Dedication:
For Kelly, who provided helpful torture advice.
Spike opened his
eyes and looked up at a blinding white ceiling. Disoriented, he sat up. He
looked through a clear panel of glass, and saw a demon sitting in a glass
cell. Seeing that he’d been spotted,
the demon waved and smiled, it’s floppy skin jiggling.
He was back in
the bloody lab, Spike realized. It all came back to him: making love to Willow,
preparing to turn her, and having the commandos showing up, ruining the best
moment his unlife had to offer since Dru’d left him. With an angry growl, he
punched the wall.
Willow had to
be here, somewhere. They would have dragged her here as well, to interrogate
her or see if she was turned. His blood chilled at the thought of it; she was
so fragile now, and their thrall so new: what would the soldiers do to her?
He had to find
her. From the farthest corner of his cell, he took a running jump at the glass.
He hit the electronic force field and got zapped. Cursing, he did it again, and again, kicking at the glass with
all of his power.
A speaker came
on. “Hostile 17, cease your outburst immediately or we will be forced to take
countermeasures against you.”
Spike looked
through his pockets, trying to find something that might help him. Opening the
bag that he’d taken from Willow’s house, he took out the fist-sized chunk of
quartz that was within it. He threw it as hard as he could at the glass.
It hit the
force field with a blare of blue and bounced back at him, slamming him in the
forehead. “Bugger!” Spike murmured, dropping to the floor.
******
“I can’t
believe that you’d do this to me,” Willow said, as two tall commandos strapped
her down to a metal chair.
Maggie Walsh
clicked on a portable tape recorder and set it down. “The subject is a female,
approximately 18 years old. She appears to be of human physiology, although
bite marks in the neck indicate she may be host to a demonic parasite.”
“I’m not a
host of anything,” Willow protested. “I’m just a regular, human, American
person. You are violating my constitutional rights.” She furrowed her brow.
“And the Geneva convention and…” she paused. “I knew I should have picked
Amnesty International instead of the stupid Wicca group.”
“The subject
attacked our operatives with electrical charges that she appeared to emit
without outside means. DNA testing reveals the subject to possess the Romanian
sequence. As such, I am conducting the standard battery of tests for
extrasensory perception, telekinesis, precognition, telepathy, and manipulation
of matter. The subject has been given an injection of Rohypnol to ensure her
cooperation during the testing process.”
“You know me,“
Willow said. “I’m in your Psych 101 class. I always raise my hand, and I take
very good notes.”
Professor
Walsh rolled a metal table in front of Willow. There was a sealed deck of
cards, a silver beaker and a metal cup, a metal box, and a blindfold. “You’re a
good student,” the professor agreed. “And I think you’ll make an excellent
subject.”
*******
Spike lay on
his back, thinking. How the hell could he get out of here? Must be something he
could do to get the soldier boys to open the door.
Sitting up, he
rummaged through his coat, pulling out the envelope. He took out the pictures
of Willow, and carefully placed the ones of her alone in his pocket, underneath
his smokes. In several others she was kissing a red haired boy; that had to be
the wolf. With relish, Spike tore those up, making a pile on the floor.
He leafed
through the group shots, with his witch sandwiched between the idiot and the Slayer.
Prom, looked like. Halloween. Spike carefully tore around Willow’s image, and
then ripped Buffy and Xander into bits.
Soon, he had a
nice, tidy little stack of shredded paper. He set the envelope against the
glass and stacked the glossy scraps of photos on top. Taking a bottle of nail
polish from his coat, he tipped it, saturating the pile with a thin coat of
liquid black. With a flick of his Zippo, he set the pile on fire.
It caught
flame quickly, sending out a plume of black smoke and a foul scent. Spike
backed away from the fire, his face breaking into a smile as an alarm began to
blare.
“Activating
countermeasures,” said an electronic voice, and metal jets popped out of the
ceiling. Spike sputtered as cold water
poured over him. In a few seconds, the stream stopped.
