ZZZZZ
The Bronze was, as usual, crowded. Bodies writhing against each
other under the cover of dancing, hands lingered or strayed in intimate
caresses as blood, laden with lust and hormones, pounded through the dancers,
keeping pace with the frantic tempo the music set. Amongst this throng of foreplay one couple stood out, perhaps it
was due to the dramatic differences between the two individuals, a small waif
of a blonde held in the arms of a tall, dark individual, someone who wasn’t
even a man and was centuries older than he appeared. The quintessential contradiction, the Slayer and her vampire
boyfriend, lovers who could, under the cover of dancing, hold each other close
in a pale imitation of the act of love that could never be realized.
From her spot on one of the many couches scattered around
the Bronze, Willow watched her friends.
Watched as they set each other on fire, as Angel pulled Buffy impossibly
closer to his writhing body, their arms tightly wrapped about each other in
their need as they swayed together.
Willow was so engrossed by her friends sensual dance that she totally
missed the lean body settling down next to her on the couch, never heard the
booted feet coming to rest on the low coffee table in front of her, nor did she
sense the arm that was casually slung across the back of the couch even though
it nearly brushed against her shoulders.
Not once did Willow realize that she had become trapped in the corner of
the couch, instead she watched her friends and their desperate dance.
"Hello, little girl," the North London accent and
smirking attitude of the voice startled Willow from her preoccupation and her
eyes widened in disbelief as she turned to find Spike. Anticipating her reaction to jump up and run
screaming in horror to the Slayer, he placed a light restraining hand on her
arm. "Now, now, pet, no need to fret.
I’ve already eaten, just thought I’d pop in for some
entertainment."
With that he let her go and began searching through his
pockets for his cigarettes. All she could do was stare at him dubiously, mouth
agape at his arrogance.
"D..d..don’t you think you could have picked a..a..a
better spot?" she stuttered as he pulled out a cigarette and tapped it on
the back of the pack. "I mean Buffy is just over there."
Willow jerked her head in the general direction of the
dance floor, knowing full well that Angel and Buffy were clearly visible on the
dance floor even though they were still dancing, totally oblivious to all that
was going on around them. Spike looked
toward the couple and let out a muffled snort as he lit his cigarette.
"Slayer’s too wrapped up in that great poof to notice
poor little me," he stuck his bottom lip out in a mock pout and he turned
to grin wickedly at the redhead. "So that just leaves you, witch."
"Me? For what," she gulped, swallowing back the
growing fear and thinking that it was not the best question to ask a vampire
who was so blasé about the Slayer being only a few feet away. She couldn’t help
but tense as Spike’s smirk fell away and his blue eyes fixed on her, an
unfathomable gaze that she couldn’t break, certain that if she tried to she’d
be dead before she could blink. His
silence was almost as unnerving as his gaze and she considered her options, the
best of which was trying to distract him long enough for the music to stop and
Buffy to save her from the blond. The
best way to distract most people was to ask about their love life and Willow
supposed it wasn’t any different for vampires.
“So…how’d things go with Drusilla?
Where is she?”
Willow tried her best to look interested and not terrified,
but her forehead wrinkled with worry while her mouth twisted into what she
hoped would pass for a ‘I really care’ smile.
There was the distinctive scent of fear in the air and Spike smirked at
her, his eyes wantonly roaming over her as he licked his lips, which of course
only distressed the redhead even more.
"She’s out and about,” he said with a flick of his
wrist towards the door of the Bronze.
“Stumbling around the countryside trying to find me."
"Oh, so she’s here in Sunnydale," Willow asked,
risking a brief glance over her shoulder to the dance floor and the still
oblivious couple.
"God no," he practically roared with laughter at
that and Willow’s eyes widened even more.
The almost maniacal laughter surely had to attract the attention of
Buffy, or at least Angel who would easily have been able to recognize it. But as Spike glanced over her shoulder, she
realized that it hadn’t. He took a deep
drag on his cigarette before removing it and watching the glowing cherry. "I left her in Brazil. A small amount
of torture and she was quite happy to follow me around – got a bit boring after
a while. She wants me, now she can come and get me! Last I heard she wasn’t
doing to bad – she should be here within the week," he knocked the ash off
the end of his cigarette and glanced up at Willow before turning his attention
to the dance floor, shaking his head at the wanton display. "Look at that bloody pathetic excuse
for dance."
Willow turned her head, watching the multitude of couples
writhing and riving together. Behind her, Spike inched closer, leaning forward
to take in the same scene. She wasn’t
aware that he’d moved, that he was so intimately close, until she turned her
head again and her forehead nearly collided with his. He was intently staring at the crowded dance floor and the
various couples on it, but thankfully he was quite content to carry on with the
conversation.
"I mean what’s the challenge, eh? Lock bodies together
and squirm? It’s disgusting," he spat the last word out and fixed his eyes
on Willow once more. "So how come you’re not out there, rubbing up against
a body?"
