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 16

Spike found her on the front doorstep, sitting quietly, elbows on her knees, face propped up in her hands.  He watched her silently for a moment before moving to sit next to her. 

"The Watcher take off then?" he asked, although he already knew the answer.  It was a way to start a conversation, that was all.

Willow turned towards him and nodded briefly, before looking back out at the road. 

"We need to talk about something," Spike said.  "This thing about you going back to school…"

"Yeah?" she asked uneasily, sensing an impending argument.  She really didn’t want to fight with him again, not here, not now, not with the others so close-by.  But if he kept pushing her, she could probably manage to do her part. 

"It's not a good idea-" he started.

"Damn it, I *knew* you were going to say that!" she replied angrily, lashing out with all of the pent-up fear and frustration the day had given her.  "You just can't stand that I want to do things by myself.  It's all about control, isn't it?  Isn't it!?  Well you can't control me.  I'm going to go back to school whether you want me to or not!"

Spike's eyes flashed amber and he stood quickly, hands at his sides, clenched into fists.  "Won't have a whole lot of fun at school if you're just a pile of dust," he sneered down at her.  "Have you thought about that?"

Willow jumped to her feet, her demon clamoring to be let free.  Her human face melted away until nothing but the demon remained, her eyes spitting yellow fire.  "Don't you dare threaten me," she hissed, and a soft growl emanated from somewhere inside her.

Spike looked incredulous, then laughed in her face.  "That little growl thing you did?  That was…cute.  Just really cute.  And you know what else?" he asked as he stalked towards her. 

For each step he took towards her, she took a faltering step backwards, until her back was pressed tightly against the side of the house.  Still he came at her, his steps calm and measured, the smile on his face cold and calculating.

"What?" she asked, her voice beginning to falter as her demon fled at the sight of an angry sire. 

"Not. At. All. Threatening."  He looked down at her and wondered how the hell he was going to teach her anything.  Pain was usually the weapon of choice with a fledgling, but that weapon was out of his reach.  Reasoning with her didn't seem to do much good either.  Maybe fear would work better.

"Now *this* is a threatening growl," he said, and growled from deep within his chest.  The sound and scent of his anger sent chills up and down her spine.  His hand shot up, curving around her neck and pressing it up and into the building behind her.  Her feet scrambled wildly for purchase as he jolted her further upwards.  Cutting off her air supply was no big deal since she no longer needed to breathe, but the fact that he could hold her immobile without any effort at all stung her pride. 

The pain and pressure on her throat shocked Willow.  Other than the time he had spanked her, Spike had never intentionally hurt her in anger.  Maybe this time she had pushed him a little farther than he was willing to be pushed.  Maybe this time she would pay the price.

He watched as realization dawned in her eyes:  he was in charge; she was not.  As he tightened his grip on her throat, a soft cry of dismay broke from her lips, and the twin scents of pain and arousal filled the air.

The arousal didn't surprise him much.  For vampires, pain and pleasure were inexorably linked.  It was simply a part of their nature.  Just as the smell of food would bring about salivation in a human, a little bit of pain would bring forth feelings of arousal from a demon.

Willow could smell the scents in the air and tried to figure out exactly what was going on.  She smelled something that reminded her of pain and misery, sweet and smooth and wanting.  But there was something else, and it confused her.  She sensed it coming from both of them, and although the smell was delicious and exciting, she wasn't sure exactly what it meant.

It hit her like the proverbial ton of bricks. Her eyes opened wide, the pupils shining in the moonlight.  "No!" she cried desperately, squirming frantically in an attempt to break away from him.  "No, no, no!"

"Yes," Spike whispered, bringing his face up close to hers until their lips were only an inch apart.  "Yes, yes, yes."

She fell under his spell, her body going still and her eyes focusing on his lips as they slowly moved closer to hers.  The hand that had moments ago held her neck in a punishing grip suddenly released her and set her feet back on the ground.  His hand began to caress her neck lightly, soft touches that left her knees weak and her mind blank.

We can't do this, something inside her screamed, trying to wrench her body away from his.  Her soul began to compile an emotionless, logical list of all the reasons why this was a mistake, but her body and demon were having none of that.

As abruptly as he had attacked her, he suddenly stopped his actions, taking two steps back and looking at her coolly.  "Now," he murmured, seemly unaffected by what had almost happened between them, "shall I tell you why I don't want you going back to school just yet?"

Willow stared dumbly at him for a moment before nodding weakly, her mind still tormented by thoughts and denials, embarrassed and horrified by what had almost happened.  It had only been a kiss, a voice inside of her tried to insist.  Well, almost a kiss.  But she knew that there was more to it than that, and wished she could just have some time to herself to analyze what had almost happened, and how she felt about it.  But Spike was still in front of her, challenging her, making her pay attention to him.  Thinking of that sort would have to wait for later.

Spike reached into his front pants pocket, taking out the battered package of cigarettes hidden there.  He selected one casually, bringing it to his lips as his hand went in search of his lighter. "You've gone to a great deal of trouble to keep the identity of your attackers from your little friends, right?" he asked, the words coming out slightly muffled due to the cigarette between his lips.

Another nod was her only reply, so he continued.  "Only reason I can think of for doing that is because you'd like a spot of revenge."

"Yes," the demon hissed eagerly.

"Your little mates wouldn't agree with your 'live and let die' philosophy, now would they?  That's why you haven't told them anything.  That's smart."

She cocked her head as she watched him curiously, waiting for him to continue.  The way that he always seemed to know how and why she did these things, when even she didn't really know and understand it herself, surprised her and made her slightly uneasy.  Was she so very obvious?

He prolonged the silence, releasing a stream of smoke into the air and watching it dissipate.  "Element of surprise is a big deal, you know?  Can give the advantage to one party, where it might otherwise have gone the other way."

Spike stopped, his eyes drawn to hers as he said the next words.  "Gonna be kind of hard to surprise them if they see you wandering around campus, the girl they killed a week ago."

Her eyes widened as the meaning of his words hit her, understanding dawning in bits and pieces.  THEY were on campus.  And what would they think if they saw her?  And when they came to the inevitable, inescapable conclusion, what would they do?  She didn't have to ponder that last question for long.  Two choices:  they'd either capture her, or kill her.  Neither sounded particularly appealing.  She'd been captured by them before; death would be preferable to the things they had done to her.  The thought of their hands on her body, their cocks rutting inside her, made her want to retch, and she trembled in a bundle of conflicting emotions. 