Spike was left
soaking wet in his cell, the acrid smell of smoke in the air. “Bloody hell.”
********
Forrest came
into the lab and handed Doctor Walsh a metal clipboard. She read over the
results and looked up at him, her brow furrowing. “Are these correct?
“I had the
same reaction and asked the tech to run them again,” Forrest explained.
“Evidently, the high level of nonhuman DNA in her system is not organic. It’s
from an outside source.”
“I’m not
following you, Agent,” the doctor replied.
Forrest
cleared his throat. “The tech reports that the only way to have that high a
level of nonhuman DNA would be ingestion.”
Doctor Walsh’s
eyebrows rose. “She’s been ingesting nonhuman biological matter?” She turned
and looked at Willow. “That’s fascinating! We’ve never seen that before, have
we? A human killing demons and eating them?” She looked thoughtful. “It
presents a fascinating opportunity to develop a psychological profile-”
“Professor,
considering the subject’s bite mark, I believe we’re dealing with ingestion of
blood, and possibly semen, not ingestion of tissue,” Forrest said calmly.
“Oh!”
Professor Walsh’s eyebrows rose. “Well, that puts a different spin on it.”
“We captured a
hostile at the same time as her, in an intimate situation,” Forrest explained.
“We are verifying that he is the source of the nonhuman DNA we found in this
subject.”
*********
“You want me
to what?” Spike said incredulously, looking at the plastic cup in his hand.
“We need a semen
sample,” the commando repeated.
Spike laughed,
truly amused by the request. “So you fellows are just gonna stand around and
watch while I yank my pud?”
The trio of
commandos that surrounded him stared at him impassively, their guns trained on
him. “We are not leaving this cell
without it,” the soldier said. “So you can turn around, do your business, and
we’ll do this the easy way.” He smiled. “Or, we can do it the hard way.”
“Well, you
know, fellas,” Spike said seriously. “I really can’t say that I’m in the mood
for a circle jerk at the moment.” Quick as a flash, he ducked, punching two of
the soldiers in the knees. The sound of
snapping bone filled the air as they fell to the floor, both of them pulling the
trigger on their stun guns. One blast hit the remaining commando and he fell to
the floor, twitching.
Spike stomped
on the chest of a soldier and took his gun and security card enjoying the crack
of his ribcage shattering. He repeated
the process with the others, and looked down at the firepower in his hands.
“Much, much better.” He opened the cell door with the card as yellow lights
blinked in the hallway outside his cell, and he heard the sound of running
feet.
He ran across
the hall and opened the door, releasing the wrinkly skinned demon. “Let out the
others and kill some of these commando bastards,” he instructed, handing him
the gun.
The demon
wouldn’t take it. “Oh, I don’t believe in violence. I believe in the peaceful,
non-confrontational working out of difference of opinion.”
Spike looked
at him incredulously. “You sure you’re a demon?”
“Takes all
kinds,” he said happily. “Anyway, thanks for letting me out.” He took off down
the hallway at a fast sprint.
Shrugging,
Spike went to the next cell. It was a
large, pissed off looking Fyarl. “Hey there,” Spike said in its native tongue.
“Be a good sport and go kill some humans, OK?” The huge demon growled happily
and took off.
At the next
cell, there was a vampire, one of Spike’s old minions. “Spike!” he said
happily. “You’ve come to save us all!”
“Yes, I’m the
messiah,” Spike quipped. “Bow down before me.”
The vampire
knelt down, looking up reverently at Spike. “Oh for God’s sake, get up!” Spike
snapped, dragging the other vamp to his feet. “Now take this card, and open the
other cells. Overpower the commandos and kill them all.”
“Yes, Master,”
the vampire said, taking the equipment offered.
“Knock off the
master crap,” Spike said. “Really, no one likes a brown noser, do they?” He
turned to the next cell, and stopped short. “Oh, bloody hell!”
Harmony
clapped her hands. “Spikey!”
