Comfort

By Cotti

Title: Comfort
Author: me. Cotti ([email protected])
Rating: G- PG-13 (mild swearing, but that's about
it)
Disclaimer: Not mine, and I don't play for keeps,
just borrowing them
when I need 'em.
Spoilers: some season four stuff, Oz is gone, but
not much more.
Distribution: ask and you shall recieve.
Note: this is a coffee byproduct/sideffect. Please
playnice, and feedback is good. very good....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Comfort
Part 1

Spike was miserable.
He was lonely, and unable to feed off humans and he
was totally,
utterly, and completely miserable.
He looked at red head from the kitchen. God she was
gorgeous. The way
her hair fell over her shoulders, like a little
waterfall of blood, the
way her green eyes flashed with hidden fire, and
power, her strength,
and most of all, her compassion drove him wild
whenever he was with her,
alone at least. When others were around he couldn’t
do anything, not
even so much as look at his dark angel, the stupid
Bitch of a Slayer
would’ve kept him tied in a chair for the rest of
his unlife, and an
uncomfortable one at that.
He smiled to himself, they were alone now, and she
looked good enough to
eat. His body screamed to be near her, to touch
her, and to comfort her.
The blithering idiots that claimed to be her
friends didn’t see how much
she hurt, didn’t know that she cried herself to
sleep, didn’t know about
those twin slashes on her wrists, the ones she hid
beneath long sleeves
and many bracelets. He knew about all of those
things, he understood it
better than anyone did; better than the selfish
‘me-me’ slayer did,
despite all her whining over his poof of a sire she
knew nothing about
true pain, didn’t grasp the briefest concepts of
pure agony and loss.
The watcher saw, but that’s all he did, not knowing
what to do or say to
comfort his straying protégé. Spike couldn’t say he
understood exactly
why none of them seemed to care about the beautiful
girl’s teetering
emotions. Frankly, he didn’t care, it left room for
him to get closer to
that beautiful woman and to make her his.
He set a mug of cocoa down in front of Willow,
sitting next to her.
“Thirsty, luv?” he asked, motioning to the drink.
“Thanks, Spike,” she sighed, trying to ignore the
torturous itch her
healing wounds were causing. She sipped the drink
and carefully
scratched at her wrists.
“Wouldn’t do that if I was you, luv, might open ‘em
up again,” Spike
said, taking her wrists and pushing back her
sleeves to see the healing
red marks. Willow looked up at him in terror, how
could he know?
“You—you won’t tell anyone, will you?” she asked
quietly, ashamed of her
own weakness.
“I haven’t yet, have I?” he smiled, crooking a
finger beneath her chin
and lifting it to meet his gaze. She shook her
head. He was glad she
trusted him, and he ran a finger over the slowly
healing wounds. Slowly,
he bit his finger, drawing blood, and squeezed a
few drops onto each of
the slash marks.
“What—what are you doing?” Willow asked nervously,
watching his fingers
spread the small amounts of blood over the wounds.
“They’ll heal faster like this, a few days and
they’ll be scars,
depending on how deep you cut…” he stopped, sucking
the blood off his
fingertip. He touched her face. “But next time,
talk to me first, okay?”

Willow smiled weakly and nodded, fighting back
tears of exhaustion.
“It just hurts so much,” she whimpered, letting a
few crystal tears fall
down her cheeks. Spike drew her into his arms, her
face buried in his
chest, her sobs coming full force.
“Shh, baby, it’s alright, I won’t let anyone hurt
you anymore…” he
stroked her hair until she quieted, looking up at
him.
“You know, don’t you?” she asked, a small smile of
understanding
touching her lips. He nodded. She snuggled up
closer to him. “How did
you—” she began, so comfortable in his arms. She
couldn’t hear his heart
beating beneath his hard chest, mainly because it
wasn’t beating, but
the idea didn’t seem to bother. She’d grown
attached to Spike, he was
always silently there, making her cocoa, helping
her with research,
touching her hair, even when he thought she didn’t
know.
“I was alone, long before Dru left.” He sighed,
stroking her hair. “I’d
gotten used to it,” he kissed the top of her head.
“There wasn’t anybody
to tell me not to do something stupid, the only
thing that kept me alive
was Buffy…” Willow’s heart sank at the mention of
the Slayer.
“You—and Buffy?” she whispered, not looking at him.
He laughed, a low
rumbled in his chest, the feeling of it comforting.
“No, pet, I hate Buffy like sunlight, which is what
kept me alive. I
wanted her dead…” he sighed, closing his eyes
against the intruding
light of the florescent lights.
“Do you still?”
“Not as much,” he admitted, the honest truth.  “I’m
more interested in
someone else now…” he looked down at her softly
breathing figure.
“Who?” she asked, her mumbling soft and the sound
dulled because she
spoke into his chest.
“A pretty little thing, a real spitfire.” He
laughed a little as she
mumbled something.
“What’s that luv?” he chuckled, touching her hair.
“Do you want her dead too?” she asked, still
speaking into his chest.
“Heavens no, she’s far too much fun to kill, plus,
I like having a warm
body in my arms,” he smiled and felt Willow smile
into his chest.
She curled her fingers around his shirt, muttering
“I hope you win her
over,” as she drifted off into a peaceful sleep.
Spike smiled, “I know I will, pet, just wait and
see.” He too, then,
succumbed to the sweet blackness of sleep.

Giles came home much later, near sunrise, battered
and bruised, and
surprisingly pleased to see Willow asleep in
Spike’s arms.
“Finally made his move, the bloody wanker.” Giles
laughed and went off
to bed himself.
*******
Part 2

Willow stirred on the couch, sunlight streaming in through the window,
she was stretched out on Giles’ couch, the same position she held when
she fell asleep the night previous, but Spike was gone. She sat up,
stretched in the morning glow, then realization dawned on her and her
eyes went wide with fear.
“Spike?” she called out, standing up and looking around Giles’ living
room. She didn’t think to check the couch cushions, or her clothes, for
ashes. “Spike?!” more urgent this time. Tears of horror and loss welled
up in her eyes, Oz forgotten for the moment, her heart ached at the
idea
that Spike was gone, that now she didn’t have anyone who understood.
“Shit,” she cried, her voice wavering. Fury rose in her stomach, how
could she let this happen, how could he let this happen, he was
supposed
to have some hundred years of practice dealing with this sort of crap.
“Shit!” louder this time, frustration melded with sorrow, she slammed
her fist down on the coffee table. Her hand flared with pain. “Shit,”
she muttered, flexing her hand.
Spike woke to hear Willow’s frustrated curse. He pulled on a pair of
jeans and hurried to check on her, her saw her holding her head in her
hands, quiet sobs racking her prefect frame. Soft curses flowed from
her
lips. He carefully sat next to her, after closing the heavy drapes
Giles
had so graciously put up, taking her in his arms, her hands clinging
desperately to his bare chest.
“Calm down baby, what’s wrong?” her rocked her gently, pulling her into
his lap. “Shhhh, don’t cry, baby, it’s okay now.”
Willow calmed, shock preventing her from registering whose lap she was
in. Her body hitched against Spike’s hard chest, air suddenly absent
from her lungs. She sucked in desperately, trying to calm herself.
“What’s wrong baby?” Spike crooned, stroking her hair as she drew in
impossibly deep breaths.
“Spike—” she began, but burst out in tears, unable to vocalize the
thought.
“I’m right here baby, I’m not going anywhere,” he wiped away her tears,
tilting her face up to his, meeting her doleful gaze.
“Spike?” she hitched again, her sobs receding, looking into his eyes,
it
struck her that he wasn’t dead. “Spike!” she exclaimed, jumping at him
and pulling him into a fierce embrace. “I thought you were—” she began,
but tears of joy now replaced her sorrowful sobs.
Spike, pleasantly surprised at the desperate embrace he was held in,
squeezed the small woman carefully, rubbing her back.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his mouth was close to her ear and it
tickled
the delicate flesh, making her squirm in his arms. She pulled back from
him. She smiled at him, shaking her head, but not saying anything, more
tears flowing from her eyes. “I’m so sorry I scared you baby, it’s the
last thing you need right now…” she laughed and hugged him again,
relishing in the feel of his strong arms around her.
“Come on, luv,” he smiled at her when she finally released him, “Dry
your eyes and I’ll make you breakfast.” He kissed her forehead, wishing
desperately that it could be her lips that touched his.
Willow nodded, lingering on the couch before following the vampire,
loving the view of his chiseled back. She thought that he was divine,
he
was so kind to her, it set her body on fire when he touched her, even
his calming words drove her mad with desire. The best part, she thought
wickedly, is that he doesn’t know how perfect he is…
**********
Part 3

Willow ate hungrily, devouring the delicious breakfast Spike had made.
She found it strange and surprising that a vampire, restricted to very
few choices in his dietary habits, could cook so well. French toast,
sweet, sticky buns, bacon and eggs all disappeared quickly. Spike
chuckled as she quickly polished off the meal, while he sipped at the
lukewarm blood with distaste.
“What’s so funny?” she demanded, his chuckle had escalated to
full-blown
laughter.
“I’ve never seen someone eat so much so fast!” he laughed, finishing
the
blood.
“Pfft, like you would know. You don’t even eat!”
“I do too, just not the same types of things.”
“Blood doesn’t count.”
“If I only ate blood, I wouldn’t be such a good cook.” Willow thought
about it for a moment, deciding to steer the conversation in a
different
direction.
“Where’d you learn to cook anyways, Spike?” She picked up her dishes
and
began washing them carefully.
“Well, I could cook when I was human,” he began, rinsing out his mug
and
drying it carefully. “Then, when I turned it was all blood and I wasn’t
interested in food, but after twenty years or so, the charm of it kind
of wore off. I turned a professional chef and learned to cook from
him,”
he set the mug on the counter and began drying the dishes Willow had
already washed.
“But—?” she asked, motioning to the mug he used for blood.
“It’s good, no denying that, luv, but sometimes it’s just for survival
purposes. Nothing beats fine French cuisine.” Willow laughed.
“French?” she asked through her laughter.
“Laugh it up red, but see if you can resist a plate of crunchy frog
legs, or escargot.”
“I could possibly deal with the escargot, but frogs legs? No way! I
don’t even like living frogs!”
“Well, what type of food tickles your fancy, luv?” He put the dishes
away in their rightful places checking the clock.
“I prefer Italian or Chinese, myself,” she smiled up at the vampire, he
grinned back.
“Oh really, I’ll have to keep that in mind…” He put on a pot of tea,
leaving Willow to wake Giles.
Willow watched as he disappeared down the hall towards Giles’ room. The
two got among surprisingly well. She poured herself a cup of tea and
returned to the couch, resuming the research that she had left undone
the night before.
Spike rapped on the watcher’s door, going in before the man had a
chance
to answer, glad the Giles had shut the drapes the night before Spike
proceeded to shake him awake.
“Come on, old man, time to get up. Still some research to get done, and
you might need to be bandaged up from the looks of you.” It was true,
Giles had a gash on his forehead, blood dried around it, bruises on his
arms and face.
“Pah, old man, you’re more than twice my age!” the watcher mumbled,
sitting up slowly, his body protesting.
“I made you some tea, so hurry up or you’ll lose a red head from your
ranks.” Giles laughed groggily, the only other person aware of Spike’s
affection for the witch. Spike left the watcher to dress and join them
in the living room. He grabbed a shirt from his own room and returned
to
the red head.
Willow looked up as Spike reentered the room, she was silently
disappointed that he’d donned a black tee shirt.
“Oh good, Spike, can you translate this for me? My latin’s a little
rusty and it’s too early in the morning to be doing that sort of thing
anyway,” she sighed, pulling her legs beneath him and sipping her tea.
“Sure thing, luv,” he smiled, taking the book and reading the passage
over. He hemmed and hawed over the passage, sitting across from the
woman on the couch. “It says here ‘When the sorceress’ time draws to a
close, the next shall be called and drawn against the slayer in order
to
close the hellmouth’ I wouldn’t worry about it too much until Giles has
joing the ranks of the living.” Willow laughed, seeing Giles emerge
from
his room, his head cleaned and bandaged. He shuffled into the kitchen,
pouring himself a cup of tea and making himself some toast.
“What does it mean?” she asked, taking back the book, shifting her legs
so they stretched out along the couch. Spike smiled at her, tickling
the
soles of her feet. She giggled, knowing that he was avoiding the
question, but not caring.
She jabbed him with her heel, stopping him from tormenting her further,
though her began gently rubbing her feet.
“Spike, what does it mean?” she asked again, softly, closing her eyes,
relaxing against the arm of the couch.
“It means, little one, that you’re in trouble…” he sighed, preparing to
explain the prophecy to her.
***********
Part 4