"Left you for dead, they did," Spike reminded her, watching the emotions fly across her face.  There was anger and fear there, and fear scented the air as well, but he also sensed conflict.  The demon was angry and needed revenge.  The soul still fought against it, burdened by fear, and irrelevant notions of right and wrong.  Fortunately for both of them, the demon seemed to be winning.

Her face was still so expressive; she'd never be a decent poker player.  No ability to bluff convincingly, to hide her feelings.  It was a tactical advantage for him when he needed to deal with her; that much was true.  But it was something that she needed to work on, for her own good.

"I can't go back yet, can I?" she asked sadly, looking up at him shyly.  Tears she refused to cry sparkled lightly in her eyes. 

Spike fought the need to hold her, comfort her.  He was still angry with her, he reminded himself.  She needed to learn to trust him and his judgment, instead of flying off the handle every time he told her something she didn't want to hear.

The door opened behind them, casting a light glow over their bodies.  "So this is where the party is, huh?" Xander asked, a note of forced joviality in his voice.

As Spike watched, she blinked several times and the tears disappeared completely from her eyes.  She turned to face the boy, a fake smile pasted on her face.  "Hi Xan.  Sorry, we were just discussing how great this place is."

From the way he looked at her, Willow suspected that Xander wasn't fooled, but he allowed her the luxury of her fantasy.  "Come back inside, Willow.  We can play a game or something.  Buffy brought Pictionary," he said temptingly.  He knew that she loved the game, even though she was terrible at it.  

Willow shot a glance at Spike, then tilted her head towards the house, a question on her face.

"I'll finish this first," he told her, flicking the hot ash from the tip of the cigarette and watching its descent to the cement below.  "Be in after that."

She nodded once, wishing for a moment that she could apologize for lashing out at him earlier, but perhaps that was best dealt with later.  She turned and followed Xander into the house, closing the door softly behind her.

Spike took his time finishing the cigarette, lingering outside of the home and contemplating his surroundings.  By the time he ventured back inside, the game was in full swing.  Buffy, Anya and Xander were bent over a large piece of paper, watching Buffy draw what looked like a mushroom with a frown on its face.  'A bad trip,' he thought, trying not to laugh as the others came up with answers ranging from 'Sammy the sad mushroom' to 'no sex.'  Apparently Xander had decided the mushroom looked more like a penis than a mushroom, and his guesses were skewed accordingly.

Willow motioned for him to sit down next to her on the couch, pushing against Angel to encourage him to move a little further down the couch in an effort to make more room for the blond. 

"You're on our team.  Oh, and we're winning," she whispered, speaking quietly in an effort not to disturb the others, so hard at work at their task. 

"Not surprised," he replied equally quietly.  "They're bloody awful."

She smiled tentatively in agreement, still unsure what to make of him after their encounter on the doorstep. 

"Time's up!" Angel announced as the last of the sand moved through to the bottom of the hourglass.

Buffy slumped back into the loveseat, defeated.  "No sex?" she moaned, her eyes shooting daggers at Xander.  "How the hell did you get 'no sex' out of this?  Why, any moron could see that this is a mushroom!"

"Bad trip," the three vampires said in unison, the same smug smile on each of their faces.

"See, even they got it!  And Angel, well, he's not known for his pop culture knowledge.  No offense," she shot the vampire a look of apology.

"Well at least I got the mushroom part right," Anya preened.

"Yeah, Sammy the sad mushroom.  Quite the stroke of genius," Xander shot back.  He gave the mushroom another glance.  "Maybe if you'd given him a switch blade or a bandana or something?  Nothing says 'bad' like a switchblade."

Willow laughed out loud, the sound catching them all a bit by surprise, even her.  "But Xander, that would make it 'gang member wanna-be' mushroom."  Her smile took the sting out of her words, and he grinned back at her, his dopey, 'yeah, I'm just a big idiot' kind of grin.  For a moment they were the same old Willow and the same old Xander, before the Initiative, before the whole 'vampire' thing.

Angel broke the moment.  "I need to get back to L.A., so I guess I'll be going.  Spike, why don't you walk me out?"  It was a command, phrased in the polite guise of a suggestion, but all three vampires knew better. 

"Can't you stay just a little longer?" Buffy asked, her voice slightly wistful. 

"Sorry," he replied, his eyes softening.  Surprisingly, he realized that he meant it. The last hour or so had actually been pleasant, maybe even fun.  The easy camaraderie of friendship was something that he missed.  Everything in L.A. was so dark and gloomy; rarely did he and the others have a chance to sit around a table and talk, or play a game of cards.  He regretted that.

Willow stood up, looking like she might follow them, but Angel gave her a slight shake of his head and a warning look, and she sat back down again. 

"Thanks for a very," he stopped for a moment, looking for just the right word, "interesting evening.  And Willow, if you ever need me, for any reason, Giles has my number.  Give me a call and I'll be here."

"Thanks.  I'm glad you came," she said softly.  "Oh, and thanks for not killing me!"

The words came out of nowhere, catching him by surprise, and he couldn't help but laugh.  Even as a vampire she was charming.  Spike didn't stand a chance, he thought.

They stood on the doorstep, sire and childe, staring out into the night sky.  "You hurt her and you'll answer to me," Angel told him, making his position clear. 

Spike merely stared at him, refusing to speak.

"I know; you'll have to-discipline her.  Teach her.  But that's it.  Don't take your anger and frustration out on her.  I find out you have, and I'll have her in L.A. so quickly your head will spin."

His threat delivered, Angel walked to his car, got in, and sped quickly into the night.

End of Chapter 16

Chapter 17

While Spike headed back into the house, their other guests were planning their departures as well. 

Willow was in hyper-mode again, thanking them effusively for all of their gifts and their help with the house.  When her eyes lit on Spike, she became slightly more subdued, as if remembering something that bothered her.

"Buffy's going to give us a ride to the crypt so we can get the rest of our stuff.  Oh, and we have to find Buffy too."

"Huh?"  The Buffy of the Slayer variety was understandably confused by Willow's statement. 

"Willow's got herself a kitten.  Named it after you," Spike smirked, watching hopefully for some fireworks from the blonde.

"Um, okay?" she seemed confused, although not terribly angry.  Spike was disappointed, but he wasn't about to give up that easily.

"Yeah, mangy, dusty, little furball.  Worthless, if you ask me."  His wording made it unclear whether he was referring to Buffy the human or Buffy the kitten.