*****
Doctor Walsh put the blindfold around
Willow’s eyes and settled back into her chair.
She cracked the seal on the Zener deck and looked at the first card.
“Willow, can you tell what card I am looking at?”
“Five of
spades?” Willow guessed.
Doctor Walsh
hit a button on her keypad, and Willow screamed as a bolt of electricity
shocked her. “I do not have times for your flippant games,” the professor said
coldly. “Now, focus on the task at
hand, and I will not have to call on negative reinforcement to capture your
full attention.” Willow whimpered. “Now, let’s try again.”
“We need you
in the control room,” said a static-distorted voice over an intercom.
The professor
pressed on a button. “I am conducting a
controlled experiment. I specifically
asked not to be disturbed.”
“We have a
situation,” the voice advised her.
Angrily, she
stormed out of the psych lab and headed down the hall. Sirens were whooping as
red lights flashed. She keyed into the control room and found Riley, Colonel
McNamara and several other officers clustered around a bank of monitors.
“Who gave the
order to go to Level Red?” she barked.
The colonel
snapped to attention. “I did, Professor.
Hostile 17 has escaped his cell, and he has assisted other hostiles in escaping
as well. No one has breached the perimeter at this time, but we need to decide
what measure of action to take.”
She nodded.
“Very well. I had barely begun to perform the Romany battery on a subject in
the psych lab. She’s a very compelling case, and I want a thorough work up on
her before we moved on to the physiological studies.” She turned to Riley.
“Agent Finn, I trust that you can deal with this situation.”
Doctor Walsh
headed back to the lab and entered, opening a cabinet and taking down a fresh
deck of Zener cards before turning to the subject. She was slumped forward in
her chair, her head in her lap. The professor sat in front of her and tapped at
the keyboard, and adrenaline surged into Willow’s body, fed through the tap in
her hand.
She gasped as
she sat up straight, her body tight with tension. “If you focus on the task at hand,” Doctor Walsh said dispassionately,
looking at her biorhythms on the monitor, “we will have no reason to resort to
negative reinforcement.”
***********
The doctor’s
feet kicked helplessly in the air as he clawed at the strong hands that were
choking him. “Where’s the girl?” Spike hissed through his fangs.
“He can’t
answer you if he can’t breathe,” Harmony explained. “I think you need air to
talk.”
Spike turned
and glared at the other vampire. “I don’t recall asking for your input, Harm.”
“Well, I’m
just saying,” Harmony said. “Look. You killed him, and now he’s all blue.” She
laughed. “He’s all Smurfy now.”
With a shout
of disgust, Spike tossed aside the body.
“Go away before I stake you again, Harmony.”
“I don’t know
why you’re looking for Willow,” Harmony complained. “What does the Initiative
want with a little geek like her anyway?”
Spike brushed
past her and grabbed another doctor from the huddle of scared people that a
circle of vampires had pressed against the wall. “Where’s the girl who got
captured with me?” he said, shaking the tubby bald man.
“I don’t know
where they took her after Intake,” the doctor babbled. “I took a hair sample
and drew blood, that’s all.”
“Who came to
get her?” Spike asked.
“I don’t
know,” the doctor insisted.
“Fat sodding
lot of help you’ve been,” said Spike, and snapped his neck, tossing him to
Harm. She shifted and plunged her jaws into the neck of the victim. The
vampires made appreciative noises and moved in together on the captives, who
proceeded to scream and cry.
“I know where
she is!” screeched a skinny blonde, her glasses slipping down her nose. Spike
leaned down and grabbed her.
“Where is
she?” Spike growled.
“She’s being
tested in the lab,” the tech informed him. “She tested positive on the Romanian
sequence.”
“The what?”
Spike said, confused.
“She’s got the
DNA sequence for paranormal activity,” the tech explained. “Doctor Walsh is
testing her in the psych lab for the breeding program.”