“Trouble?” she squeaked setting her tea on the table. Spike nodded,
taking the book and setting it aside. She was looking at him intently;
her eyes wide and filled with childlike innocence. His undead heart
sank
at the danger the witch was faced with.
“Drusilla is dying,” he muttered, looking at his hands.
“So?” she whispered quietly.
“She was the sorceress in the prophecy.”
“What does that have to do with me?” she asked carefully, frightened.
“You are the next to be called,” he sighed, feeling the beginnings of a
headache coming on. Willow was about to speak again when he stopped
her,
“let me finish?” she nodded and he sighed again.
“When Drusilla became a master sorceress she did a very stupid thing.
She enraged a mortal prophetess who was…” he coughed, uncomfortably,
“uhm, with me, and the woman cast a prophecy upon both Dru and me. When
her life ends, another will be called to replace her, not only in her
position as a sorceress, but in every aspcet of her life at the time…”
he trailed off, not looking at her as it sunk in.
“I don’t see what’s so bad about that,” she said softly, still
confused,
but somehow, Spike made her feel safe, comfortable.
“That’s not the half of it, pet,” he muttered, running a hand raggedly
through his hair. “She also foretold that something would come,
something unexpected, I assumed it was a demon, and whatever it was
would open the hellmouth.”
“Big surprise there,” Willow snorted indignantly, unaware that she’d
sounded very much like one Miss Cordelia Chase.
“Yeah, well, she insisted that nobody would realize whatever it was—is
except for the sorceress,” he paused, finding a cigarette and lighting
with practiced ease.
“Which would be me,” she finished.
“Right.” He drew deeply on the cigarette. “Well, this creature would
force itself near the slayer, get close with her, and use her against
the sorceress.”
“And the sorceress would have to fight –and kill the slayer to close
the
hellmouth?” she concluded, reluctantly. The idea of hurting Buffy, no
matter what the situation, made her stomach turn loops.
“Not quite, pet,” was the vague reply.
“Than I don’t have to kill Buffy?” She asked, hopefully.
“Not if she doesn’t force your hand, you have to kill the demon, or
whatever it is. Buffy is only a hitch in the plan. If somebody has the
sense to tie her down and knock her out while you send whatever it is
to
the next world, your in the clear with the Slayer’s head intact.” He
took a final drag before stubbing it out in the ashtray.
“I’m sensing a ‘but’ somewhere,” Willow sighed, looking at her shoes,
the tension in his words shaking her already fragile nerves.
“If you can’t convince somebody to leave her tied up and knocked out,
they’ll let her loose and you’ll have a very irate slayer on your
hands,
luv.”
Willow shook her head. Just when I thought my problems were over she
thought wearily, sighing and fighting tears of exhaustion that
threatened to break free. Spike was comfort food, but she sensed that
he
had enough on his mind, and needed his own form of comfort before she
could draw his healing powers again.
She looked at the empty teacup.
“Do you want some tea, Spike?” she asked, rising to her feet, the cup
in
her hands again.
“Vodka’d be better,” he mumbled, leaning back on the couch, no meeting
her eyes. If he had, he would have seen the torment in them, she longed
to help him, but didn’t know how.
“I think Giles has some, I’ll look, if you want.”
He laughed, looking up at her and catching the fleeting traces of the
look that was there only moments ago.
“Thanks, pet, I’d love it,” he moved his gaze to watch her first greet
the still sleepy watcher, refilling her teacup, and then rummaging
around in the liquor cabinet for a bottle of Vodka. She finally found
one and returned toting both the half-empty bottle of alcohol and her
tea precariously balanced between her two hands.
Spike took the bottle from her as she sat down, unscrewing the top and
taking a swig. He sighed and Willow did the same, after sipping at her
steaming tea. She closed her eyes, sleep threatening to take her. Spike
took the teacup from her and set it on the table, pulling her head onto
his shoulder and winding an arm around her.
“Don’t worry about it luv, nothing’s going to happen to you.” He
touched
her hair gently, and both of them settled into the others comforting
embrace.
**********
***********
Part 6

Buffy paced impatiently, waiting for Xander and Anya to arrive. She’d
phoned them after Giles had told her, in no uncertain terms, that she
was to stay out of Spike and Willow’s business, at least when it came
to
them spending time together. He’d then shuffled off to take a nap in
attempt to quell the increasing throb in his head.  She threw a
fleeting
glance at Willow, wrapped in the vampires arms. He’d made her another
cup of tea, and was now talking quietly with her, from the way Willow
was looking it was most likely Oz.
Buffy sighed, no fair, she thought bitterly, beginning to pace again.
Willow gets to have trouble-free snuggles with Spike, sexy, gorgeous,
evil Spike, who listens to her and makes her tea and hot chocolate and
has those amazing blue eyes, and those perfect lips and that body…
She was tugged out of her jealous rant when Anya strode through the
door, Xander in tow. She wore a look of curiosity, apparently Xander
had
said something about the prophecy and it had sparked an interest in the
former vengeance demon. Xander wore a look of confusion along with
terribly mismatched clothes.
“Xander, you may want to change before it gets too late, Cordelia’s
coming, and you know how she is…” Buffy smiled, glad for a distraction.
“Why’s Cordy coming?” Xander asked, making a beeline for the kitchen
cupboards, which always held Triscuits. Xander wasn’t expressly fond of
Triscuits, but he knew that Spike liked them, and thus hit two birds
with one stone, getting a good snack and pissing off the vampire all in
one.
Anya ignored the Slayer and move quickly to the couch. She motioned for
Spike to move his feet and, surprisingly he did, shifting Willow in his
lap so that the girl could sit. This act of respect did not go
unnoticed
and Anya smiled in silent thanks. Spike had a growing respect for the
young woman, despite her poor taste in men.
“Tell me about this prophecy,” Anya said, almost a demand, but not
quite. Spike did so as quickly as possible, while stroking Willow’s
arm,
comforting her without words. She was still uncomfortable with the
whole
idea of the prophecy, but Spike made her feel safe.
“I remember her,” Anya smiled, “I helped her out some years later,
really nice, eventually D’Hoffryn made her a vengeance demon too, but I
haven’t heard from her in about a hundred years.” She smiled,
reminiscing.
“Do you know anything more about the prophecy?” Willow asked hopefully.
“Well, Tallia always had a little catch in her prophecies. Made them
more fun, she said. I think this one’s was something about the
‘replacement’ for the sorceress. I can tell that it’s Willow already,
you’ve seemed so tired these past few weeks. Weariness is a sign of a
drastic change in your magickal balance, but don’t worry, I think
you’re
coming close to being a full sorceress, which means you’ll be right as
rain in a few days.” Anya tried to reassure Willow as best she could,
and it seemed to work. She was glad, Willow was taken for granted far
too much in their little circle, best friend, researcher, hacker, she
was written of as meek and mild, which she so obviously was not. “From
what I remember, Tallia said that whoever was replacing the crazy loon
would get her powers, only much more intense and concentrated. She
would
replace her in her position among fledglings and other vampires,
commanding respect if nothing else from them, whether she was vampire
or
otherwise.” She avoided the obvious knowing that Willow was smart
enough
to catch on. She caught the relieved smile on both the witch’s face
and,
surprisingly, the vampire’s. “I think that the only thing that will
change for you, Will, is that you won’t be attacked so much by vampires
anymore, and you’ll have a great deal of magickal power, and the
capability to a lot more things with your spells.” She avoided the fact
that the prophetess intended for the new sorceress to also replace in
Spike’s heart, seeing that that little bit of the prophecy was taking
care of itself. She also saw relief in Spike’s eyes, and knew that he
was acting on genuine feeling for the witch, and not because of the
power of the prophecy. She didn’t want to screw up whatever they had
going, god only knew that they deserved it.
Willow smiled before flying across the couch and wrapping the other
woman in a fierce hug. Anya laughed and returned the hug graciously.
She
was glad that she’d brought some comfort to the witch.
Xander was munching Triscuits while Buffy ranted about Willow and
Spike’s closeness. He agreed that it was not good that Willow and Spike
were so cozy, and amended that something must be done. He was informed
of Angel and Cordelia’s impending arrival. He began his expected rant
about ‘deadboy’ and Buffy delved back into her jealous train of
thought.

‘What does he want with her? He *can’t* really be interested in Willow,
he must want her to remove that chip or something, find a way re-fang
him. I can’t let Willow get hurt again, especially not by Spike. He
must
be crazy if he thinks Willow would actually believe he’s really
interested in her. Poor Willow, always being taken advantage of. She
should be glad I’m here to look out for her. Spike is a fool if he
thinks he can pull the wool over *my* eyes, not a chance buddy, I know
that he’s not interested in Willow’s type. He’s into all that weird
masochistic stuff, not Willow’s innocent brand of lovin’!’ She sighed,
shaking her head. She took a Triscuit from the box Xander held and bit
into it distractedly.
“So Buff, when’s deadboy getting here?” he asked, looking at his watch
and taking another Triscuit.
“Not for a while, I think. Cordy and that guy that works with them are
coming too,” she muttered, looking jealously at Willow, who was
snuggling back into Spike’s welcoming arms after her hug with Anya. The
three began talking quickly, what about she could only imagine.
‘I wish I knew what they were so excited about,’ Buffy thought,
munching
on the Triscuit, still watching them intently.
“How’s Cordy doing?” Xander asked, truly hoping that his former
girlfriend was doing all right.
“I didn’t talk to any of them,” Buffy replied, dazed.
“Oh,” he replied, looking over at the three on the couch. “They seem to
be talking up a storm,” he laughed and went to join them, reluctantly
followed by Buffy.
When Xander joined them, Anya moved off the couch to share a chair with
her lover, letting Spike resume his previous, more comfortable
position.
Buffy was left to sit on the floor, reluctantly she did so, glaring at
Spike viciously. Willow shifted under the intensely fatal gaze, though
Spike didn’t seem to notice.
It turns out that Willow, Spike and Anya were all devoted fans of the
Marx brothers, which is what they were talking about before Buffy and
Xander had joined them. When the two additions joined the topic steered
to more tedious grounds of conversation.
“Will, why don’t you come back to the dorm, it’s been almost a week
since you came to stay with Giles, and he has a lot to deal with here
already. I don’t think he needs to be worrying about you in addition to
that,” she suggested, not noticing Willow’s hurt look and Spike’s
distasteful glare.
“I’m not a bother,” Willow insisted, “I sleep on his couch and do
research. I make dinner from time to time and that’s about it.”
“You seem to be getting very cozy with Spike too. That has to be
something to worry about,” Xander said mindlessly, regretting it
immediately after he said it, as he receive a sharp elbow to the ribs
from Anya and two intensely furious looks from the current residents of
the couch.
“It doesn’t seem to bother anyone but you and the chit,” Spike stated
coldly, unconsciously tightening his hold around Willow’s waist. Buffy
glared at him, disliking the nickname desperately.
“She still looks exhausted,” Anya said sedately, “I think she should
stay for a while longer, at least until this whole prophecy business is
cleared up.” She was the voice of reason, and it gained her a thankful
smile from Willow.
“I don’t know, Willow,” Buffy said, stubborn as always, and intent upon
ruining Spike’s plan to use Willow for his own purposes, “I’d feel
better if you came back to the dorm with me. Especially because of this
prophecy.”
“I think she’s in better hands here than with you slayer, considering
the prophecy and all,” Spike sneered, his argument painfully valid.
Anya was still looking at Willow, who had said almost nothing
concerning
the whole affair. The look Willow sent the former demon was one
pleading
her to say something, but the return look told her to stand up for
herself. Willow sighed, knowing that Anya was right, and their little
wordless conversation ended as she spoke, her decision made.
“I’d rather stay here, Buffy, I’m still really tired and I still miss
Oz
a lot,” she lied, but hope that her weariness helped her sound more
convincing than usual. “I think going back to the dorm so soon would
just make me feel worse.” She sighed for effect, and she knew she’d won
when Buffy sighed as well.
“If you think it’s best Will,” she muttered in defeat. Willow snuggled
deeper into Spike’s arms, glad he was holding her as tightly as he was.
She smiled as the conversation drifted and slowed, and when Xander
suggested doughnuts he, Buffy and Anya all went, leaving her alone with
the vampire, much against the Slayer’s better judgement.
“Thank god they’re gone,” Willow sighed, closing her eyes and leaning
her head back against Spike’s shoulder, she’d been getting quite used
to
how perfectly his body seemed to fit against hers and she’d almost
forgotten about Oz.
‘Snuggling in somebody else’s arms tends to make one forget about
cheating old boyfriends,’ she thought pleasantly, as she slipped off
again into a blissful sleep.
Spike watched her sleep, loving the feel of her warm body resting
against his. He drifted off to sleep eventually, glad for the silence
and comfort the empty rooms provided.
*********
Part 7

Buffy was about to wake Willow when Anya stilled her hand. She silently
glad that Xander had left to change his clothes, two on one in this
situation was definitely bad odds.
“Let them sleep,” she said softly, holding the Slayer’s arm.
“I don’t like her sleeping so close to him,” was the sharp reply, as
the
girl wrenched her arm out of the former demon’s grip.
“That’s none of your business, Buffy. Let her sleep,” the woman’s gaze
was that of a demon, whether she was one or not anymore didn’t affect
the intensity, or the effectiveness of the glare. Buffy let her hand go
limp.
“Why are you not bothered by this, don’t you care about Willow?” she
demanded, feeling useless.
“Why?” Anya snorted in reply, “many reasons, first and foremost, Spike
can’t hurt her, he can’t and won’t.” she punched each word, trying to
drive the point home to the blonde who seemed to have dyed her hair so
many times she accidentally bleached her brain in the process. The
blonde seemed to not accept the possibility that Spike’s intentions
were
pure. “Secondly, I respect Spike, sure, he’s killed a few, but you have
and so have I. We’ve all had our share of blood, too much I think, but
still…” she trailed off.
“How can respect that—that thing?” Buffy demanded.
“He’s got a capacity for kindness that some demons only dream about, he
can be gentle and loving,” she looked at the perfect picture of
happiness on the couch. “A part of me respects him because of his
demon,
because of his bloody past, and part of me respects him for his courage
and his tolerance, mainly I respect him because he respects me, and
because he’s got guts. More guts than you’ll ever have,” the last was
spoken with venom, and Buffy was taken aback.
“Why are you attacking me?” she asked, her self-righteous tone fading
but not quite gone.
“Because you’re hell bent on ruining the first bit of happiness
Willow’s
had in a long time, and I know why…” her grin seemed unsettling and
eerie. Buffy gulped anxiously.
“Pray tell, Anya, why?”
“Because you’re jealous…” her grin widened as Buffy’s eyes nearly
bugged
out of her head.
“I am not,” the retort was hesitant.
“Yes you are, I can see it in your eyes. You might be able to fool
them,” she motioned to the sleeping figures on the couch. “And you
might
be able to fool Xander, maybe even Giles, and I’m sure you can fool
yourself, but you can’t. Fool. Me.” She drew back, her grin lessening,
but not by much, and she regarded the slayer mockingly. Buffy stumbled
back a step, frightened of the woman.
“You’re delusional,” Buffy stammered, everything but her words told the
former demon otherwise.
“Of course,” Anya laughed, “that must be it, because you’re still in
love with Angel, aren’t you?” her eyes glinted with a frightening fire.
“Or maybe it’s both, who knows with you, right?” laughter filled
Buffy’s
ears and tears almost spilled over onto her perfectly made cheeks. “Or
maybe I’m delusional, a vengeance demon of a thousand years would
easily
be able to mistake one emotion for another…” she laughed turning on her
heel and moving towards one of the vast collections of books. The
conversation forgotten.
Buffy moved sluggishly towards the door, stepping outside and drinking
the night air, claming herself. She was stirred from disturbing
thoughts
by approaching footsteps. She turned and was surprised to see Angel and
Cordelia coming down the steps towards Giles’ door. Buffy’s face lit
up.

