Author: eena_angel2001
Rating: R
Pairing: W/Asher
Category: BTVS/AB
Disclaimer: Don't own them. Whedon owns BTVS, Hamiliton owns AB.
Spoilers: Through Tabula Rasa Season Six of BTVS. NIC for AB.
Summary: Willow gets caught up in someone's need for revenge . . .
Notes: For this fic, Willow stopped magic after Tara left her. And the AB verse exists alongside the BTVS verse. The different vamps from each series will be portrayed as different species.
Prologue:
She sat, rather bored, at the table in front of the bar. She didn't know she bothered to come tonight. Honestly, a theme night at the Bronze? Who's lame-ass idea was that? And why would Anya feel the need to attend, dragging Xander, and therefore Willow, with her.
The redhead sighed, eyes going to the dance floor. She couldn't help but giggle at the sight of her best friend flailing around on the dance floor with his fiancee. Well, it wasn't as bad as before. Xander was kind of getting the hang of it now, but still, he was far off from being okay at it.
Willow wrinkled up her nose, distasteful of the idea that just struck her. What if Anya wanted something like this at the wedding? What if she forced everyone to? That would be disastrous, especially with the mix of people coming. Demons and humans, all coming together to see Xander and Anya joined in holy matrimony.
That is, they will see them joined in holy matrimony if a fight doesn't break out. And considering Buffy was one of the bridesmaids . . . Well, how many demons you know that want to be in a confined space with the Slayer?
Speaking of the Slayer, Buffy had abandoned her on this night. The blonde had begged off, claiming the need to patrol early tonight. Apparently some of the vamps had been more agitated as of late for some reason, and she wanted to make sure nothing chaotic went down as a result of it. Of course, if you wanted to follow that kind of reasoning, Buffy should have been here. After all, the Bronze was where all the baddies went to get their chaos on.
Unless they were headed for the school that is. But the school wasn't even standing anymore, so that was out of the question. And where else would vampires find a mass congregation of people in Sunnydale but the Bronze?
Willow gave another sigh, looking down into her drink as she swirled it mindlessly. She kind of wished she drank some more, cause getting drunk would be a nice distraction for her problems as of late. But sadly, she could not do so. Getting drunk in Sunnydale always ended up being more trouble than it was worth.
Green eyes went to the dance floor again, noting that Anya and Xander had a lot more rhythm than before. Good for them.
"You want to try it?"
The voice in her ear startled her, causing her to spill her drink on the table. A chuckle in her ear brought her to her senses rather quickly. The redhead rolled her eyes, giving a bit of growl before turning around to glare at the person behind her. She only got another laugh in response.
"Is there any reason why you're creeping up on me?" she asked snidely, turning back to the table to wipe up the spill of her drink.
"Do I need one?" was the equally snide reply. She heard the scraping of chair legs as he pulled out the one across from her and sat down.
"What's up Spike?" she finally asked, raising what she hoped was irritated eyes to him. The vampire in question only laughed again, folding his arms on the table, leaning his chin on them as he looked at her.
"Nothin'," he denied. "I was bored and thought to myself 'what is the best source of entertainment in this town?' And the answer came to me right away-Red!"
She tried to keep an annoyed expression after that, but it just wasn't working. The smile began tugging at the corner of her lips and Spike only grinned wider at the signs of it.
"Oh just smile Red," he admonished her. "You know it's going to happen eventually, so just give in."
There it was, the smile. She gave it begrudgingly, letting him know with her eyes that it was against her will.
"You know, it's not a crime to feel better," he continued to say. "So the witch left you and you had to give up on the mojo, not the end of the world. I mean, you've seen enough of that to know the difference."
"Spike, is there a reason for this?"
"I told you, I'm bored!" he rolled his eyes, catching the sight of Anya and Xander on the dance floor. "You want to try it?"
It always amazed her how he could change subjects so quickly, but still be talking about the same thing.
"You want to swing dance?"
"I wouldn't ask unless I did," he rolled his eyes again. "Come on, you know you want to."
"I do?" she arched an eyebrow. He nodded.
"Of course you do," he tossed her another grin, extending his hand to her as he stood up. She frowned at it, at him, for a second before giving a mental shrug and clasping his hand with her own. He gave her a wolfish grin before pulling her onto the dance floor.
*****
Cool blue eyes watched as he left his crypt, shrugging on his jacket with ease. So it was true, he was here. Had been here for a while. Strange since he was such a wanderer by nature. He never stayed in one spot for too long. He either got bored, or someone would chase him out. He did have a tendency to make people angry with him.
Funny, his time here had made him careless. His mind was racing, not even properly shielded as he wandered the streets. He did not know that someone was following him, reading his freeflowing thoughts. This was stupid of him, even more so than usual. He was being so lax.
He followed behind his prey, hearing his thoughts as he came to a conclusion. The image of red hair and green eyes came to him, along with something very strange. A title, of friend.
This vampire never had any friends. He had minions, he had sires, he had masters, but he never had had any friends. What a curious notion.