“Take me to
the lab, now!” Spike commanded. He yanked the woman to her feet and turned to
the group of vampires. “You all, come with me,” Spike instructed, pointing to a
few demons. “The rest of you, enjoy your meal.”
Spike grabbed
the tech and walked out of the dispensary, followed by his largest minions and
the screams of the dying.
********
Doctor Walsh
slammed her hand down on the button, and Willow screamed as she was hit with an
electrical jolt. “God, help me,” she whimpered, panting for breath.
“A creature
like you has no right to say the name of God,” the professor said harshly.
“I’m not a
creature,” Willow said. “I’m Willow Rosenberg. You know me.”
“I thought I
knew you, but in fact, you’re a hostile,” she said.
“I’m not
hostile,” the witch protested. “I’m not even mean. How can you do this to me?”
“I have a job to
do.” Doctor Walsh glared at her disappointing subject. “Now, you can cooperate
with me, or we can get ugly. Which way do you want it?”
“I can’t
believe that I looked up to you,” Willow said. “You seemed like such a good
role model.”
“Well, you
seemed like a human being, so I’d say we were both mistaken.”
“I am a human
being,” Willow protested.
“Your Romanian
sequence indicates that you aren’t completely human,” Doctor Walsh said.
“Additionally, you’re a few doses of vampire blood away from complete parasitic
infestation.”
“I don’t
understand what you’re talking about,” Willow said.
“I’ll make it
very simple for you,” the professor stated. “You’re a hostile, but you could be
a useful hostile. So submit to the tests, and I won’t have to hurt you.”
“I’m not a lab
rat,” Willow insisted. “And I’m not scared of you.”
She leaned
forward and closed her hand around Willow’s throat. “Then I’ll just have to
teach you how to be.”
********
A war was
waging in the corridor. The demons seemed to be gaining, if the number of
bodies in camouflage littering the halls was any indication. Spike tugged his hostage after him and
turned the corner. A wave of soldiers in black riot gear was running down the
hall, shields held high in formation. He spun back. “We need another way to
go.”
The tech
started to cry. “I don’t know another way.”
His hand
clenched hard around her wrist. “Think very hard if you want to go on living.”
“There’s a
storage room, but there’s no access through it.”
“Not a problem
for me,” he said. “Let’s go.” She directed him into the closet, and the door
shut on the mayhem behind them.
******
Willow’s face
was beaded with sweat, and she breathed heavily as she recovered from the jolt
of pain.
“The longer you drag this out, the harder
you’re making it on yourself,” Doctor Walsh said patiently. “Now, Willow, focus
on the beaker, and pour the water into the cup.”
Willow looked
at her captor, her eyes unfocused. “I’m not doing any tricks for you, you
Nazi.”
Doctor Walsh
slapped her hard across the face, breaking open her lip. “I’m not a Nazi. I’m a
scientist.”
“You’re a
sadist,” Willow said, blood dripping down her chin. Her head slammed back into
the metal chair from a second blow.
“You’re a
freak of nature, that’s what you are.” Professor Walsh’s breath quickened, her
hands tightening into fists. “They should have a way to mark the ones that look
normal, so that everyone knows what they’re really dealing with.”
“How about a
nice tattoo on the arm?” Willow suggested.
“That worked really well for your forebears at Auschwitz.” The professor
punched her hard in the jaw, and she cried out in pain.
Doctor Walsh
sat down in the chair and wiped the blood off her knuckles with a tissue from
her lab coat. “Now,” she said smoothly. “We are going to test your precognitive
abilities.”
“You want me
to tell you your fortune?” Willow asked groggily, her head lolling back. “My
Grammy used to do that for me, with tea leaves.”
“Do you see
visions of the future?” the professor asked, her eyes full of interest.
“Sometimes,”
she said, her eyes barely open. “When I was little, I used to tell people, but
it upset them, so I stopped. Like the neighbor’s dog running away, and Christi
Hober getting hit by a car. I see
halos, too. Since I started working with magick, I see them again. Like yours, it’s all jagged and red. It’s
really ugly. Spike doesn’t have one, I guess since he’s dead.”