“Angel!” she grinned, running and hugging him fiercely. Cordelia took
in
the Slayer with distaste. She moved past the two supernatural freaks of
nature and opened the door. She smiled at Anya, dumping her duffel bag
on the floor by the door.
“Hey Anya,” she smiled, flicking on the lights and surveying the room.
“How’s it going?” she asked, hugging her friend gently.
“Nothing much, prophecy, I guess you know about that though,” she
smiled, leading the other girl towards the couch. Spike was up and
again, watching Willow sleep. Anya smiled at him, knowing he’d heard
most of the conversation she’d had with Buffy.
“Spike, maybe you should put Willow to sleep in a real bed, she won’t
get much rest out here.” Anya smiled, “Also, if Angel comes in and sees
her with you, well…” Spike nodded, lifting Willow and vacating the
couch, allowing the two brunettes to sit comfortably.
“What was that about?” Cordelia asked, “are Spike and Willow an item or
something?” Anya laughed and shook her head.
“Not yet, unfortunately Buffy and Xander can’t keep their noses out of
Willow’s business. Stupid morons don’t know they’re dealing with one
damn heavy prophecy.”
“Tell me about the prophecy later, tell me about everything that’s been
going on since I left, I obviously miss a lot…” Cordelia grinned, and
listened intently as Anya gave her a play-by-play of everything that
had
happened. Cordelia laughed at some parts, taking everything eagerly.
When Anya had finished Cordelia laughed.
“Whoever made Harmony a vampire must be kicking themselves now,” she
sighed.
“Believe me, I am, pet,” Spike grinned, sinking into the armchair near
the couch. Cordelia found herself smiling back, not appalled by Spike
in
the least.
“Cordy, where’s your friend?” Anya asked, suddenly curious as to why
the
Irish man wasn’t there to lend his support. “Doyle, right?” Cordelia
frowned, tears threatening to break free from her eyes.
“Doyle—” Cordelia began, her voice trembling horribly. “Doyle’s dead…”
she stammered, tears cascading down her face. Anya’s heart broke at the
sight of one of her best friend’s weeping like a child.
“Oh God, Cordy, I’m so sorry…” she reached out and embraced the weeping
girl tenderly. Eventually she sobs subsided and Cordelia pulled out of
Anya’s arms. She looked at Spike, surprised at the compassion in his
eyes. She sniffled and wiped her eyes.
“I miss him so much…” she whispered softly, and was surprised when
Spike
moved towards her and crouched down before her. One of his large, cold
hands touched her cheek and wiped away her drying tears with his thumb.
Normally she would have cringed at his touch, but he was gentle and his
face told her that he wouldn’t hurt her, ever. She closed her eyes and
leaned into the comforting, friendly touch. Anya took her hand and held
it soothingly as she calmed, blessed silence filling the room.
Spike finally spoke, breaking the stillness with gentle carefulness.
“Luv, you know he did the right thing, don’t you?” he asked, looking
into her eyes, clear blue meeting foggy hazel ones. She sniffled and
nodded, fresh tears welling up in her eyes.
“And you know that he did for you, don’t you?” he asked again, moving
his hand from her face to her shoulder, rubbing the rounded curve of
her
shoulder. Again, Cordelia nodded.
“And you know he loved you, right?” he asked again, hating to see the
girl cry. She reminded him of Willow, in a little way, a tower of
strength in the face of heartbreak. Cordelia nodded, more tears
spilling
down her cheeks, her head dropping to her chest, her free hand covering
her eyes, not able to steal her other hand from Anya’s grasp, and not
wanting to.
“Then that’s all you need to know. If you loved him, then don’t forget
him, but don’t make yourself miserable over a lost future. Nobody would
want that, least of somebody who loved you.” She nodded and smiled,
despite her tears. Spike smiled and nodded. “Good.” His hand moved back
up to her cheek and dried her eyes. He was about to say “no more tears,
luv,” or something to that effect when Buffy and Angel came back in,
Xander following close behind, they took in the sight, Spike’s hand of
Cordelia’s cheek, her receding sobs, and Anya looking on passively.
Buffy, thrilled at the thought of spoiling Spike’s newfound
credibility,
dashed over, the two men close on her heel.
“What the hell did you do to her?” she demanded of both Spike and Anya.
Two demons (for Buffy now say Anya a demon, technicalities or not, she
still had the cold heart of a vengeance demon) and a crying girl just
reeked of trouble.
Spike, startled by the shrill shriek of a banshee that emitted from the
slayer, fell back, his hand remaining soothingly on Cordelia’s cheek,
but his eyes, now golden with the fury of his demon glared at the
Slayer, his ridiculous sire, and Xander. It was Anya who spoke, rising,
but being careful to hold Cordelia’s hand reassuringly, returning the
tight squeeze that Cordelia gave her.
“Neither of us did anything to her,” her voice was calm and perfectly
smooth, hiding the fury that burned behind her eyes. “If you had half a
brain and a little faith in either of us you could have seen that
Cordelia’s upset. She was telling us about what happened to Doyle and
started crying, and Spike was making her feel better,” she clipped the
words, violently trying to quell the urge to tear into the Slayer. She
saw fresh tears tumbling down Cordelia’s cheeks and encased the other
woman’s hand in both of her own.
Spike glared daggers at the three, rising and taking Cordelia into his
arms.
“Come on pet, we’ll get you cleaned up. You should sleep some, I’ll
wake
you when things get a little more interesting” Cordelia nodded, sob
racking her body once again. He threw a withering glance over his
shoulder at the three again before disappearing down the hall, the
brunette still carefully wrapped in is arms.
“He’s getting to be quite the Samaritan, isn’t he?” Angel scoffed,
frowning at the former demon who was the only one left to defend the
vampire’s intentions.
“You three,” she threw up her hands in furious frustration. “Gods
below,
you swear you were the KKK or something that way you treat him!” Angel
was taken aback at the demonic reference.
“He’s a demon, Anya! What do you expect?” Xander exclaimed, his own,
weaker brand of fury seeping into his voice.
“I’m a demon!” she shouted back, her rage coming out full force.
“Yeah, you’re a demon. You know not to trust them.” Buffy sneered, now
that her battalion of admirers were by her side, she had no problem
attacking her.
“Then why are you hiding behind one, Slayer?” her voice was vicious,
cruel, and most of all, filled with the painful truth that neither
Buffy
or Angel could face. Though they both despised and distrusted the
vampire, their own indiscretion loomed over their heads, destroying any
credibility their arguments held.
Come hell or high water Anya would drive it through their overly thick
skulls that Spike was looking out for the best interest of the red head
and her friends. They didn’t understand or care about the prophecy, but
she did. She would make them understand, or she would make them pay.
Yes, she would make them pay dearly…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~``
Part 8

“Spike?” Cordelia asked, her voice muffled from her receding sobs.
“Yes, pet?”
“Why were they all yelling?”
“Because they’re looking out for you, pet. That’s all,” Cordelia nodded
and let herself be moved wherever the vampire intended for her to go.
Spike led Cordelia to the small bathroom and left her to wash her face
and have some time alone. He took advantage of the time to himself to
move down the hall and check on Willow. She was curled up in the arm
chair he’d had brought to make the room more like home, a bright
reading
lamp on, she wore one of his red shirts over a pair of loose slacks.
She
was reading a book, which one he couldn’t tell. He watched her
carefully, taking in the wonderful sight of her.
“Willow?” he asked gently, not wanting to startle her. She looked up
and
smiled.
“I borrowed a shirt, I’m sorry, I didn’t have any clean ones left…” she
rose and then trailed off, smiling. “And a book.” She held it up for
him
to see. He chuckled.
“Dracula, eh pet?” he moved and touched her arm. “Always been one of my
favorites.” She laughed this time too, before capturing him in a fierce
hug.
He laughed, touching her hair. “Pet?” he asked once she’d let go of
him.

“Yeah?”
“We have visitors,” he frowned at the thought of Angel even getting
near
Willow. His Willow.
“Angel and Cordy and Doyle?” she smiled excitedly.
“Only Angel and Cordelia,” he said sadly.
“Wh—what happened to Doyle?” she asked, almost in a whisper.
“He died. Threw himself on some strange death beam thing and saved a
bunch of half breeds, killing himself in the process.” He said sadly.
Willow frowned. She’d spoken to the Irish half-breed almost every time
she’d called Cordelia at the office. They’d kept in touch,
surprisingly,
just as Cordelia and Anya had.
“How did you know that?” she asked, bewildered that the vampire knew
exactly how the man had met his unfortunate end.
“I have my sources watching out there…” he began, trailed off, seeing
acceptance in the witch’s eyes.
“How’s Cordy?” she asked, knowing that something had happened, she may
have been elsewhere at the time, but anyone could still read the traces
of concern on the vampire’s face.
“She’s tired, and still a little sad, but still intact and very glad to
see you Wills,” Cordelia’s weary voice came from the doorway. Willow
looked past Spike and immediately rushed over to the brunette. Cordelia
smiled, her eyes still red and her voice still sad, but returning the
embrace just the same.
“Cordy!” Willow smiled, pulling back and taking in the other woman. “Oh
Cordy, I’m sorry,” Willow’s voice was true and sincere, and it made the
former ice queen’s heart break for the thousandth time in the past
month. She smiled despite the pain, no tears warming her eyes yet.
“I know Willow, I am too. But done is done, right?” she smiled, trying
to mask the ache with good humor. Willow smiled and hugged her again.
“Yeah, I guess, but—” Willow began to say something, but was stopped by
Cordelia’s finger pressed to lips.
“Spike said all that needed to be said, Willow,” she smiled over the
redhead’s shoulder at the vampire.
“What can I do?” Willow asked, knowing the heartbreak the woman felt.
She knew it all too well, though it’s death grip was easing up,
gradually.
“Just tell me it’ll be all right, and let me get some sleep…” Willow
smiled weakly, hating to see another being in such pain.
“You know it’s gonna be all right, Cor, no doubt about it. You’ll pull
through and be a fabulous movie star and make every single one of us
back here green with envy.” Cordelia smiled brightly, renewing the lost
embrace with thanks.
“I knew you could do it Wills, now I feel better, but still tired. You
should go say hi to Angel before he starts to stalk other night
things…”
Cordelia laughed, gently letting go of the red head and moving towards
the bed.
She sat slowly, as if every muscle in her body cried in protest, before
curling up under the covers of Spike’s bed.
“Get some sleep, Cor, and then we can go shopping tomorrow,” Willow
smiled and left the room, followed quickly by Spike, who had been
watching the two friends smiled and hug and look pained alternately
with
growing warmth. He loved the little witch, more so now than ever, and
he
admired the brunette. Both of them had shared a little bit of the pain
that he had, he wanted to protect them from further pain, why? He
couldn’t say.
Willow stood out in the hall, waiting for Spike. She smiled as he
watched her, waiting for her to speak.
“What’s gotten into you?” she asked merrily, “you were being so nice I
almost forgot you were a demon.”
“Nothing’s ‘gotten into me’, luv, but the Slayer and the two wankers
were exercising their right to act in stupidity and upset the poor girl
more than she was already.” He looked down at the witch, wanting
nothing
more than to kiss her.
“Alright, but why are you being so nice to me?” she asked, an impish
grin splayed across her face. He shrugged.
“Felt like it?” he said simply. If it hadn’t been for the look in his
iced blue eyes, Willow might have bolted. She’d come to depend on him,
if he didn’t at least like her a little she’d be crushed. Spike knew
this full well, and saw the playful light in her eyes dim. His undead
heart constricted, wanting to kiss away any worries she might have.
Needing to.
She was staring up at him, wanting him to do something, anything,
except
look at her the way he was. He was lost in thought, an internal
struggle
going on behind those beautiful vampire eyes. His look softened,
smiling
with amusement, she felt her heart sink.
‘He’s laughing at me…’ she thought briefly, before that thought, and
every other, melted away into the softness of his kiss.
Their bodies were close, touching briefly, but teasingly far apart.
Willow’s arms snaked up, her hands entangling themselves in his blonde
hair, wanting more of him, loving every brief touch of his hand, the
gentle pressure of his lips, the sweet taste of his tongue, smooth and
cool, contrasting irresistibly with the heat of her mouth. His hands
moved to her back, pressing lightly, drawing her deeper into his
embrace. He could smell her, that faint aroma that was uniquely hers,
it
was sweet, a combination of lilac, lilies, and honey. He drank it in
deeply, the scent stronger now than before, her heart thrummed heavily
in her chest, the sweet pulse driving him mad, her blood singing to
him.

