universe version of Wild at Heart -- what if Spike had been the one to rescue Willow from the street instead of Riley.

Author's Note #1: Hey all, I've been lurking in the shadows for a while enjoying the wonderful fic and working a little here and there on my own.  Trying to work up the guts to send something out -- a big chicken that's me, yep.  I'm Amy, 21, live in nowhereville Wisconsin, hate winter and love Willow and Spike together and separately.  Have been watching the show sporadically through the years and just when I really get into it this summer it switches to the channel I don't have :-(  So I begged a friend in LA to tape for me and I'm happy -- though usually four to six weeks behind -- but I'll survive.  Caught up right now am splurging by reading all the new digests until I no longer can without being spoiled <sigh> Anyway enough babbling onto the fic now.

Author's Note #2: This is not beta'd, sorry.  I just decided at the very last minute to send this to the list -- well truthfully I just worked up the guts to do it so I'm going with it. :-)

Author's Note #3: This is just a short little story in probably 2 or 3 parts, shouldn't be any longer.  I had intended it to only be one but this is as far as I got tonight and I'm sleepy :-)

Author's Note #4: This has nothing to do with the movie of the same name -- I just liked the title.

<<indicates thoughts>>
~ ~ ~

     A cool breeze ruffled her hair and caused the leaves to swarm
around her feet, it cut through her thin shirt and ripped at her skin.
She did not feel it, wrapped so deeply in a layer of depression and
pain, she didn't even see that night was falling, that soon the
monsters of the shadows and night would rise.  Willow blinked and
brought her arms tighter around her, coming out of her fog long enough
to register that she was a little too close to one of the local
cemeteries for comfort with sundown falling.  Then she discovered she
no longer cared.

     She had stopped caring the minute she had run from the crypt, run
from Oz.  It was still unreal to her, that she had found him wrapped in
the arms of another woman, that he had cheated on her and then had the
gall to throw her past indiscretions in her face.  Like one little kiss
with Xander a year earlier would compare to what he had done -- what
they had.  She blinked against the blur of tears that prickled her eyes
and started walking again.  She had been walking since that morning,
not seeing where she was going, not caring that she had missed her
classes, not caring about anything but that the constant movement kept
the thoughts and feelings of him at bay.  It kept her sane.

     She started walking again, turning away from the cemetery towards
the middle of downtown, carefully picking a way that wouldn't take her
in front of the Bronze before tucking herself once more in her fog.  It
was too soon to see anything that reminded her of him, it was too soon
to do anything but hurt.  And she did hurt, underneath the fog she felt
like she was dying.  Like someone had torn her heart out through her
chest and was now holding it beating in front of her.

     <<Nice imagery Wills -- nice and fluffy and cute -- just the type
of thing you should be thinking about after catching your boyfriend in
the sack with another woman, or non-woman, or -- wolfy-woman.>>

     The truth hit her like a ton of bricks, she clutched her stomach
in pain as the full impact of Oz's actions finally deposited itself in
the pit.  He had cheated on her, with one of his own kind.  He'd loved
her with his heart and soul and in the end it hadn't mattered -- she
just wasn't good enough, in the end she wasn't what he needed.  This
thing with Veruca would be over for him tomorrow with the end of the
full moon, if she hadn't of caught them she probably never would have
known about it.  So it was over for him -- for them, until the next
full moon, until the next werewolf crossed his path, because deep
inside she would never be enough for him.  She could never be.

     The pain intensified as she finally let go of the tears she had
been holding back all day.  They flowed freely and painfully, she
hadn't realized that she had turned onto a busy avenue, didn't pay
attention to the people she bumped into as she hurried down the block
or the looks they were giving her.  She just needed to get away, away
from the truth, away from the pain.

     <<Away.>>

     The pain reaching almost dizzying proportions she swerved to the
side and burst out into the middle of the street.  She froze as a light
enveloped her, a bright light that seemed to get brighter with ever
second and a low roaring sound.  She blinked, suddenly realizing that
it was a pair of headlights, and they were attached to a fancy car --
that was heading straight for her.  She couldn't move, couldn't think
about anything but the fact that the car bearing down on her was silver
and that she -- slayerette and witch, who had faced death numerous
times at the hands of monsters and demons ~ was going to meet her end
in the middle of downtown Sunnydale.