And so he continued to stalk him, marveling at the vampire's ignorance. He was getting far too relaxed in this town. Into the club he had followed, watching him converse with the redhead from his mind's eye. He watched as he dragged her off to the dance floor, spinning her around, laughing and smiling to his heart's content.
How sweet.
He honestly wondered how this could be the group of people he had heard so much about. They were practically clueless to his very existence. He followed them to their Magic Shop, watching them converse with the Slayer. Only she showed some inclination of his presence, twitching slightly as she looked out to the night. But apparently she had more on her mind than him at the this moment.
He watched as HE left with her, on some sort of demon hunt. A purple one, he thought he heard her say. The redhead stayed with her friends at the shop, for awhile, heading home at the end.
And that was all he had been waiting for.
*****
Spike trailed behind Buffy, a scowl on his face. He loved her, but didn't. And she just loved to jerk him around, telling him he was nothing, but the next day coming running to him with some sort of demon, internal and external.
They were rounding the corner when they heard the faint sounds of screams and shouts. They were about three blocks from the Magic Shop. Wordlessly, the vampire and the Slayer exchanged a look before breaking out into a panicked run. Less than a block away, he felt it happen, falling to his knees when he recognized the feeling.
Buffy skidded to a stop, looking at him incredulously. He just jumped up, running past her and towards the shop as fast as he could. He heard her right behind him, but for once, he didn't think on that, think on her.
They rounded the final corner, stopping dead in their tracks at the sight. Xander and Anya lay in a heap on the street. He saw the blonde hair, picked out the blue eyes, and the redhead trapped in its arms. His eyes went wide, fear welling up in him along with understanding.
"Don't-"
But he turned, taking off in a instant. They couldn't follow, no way would they be able to follow. They were both out of sight within seconds, before vampire and Slayer could even make it to the conscious peoples on the street.
"Willow!"
The cry came from the Slayer, wrought with panic. She turned to him, blue eyes clouded with horror.
"Spike! What do we do?"
He didn't have an answer, so shocked was he by it all. He tried to form words, but none came to him. And finally, he was able to spit out some instructions, some answer.
"Call Angel. Now."
Part One-The Way It Went Down
Willow didn't know how it happened, or even why. Buffy had paged her, ranting about some sort of purple demon she had come across during patrol. Quickly, her and her friends made their way to the Magic Shop.
Buffy had been bleeding when they arrived. Xander, Anya, and Spike were sent to the books while the redhead patched up her friend. Buffy seemed too on edge, casting frequent glances out of the window while Willow worked. But they all attributed it to the demon she had come across.
After Anya found said demon, Buffy and Spike were sent on a quick slaying mission. All they needed to do was stab the demon in the lower back, because for some reason that's where its heart was. The other three had remained at the shop for an hour or so, cleaning up and putting all books away. They had been ready to go home, sending Xander to go start the car, when everything went downhill.
They heard the oddest thump and muffled grunt just as they walked out the store door. Turning, Willow saw Xander, out cold on the street before she saw Anya.
Her blood ran cold, eyes going from Anya to the man holding her tight by the throat. There was a silence as they stared at one another, giving her time to take him in. Blue eyes, golden hair swept over one side of his face, and features of a Greek god. Pale skin and victorious smirk on his face.
"Bonjour."
And French. He was French and so totally a vampire that Willow wanted to scream in terror. This wasn't a run of the mill vampire, not the vagabonds as Spike's kind was called. No, this was one of the originals, the real vampires, the ones with powers and strength the others just didn't.
Anya gave a squeak as his hold on her throat increased just slightly. That jarred Willow out of her shock.
"What do you want?" she ventured shakily, eying her imperiled friends with fear.
"Well, that is an interesting question."
His voice was lovely, silky as it cascaded over her skin. Willow shivered, looking at Anya frantically. The former demon just looked back at the witch with wide eyes.
"Now, I do not wish for you to think this is at all your fault," the vampire continued, extending a hand to caress Anya's cheek gently. "This really has nothing to do with you or your friends, but you see, there is something that I need of you. I am terribly sorry that you are being dragged into this, but you see, revenge waits for no one."
"Revenge?" Willow repeated. "Against who? Why?"
"Do not worry, he will know," the vampire continued, turning to look at Willow again. "But you my dear, you have a decision to make. Do as I say, or your dear friends die."
Blood was roaring in her ear, eyes flicking between Anya in his arms, and Xander out cold on the ground. Anya was squeaking, shaking her head the little bit she could. The blonde's eyes caught Willow's, desperately trying to convey a message to her. But Willow was in no position to say no to this vampire.
"What do you want from me?" Willow was confused, wringing her hands. "Why-"
"Human servant."
The words were foreign to her, but not to Anya. The former demon was struggling anew now, telling Willow to deny his request. The redhead cringed when the vampire tightened his hold on Anya, stilling her movements.
"What's a human servant?" Willow asked, stalling for time. Buffy and Spike wouldn't take that long to kill the demon. They would be heading back pretty soon, if she could just . . .