He felt himself change involuntarily, a soft growl escaping his lips.
Willow pulled back gently, startled, but not afraid. Her fingers
touched
the ridges of his forehead, her eyes holding his, now yellow, but still
kind. She reached in her pocket, with drawing a safety pin. She
carefully pricked her finger, a small drop of blood welling up on the
tip. She unconsciously drew blood from her lip as well, her blunt teeth
digging into the flesh, trying to ward off the pain. She held her
finger
up for him in offering. He took it in his mouth, tasting the sweet
lifeblood that flowed through her,
He licked away the blood, returning her finger to her once more. He
bent
his head, taking her lips again, stealing the fading drops of blood
from
her lips and tongue. His demon receded, the sweetness quelling its
demand for blood.
This kiss was stronger than before, needy and demanding. She pulled him
to her, her hands gripping his hair fiercely. He held her close, the
warmth of her body driving him wild. Neither of them noticed Anya’s
form
appear in the mouth of the hallway, watching with amusement for a
moment, and neither of them noticed her leave, an approving smile
dancing across her face.
***********
Part 9

Anya emerged from the darkness of the hallways, a smug smile pasted on
her face. Buffy stood awkwardly with Angel in the kitchen, warming some
blood for him. Xander sat on the couch, watching the entrance to the
hall, waiting for her to reappear. She sighed, moving slowly to sit
next
to her lover.
“Why are you defending him?” he asked quietly, devoid of his usual
brightness. Anya looked into his eyes, feeling sorry for worrying him.
“Because I know what he’s dealing with, and I know what he is, and
because…” she paused, looking at the ground. “Because he’s a good
person,” she said, no self-consciousness, no regret, just the simple
statement.
“How can you say that?” he asked incredulously.
“Have you taken the time to watch him? When he’s around Willow, and
Giles, even me?” she asked, looking at him sadly, he truly was
hopeless.
Set in his beliefs like the slayer. He shook his head, a self-righteous
air was held within the brief action. She sighed, irritated. “He’s
kind.” She said simply, not wanting to drop her trump card unless it
was
absolutely necessary.
“He’s bluffing, he wants something out of it, you can’t trust a
vampire,” he sneered, his gaze unconsciously falling on the dark
vampire
who stood with the slayer he’d so long admired.
“How about demons?” she asked coldly.
“Can’t trust them either,” he said, regretting his words immediately.
The look of mixed fury and hurt on her face made his heart freeze with
fear. He might have been stupid, but he knew enough not to enrage a
vengeance demon. Well, just because he knew not to, didn’t mean he was
smart enough no to do it. Xander silently cursed himself, afraid of
what
his lover would do.
“Oh really? Well then, perhaps we should just get rid of all the demons
helping you out, Xander,” she grinned, rising, a stake appearing in her
hand. “But you may want to run for cover, because you’ll have two very
angry women on your hands…” she began to move, but Xander caught her
arm
and tugged her down onto the couch.
“Stop it, you’re overreacting,” he said, his hand still fixed on her
arm.
“Am I?” she sneered, wrenching her arm out of his grip. “What about
you?
You pitched a jealous fit when you saw Willow sleeping with Spike,” she
scoffed. Xander frowned knowing it was true. He still saw Willow as
his.

“You’re not even a demon anymore!” he protested, trying to shift the
conversation from his own shortcomings.
“Being a demon is all I know, Xander, I’ve been one for over a thousand
years, I’ve human for less than a year,” she growled at the threat to
her still partially demonic nature.
“So,” his argument weakened to a ‘because I said so’ state. “That
doesn’t mean that Willow can get all cozy with deadboy Jr.”
“Who are you to say what she can and can’t do? It’s her heart on the
line, Oz shattered it, and while everybody else, myself included, was
too busy to help her pick up the pieces, Spike helped her find
something
that was missing before. If you don’t like it, that’s too bad. Keep
your
nose out of her business. You didn’t offer your special brand of ‘help’
when she needed it, and now that she doesn’t even want you, you are
going to keep it to yourself,” The demon seethed with protective rage,
her primal instincts kicking in. Vengeance demon emerged for the second
time that day, her eyes glinting with that same feral light.
“Why?” he shot back, his courage was flaring up briefly.
“Because she. Loves. Him.” She hammered the words out, but her eyes
drove the point home.
“She can’t,” he whispered, any traces of courage in him gone in a wisp
of icy breath.
“She does. And he loves her.” Her tone had softened, not wanting to
draw
the Slayer’s attention.
“No, I don’t believe it. He can’t. He’s a monster,” Xander insisted
weakly.
“Angel loves Buffy.”
“He’s got a soul, it doesn’t count.”
“Right, of course, he’s not a monster though, not at all.” She scoffed,
mocking him with her eyes.
“I didn’t say—” but he stopped, her eyes silencing him. There was
nothing to say.
“I know his heart, and I know hers. You can’t do anything Xander.
Nothing at all.” It sounded like a threat, but he wasn’t sure.
There was a horrible silence that followed. Silence has a sound of its
own which can be deafening.
Silence between people is horrible, the words that aren't spoken, but
you can still hear. It was this type of silence that now filled the
room, Buffy and Angel had slipped into an awkward silence, and Anya
still glared at Xander, thousands of words were flung between the four,
accusations, confessions of forbidden love, threats, and promises.
The silence grew, threatening to drown them within its vastness. It
grew
and grew, but was broken before its power overcame them. Angel’s
protective snarl broke through the suffocating blanket of stillness
that
held them in place.
Spike and Willow had emerged again from the hall. Spike’s arm was
wrapped protectively around Willow, and his hold tightened as Angel’s
snarl made the witch flinch in terror. She knew Angel wouldn’t hurt
her,
but she afraid he might. Dreams of Angelus still haunted her from time
to time, and when he snarled she saw the face of the monster that had
murdered her mentor and friend. Angel saw the fear, but misread it,
thinking that Spike was hurting her.
“Let go of her,” he growled, low and menacing. Willow looked confused.
She didn’t want Spike to let go of her. She liked him right where he
was.
“Not bloody likely mate,” Spike scoffed, his free hand finding Willow’s
and holding it gently, comforting her.
“I said let her go, don’t touch her, ever, Spike,” the dark vampire
seemed to grow in his threat. Spike laughed. Willow tensed and leaned
into Spike’s comforting hold. She felt faint, Angel’s behavior
frightening her.
“Why should I?” he demanded, stroking Willow’s hand reassuringly.
“Because if you don’t you’ll be dust,” Buffy chirped, her threat weak,
but still there.
Spike laughed. Xander looked on anxiously, worried for his friend. Anya
rose, her residual demonic urges moving her. Only Willow noticed Anya’s
movement, and shot her a look that told her to be patient. If help were
needed, Anya would know. Anya nodded, her position held for the moment.
“Spike,” Angel’s growl was more threatening than Buffy’s empty words.
“Angelus,” it was a slap in the face for the vampire, and the smug
smile
on Spike’s face told him that he knew it too.
“Let. Her. Go.” The vampire said each word carefully, his voice full of
hatred and promise. The blonde vampire’s arm dropped. Willow looked up
at him, almost sadly.
“Willow, get away from him,” Buffy commanded, joyful at the sight of
Spike’s arms dropping to his side. Willow didn’t move. She felt dizzy,
and tired, and furious, but she didn’t speak.
“Willow get away from him!” Buffy insisted, moving towards her.
Willow’s
face showed no fear anymore, yet she didn’t move.
“Willow, move damn it!” Buffy shouted, down the hall both Giles and
Cordelia woke to the shrill command. Cordelia sighed and slipped back
into weary sleep, while Giles rose, slowly making his way out to where
the ruckus was.
He saw Buffy stomping over to the witch, who still hadn’t moved away
from the vampire. Willow looked dazed, and, if the watcher could have
seen the vampire’s face, he would have seen worry and deep concern for
the witch.
Spike touched the witch’s hand, “Pet?” he asked softly, afraid
something
had happened. Buffy grabbed the redhead’s arm and tried to pull her
away. The redhead attempted to tear her arm from the slayer’s grip, her
face filled with anger.
“Let go of me!” she shouted, tugging her arm from the stunned slayer.
“Willow,” Buffy tried to sound reasonable, “come on, stay away from
Spike, he’s bad news.”
“No!” the witch insisted moving closer to the vampire. Giles moved out
of the shadows of the unlit hallway, moving past Spike and standing
between Buffy and Willow.
“What is going on here?” he demanded, glaring at Buffy, knowing she’d
directly disobeyed his orders.
“Willow’s exercising her right to become vampire munchies,” Buffy
stated
coolly.
“I am not!” Willow insisted, “he can’t even hit anybody, let alone
*feed* from someone, you know that!” Willow’s tone was desperate,
trying
to be accepted.
“You can’t believe that he’s *really* not going to hurt you, Willow,
he’s only using you for your magick!” Buffy insisted, and Willow’s eyes
pricked with tears. Spike drew her into her arms, a threatening snarl
escaping his lips.
Willow buried her face in his chest, not looking up when the low rumble
escaped him. Her tears were soundless, the most painful kind. Buffy
didn’t seem to notice, but both Giles and Anya did.
“What do you know slayer?” Spike sneered.
“I know you,” was the snappy retort. She had her army. Her watcher, her
former lover, her friend, and the former demon stood behind her, or so
she thought.
“You don’t know the first thing about him,” Anya snapped, her patience
worn to nothingness. All eyes rested on her save for Willow and
Spike’s.

“What? You’re defending him again, after he made Willow cry?” the slyer
insisted, Giles couldn’t believe the words that fell from his slayer’s
mouth. Was she so blind?”
“You made Willow cry, Slayer,” the demon emerged, full force. “You
can’t
control her, and you can’t take him from her, and you hate it.” It
almost seemed as if her demon visage returned.
“You don’t know anything, Anya, Spike’s a killer,” Buffy stated, so
sure
of herself.
“So are you.”
Everyone froze.
*******
Part 10

