Title: Learning Curve
Author: Kat, a.k.a. KallieRose
E-mail: [email protected]
Rating: NC-17 
Pairing: Willow/Spike
Disclaimer: I acknowledge Joss Whedon as god of gods. All the characters in this story are his creation, along with Fox, the rest of the Mutant Enemy Crew, and whomever else wants to lay claim to them. I'm merely killing time by putting them in totally unrealistic situations :-)
Summary: Giles asks Spike for a favor that he probably shouldn't have.  Much angst and wackiness ensues
Spoilers: Spoilers for season 4 Buffy.  Spike has escaped the Initiative and is reluctantly helping the gang.
A/N:  Thanks to Knightie for the beta.  All errors are of course my own.  Hey, I have to own *something*, right?

Learning Curve

Part 10

Willow lay on the bed and reflected on her life, or, actually, her unlife.  She could hear Spike talking to Giles, explaining how things were and what was going on.

When Spike referred to her as a 'bloody pain in his ass' she flinched slightly, surprised at the vehemence in his voice.  She realized, sort of, that she had been fighting him for control, but it seemed almost a subconscious reaction.  There was no rhyme or reason to it; if he said 'go right' she instinctively headed left.  Why did she do it?  Was it a normal part of the sire/childe relationship?  Perhaps it was the soul making itself known?  Or was it some perverse way for her to declare her independence?

She had never been a particularly strong-willed person, Willow acknowledged.  Sure, there was her 'resolve face,' but it was something she used only on the rarest of occasions.  Someone like Buffy had no need of a resolve face; her thoughts and decisions were always taken seriously.  Nobody ever tried to marginalize her or treat her as if her opinions didn't matter.

Earlier, at Willy's, Spike had made her feel like a child; someone so weak and helpless that they could never be considered an adult.  When the demon had come up to her, asking why such a pretty thing was all alone, she had jumped at the kind words and had never considered the source.  That impetuous action had almost gotten her killed.  It would have, if Spike hadn't caught her just in time.

So what could she do now?  Apologize?  Throw herself on his mercy like a child asking for parental approval?  Something inside of her screamed NO.  She just couldn't give up what little control she had; couldn't give him such power over her.  He would only use her and then destroy her.

But she needed him.  Without him she was fair game to any vampire or demon that wanted a piece of her.  But with Spike's help she could be strong.

She would just have to agree to play the game by his rules.  For now.

Anya lay quietly in the bed that she shared with Xander, watching the young man sleep.  His dreams were troubled; he would be still for a while, and then suddenly his body would jerk under the covers, and a softly moaned 'no,' would break the silence.

She suspected that he was dreaming of Willow.  The thought didn't bother her like it used to.  Early on, when she didn't feel quite as secure about her place in Xander's life, she would occasionally be a little jealous of his close friendship with Willow and the history that they shared.  Sometimes she had felt like she would scream if she had to hear that 'yellow crayon' story one more time.

Time, along with lots of sex, had made her a bit more comfortable.  And now that Willow was a vampire she could feel even more secure about her place in Xander's world.  As much as he had cared for his childhood friend, the knowledge that she was a vampire would forever put her off limits, as far as Xander was concerned.

And even if he *did* still have an interest in her, which he didn't, there was still Spike.  Willow's sire.  He didn't seem like the type of demon who would share.

Anya had been around; she knew about the bond between sire and childe, both the emotional and the sexual components.  She wondered if they had slept together yet.  And if they had, would Willow give her the details?

The redhead had always been chintzy about details in the past, whether due to shyness or meanness Anya had never been sure.  She suspected it was part of that human silliness about 'privacy' and that it fell into that category Xander had of 'things we don't talk about, Anya.'

The others seemed to want to tiptoe around the fact that Giles had practically sold Willow into slavery when he had asked Spike to turn her.  Sure, she still had her free will, for the most part, but from now on there would always be that bond; that pull towards Spike, no matter what.

And then there was the passage of time to consider:  as the humans got older, Willow would retain her eternal youth, always looking the part of the perennial teenager.  A part of her was slightly jealous of that.  Back in her days as a vengeance demon she had rarely thought about her immortality; she had merely accepted it as the way it was.  But someday soon she would start to feel the cold hand of time on her face, adding wrinkles and blemishes to her weak, human skin.

The thought was appalling.

Her mind drifted and she began to think about the housewarming party that Xander and Buffy wanted to have for Willow.   The two of them had been scouring the thrift shops and garage sales looking for things that would make their home look a little homier, and a little less like a vampire lair.

During her one hurried visit to the place Anya had been duly impressed.  Very few windows, dark curtains, small kitchen with a microwave.  Seemed like the ideal home for the vampire with a soul.  The addition of cable TV and high-speed internet access made it even more desirable for the pair.

The man next to her stirred fitfully, beginning to wake up at long last.  Anya seemed to need less sleep than Xander did, a fact that amused him and frustrated her.  She wanted to be out and about, doing things, but it just didn't seem as much fun without Xander around.

"Morning," he yawned, stretching his body in an attempt to drive away the last lingering bits of sleep.

"Good morning," she chirped back, eager to get him up.  Today was the day they were supposed to move everything in to Willow's new home, and Anya was eager to get it all finished.  She had to admit to herself, even if she wouldn't admit it to anyone else, she was curious to see what this new Willow was like.

They met up with Buffy and Giles in front of a rather upscale duplex not too far from campus.  The grounds were heavily shaded, and the windows that looked out onto the front yard were completely in the shadow of several huge redwood trees.

The building itself was painted a tasteful dark brown.  Boring, but quite neutral.  It blended into the surroundings quite nicely.

When Giles used his key to let them in, they wandered inside and immediately went to work on deciding which pieces of furniture would go where.  Yesterday Buffy and Xander had loaded their purchases into Joyce's SUV.  Buffy had driven it over in the morning, picking Giles up along the way.  And although Giles had complained bitterly the entire way, Buffy had managed to get them to the house on time, and without incident.

They quickly unloaded the SUV, carefully positioning each piece of furniture in just the right way.  Spike had his own TV, so they had not bothered to buy a new one, but they had managed to procure a TV stand, a VCR, and a matching cream-colored sofa and loveseat.  A pair of forest green high-backed chairs and a couple of small end tables completed the room.

"Not too bad, considering we threw it all together in about a day and a half," Buffy proclaimed, watching with a smile as Xander placed a small framed picture of them all in the center of one of the tables.  The photo had been taken about three months ago, during an impromptu trip to the beach.  They all wore their bathing suits, except Giles who had bowed to the temperatures only enough to wear a pair of long shorts.  It had been a wonderful day, and every so often Xander would look at that picture and smile fondly.  He had kept the photo in his room, stuck in the corner of his bedroom mirror, but had decided that Willow might want to keep it for now, as a memento of happier days.

It never occurred to him that it would also be a constant reminder of the one thing that she would never feel again:  the sun.

They worked methodically, making their way from room to room with a minimum of conversation.  In the kitchen they piled up mismatched plates, flatware and glasses, even though they knew that the two who would live there had no use for the first two items.  Still, it might be nice to have them on hand in case anyone decided to order pizza.  Or whatever.  They knew that Spike still ate on occasion, so Willow probably would too.

The bedrooms presented a bit of a quandary.  Xander and Buffy insisted on making one room quite Willow-friendly:  they filled a closet with things taken from her own room, and had 'borrowed' as much of the furniture there as they could get their hands on.  Willow's parents were out of town as usual, so they were able to get just about everything except for the bed and the dresser into Xander's truck.  They had been able to find a clean, almost-new mattress, box spring, frame and headboard for a reasonably cheap price, so those were set up as well.