"Well, Oz … he’s um, well he’s not, you know,
here," she didn’t even try to smile this time, he was too close for
comfort and she had to force herself to remain seated, not to follow her
instinct and get up and run screaming from him.
"Oz?" he questioned, not taking his eyes off
Willow and she broke his gaze, her eyes wandering down to take in the pale hand
that held his cigarette.
"Yeah, you know. Oz…my boyfriend,” she grimaced and
would have slapped herself for giving away personal information to some
blood-sucking fiend, but her hands were clenched into fists and firmly caught
under her folded arms. It was time for
another diversion, preferably away from her personal life and back to something
that may eventually attract Buffy’s attention, so she glanced back at the dance
floor. “What’s wrong with the dancing?
I think it’s, kinda, well, kinda, sexy."
She regretted the comment as soon as it left her mouth.
Willow was quite certain that there were any number of big no-nos when it came
to conversations with bloodthirsty vampires, two of which were definitely
giving away personal details and the mention of anything vaguely sexual. The massive blunder, coupled with the
knowledge of Spike’s gaze still heavily fixed on her, made her blush furiously
and she glanced away.
"Well, Willow," he let her name rumble in his
throat as he spoke softly into her ear and she bit her tongue, her eyes wildly
fixing on the couple who were continuing their dance. "There’s no
challenge. It may be sexy, but it isn’t exactly seduction, is it?"
Hesitantly, Willow glanced up, meeting his cold blue eyes for a brief moment
before she turned back to the scene playing out on the dance floor. "There’s nothing seductive or powerful
in two individuals blatantly rubbing up against each other, coping a quick
grope and a cheap thrill. It’s nothing
more than crap. Now give me the tango
or even good old jive, that’s what dancing is about. You see it’s more than just moving to music.” Willow couldn’t help it, she had to look at
him. But he wasn’t watching her, or at
least it didn’t seem like he was, his attention had wandered and his eyes had
darkened with an intensity that Willow didn’t recognize or understand. “It’s about power and control, domination,
in a way it’s about trust,” In the dark confines of the club his eyes appeared
nearly black as they locked on hers again and he tilted his head, watching her
intently. “One person in complete control while the other yields to their every
whim, the result is nothing more than mind-blowing pleasure. The chance meeting of flesh, that teasing
feel of fingers caressing skin, the tantalizing sensation of bodies intimately
moving together. When you dance,
there’s nothing else, no one else except the person you hold in your arms, you
know what you want and what your partner wants. Dancing is not this bloody bury your body in mine crap. Which, by the by, is only sexy, Willow,
because you know no better…if you really knew how to dance, if you knew the
charms of dancing, then you’d be able to see what this,” he flicked his
cigarette butt towards the dance floor. “Really is ~ nothing more than a
nauseating sham. You only dance with
your boyfriend? That’s new."
"What?" Willow frowned, snapping out of the
trance that his words had created and she drew back slightly. It had to be an illusion, he was trying to
fool her, throw her off guard, and she silently berated herself for being so
stupid as to fall for it.
"Got to go, little girl. The sensual petting zoo is
about to come to an end," before she could even ask what he meant the
music stopped and she glanced towards the dance floor in time to see Buffy and
Angel reluctantly pull apart. By the
time she turned back, he was gone, lost in the crowd of the Bronze and Willow’s
frown deepened.
"What?" Willow said, more to herself than anyone
else, still contemplating Spike’s bizarre comment on her boyfriend.
"What, what?" asked Buffy as she flopped next to Willow,
flushed and frustrated. Angel stood, looking equally frustrated, unfortunately,
being a vampire, flushed didn’t really work for him.
"Nothing…I…I thought I heard someone call me. You
know, um, Bronze, people call out names all the time – might have meant me,
could have, easily, I’m sure. So, I was
just saying what for the person who called me," she offered, brow
wrinkling, knowing full well that she should tell Buffy of the conversation
with Spike, or at least Spike’s presence. But for some reason she couldn’t do
it and she found herself gracing the couple with the remnant of a reassuring
smile. "Must have been some other Willow, though. No one answered."
"Lots of other Willows? Sure. You had more coffee,
didn’t you, Will?" Buffy quirked an eyebrow in question and shook her
head. Thankfully she turned her attention to the still agitated Angel and her
manner became lascivious, causing him to wince. "Are you going to stand
for the rest of the night, ‘cause if you are I’d rather do it on the dance floor."
"No, I’ve really got to get going," he stated, a
small apologetic smile gracing his lips as he raised his hands in surrender.
"Well, I should patrol. I could walk with you if you
like?" Buffy suggested, smiling seductively. “Make sure you get home alright.”
"What about Willow?" he queried and Willow let
out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She certainly didn’t want
to walk home on her own with Spike roaming about, spending one song sitting on
the couch with him was more than enough bonding time for her and she didn’t
think that she get off quite so easily the next time.