“Let’s get
back to the future,” said Doctor Walsh.
Willow
laughed. “I like that movie. McFly.”
The professor shocked her again, and the wicca’s body arched in the chair. She
stilled for a moment, and looked at the older woman, her sweaty hair plastered
to her face. “I can tell you your
fortune,” Willow said quietly. “Do you want to know what it is?”
Doctor Walsh
looked at her seriously. “Yes.”
“You’re going
to die,” she whispered, a sweet smile on her face.
“What makes
you say that?” the professor asked.
Spike grabbed
Dr. Walsh’s head in both hands and twisted, breaking her neck with a loud
pop. The woman’s body slumped to the
floor, the rolling chair spinning across the room. Spike broke the cuffs that secured Willow to the chair. “Look what
they’ve done to you,” he snarled, enraged by the witch’s battered face. He tilted her head with his fingertips,
taking in the bruises and cuts that marred her skin. “Look what that sick bitch
did to my sweet girl.”
“I knew you’d
come,” she said, her eyes closing. “It was so hard to hold on.” She passed out, her body going limp.
He pulled her
into his arms and lifted her, pressing a kiss to her head. “Spike’s here, baby.
I’ll take care of you now.” Spike strode out the door, cradling his precious
burden to his chest. He followed the flow of fleeing demons, and headed out of
the Initiative, never looking back.
*******
Willow
awakened to the sound of a humming motor. She rolled, wincing when her face
touched something. “You awake now, love?” Spike asked. He was smoking a
cigarette; the smoke filling the air and making her feel nauseous.
Willow sat up
slowly. She was in the backseat of Spike’s car. It had been make up like a bed,
with a soft pillow under her head and a thick blanket covering her. “What’s
going on?”
“We’re in the
desert,” he said. “It’s getting near dawn, so we’ll pull over and get a room
next thing we see.”
“Where exactly
are we going?” she asked, tentatively touching the huge bruise on the side of
her face.
“We’re heading
to the Big Easy like we’d planned.” he said. “I’ve got the minions wrapping
things up in Sunnydale. Found the bloke that had taken off with the treasure
from the crypt where the gem of Amarra was, so I’d say we won’t have a bit of
trouble staying flush enough for blood and fags. ” He smiled at her over the shoulder. “And some pretties for you,
of course.”
She leaned
back down. “I’m really tired, Spike.”
“Rest then,”
he said. “I’ll wake you when we get there.”
The next time
she awoke, she was in a very dark room. She rolled over and crashed into the
back of Spike. He stirred a bit, rolling to face her. “You up now?”
“Yeah,” she
said. “My head is throbbing.”
He switched on
the light, clucking when he saw her face. “My little technicolor Wicca,” he
said, gently running his hand over her cheek.
“Bloody slag deserved what she got.”
“How did I get
hurt?” she asked. “I don’t- I don’t really remember much.” Her memory was hazy,
but she remembered Spike carrying her, whispering assurances of safety in her
ear. She remembered the commandos, her hitting Graham with a bolt of magick.
“Commandos
tortured you after we got captured,” he said. “I’m very glad you don’t
remember, baby.” He looked at her, frowning. “I had a doctor come up to see you,”
he said. “He left you some pain pills. Do you want one?”
“Yes, please,”
she said.
Spike came
back with a pill and water, and she drank it. “You want me to order you some
food?” he asked.
“I’m hungry,
but I feel kind of sick,” she said.
“Maybe a milkshake?”
he said. “Or an omelet?”
She shook her
head. “I think I want to take a bath.”
“Do you want
me to run it for you?” He nuzzled her neck, his hand running through her hair.
“Or I could join you,” he suggested, his voice low.
“No, I think I
could use a little time alone.”
He sighed and
kissed her head. “I’m just going to watch a bit of telly then,” he replied. “If
you need me, just call.”