Sparks of anger began to build behind Buffy's eyes as she trained them first on Spike, and then on Willow.  "So why did you name it after me?" she asked her friend, her voice unnaturally flat.

The redhead smiled happily, as if she took no notice at all of the goings-on around her.  "Because she's fast and has a killer instinct," she replied guilelessly.  The reasons she had given to Spike about having a Slayer for a pet were going to come back and bite her on the ass; she just knew it.  But she certainly wasn't going to say them herself.  If Spike wanted to go down that road with Buffy, that was his business.

Looking a bit less uneasy, Buffy glanced at Willow, ignoring Spike altogether.  "Maybe I can meet her?" she asked, suddenly a little shy.

Willow understood that this was more than it sounded like.  Buffy was asking to come back, to spend time with her, and Willow smiled happily at the gesture.  "You can come by whenever you want, Buffy."  She looked over at Xander and Anya, "You guys too.  Any time," she repeated.

Spike shot her an irritated look but didn't contradict her.  Knowing her as he was beginning to, he understood that having them all in her life would steady her and help her adjust.  He wasn't happy about it, but he would have to put up with it for now.  After all, he had forever.   They were merely blips on the radar, there for a short time and then gone.

Buffy dropped them off in front of the cemetery, watching the two vampires sneak stealthily into the night.  Willow's red hair seemed to linger a bit longer, while Spike, even with his bright yellow hair, took better advantage of the shadows, wrapping them around him like a cloak.

Enjoying the peace and quiet of the cemetery, Buffy turned off the engine of the vehicle and simply sat for a while, thinking about everything that had happened in the last day.

It had all been nerve-wracking.  From the moment she saw Willow, to Angel's unexpected arrival, to Willow's reaction to her new home.  It seemed like there were just way too many things to be packed into one small day.

Willow was different.  She understood that now on both an intellectual and an emotional level.  But as different as she was, Buffy still saw glimpses of her old friend behind those curiously sparkling eyes. 

She feared that spending so much time with Spike would make Willow sarcastic and maybe even cruel.  But as long as Willow, and Spike she supposed, allowed the rest of them to be a presence in her life, Buffy would try to combat Spike's influence as much as possible.

She sank deeper into thought, her eyes closing momentarily as she considered what Willow would do with the rest of her life.  Would she go back to school?  Or just hang out with Spike?  Somehow she couldn't see her friend spending eternity as some kind of stay-at-home vampire; the redhead needed more interaction with others.  Being turned into a vampire wouldn't change her *that* much.  At least she hoped not.

A sudden rapping on the driver's side window startled Buffy.  She scrambled to the other side of the bench seat, her hands reaching automatically for the spot underneath where long ago she had hidden several extra stakes.  As she gripped the stakes, her head swiveled around, searching the night for the source of the noise.

When her eyes met those of her would-be attacker they widened in surprise.  Riley Finn, the T.A. in her and Willow's Psychology class, stood just outside the door of the vehicle, a rather sheepish smile on his face.

Buffy trusted Riley.  There was just something kind and moral about the young man, and she had felt comfortable with him immediately.  Well, comfortable and yet completely nervous.  He was handsome, in a 'down on the farm' kind of way, and although Willow tended to disagree with her, Buffy had always thought that Riley was kind of cute.

Feeling rather sheepish at her overreaction to his knock on the window, Buffy tucked the stakes back under the car seat and then slid over to the driver's side.  She stopped for a moment, less than a second, to give her spidey senses a chance to detect any vampire activity in the area.  Far off in the distance she could sense Spike and Willow, like a tingling pressure down her spine, but other than that, the area felt surprisingly vampire-free. 

Buffy rolled down her window, giving Riley her best and brightest smile.  The words 'fancy meeting you here,' passed through her head, but thankfully she let them go right out the other side without being uttered.  Cheezy dialog was definitely not needed.

"Hey," she said casually, deciding to go for the whole minimum word-age thing.  It had always worked for Oz, making him seem cool and smart.  Maybe it would work for her?

"Hey," Riley answered back, a friendly smile on his face.  Despite the smile, Buffy sensed something else behind his eyes.  Was it worry?  Or uncertainty?  Did it mean that the straightforward Iowa farm boy was more than he seemed?

Buffy shook her head slightly, amused by her own paranoia.  That was what living on the hellmouth did to a person; it made them doubt those around them, and the motives for their actions.

"So, what are you doing out here so late?  In a cemetery, of all places?" Riley asked, his voice carefully casual with just a hint of curiosity burning through it. 

Good question, Buffy admitted uneasily.  Think fast, she chided herself.  He'd never believe the truth.  Unless maybe he would, in which case she would be even more worried.  "Well, it's quiet.  I like cemeteries.  They're-ya know-quiet," she repeated awkwardly, "and I can think here.  Kind of clear my mind, you know?"

Riley leaned against the car, his eyes roaming the neighborhood, picking apart the shadows, although he tried to hide it.  "Yeah," he agreed, "I know what you mean.  It's really peaceful here."  He paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts.  "You need to be careful though.  There are lots of-well, bad people out there, and they tend to come out at night.  It can be dangerous, even if you're young and quick."

"I can handle myself," Buffy replied sharply, shooting him an appraising glance.  For a moment there she could have sworn he was about to say something else, something about evil lurking in the night, or some such romantic garbage.  Her mind was playing tricks on her again she decided.  There was no way this wholesome farm boy knew about what went bump in the night.

"Tell ya what," she said, leaning over the edge of the open window and looking up at Riley as she batted her eyelids flirtatiously.  "I have to drop this monster of a car back at my mom's place, and then walk back to campus.  Why don't you come with me, and then you can walk back with me?  That way you can keep me safe, and I can keep you entertained.  Sound good?"

Riley couldn't help but grin at her enthusiasm, and quickly decided to take her up on her offer.  He had been suffering through a late patrol, but hadn't run into anything more dangerous than Buffy, which meant that the evening had been pretty dull overall.

"Sounds good," he agreed eagerly.  He lost little time in circling the car and opening the passenger side door, sliding comfortably into the cool, air-conditioned car.  "Nice ride," he added appraisingly.

"Yeah, it's not bad.  Mom's just letting me use it for today though.  After that it's back to walking."

They fell silent after that brief exchange, each wondering what they could say that wouldn't sound silly.  It was a comfortable silence though, and Buffy pondered that fact, wondering how she could feel so relaxed with someone she knew so little about.  Screwing up her nerve, she cast a quick look at his face, noting his thoughtful expression. 