The other bedroom was supposed to be for Spike, and that was left almost completely empty.  There had been a decided lack of enthusiasm when it came time to pick out something for the vampire, so the room was mostly bare, except for a mattress and box spring that sat awkwardly in the middle of the floor.

Neither Giles nor Anya had the heart to tell Buffy and Xander that the two vampires were undoubtedly sleeping together already, even if they hadn't actually had sex.  They decided to leave the rooms the way that Buffy and Xander had prepared them, knowing that Spike and Willow would be able to fix things to their liking once they were alone.

By noon the four of them were exhausted but happy.  The house looked almost homey, and hopefully Willow would feel comfortable here as she adjusted to the changes in her life.  Spike could rot in hell, as far as Buffy and Xander were concerned, but since he was along for the ride, they had agreed to play nice tonight when everyone got together.

"I'd say we have done rather a full day's work already," Giles announced, as he stood outside and locked the door to the house.  "Shall we go our separate ways for a few hours, and then meet back at my place around six-thirty?  I am sure that we could all use a shower." 'And perhaps a short nap,' he finished to himself.

Xander practically had to carry Anya to the car, his girlfriend was *that* tired.  Buffy, on the other hand, seemed happier than she had in a couple of days.  Being able to actually do something to help seemed to have given her a chance to think of something besides revenge, and Giles was happy to see a small smile cross her lips as she looked back at the house with satisfaction.

"She'll like it, won't she?" she asked uncertainly, as she and Giles got into the SUV.  "I mean, I know it's not like her old place, but then again she probably won't be like our old Willow, so it's okay, right?"

"Buffy, you all did a wonderful job.  I am sure that Willow will be very excited to see her new place."  Spike, on the other hand . . . his thoughts about the blond vampire were better left unsaid.  The Watcher only hoped that Spike wouldn't be in too disagreeable of a mood tonight.

Quite a bit depended on this first re-introduction, he realized.  So much had happened in such a short time, and although most of it had happened to Willow, the after affects would be felt by those who loved her for a long time afterwards.  If things did not go well tonight between Buffy, Xander and Willow, he feared that the redhead would become more and more isolated from all humans.  He didn't even want to think of the possible consequences of that happening.

Instead, he hoped for all of their sakes, that things went smoothly tonight.

Part 11

Angel had been feeling something for a couple of days.  It was more than a 'something,' really.  When he concentrated on it, this little speck in the corner of his mind, he felt confusion and anger and uncertainty.

He had felt something like this before.  As hard as he tried to deny it, he suspected that he knew exactly what it was.  One of his childer had made a childe.

But which one?  Drusilla never made childer; she was way too self-absorbed, not to mention too insane, to undertake such an effort.  But the last he had heard, Spike had a chip in his head that was supposed to keep him from harming human beings.  So that seemed to leave him out of the running too.

Yet the niggling feelings continued, and over the course of a day they even got stronger.  He just didn't get it.

Should he call Sunnydale?  If Spike's implant had malfunctioned, shouldn't someone there be told about it?  There was no doubt in Angel's mind that if Spike were able to kill again, his first target would be Buffy.  The hatred he felt for the Slayer went beyond just the usual hated a vampire felt for a slayer.  With Spike it was deeply personal.

Angel sat at his desk, elbows on the smooth wooden surface.  Buffy ought to know, he decided.  But the years and events that had torn them apart made him feel uneasy about calling his former love, so when he opened his old address book, his fingers went to the page for 'G', and his fingers punched into the cell phone the number of one Rupert Giles.

Giles had just finished his shower and was toweling the remaining water from his body when he heard the phone ringing.  "Of course," he muttered, frustrated, "Can't a fellow have a decent shower without some bloody solicitor calling up to sell him an acre of swamp land?"

Securing the towel around his waist, he lunged for the phone, lifting the receiver moments before his machine would have picked up the call.  "Yes?" he mumbled testily.

"Giles?"

Surprisingly, it actually took him a moment to place the quiet voice.  He and Angel had had very little contact in the time since the vampire had moved to Los Angeles, and that was exactly the way he preferred it.  On the other hand, if Angel had taken the initiative to call him, then Giles knew that something fairly serious must be happening.

"Yes, Angel?  It is you, isn't it?"

"Yes, it's me," he answered.  Hearing the Watcher's voice had brought back memories of his time in Sunnydale, and for a moment he fought those memories as if they were a tide that threatened to pull him under.  Emotions that had lain dormant resurfaced with a vengeance, and it took him a moment to regain his composure.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but there might be a situation that you should be aware of."

'You think *you* have a situation,' Giles thought wryly.  But Angel had gone to the trouble of giving him a call, so he would at least listen to what the vampire had to say.

"What kind of situation is that?" he inquired politely.

"Well, I'm not sure.  I-" his voice faded for a moment, and Giles wondered if perhaps the connection had gone bad.

"Angel?  Are you still there?" he asked anxiously.

A sigh, and then, "Yes, I'm sorry.  It's just-I'm not sure if this is really a situation or not.  I-well, I think one of my childer has sired a child.  And since Spike has that implant, and Drusilla is-well, insane, I'm rather at a loss as to what might be causing this feeling.â€?

"Feeling?" Giles asked sharply.  "You can feel her?"

Angel either didn't notice Giles' use of the female pronoun, or perhaps he misunderstood it.  "Yes, I feel them both.  It's a part of the childe-sire bond.  I'm sure you've read all about that in your journals."

"Yes, quite," Giles agreed.  He had read about that on many occasions, but had never thought to consider what it would mean when it came to Willow.  It was rather fascinating, actually.  He would have to note it down in the journal, stressing the fact that it was apparently something that was multi-generational.

"Well lately I've been having this feeling, and whenever I concentrate on it, I feel... confusion, sorrow, anger, and other feelings I can't exactly describe.  If there's a chance that Spike might have sired someone, if the implant has malfunctioned, then I thought you deserved any advance warning I could give you."

Giles made his way slowly across the room, sitting down heavily on the couch and making himself comfortable.  Or at least as comfortable as he could be, clad only in a towel.

"Angel, there's something I need to tell you, I suppose.  I should apologize.  I had no idea that you would be aware of this, that the-well, the sire-childe bond would be so strong."

"What is it, Giles?  Has Spike done something?"

"Yes he has, actually.  It's Willow-" he started, cut off in mid-sentence by the suddenly irate vampire.

"He attacked Willow?  That-damn it-he is dead!  I will kill him myself.  And this time he'll STAY dead."

"But you don't understand-" Giles began, before realizing he was speaking into a dead phone.  Angel had hung up on him!

Perhaps he had just lost the connection.  That must be it, he thought, as he waited for the phone to ring again.  Surely Angel would call him back and allow him to explain the circumstances of Willow's turning.  But the silence continued, and after a couple of minutes Giles realized that he was not going to receive a call back.

Visions of Angel, driving hell bent for leather from L.A. to Sunnydale, a stake with Spike's name on it clutched firmly in his hand, spurred Giles to action.  Using a trick that Buffy had taught him, he dialed *69 on his phone, and listened silently as the phone rang two, three, four times.  Eventually Angel's voicemail picked up, and Giles left a message for the vampire to call him immediately.

He suspected, however, that Angel and his phone were in two different places.  One of them was probably sitting neatly in a phone charger in Angel's office, while the other was headed to Sunnydale.  With no other choice, Giles dialed information for Los Angeles and before long he was connected to the offices of Angel Investigations.

"Cordelia?" he asked of the perky voice that answered.

"Yeah.  Um, Giles?  Is that you?"

"Yes, it is.  I need to talk to Angel.  It's rather urgent, I'm afraid."