“Anya,” Xander spoke first, rising and touching his lover’s arm gently.
She shook him off easily. She felt alive again, her demon reveling in
the shocked looks of those surrounding her. “You didn’t mean that,” he
told her softly.
“Yes I did,” her voice was light, almost cheerful. “She’s a killer and
she knows it. Just look at her, it’s written all over her face.” The
demon laughed. “You killed an innocent man, you abandoned the people
who
needed you, you killed you fellow slayer, you unleashed one of the most
vicious killers this world has ever seen because you couldn’t keep your
legs shut. You are a selfish, shallow bitch, and that makes you worse
than anything Spike is or ever was.”
Buffy moved away from the den, and the demon, finding the comfort of
Angel’s arms and calming herself. They would not see her cry.
“Look, she runs to her sugar daddy,” Anya laughed, her head thrown
back.
It was a horrible sound, at least to some. Spike grinned at the wicked
laughter, and, secretly, Willow did too.
“I—I don’t want Willow to get hurt,” Buffy stammered, ignoring the
accusation that had shattered her confidence.
“You don’t want her hurt?” Anya scoffed, and was about to continue, but
Giles stopped everything.
“Enough!” he shouted, far too loud, awakening his dying headache.
“Buffy
I told you not to interfere with this!” he said, his eyes severe and
unrelenting.
“You knew about this?” Angel demanded furiously. His hold on Buffy
forgotten, he approached the Watcher menacingly.
“And what if I did? Spike hasn’t hurt her, in fact he has been very
helpful to Willow, after Oz left…” Giles stopped, the vampire towering
over him.
“You trust Spike?” he seethed menace.
“To a point. Yes,” the watcher did not back down.
“Did you even think about Willow’s best interests when you let this go
on without objection?” the vampire growled, and the watcher was about
to
respond when Willow pulled herself from Spike’s comforting arms.
“Shut up Angel,” she said, her voice measured and cool, hiding the rage
that pumped through her veins, boiling her blood. He was about to speak
in protest, but Willow cut him off. “All of you just shut up!”
Everyone was taken aback by her outburst, except for Spike and Anya,
who
seemed unfazed.
“Willow—” Giles began, hoping to explain his actions, he felt guilty
for
trying to convey what she thought to the others.
“No, Giles, thank you for defending my choices, but I can handle this
myself.” She moved to the older man, taking his hands in hers. “Go
rest,
I know your head must be killing you.” He nodded, easily persuaded to
everyone’s surprise. Only Anya knew what the change was.
Willow was now a sorceress.
She turned her attention to Angel, her anger rising again.
“What do you know about my best interests?” she demanded, waiting for
an
answer patiently. When he didn’t answer she asked again. “Come on
Angel,
if you’re going to accuse Giles of not paying attention to my best
interests I’d like to know what you think those interests are.” Angel
still did not reply. “Oh, I see, so you’ll insult my mentor and my
friend on my behalf, my *second* mentor, thanks to you, but you won’t
justify yourself to me.”
“Hey, Jenny wasn’t his fault.” Buffy declared, hating to see her former
lover so helpless.
“Then it was yours, Buffy, take your pick,” She was too consumed with
rage to care anymore, the power of her new status filling her,
demanding
retribution. Buffy silenced and fell farther back into the kitchen.
Willow ignored the slayer and returned her attention to the vampire,
looking up at him demanding an answer.
“Well?” she asked finally, not receiving a response only aggravated her
more. “Hurry up Angel, I don’t have eternity, like you. Why do you
think
that I can’t make my own decisions? Is it because I’m just innocent
little Willow, don’t let her do anything on her own, she might grow up
and find out none of you are as fabulous as you think you are? Too
late,
Angel, I already know what a petty small person you are.” She sneered
the last venomously.
“Willow I—” he began.
“What’s that? Speak up Angel.”
“Spike is evil, he should have died the moment he came here.” Angel
finally said coldly, a snarl escaping his lips. “He doesn’t deserve to
live, let alone hurt you.”
“What the bloody hell are you talking about, you stupid bloody sod?”
Spike demanded, moving closer to Willow.
“Why are you so convinced that he’s going to hurt me?” she asked
mockingly.
“Because I made him what he is.”
“Then what makes you think I don’t want to be hurt by him,” it was a
groundless statement; she didn’t want to be hurt, but she knew that
Spike wouldn’t, no, couldn’t hurt her.
Angel had no response at first, before saying softly.
“Willow, you’re not thinking straight. You should rest, I’ll take you
home,” he took her arm but it was torn viciously from his grasp.
“How dare you?” she whispered, her body beginning to glow with a deep
violet light. Anya suddenly spoke commanding the sorceress.
“Willow, don’t,” Willow turned to face the demon, and a warning passed
between them, unspoken and unheard. “He’s not worth it. You’ll wear
yourself out if you use you power too soon.” Willow nodded the glow
fading, but not disappearing. She turned back to Angel.
“How dare you question my judgement,” she seethed, “you left. Bastard,
you left and now you come back and try and tell me what to do? I don’t
think so,” her eyes flashed dangerously.
“Willow, let me take you home, something’s wrong with you,” Buffy
emerged from the kitchen and was now standing behind Angel.
“I am home,” she said calmly.
“No, Willow, you’re coming back to the dorm with me.”
“Buffy, get out,” she commanded, dismissing the slayer.
“No,”
“Leave now,” Willow said calmly, not even looking at the slayer. Buffy
remained stationary, unmoving, her best intimidating look focused
uselessly on Willow. “You can’t control me anymore, Buffy, get out and
I’ll talk to you later, when you’ve realized that.”
Buffy stood still. Anya looked at her, the glare saying ‘leave, or
die,’
the slayer finally chose to leave.
“This isn’t over,” she said coldly over she shoulder, glaring at Spike
and Anya.
“Yes, it is,” Willow said as the door slammed shut. She looked at
Angel.
“Go find someplace else to stay, Angel, you’re not welcome here
anymore.” Willow turned and headed back to where Spike stood smugly. “I
hear that Buffy’s got an extra bed in her room, maybe you can stay
there,” she didn’t look at him, waiting anxiously for the door to
close.
She was spent, and wouldn’t last much longer. As soon as the door shut
with an angry click Willow collapsed into Spike’s arms. Anya hurried
over to the girl in the vampire’s arms, leaving Xander on the couch
alone.
“That was not smart,” she told Willow, still conscious, but slipping
fast. “Sleep a lot, keep well rested, and most of all, don’t do
anything
like this until you’re up to your full strength,” the demon ordered
lightly, like a mother caring for a small child. She looked up at
Spike,
“watch her, and make sure she’s comfortable at all times, you’re
dealing
with a sorceress now, she’s got at lest ten times the magickal power
she
did before.” She was serious, but still kind.
“Yes doctor,” Willow chuckled, leaning on Spike for support.
“Willow, get better soon,” Anya said, sounding like a child, she hugged
the sorceress carefully, before turning and heading towards the door.
She stopped at the door and turned, “Xander, come on, leave them
alone.”
She said, Xander did as he was told and followed Anya outside into the
night air.
Spike carried Willow over to the couch and settled her comfortably
before sitting the chair to watch her. Willow did not drift into sleep
as Spike expected. She sat wearily and smiled weakly.
“Hold me?” she asked, he smiled as she stood, dangerously unsteady. He
wrapped her in his arms as they both sunk into the softness of the
couch.
“This is nice,” Willow muttered as she drifted into sleep, Spike smiled
and kissed her forehead.
“Much better than nice if you ask me, pet,” he sighed, letting her
warmth, his weariness, and the closeness of sunrise draw him into
sleep.
******
********
Part 12

Willow let Spike lift her easily and carry her to he bed, seating
himself before resting her in his lap. She looked at him, their eyes
locked, cold blue to warm green, now tinted with purple flecks of
powerful magick that he’d never seen before. She curled her fingers
around his hand, warming the cool flesh with her love. She rested her
head on his shoulder and nuzzled his neck, closing her eyes; still
weary
from the transformation she’d undergone.
“What am I going to do, Spike?” she asked softly, relishing the feel of
his arms wrapped around her but trying to hide the desperation that ran
through her like poison.
“I was thinking something along the lines of letting me hold you,
letting me kiss you, then letting me shag you senseless for the rest of
the day.” He smiled, drawing her lips into a gentle kiss. Willow pulled
back gently, laughing softly.
“That’s not what I meant.” She smiled, her hands resting on his
shoulders, “what am I going to do about Buffy, Angel and Xander?” she
sighed sadly, hating the division within the group, she needed their
support, not their criticism, now especially.
“Kill them?” he suggested disdainfully.
“Spike!” she squealed, appalled by the suggestion.
“What!” he demanded, looking at her seriously, “they’re convinced that
I’m out to get you, pet! You know them, at least two of them, better
than I do, so you tell me, did any of them seem eager to shut up, stand
back, and let you make up your own mind about me?” he asked, disdain
seeping into his voice.
“No, but, Spike, they’re my friends,” she frowned, disliking the fact
that what he was saying was all too true.
“Some friends, they aren’t letting you live your own life!”
“They are, they’re just looking out for me!” she insisted desperately.
“They are not, pet,” said forcefully, shaking her gently. “They want
you
to conform to their idea of what you should be, if you bide by those
restraints you’re free to do whatever you want. Step out of them and
they’ll try to beat you back into submission, metaphorically that is,
or
they’ll leave you to the wolves, not quite so metaphorically…” he said,
looking at her sternly, bombarding her with painful truths that had
gone
unspoken far too long. Her eyes dropped to her hands and she extracted
herself from his arms, moving to the dresser that contained some of her
clothes. She didn’t look at him as she sifted through the drawers,
pulling out a short, black, leather skirt and a red silk tank top.  She
also dragged a box out from behind the dresser and removed a pair of
knee high leather boots. She paused, looking at the collection of
clothing before shifting through another drawer and yanking out a pair
of black nylons.
Spike watched her intently, surprised at the sight of all three items.
He cocked an inquisitive eyebrow at her, eyeing the leather skirt and
slinky top in her arms.
“What?” she asked, dropping the four things on the bed. When he didn’t
answer she repeated, “What?!” she demanded, looking at him imposingly,
her hands on her hips.
“Nothing luv, those just don’t seem like the type of clothing you’d
usually wear,” he looked up at her, still eyeing the clothing on the
bed
with the corner of his eye, as if he were frightened they’d jump up and
run away if he didn’t.
“Please,” she scoffed, looking adoringly at the clothing, “you only
know
one side of me, Spike, what you said before was true, I know it too
well, and I work around it, they’re my friends, but they’re also
*really* boring sometimes,” she smiled, beginning to unbutton her
shirt.
She noticed Spike’s surprised, but not unappreciative stare.
“You said you would help,” she grinned wickedly, “so help,” she waggled
her eyebrows invitingly before continuing to unbutton the shirt.
“Bloody hell,” he grinned, rising to his feet quickly, “you don’t have
to tell me twice pet…” he crossed the room to her and moved her hands
away from the buttons, capturing her lips and finishing what she’d
started. He pushed the shirt off her shoulders and dropped his hands to
the clasp of her bra. He made short works of that as well, and she
looked up at him, grinning like a Cheshire cat.
“That was fast,” she smiled seductively as her hands slid under his
black tee shirt, covering every inch of his hard chest. “If I didn’t
know better I’d think you’ve done this before,” she whispered, tugging
the shirt over his head and capturing his nipple in her mouth.
“Pet, I’m supposed to be helping you, not the other way around,” he
grinned, pushing her back gently, unzipping her jeans with one hand as
the other moved slowly to the swell of her breast, teasing her pebbled
nipple with agonizing slowness. She shuddered, her eyes half-shut, her
lips parted a swollen from their kiss.
“Spike,” she moaned, leaning into his palm, letting her jeans fall down
her smooth, toned legs, and pool around her bare feet.
Spike lifted her gently, his mouth recapturing hers, and carried her to
the bed, lying her down and looking appreciatively at her near-naked
form. Her hair a fiery halo around her head, contrasting starkly with
the black of the sheets and the paleness of her skin. She frowned,
waiting for him to kiss her again, needing him to touch her. She was on
fire, her desire raging violently, driving her beyond rational thought.
She sat up only to be pushed back down again gently. Spike grinned
wickedly, and, seeing the questioning look in her eyes, his grin
widened.
“I can be a tease too, you know” was the only explanation he was
willing
to give.
He reached for the red silk shirt and held it in his hands a moment,
before crawling up the bed, straddling her and pinning her down gently.
He raised her upper half gently, not letting her shoulders more than
three inches off the mattress, and slipped the silk garment over her
head. Her smoothed the silk down the length of her chest, pushing her
back down to her previous position. He looked at her adoringly,
kneading
her breasts through the smooth fabric. He leaned down and kissed her
deeply, his tongue plundering her mouth, relishing the sweetness of
her.
Her pulled back, removing his hands and mouth simultaneously, eliciting
a wonderful whimper of protest from the little sorceress. She writhed
in
unfulfilled desire, the nylons and her boots slipping off the end of
the
bed, unnoticed.
He moved off her entirely then, taking the skirt and slipping it up
over
her legs, his hands applying gentle pressure as they followed their
course up the smooth, creamy flesh. He pulled the skirt around her
hips,
zipping up the back, before moving his hands to her hips. He bent and
kissed just above the top of the skirt, raising the silk of her tank
top
slightly, and licked the white flesh tentatively, before moving down
slightly. He raised her legs, pushing the restraining leather farther
up
on her hips, allowing him better access to her tight passageway.
He could smell her arousal, it was strong and intoxicating, and drove
him wild with desire. He wanted to take her then, to bury himself
inside
her and make her scream his name, but something deep within him wanted
her to squirm a little, reminding him that good things come to those
who
wait. His patience won out, eventually, and he kissed her though her
panties, they were red and silk as well, and he grinned against the
sopping fabric. She moaned his name softly and his fingers evaded the
barrier of fabric and entered her slowly, suddenly immersed in her
dripping channel. Began to pump into her with his cold fingers, his
thumb teasing her clit as she thrust into his hand. He brought her to
the edge before removing his hand completely and tasted the sweet
juices
on his fingers.
He slowly clothed her bare legs with the nylons he’d snatched from the
floor. He then readjusted her skirt and slipped on the boots, zipping
them carefully, so as not to catch any of the thin cloth covering her
legs.
She looked  up at him and growled threateningly.
“Hurry up pet,” he grinned mockingly, “you wouldn’t want to keep your
friends waiting too long,” he picked up his shirt, slipped it over his
head and left the room. Willow sighed in frustration, vowing revenge
upon the vampire. She grinned, rising and running a brush through her
hair. She looked at her reflection and frowned at the hair hanging
limply around her face. She considered styling it quickly, but then a
thought struck her and she grinned happily. She waved her hand over her
hair, and watched ecstatically as tendrils of hair twisted and curled
and resulted in a classy looking, swept up look . It had been twisted
up
and pinned in place with two red black hair sticks, two tendrils left
down to frame her face. She grinned and hurried out of the room.
She found Cordelia and Anya waiting patiently, making small talk with
Spike and Giles. They rose as Willow emerged from the mouth of the
hall,
smiling widely.
“Willow, when did you start wearing designer clothes?” Cordelia asked
admiring Willow’s new style. Anya gave Willow a knowing smile and
answered for her.
“When she started going shopping with me,” she laughed, and the three
of
them left the house quickly, their soft, collective laughter drifting
back to the watcher and the vampire.
Giles looked at Spike, a small smile spreading across his face.
“You’ve been misbehaving, haven’t you?” he asked, looking at the
vampire’s distracted gaze.
“Who, me?” he asked innocently, “never!”
*********
Part 13