What was he thinking about, she wondered.  Like Angel before him, Buffy had little idea what made this man tick.  Was he just as comfortable with this silence as she was, or was he uneasy, or perhaps bored or maybe just tired?

"You never told me what *you* were doing out there tonight," she said suddenly.  Was it her imagination, or had he started guiltily at her words?  She pulled into her mom's driveway, setting the parking brake and sliding the key from the ignition.  Turning slightly to look at him, her eyes searched his face for clues.

"Nothing much to tell," he answered, his face devoid of any expression she could easily identify.  "Just taking a walk, clearing my head.  Like you, I guess.  Then I saw you there and figured I'd see if you needed any help."

"Well I'm glad you did," she replied softly, letting her lips part slightly and her expression become soft and welcoming.

"I'm glad I did too," he responded.  "C'mon, let's get you back on campus where you belong, huh?"  He opened his door, and jumped out, moving around quickly to open her door as well.  She was slightly surprised at the old-fashioned gentlemanly gesture, but in some small way it touched her.  Maybe she was the Slayer, and able to do that kind of thing for herself, but sometimes it was nice to be pampered and taken care of.  There was nothing wrong with that she insisted, to the dismay of her inner feminist. 

They chatted comfortably as they walked back.  The ice had been broken, and suddenly they found themselves unable to stop talking.  He talked about growing up on a farm, something that she could never even imagine.  She talked about her friends and family, and how she was getting on during her first year in college. 

It made her sad that she couldn't tell him everything about herself and her life, but she knew that he wasn't ready for it; maybe he wouldn't ever be.  Then again, they had never even had a date, so maybe she was getting a little ahead of herself with that. 

"Speaking of friends," he said, drawing her attention back to him, "what's going on with Willow?  I haven't seen her in class for a couple of days, and that's really unlike her."

He was surprised to see the look of pain flash across her face, quickly hidden.  It was brief; merely a momentary burst of emotion, but something told him that it was serious.

"Willow is-well-she has some personal issues to work through," Buffy said finally, her voice soft yet carefully controlled.  "I don't know if she'll be back this quarter."

"Oh, I'm really sorry.  I had no idea," he apologized hastily, although his mind was racing with curiosity, wondering what kind of problems the young woman could be having.  From their conversations, he knew that Willow was an avid student, someone who sought out tough classes not just because she *had* to take them, but because their complexity excited and challenged her.  Whatever was going on with her, it would have to be something serious if she was purposely withdrawing from school.

"It's just-well, something she'll have to get through.  But I think she's going to be okay.  I hope…" Buffy trailed off uncertainly, hoping that if she believed the words strongly enough, they would come true.

Relief flashed through her as she realized that they were in front of her dorm.  "Thanks for the company," she said.  "It was nice to talk and stuff."

"Yeah, it was.  Oh, tell Willow I said hello when you see her, okay?  And, um," he was nervous, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.  "Would you go out with me?" he blurted out, sending the words out on a long exhalation.

Her sudden smile was enough of a reply, but she followed it up with a breathless, "Yes, I'd love to," that had his head spinning and left his heart lodged somewhere up in his throat.

"Great.  I'll call you.  Tomorrow.  We'll set it up, okay?"

"Sounds great," she agreed happily, giving him one last smile before heading into the dorm. 

Riley walked casually around to the front of the dormitory building, watching restlessly until he saw the light come on in her window.  Once he knew that she was safe, he headed east, towards the dorms that housed the Initiative.  He still had to make a quick report to Maggie Walsh, but as soon as that was finished, he would have the rest of the evening to figure out where he would take Buffy for their first date.

End of Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Willow collected her scant personal items in silence.  All she really had were the clothes and shoes that Spike had bought her the other day, so it didn't take her long.  In the meantime she watched curiously as Spike surveyed the remnants of the life he was leaving behind.  Most of what he needed, he could put into a half-dozen crates.  Mostly books, a few records, a VCR, and the small TV.   Oh, and that ever-dazzling wardrobe of black. 

She wondered what it was with the black.  Navy blue was a perfectly respectable dark color, as were hunter green and dark purple, but Spike and Angel had rarely worn anything except black.  Was it a vampire thing?  Should she insist on an all-black wardrobe?  Was she even now failing in her vampiric duty by wearing a light green top with dark blue leggings?  But black just wasn't a very 'Willow' color, she reminded herself. 

"A year of my life, and this is all I have to show for it," Spike grunted, lugging a box full of clothing and bedding from the lower level and dropping it on the floor beside him.  The wooden crate protested as it hit the floor, but refused to fly apart.  The blond kicked it for good measure, watching as it skidded across the cement floor and came to a stop by Willow's feet.

She looked around the crypt, realizing that there were several other things they would not have the room to carry.  "Should I see if Buffy's still here?  I could ask if she'll give us a lift back before she goes home?  We could put this stuff in her mom's car and then we could take more with us."

Spike shrugged his shoulders, leaving the decision up to her, and moved to his bookshelf to throw some books into another crate.

"I'll be right back," she said quietly, slipping out the door and into the night.  Spike merely watched for a moment before turning back to his task.

Willow walked quietly but quickly, trying to keep to the shadows.  She knew that any vampire with more than a couple of months under his belt could probably take her in a fight, and had decided that the best way to avoid that was to try to blend in and make herself unnoticeable.  It was a trait that she had long practiced as a human, and now that she had the extra-stealthy vampire thing going on, it was even less of a challenge.

Realizing that Buffy's car was still parked in the cemetery parking lot, Willow made her way towards the car.  Then she saw something that startled her:  there was a figure standing in front of her friend's door.  As she watched silently, Buffy rolled down her window and began to talk to the person.  She strained her hearing to its limit trying to catch the words, and was rewarded by bits and pieces of their conversation. 

It was Riley, she realized.  Buffy had a bit of a thing for him, so Willow was hesitant to break up what seemed to be a friendly conversation between the two of them.  Maybe she should just quietly fade away; Buffy could take care of herself, and from the soft feminine laughter she heard, she knew that her presence would be an interruption.

She watched for a few minutes more, just about to turn around and head back to the crypt, when a hand from behind her clamped itself over her mouth.  Panic surged within her.  She wriggled frantically, until she heard calm words whispered in her ear.  "Relax, it's just me.  Didn't want to startle you."

Well it's a bit late for that, she thought angrily, as she turned to glare at her sire. 