"Please ma petite," the vampire interjected, face unimpressed. "They would not make it here in time to save this one. I could snap her neck and be on my way in mere seconds. Now, no more stalling, no more questions. Answer: do you accept, or shall I just . . ."
He wrung Anya's neck just a little more. The blonde was almost blue in the face. Tears were pricking the redhead's eyes.
"Let her go!" she shrieked. "I'll do whatever you say, just let her go!"
A smirk came to his face. Before she knew it, Anya was on the floor, out cold with Xander. And the redhead was in his arms, staring into blue eyes that looked like they were glowing. Willow stared in confusion as his eyes got brighter and a strange sensation overtook her senses. There was a heat around her now, not burning, but distracting. She felt something inside of her growing, getting larger and larger as she stared into those blue eyes.
The scream left her lips before she knew it, and she snapped her eyes shut. The heat dissipated and Willow fell into darkness.
*****
When she awoke next, she was surrounded by coolness. Soft material, silk most likely, was all around her, caressing her skin in an almost soothing fashion. But the redhead wasn't completely soothed. Her mind was becoming awake, and finally she remembered the vampire.
Her eyes shot open and she flew into an upright position. Chest heaving, the redhead desperately tried to remember what happened to her. Something about a human servant and Anya and Xander . . .
She remembered passing out after some sort of altercation with the vampire. His eyes had glowed, burning an impression on her mind. She could still see them now, causing her to shiver.
The redhead shook her head, taking the time to look at her surroundings. It was a dark room, though a very nice one. There was a dresser, a closet, one of those great full length mirrors in the corner, and the bed she was currently on. It was a huge bed, lovely carved wooden posts and soft red silk sheets. The blanket on top of her was nice and warm, and tucked in around her. Looks like someone put her in there carefully.
And changed her clothes, because she saw them lying on a chair by the dresser. Panicked the redhead looked down, seeing that she was clad in a silk red shirt. What was with all the silk?
Her heart was pounding in her chest, her breaths coming out in shallow gasps. Slowly, the redhead slid off the bed, noting that the shirt only came to mid thigh and now she was extremely cold. Her legs felt oddly weak, causing her to stumble as she made her way to the only door in the room.
She reached it, turning the knob and becoming frustrated to find it was locked. The redhead tugged on it, all the while knowing there was no point. A sob escaped her before she could stop and she scolded herself. She was a smart independent woman who had been in tighter spots than this before. She could get herself out if she just maintained her calm.
She turned back around, moving quickly to the dresser. She rummaged through it, looking for a pin or something, anything to help her. But all she found were clothes, leather and silk every last one of them.
She had about to give up when the door quietly creaked open behind her. Willow spun, remembering she had no weapon, and tried to hide behind the dresser. She heard the words though, and knew she had been spotted anyway.
"You're awake. Good, we have much to discuss."
*****
Part Two -The Explanation As To Why
"What do you mean its your fault?"
Spike was wondering what on earth had caused him to fess up. Because
after he did, one very irate blonde Slayer had him by the collar and
a good three feet off the ground. He had never seen Buffy so angry
at him, not even when he had kidnapped Willow or when she found out
about his 'crush'. No, the Slayer had never looked like she was
going to rip him apart, piece by piece, and enjoy it immensely.
"Buffy, maybe you should put him down," this from the whelp. "I
would like to kill him too, but I don't think we're going to get much
out of him if he's dead. Well, dead-ER. We need to find out what
happened to Willow."
Spike made a few gurgling noises in agreement. Buffy narrowed her
eyes before dropping Spike rather abruptly. The vampire fell to the
ground, rubbing his throat and being awful glad he didn't need
breathe considering how long Buffy had him suspended with his
windpipe cut off.
"Like I was saying," Spike managed to croak. "This has nothing to do
with you guys. It's about me and the Poof."
"What did you and Angel do?"
Dawn, in the corner, curled up at Anya's side. The girl had rushed
home after Buffy had informed her of what had happened. He could see
by the look in her eyes that Nibblet was a little angry with him for
all this. Hell, he was furious with himself, so he didn't hold that
against her.
"He put the first mark on her," Anya brought up, voice shaking. "Do
you even know how bad that is?"
"I do, I'm not a bloody moron," Spike rolled his eyes.
"What's the first mark?" Xander chose to ask at that instant. Buffy
looked curious too, but keeping her eyes deadly as she looked at
Spike.
"What's the first mark?" the Slayer demanded of him. "And why the
hell did Mr. Vengeful Vamp give it to Willow?"
Spike honestly wondered if he should answer the question. He looked
to Anya for help, but the former demon shook her head.
"This is your fault," she muttered darkly. "You explain it."
"The Poof was involved too!" Spike snapped. "And you're all acting
like I planned this! This bullshit went down over a hundred years
ago and if I had known he would come for Red, then- I wouldn't have
let him."
The last part was said in a whisper. The vampire stared down at the
floor, not even bothering to look up at the others.
"She's my friend too," he muttered. "She's my only friend. Never
had one, not even when I was mortal. But Willow- that's why he took
her. Because she's my friend. And he laid the mark on her to piss
not only me, but Angelus off as well."