"Hey guys," Xander broke the silence that had
been impregnating the little group.
"Xander, I thought you weren’t coming back until
Sunday," cried Willow, joyful of the distraction he caused.
"Well I knew you guys couldn’t spend a Friday night
without me," he joked, throwing himself down between the two girls on the
couch and he grinned.
"Joyous family occasion was cancelled then?"
asked Buffy.
"In a word, yes. So here I am. What say we party
on?" he grinned at the girls while doing a little shimmying on the couch
between them.
"Well, I was thinking of going home,” Willow shrugged,
wondering if she could ask Angel to walk her home if he was leaving as he’d
stated. They’d left together on a
number of occasions and each time he’d walk her home, generally in silence, but
it was still appreciated and tonight it would be a great comfort to have the
dark haired vampire’s company. “I have
a heap of stuff I want to do.”
"And I was just about to go and patrol." Buffy
added.
"Okay, patrolling sounds good. Scary, but better than
a lonely Bronze," Xander didn’t even wait for Angel to say anything.
"Let’s go, Buffy. Hey Dead Boy, you’ll see Willow gets home okay?"
Xander didn’t even wait for an answer before he jumped up
and started pulling Buffy towards the door.
The last glimpse they caught of Buffy was a forlorn wave as she and
Xander disappeared into the crowd.
“You don’t mind, do you?” asked Willow, suddenly hesitant
about putting the vampire out and Angel shook his head.
“Not at all. Shall
we?”
The crowd was dying off, most of the couples that had been
on the dance floor were linking hands and leaving so that they could head off
to lovers lane or the other various parking spots around Sunnydale and they
easily found their way out of the Bronze.
Willow stuck close to his side, suddenly wary of exactly what the night
held. But the longer they walked,
moving away from the central district and into suburbia, the more Willow found
herself considering the strange conversation with Spike.
"Angel?" Willow shot a glance at the vampire by
her side. He was in serious brood mode, eyes downcast and hands thrust deeply
in the pockets of his jacket.
"Mmm?" he replied.
"Do you like dancing?" she looked forward and
into the dimness of the night and so she missed him swinging his head to look
at her.
"Well, I suppose so," his brow furrowed as he
looked at her, surprised by the question.
"I guess you’ve seen a lot of dancing in your time.
Which did you like best?" she kept her eyes forward even though she was
eager for the answer.
"Um, I don’t know. I guess in their own way they all
have their merits. I haven’t really thought about which I prefer. Why the
sudden interest?" he asked, turning his attention back to the night.
"Someone made a comment tonight…about today’s style of
dance and how it didn’t, well, um, didn’t present much of a, well, a
challenge..." Willow could feel herself blushing and just let her stuttering
statement hang in the air.
"I’ve never really thought of it…that way," he
cleared his throat and glanced at Willow again. He couldn’t remember seeing her
speak with anyone but Buffy and himself and he wondered who exactly she’d been
speaking with since it seemed to be a strange subject to discuss. The fleeting
thought was disrupted as the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and he
placed his arm across Willow’s stomach to halt her movements and brought a
finger to his lips to indicate his need for silence. Turning his head, he
listened. He could hear nothing, but
the unmistakable aroma of vampire drifted through the night air. "Come on,
let’s get you home."
"What is it?" she received no answer except a
guiding hand on her arm hurrying her along.
The rest of the walk was spent in silence as Angel lost his
need to brood and Willow favored the need to take it up. Her mind kept
wandering back to the conversation with Spike. She hated to admit it, but he
was right. If you liked a guy and wanted to let him know, it was easy to wait
for a slow song and then ask him to dance. No challenge. Not that she had
actually ever done that, but it was a known trick of the "Do You Like
Me" game. Then again there were the comments Spike had made about the
other types of dancing. Those comments sent Willow into a kaleidoscope of
thoughts concerning the type of dancing she had seen in her life. Xander’s
dances did nothing for her, apart from amusement. Buffy and Angel, well their
style of dance was exactly what Spike thought of as unchallenging. Other
occasions, when she had seen people other than her immediate peers dancing, had
been affairs where everyone had consumed copious amounts of alcohol and their
main objectives had been staying upright and trying, unsuccessfully for the
most part, to dance in time to the music.
"Willow…Willow…Willow" it was a case of third
time lucky for Angel to break through the barrier of thoughts that had
surrounded her.
"What?!" she jumped back, startled and glanced up,
her mouth dropped open in surprise as she found herself standing in front of
her house.
"Are you okay, Willow?” Angel asked, watching as she
fumbled with her keys. “You seem distracted."
"Oh. Oh. I’m fine, just …" she couldn’t think of
anything to justify her current frame of mind and she looked up to see Angel
studying her intently. "Tired! Really tired. Long day and night. So I’ll
go inside now and you can go. Unless you want to come in…or not…"
Willow hated it when she rambled, it was generally a dead
give away, of nerves, of a guilty conscience, of any number of things. Of
course, dropping her keys didn’t help any.