"So what do we have here?" he asked curiously as he watched Buffy.  She was in full-on flirt mode, he noted, a part of him snickering at how obvious she was.  The bloke facing her seemed to be a thick, solid type.  Probably dumb as a box of rocks too.  They'd make a perfect pair, he thought spitefully.

Then the man turned and searched the shadows, and Spike froze.  He recognized the face.  His nightmares were peppered with the face of that man, and others like him.  Teasing, taunting, and finally hurting him.  Turning swiftly and silently, he dragged Willow back behind a small bush and placed his index finger silently to her lips as if to seal them.

Willow was confused; she could feel Spike's emotions surging like a relentless tide.  His fear, strong and angry, shot into her through the bond and she had to stop herself from doubling over, the emotion was so strong.

Her eyes sought his, looking for guidance.  He grabbed her arm, pulling her swiftly back to the crypt, easing the door shut quietly behind them.

"What's wrong?" she asked, confused and disoriented by his behavior.

"That bloke.  The one Buffy was talking to.  You must know him, or you would have done something, right?"

She just stared at him, trying to understand why he was asking her these questions.  The intensity of his voice and the force of his gaze as it bored into her were beginning to scare her slightly.

"Right?" he insisted again, his hands shooting out to close onto her shoulders.  He shook her slightly, wanting to scream at her, to impress upon her how urgent this was. 

"Yeah," she said finally, speaking softly, hoping to calm the flame of his emotion.  "That's just Riley.  He's okay.  I mean there's nothing particularly exciting about him or anything.  He's a T.A. for one of my professors.  Buffy likes him; thinks he's cute or something."

"I knew the Slayer had something to do with this," he muttered, releasing his grip on her shoulders.  Pacing angrily around the crypt, he stopped to throw words at her from over his shoulder.  "Even when she insisted she didn't, I could feel her fingerprints all over this damned chip," he hissed.

Willow shook her head, hoping somehow that the action would knock all the puzzle pieces in her mind into a design that would make sense to her, because so far nothing was.  Making sense, that is.  "What are you talking about?" she finally asked him, shrinking back from the angry glare he shot her.

"He's Initiative," Spike said flatly.  "The Slayer's nice, unexciting boy is a member of the Initiative."

He watched as she flinched from the words, her face frozen in shock, her eyes growing large and frightened.  "No, he couldn't.  He's-he's my friend.  He wouldn't have-he couldn't have done that to me."

She sank down to the floor, pulling her knees up to her chest in an effort to protect herself from the ugly truth.  "Riley wouldn't do that," she whispered, shaking her head frantically at the thought.

Spike cursed himself for forgetting that they had both been raped by the Initiative.  In his case it was more of a psychological rape, but it left him just as angry and, although he would never admit it to anyone, just as frightened. 

He dropped down to sit beside her, fighting not to take it personally when she leaned away from him.  "Shhh," he murmured, moving slowly to drape his arm around her shoulders. 

She fought the contact for a moment, her body growing stiff as she battled her fear.  Finally she relaxed against him, her face going soft as tears began to gather.  The touch of his hand on her head, as it gently brushed the hair back from her face, acted as a catalyst.  Before she knew it, the tears were falling from her eyes, large wet drops, setting twin tracks of misery down her cheeks.

Spike thought back to the night he found her, considering the scents that had been there.  That particular smell had been absent.  He offered her the knowledge in an attempt to comfort her.  "He wasn't there that night.  I didn't smell his scent."

"But I thought you said he was –"

"He's with the Initiative; I will never forget his face or his scent.  But I don't think he was there that night."

"Thanks," she offered quietly, sniffling slightly as she tried to quell her tears.  "I can accept that he's-one of them.  I just, I couldn't imagine that he would do something like that to me.  To someone he knew."

Willow knew that her words sounded like a version of 'it's okay that he did it to you, as long as he didn't do it to me,' and that bothered her.  Now that her perspective had changed slightly, she realized that what the Initiative had done to Spike was just as appalling as what it had done to her.  Different, but just as awful.

"I'm sorry.  What they did to both of us was terrible.  And they'll pay," she promised him, a bit of the demon coming out in the bald statement of fact.  She *would* make them pay, she vowed.

Just as Spike was about to get up and suggest that they leave, a small scratching sound against the door caught their attention.  "Buffy," Willow crooned softly, waiting impatiently as Spike went to the door to slide it open just a fraction, pulling a face when the kitten raced into the room and threw itself straight into Willow's waiting arms. 

Buffy had obviously been playing in the dirt – it hung from her body, chunks of it falling to the ground as Willow picked it free from her fur.  "What have you been up to, you naughty kitten?" she scolded, her voice devoid of anything but affection.

"Ready to go, pet?" he called from the door, hefting the TV and several of the crates in his arms. 

Willow nodded, placing the kitten in the uppermost of the three crates that she was to carry.  Thank goodness for vampire strength, she thought.  Otherwise most of these crates would be staying right where they were.  They would come back tomorrow night to pick up the less important items, but any crypt left unoccupied for too long would become a magnet for squatters, so after tomorrow they would have to take everything else they wanted.  Fortunately, that wasn't much.

Spike left first to make sure that everything was clear.  Buffy and her friend were long gone.  His senses ranged off in all directions but could not hear the slightest sound or heartbeat.  Now or never he figured, as he motioned Willow out into the night.

They made it back to their new home without incident or conversation, traveling quickly, each of them lost within their own thoughts.  Spike's mind was busy figuring out ways that he could use the information about Riley to their advantage when the inevitable confrontation between the vampires and the Initiative took place.

Willow's thoughts took an entirely different direction.  Although she was still concerned to find out that Riley was one of the commandos, her mind kept leading her back to the confrontation she had with Spike earlier that evening. 

He had hurt her; she could still feel the imprint of his hand where it had closed around her throat, pulling her off of her feet as she struggled against him.  But what bothered her most was the fact that her desire had scented the air.  She didn't want him.  She didn't, she insisted. 

But then why had her lust hung heavy in the air between them, a traitorous part of her mind taunted her.  Was it a reaction to the pain?  Vampires liked pain, she remembered.  Or at least Spike always had.  Maybe she did too.  Perhaps that was why she had become aroused at his touch.

That had to be it.  Anything else was unacceptable. 

At the thought of her sire, she shot him a cautious look, her gaze settling on his face.  He stared straight ahead, his eyes far away, and she wondered what he was thinking about.

She might have asked him then, giving her question a casual tone, but their new home loomed before them, and Willow decided to leave him alone.  It was late, and she was tired.  And there were still the sleeping arrangements to figure out.