     <<Oh God -- no.  Oz>>
                                              ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

     <<What in the world is that little Witch doing?>>

     Spike's thoughts were idle as he followed the redhead from a short
distance behind.  He'd been following her for about 30 minutes since he
had first discovered her wandering aimlessly around Sunnydale.  She
didn't seem to notice she was being tailed.  She didn't seem to notice
much of anything actually, like the fact that night had fallen and she
was all by her lonesome.

     <<The better to eat you with my dear...>>

     He grinned, then frowned as she turned onto a brightly lit main
avenue.  So far she had shunned populated places, sticking to the dark
side streets and wandering too close to cemeteries.  There didn't seem
to be any real pattern to her wandering, just endless circles, he had
noticed that she avoided all roads that would lead to the Bronze.  He
hadn't know what possessed him to follow her, maybe he was bored maybe
his demon was planning to use her to get to Buffy, he didn't know and
it bothered him, here he was following the Slayer's little friend
around like a puppy -- like Angel.  He became momentarily distracted by
a sleek silver convertible turning onto the street several blocks down,
that car was beautiful, modern and in pristine condition.  There were
also several young and tasty looking morsels laughing it up, the top
was down and they were having fun.

     <<Probably Daddy's car.>>

     Then without warning, Willow veered out into the street.  He
frowned and shook his head in confusion before turning his attention
back to the car that was hurrying down the street ignoring the posted
speed limits and the milling people on the crowded street.  Hurrying
down the street towards the spot where Willow had run out.  His eyes
swung back to the redhead who was rooted in spot starting at the
headlights that were approaching her.  Looking for all the world like a
startled deer or rabbit blinded by the lights.  Hypnotized enough to
stand there and stare dazzled into their deaths.

     <<Bloody Hell!>>

     "Hey!" He bellowed, drawing the startled stairs of surrounding
people to him and the redhead in the middle of the street.  No one made
any move to stop the impending disaster -- even those who were is the
position to do so, some even turned their heads and hurried away.  The
growl was low in his throat, he couldn't understand what was coming
over him -- he had already tried to kill this child and her friends on
numerous occasions why should he stop this now, the Slayer and her
chums would be devastated, leaving Sunnydale ripe for the pickings.
But somehow the only thing he could think of were the deep green eyes
that had stared at him in terror in the warehouse -- the spitfire who
had stood up to him, even with the broken bottle in his hand.  She
shouldn't die like this -- she should at least die by his hand.
"Willow!"

     Her head cocked slightly as she caught the sound of her name, but
she made no other move.  He didn't give her time to react, instead he
growled and threw himself at the stunned girl.  The weight of his
impact throwing them both to the ground.  He rolled effortlessly to
cradle her fall but he wasn't quick enough to prevent her from slightly
knocking her head.  He barely registered the squealing of tires as the
frightened kids finally put on their breaks sending the car into a
tailspin, screams ripped through the air as it ended with a metallic
crunch into a light post.

     Spike moved his weight quickly, knowing he must be crushing her
slight frame.  Looking down at her he frowned at the gash that was now
marring her pale skin and the red trickle of blood seeping slowly out
of it.  His demon rattled for a taste but he ignored it, instead
reached into one of his duster pockets and pulled out an expensive
monogrammed handkerchief he had taken as a token from his last meal.
Brushing the tendril of fiery hair off her face he gently pressed it to
the cut.

     She groaned in pain, her eyes fluttered open and floated
unfocusedly around until they landed on him.  She blinked a few times
before recognition sunk into them, a look of terror was quickly
replaced by one of confusion as she realized he was tending her wound.
"Spike?" she muttered before unconsciousness claimed her.

     He laid her gently to the ground, and stood so he could slide out
of his duster.  He was no longer fully conscious of his thoughts, just
knew he needed to get her out of there.  Somewhere safe, some where he
could figure out what the heck was going on.  Her face was streaked
with tears and the pain was radiating from her ~ something had happened
to her but what?

     "Oh God, oh God, oh God!"  A frightened, high-pitched squeak of a
voice echoed behind him, he slowly turned towards the voice a growl
tight in his throat as he stared at the scared blonde girl.  She was
disheveled but seemed okay she pulled her sweater around her body and
swallowed as she looked at the hard face of the man standing in front
of her and the woman lying lifeless on the ground.  "Is she okay?"