"You're out of luck on that one," she said cheerfully.  "He just ran out of his office like he was on fire, yelled that he had to go to Sunnydale, and ran down to the garage.  That was a couple of minutes ago.  I bet by now he's halfway there, the way he drives when he's in a hurry.  He's a lunatic on the road, I'll tell you.  It's not safe to be in a car with him-"

"Cordelia!" Giles yelled, gratified when her mindless babbling stopped.  "How can Angel be outside and on the road when it's still fairly light out?"

"Oh, he's got those special tinted windows.  There's a guy here who does them for cheap.  Just don't mention his ex-girlfriend; he's still a little bitter about the break-up.  Angel learned that the hard way."

"Cordelia," Giles growled.

"Well, as I was saying," she drawled, "We've got this underground garage, so he can get into the car there, and then he's got the windows for when he's on the road.  As long as he doesn't do something stupid like open the windows or get out of the car for any reason, he's okay.  And I'm sure that by the time he gets to Sunnydale it'll be pretty dark, so he'll be fine on that end."

'When he gets to Sunnydale,' Giles repeated the words to himself uneasily.  Would he come straight to see the Watcher, or would he be able to find Spike on his own, using the bond they shared?

"What the heck is going on over there anyway?" Cordelia asked, finally clueing in that there was something out-of-the-ordinary going on.

"It's a very long story," Giles replied, determined not to go into it over the phone with Cordelia.  "Just please have Angel call me if you hear from him.  It's quite vital; perhaps even a matter of life and death."

"Drama much?" Cordelia snapped, annoyed that he would not take the time to appease her curiosity.  "Fine then, I'll tell him," she said, hanging up before Giles could say anything further.

Giles ran a weary hand through his hair.  He really did not want to make this next call, but he could see no way around it, so he dialed the number for Spike's cell phone, wondering not for the first time why he couldn't have just stayed in England.  Things in America were always so... complicated.

"Yeah?"  Apparently the vampire had been asleep, and Giles took a bit of satisfaction in knowing that this time he had woken Spike up, instead of the other way around.

"Spike? There's been a bit of a complication," he said slowly, unsure how to break the news gently.

"What's that?"

"Well, you see, Angel called.  Seems he could sense that you made a childe.  Before I could tell him the circumstances, he hung up the phone and at this very moment he's heading in our direction."

"Well that's just bloody marvelous," Spike snarled, suddenly sounding completely awake.  "Wondered how long it would take the poof to figure it out.  Sounds like it didn't take long at all.  So, what, he thinks I turned her just because, and doesn't know she has the soul?"

Giles took a moment to marvel at Spike's ability to sum up the situation so quickly, and then replied.  "Yes, that about covers it.  He is heading to Sunnydale as we speak."

"Figures.  Fine, I'll take care of him if he shows up here.  If you see him first, for fuck's sake, tell him about the soul and all that other rot.  A homicidal sire is absolutely the last thing I need right now."

"Yes, of course," Giles confirmed.  "I just wanted you to be prepared, in case you run into him before I do.  I'm not sure exactly how the bond works, and if he can sense your location when he's that close to you."

"Yeah, he can probably figure it out, if he stops and concentrates.  Angelus always could.  Not sure if the soul interferes or not.  I'll have to talk to Willow about it and see if she can feel it."

"Very well, then.  Oh, and on another note, if you could come by my place in a couple of hours; say six-thirty?  We could go over to your new place and have that little housewarming party.  The children are rather eager to see Willow.  Do you-how do you think she'll react?" he asked uneasily.

"She'll be on her best behavior," Spike growled.  'Even if I have to beat her ass to get her to play nice,' he added to himself.

"Good, I'm glad to hear that.  I have to admit that I'm a bit nervous; so much is riding on this first meeting."

"Yeah, well, she'll be there, and she won't threaten to eat anybody.  Beyond that, I really can't promise much."

"I understand."

"Later," the vampire said, and then hung up.

'Good heavens, doesn't anybody say good-bye anymore?' Giles wondered as he hung up his phone.

Part 12


"You heard most of that?" Spike asked the woman lying next to him.

She opened her eyes slowly, pushing her hands down on the bed to bring herself into a sitting position, her back flush against the headboard.  "Not really," she admitted.  Her thoughts had been elsewhere.  She had been pondering her existence then, compared to her existence now, and all that had happened in the space between.  When Spike had received his phone call, she had pretty much tuned the conversation out.  Certainly she had not expected it to pertain to her in any way.

Apparently it had.

She looked down at him, taking in the slight hint of uncertainty around his eyes.  Spike not looking cocky and sure of himself?  This might be something serious.

"What happened?   Who was it?"

"The Watcher.  Seems my bloody sire figured it out, about you, and now he's driving like a madman to dispense his particular brand of justice."  Spike's lips curled into something halfway between a frown and a sneer.  Willow concentrated on his lips, fascinated with their expressiveness.

"But-how did he know?  About me, I mean?  And why is it such a big, bad thing?  And why does he even care?"  The questions tumbled ceaselessly from her lips.  Spike shook his head as if shaking off vertigo, wondering which one to answer first.

"It matters because he doesn't know about the soul.  Apparently the Watcher told him that I'd made a childe and he of course jumped to the worst possible conclusion-that the chip was broken and I was out roaming the streets for kills again.  Figures he'd fuck that one up.  So what do you think he'll do when he gets here?" Spike was starting to get agitated.  Willow could see the muscles in his jaw jump about as he clenched his teeth.

"Um, talk it out?" she asked without much conviction.  Neither of them held out much hope for that outcome.

"Well," he answered laconically, "He might talk a bit to Buffy-AFTER HE STAKES ME.  No, I'm thinking it'll be more along the line of stake now, talk later.  Or stake now, play with the ashes later."

Willow cast a glance at him, wondering if Spike was right.  Would Angel really do something that drastic? And if he would, what would he do to her?

Spike saw the question before she had a chance to ask it.  "Oh, don't worry my sweet childe," he murmured sarcastically.  "I'm sure he'll stake you too."

Her head jerked around to look at him, his words surprising her. 

He gazed back at her, a smirk playing along his lips.  "What, you don't think you're immune or something, do you?  That he'll let you live for old times' sake?  Get real!"

"But," her lower lip quivered a bit, and he resisted the urge to reach out and touch it with his index finger, "But I'm not evil.  I've got a soul-and-and all that stuff!"

"Ah, but he doesn't know that, remember?" Spike reminded her, watching the uncertainty build in her eyes.  He knew that she didn't want to depend on him; hated to, in fact.  But he also enjoyed the process of bringing her to heel, forcing her to learn to trust him.  Because when it came right down to it, he was really all she had.

Willow lowered her head, her hair becoming a barrier behind which she hid her thoughts.  A slight hint of blood reached his nostrils, and he knew she was nibbling on her lower lip again. 

"How did he know?" she asked again.  "I mean, how did he know that you turned me?"

Tired of craning his neck up to look at her, Spike finally gave in and pulled himself up to sit next to her.  He grabbed at the pack of cigarettes next to him on the nightstand and withdrew one, taking a match from the book on the nightstand and striking it against the back of the package. 

"He didn't know that it was you I had turned," he explained, blowing a billowing stream of smoke from his mouth.  They both watched it swirl lazily before dissipating altogether.  "He just knew that I'd turned someone.  Must've felt it through the bond.  The Watcher was the one who on-so-helpfully clued him in on the fact that it was you," he added sarcastically.  "Have to thank him for that later."

Willow frowned, trying to fill in the blanks in her mind.  "So Giles tells him that you turned me-"

"At which point my loving sire goes completely ape-shit," he finished.  "Moron hangs up on ol' Rupes before he can explain the circumstances, and by the time the cheerleader can be contacted for an explanation, Angel's already got a fifteen-minute start to Sunnydale."

"But, sunshine!" Willow reminded him.

"Underground parking," he countered.  "Probably special tinted windows too.  Heard of a guy in L.A. that does 'em."