End of Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Spike set up the TV and VCR while Willow introduced her kitten to the rest of their new home.  The gray puffball had taken to the new couch enthusiastically, digging its sharp claws deep into the upholstery.  From there she had walked Buffy into the small laundry room that was just off the kitchen, showing her the hastily-improvised litter box, and explaining in a very serious, reasonable tone that the kitten needed to use this box for a couple of days because they did not plan to let her outside again just yet.  

She can't understand you," Spike muttered under his breath, the words carrying to Willow easily.  He had moved to the kitchen, and was unpacking the multitude of coffee mugs the others had bought them and stacking them in the dishwasher. 

The redhead cast him a disgruntled glance, but chose not to respond.  She noticed that his shoulders were stiff with annoyance, and Willow was learning quickly to read the cues.  He was upset about something.  What it was exactly, she couldn't say.  Nor did she care.

Leaving Buffy to play happily in the litter box, Willow made her way into the kitchen.  She moved to the refrigerator, grabbing two bags of blood and stealing two mugs from Spike's box. 

Soon the soothing hum of the microwave reached Spike's ears, along with the subtle scent of heating blood.  His demon came to life at the thought of food, and at the microwave's cheerful 'ping', his eyes settled easily onto the mug that Willow placed in his hand.

He was still raring for a fight.  His confrontation with Angel, followed closely by an equally frustrating one with his childe, made his demon eager for some violence, followed quickly by angry, rough sex.

Maybe she would be willing to skip straight to the sex?  Even as he had the thought, he knew it would not happen.  Maybe someday, but not today.

He wanted her; he admitted it.  He wasn't sure whether it was part of the sire/childe bond, or if the need had always existed in some form.  Seeing her tonight, along with his sire, and knowing that he would never share the bond that they did thanks to their souls, made him angry.  Angel was trying to steal yet another woman from him.  And she *was* his, damn it.  Soul or no soul, she belonged to him.  Yet he was still unable to treat her as he should.  That knowledge gnawed at his demon, making him quick to anger over inconsequential things that had nothing to do with the true problems between them.

Moving to sit on the couch, he cocked an eyebrow as she came and sat next to him.  They sat in an awkward stillness, neither one of them knowing how to break the silence.

"So what did Angel say?  Before he left?"  The words were said quietly, hesitantly, as if she was uncertain whether bringing up the subject was really such a good idea.

The look Spike shot her over his mug left her in no doubt of her mistake.  His eyes burned with fury, his lips forming a nasty sneer.  The growl that he added to it made her long to pull away and move to the other side of the room; the other side of the state was sounding even better at this point.

"Just couldn't wait to start talking about him, could you?  Wanna start a club?  Souled vampires only, of course.  No need for the likes of me to apply," he growled angrily.

An answering anger sprang to life in her eyes.  She had only asked an innocent question.  Satisfying her curiosity more than anything.  What the hell was his problem?

The answer came to her quickly, courtesy of her Psych 101 class.  Professor Walsh would have been proud of her analytical skills.  Spike was feeling threatened.  She and Angel had souls, he didn't.  Simple as that.

So what did she do about it? Pacify him and insist that the soul made no difference?  She could do it, could say the words, but she wasn't sure if she believed them.

Because the soul *did* make a difference.  It gave her and Angel a common ground, a way to relate to each other that went beyond sire or childe or vampire or blood.  Admittedly her situation was light years from Angel's; he had suffered for decades because of his soul, and the way he lived before it was returned. 

Willow, on the other hand, had always had a soul.  Well, except for those brief hours of unconsciousness shortly after her turning.  But she hadn't killed or tortured anyone during that time.  She had barely been able to move even, much less wreak bloody havoc on an unsuspecting Sunnydale.

Something that Angel had mentioned earlier came back to her.  "Why haven't you ever made a childe before?"

Spike stared at her, trying to figure out how the conversation had gone from him trying to pick a fight about Angel to her asking about him making childer.  The way her mind worked confounded him.

"Drusilla," he answered finally, giving up on the fight for now. 

"Drusilla?"

To Spike that one word was the answer to it all, but apparently Willow needed more.  He thought for a moment before setting the empty blood mug on the low table before him.

"She was my mate.  My love.  Didn't need anything else.  Besides, she was the jealous type.  Back when she wanted me," he added bitterly.  "Told me if I ever made a childe, she'd rip off its head before I could ever touch it."

Willow shivered, slightly in awe at the thought of such devotion.  She was a little uneasy as well, since she *was* Spike's childe.  Would Drusilla know, just as Angel had?  Would she come back to Sunnydale and make good on her threat?

"Wouldn't let her touch you," he told her, reading the emotions in her eyes.  He slung an arm around her shoulders, smiling slightly as she relaxed into his touch.   "Besides, she doesn't care anymore.  Doubt she'd even bother."

As relieved as she felt for herself, she still had a scrap of compassion left over for Spike.  The memory of Xander's affection for Cordelia haunted her sometimes, and she knew how much it stung when you loved someone so fiercely and they didn't return the feeling.

Silence covered them both, until Willow spoke again.  "What about after Dru?  You could have made one then."

"Nearly did," Spike drawled.  He kicked off the boots he wore, propping his feet comfortably onto the coffee table in front of them.  His mind raced, considering whether he should tell her the next bit.  Would she be flattered or angry?  With a mental shrug, he decided it didn't really matter anymore.

"I came back to Sunnydale with that thought on my mind," Spike admitted, watching as curiosity kindled in her gaze.  He had come back with two goals:  to kill the Slayer and to make a childe.  Fortunately for him, both the Slayer and his intended childe had lived in the same room.  One-stop shopping, he had cackled gleefully at the time.

Until the moment when he had tried to bite her and that damned chip went off.  The physical agony had melded with the emotional pain, creating a torment the intensity of which he had never felt before or since.

"Karma," he murmured, lost in thoughts of pain and disappointment. 

"Huh?"

"Fate, destiny, you know the word," he said, staring straight ahead as if his answer explained everything.

She chanced a look at him, noting the far-away expression on his face.  "I know the word," she agreed.  "Why did you say it?"

His eyes returned to hers as a feral smile played around his lips.  "Because I came back here to turn you."

She dismissed the claim with an angry wave of her hand.  "You came back to kill Buffy.  I was just a convenient distraction.  Well, until the chip…" the words trailed off unhappily.