Before she could retrieve them, Angel picked them up, slotted the key
into her front door and opened it up for her.
"No, if you’re tired I’ll let you go," he stated,
narrowing his eyes as he watched her.
She was still fumbling with her keys, trying to get it out of the front
door and he crossed her threshold, easily pulling the keys free of the lock and
handing them to her.
“Thanks,” she murmured, blushing slightly and waiting for
him to leave. “Okay…well…bye.”
"Goodnight, Willow," Angel stated quietly, he
hesitated on the threshold for a moment, thrusting his hands deep into the
pockets of his coat. “Are you sure
you’re all right?”
“Yeah, I just need a hot bath and a good nights sleep,”
Willow smiled up at him shyly.
Silently, he nodded, turned on his heel and left, disappearing into the
night as soon as he stepped out of the light of the porch. She shut the door,
checked the bolts and leant against it.
She hadn’t lied, she’d told the truth ~ she was tired. All right, so she hadn’t told the complete
truth, but she hadn’t lied…not really.
Anyway, she was too tired to think about it anymore and she pushed
herself away from the door, wandering up to the bathroom to draw a deep, hot
bath. With the water running, she
walked back to her room to pick up her PJ’s and turn the radio on. There was nothing like music to soothe the
mind.
Although Willow had to admit as she stripped off her
clothes and tossed them into the clothes basket in the corner of the bathroom,
that it tormented rather than soothed tonight.
Her mind was beleaguered by the conversation with Spike, it had quirked
her interest, maybe annoyed her a little that he was so egotistical to believe
that she didn’t have the faintest idea what he was talking about. Of course she’d danced before, with her
friends and in that special way with Oz, it was enough to make her think that
Spike had just been playing with her.
For whatever reason, she didn’t know and as she slipped into the warm
water, she didn’t really care. The
music played on as she let the heat of the water work away the aches and
stresses of the day. Smiling as a
popular tune came on, she tapped her foot in time to the beat and sang along,
clearing her mind of the thoughts that plagued her.
As is always the way, Willow’s peace was shattered some ten
minutes later, by the piercing shrill of the ‘phone. Tensing in the water, she
waited, listening for the machine to pick up the call. The familiar sound of her mother’s voice
carried down the hallway as the recorded message announced that no one was
available to take the call and a shrill beep resounded down the hall.
"Hey Wills, it’s Buffy. Just calling to see if you’re
okay, Angel said you seemed a bit wigged. I guess you must be sleeping…Look,
we’re out on patrol at the moment, I’ll probably be home in about an hour, so
if you want to talk or anything, give me a call…or definitely call me in the
morning and we’ll do something…yeah…okay…I hate these things, bye."
"Okay, bye Buffy," Willow yelled, giggling to
herself as she scrubbed at her face with her hands. It was then that she realized she was turning into a prune and
she grimaced, reaching down and pulling the plug. Lazily, she toweled off, smothered herself with Freemans
Raspberry body lotion and pulled on her PJ’s, a pair of midnight blue silk
shorts and a white cotton tank top.
Turning off the bathroom light, she sauntered back to her room and
grabbed her laptop, taking it to her bed so she could check her email. Not a lot was going on, a few well wishes
and techno-pagan gossipy notes from friends, queries from acquaintances and
various pieces of junk mail. She hated
those and she was considering exactly how to seek her revenge on their mailbox
clogging ways when a light but persistent tapping from her French doors
distracted her. Frowning, she glanced
at the clock, it was barely one in the morning.
"Willow, help me,” a strangled cry of pain came from
outside, accompanied by another gentle rap.
The voice was intangible and she couldn’t place it and she frowned,
pushing her laptop aside. “I
can’t…Willow…help me…”
Her thoughts immediately went to Buffy, they were out on patrol,
obviously not too far away if Angel had met up with them so quickly. Without hesitating she ran to the doors and
flung them open, stepping out to help her friend only to have cold fingers
encircle her wrist and firmly tug her further from the safety of her room.
"Lord, that was just too easy!" Spike declared,
wrapping his arm about her waist and twirling her about as he laughed.
She was going to die.
Willow knew that, was certain of it as soon as she heard his comment and
the contemptuous laughter. The world
continued to spin and it seemed fitting that her impending death would take
place while she was in a dazed and confused state…that was if he was going to
kill her quickly. Oh dear lord, she was going to be dessert, after all he had
stated at the Bronze that he’d already eaten.
As the world spun faster, Willow closed her eyes, the only thing she was
really aware of was Spike’s cool, confining grip on her wrist.
"Well, fancy seeing you here," the world came to
a halt, leaving Willow standing on the lawn in the middle of her backyard, with
Spike smirking at her.