Willow made
her way to the bathroom and looked in the mirror. Her face was completely
distorted, streaked with shades of green and purple and red. One of her eyes
had a red streak across it.
Turning the
taps on the water, Willow filled the tub.
She got in, wincing as the hot water hit her skin. The pain started to
dull, the water lulling her muscles.
She sank below the surface of the water and closed her eyes. What had
happened to her? Flashes of memory: a remembrance of pain, a white room, and a
metal cup. She let go of trying, and
just was. Warm, comfortable, happy.
The next thing
she knew, she was on the slippery tile, gasping for air. Spike looked down at
her, his eyes wide as she coughed up a torrent of water. “Are you trying to
kill yourself?” he asked.
“I’m really
not sure anymore,” she gasped, her throat raw.
Spike carried
her to the bed and sat her down. “No more alone time for you. You get into far
too much trouble when left to your own devices.” He sat down next to her and dried her hair off with a towel.
“I can do that
myself,” Willow protested.
“You have such
pretty hair,” he commented. “First thing I noticed about you.”
“Clairol Red
Poppy,” she said. “Yours for a mere 7.99.”
Spike laughed.
“I’m not one to talk,” he replied, gesturing to his head.
Willow closed
her eyes, enjoying the feel of his hands on her hair. “I think you would look
nice with your natural color.”
He paused.
“How would you know what color my hair really is?”
“Well, you
don’t dye your pubes,” she said. “Kind of a dead giveaway, there.” She grinned.
“No pun intended.”
“Yeah, well
your rug don’t match the drapes either,” he teased.
“True,” she
said, her face breaking into a smile. “Ow. Stop making me smile. My face
hurts.”
Spike pushed
her down on her back and smiled down at her. “I can kiss it and make it
better.”
“How can you
even want me?” she asked. “I look hideous.”
He cradled his
face in her hands. “Not to me. I think you’re beautiful.”
“You think I’m
beautiful?” she said, pleased.
“Brave, and
beautiful, and sweet as wine.” Spike wrapped his arms around her and kissed
her. She sighed as his soft lips moved on hers, incredibly gentle.
“You’re such a
good kisser,” she murmured. He kissed her more, delicately probing and feeling
the inside of her mouth.
“I thought I’d
lost you,” he said, looking in her eyes. “It drove me mad, not being able to
get to you.”
“Weren’t you
afraid that they would put another chip in, hurt you?”
Spike shook
his head. “All I thought about was you.” He kissed her neck, his tongue lapping
at the scab of his bite mark. It was like extra nerve endings were there; her
entire body responded, becoming wet and soft and receptive to him.
Willow pulled
her mouth up to his and kissed him, putting into the kiss all of her gratitude
for him saving her, her attraction to him, the tender feelings that he brought
out within her.
He pulled
away. “You’re driving me mad, love. You’re not well, you should rest.” He was
erect already, his red cock jutting against his stomach.
She took his
hand in hers. “Don’t go.”
They looked in
each other’s eyes, and Spike moved over her. “You’re so sweet and soft,” he
whispered. “But so strong, so powerful.” He slipped a finger inside her, slowly
stroking in and out. “It’s the contrast that snared me, love. The layers of
you, so complex, and all I want to do is open them up, and get to the center of
it all. The mystery of you.”
“I’m not
mysterious,” she whispered. “I’m not special.”
“You’re
incomparable,” he said, entering her, moving in and out in smooth strokes. His
features shifted, and so did his body, lengthening and bulking, muscles
rippling beneath his skin.
“Don’t bite
me,” Willow said.
He shifted
back to his human visage. “Thought you liked the monster.”
Willow moved
her mouth to his, and they kissed as they made love. Skin slid across skin, fingers entwining as they moved together
slowly. “Spike,” Willow murmured, her voice cracking.
Spike watched
as her eyes closed tight, her mouth opening in wonder as she reached her peak.
He buried his face in her neck as he came, his body shaking with the intensity
of his release. They curled around each other and slept.