Willow’s mind reeled from excitement, she was shopping with two of her
best friends. Their closeness had crept up on the sorrow-filled witch
weeks ago, the two other woman being strong support beams, holding her
up, determined not to see her fall deeper into the misery that had
claimed her as her own. Spike had been there too, granted, but he was
limited to remaining inside the watcher’s house unless escorted by the
slayer and thus couldn’t take her out and bring back some of the light
that had been lost when Oz had woken up with his bitch beside him.
The three of them toted several shopping bags, all sorts of fabulous
item filling them. They were heading towards a lingerie shop, after
many
prodding and insistent demands from Anya, when the former demon stopped
dead in her tracks and her eyes locked with the tall, blonde woman. She
dropped her bags and rushing over to the woman. She grinned happily as
the other woman flung her arms around the smaller one, while Anya
returned the fierce hug.
“Tallia!” she grinned, pulling back from the blonde. The grin was
returned as the blonde began walking back towards the two other women
who were waiting patiently for Anya’s return.
“It’s just Tally now,” she smiled, taking in the sight of the redhead.
“I take it my prophecy is fulfilling itself?” she asked. Anya nodded,
calming herself from the sight of her dear old friend.
“Quite, Willow’s come to her full powers now, but she’s still a little
tired from the sudden change. The ‘threat’ to the hellmouth hasn’t made
an appearance yet though,” she sighed. “The slayer is being a nuisance
too, thinks she can change the course of the prophecy.” She snorted, “I
swear that girl is so annoying sometimes.”
At that moment Anya was struck with the sensation of being human,
totally and completely human. She ached for the power she once
possessed, if only to help her friend, but knew, sadly, that her time
as
a demon was past. Nothing would change that, no matter what she did.
“That’s a given Anya, Slayers come out of the womb whining,” Tally
laughed, knowing full well the truth of her words. “My little fiend
will
show up soon enough though, and then the fun will really start.” She
grinned, looking down at the smaller woman. By then, they had rejoined
the other two wearing matching smiles.
Anya looked at the two, who had paused their previous conversation the
moment the two arrived.
“Willow, Cordy, this is Tally, Tal, this is Willow and Cordelia.” Anya
smiled, picking up her bags.
“Cordelia, like from King Lear?” Tally asked curiously. Cordelia
nodded,
a little confused at who exactly this woman was.
“She’s the prophetess I was talking about yesterday.” Anya explained
upon seeing the matching pair of questioning looks.
“So you’re the one who got me into this mess,” Willow said with a
smile.
“Thanks,” she grinned, and the four of them erupted into laughter.
They continued walking towards Victoria’s Secret, Anya hurrying them
along, her mind set once again, in its normal, hormonal course. Willow
and Cordelia spoke enthusiastically about plans for tomorrow while Anya
and Tally caught up on about a hundred years of lost time.
They entered the store and Anya made a bee-line for the slinky
negligees
she so often bought there, Tally in tow, while Willow and Cordelia
looked around at most of the fancy underthings.
“So, Willow, are you going to get Spike a little present?” Cordy asked
teasingly as Willow eyed a hunter green teddy.
“Any gift I get him here would be far from small,” she said laughingly,
showing the taller woman the price tag.
“I suppose so, but you were thinking about it, weren’t you?” she asked,
dying for a true girlie-talk.
“Yeah,” the red head flushed, looking at some of the more revealing
items in the store. “I mean, it *is* Spike…” she trailed off,
remembering the wonderful torture he’d put her through earlier.
“You really like him, don’t you?” Cordy asked, looking at her friend’s
dreamy look. The redhead nodded.
“Tell you a secret?” she asked, pulling herself out of her daze. Cordy
shrugged.
“Sure, you know you can trust me, I mean who am I going to tell?
Harmony?” she laughed, and the redhead joined her, thinking of the
pathetic excuse for a vampire.
“I think I’m falling for him,” she said softly, fingering the soft
material of another teddy. Cordy smiled down at the small woman.
“I know he’s fallen for you, Wills, you’ve got nothing to worry about,”
she smiled, remembering the several occasions she’d seen Spike’s
adoring
gaze fall to the small redhead in the past twenty-four hours.
“Except Buffy, Angel and Xander,” she said, coldness seeping into her
voice with each of the names.
“What do they know?” Cordy asked lightly, trying to reassure her
friend.
“Angel is pussy whipped, to borrow a term, and Buffy can think of
nothing but herself, and if you think for a second that Anya would let
Xander screw this up, then you underestimate her.” She said, knowing
that every word she spoke was true, and thus excusing herself from the
guilt of her cruel words. Willow smiled and looked up at the brunette.
“You still haven’t decided on using tact, have you?” she grinned,
hugging the woman in silent thanks.
“Tact is just saying not true stuff,” she smiled, trying to recall her
exact words from what seemed so long ago. “I think I’ll stick to being
brutally honest, thank you very much,” she grinned and returned the hug
before releasing the girl. Willow laughed and they continued to search
for something interesting to look at.
Anya looked at Tally, picking out yet another piece of lingerie.
“You made a dead on match, Tal, no doubt about it,” she smiled, heading
to the next rack of slinky things.
“I know,” she replied with a proud smile, “but you’ll love the little
twist in this one…” she smiled looking down at the brunette woman, who
had finally taken her last item from the store and moved towards the
counter, pulling out her credit card.
She looked over at the green teddy Willow had been looking at earlier
and hurried over to snatch it, putting it with the other things as the
cashier rung it up. Tally looked at her, a questioning look on her
face.

“A present for Spike,” she smiled, “your prophecy doesn’t need any
help,
but I thought I’d give it anyway,” she slid her credit card across the
counter.
“A little encouragement never hurt anyone,” Tally grinned back as Anya
asked the cashier to wrap the green teddy in a separate box. Anya
smiled
and took the bag and they both headed out to the bench which Willow and
Cordelia both occupied.
“Finally!” Willow sighed, looking at Anya with a grin. “You and Xander
must be really busy,” Anya nodded dismissing the comment as if it were
common knowledge.
“Come on, I’m hungry,” Cordy said, rising and moving towards the food
court. The three others followed eagerly, sharing the brunette’s
enthusiasm as they reached the food court.
They split off, each returning to the table they’d left their thing at
with a different tray of food. Willow had a small, Japanese styled tin
containing sushi on her little red tray. Cordelia returned with a plate
full of Chinese food, a small bowl of shark fin soup balanced
precariously in the corner of the full tray. Anya returned with a small
menagerie of several types of Thai food on her tray. Tally returned
after a long wait carrying a tray containing a slice of pizza, a coke
and a small cup of ice cream.
They talked happily of everything imaginable, from men to movies, and
they listened intently as Tally explained the events that had led up to
her drawing of the prophecy.
Apparently, shortly after Druscilla had become the sorceress she had
been Spike had gotten annoyed with her childlike behavior, something
that surprised both Willow and Cordelia to no end. He had met Tally and
they’d had a little affair for about a week or so before Dru had found
out. She threatened to kill the prophetess for stealing away ‘her
Spike’, but found that the woman was protected by many outstanding
demons, D’Hoffryn included, who had an investment in the woman’s future
as a demon.
Tally had laughed at the dark vampiress, unimpressed by the threats.
When the crazed vampire had threatened to kill Spike, whom Tally had
grown very fond of, she drew the prophecy that stated that, when
Druscilla’s time in this world drew to a close, another would be sent
to
take her place. Druscilla was furious at the thought of being replaced.
She ignored the rest of the prophecy, as it didn’t concern her, and
left
the city with Spike in a vicious tirade.
Spike, on the other hand, was deeply interested in the prophecy, and he
returned after a month of absence, asking for an explanation. She’d
explained the prophecy to the blonde vampire as much as possible, but
sighed sadly when he begged for more clarity, saying simply that, if it
came to pass, he mustn’t know the whole meaning of it. He had left her
with a smile on his face and her friendship warming his cold heart.
She’d loved him once, but after the jealous threats of his vampiric
lover, they had parted as friends and remained so until one slowly
forgot the other.
Willow was the first to speak after the tale was over.
“So you, uh, drew the prophecy to be sure Spike was happy?” she asked,
her eyes filling with wonder. Tally nodded.
“He was my friend, still is I suppose, I want him to be happy, and I
made sure of it,” she said simply.
“That’s amazing,” Cordy grinned, “I wish I had friends like that,” she
sighed wistfully, wishing also that she had Doyle back.
“You do,” Tally smiled, taking the brunette’s hand. “I promise you I’ll
find a way to bring him back,” she grinned, and Cordelia looked up at
her in wonder.
“Thank you,” she finally whispered, tears of gratitude forming in her
eyes. “Thank you so much.”
******
Part 14

The four women returned to Giles’ house at around four, laden down with
many shopping bags and pleasantly full, their gossipy laughter drifted
through one of the open windows, alerting both the watcher and the
vampire of their return.
Giles and Spike had spent a pleasantly quiet day in the house,
alternating between research and playing various card games. Giles had
beat Spike four times at cribbage before the vampire had skunked him
twice. After that, both were thoroughly tired of the game, and switched
to poker. They’d played for money until Spike had run out of pocket
change, and then they switched to gambling for chores they shared
around
the house. In the end Spike had been stuck with making supper for the
next week, while Giles was left to clean the bathroom and both
bedrooms.
Spike grinned smugly at the watcher as they both set down their cards
and ended the game.
The four women entered the house, setting down the many bags they had
with them on the floor by the doorway.
“Is that all you bought?” Giles asked, his eyes widening in shock at
the
vast amount of shopping bags cluttering his entryway.
“No, there’s more out in the car, could you come help us bring them
in?”
Cordy asked sweetly, batting her eyes at the watcher. He groaned and
rose to his feet, reluctantly shuffling out to Anya’s sports car. He
took five of the various bags and brought them in, stepping over the
ones already there and setting them down on the table. He sighed and
looked at Anya. She laughed merrily, setting down the bags she’d
brought
in.
“Willow’s got the last of them,” she said, much to the relief of the
watcher. He sank into a chair, looking at the bags.
“Are all of these clothing?” he asked as Willow set down the last of
them and shut the door behind her. She looked at Cordelia, Tally and
Anya, sorting out whose bag was whose.
“Course not, silly,” Willow laughed, joining the rest of them, “some of
them are shoes!” both Giles and Spike groaned, looking at each other
and
shaking their heads.
Spike joined Giles at the table, watching the four women intently, he
caught a flash of blonde hair and dismissed it as the slayer.
Anya found her Victoria’s Secret bag and grinned, passing the box to
Willow.
“A little encouragement,” she whispered, but not so softly that the
comment escaped the vampire’s ears. Willow opened the box lid and
peered
in, she colored quickly and shut the box tightly. She didn’t notice the
look that passed between the vampire and the former demon.
“Uhhh, thanks Anya,” she smiled and set the box aside with her other
things. Spike grinned at the box, wondering what exactly was in the box
that made the sorceress blush so deeply. They got their things sorted
and Willow and Cordelia both brought their bags into Spike’s bedroom,
Willow putting her new finds in her dresser while Cordy simply left the
bags beside the dresser, before helping Willow sort through the items
she’d bought. Cordelia found the box Anya had giver the redhead and
opened it, removing the green teddy, grinning like a cat.
“Anya?” she asked, holding it up to the redhead. Willow nodded, taking
the teddy and placing it carefully in the top drawer of the dresser.
“She’s very generous, you know” Cordy’s smile widened. “It’d be rude
not
to use it.”
“Believe me, her generosity will not go to waste,” Willow grinned,
shutting the drawer. They finished putting away the redhead’s clothes
quickly and rejoined their friends in Giles’ living room. Willow sat
down next to Spike, and the vampire wrapped a protective arm around the
petite redhead. She rested her head on his shoulder and sighed, glad to
be back in his arms. Cordy smiled at the sight from the armchair where
she sat.
Anya and Tally returned from their cars, settling on the floor opposite
the coffee table. Giles returned and sat next to Willow, handing her a
cup of tea. She took it gratefully and sipped it carefully. Giles was
looking at Tally, wondering why a strange woman was sitting in his
living room. Anya noticed the stare and mentally kicked herself.
“Giles, Spike, this is Tally, she drew the prophecy concerning Willow,”
she smiled. Tally grinned at the watcher and shook his hand. Spike
smiled warmly at the woman and Willow felt a pang of jealousy shoot
through her as the blonde rose and hugged the vampire at her side. “I
saw her at the mall and we’ve been catching up all day, I thought it
might be useful to have her around, since she might be able to help us
out.” She former demon grinned at her longtime friend, “Her prophecies
are always hell to figure out,” she finished, ignoring the playful swat
she received as a result.
“It’s really not that hard to figure out, but this is my favorite one,”
Tally grinned, “I wouldn’t want to give away the surprise,” she laughed
lightly, and the others joined her.
“So, what did you girls buy?” Spike drawled, looking at Anya and then
Willow, silently demanding to know what type of ‘encouraging’ gift Anya
had bought.
“Shoes, clothes, lots of stuff,” Willow said, shooting a warning look
at
Anya, who was grinning, determined not to spoil her surprise.
“Care to model them for me luv?” Spike grinned at Willow, his eyes
flashing wickedly. Willow laughed brightly, the rich peal of mirth
bubbling forth from her lips and sweetly filling the room.
“You wish, we’d be here for hours!” Cordy smiled, her laugh mingling
with Willow, creating a divine melody.
“Maybe later,” Anya suggested, looking at Willow, who flushed deeply,
shaking her head.
“Maybe,” she sighed, allowing herself to be puled tighter against
Spike’s hard body. Tally grinned at the exchange between the sorceress
and the former demon. She looked up as the door was pushed open and the
slayer entered the house, looking none too pleased at the sight of
Spike’s arm around Willow. Angel and Xander followed her inside. Xander
moved towards the group of seated people, human or otherwise, and
settled himself next to Anya’s smiling form. He wrapped an arm around
her and kissed her briefly.
“Hey Cordy,” he smiled, looking at the brunette warmly, “I’m sorry I
jumped to conclusions last night,” he said to Spike and Cordelia both,
surprising everyone, even Buffy and Angel. They stood their distance
from the group, looking more or less as if they’d both been forced to
watch 5 consecutive hours of the Brady bunch. Spike nodded, saying
nothing, and Xander turned to Cordy, looking forlornly at his former
girlfriend. “Cordy, I really am sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you any
more than you already were, it’s just that it was Spike…” he trailed
off
and the brunette finished for him.
“and you thought he’d done something to hurt me. I know, Xander, it’s
okay, I know you didn’t mean it,” she smiled at him. Rising and moving
over to him, embracing him delicately. “It’s good to see you, you big
idiot,” she ginned, kissing him gently on the cheek.
“Its good to see you too, Cordy,” he touched her cheek, “don’t feel too
low, I’m sure we can find a way to bring him back for you.” Cordy
nodded, crawling back to the armchair she’d occupied before.
“I hope so,” Cordy sighed, shaking her head sadly, “I miss him so
much.”
She sighed, covering her eyes and shuddering. She only opened them when
she felt Angel’s arms around her. She shoved him off violently.
Everyone
stared at her in surprise.
“Cordy?” Angel asked, looking at her in hurt shock.
“Don’t touch me Angel,” she said softly, refusing to look at him.
“Cordy, I just wanted to—” he said softly, reaching out to her only to
have his hand slapped away.
“Yeah, well you could’ve done something last night too, but instead you
started yelling at Spike, and completely ignored *me*,” she shot a look
at Buffy as well, but said nothing to the slayer. “You could have
thought about something other than acting the hero and maybe tried to
make me feel better instead of worse,” she glared at him coldly.
“Cordy, I thought—” he began to protest, but was cut off again.
“You thought?” she scoffed, “I find that hard to believe. Be a man,
Angel, admit you were wrong just this once.” She rose from her chair,
seeing that the vampire wasn’t intending to move. She situated herself
next to Spike, simply because she knew how much it would bother the
dark
vampire. Willow reached out and touched the woman’s knee, as if to tell
her that she was behind her, whatever happened. Cordelia covered the
hand and smiled at the redhead.
Angel growled at the blonde vampire, whose hand was resting lightly on
Cordelia’s arm. Buffy looked away, disgusted.
“How can sit next him, either of you?” she asked heartlessly. Cordy
refused to answer, her arms crossed across her chest. Willow looked up
at Spike, hurt in her eyes. She curled up closer to him, resting her
head on his chest, ignoring the slayer’s disdainful comment.
“Just look at him, Slayer,” Tally laughed, breaking the silence, “he’s
dead sexy, to borrow the term,” she smiled at Spike, who smiled back,
his hand leaving Cordelia’s arm and stroking Willow’s arm while the
other rested atop her head.
“Ugh, how crude,” Buffy frowned.
“Looks like somebody’s been expanding her vocabulary,” Anya chuckled to
Xander, who smiled, but shot her a look of warning to go with it.
“Who are you, anyway?” Buffy continued, not hearing Anya’s comment.
“Tallia,” she replied coldly, “Tally to my friends, but you can call me
Tallia,” she said. Buffy rolled her eyes.
“That’s very interesting, but why are you here?” the slayer snapped.
“She drew the prophecy, Buffy,” Giles said, tired of his slayer’s
insolent attitude.
“Oh,” she said indignantly.
“Buffy stop it,” Xander said after the slayer began glaring at Spike in
the silence that filled the room.
“Stop what?” she asked innocently enough, truly believing she was doing
nothing wrong.
“Stop behaving like a child,” Willow snapped, rising from her place and
turning to face the slayer. “You can’t deal with the fact that Spike is
helping us,” said, placing her hands on her hips.
“Spike isn’t helping you, he deceiving you,” the slayer retorted. “Do
you really think he’s interested in you, Willow?” she scoffed, looking
the girl up and down, sneering at the ensemble she wore. “What did you
do, borrow some of Cordy’s clothes?”
“That’s enough out of you, Slayer,” Spike snarled, jumping up and
putting a protective arm around Willow’s waist. “Shut up and play nice
or leave now and don’t come back until you’re ready to be civil,” Spike
snarled, pulling Willow tight against him. Willow carefully pulled
herself out of Spike’s arms.
“I can deal with this myself, Spike,” she said softly, waiting before
he
sat back down to move towards Buffy.
“Why are you saying these things to me?” she asked softly, looking at
the blonde with hurt evident in her gaze. “I thought you cared about
me.”
“I do, Willow,” Buffy insisted, touching the sorceress’ arm, Spike
snarled softly, but was silenced by Cordelia’s hush whisper and her
hand
on his arm.
“Let her do this, Spike,” the brunette said. Spike nodded reluctantly,
watching the two standing figures intently.
“Then why can’t you let me be happy with Spike?” she asked quietly,
looking at the hand on her arm.
“Because I know he’ll only hurt you,” the blonde said. “You don’t
deserve that, not so soon after Oz.”
“How do you know he’ll hurt me? And why can’t you believe that I can
protect myself from him?” she asked, her voice rising slightly.
“Because,” Buffy said, “he’s a vampire, Will, you’re don’t stand a
chance against him!”
“I do so, Buffy, I’m a sorceress now, I can do a lot more than you give
me credit for.”
“You aren’t a sorceress, Will, you may dabble with magick, but those
spells always go wrong!”
“She is a sorceress, slayer, and a powerful one at that too, no vampire
can hurt her without suffering the consequences from her protectors.”
Tally cut in, her eyes flashing dangerously from her place on the
floor.