Suddenly, she was hit by the most absurd thought ever ~ she
was going to die, in her own backyard…without underwear! She was going to die at the hands of some
blood-sucking fiend and her only concern was underwear…she just knew she was
panicking, she had to be considering the absurd reasoning of her thought
process. She probably would have
continued to panic had Spike not interrupted.
"You know, love" he gave a small snort of laughter
as he moved his body close to hers, his eyes fixing on hers and he reached out,
gently pushing her hair back from her face, letting his thumb trace the contour
of her cheek. "We’re really going
to have to stop meeting like this…people will start to talk!"
Snapping out of her panic induced stupor, Willow jerked
back from his touch, only she forgot about his hold on her wrist. The pain was enough to make her hiss and
whimper, and she made the mistake of glancing up at him. There was no trace of humor, the smirk was
gone, replaced by a detached expression and his eyes…his eyes were terrifying,
cold and empty. For all intents and
purposes he appeared to be studying Willow intently, trying to work out the
next move in this little game and he stepped in close to her.
"Why don’t you scream?" he rumbled slowly into
her ear. Willow wasn’t sure if it was a suggestion or a question and she darted
her eyes up to glance at him, but seeing his face devoid of emotion she dropped
her gaze again. "Go on…scream!"
Spike accentuated his words with an almost crushing
pressure on Willow’s wrist. That,
combined with the increasing certainty of her impending death, enticed an
ear-splitting, glass-shattering scream of desperation to leave her. As the
scream died on her lips, Willow became aware of Spike’s low laughter.
"Slayer," he called out in a singsong voice while
leading Willow deeper into the shadows of her backyard. "I’ve got one of
your friends to play with…oh, that’s right, she and the wanker king are on the
other side of town. Your neighbors don’t seem too concerned, so I guess that
leaves you all to me…doesn’t that sound smashing?"
Spike stopped his movements and swung to face Willow, a
huge grin breaking through the previous mask of stoicism.
"What do you want?" Willow hesitantly whispered
and silently berated herself for being so stupid, he was going to kill her and
she was asking what he wanted.
"Mmm, well," Spike’s hold on her wrist loosened
as his free hand slid around to the small of her back and the other moved up to
hold onto her hand. "I want to
waltz."
"Waltz?" Willow stared into his piercing blue
eyes, trying to gain some insight. Did he propose to waltz and then kill her?
"Waltz," he stated, gaining amusement from the
sheer fear he could see in her eyes, not to mention the feel of it coursing
through her body, making her tremble. There was something else though, working
its way into her expression, slowly starting to override the fear and her brow
furrowed with anger. “You know, 1-2-3,
1-2-3…”
"I’m not going to waltz with you…you’re a blood
sucking fiend," Willow protested as her earlier indignation of his
arrogant attitude surfaced, especially with the sarcastic tone he took and she
tried to step back, only to be stopped by the pressure of his hand on her back.
Wonderful, she thought to herself, call him names, get him angry. However, Spike didn’t look angry, if
anything he looked amused.
"’Blood sucking fiend’ what sort of label is that? I
prefer…" he seemed lost in thought for a moment, trying to come up with
something more appropriate. "Homicidal maniac. Much more manly."
With that Spike grinned down at her and stepped back,
pulling her forward. The movement
caused Willow to almost stumble and she grabbed at his shoulder, steadying
herself in his arms.
“And now we have assumed the position," Spike lowered
his head and voice slightly. "Would you care to waltz?"
"I can’t," Willow stated, somewhat tentatively
and Spike arched an eyebrow in question. "I don’t have shoes on, we have
no music and, and, well…I don’t know how to."
The last part of her argument was little more than a
whisper.
"You don’t need shoes, I won’t step on you. As to
music, it’s irrelevant. All you have to do is follow me. You’ll be waltzing in
no time at all…trust me," he smirked as he pulled her forward again while
stepping back.
"Trust you?! You’re a blood suck…er…you’re a
self-confessed homicidal maniac. No offense meant, but they’re not the most
sincerest of …" Willow lost herself for a moment, she was going to say ‘people’
but Spike wasn’t and she couldn’t really think of a suitable phrase. But she didn’t have to as Spike cut her off.
"There you go again, sticking labels all over the
place. If he’s a homicidal maniac he must be untrustworthy," again he
stepped out, urging Willow to follow his lead. "I mean, just because an
individual enjoys a good blood letting now and then doesn’t mean he can’t be
trusted…although, you are right, I can’t be trusted. Just a flaw in my
personality I guess. You know it hurts, really it does."
Sarcasm was dripping from his voice as he stuck his bottom
lip out in a pout. All the time Willow had been listening to him, she hadn’t
even realized that he was manipulating their bodies around her back yard in the
perfect waltz. The cool breeze caused by the momentum of the simple dance
caught her attention and she broke his gaze to look down at the ground.
"Oh, my," Willow gasped as she tried to follow
him. With conscious thought of actually
dancing, she stumbled.