"So what is this bond?  How come he can feel me, but I can't feel him?  Or you?"

He turned to frown at her, his eyes narrowing almost accusingly.  "What do you mean, you don't feel me?"  He thought for a minute, his lower lip jutting out slightly.  "Maybe it's the soul interfering.  Damn."

"How is it supposed to work?" she asked hesitantly.  "Maybe I just don't know how it works so I'm not doing it right?"

Spike considered that for a moment, his eyes following another puff of smoke as he released it into the air.  "Could be.  Maybe the soul just makes it more difficult.  After all, the poof was able to sense you."

Willow closed her eyes and sat silently for a couple of minutes, her body still, and her face blank.  She tried to shut off her other senses one by one.  Finally, she was alone in her body, all extraneous sounds, thoughts and emotions gone from her consciousness.

There.  Pushed back into the corner of her mind was something so small, so hard to see.  She concentrated her energy on it, willing it to life, and it flared open, flooding her with emotions and sensations that she knew were not her own.  Concern, anger, possessiveness, boredom, and confusion trailed through her, before being abruptly terminated.

Willow's eyes flew open, turning to stare at Spike with surprise and wonderment in her eyes.  "That was you?  That was so-cool," she breathed softly.

"That was me," Spike agreed.  "Now try for Angel."

She closed her eyes again, searching her mind for the place where she had found the link to Spike.  She searched the space meticulously, looking for something she could attribute to Angel.  Finally, after she had almost given up, she saw the tiniest glimmer, so very dull and far away.  Bringing all her energy to it, she pried at it and nudged it, and finally it opened a bit, hesitantly, allowing her a brief glimpse inside before the lid slammed shut on it.  An aftertaste of sorrow and bitterness lingered in her mouth, and she sighed regretfully.

"I think that was him.  All sad and bitter and broody."

"Yeah, that was Angel.  He must've been curious about you to have let you get that much."

The sat in silence, Spike pondering what he could never have again with his sire, while Willow thought about how difficult it would be to survive with such sorrow and not be tempted to give up living with the soul.

Spike turned his head and eyed her thoughtfully, deciding that this would be a good time to bring up how he expected her to behave with the others tonight.

"So I made some promises to the Watcher today.  About your behavior tonight."

"My behavior?" she asked quietly, confused.  "Do I have to do something special?"

"Just don't threaten to eat anybody, okay?" he requested.  He had a good thing going and he didn't want her random acts of weirdness to ruin it for him.

"Why would I do that?  They're my friends; I don't want to eat them!" she replied hotly, becoming agitated.   

"Sometimes you get a little…hyper, I suppose we could call it.  Headstrong, maybe?  Argumentative?" he reminded her, watching her eyes glitter with anger.

"The only time I argue with you is when-" and she stopped there, clamping her mouth shut.  'Is when you're being stupid,' she wanted to finish.  But she was going to play the game by his rules, she reminded herself.  And part of that was not arguing, even when he said something colossally stupid and insulting.   So instead of finishing her sentence, she merely stared back at him, smashing her anger down and wiping it from her eyes.

Spike smirked at her, knowing the internal battle she was waging to keep her mouth shut.  He had to admit that she was doing a pretty decent job of it.  "Just remember, the calmer and more in control you are, the less reservations they'll have about you.  And the less reservations they have, the sooner life will reach some semblance of normality for you."

He stood up, stretching the muscles in his naked body in an attempt to shake the last lethargy of sleep from his body.  Willow glanced at him, and then pulled her eyes away, staring down at the foot of the bed in an attempt to ignore his nakedness. 

Eventually curiosity got the better of her, and let her eyes drift towards him again.  This time she stared at him boldly, appraisingly.  She was a vampire; she was allowed to do that, right?  They were all into that amoral sex thing.  It was like a birthright or something.

He stood in profile, his arms stretched high over his head.  Long lean legs with muscular calves led to strong thighs, leading to-her eyes skipped past that for now, moving up to admire his flat abdomen and impressive abs.  Shoulders that she knew from experience were hard and yet strangely soft led to a pale, long neck.  Her demon battled her for control as she remembered how it had felt to have her teeth deep inside his neck, rich sire's blood filling her mouth and dripping thickly down her throat.  A soft growl broke the silence, and Spike turned to smile at her, amusement tugging the corners of his lips upward.

"Hungry?" he asked teasingly, his eyes gentle.  He had felt her eyes on him, measuring him, exploring him.  It was natural, something to be expected.

When she nodded eagerly, he came back to sit next to her on the bed again.  This time he made no attempt to cover himself with a sheet or bedspread, however, and Willow was slightly discomfited by the sight of his semi-erect cock, so close to her.  Images of her last night alive threatened to overwhelm her, but she fought hard to push them away and maintain control.  She could do this; she would not let thoughts of that night punish her forever.

He saw that she was fighting for control, and it took him a moment to figure out why.   The twin scents of her fear and embarrassment were heavy in the air.  Neither surprised him particularly, once he took a moment to think about it. 

Nudity meant nothing to him; when alone he rarely wore clothes.  But because of the things that had happened to her recently, he realized that she was still adjusting to that, along with so many other things.  Still, she needed to get used to it.  He was not going to change his lifestyle to suit her or her soul.

He watched with approval and a small bit of pride as she got herself under control, choosing to ignore his nakedness as she turned to face him, her chin resting gently on his shoulder.  Her tongue peeked out from between red full lips, and he felt the rough texture of it licking a short path along his neck.  Then her face turned, and she struck, her fangs sliding smoothly beneath the surface of his skin.

They both moaned, and he felt his cock harden.  The sound of her voice, the feel of her fangs and lips as they worked his skin, her delicate hands as they clamped hard onto his shoulder, the scent of both their arousal in the air; all of these combined to make his cock surge to attention.  He waited uncomfortably as she finished feeding, nearly groaning with relief as she finally released him, her tongue swirling around to catch any drops of blood she might have missed.  Unlike Dru, she was a very neat eater; almost dainty.  Looking relaxed and pleased with herself, she leaned back against the headboard, eyes closed.

"Wow," she whispered quietly.  "That's really, really…fun," she finished, a satisfied smile settling on her lips.

Spike looked down at his raging hard-on, thinking that 'fun' wouldn't exactly be the word he would choose.  Bloody fucking unsatisfying might be a little closer to describing the level of intense sexual frustration he was experiencing at that moment.  Soon, he reminded himself.  Soon.

"Time to get ready to meet your little friends," he grunted finally, wondering how he was going to deflate himself enough to get his cock into his pants.

Chapter 13

Willow and Spike stood at the door to the Watcher's apartment.  The redhead fidgeted, her motions jerky and nervous, as she stared blankly at the door before them.  Spike stood silently behind her for a moment, before he impatiently reached around her to rap sharply on the door.

The door opened, Giles' uneasy countenance appearing before them.  He took a look at the two vampires, giving Spike a cursory glance before concentrating his attention on Willow.

His eyes catalogued the pale skin, even paler than in life, along with the unnatural sparkling in her green eyes and the change in her posture.  He couldn't place a finger on it, but there was something undeniably different in the way that she presented herself now.  It was…bolder?  Yet at the same time it was quieter, as if to say 'I'm here, but I could disappear at any moment if I really wanted to.'  Shaking his head at the fanciful notion, he motioned them in.

Willow stood still, reaching a hand out to caress the invisible barrier in front of her.  It felt flat and yet it gave slightly, as if she were touching a pane of permeable glass.  "Cool," she breathed softly, her voice curious.

"Oh, please come in.  I do apologize; how thoughtless of me," Giles murmured, embarrassed at how easily he had forgotten that basic rule of vampire etiquette.