     "No thanks to you," he said tightly.  Moving effortlessly to wrap
Willow in his duster he glared up at her, "next time you sneak Daddy's
auto out for a spin you should take the time to actually look where
your going instead of playing with the radio dial."  As gently as
possible he lifted the redhead into his arms and glared over the
blonde's shoulder to the crunched car and the two other girls who
looked as scared as she.

     The blonde opened her mouth then shut it, something about the man
in front of her scared her.  There was a coldness radiating off of him,
a hardness and danger and he didn't look very happy.  He had the woman
cradled against his chest and she swore she heard growling.  "I -- I
didn't see her."

     "Obviously."

     "She wasn't there when we turned on the street and then suddenly
she was and she didn't move -- I thought she would get out of the way!
Please -- I didn't mean it!"  She glanced over shoulder and swallowed
again.  "My father's going to kill me."

     "I'm sure he has plenty of insurance," Spike drawled carelessly.

     She reached a shaky hand into her purse as she suddenly remembered
something.  "Oh he does -- here, this is the card.  Have -- have her
call the number on it when she wakes up."

     "*If* she wakes up," he growled for a moment his demon visage
slipped out and his golden eyes glittered out at her before vanishing
again, she gasped in horror, her hand fluttering some more.  "You
better hope she does," he said smoothly as he batted the card out of
her hand and strode off into the night before he could question what he
was doing.

     <<Well mate -- this is certainly an interesting situation you've
gotten yourself into.>>
                                              ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

~ ~ ~

     She was floating, floating on a soft fluffy cloud, free of all
worries and cares, of all pain and anguish -- she was free.  But even
in her cocoon of comfort the ever sane side of her was buzzing, people
just don't forget everything and stop feeling, people just don't float.
 Unless they were levitating.  Could that be possible, was she
levitating herself, was she actually powerful enough to do that?  So
far she hadn't been able to float anything bigger then a pencil, or if
she concentrated really hard she could move a paper back romance novel
a few inches, but only one of those really thin Harlequin Romance kind
and she had a headache for days afterwards.  Except -- well, there had
been a few times when she was in the amidst of some supreme emotion or
passion that she'd been able to move things without thinking about it
without feeling any pain afterwards.  It had saved her neck several
times in a fight but she had never been able to control it afterwards,
which was too bad, as the least agile of the gang she could sometimes
use all the help she could get.  So was that what it was -- was she
feeling so much emotion that she was floating herself.

     <<But what could you possibly have to feel emotional about Wills
-- you're floating -- you feel nothing -- you're free.>>

     Scrunching her eyes tightly she winced as the truth came back to
her, flashes of Oz intertwined with Veruca, the slap in the face of his
words afterwards, the despair and anguish of the feelings that
followed.  So she did have something emotional going on but was that
enough?  She slowly opened her eyes, wanting to see herself floating
above the ground and hoping that by opening her eyes she could chase
away the memories.

     Slicing pain met her when she let her eyes fluter open, intense
physical pain that seemed to start at her temple and then moved over
her entire head, stronger then any headache she had ever experienced
before.  She closed her eyes against the pain, praying that the fog
would reclaim her but quickly decided that the physical pain was easier
to handle then the mental pain of the memories that came flooding back.
 She focused her eyes on the room around her and once disappointed and
relieved that she wasn't floating, merely laying on an extremely
comfortable couple of mattresses curled snugly in a cocoon of blankets,
sheets and pillows.

     She struggled against the blankets into a sitting position,
blinding waves of pain shot through her and she instinctually brought
her hand up to her forehead to try to quell the pain.  Her fingers met
with the softness of a bandage and continued moving, discovering that
her forehead was bandaged snugly and that her touch was so intense that
it almost felt like a burn.  She winced and dropped her hand, focusing
her addled brain on trying to remember what happened.  She remembered
running from Oz and wandering for hours around Sunnydale, remembered
running out into the street, headlights pinning her -- marking her for
death, someone calling her name and a body throwing itself at hers.
Then a face, a face she knew she should recognize with concerned eyes
-- and then nothing.  Then waking up here...

     <<Where ever *here* is...>>

     Here seemed to be a small, windowless room.  Hard concrete floors,
ceiling and bare walls painted white.  A single naked lightbulb swung
from a chain on the ceiling bathing the entire room in stark white
light, it glistened off the simple card table a chairs sitting empty in
the middle of the room.  Her bed was simply two mattresses placed on
the floor directly across from her was a door.  She stood slowly,
wobbling against the pain and her unused legs.  With deliberately slow
moves she made her way across to the door.  Not knowing where here was,
or remembering how she had gotten there she knew her only option was to
get out -- to get somewhere safe, her friends were probably worrying
about her.  Oz was probably...