"Close your eyes, pet, and just feel,” Spike murmured
as he continued to twirl Willow around. “Don’t even think about what you’re
doing."
Willow wasn’t quite sure what to make of his demand. Certainly if she closed her eyes then at
least she wouldn’t be able to see when he went in for the kill, but….her
thoughts were interrupted by Spike repeating his request and she glanced up at
him. Frowning, she considered her position, agreeing with her previous thought
that she really didn’t want to see him go in for the kill, and with a resigned
sigh closed her eyes.
Willow felt like she was floating. It was the only way she
could describe the sensations she was feeling. Spike, by means of the light
pressure on the small of her back and his guiding hand wrapped in hers, was
spiraling her into a world of sensational pleasure. She reasoned they must have
been moving with some force, her hair was swinging and she could feel the air
as they twirled around and around. The strength contained in Spike’s body was
evident as they danced, as he maneuvered their bodies, twisting and twirling
about the yard. It was a force that was under her hands, in the coolness of his
skin, the feel of his wiry muscles as they moved and she sighed. It was almost like she was Scarlett O’Hara,
dancing with Rhett Butler and she smiled at the thought, but it slipped from
her features as soon as it surfaced.
There was a difference, she wasn’t Scarlett and her potential Rhett was
going to drain her blood at any moment.
Willow felt lost. She was only just aware of the grass
beneath her bare feet, the coolness of the night air, the potential danger of
her situation. And at this point in time, she didn’t care. Her only concern was
the power she felt as she was held in Spike’s cool, strong arms as he
maneuvered her around the yard. A yard, which in her mind’s eye, was nothing
less than an old-world ballroom somewhere in Vienna. She could almost hear the
string quartet playing an accompaniment to their dance. She didn’t want to
stop, to stop would be nothing less than death. The hand in the small of her back pulled her closer to him and
she could feel him slow their movements until they gently rocking together,
their bodies touching as she was held flush against him. His cheek brushed against hers and as their
movements came to a complete halt, she felt his moist, cool lips press against
her throat.
"You smell like raspberries, love." Spike’s voice
vibrated through his lips on her neck.
Willow’s knees went weak and she could have sworn she was
falling. With a thump, she landed on
her ass in the middle of the yard and her eyes shot open to scan the
surrounding night. There was no sign of Spike, no evidence that he had even
been there, and nothing to suggest that he’d been waltzing Willow around her
backyard. Slowly she pushed herself off the ground and brushed down her
clothes, wincing at the tender pain in her buttocks. Running her fingers along her neck, she could feel no bite marks,
no massive flow of blood, nothing. It
didn’t settle her nerves any and turning on her heel, she made a mad dash back
to her room, securely locking the door behind her. Relief and confusion swept
through her body, which suddenly felt heavy and weary, and she craved the
sanctuary of her bed, crawling in and pulling the covers up over her head. She had to be sleep deprived, it was the
only explanation she had for it, she couldn’t have just been waltzing in her
backyard with Spike. Maybe it had just
been some whacked out dream, could have been, quite easily, fuelled by the
conversation at the Bronze. She closed
her eyes, determined that tomorrow she would tell Buffy about Spike being at
the club.
Willow was chatting merrily with John Cusack, sipping some
exotic ice coffee topped with finely grated chocolate and orange peel and it
was ringing. Or maybe John Cusack was
ringing. Something was ringing. The dreamscape disappeared and Willow
blinked a few times, the crumpled bed linen slowly coming into focus. Dragging her hand out from under the covers,
she reached over and grabbed the phone that had disturbed her tête-à-tête with
the delicious John Cusack.
"Hello?" the bedding she was hidden under muffled
her voice.
"Wills! You want to go shopping? I really need some
new clothes," a distant voice echoed through Willow’s mind.
"Buffy?" she mumbled in question. What was Buffy
doing calling so early on a Saturday. "Why are you calling me so
early?"
"Early?" Buffy laughed on the other end of the
line. "It’s three o’clock in the afternoon, Willow. Don’t tell me you’re still in bed? You must
have been tired!"
"Ha, ha." Willow braved the terrors of throwing
back her bed covers and glanced at the bedside clock. Sure enough the clock read 3.03 pm, to be exact. "Oh God,
it’s three o’clock!"
"Now you’re stating the obvious. So do we shop?"
Buffy asked, silently waiting for an answer.
"Yes…yes. We shop," she couldn’t believe that
she’d slept so long. "I have to
shower and change, though, but I shouldn’t be long."
"Okay, well I’ll head on over to your place. Do you
think Xander would want to come? He has access to a car – could be handy."
"Sure, ask him. Who knows," Willow knew that if
Buffy asked him, he’d be there in a flash. "I’ll see you in a while
then."
"Done deed!" Buffy replied and rang off.
Willow pulled herself up in bed and suddenly hissed as a
sharp pain stabbed through her wrist. Frowning, she cradled her brightly
bruised wrist and she suddenly felt sick.