"Why?" Buffy demanded, tone less angry than before. "What happened?"
"It was over a hundred years ago," Spike muttered dejectedly. "We
had an altercation with this vamp and a friend of his. They
basically tried to drive us out of Paris because they thought Angelus
was far too destructive to allow in their city. So we got angry
and . . . "
"Come again?" Xander prompted. Spike sighed, fumbling for his
lighter and cigarettes.
"We killed the lot of their friends," the vampire repeated, louder
for all to hear. "We snuck up on them during the day, ripped their
bodies to pieces and hung them on display for the Masters to find. I
think it made them angry."
There was a silence after his confession, everyone thinking over what
he said.
"He's not going to kill Willow, is he?" Dawn finally ventured in a
tiny voice. Spike shook his head, sticking a cane in his mouth and
lighting up. Buffy was quick to grab it from his mouth, sending him
the 'don't-you-dare-smoke-in-my-house' look she always gave him.
"If he gave her the first mark, he's not planning on killing her,"
Anya answered for him. "He's just planning on ruining her life."
That made Buffy go stiff with rage. Stormy blue eyes were turned his
way and Spike gulped audibly.
"What is the first mark?" Buffy demanded again. "Tell me, now!"
Spike sighed, struggling to his feet and plopping down on the couch.
He motioned for Buffy and Xander to do the same, trying to summon up
the courage to tell them exactly what was going on.
"You see, there's this thing called a human servant . . ."
*****
Willow wanted to run so badly. She wanted to plow headfirst for the
door, regardless of the fact she knew he could stop her before she
even made it halfway across the room. She wanted to try.
But the rational part of her brain told her to conserve her enery.
To wait on him, to see if he would give her an opening. Of all the
times not to be a practicing witch anymore!
"Did you sleep well?"
She wanted to laugh at the way he was exchanging pleasantries. If
she didn't know any better, she swear she was his guest instead of
his captive. But she did know better, a lot better.
"You kidnapped me," she managed to choke out. "You did something to
me. I don't know what, but I can feel it."
"It was the first mark," he replied. She turned to look his way,
surprised to find him sulking in the darkest corner of the room. His
hair was still pushed over one side of his, like it had been when she
saw him outside the Magic Shop. She wondered what he was hiding, and
whether or not she really wanted to know.
"What's the first mark?" she asked in return. He laughed, a sound
that caused shivers to run down her back. The redhead gulped,
desperately looking for an escape or a weapon. Either would do, this
guy was far too powerful for her liking.
"There is no way out of here ma cherie," he told her, as if reading
her thoughts. "There is only this door here. You could try to reach
it, but you know I would stop you before you even neared it."
A sob escaped her, a sound she tried to stifle in her throat. Tears
were burning in her eyes as she tried to hide herself behind the
dresser.
"Why are you doing this to me?" she whispered tearfully. She heard a
sigh and then seconds later, he was standing before her. A shocked
gasp erupted from her lips and the redhead tried to get far away, but
he pinned her in. Willow pushed back against the wall, not wanting
to look at him.
"You are friends with a creature known as William the Bloody, no?"
Willow frowned and nodded. What did Spike have to do with this?
"And you are near and dear to one Angelus, the Scourge of Europe?"
Well, Angel wasn't the Scourge of Europe and there was a fine line
between Angel and Angelus, but she figured he wouldn't care that
much. So she nodded again, unsure of where he was going with this.
"It is because of their attachment to you that you find yourself in
this position," he informed her. "I have needs to settle things with
them, and I think you will do nicely."
"I won't let you turn me," she told him, mustering up a bit of
courage. He laughed again, a cold finger going to trace the outline
of her cheek.
"I will not turn you," he assured her. "No, that I would not do.
But making you my human servent, that will happen."
"Human servant?" she repeated, mind racing to remember anything about
that. She came up blank.
"The first mark, which I have given you, is the first step," he
explained, leaning in entirely too close to her. He was handsome to
say the least, but also very scary. A big gorgeous scary vamp who
from what she could tell, wanted her to be his maid or something.
"I will give you three more," he informed her, fingering a lock of
red hair this time. "And with the final mark, you will be bond to me
for the rest of your life. I will draw power from you and you
likewise from me. You will live much longer than a normal human, and
enjoy certain powers that mortals have. You will be in essence, an
extension of myself. Completely submissive to me, my human servant."
She didn't like the sound of this, not at all. A few tears spilled
from her watery eyes, trailing down her cheeks as her breath came in
ragged gasps. He clucked his tongue in sympathy, wiping a tear from
her cheek. She wanted to back away from him, not to allow his touch
at all.
She nearly screamed in shock when she felt his lips against her
skin. Now he was kissing up her tears, one hand on her throat to
hold her still. His thumb was tracing over her pulse point slowly,
his other fingers lightly massaging her neck. Willow held herself
perfectly still, trying to stop her tears so that he would stop his
administrations.
"Do not fret," he whispered to her. "You will not be treated
poorly. I have no desire to terrorize your every waking step. But
you will not be released from this bond ma cherie. Vengeance is
stopped for no one."