     <<Wrapped in another's arms...>>

      She shook her head, chasing the thoughts away and ignoring the
pain she didn't have time for that she needed to figure out what was
going on.  She reached for the simple door knob and turned it ready to
face whatever was on the other side.  The knob didn't budge, it jangled
slightly but didn't turn, didn't do much of anything but sit there --
locked.  She frowned and tried again, still nothing, it just glistened,
mocking her.  Fear bubbling up in her she tugged frantically at the
useless piece of mental and tried to concentrate all her mental
abilities on the door.  All her troubles got her was an intense shock
of pain that caused her to slump forward into the door, whimpering.

     <<No, no, no -- this isn't happened -- think Wills think.  Ooo
pain, too much pain, what happened?>>

     She looked back around the room, trying to remember more from the
previous night.  It was obvious that whoever had rescued her had
brought her back here and locked her in this simple room.  Remembering
who it was, was the key.  She moved slowly away from the door, hoping
for something -- anything -- to jump out at her, but the room was so
simple and sparse that she felt she was facing a futile challenge.

     She almost didn't see it, it was folded neatly on one of the four
folding chairs near the card table.  A lump of black in a room of white
it still almost blended into the wood work.  She moved as quickly as
her head allowed, picking it up and unfolding it.  It was long and
leather -- and familiar, very familiar.

     <<Spike.>>

     She swallowed hard as the missing pieces of her memory came back.
A familiar British accent calling her name, a strong body throwing to
her the ground and trying to block the fall.  A pair of crystal blue
eyes looking down at her in concern as he gently tended to the wound on
her face.  He hadn't looked very much like a demon in that moment, just
a very scared man.  She brought the duster to her face, taking in the
smell of the dusty leather, not the smell of something warmed by the
sun but something that lived in the darkness and taken care of.  It hit
her that the piece of leather she was holding could very well be older
then her.

     "Well, I see Sleeping Beauty finally awakens," came a dry
sarcastic voice behind her.  At least on the outside it seemed dry and
sarcastic but Willow thought she heard an undertone of relief to it.

     She gasped at the sound of the familiar voice, the force of the
pain that accompanied her foolish move sending her to the concrete
floor.  Spike took a step towards her but stopped when she cringed away
from him.  Her breathing erratic she regarded the man -- demon --
vampire who had saved her life and almost laughed.  How many times had
he tried to kill Buffy, to kill her?  Too many to count.  "Spike?  Wha
-- what do you want?  A spell?" Her voice sounded dry and cracked to
her ears, it almost hurt to form the words.

     He took another step closer to her and very slowly crouched
opposite of her, he seemed to ignore her words instead his blue eyes
examined her intently before carefully holding out a blue plastic cup
in her direction.  She almost laughed at him again, he looked like
someone who was approaching an injured puppy who might lash out and
bite them.  "Here," he said, gesturing with the glass.  "Drink this --
it'll make your throat feel better."

     She regarded him warily, thinking over the myriad of things that
could be in the glass before gingerly accepting it from him.  For a
moment their fingers touched a spark shot through her before she
quickly pulled her hand back, he stayed in his crouch position still
watching her but not moving.  She brought the glass to her nose and
sniffed delicately, she didn't smell anything funny, but one could
never be too careful with Spike.  Still he had had ample opportunities
to kill her and by the erratic beating of her heart and the pain she
was enduring it was clear she was still very much alive and human.
Slowly bring the glass to her lips she took a sip, nearly sputtering as
the cool, crisp water flowed down her throat.  She looked back at him,
green eyes luminous in her pale skin, "It's water," she said quietly.

     He stared at her, running his hands over his dusty black jeans and
slowly rising to his feet.  "Very good luv, what were you expecting it
to be -- blood?"

     "Well, I -- I didn't know -- I don't know anything anymore." She
whimpered softly.

     He held out his hand towards her, "Why don't you get back in bed,
you still look weak."  She slinked back from him.  "Come on Willow, if
I was going to kill you I could have done it when you were unconscious
-- I didn't need to knock you out of the street at all."