Willow frowned slightly as the sensation under her hand dissipated, and then walked slowly into the apartment.  It felt somehow smaller than the last time she had been there.  Or maybe she felt bigger; she wasn't really sure.  Her eyes roamed the room, looking for the others she was to meet tonight.

Giles noticed her actions.  "You are the first to arrive," he confirmed, unable to take his eyes off of her.

Spike pushed her inside, jostling Giles slightly as he led her into the living room.  "Sit," he told her, pointing to a spot on the couch.

Willow eyed him mutinously, her ire quickly kindling.  She thought about reminding him that she was *not* some sort of pet he could order around, but then remembered the talk they had had earlier about control, and decided to bite her tongue for now and do as he asked.  She sat demurely on the sofa and folded her hands in her lap, the very picture of a proper young lady.

Giles watched the entire episode avidly, his curiosity evident.  Spike watched the Watcher as he watched Willow, seeming greatly amused by the complicated dance they were performing.

"You got that money you promised?" Spike asked casually, smiling as the flustered human hurriedly brought out his wallet and counted ten twenty-dollar bills into his hand.

"That should help you for a bit, until we can figure out some other arrangement."

Spike nodded, counting the money and then tucking it into a back pocket.  More than he had asked for.  He might actually get used to living like this.

Willow was surprised; she had been unaware that her well-being was part of a financial transaction for Spike, and the thought bothered her.  She knew that Giles did not have unlimited funds.  Maybe she could get a job, something she could do from home by computer, so that she could help pay her own way.  As soon as they moved into the new place she would start looking, she decided.

The sound of knocking disrupted Willow's thoughts.   As Spike sat down on the couch next to her, Giles hastened to open the door, admitting Buffy, Xander and Anya.  The three moved into the living room slowly, as if unsure of themselves or their situation.

Willow stood up quickly and turned towards the door, her demon screaming at her, reacting to the new arrivals in a way that it hadn't when it had met Giles for the first time.  She took an involuntary step backwards, the back of her leg hitting hard against the side of the coffee table, rattling the glass top, the sound loud in the suddenly quiet room.

Buffy was the first to say something, taking in the redhead's reaction and moving slowly, coming to stand deliberately in front of Willow, but far enough away to not seem threatening.  "Hi, Wills," she said softly, her voice gentle and friendly. 

Something inside Willow snapped, and her soul lunged for control, flinging the demon aside.  An uncertain smile came to her lips as her eyes locked onto those of her friend.  "Hi," she answered back shakily, her eyes sweeping the room to take in the positions of the others in the room.

"I'm sorry," she said sadly.  "I don't mean to be like this, it's just…"  She stopped, unable to find a way to say the words that didn't sound cruel.  Somehow she felt certain that the phrase, 'I'm afraid to hug you because I might lose control and accidentally sink my teeth into your neck,' would not inspire confidence in her friends.

"You're doing okay, pet," Spike encouraged solemnly, pulling her back down to sit next to him on the couch, slinging an arm casually around her shoulder.  Her earlier anger towards him was gone, and she moved closer to him, the uncertainty about her situation driving her to him for physical comfort.

"What she's trying so hard not to say," he told them, as the others filed into the room, careful to sit in places that would not crowd her, "Is that the demon is reacting badly to Buffy."  He stopped for a moment to look at her, watching her nibble on her lower lip, as she often seemed to do when she was worried.  "That was it, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," she agreed quietly.  "I-it-well, it's like I constantly have to fight it.  And I don't want to hurt you guys," she added seriously, tears threatening to form in her eyes.  "So maybe it's better if we just don't get too touchy-feely, at least not yet?"  Her chin tilted up and she forced her eyes to clear, drawing on a well of inner strength that seemed to show up when she needed it most.

Four sets of solemn eyes greeted her, and although there were large amounts of uncertainty in them, love and acceptance were there as well, and she couldn't help but smile at them.

The moment was shattered by the sound of frenzied pounding at the front door.  They all froze, and it would have been comical if Spike hadn't known exactly who was on the other side of the door.

A moment later, the loud voice of his sire joined the pounding, and Spike couldn't help but smile a little at the looks on the others faces when they heard Angel's voice.

"Rupert, let me in.  We need to talk about Spike. I won't let him get away with this!"

Buffy looked positively stunned to hear the voice of her former lover.  Then she looked down at her clothes and got a slightly panicked look in her eye, as if thinking to herself that if he shad known he was going to be there, she would have dressed better.

Xander looked confused.  He needed to direct his hatred and anger at somebody, and years of history made him want to direct it at Angel.  But under these circumstances, Angel actually seemed to be agreeing with his line of thinking:  death to Spike.  Making up his mind that it was best to cover all bases, he shot an annoyed look at Spike, and then focused his hate filled gaze on the front door.

Anya, who sat curiously at Xander's side on the faded loveseat, kept her eyes and ears open, always amazed at the situations these humans managed to get themselves into.

Giles, who was grateful that they were all together now so that this issue could be explained once and then dropped, merely rolled his eyes at Angel's rather melodramatic attempt at an entrance, and walked evenly to the door.  He opened it calmly, looked into Angel's angry face, and stood his ground.

"Angel, as soon as you promise to hear me out and not interrupt, or hurt anyone, or jump to any conclusions, I will give you what you want.  An invitation, that is."  He had worded his greeting with particular care, so that there would be no misunderstandings.

The dark vampire merely looked back at him and blinked, rather confused by the welcome he had received.  He took a moment to breathe deeply, his demon identifying the scents of four humans and the two demons easily enough.  What were they all doing there together, at what seemed to be an amicable, social occasion?

Looking at the expectant human standing before him, Angel realized that the man was waiting patiently for an answer.  Although he was still quite confused at the reception he had received, Angel definitely wanted to find out what the hell was going on here.

"You have my word, Giles.  I won't stake anybody until I hear what you have to say," he agreed, his voice low and angry.  He hated it when he didn't know everything that was going on; it made him feel like he was trying to solve a puzzle without all of the pieces.

Willow heard the words 'won't stake anybody' and realized uneasily that it wasn't just Spike he was threatening.  He considered her the enemy as well, and the thought made her sad.  Then again, he didn’t know about the soul yet, so it wasn't completely his fault.

Maybe she was the person who should set this right?  She stood, crossing the room to stand beside Giles at the door.  He looked tired and worried, judging by the lines on his face.  Suddenly she felt guilty that she and Spike were the ones who had put those lines there. She placed her hand lightly on his arm, hoping her touch would help to calm and reassure him.

"Fine, then you can come in," Giles said a little grumpily.  "As long as you promise to hear us out."

"Yes, please come in, Angel," she added, standing tall and calm, not a hint of the demon showing in her face or her demeanor.  "Giles needs to explain things to you, and you might as well be comfortable."

Angel stared at Willow in surprise, noting almost unconsciously the physical changes that had taken place in her.  She was beautiful in her own shy way, he noted wryly, and wondered why he had never noticed it before.  Or maybe the demon had just instilled a bit of self-confidence in her that made her stand taller, and meet his gaze unflinchingly, which allowed him to notice things about her that he never had before.

When the stunned vampire continued to stare at her without setting foot inside the apartment, Willow finally took the initiative to pull him in and shut the door behind him.  She led him to a chair not far from the couch that she and Spike occupied, watching him seat himself before returning to sit down next to Spike.

"I'm not evil," she told him solemnly, needing him to understand that right away.  "I've got a soul."

Angel nodded slowly, having already realized as much the moment he saw her.  The creature that looked back at him from behind those shining green eyes had the same soul as the girl he used to know, and he had felt weak with relief when he came to that conclusion. 

"But…" he trailed off, not sure which question to ask first. There were just so many of them crowding his mind.  A hand came up to rub his forehead, as if to dispel the confusion that surrounded him.