More tears escaped her, despite her attempts to stop them. He
continued to try and kiss them away, acting as if he liked the taste
of her salty tears. His other hand drifted lower, skimming over the
exposed part of her leg. Panic ceased her as he began to lift the
hem of the shirt up. She couldn't handle this!
"I am not a raper of women," he growled in her ear. "If and when you
come to my bed, it will be willingly. But for now, we have other
business to attend to."
And then he was lifting her, carrying her back to the bed. The
redhead gasped when she was laid down, a motion that took mere
seconds. He was towering over her, looking deep into her green
eyes. She wanted to look away but found she could not.
His eyes were a blaze with something, and she recognized the
sensations taking over her. He was giving her another mark.
If only she could fight the draw of his eyes, fight the fire she felt
rising up around her, to fight him in some capacity. But she was
lost to the whirl of sensations around her.
She was sobbing quite openly now, hating the fact she could hear him
murmuring in her ear. He was saying nice things, comforting things,
but she hated him for it. The fire was all around her, causing her
to cry out in imagined pain. Instinctively, she clung to him,
burying her face in his long blonde hair. His arms were around her,
body pulled flush on top of hers. She felt something stirring in her
stomach, a desire she wanted to quench. But her body paid her mind
no heed, and she was reaching out for him.
His hands met hers, guiding them over his skin. He freed one hand,
tracing light patterns over the exposed parts of her legs. The fire
and weight of everything was clouding over her mind, causing her to
moan in anticipation when she felt his fingers near her panties.
She wasn't aware of when it happened, but sometime in between the
fire and feel of him, a finger was slipped into her passage. The
redhead groaned, feeling pleasure fighting with the heat for
dominance of her thoughts. But neither won out, both washing over
her as he worked her to her climax.
She felt herself go over the edge suddenly, exploding on the inside.
And she was came down from her high, the fire began to dissipate as
well. Her mind was too foggy for her to comprehend much, her eyelids
too heavy to keep open. She felt him move, felt the slight caress of
his lips against her cheek and then her ear.
"Sleep," he whispered to her. "There will be much to deal with in
the morning."
And though the thought frightened her, the redhead found herself
listening to him. She drifted off into sleep, dreams of blood and
sex heavy on her mind.
*****
Part Three -Protocol and Friendly Furballs
Angel was having a bad day.
Scratch that, he was having a very bad week. Too many things had happened to him already and many other things to people who had the misfortune of knowing him. He thought the look on Cordelia's face when she found out about Darla had been bad, but it was nothing compared to now . . .
"This vamp took Willow because of you!"
The screaming had hurt him, more so than he ever thought. Not so much that it was Cordelia, but because he knew her words to be true. Funny how grief interrupted rational trains of thought. They all knew there was a fine difference between him and Angelus, but when stuff like this happened, they were both to blame.
And he really was to blame for it this time.
Willow had been taken. By Asher, one of the two vampires in all of existence that really really hated him. Spike disliked him for all the tricks he had played on him and Druscilla, Darla and the Master had been disgusted with him after he gained his soul, but Asher and Jean-Claude were the only two vampires in all existence who really hated him.
And he didn't blame them one bit. He remembered, in full detail, the things he and Spike had done to their friends, could close his eyes and smell the blood if he really wanted to. It had been one of Angelus's worst acts of violence. The fact it was against other vampires didn't make it any less heinous.
But now, a hundred years later, he wasn't even the one paying for it. No, Willow, sweet little Willow, was the one who was paying for his sins. Taken out of Sunnydale because she happened to befriend him and Spike in her short lifespan. Forced into being a human servant because he and Spike held her dear to their undead hearts. Her life was ruined because they cared for her.
And that was exactly the way Asher had wanted it.
Angel knew that vengeance on Asher's part was well-deserved, and he would have taken any punishment the other vampire saw fit. But against himself, not against innocent people, not against Willow.
The sheer anger he felt at it was crippling. He couldn't be near Connor anymore, the tension and anger rolling off his body was disconcerting for the young baby. Only Fred and Lorne were able to calm the agitated infant. Cordelia herself was too wound up, too concerned for Willow to do much of anything for the child. Wesley was in the same boat while Gunn, though not really knowing Willow, was ready to go to war for the redhead.
And that seemed like a good idea. Go to war for the redhead. In the long run, that might be what it takes to get Willow back from Asher. But the problem lay not in getting her back, but in what Asher had done to Willow in the meantime.
He gave her the first mark. She might have the second and third by now. He was going to make Willow his human servant, against her will.
Angel had punched a hole in his office wall when he got the news. It had been a good release, for the moment. But it didn't solve anything at all. They didn't know where Willow was and how many marks she had been given. But if Angel knew Asher, the vampire was rushing this along as quickly as possible. They might not be able to sever the link between the vampire and Willow by the time they found her, short of killing Asher. But then, they ran the possibility of killing Willow, something was completely not an option.