Willow
dreamed. She was sitting on Doctor
Walsh’s table in the lecture hall, and Riley was tattooing a pentagram on her
arm. “You need to let everyone know what you really are,” he said. “So that
there’s no confusion.”
“I thought I
did, though,” said Willow. She turned her arm, showing the heart pinned to her
sleeve.
Riley shook
his head. “Not good enough. You need to be more explicit.”
“I could wear little
vamp fangs,” she suggested.
Buffy and Oz
walked into the room, chatting. “I Kill Bad Things!” Buffy’s t-shirt
proclaimed. “I’m A Bad Thing,” his announced.
“You don’t
have anything on your shirt,” Willow told Riley. “No one knows what you are.”
Riley set down
the needle and unzipped his backpack. “I was issued one, but I haven’t had a
chance to change,” he explained. He held it up so she could read it. “I’m Dead,” the shirt announced in bold
letters.
Professor
Walsh walked into the room, carrying a folded shirt. “That’s the wrong one,
Agent Finn.” She took it away, handing him the one she held. “That shirt is
mine.” The professor pulled it over her head, the baggy black shirt incongruous
with her suit.
“Are you ready
now?” Riley asked her. “It’s a big transition.”
“Fortune
favors the brave,” Doctor Walsh replied. With a gentle smile, Riley reached out
and snapped her neck.
Willow woke
up, her heart racing. Spike’s arm was thrown across her chest, his face nuzzled
into her neck. She carefully lifted his arm, and went into the bathroom.
Doctor Walsh
was dead and she’d just had sex with the monster that did it. Willow knelt down
in front of the toilet and retched over and over, but her empty stomach had
nothing to offer other than bile.
She lay down
on the cool tile and closed her eyes. Spike was affectionate, and gentle, and
kind. He was also moody, psychotic, and soulless. He’d killed someone who had
hurt her, and the sick thing was, it made her feel so loved. His loyalty to
her, his feelings for her, were undeniable now.
Spike wanted
her to be with him eternally, and she wanted it too. Part of that had to be the
thrall; it has certainly begun there. But a larger part of it was her desire.
She wanted what he had to offer, even though she knew it was insane.
Willow thought
through the situation. He’d never willingly let her go; he wanted her as his
creature. Far from home, without any ID or money, she was screwed. She laughed,
feeling the insanity of it all. The most insane thing of all was: she wanted to
stay. The connection with him was so strong, and it would be bliss to have that
for eternity. She loved and wanted Spike, even though it was so utterly wrong.
Willow lay
still for a long time, feeling the beating of her heart. All she had to do would be to go to the next
room, and whisper in Spike’s ear, and all of the pain of her crappy life would
be over. No more people laughing at her. No more loss. He would care for her,
and help her learn, and make her happy, and it would never end. It would just be her, and Spike, forever.
She sat up and
took down a book of matches and a votive candle from the counter. Setting it on
the floor, she took a deep breath, and then lit it. “Mnemosyne, goddess of memory,” she whispered. “I call on you to assist
me with my task.” The candle flared high, and Willow felt an outside presence
enter her. The witch fixed her mind on Spike, his smile, his laugh, his
snapping fangs, and his hands snuffing the life from Doctor Walsh. “Go on with
your life. Find a witch, who can give you what you want, someone who will love
you, and accept what you are. Be happy, and try not to kill anyone. Forget
about me, and never come back to Sunnydale.” She concentrated with all her
might, and she could feel the magic surging inside her. The spell had worked.
“I thank you for your gift, Mnemosyne, and I am grateful.” The spirit slipped
away, leaving her alone. With a long breath, she blew out the candle.
Willow stepped
into the bedroom and quietly pulled on her clothes. Creeping to the door, she
left, closing it softly behind her.
Spike’s eyes
popped open, and his hand reached across the bed. Feeling nothing, he frowned,
and then drifted back into sleep.
FEEDBACK: Sure, fire away to [email protected]