“And who are they?” Buffy demanded, not believing the demon prophetess.
“Myself and Spike,” she said bluntly, eliciting startled gazes from
everyone save Anya, Spike and Willow herself.
“Anyone harms her they answer to me too,” Anya said forcefully, looking
at Tally. “I may not have my powers as a demon anymore, but I can still
pack a mean punch,” she smiled over at the demon, who nodded in
acceptance.
Buffy shook her head in disbelief. “No,” she insisted, “Spike is not
her
protector. I don’t believe it, I’ll kill him first,” she said, removing
a stake and advancing on Spike who was helpless against her due to the
implant. Tally moved quickly, grabbing the slayer’s wrist and twisting
her arm backward at a painful angle. Buffy cried out in pain and Angel
tried to move to help her but found himself frozen under Willow’s
stare,
her eyes glowing violet. Tally held the slayer tightly, not even
allowing her to move.
“Now, now, Slayer, that wouldn’t be playing fair now, would it?” she
mocked. Giles shook his head, dragging himself from his shocked state.
“Enough, all of you. Buffy, you will not touch Spike, and you will stay
out whatever relationship he and Willow have, Tallia, set her down, she
won’t hurt him.” Tallia slowly released the slayer, returning to her
place on the floor, Buffy shrugged her shoulders, loosening the
tightness in them. “Give me the stake,” Giles instructed firmly. The
slayer complied angrily and sat down on the floor, next to Xander.
“What about me?” Angel asked, still immobilized, though Willow had
returned to her place next to Spike.
“What about you?”
“I can’t move,” he said forlornly. Giles looked at Willow who simply
shrugged.
“Willow, let him go,” Giles said, firmly, careful of his tone.
“Do I have to?” she asked pleadingly, when Giles kept his stern gaze
fixed on her she protested, justifying her actions, “he was going to
hurt Tally!”
“I was not,” he insisted, Willow glared at him, and his mouth was
promptly sealed shut.
“Willow,” Giles warned.
“He’s less annoying that way,” Anya said laughingly, “you should leave
him like that.”
“Willow, luv, let him up,” Spike said softly, touching her hair gently.
“You don’t want him here all night, do you?” he reasoned. Willow
smiled.

“I guess not,” she sighed, waving her hand almost mindlessly, and Angel
fell forwards, holding his jaw. He glared at Willow.
“That wasn’t very nice, Willow,” he stated harshly.
“Watch yourself, Angel, or I’ll do it again and leave you there,” she
warned, her eyes glinting with the same violet glow as before.
“You’ve been hanging around Spike too long,” he grumbled softly.
“Nonsense,” Willow said, looking up at the blonde vampire, “you can
never had too much of a good thing,” She giggled softly and Spike
smiled, lowering his mouth to hers and kissing her gently.
Anya smiled broadly, as did both Tally and Cordelia. Xander wore of
look
of shocked stupidity, but didn’t object to the kiss, even silently.
Giles looked rather uncomfortable, but didn’t mind so much, they
deserved each other after so much trouble. Angel and Buffy shared a
useless look of disgust and hatred towards Spike, mixed evenly with
fear
for Willow.
The kiss was over before anyone had the chance to protest. Willow
smiled, resting her head on Spike’s chest and closed her eyes, wanting
nothing more than to feel his arms around her.
The peace of the room was upset abruptly with a sharp rap on the door.
Tally smiled to Anya and whispered, “He’s here,” before Giles rose from
his place on the couch to answer the door.
To say the watcher was surprised at the sight of the small man who
stood
on his welcome mat would be a drastic understatement. The man was
dumbfounded, stuttering like a schoolboy. Buffy, who couldn’t see the
man’s face sighed and called over to her watcher.
“Giles, who is it?”
“It’s Oz,” the watcher said, finally finding his voice and stepping
aside so the werewolf could enter the apartment before shutting the
doors.
“Hey guys,” he said anxiously, “where’s Willow?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~``
Part 15:
Part 15

Willow’s eyes snapped open, Oz’s voice filled the room and her heart
began beat ten times faster, threatening to explode. Spike, upon hearing
the rapid speed of her heart, gave her a quick kiss on her sweet mouth,
still swollen from their last kiss, and released her from his hold. She
didn’t move, and Spike replaced his arm, wondering at the little woman
who now wielded such great amounts of power.
Willow wished with all her heart that Oz was gone, or, more accurately,
that he had stayed gone after his first trip into gonness. She snuggled
impossibly closer to Spike and curled her fingers around his hand.
“Guys?” Oz asked when no one answered his question, “where’s Will, I
need to talk to her.” Anya looked at Willow and then at Xander, who was
about to speak, she elbowed him sharply, looking at him, threatening
death if he spoke. Angel found his mouth once again wired shut as Willow
sensed his words forming on his tongue. Tally simply looked on in
amusement. Giles had lost his voice yet again, and shuffled off into the
kitchen to make some tea for himself, and, most likely, everyone else
situated in the small living room.
It was Buffy who spoke, a wicked plan forming in her mind. Willow had
forgotten about the slayer, and remembered her only too late, unable to
shut her up conspicuously.
“She’s here, Oz, I think she’s sleeping on the couch,” Buffy grinned,
ushering Oz further into the house.
Spike shook his redhead softly, whispering “time to face the music,
luv,” in her ear, so softly only the demons (and former demons) could
catch the words. Willow pretended to be asleep, closing her eyes and
evening her breathing, consciously willing her body into alpha state.
‘This magick stuff is really useful,’ she thought to herself, silently
scolding herself afterwards, ‘magick is used for good, Willow,’ she
reminded herself, ‘not avoiding old boyfriends.’
The first thing that caught Oz’s attention was Spike, sitting relaxed on
the couch; the next was the redhead curled up in his protective embrace.