Willow looked to Giles, "Can you tell it?" she asked quietly, sounding suddenly like a nervous little girl.  "I don't like to talk about it yet, and if you tell it, it's like it didn't happen to me."

Giles, still standing in the middle of the room, gave her a small nod of acquiescence.  Pulling a simple, high-back wooden chair from the dining room, he faced it to the assembled group and sat down, stretching his long legs out and crossing them at the ankles.

"There's really not much story to tell," he began, smiling at the incredulous look on Angel's face.  "Well really there isn't," he insisted.  Shooting one last look at Willow, who was sitting stock-still against Spike, her eyes shut tight, he gave Angel an abbreviated version of what had happened.

Part 14

Angel sat forward with his elbows on his knees; classic thinking pose.  He absorbed Giles' tale with a minimum of interruptions, although he did take the time to shoot Spike several dark venomous looks, which the blond refused to acknowledge.  As the story came to an end, Angel's eyes focused on Willow.

"I'm sorry Willow," he offered softly, watching as her eyes opened and a sad smile settled on her face. 

"Not your fault," she countered.  "It happened, and Giles and Spike did what they did, and now I've got the rest of my life to figure out."  She said the words with a bravado that the others admired.  Only Spike knew what the effort cost her, as he could feel her shaking slightly against him.

"Do you have any idea who did it?" Buffy asked, trying to keep her voice even and casual.  She wanted answers, wanted someone to blame, but she didn't want to seem obvious about it.

"I-no, I don't know," Willow hesitated for the briefest of moments before answering.  She thought about answering the question honestly and telling Buffy that members of the Initiative had raped her.  But something inside her stopped the words as they formed.  Buffy might be a Slayer, but she was still human.  She couldn't touch the Initiative.  And when Willow went after them, as she knew that someday she would, she didn't want to be hampered by Buffy's thoughts and human ideas of right and wrong.

So she lied to them all. 

Spike knew, of course.  He hid it well though, merely shooting a casual glance at her, the look disguised as something entirely different.

And she suspected Angel knew as well.  He had watched her face as she answered the question, and had certainly noticed the silent communication that passed between sire and childe.

But the others had no idea.

"So Spike, you finally made yourself a childe, did you?"  His tone was faintly mocking, curious to see what Spike's reaction would be.

Spike shot him a look of pure venom.  He was feeling protective of her; that much was obvious.  It was good, but unexpected.  Spike had always been too selfish to make a childe in the past.  Angel wondered what had changed.

"Don't worry, *Angelus*," he said contemptuously.  "I'm not the same type of hands-on sire you were," Spike answered back, and Angel flinched at the words.  Memories flooded his mind.  The things he had done to Spike, had made Spike do, crowded around him.  For a moment the room was empty except for the two of them, as they both remembered how it had been.

"If you ever-" Angel began, the threat dying unfinished on his lips.

"Not gonna hurt her," he growled, glaring at his sire.  He tightened the arm slung around the redhead's shoulder, a gesture of ownership and possessiveness that the others didn't understand and therefore didn't notice.  But Angel saw it, and he growled low in his throat.

Willow's eyes tracked the faces of her friends.  Buffy and Xander looked confused, while Anya merely looked curious.  Giles caught the desperation in her eyes, and provided a badly needed distraction.

Clearing his throat and taking a step back as all eyes in the room seemed to center onto him, he settled his gaze on Willow.  "Did you want to go see your new home now?" he asked.

"Please?" Willow agreed softly, hoping that a change of pace would put an end to the vampire posturing.  She wasn't sure exactly what was going on, but could probably guess.  The two male vampires were engaged in some sort of age-old grudge match, and it didn't look like either of them were going to give it a rest anytime soon.

"C'mon, Spike," she called softly, placing her hand on his arm in an attempt to tear his eyes away from his sire.

He gave her a casual glance, and then the cocky vampire she was beginning to know was looking at her again, his battle with Angel seemingly forgotten.

Buffy came around to look at Angel, her gaze fond yet tortured.  They hadn't seen each other in quite some time, and she hoped to make the most of this unexpected visit.  "Ride with me Angel?" she asked hopefully, her eyes filling with sadness as he slowly shook his head.

"I need to talk to them.  Find out if everything is really okay.  It's…important."

She could see that it *was* important, and not merely an excuse to stay away from her, so she let him go, trailing behind as they filed out of the apartment.

They drove in a caravan, Buffy leading the way, still in her mother's borrowed SUV, followed by Giles in his ancient Citroen.  Anya and Xander were next, in Xander's old pickup, the faint sound of rock music slipping out from the crack of Anya's open window.  And bringing up the rear were the vampires, Angel unwittingly playing chauffeur to Spike and Willow, who sat comfortably in back of his large, black convertible.

Spike had always enjoyed this car, thought it was rather comfortable and enjoyed being able to stretch out his long legs.  He'd never give his sire the satisfaction of hearing him say it aloud, of course.  And what vampire in his right mind would buy a convertible anyway, he wondered.  That was almost asking for trouble.  But the rest of it was all right in his book.

His gaze wandered to his childe sitting next to him.  She had closed her eyes, a look of intense satisfaction on her face.  As he watched, she arched her back slightly, and released the hair that had been trapped between her shoulder blades and the car seat, and let it float free in the passing breeze.  She seemed to be letting herself relax at last, now that the drama of the initial meeting was over.

"You did a good job there, Red," he whispered into her ear.  The small smile that curved the corners of her lips assured him that she had heard his words.  "I know it wasn't easy for you, keeping the demon under control, but you did it."

"I had a little help," she acknowledged.  "Thanks, Spike.  You made things easier than they might have been."

He merely nodded back at her, acknowledging her gratitude but not wanting to make a big deal of it.

"You have incredible control," Angel said quietly from the front seat, his eyes still set on the road.  "It took me years before I could quell the demon, but you seem to be able to do it almost easily."

The unsolicited praise surprised her.  "It wasn't as easy as it looked," she admitted, her eyes staring at the rear view mirror as if she could actually see his reflection in it.  "My control was kind of tenuous," she said uneasily.  "I'm glad we drove together.  The thought of being in a tiny car with all of those heartbeats and the sound of the blood rushing beneath the thin skin…" her voice trailed off, and she closed her eyes for a minute, flashing a bit of fang before the soul took control again.

"Willow, it took almost a year before I could be around humans and keep the demon at bay.  When my soul was as new as yours was, I could never have stood in a room with all of those people.  I would have run as fast and as far as I could, the demon fighting me every step of the way, literally and figuratively.  What you've managed to accomplish so quickly is nothing short of amazing."

She glowed at the praise, extra special because it was coming from her grandsire.  Regardless of how Spike felt about Angel, she felt a bond to him that she had never felt before.  Must be the call of family, coupled with the fact that they both had souls, which made her feel so comfortable with him.

Angel watched the road diligently, but his mind was elsewhere.  He thought about all of the things that the young woman had yet to experience.  The soul was a must if she was to have any kind of a 'normal' life, but there were situations when it could be just as much of a negative as a positive.

She would have the soul while she watched her friends grow old and die.  Angel had been there himself.  He had watched as those he knew had suffered and finally died.  But without the soul, he hadn't cared a whit.  Now, for both him and Willow, it would be different.  Although he knew that Spike could care less about these people, saw them merely as a means to an end, Angel had respect, and a certain fondness, for the rag-tag team of misfits who came together now and again to save those who would never know or ever thank them.

The fact that she had lied to them earlier gnawed at him, and he hoped that she would trust him enough to be honest with him now that the others were not around. 

"Why did you lie to them earlier?" he asked, timing his question so that he was able to look back at her, catching the troubled glance that passed between her and her sire.