     She bit her bottom lip, knowing his words were true but her
instinct to run from him was almost as strong.  She decided to
compromise with him, using the card table she brought herself to a
standing position and walked slowly back to the bed without his
assistance.  He let her go, but managed to give her a small eye roll.
Sinking relieved back to the soft mattresses she pulled the blankets
around her and stared up at him.  He had moved to sit in one of the
chairs near the table.  "How long have I been -- asleep?"

     "About twenty-four hours." He said smoothly, he picked up the
duster that had gotten dropped in all the commotion and meticulous
smoothed out the wrinkles.

     "Oh God -- everyone must be worried, I should go," She stood,
swayed and crumpled back to the bed.

     "You're not going anywhere until morning, you're head should be a
little clearer by then."

     She thought about arguing with him but decided to let it go, she
was tired and if what he said was true it was night again, she didn't
feel like facing another night of wandering.  Especially since most
nasties would be so forgiving as he had proven.  "Why?"

     He heaved a heavy, though unnecessary, sigh and searched through
his pockets for a crumpled, half empty pack of cigs before turning his
attention back to her.  "I just explained why in very plain English
that even a bloody American should be able to comprehend.  It's the
middle of the night and you're in no shape to be traipsing around the
mouth of hell.  I have no mind to rescue you're skinny butt again, my
hero quota has been filled for this century."  With another eye roll,
he lit up a cigarette and took an irritated drag.

     She noticed his irritation and the fact that he freely admitted to
playing the hero.  "No -- I meant why *did* you rescue me, you could
have let the car hit me, it would have for sure distracted Buffy
leaving Sunnydale open."  He shrugged his shoulders taking another drag
and fidgeted with the plastic container.  It hit Willow in that moment
that he didn't have the faintest idea why he saved her and that it was
probably best not to question it.  "Well, thanks -- I mean, thank you."
 She said softly, he looked up at her in surprise.  "What?  Just 'cause
you've tried to kill me before doesn't mean I can't thank you for
preventing it now does it."

     He shrugged again, "don't know Luv, usually when I try to kill
people they end up dead -- so I've never run into this problem before."
 She shuddered at his words and just watched him, the silence dragged
on for a few seconds, him finishing his cigarette and her watching him.
 He slipped the package back into his duster and turned towards her.
"So do you want to tell me what you were doing playing in the middle of
the street?  Hasn't Mommy warned you about that?"

     She blinked at him blankly for a few moments and he waited for
some intelligent cut to come from those pretty lips of her, that spark
he had glimpsed briefly in the warehouse to ignite.  Instead there was
nothing for those few seconds and then she seemed to crumple in on
herself.  Her face fell, her eyes filled with tears and she didn't
bother to brush the few that fell away as she started down at her hand.
 When she finally answered his question, her voice was so quite that
even with his demonic hearing he had to lean to catch it, but the pain
that laced her words reverberated off the stark walls.  "Oz," she
stated simply.

     "The wolf?  What about him -- I thought you two had gotten back
together after that thing with the puppy."  She looked up at him,
started that he knew so much about what had happened.  "What -- you
really don't think I let life on the Hellmouth with you twits go
unchecked -- I know ever move you make, every word that you say, ever
tear that you shed.  I know your pasts, your present and your hopes for
the future -- as pitiful as they may be.  You want to control your
powers and marry the wolf -- so what happened?"

     "He --I..." she sniffled, she was openly crying now the memories
coming full force.  "I went to see him in the crypt where he stays
during the full moon -- it's at Eastmen -- and it's very nice, well for
a crypt -- he has a cage down there -- where he stays, when he gets
wolfy.  It's probably not a comfortable or warm as the book cage in the
school library -- but you know, kind of hard for him to stay there --
cause, well, the school blew up and all.  And..."

     He interrupted her smoothly, "Willow -- you went to see him and?"

     That brought her attention back to what she had been avoiding.
"Oh yeah."  She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and glanced up
at him.  "I went to see him and I found -- when I got there, he was
sleeping -- and he was with, he was with *her*."  Spike felt one of his
hands clench at his side and stared down at it.  "Veruca, all without
her clothes and snotty."

     "It was the full moon -- he was a wolf -- how did she manage to
survive the encounter?" He asked already knowing the answer.