“Look,” Anya sneered, looking at Oz; “the mutt came back.” Xander hushed
her.
“Anya, be nice. For now, at least,” he said, looking at Oz warningly. Oz
noted the warning and nodded in silent thanks.
“Uhm, Willow?” the wolf asked softly, looking at the redhead. Spike
shook her gently.
“Red, wake up, you’ve got a visitor,” he said softly, brushing the hair
off her face.
“I don’t wanna wake up, Spike, I wanna stay here, with you,” she mumbled
in mock sleepiness, Spike smiled at the little sorceress, kissing her
forehead.
“Come on, Red, the dog came back, wants to see you,” he said, shaking
her again. She moaned.
“No, Spike, tell him to go away, I wanna sleep,” she protested against
his insistent shaking. Spike looked up at Oz, shrugging his shoulders.
“I can’t wake her when she’s like this, mate, you can try if you want,”
the vampire said, keeping an arm around the redhead. Oz moved closer,
much against Spike’s liking, but he let the dog shake the redhead
gently.
“Willow?” he asked softly, “Willow its Oz,” he continued, “Willow please
wake up, I want to talk to you…” he said pleadingly. Willow stirred much
against her instincts and look up at Spike. He nodded and let her out of
his arms. She sat up and looked at Oz, her yes full of malice, purple
flecks collecting, threatening to take over her green eyes.
“What do you want?” she said, her words clipped and unfeeling.
“To talk,” he said, “I’ve worked some things out with myself, and—” he
looked around the room, “could we talk privately?” he asked, suddenly
aware of the numerous set of eyes boring into him, particularly those of
the blonde vampire on the couch, and the blonde stranger on the floor.
It seemed as if they were trying to sear his flesh with their stares,
which, in fact, they were. Willow sighed, looking at Spike fleetingly
before standing up and heading towards the door, not saying a word.
“Okay, Oz, I’m awake, we’re alone, now talk,” she said coolly, masking
the anger that threatened to consume her perfectly, “and it better be
good, I was really comfortable back there,” she said, hoping the mutt
would get the hint. He did, but ignored it.
“Well, like I said, I’ve had time to work things out and I want to give
us another shot, I know what I did was terribly wrong, but you have to
understand my reasons for ding what I did, Willow,” he looked into her
eyes imploringly. She simply snorted.
“You woke me up to say that?” she asked coldly. He kept his imploring
look on, not answering, looking all too much like a puppy dog who’d
recently been kicked; severely. “Look Oz, I don’t have to do anything,
let alone understand or condone what you did to me,” she said, her eyes
flashing dangerously with violet light.
“Willow, she could have hurt someone out there,” he pleaded with her, “I
had to get her in that cage!”
“Guess what, Oz, she hurt someone from in the cage as well,” she said
with unnerving calmness. “So did you,” she turned on her heel and was
reaching for the door when he grabber her arm violently.
“Willow, you can’t leave me!” he said insistently.
“Oz, you left me, remember?” she said coldly, her fury collecting,
though the only sign of it was the violet light that had taken over her
eyes. She tried to shake off his hand, but his grip was strong.
“Oz,” she said calmly, turning to face him, “let me go,” each word was
punctuated by the soft glow in her eyes increasing slightly.
“No, I can’t accept that you don’t still care for me, Willow, I know you
love me!” he stated; though hysteria had seeped into his normally calm
voice.
“Guess what Oz,” she said coldly, gripping his hand with burning force,
“I don’t,” she threw his hand off and shoved him back with her mind.
“You can’t have changed so much in only a month,” he said quietly.
She was about to go back inside when a wicked smiled crossed her face.
She turned to face him again, and he noticed the violet glare that had
consumed her eyes.
“Oh no?” she laughed coldly, “you’re not a wise as you think Oz, not as
hot either.” She laughed looking him up and down; his clothes were ratty
and over worn, his hair grown so that half of it was his original color
while the rest was the same as it had been when he’d left. His eyes were
old and weary looking, housed deep in two dark hollows of his skull.
“I’ve moved on, Oz, to bigger and better men,” she laughed at his
shocked expression.
“Willow—” he looked as if his eyes would pop right out of his head.
“Oh don’t be so surprised, Oz, do you really think I’m as sweet and
innocent as I had you believe?” she scoffed, laying it on thick, “I’ve
been fucking Spike for almost three weeks,” she laughed coldly at his
crushed expression. “I have to say, he a hell of a better lay than you
are,” she grinned, “twice the man you are too, and I mean that both
figuratively and literally.” She laughed again, a cold and wicked sound;
it sent shivers down the wolf’s back.
“Willow, why are you saying this to me?” he asked echoing her earlier
words.
“Because I love you, Oz,” she snorted, “I thought you wanted to see me
happy,” she pouted mockingly.
“I wanted to see you happy in my arms, not those of a vicious killer,”
his words were intended as sharp, but came out quivering weakly.
“Oh, tosh,” she snickered, batting the notion away with her hand. “He
doesn’t bite,” she paused, smiling wickedly, “unless I want him to,” she
placed a hand on her throat and removed it, two tiny prick marks were
revealed to the werewolf, who snarled protectively. Willow laughed
again, that same vicious peal of laughter tearing through the silence of
the night. “Oz, I was never your mate, don’t act like I was, you didn’t
have the stones to claim me as yours,” she smiled at the pained look on
his face.
“Willow, I don’t—” he stammered.
“Besides, it wouldn’t have mattered, I’m immortal now anyway, was before
too, just didn’t know it then,” she was surprised at the words she was
speaking, but knew them to be true. “If you had bitten me nothing would
have happened, well, except for the whole claiming me as yours thing,
but that would have been easily remedied.” She laughed at him, relishing
the satisfaction she got from hurting him the way he’d hurt her.
“Hurt’s doesn’t it?” she sneered, “words can hurt just as much as
silence, Oz, but I’ll let you make your decision,” she snickered. “Give
you a taste of both,” she said as she reentered the house, leaving the
wolf out on the door step, as dumbfounded at the watcher had been when
he’d found the mutt there in the first place.
Willow quietly shut the door behind hr, quickly brushing away the bite
marks she’s made appear on her neck. The rage quelled in the pit of her
stomach, the angry knot there smoothing out. She looked at the others, a
slow realization dawning on her.
“He’s the one,” she said suddenly, surprising everyone.
“Will, if he’s the one then why aren’t you off having Oz smoochies
instead of talking to us?” Buffy asked, not surprised by what the
sorceress had said.
“No, you twat,” Willow snapped, glaring at the slayer, sensing the pain
that had momentarily shot through her heart’s protector. “Not *that*
one,” she said, looking directly at Spike, reassuring him that he held
the foremost place in her heart.
“He’s the one who’ll open the hellmouth,” she said plainly. “He’s the
one I have to kill.”
**********
Part 16

After a moment of dead silence the room erupted in chaotic shots, both
protesting and otherwise, and a thin, rich peal of laughter at the
commotion that went unnoticed by all, except Anya and Willow. Buffy’s
voice was heard clearly over the rest.
“Willow, you have got to be crazy!” the slayer insisted, looking at the
determined face of the sorceress. “Ok, maybe he broke your heart, but
that doesn’t mean you have to kill him!”
“Don’t presume that that mutt had power enough over me to break my
heart!” the sorceress spat venomously.
“Will, you can’t kill him!” Xander said, his voice overpowering the
slayers, “he couldn’t open the hellmouth even if he wanted to!”
Willow ignored the other cries of protest and looked directly at Spike.
She felt horrible about the blatant lie she’d told the wolf, not because
she’d lied to the bastard, but because she’d used Spike, and crudely at
that. She knew he probably wouldn’t mind, since she intended on making
it up to him later on, after the whole mess was sorted out. She looked
to him, silently asking him what he thought. His eyes showed no reprove
of her words, and she smiled, crossing the room and capturing his mouth
in a bruising kiss. He tried to pull her closer to him, only to find the
couch was obstinately in the way. Cordelia, sensing imminent danger to
her person, jumped away, just before Willow’s legs were swung over the
back of the couch, and Spike set her atop the couch, kneeling between
her legs.
Her mouth claimed his, something he had no problem with, and her hot
tongue forced its way into the cold cavern of his mouth. Her taste was
with him again and her sunk his fingers in her hair after quickly
pulling out the sticks embedded in it’s silkiness and freeing her
lustrous locks, pulling her head closer, his tongue slipping into her
mouth, immediately assaulted by the intense heat. Their tongues battled
for dominance, neither winning, but neither losing.
Buffy snarled internally, her face contorting in something that could be
recognized as jealousy. Cordelia, slightly annoyed, was looking on with
exhausted happiness for her friend. Tally and Anya shared a contented
look as the witch’s body molded to that of the vampire. Xander looked on
in the same shocked disbelief as before, smacking himself for ever
thinking that the vampire would ever be able to hurt the sorceress, as
she had him wrapped tightly around her finger. Angel, disheartened by
Willow’s previous magickal restraints simply moved into the kitchen,
still unable to speak, as Willow had either forgotten or simply
neglected to free his jaw, which was wired firmly shut. Giles followed
Angel into the kitchen and they both shuffled uselessly through the
small space, hoping that the two oblivious creatures would come to their
senses soon.
Willow eventually sensed the uneasy thoughts of those around her and
pulled away from her protector gently, whispering softly, “tonight,”
both promise and threat, yet neither of the two at the same time.
She slipped onto the couch’s cushions, letting her soon-to-be lover to
envelop her in his arms. She looked to the kitchen, laughing to herself.

“You can come back now,” she called to them, and catching Angel’s irate
gaze, promptly did nothing to release his jaw, sending him a thought
message.
‘Angel, I’ll let you loose if you promise to play nice and keep your
jealous wretch of a slayer reigned in, can you do that?’ when he nodded
vehemently she smiled and subtly waved her hand, dismissing the spell
before covering the action by running her hand through her hair. She
looked at everyone, who looked right back at her. She laughed to
herself.
“Sit,” she commanded, they all complied, save Buffy who stood defiantly
by herself. Angel looked at her, but she ignored the message the look
contained. Her rose to his feet and stood behind her, looking at Willow
before bending and whispering something inaudible in her ear. The
slayer’s eyes widened and she sat quickly, much to Willow’s amusement.
The witch absently wondered what exactly the dark vampire had said. She
looked at the people watching her expectantly.
“Now, if you’ll all not shout, and try not to laugh,” she looked
directly a Tally as she said this last part, “then maybe we can talk
about this like the reasonable adults that we are. Well, at least *some*
of us, anyway,” she directed this last comment at the slayer who went
rigid, but couldn’t say anything, as Angel’s hand was firmly clapped
over her mouth.
Tally grinned, biting back laughter at the sight of the slayer, most
self-righteous of creatures, subject to her pussy-whipped vampire’s
disciplinary actions. Xander was the first to speak.
“Will, how do you know it’s Oz, I mean, he doesn’t seem like the ‘I’m
going to tear open the hellmouth and bring forth all the evil badness it
contains’ type of person,” he said, looking at his best friend
questioningly.
“Look, Xand,” Willow sighed, “he won’t be sneaking back here to steal
one of Giles’ tomes. He’ll most likely tear the hellmouth open
inadvertently, the fool that he is,” she spat out the words viciously,
knowing that’s exactly what the wolf would do, just not sure how he’d be
able to achieve the specific act of complete stupidity that would
threaten the world, yet again.
“Will, I find that hard to believe, I mean how can you inadvertently
tear open a hellmouth?” Cordelia asked quietly, truly pondering the
question, trying to see every angel of it.
“He could try and tear apart the balance that keeps the hellmouth
subdued,” Anya said, looking at Tally’s resigned look. Anya knew full
well that the demon wouldn’t explain the prophecy to the group, but she
might be able to coax it out of the prophetess later on.
“But what is it that balances the hellmouth?” Buffy asked, her mouth
released, though Angel still sat tentatively behind her, ready to shut
her up promptly after she started to agitate the sorceress.
“Well, it always used to be a strong point of good, and a strong point
of evil, if one was killed and not replaced soon then the hellmouth
would erupt, one way or another. Usually it was a slayer and a master
vampire, or, with the Faith incident, a good slayer and a bad slayer.
Each shared the same qualities, only the strengths of one were reflected
in the other’s weaknesses.” Giles explained, “but there isn’t a master
vampire, it seems, and I’m tending to favor the idea that those
balancing energies were transferred into less, uhm, temporary vessels,”
he said. Anya nodded.
“That makes sense, and since the slayer has no attachment to anything
evil that’s constantly on the hellmouth, the energies were probably put
into two other vessels,” she looked at Spike and Willow, “like say a
master vampire and a newborn sorceress,” she suggested. Willow looked up
at Spike.
“Hear that, luv, you’re stuck with me whether you like it or not,” Spike
grinned.
“I think I like it, rather than not.” She replied.
“It’s only a suggestion,” Buffy said, disliking the fact the Willow had
taken her place as the ‘good’ balance on the scale. “We don’t even know
if the balances have been changed, maybe the army guys that took Spike
are countering the good,” she said.
“I doubt it,” Spike said, “it looked like they were only collecting
demons, that doesn’t really count as evil in the general scheme of
things.”
“Well, anyway, if they are countering each other and keeping the
hellmouth subdued, what can Oz do to tear the hellmouth open?” Xander
asked, not really understanding the concept.
“He could kill one of them,” Anya said, calmly, “or try and tear them
apart permanently,” she suggested the last looking at both Angel and
Buffy with cold suggestion in her gaze.
“What would that do?” Buffy said indignantly, “so what if Spike and
Willow are groping each other every few seconds, so long as they’re
alive and on the hellmouth, everything should be fine.” Angel realized
only too late what Buffy had said and firmly fixed his hand over the
slayers mouth again.
“Think about it,” Anya said, some of the prophecy coming together for
her. “They balance each other perfectly as they are now, good and evil,
light and dark, kind and cruel, hot and cold,” she paused, trying to
gage if her point had gotten across.
“You think you could’ve gotten black and white in there too?” Buffy
sneered, taking Angel’s hand from her mouth. Both Tally and Willow
glared at the slayer. Willow’s eyes flared violet and both the vampire
and the slayer found their mouths wired tightly shut.
“Fire and Ice,” Tally murmured, looked proudly at Spike and Willow, “the
perfect match. They’re like two halves to one whole,” she looked dazed
and Anya looked at her worriedly, before addressing the others.
“She’s gone for the night, once she starts babbling like this, you’ll
never get her back.” She looked at Xander saying calmly, “I’ll take her
to my place, I’ll see you later?” he nodded and received a quick kiss
before Anya led the other woman out the door. Willow smiled tiredly,
looking at the rest of them.
“I’m tired,” she sighed. “Xander, go home, kay, get some rest and come
back tomorrow around noon,” she told him, smiling softly. He nodded,
weariness taking over him. She looked over at Buffy and Angel.
“Walk him home before getting yourselves back to home too.” She said,
taking Spike’s hand and standing, Buffy and Angel stood reluctantly,
looking at Willow expectantly, but she did nothing to remove the spell
she’d placed on them. “Get some rest,” she said simply. They left,
Xander following the silent figures with slight confusion.
Giles had risen and moved towards his room already. He bid the rest of
them a weary goodnight and disappeared.
“Cor, will you be alright on the couch tonight? It’s been a while since
I’ve slept in a real bed” Willow smiled, Cordelia nodded, giving her a
knowing smile before moving towards the bedroom.
“I’ll be a minute, then you’ll have the room all to yourselves,” she
called over her shoulder. Willow looked up at Spike, her eyes sparkling
brightly.
“I think you owe me a fashion show, pet,” he grinned lasciviously,
kissing her gently, and moving down the hall to wait for Cordelia to
finish with his room.
“I think I do,” Willow smiled, tugging him past Cordelia, sharing a
brief smile with the other woman before shutting the door tightly behind
her.
********
Part 17