Spike laughed, the sound hollow as it echoed in the walls of their home.  "Think about it, Willow.  Buffy was never home at that hour.  If she wasn't playing Slayer, she was out playing with her newest boy-toy.  But there was someone I knew would be there; someone studious and conscientious and sure to be home studying, even while everyone else was out living.  Who do you think that would be, pet?"

He watched as her eyes grew wide with surprise and her jaw dropped a good inch and a half.  His hand reached out, gently raising her jaw, the movement nearly a caress.  "You look silly, pet," he whispered, smiling and relaxing back into the couch.

"But-but you, you gave me a choice," she stuttered, her eyes roving the room wildly as if the answers to her problems were written on the walls.  "You said I could die.  You said!"

He had to smile at her naiveté, wondering if he had ever been that trusting.  "I was about to kill you, pet.  Evil demon and all that.  No soul here.  We lie sometimes."

The statement infuriated her, but he did have a point.  So instead Willow directed her emotion elsewhere.  "Don't call me pet," she pouted, scrambling off the couch and shrugging off his arm angrily.  "I'm not your pet!"

"No," he answered, his voice taking on a dangerous silky tone as he stood to face her.  "You're my childe.  Would you prefer that I called you childe?  In front of the others?  It's certainly more than appropriate sometimes."

She shook her head wildly, backing away from him and the anger she saw in his eyes. 

Then a thought occurred to her, and she went from angry to teary in the space of ten seconds.  "My parents," she muttered, her throat choked with raw emotion.  She sat down at their dining room table, dropping her head to her hands as she repeated the words with a bit more volume.  "MY PARENTS."

Her parents?  The people that had brought her into this world and then, by all accounts he had heard, abandoned her?  "What about your parents?" Spike asked, closing the distance between them.  He pulled out a chair and sat next to her, wondering what he could do to calm her.

When Drusilla had been in one of her emotional storms, the safest bet had always been to pacify her, showering her with platitudes and flowery words. 

Willow was a different matter altogether.  She was smart, quick to anger, at least since her turning, but also quick to feel hurt.  Her emotions changed on a dime; she and Drusilla had that in common at least.  Not that it made dealing with her any easier.  Her intelligence would make any insincere attempt on his part more than obvious, and she would pick at the scab of his words until she knew exactly what he was doing and why.  Insincerity would get him nowhere. 

So that meant dealing with her honestly.  Something about that just seemed wrong to him, but he would try it nonetheless.

"What about your parents," he asked seriously, setting his elbows on the table and leaning in to look at her face. 

Tears rolled down her cheeks, dropping at last onto the red tablecloth, turning it a darker red where they were absorbed into the fabric. 

'Don't eat with your elbows on the table.'  How many times had her parents admonished her for that?  And yet now that she was an adult, everyone did it. Had the times and customs changed, or had children everywhere simply rebelled when they reached adulthood, finding the rule ridiculous and without purpose?

She shook her head slowly, finding her thoughts almost as silly as that age-old parental rule. 

Hands that shook only a little bit came to her face and wiped away the tears, her eyes still red-rimmed and watery, but no longer crying.  She faced Spike, her lip trembling slightly.  "What am I going to tell my parents?" Willow asked him, tears again threatening to spill over.  "I mean, yeah, they're not here often, but someday they'll come back.  Someday," she repeated.  "And when I-I look like a teenager, but I'm in my 20s and then my 30s, and then…"

Spike was at a bit of a loss.  He remembered his mother's face as she died, and then again when he staked the vampire that she had become.  The rest of his family hadn't been worth the effort to kill, so he had merely left them for greener pastures.  Western Europe, China, and all points in between had become his home.

The thought of having a family and actually caring about what they thought was something completely foreign to him, and left him feeling uncomfortable in his uselessness.

"How do you keep in touch with them?" he asked finally.

"Email mostly.  They call the dorm on holidays and birthdays.  Otherwise it's email."

"Well you still have that, right?"  He watched her nod, and then continued.  "So you wait until they say they're coming for a visit."

"And then?"

He thought for a moment.  "And then we jump off that bridge when we get to it," he finished.  She wasn't happy with that answer, he could tell that much by the look in her eyes, but he had nothing better to give her at the moment.

"C'mon up to bed, Childe," he said with a bit of a grin. 

Willow tried to grin back, but the effort was somewhat marred by her watery eyes.  In the end she had to settle for a bittersweet smile, as she trudged up the stairs after him.

End of Chapter 19

Chapter 20

After eyeing the empty bedroom that was to be Spike's, they decided to sleep in Willow's room.  The bed was more comfortable, and even though Spike swore all the bric-a-brac was giving him hives and a nervous twitch, he was both too tired and too lazy to do anything about it right then and there.  Except complain.  He seemed to have an endless amount of energy when it came to that.

Willow thought about putting up a token protest about the sleeping arrangements.  After all, they were no longer in the crypt, with only one choice of bed.  But she was tired, he was grumpy, and somehow she sensed that the morning light wasn't that far away.   So in the end she gave in to practicality and threw herself into bed, after a quick trip to the bathroom to change into one of her old oversized t-shirts. 

Silently she thanked Buffy and Xander, and the rest of her friends, for bringing by most of her clothing.  The outfits Spike bought for her weren't bad, but somehow sleeping in her own nightgown again made her feel almost normal, as if everything that had happened was merely a bad dream.

She was able to keep that pretence of normalcy almost up until Spike climbed into bed beside her, the smoke from his cigarette tickling her nose and sending her crashing right back to reality.

Willow was having the strangest dream.  She was drinking a milkshake through a way-too-narrow straw, sucking and sucking, but nothing was coming up the straw.  She moved her head slightly and sucked again, and a mouthful of wonderful, succulent, human blood was her reward.

No, not human blood.  This blood was rich and full and dancing with age and power.  It was sire's blood. 

Her eyes sprang open.  A cool pale expanse of neck met her sleepy gaze.  An arm was draped casually around her waist, holding her to him, and when it became obvious that she was awake, a teasing chuckle reached her ears.

"Usually it's customary to ask before you taste," Spike reminded her, adding to himself that if he had had the temerity to do such a thing to Angelus he would never have lived to see another sunset. 

Willow realized with embarrassment that she was still sucking down his blood and hastily retracted her fangs, calming the demon when it became angry at the loss of the delicious food.  "Sorry," she mumbled, refusing to meet his eyes. 

Her tongue laved the skin of his neck, catching the stray drops weeping from the two neat puncture wounds.  The wounds that were closing before her very eyes.  She watched the show, fascinated once again by the speed at which his body, and now hers, could heal.