     She moved on and for a little while he thought she hadn't heard
his question.  "When I first met her I thought, I thought she was just
a faze of his, that she was beautiful and she was into the music thing,
they had stuff that they could talk about.  Not stuff like *we* talked
about -- but still different stuff.  Sure he looked at her a little
lustylike and it was hard drawing his attention when she was in the
room or nearby but I thought -- I just thought it was a crush, I've
looked at other guys before without it being a big deal.  And Buffy
thought it was just a faze too -- that in a few days it would be all
over and done with -- that's what I thought too."  Her face crumbled
again.

     "You're sure that's all you thought, luv?" he asked her quietly.

     "Yes -- I would never think anything bad about him -- he loved me,
I knew that every minute of the day -- just like he knew that I loved
him."

     "But you felt something, in the room when they were together --
something underlining it -- making it more tangible.  More dangerous?"

     "I just told you that no I..." she looked over at him where he was
staring at her intently a look of knowing in his blue eyes, she bit her
bottom lip and sighed the looked back up at him.  "Yes -- I knew that
something was different about what was going on between them."

     "It's animal magnetism -- that call of the wild to a mate of your
own kind.  Most of the demons have it."

     "But he is human."

     "He's a werewolf, Willow." He said pointedly.  "The wolf is very
strong -- especially since he doesn't have control over it, makes it
stronger -- gives it more power.  If he controlled it the pull would
have been there but it wouldn't have been as strong."

     "She was in control -- and she was very wolfy." Willow said sadly.

     "She was that way because she wanted to be, because she thrived on
the power and the control.  I've met others who've been completely
human -- the wolf had almost no hold on them except when they let it
out for the full moon.  It's all a matter of the choice."

     Her eyes brightened knowingly as she realized something, "Like you
and Angelus -- you have control over your demon, most of the time
anyway, until you want it and he was pretty much the demon all the
time."

     "I guess -- though you really didn't need bring *him* up."

     "Sorry, I just wanted to tell you that I understood your point."

     He stared over at her, waiting and as expected her face crumpled
again, "knowing what it was doesn't make it any better -- or any
easier."

     She nodded slowly, "It makes it worse.  Because no matter how much
he loves me I can never be enough for him -- I'm not what he is, I'll
never be what he is."

     "When he gets control of the wolf he'll get control of these urges
-- this is not that important, as you said he loves you."

     "I don't want that to be something he needs to control -- and it's
not like it's really something you *can* control.  Sure, if there's not
another werewolf around it's fine -- but what if we run into another
one -- how can I be sure?  I can't live like that -- and I can't be
what he needs."

     "So you'll give him up and find someone else," he said simply,
suddenly very uncomfortable with this conversation.

     "I can't be with him and I don't think I can be without him." She
said softly.

     He shrugged.  "Sometimes you don't have any choice in the matter."
He said bitterly, she knew he was thinking of Dru.

    She looked down at her hands again, then took a deep breath and
looked back up at him.  He felt a sinking in the pit of his stomach as
he looked at her, there was a sad glint in her eyes that hadn't been
there before.  She stood up slowly and walked towards him, her face was
firm and filled with resolve.  He instinctually backed away from her as
she wobbled over to his chair, when she reached him she sank to her
knees placed a hand lightly onto his legs and did the last thing he
ever expected her to do.  She leaned close and offered her neck to him.

     His eyes widened as he realized what she was offering what she
wanted him to do, his demon was more then willing it growled and tried
to force itself to the forefront to take the proffered meal.  It took
every ounce of control he had to stand and push himself back from the
table, he glared at her.  "What the bloody hell do you think you're
doing?" he growled.

     She stood slowly, her eyes glittering with tears as she took a
step towards him.  "You know what I was doing."

     He snarled and began furiously pacing a few feet away from her.
"You know, I thought you were the smart one.  Leave the foolishness up
to that puppy and leave the *teasing* up to the Slayer."

     She crossed to him, stopping him with a hand on his chest, she
implored him to look at her with his eyes, to hear what she was saying.
 "I'm not teasing Spike -- I want you -- I want you to feed.  I want
you to kill me, now, like you've wanted to for two years."

     "You have no idea what you're asking, witch."

     "Yes -- yes I do.  I know that I can't go on without him -- he's a
part of me, without him I'm lost." She whispered.

     He hissed and pushed her away from him, then thought again and
grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back over to the bed.  Pushing
her down to the pillows, he growled at her, his demon glittering out at
her.  "I think you hit your head harder then I thought -- get some
rest, we'll talk when you've got your mind back."