So they had to find Asher and they had to get Willow back. If it was even an option at that point. Hurting Asher was also on the menu, if they could do it without hurting Willow as well. Stupid bastard had planned this well enough. No retaliation could be sought against the Master vampire without running the risk of Willow feeling it as well. Very very clever Asher had been in thinking up his vengeance.
"What are we going to do?"
Oh, Cordelia was talking to him now. But too bad he didn't have an answer for her.
"We have to find Asher," he replied listlessly. "And if I know Asher, he's with Jean-Claude."
"Where's Jean-Claude?" Cordelia prompted.
"St. Louis," was the answer.
"Then we're going to St. Louis," Cordelia stated, turning to walk out of the office. "I'll phone Sunnydale and let them-"
"Cordy."
The single word stopped her in her tracks. She turned around hesitantly, eyeing him with caution.
"What?" she demanded.
"You can't go to St. Louis," he told her. "We can't go without permission. This isn't the 1800s anymore. Powerful vamps are not allowed to wander in and out of territories as they see fit. There's protocol."
"Protocol?" Cordelia repeated, tone icy. "Willow's been kidnapped and you're talking about protocol?"
"If we venture into Jean-Claude's territory without his permission, we can be killed!" Angel roared. "The Council will uphold it in the end because Jean-Claude will not have been the one to step out of bounds."
"But they kidnapped Willow!" she protested.
"What does the Vampire Council care of one little human?" Angel asked her tiredly. "And if Asher has given her the marks, they won't do anything at all. Bonds between vampire and human servant are very strong Cordelia. Anything that is done to Asher would be like doing it to Willow as well."
"But if this Jean-Claude person is as angry as you say, then he won't let you into St. Louis!" Cordelia threw back at him. "Then what do we do?"
"We negotiate," Angel replied. "We will send someone he can't deny sending into the city. Hell, we'll send Xander in a pink tutu if that's what it takes. But until we get permission, none of us can step foot in St. Louis without having a death warrant issued for us."
Cordelia let out a frustrated growl, giving his office wall a good swift kick.
"I hate this."
Angel only sighed, shaking his head as he reached for the phone.
"Then imagine how Willow must feel."
*****
Her eyes opened and she stared up at a dark painted ceiling. She frowned, disoriented for a moment, and then she remembered everything.
The redhead shot up in bed, casting a frantic look around her. There was no sign of HIM in the room. Funny, he was bonding her to him for all eternity, and he had never given her his name.
After a minute, she was certain that he wasn't in the room. Sighing in a bit of relief, the redhead tucked her legs underneath her, picking at the covers as she thought over her current situation.
Tears came to her eyes as she remembered what had happened, and the redhead fell over in tears. She grabbed at her pillow, drawing it closer to her body as the sobs came rushing out. It hurt her throat to cry so much, but she couldn't stop herself. Every single last ounce of fear and grief she had felt since HE took her came flooding out.
She wanted to die.
She remembered last night, remembered the heat and remembered the way she had practically begged for him. He had responded in kind, not actually entering her but taking her to orgasm rather adeptly. Now, she shuddered, thinking back on it. She wanted to throw up. She can't believe she had let him touch her like that. Not only let him, but practically cry for it. So what if he was devilishly handsome, he was a jerk. A big mean undead jerk who had apparently just fucked up her life royally.
She wanted to crawl into a hole and just die.
This was too much, the prospect of what was coming was too large. She cursed herself inwardly for not doing enough research on this type of vampire, of not paying much attention to them. The law regulated the souled vampires, the Slayer had no need to worry about them. But still, you think she would have looked something up on this, found out about human servants before running into HIM. Then maybe she would have refused his offer.
Or maybe not. He had planned it well enough. He had Anya and Xander at his mercy, making her choose between her friends and herself. He must have figured out that she would have done anything for her friends and used that against her.
And that's what made her so angry. HE had planned all of this, obviously watched them and made the decision on what course of action to take. He studied her just to use it against her, so he could take her away from Spike and Angel and make the two of them miserable. And guilty.
She hated him.
She absolutely, positively hated him. If she could hurt him, she would. If she could use magic to hurt him she would. But he had told her enough of being a human servant for her to suspect that anything that happened to him, would happen to her as well. Besides, not like she would use magic anyway. The power of the Dark Arts was too much temptation for her. Willow wasn't about to get out one of dangerous situation to land herself into one of her making. No, she didn't dare turn to magic to help her out of this one. She wondered if HE had known that. He probably did.
Bastard.
Her tears were stopping finally. Her eyes were sore and she just knew they were all puffy and red. Her nose was all stuffed up and she didn't see tissues anywhere in this room. Hell, there wasn't even a bathroom for her to go to wash up. It was just a room, with the dresser, the bed, and the vanity. There was nothing else, nowhere else for her to go.
Knocking on the door startled her out of her thoughts. The redhead jolted, looking fearfully towards the door. The knob started to turn and she scrambled into the farthest corner of the room.
Thinking HE was back, the redhead curled up into a ball and just will him to go away.
But it wasn't him, it was someone else.
"Hello?"