It hadn’t been a dream, Spike had been there, he’d waltzed her about the
backyard. Absently she began to stroke
the marks as the memory of his firm cool grasp flooded her mind and the waltz,
that surreal waltz in silk and bare feet.
Then guilt crashed down about her, she would have to tell Buffy, should
have told Buffy and Angel last night at the Bronze when he’d first shown
up. Reluctantly, she pulled herself
from the bed and prepared herself for the onslaught of the great shopping
experience.
Three hours later and Willow still hadn’t told Buffy about
Spike. There were any number of
reasons, but the main one had been the great shopping experience.
"Willow, this would be just perfect for you!"
Buffy exclaimed as she held up a pascal pink fluffy sweater. Willow looked at
it, cocking her head. She’d already bought
five items, all after Buffy had picked them and said the same catch cry.
"I think I’ve already spent enough today, Buffy. I’ll
pass." Willow smiled at her friend. The one item she had picked off the
rack to admire and consider for her, a midnight blue slip dress, was instantly
snapped up by Buffy, exclaiming that it simply wasn’t Willow’s style. Willow
had reluctantly agreed and watched quietly as Buffy stated that it did,
however, suit herself to a tee.
"Well, what do you think about this – for me?"
asked Buffy, picking up a lavender top.
"Yeah, it’s real nice Buffy." Willow looked at
the top, she refrained from commenting that the color didn’t suit and glanced
down at her watch. It was six o’clock already. "Buffy, weren’t you meant
to meet Giles at six?"
"Yep, training. What a way to spend Saturday
night," Buffy rolled her eyes. “I
thought we all might go out later on.”
"Better than being bag boy," muttered Xander
under his breath. Watching Buffy trying on clothes, although in theory sounded
good, in practice it meant hours of standing around holding things, fetching
things and running for drinks, chocolate and anything else that caught the
girls fancy.
"Well, you are going to be fifteen minutes late,"
Willow stated.
"What?" Buffy demanded, turning around to stare
at Willow.
"It’s six now."
Buffy’s eyes widened and she grabbed Willow’s wrist to
check the time. Unfortunately it was her bruised wrist and she gasped in pain.
“Willow, what happened to your wrist?” Buffy asked, her
fingers running over the dark bruise that marred her otherwise pale flesh.
“It’s so silly, I slipped getting out of the bath last
night,” Willow blatantly lied, for some reason she couldn’t bring herself to
tell Buffy about Spike. But the look on the Slayer’s face made it obvious that
the blonde wasn’t buying it. “Honestly,
I was so tired last night I was hallucinating, I couldn’t even get my keys in
the lock of the front door…”
“See, this is why you shouldn’t drink so many mocha’s,
Will, you just get all…” Xander paused and pulled a face, his bag ladled arms
reaching for the sky. “Crazy. You’ve
got to cut down on the caffeine.”
"Are you sure?” asked Buffy and Willow nodded, pulling
her wrist away from the blonde and cradling it close to her chest. Buffy shook her head and sighed. “Come on, guys. I have to go. You know how
cranky Giles gets when I’m late."
In reality Giles had long ago realized Buffy was always
going to be late and had adjusted his thoughts accordingly. He always told her
to meet him half an hour earlier than the intended time. It was saving him
gaining an ulcer.
"Giles, I’m so sorry. We were held up at the
mall," Buffy gushed as she pushed open the double doors and strode into
the library.
"Yes, I’m sure that the entire vampire population of
Sunnydale decided that the sales were an opportunity too good to pass up,"
Giles glanced up from the book he was reading. "But you’re here now and we
have work to do."
Before Buffy could even open her mouth to suggest that they
should forget formal training and let her do a cardiovascular workout on the
dance floor of the Bronze, the library doors flew open and Angel walked in.
"We’ve got a problem." Angel said, immediately
drawing everyone’s attention. "Spike’s back."
Willow closed her eyes briefly, silently thankful that they
knew, it meant that she didn’t have to say anything. The relief was short lived, Angel was upset, agitated, and she
wondered if she should say something.
But really it was too late to say that she’d seen him the previous
evening, especially considering all the questions it would raise and since
nothing really happened that she considered to be important. Spike pestering her, dancing with her, had
merely been a game, like a cat playing with a mouse, she was just lucky that he
hadn’t gone in for the kill and there was no need to worry her friends
unnecessarily with the details. She
glanced about the room, there was a general look of shock on everyone’s faces.
"Are you sure?" Willow asked, a frown wrinkling
her forehead and Angel glanced at her before turning back to Giles and Buffy.
"Damn sure. I interrupted his evening meal and let’s
just say he was none to please," Angel grimaced, rubbing his jaw where
Spike had landed a heavy punch during their little altercation.
"Well, this is something. Why would Spike come back to
Sunnydale?" Giles asked.
"Last time he wanted a love spell for Drusilla,"
Angel paused and looked at Willow. "Could be that his plan didn’t work and
he’s returning to the previous idea of a spell."