Silence greeted him, and he couldn't help but sigh.  "Willow, I'm not judging.  I just want to know-"

"You just want to know something that is none of your bloody business," Spike growled, the golden glints in his eyes shooting daggers into the back of Angel's neck.

"I just wanted to help, if I could," he explained to Willow, hoping the young vampire would accept his words and his help.

"Help?  That's a right funny idea," Spike jeered, smirking as he saw Angel's grip on the steering wheel tighten until the knuckles gleamed white.  "Somehow I didn't think revenge was your cup of tea these days."

Willow watched the argument between the two vampires with a decided lack of interest.  She had made her choice, and nothing would change that now.  Besides, she knew that the discussion going on around her had more to do with times gone by than the here and now. 

"There's the college," Willow called out excitedly, bouncing in her seat as they rolled past the campus, now fairly quiet after a long day of classes.  "I need to register for night classes soon, okay?" she asked Spike excitedly; the joy she took in learning was something that death had not changed.  "And hey, I bet I could play on a sports team now.  And be really good too, huh?  Could you see me?  Maybe playing baseball? I bet I could kick some serious ass!"

Spike looked at the animated expression on her face and bit back a laugh, his discussion with Angel forgotten for the moment.  His childe was winding herself up again, getting all excited about the myriad possibilities her life had to offer.  It was going to be fun watching her interact with her friends in a little bit.  They still expected her to be solid, dependable Willow, but bit-by-bit she was changing into someone else.  Should be an interesting show.

"Yeah, I could see you with the cap and the glove and everything, but even vampire reflexes won't help if your hand-eye coordination isn't good.  Maybe we can get the Watcher to get you a video game or something so you can practice."

She snorted and gave him an incredulous look.  "Video game?  Yeah right.  You just want Giles to buy the video game thingy so that you can play with it all the time.  I bet you'd never let me practice at all!"

Something else was bothering her; Spike could see it swimming behind her eyes, and he wondered how long it would take before she came out with it.

"I want a job," she declared determinedly, staring at him and challenging him to deny her this.  Well apparently it hadn't taken her that long to come out with it after all, he thought.

"Pet, you do remember that you'll turn to dust if you're hit by direct sunlight, don't you?  Little thing like that does make it difficult to hold down a 9 to 5, you know?"

"Duh," she shot back at him, matching his sarcasm with her own.  "Ever heard of a computer?  I could work from home, writing and debugging programs, and nobody would ever know that I had a severe sun allergy."

Angel listened to their exchange with amused tolerance.  She had seemed so quiet earlier, almost fragile.  But with just the two of them around her now, she had opened up and was showing strong streaks of independence and rebelliousness.  Spike was definitely going to have his work cut out for him, and the very thought of it brought a smile to the older vampire's lips.

Through the haze of decades gone past he remembered his Spike as a newly risen vampire.  Time had worn down the rough edges of the memories, helping him to remember more of the good times than the bad.  Apparently the opposite was true of Spike:  he seemed only to remember the bad things.

Spike had not been an easy childe to raise.  He had been willful, stubborn, and way too eager to attract all of the wrong types of attention.  From the looks of things, Willow had a lot of the same character traits.  The next couple of years should be quite the challenge, for both of them really.  Whether Spike would be able to tame her, or whether Willow would end up with Spike wrapped around her little pinky, still remained to be seen.

Buffy's car came to a stop in front of an ordinary brown duplex, the yard dotted with trees that would provide copious amounts of shade, even during the middle of the day.  At night, with the lights out, the place looked dark and lonely.  Willow refused to be deterred by that fact as she bounded excitedly from the back seat of Angel's car, not even waiting for him to come to a complete stop.

"Oh, wow, this is so cool!" she said eagerly, her eyes sparkling with excitement as they took in the building.  "Like the first day at school, when everything's brand new and thrilling.  And even though you know in a couple of weeks you'll be used to it and it won't be any big thing, it's still really exciting NOW."

Buffy's glance held equal parts surprise and mirth, and Giles fought back a smile of his own as he joined them.  "Would you like to see the inside?" he asked, finally losing the battle to keep from smiling as the redhead nodded her head up and down as if it was on springs.

Giles took the key out of his pocket and unlocked the door, walking inside.  "Please come in," he said, welcoming Willow and Spike into their new home.




Part 15

Anya gave them a portable CD player as her own personal housewarming gift, and soft jazz floated through the home, a quiet backdrop to the conversations taking place.

Willow was upstairs with Buffy and Anya.  Her eyes got big with excitement as she took in all of the touches from her old life.  The pictures of friends and happier times sat next to books on Wicca and spell ingredients.  And then she saw her laptop and began to babble so quickly and joyously that the two women with her were afraid that she might spontaneously combust.

Her earlier nervousness at being able to keep her control had slowly faded as she spent more time with her friends.  Having them talk to her, surrounding her with reminders of who they were and how they fit into her life, made the demon fade quietly away for a while, and Willow took advantage of the time to try to relax and renew her friendships.

"So, how is Spike?  You know, in bed?" Anya asked curiously, having waited until Buffy went to the bathroom to mount her sneak attack. 

"Anya!" Willow squealed, startled and embarrassed by the question.  She plopped down on the bed, hands moving together restlessly as she tried not to think about what Anya had just said.  The other woman sat down next to her, a sharp gleam in her eye.  Like any other predator, she sensed weakness and went for the kill.

"What?  You're a demon now, right?  And demons, they're good with the sex.  Believe me, I've seen it."  She gave Willow a knowing look.  "The things I could tell you," she insisted, thankfully letting the sentence trail off after that.

"Spike and I-it's not like that," she explained, her demon rousing a bit at the thought of her sire and sex.  And what was taking Buffy so long in the bathroom?  Willow was certain that Anya would not have posed such a question if anyone else had been around.

"Have you looked at his hands?" Anya asked, in what Willow thought was a rather odd change of subject.  "They're big.  You know what that means."

"Umm…it means he has to buy big gloves?" she ventured, uncertain where this conversation was going. 

"No!" hissed Anya, slapping Willow lightly on the arm in what she apparently thought was a friendly, 'we're all girls together' type of gesture.  "It means he's got a big penis!" she told the flabbergasted redhead.

Willow's eyes darted quickly around the room, making sure that nobody else was there.  Her face was shocked, and if she hadn't been a vampire, it probably would have been beet red. 

"My Xander has big hands," Anya proclaimed smugly.

Willow was saved from having to deal with that disturbing mental image by Buffy's return from the bathroom.  "So what did I miss?" she asked curiously, taking in Anya's smug smile and Willow's trapped and embarrassed look.  A sudden horrifying thought struck her.  "Anya!  You didn't?!"

"What?" Anya asked innocently, her eyes wide and guileless.  There had been a reason she had waited for Buffy to leave the room before talking to Willow.

"God, Anya.  They're not sleeping together!" Buffy exclaimed heatedly.  Anya had mentioned this before, but Buffy had been able to extract a promise from her not to mention it.  Apparently the promise had meant more to Buffy than it had to Anya, if she had broken it that quickly.  Buffy gave a quick look at Willow, trying to gauge her mood.

"They may not be now, but they will sooner or later," Anya muttered, annoyed to have been caught.  She was right, damn it, and the rest of them were just too squeamish to admit it.  "I've told you, it's part of the sire-childe-"

The ex-demon's words were interrupted by Buffy, making a show of holding her hands over her ears and loudly repeating the mantra of "I can't hear you, I can't hear you, I can't hear you."

Willow wished she could block out her thoughts as easily as Buffy could drown out Anya's words.  She knew that Anya was correct:  a normal vampire sire and childe would sleep together as a matter of course.  Her demon expected it, and she was sure that Spike did too.  He had been cautious about the situation due to the circumstances of her turning, but sooner or later things would change.