The soft voice surprised her. She raised her eyes to see a kind of short man with blonde hair venturing into the room. There was an aura about him, something that was oddly familiar to her, but she couldn't quite place it. His blue eyes held nothing but sympathy as he approached her cautiously.
"Asher said to come get you in the morning," he explainied. She frowned and then realized. Asher was HIM.
"What does he want?" she asked, voice breaking. The man sighed, raking a hand through his hair.
"He just wanted to make sure you got a shower and some food," the man explained. "He's sleeping now, so you don't have to worry about him."
"What about you?" she asked in a whisper. He gave her a small smile, one tinged with pity.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he told her. "I swear it. I just follow orders, I don't have to like them, but I follow them."
She shook her head, wrapping her arms around her legs and resting her chin on her knees.
"I'm not hungry," she pouted.
"You haven't eaten since you were brought here," he reminded her. "You may not be hungry, but you have to eat. You'll be weak otherwise."
"What does it matter?" she asked in a tearful voice. "What does any of it matter?"
He sighed, walking over to settle down in front of her.
"I can't say I don't feel for you," he whispered to her. "I think this sucks the big one. You shouldn't be involved in this, but you are. And unfortunately for you, it's a permanent thing, now that you have the marks."
She shuddered at the mention of those. He laid a comforting hand on her arm.
"But you don't have to miserable here," he tried to convey to her. "You can still get out, do things, meet people. I know that this isn't what you wanted, that your life was basically ripped away, but you don't have to stay in here, miserable forever. Do you want to spend the rest of your life in this room? With only Asher in to see you?"
His name did it. Imagining a lifetime of only him did it for her. She shook her head furiously, chin trembling at the thought.
"Good," he nodded, getting to his feet. He extended a hand to her.
"I know this bites, but I want you to know. I'm going to look out for you, a lot of the other people here are going to. You're not going to alone."
She managed a bit of a smile, excepting his hand.
"I'm Willow," she managed to whisper. He smiled at her in a reassuringly way.
"I'm Jason," he replied, tugging her to the door. "How about we get you some food and a change of clothes?"
She nodded, following him out.
"That would be nice."
*****
Part Four-Dissension In The Ranks
Ten paces to the right. Turn around, ten paces to the left.
Stopping now, tapping her foot. Looking up at the staircase, gazing off into nowhere. Eyes sliding to the left, glaring a hole into the vampire sitting on the couch. Turning again, pacing back those ten paces to the right. Stopping by the fireplace, head turning towards the kitchen, glaring at the other vampire now.
Dawn sighed, sitting back as she watched Buffy pace. Pace and glare, that's all the blonde did. The younger Summers wondered how long it would be until Buffy just got fed up and hurt Spike or Angel, though Angel seemed to be the most likely target for her anger now. Not only was he partly responsible for Willow being gone, he had showed up here with a baby. His baby, begotten by Darla. A miracle in itself, and the one thing Buffy had been sure that she would never be able to share with her old love.
Good thing Connor was so cute, Buffy couldn't keep an angry glare the child's way. But the father, that was another story. Dawn wondered if Buffy would stake Angel before the night was out. She was certainly leaning towards that, fingers clenching and eyes shooting death in his direction. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea for Angel to come down from LA to help with the Willow situation.
Of course, Dawn didn't understand why they couldn't just go in, guns blazing, and rescue their redheaded friend. It's what they always do, and it's a damn effective way of getting things done.
But Angel was mumbling about protocol and it not being the 1800s anymore. Dawn snorted. Like she actually believed that vampires, souled or not, gave a rat's ass about laws and protocol. Because this vamp in particular didn't. Hello, kidnapping is a crime and so against human protocol.
But maybe that was the problem. This wasn't human protocol. This was all vampy laws and customs. In human law, you broke the rules you go to jail whereas in vampire law, when you broke the rules, the vamp in charge breaks your neck.
Lovely little system they had set up.
Finally, the teenager got tired of watching Buffy pace and stew. She got to her feet, making her way to the relatively less tense kitchen, the place where the vamps and the Slayer were not.
Dawn pushed open the door, managing a small smile for the people inside. Wesley returned her smile, giving her shoulder a small squeeze in reassurance. She was grateful, she was. Wesley wasn't nearly as much of a prick as he had been during Buffy's senior year. No, he seemed a hell of a lot cooler. And less wimpy.
"Do you want to eat something? I could whip something up if you're hungry."
That was Fred, the girl Angel brought home from another dimension. The brunette was a definite sweetheart, totally going out of her way to help everyone in the house. She made a lot of food since she got here, fussing back and forth between the living room and kitchen, just trying to make sure that no one was making themselves sick from worry. Even Spike, she had ventured near him with many a cups of hot chocolate and blood. Fred was a darling, she really was.
"No thanks," Dawn replied, a strained smile offered to the girl. "I'm not hungry."
Fred nodded, stepping aside. Another cool thing about that girl, she knew when not to push. Dawn really liked her.