     "I am thinking straight, Spike -- I don't see what the big deal
about this is for you!  You've tried to kill me before, if we had met
under completely different circumstances this time you would have tried
to kill me -- right?  Right?" She demanded hotly, and despite his anger
and confusion he was amused by the fire in her eyes, since she was
looking at him expectantly he nodded his concession.  "So this should
be a perfect opportunity for you, we both get what we want.  You get
your revenge on the Slayer -- on Buffy and I," she paused and took a
breath.  "I don't need to go on without Oz."

     "You silly chit," he growled intensely.  "You're talking with your
heart and not your head -- be glad you played this foolish hand in
front of me and not some other vampire."  He turned and shook his head,
and muttered "you'd already be dead by now."

     "I'm not playing, I know what I'm asking -- I want you to kill
me."

     "You want me to help you commit suicide -- I'm not going to help
you do it little girl."

     "Why not?" She asked with a sigh.

     "Because it's not what you really want, you're hurting and you'll
get over it -- and you'll regret your choice later on.  It's why
suicide victims make the worst vampires."

    "Don't you understand -- I don't want you to turn me, I just want
to die," she whispered painfully.

     "You're even more foolish then I thought if you think I'm going to
let you go.  That fire and passion deserve to live eternal not wither
away in the cold ground.  When you're turned -- when I turn you, and I
will someday -- you'll go unwilling and fighting."

     "You don't make any sense -- you talk about not helping me now and
then threaten my untimely death in the future all in the same breath.
What difference does it make?"

     "It makes a difference, a big difference.  I've learn from my past
mistakes and I won't repeat them," he said coldly.

     Willow's eyes teared as she heard the finality in his voice, her
safest possible choice was leaving her -- she reached out to turn his
face towards hers again.  "Please, Spike.  Please."
 
     He heaved another sigh and looked at her pleading eyes, he let a
finger run down her neck and slid into game face, making sure she saw
him do it.  She whimpered and closed her eyes, leaning her neck to the
side for him.  He growled as he lowered his head, waiting until she
shuddered before pulling back.  "You don't really want this Willow,
take it from someone who's already dead, you don't want this."

     She whimpered, tears appearing on the edges of her tightly shut
eyes.  She nodded her head, finally accepting what he said as the
truth, but that truth still hurt.  "I don't know how I'm going to go
on," she whispered softly.

     He allowed himself to brush a lock of hair off her forehead as his
human face slid smoothly back into place, pushing his own questions as
far back into his head as he could.  "You'll go on because you have to
-- it's just the way it is."

     She nodded again, "I don't like it."

     "Life sucks -- so does unlife for that matter, but death is
probably even worse."  She cracked a small smile.  "You're strong
you'll get through it.  But I'll make you a deal -- if 5 years from now
you haven't gotten back together with him," she screwed her face in a
grimace.  "Hey stranger things have happened, this is the Hellmouth and
if you think life sucks -- try love.  But if you haven't gotten back
together with him or moved on -- and you still think you can't live
without him -- then look me up and I'll take you up on your offer."

     "If you don't kill me first," she said with an almost grin.

     "Yeah -- if I don't kill you first," he answered back a smart
smirk on his face.

     She stared at him in amazement, she was surprised she was still
alive after practically offering herself to him on a silver platter.
She was also glad -- maybe she would get through this okay, with a
little help from her friends and a lot of work and time.  "Has anyone
ever told you that you defy description?" she asked suddenly, it was
odd having a semi-normal conversation with a sworn enemy, that had only
happened one other time with.  And he had been stone drunk at the time
and doing most of the talking and holding a broken bottle to her face.
He stared at her blankly, raising an eyebrow at her in confusion.
"That you're strange -- not a normal vampire."

     "Once or twice, luv -- Angelus loved to torment me with it.  Never
fit the mold -- never much wanted to."

     "You sound almost proud about that."

     "I should be -- defying Angelus and living to tell about it
doesn't happen very often -- I've done in numerously.  Of course the
fact that Dru was soft on me probably helped, oh sure he beat the crap
out of me most of the time -- but it could have been worse -- he could
have torn be limb from bloody limb like he really wanted to.  "It's a
mark of honor."

     She grimaced at the picture, "If you say so Spike."

     He rolled his eyes and handed her the glass, "here finish this."
He watched as she did as she was told then took the empty cup and
placed it on the table before turning back to her and checked her
bandage.  When he was satisfied that it was okay he looked down at her
face finding her looking up at him with a look the clearly said she had
something she wanted to say but was holding back.  "What is it now,
luv?"