The discussion downstairs wasn't going much better.  Angel and Spike had taken themselves off to the bathroom, where the older vampire hoped they could argue in relative privacy.  They faced each other warily in the confines of the cramped bathroom, less than three feet's space between them.  Angel lounged against the counter, seeming calm, although his angry eyes belied the evidence his face offered.

Spike plopped down uneasily on the closed cover of the toilet seat.  Might as well be comfortable, he figured, since he was certain to be given the tongue-lashing of the century from the broody bastard in front of him.

"I bet you just jumped at the chance, didn't you?" Angel's first volley didn't take Spike by surprise.  He had known it was coming; had even imagined the words that the pouf would use.  But all of his well-constructed defenses died on his lips now that he was faced with his angry sire. 

"It wasn't like that," he muttered darkly, his head bending down to concentrate on his chipped black fingernail polish.  He picked at the ragged edge of a hangnail as he tried to ignore his demon.  "She was dying, you bloody sod.  What was I supposed to do?  Just let it happen?"

"Yes," Angel hissed, "Yes. That's exactly what you should have done.  Let her die, like she was meant to."  Why couldn't his childe see that what he had done was cruel and wrong?

"Couldn't do it," Spike shot back, his head jerking up, soft brown and icy blue eyes meeting and locking.  He remembered what she had looked like-broken bones, hundreds of small cuts, the look of anguish on her face as she waited to die.  "You didn't see her," he insisted angrily.  "It was bad.  They didn’t just rape her, they broke her."

Angel stared at Spike incredulously. 

"What?" the blond asked, goaded by the look of skepticism his sire gave him.

Angel sighed, noting with surprise that Spike really didn't get it.  "You're getting all misty-eyed over what they did to her.  Yet I know you've done worse.  Hell, I've watched you do it.  Helped you, even."

"That was different," Spike argued, shooting to his feet, his hands clenched at his sides.

Anger sparked in Angel's eyes, his voice going low and dangerous.  "Different?  In what way was it different, Spike?  Please tell me, because I'd really like to know," the dark vampire insisted, sarcasm ringing in his voice.

"Remember that girl in Italy?" he asked, his eyes locked on Spike's, watching as his words hit home.  "The one with the dark hair and the stormy grey eyes?  Lucia?  Was that her name?"  He waited for the blond's nod.   "Remember how you beat her?  Until her back was a bloody mess, the blood so thick and slippery that we had to wipe down the floor afterwards so that we wouldn't slide and fall on our asses?  And then, when you tired of that, you fucked her and visited every sexual depravity on her that you could think of. But even then she just wouldn't die, would she?  Do you remember what you did to her next?"

Spike nodded silently, his face a blank as the memory of her screams echoed in his head.  The room was silent for a moment as they both remembered a time and place very different from this one.

"So what makes you think you can suddenly take the moral high road on this one?" Angel asked curiously. 

Spike was lost in thought, so deep that Angel wondered if he would even get an answer to his question. 

"She was mine to take.  Mine to kill," he replied sullenly.  "Mine.  Not theirs."

"So this was revenge against some faceless bastards that stole your kill?  That's pathetic," Angel sneered.  "You're no better than they are."

"But I'm a demon, mate," Spike reminded him, a bit of his usual cockiness seeping back into his voice.  "I'm supposed to be evil, do evil things.  Them?  They're humans.  Higher standards and all that."

Angel cocked his head to the side curiously as he considered his childe.  The certainty in his voice when he talked about 'them' was unexplained.  There was more to this story than what he'd heard so far.  But what?  "How do you know they're human, Spike?  What aren't you telling me?"

Spike shook his head angrily as he fought to control his stormy emotions. He contemplated his sire uncertainly.  There was a fight ahead, whether any of them knew it or not.  Willow wanted revenge; needed it really, in order to start a normal life.  And he wanted it too.  Those bastards that had stuck the chip in his head had to pay, and in his mind paying usually meant lots and lots of blood. 

As much as he hated to admit it, Spike knew that Angel could be a help in their fight, a useful ally.  Or he could be the wrench in the works, spilling their secret to Buffy and Giles, and making everything that much more difficult.  He just wished he knew where Angel's true loyalties would fall.

Angel suspected he knew the source of Spike's uneasiness.  "Blood will always prevail," he promised, watching understanding settle on the blond's face.  Resolve as well, apparently.

"It was the Initiative.  Same bastards that put this lovely piece of hardware in my head," he admitted at last, watching Angel for signs of betrayal.  He didn't trust the other demon, even though he longed to.  But his decision had been made; now all he could do was sit back and hope for the best.

Angel regarded him through narrowed eyes, searching the other vampire's face for lies or trickery.  "The same ones," he drawled thoughtfully.  His demon demanded he join in the fight, insisted they bring these bastards to their knees and then gut them like fish.  These so-called humans had almost destroyed his childe, and what they had done to Willow-his mind shied away from those thoughts. 

Every once in a rare while a situation came along that caused the demon and the soul to agree.  This was one of those instances.  Their reasons were different; the soul thought that what those soldiers were doing was cruel beyond tolerance and that they had to be stopped, while the demon just wanted revenge and a chance at a bloodbath.  But the conclusion was the same either way.

"When you're ready to move against them, I'll help."  He said the words without any special emphasis or emotion.  It was cold, calm statement of fact, nothing more.  The Initiative had messed with the wrong demons.  They would have to go.

Giles and Xander tried their best to ignore the questionable goings-on in the downstairs bathroom.  Occasional raised voices were punctuated by bone-shuddering growls that the two human men could not only hear, but feel as well, leaving them both oddly on edge.

Xander tried to fill the silence with meaningless small talk, but Giles, being Giles, didn't quite know how to reply to Xander's verbal volleys.  In the end, both humans sat and drank, Giles favoring whiskey while Xander concentrated on his Pepsi. 

They both looked up eagerly as they saw the three women traipse down the stairs.  Things must have gone well upstairs, Giles surmised, as everyone seemed to be smiling.  He noted a bit of tension behind Willow's eyes, but the situation was a new and exacting one, and he chocked his observation up to that fact.

His neck cracked as he stretched, his body tired from a rather long day that included more physical activity that he was used to.  Maybe it was time to say his good-byes and let the children reacquaint themselves.  Things seemed to be going fine with Willow, and he didn't see a reason to stick around any longer. 

"Willow," he said, watching as those intense green eyes came to rest on his face, "I'm feeling rather tired.  I think I will call it an evening.  Would you walk me to my car?"

Grateful to escape Anya's curious gaze, Willow quickly joined Giles outside, walking him to the battered old car.  "Thanks for everything," she said gratefully, looking up at the older man, who seemed to be at a loss for a response.

"I-I just want things to be good for you, Willow.  You deserve that much."

"Things are okay Giles," she assured him.  "Weird, but okay."

He hesitated a moment, his hand on the car's door handle.  "You're not-angry then?  With me?"

She considered the question, her eyes seeming as dark as the night that surrounded them.  "I was surprised," she allowed, hesitating briefly.  "I'm still not sure how this will work between Spike and I.  I'm trying to be good, but sometimes the demon just wants to test him.  See what the limits are.  I'm getting better at controlling it though," she confided proudly.

Giles tried to nod knowledgeably as he swallowed the lump of unease that had settled somewhere in his throat.  Intellectually he had known that these things were likely to happen, but to hear the redhead explain them so calmly and analytically just gave the whole conversation a surreal quality.

"I have faith in you," he said finally.  "And we'll be here to help you, every one of us.  Just call if you need anything, day or night.  And on that note, I will take my leave," he added, opening the car door and moving quickly inside. 

Willow watched as Giles drove away, the car spewing noxious fumes in its wake.  She knew she should probably go back inside, but instead she sat on the front doorstep, looking out into the night and thinking. 

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