"Oh, yes. I see." Giles removed his glasses and
sucked thoughtfully on the arm. "If that’s the case, he might be focusing
on Willow…but then again, surely he would have found it easier to go to a more
experienced Wicca or source. No offense, Willow. I just mean someone closer to
where he was. Less time consuming than coming all the way back here. Makes far
more sense if it were a love spell he was after."
Silently, she was begging, pleading that they wouldn’t ask
for her opinion or if she knew anything and Willow could feel the room start to
become tiny, feel the walls collapsing in on her.
"Hey don’t worry, we won’t let him get near you,"
Buffy misinterpreted her friends’ expression for fear and not a reflection of
the inner turmoil that was actually going on.
"Well, we can’t really form any plan of action until
we know why he’s here. There’s nothing going on that you know of Angel? No
particular vampire activity?" Giles queried.
"Giles, if you haven’t noticed – this is the Hellmouth.
You know, freaky vampire episodes – regular occurrence," Xander stated the
obvious, earning a deadly glare from the Watcher.
"I was referring to mass gatherings, perhaps some
important event that would require Spike’s presence," continued Giles, not
taking his withering scowl from Xander.
"Nothing," Angel replied. "In fact it’s been
pretty quiet, relatively speaking."
"There is one way we could find out why he’s
here," Buffy announced and everyone turned to look at her. "Ask
him."
"Oh, great idea. I’m sure he would be happy to tell us
exactly what big evil thing he has planned," stated Xander sarcastically,
rolling his eyes and throwing his hands up in the air.
"Yes, well. Xander seems once again seems to have
mastered the understatement. I don’t think Spike would be that forthcoming with
information," Giles rubbed his temple, trying to put off the inevitable
headache he could feel building up.
"I don’t know, a bit of friendly Slayer coercion might
loosen his tongue," Buffy grinned.
"I think Buffy’s right. But…" Angel cut off
Buffy’s I-know-all attitude induced stance and smile. "It would be better
if I went."
Giles glanced at the people gathered around him. Perhaps
Angel would be able to get something out of the blond vampire using his tact. The Watcher thought it unlikely that Buffy
would have any success in that area, her total distaste for Spike was apparent
and it would be of no use to them if she staked him on the spot without getting
any information. Whatever Spike’s reason for returning to Sunnydale, Giles
wasn’t happy. Spike had a well-earned reputation for being meticulous in his
planning and having a devious mind – it had only been fluke chances that he had
previously been foiled in his earlier activities.
"I agree, Angel. Buffy, you can stay with us and help
research. We will have to check for any upcoming events, prophecies, see if we
can come up with any likely explanation," Giles put his glasses back on
and headed off to his faithful books. Willow sighed, moving toward the computer
and Xander flopped onto a chair at the table.
"But," Buffy began to argue. "What about
safety in numbers? What if Spike tries to hurt you? Surely I should go with
you."
Angel just shook his head.
"It’s better I go alone. I’ll be back soon, I promise,"
he whispered, stooping to kiss her before heading out the doors.
Four hours later, after spending hours wandering about
Sunnydale and checking all of Spike’s known haunts, Angel was getting
exasperated. Apart from his initial sighting of Spike, he hadn’t seen or heard
anything of him, not a good sign. He had even tried getting Willie to squeal,
but apparently no one, human, vampire or demon, even knew of Spike’s return.
Which was most unlike Spike – he enjoyed making his presence felt and that
alone alarmed Angel.
"Looking for someone special, peaches?" Angel
heard the familiar voice call and he swung around to face Spike who was
casually smoking a cigarette, his free hand deeply buried in the pocket of his
leather duster. "You know, I really hated having you interrupt my meal
tonight – made me twice as hungry."
Spike flashed a grin as Angel winced at the thought.
"What are you doing here, Spike?" Angel growled.
"Well, I liked the thought of visiting family,"
he replied, stepping on his cigarette butt.
"Family? I thought Drusilla was the only ‘family’ you
were interested in. Speaking of which, where is our little insane
princess?" Angel hit a sore spot and before he could even react Spike had
him pinned against a tree, his forearm nearly crushing the elder vampire’s
throat.
"I know exactly where Drusilla is. But what about you?
Do you know where everything that you hold precious is?" Spike practically
hissed. As quickly as he had pinned Angel down he let him go. Stepping back and
giving a small chortle of laughter.
"Is that meant to be some sort of threat, Spike?"
Angel glared at Spike through narrowed eyes, trying to find some sort of
meaning to the questions.
"You know me, mate. Never a great one for threats,
more for action," he began to step back into the darkness of the night.
"Better hold on tight, it’s going to get rough…"
Angel heard Spike give two barks, like that of a dog, and
then a loud peal of laughter as he disappeared out of view.
"Shit," Angel muttered between his clenched teeth
and headed back to the library.
ZZZZZ
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