     "I -- I was just wondering how you learned to do all this -- not
exactly a big call for it in your line of work."

     "We get cut and bruised just the same as you do," he said simply.

     "But you heal faster, not enough time to bandage everything up I
would think."

     "We do work with an assortment of humans from time to time where
their services are needed and they tend to get banged up.  Most
vampire's are not exactly what you'd call the most patient of bosses."

     "You mean -- like," she lowered her voice to a whisper and he
leaned in to listen. "like concubines."

     He grinned at her flushed expression, "well yes, luv -- there is
that service but there's others options as well.  The world is not
exactly set up for nightwalkers, luv before the modern age of computers
and home delivery -- banks and the like were only opened during the
day."  She nodded at the obvious.  "There's also that pesky,
invitation-only think -- humans don't have that problem so it's nice to
have workers around."

     Her eyes widened.  "There are vampire's who actually do that?  I
thought those that burn houses down around their victims were bad
enough but to send a human in..." she shuddered then turned a sharp eye
on him.  "Have *you* done that?" she demanded.

     He looked very nonchalant as he nodded.  "I've done a little bit
of everything, Luv and so has your pal Angelus.  Don't look at me like
that, you know very well what I am -- what I do -- what I *eat*."

     She frowned at him, then decided to go back to a cleaner subject.
"So you learned how to do this for your human -- followers?"

     He reached out and adjusted the bandage again.  "Well, not really,
Mum wanted me to be a doctor, we were poor but she always thought I was
smart enough to make something of myself should I just put my mind to
it.  I was actually training to be a doctor when I was in the service.

    "I -- I always thought you just killed people, William the Bloody
and all..."

     "Well, that was before all *Bloody* hell broke loose," he said
with a grin at his pun, she just groaned.  "How does your head feel?
You don't look as peaked as you did before."

     She brought her had up to her head and looked a little surprise,
"I'd forgotten all about this in everything that's been happening.  I
guess it still hurts but not as much as it did before."

     "Good -- I think you'll be okay."

     "Thank you go your diagnosis, Dr. the Bloody," she said smartly.

     He shook his head, "you press your luck, little girl.  Get some
sleep."

     "I'm fine, I really think I should go now, not that you haven't
been very kind -- in a strange, really scary kind of way -- but Buffy
and the others will be worried about me -- I've been gone for over a
day."

     "Make them wait -- it'll do them some good to worry, they'll be so
happy to see you they'll be your slaves for a month."

     "I don't want that!" she said.

     "It's still the middle of the night and just because you're
feeling better doesn't mean that you really are.  After everything I've
gone through to keep you alive I'm not about to let anything else get
you.  I'm the only one who gets to kill you." The last part was said
with such possessive finality that she almost shivered at his words.

     "I'll be fine."

     "Just wait until morning.  Veruca will be looking for you Willow,
she sees you as a threat for her mate -- you're not ready to face her."

     "The third night was yesterday, she's not a wolf anymore." Willow
said simply.

     "I don't think that'll matter -- as I said she sees you as a
threat -- she'll do anything to eliminate you."

     Willow shuddered, having just decided she really didn't want to
die she didn't really feel like facing it again so soon.  She didn't
think that Veruca would be as forgiving as Spike was.  She eased
herself back onto the bed and burrowed under the blankets.  "Maybe
another nights sleep here, without any distractions will do me good,"
she said sensibly.

     Her head burrowed under the pillows she missed Spike's self
satisfied smirk as he flicked off the light and walked over to the
door.  "I have to go out and do the rounds," she looked up at him
worriedly.  "Don't worry I won't go far and I won't lock the door in
case something should happen -- just don't go anywhere until at least
dawn."

     She nodded and watched him open the door, she had been fighting
the urge to do something since she had realized that she didn't really
want him to go through with what she was offering.  "Spike," she
whispered softly knowing that he would hear her.  "Thank you -- for not
killing me.  You're right -- I didn't really want it.  I'll figure out
something -- somehow."

     He didn't say anything as he left the room, shutting the door
behind him.  He heaved one final sigh, wondering not for the first time
how something so useless made him feel so good.  He leaned against the
door and shook his head at everything that had happened and how close
he had come to breaking his personal rules and taking her up on her
offer.

     <<You're getting too bloody old for this.>>
                                               ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~