Xander sat rather dejectedly at the kitchen table, Anya on his lap and his head buried in her shoulder. Dawn winced at the sight of brunette, the angry bruises of the vamp's grip still very evident. Not for the first time since this happened did Dawn feel a homicidal rage swim up in her gut. If she ever found out where that vampire slept during the day . . .
But she couldn't. She wouldn't dare. Not with the possibility that Willow would die alongside him. There was this thing about the marks or whatever, bonding a vampire and human in really close ways. Like life and death ways. So while they were all rather angry, none were too quick to jump to the idea of immediate stakage.
They weren't going to run that risk with Willow's well-being.
Dawn settled herself down at the counter, next to the other member of Angel's group, Gunn. He just sat by the counter, polishing his axe for hours. Dawn could understand, it was a nice axe. And she figured it was one of those repetitive things people did to keep themselves sane in times of high stress.
Maybe she should break out some of the metal and start polishing alongside Gunn. If it worked for him, it might work for her. Of course, with a weapon in hand, Dawn would probably only be able to think about hurting the vamp that took Willow. So maybe it wouldn't get her mind off things.
There was another option, one that was upstairs with Cordelia and Lorne, the karaoke demon. Connor, the baby, the very cute baby. She could go up there and just play with him for hours on end.
That actually sounded like a plan. Dawn stood up, shrugging off Fred's concern at her rather abrupt departure. She raced past the living room, not wanting to see Buffy pace and glare anymore. Dawn ran up those steps, following the sounds of Cordelia's voice to Willow's room.
Maybe playing with the cute baby wouldn't make her want to break everything in sight.
Maybe, but not likely.
*****
He was waiting for him when he arose.
Asher was mildy irritated, wanting to go first to check on his new human servant before anything else. He had given Jason permission to take her out today, to buy her clothes and other things she would like. Might as well get the girl settled. She would be here for a while.
But no. The second he arose, there was a wolf waiting to lead him to Jean-Claude's chambers. He gave an unnecessary sigh and followed.
He knew that eventually Jean-Claude would call on him, when he realized the exact thing he had done, but Asher thought he could have waited until he checked on his redhead.
But apparently Jean-Claude could not.
"Yes?"
It was a bit colder than necessary, for he didn't believe Jean-Claude would be truly upset in the least. The Master of the City would have done it himself if Anita hadn't been in the picture.
"You could have warned me, mon ami."
Another sigh as he wandered further into the room. Asher sat himself down on one of Jean-Claude's couches, turning to face his friend.
"What good would it have done?" he asked quietly. "I wouldn't have stopped."
"I would not have tried to stop you," Jean-Claude returned easily. "But a warning would have been nice. As it is, I've received numerous calls from the Council on the matter of a
visitation request. From Angelus. He wishes to bring his Slayer into my city to retrieve your redhead."
A smirk took over his lips.
"Was Angelus very worried?" he murmured. There was a flash of fang on Jean-Claude's part, the Master of the City shooting his own smirk Asher's way.
"He was," he replied happily. "Very worried, very frantic, and very angry. You planned this well."
Asher merely nodded and the two of them fell into a bit of companionable silence.
"What will you say?" Asher finally asked. Jean-Claude sighed, bringing the tips of his fingers together as he thought.
"I have no choice to allow some of them here, to see her," he finally answered. "The Slayer would not take refusal lightly. If she did not get her Watchers' Council to intercede on her behalf, she would just come here, swinging wildly."
"You have fear of this Slayer?" It was a taunt, but an honest question.
"They say she is not like the rest," Jean-Claude replied with an elegant shrug of his shoulders. "She has lived longer than any of them, this I know. I know not whether I fear her, but I do believe she is a force to be reckoned with. Much like our Anita."
Asher nodded silently again. Once more a silence fell over the two, this time broken by Jean-Claude.
"When Anita hears of this . . ."
"She is your servant," Asher replied briskly. "Contain her."
"You know that is not possible," Jean-Claude retorted, tone disapproving. "She will not strike against you mon ami. But your relationship would be very strained. She will not approve of this, no matter how much I do."
"She understands revenge," Asher countered. "She practices it herself almost all the time."
"But you know her," Jean-Claude sighed. "For Anita, there is always a good reason for her to do it. But for others, not always so."
"Then our relationship will be strained," Asher shrugged. "It cannot be undone now. The redhead bears two of my marks."
"Already?" Jean-Claude murmured. "Well, you have been working fast."
Another smirk came over his features.
"When they come, it will be beyond their ability to repair," Asher stated softly. "She will belong to me, and never again to them."
"Quite the revenge," Jean-Claude assented. "But what of this girl? Was it worth it, disrupting her life so?"
His gaze hardened, eyes looking coldly at the wall in front of him.
"Yes."
Jean-Claude only nodded and then rose to his feet.
"Then we should go attend to your redhead now," the Master of the City concluded. "Come Asher, let's see how the petite fares."
Asher rose to his feet silently, following his friend to the door. In his mind eye, he saw nothing but row on row of mangled limbs, scarred faces that he had once known and loved. And he knew, right down in the bottom of his being.
No matter what this was doing to the redhead, it really was worth it.
*****