Spike ran his fingers through her hair, catching a strand and bringing it to his lips.  He blew a puff of air through it, watching it wave, then tugged it lightly, using it to draw her face out of the place where his neck met his shoulder.

"Care to return the favor?" 

She wanted to deny him; he could easily read the look of panic in her eyes.  But after having been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, so to speak, she wasn't in a very strong position to refuse him.  He made his face as bland and inoffensive as he could, hoping to convince her to allow him this intimacy.

"Oh-okay," Willow stuttered softly.  She hesitated a moment before rolling onto her back, as he rolled onto his side, mirroring the positions they had held just a moment before. 

Spike reached out a hand, brushing the hair lightly from the side of her neck.  He stroked her skin gently, watching her body tense at the gesture.  Taking a lock of her hair, he brushed it teasingly across her neck, grinning slightly as she fought to maintain her tense façade.  Ultimately she failed, and a tentative smile flowed across her face.

Knowing that she was ready, Spike felt his demon emerge.  As gently as he could, he punctured the surface of her neck, enjoying the feeling as he sank his fangs deep into her.

It wasn't quite the same as the last time he had tasted her, when he had turned her.  The blood was different now.  There was less innocence, and more sorrow and confusion, but the underlying flavors of magic and darkness were still there.  And of course, it was quite a bit cooler than before.  Still, the taste of it was delicious enough to bring a moan to his lips and make his cock surge to attention.

Willow's eyes grew large as she heard Spike's moan.  Her left leg was bracketed, one of his on either side, and although she tried her best to ignore or deny it, she could feel the hard length of him pressing against the flesh of her upper thigh. 

Closing her eyes and trying to relax, Willow attempted to shift her concentration to something else, anything other than the feel of his cock.  She soon became lulled into a sense of comfort by the feel of his lips against her skin, sucking gently, and the rush of the blood as it traveled from her body to his. 

Spike was careful to take small, cautious mouthfuls, using his tongue and his lips on her neck to ease the tension he felt rising off of her, until her body was pliant beneath his.  Her small hand came to his head, the fingers fiddling with his hair as he had toyed with hers earlier.  In her current state of relaxation he wasn't sure if she was even aware of her actions, but he wasn't about to say anything to draw her attention to them.

Deciding that he had taken enough, and had also managed to show his childe that an exchange of blood wasn't something to be dreaded, his fangs retreated, releasing their hold on her neck.  His tongue continued to swirl around on her skin, drawing a figure-eight pattern around the twin puncture marks.

Willow's mind and body were alive with conflicting emotions.  Analytically speaking, she understood that what was happening between them was perfectly natural.  Well, as natural as anything was between two vampires. 

But on an emotional level things weren't nearly so simple.  This was Spike.  Her sire.  And while a part of her wanted to get as far away from him as possible, another part of her was drawn to him with an intensity that she couldn't deny or ignore.

The feel of his cock pressing against her thigh continued to remind her of what any other childe and sire would do next.  Did he want her in that way?  Or was it simply his body's natural reaction to blood and pain and the nearness of an available female? 

Willow thought back to the previous evening, when he had hurt her and aroused her, all with one swift action.  She tried to deny her arousal, blame it on circumstances or pretend that it didn't exist, but her senses did not lie.  Her arousal had lain heavy in the air, like a cheap cologne.  She felt her body heat up slightly just thinking about it.  Fortunately she no longer blushed, but her body still had a way of making her feel her embarrassment.

Spike watched his childe as she thought, wondering why she felt the need to make life so difficult.  For him, everything was pretty simple.  Take what you want, and don't look back. 

Admittedly it was a pretty simplistic view of the world, and life in general.  But when you were at the top of the food chain, life really was that easy.  Maybe it was just taking her a while to realize exactly how powerful she was now.  Or perhaps it was the damned soul getting in the way again.

Sharp pinpricks of pain blossomed in Willow's big toe, making her start and yelp in a most unvampire-like way.  Her eyes narrowed as she noticed Buffy, teeth and claws latched onto a bump under the sheet.  Unfortunately for her, that bump happened to be her toe. 

"Buffy," she crooned quietly, wiggling her toe a bit in an attempt to dislodge the attacker. 

Instead of discouraging the grey puffball, it seemed to have the opposite effect, and the cat attacked her foot again, leaping straight up into the air in a show of acrobatic agility and landing right back where she started, again digging her claws into the obviously hostile-looking toe.

"Ow!" Willow cried.  Both vampires could sense that Buffy had managed to draw blood this time, the hint of its scent stirring both demons, even though they had recently fed.

"Stop it, you furry pain in the ass," Spike growled. 

The sound of the growling vampire got the kitten's attention, and it released the toe and stalked towards Spike.  Buffy slowly crawled up his thighs; her ears were laid back, her teeth bared, her bent legs keeping her low to the ground.  She obviously saw him as a fellow predator, and was determined to attack him before he could attack her.

Spike laughed at the sight of the kitten that hoped to make its mark on him, William the Bloody.  He had to give the creature credit for bravery; the odds were distinctly against it.  But it attacked anyway, regardless. 

Or maybe it was just too stupid to realize how sorely it was outmatched.  He wasn't sure which was closer to the truth, but he still couldn't help being amused.

"Think you can take me, do ya?" he asked with a grin.  With lightening-fast reflexes he grabbed the kitten by the scruff of its neck, dangling it high over his head as the fluffy grey menace huffed and spat at him.

"I think she's starting to grow on me," he admitted, shooting a sidelong grin at the redhead, ignoring the kitten completely as he talked to Willow.  Buffy continued to hiss at him, trying to figure out some way to do damage to her captor.

"Spike, let her down!" Willow seemed as annoyed as the kitten, which made him realize that the two shared several traits.  Both seemed to be an ongoing pain in his undead ass, and they also both kept fighting even when they were in way over their heads.

"Fine," he snapped, trying to inject some real anger into his voice.  Instead it came out sounding whiney and petulant, which annoyed him even more.  "Take your pet and leave me in peace," he growled, plopping the kitten down on Willow's stomach and turning on his side, his back towards her.

Willow shrugged to herself, murmuring words of comfort and encouragement to Buffy.  When the kitten climbed up to her face and started licking her chin, she couldn't stifle the giggles that burst from her lips.  "Ticklish," she whispered to a non-responsive Spike by way of explanation.

Deciding that the blond was in the middle of a snit and would be no fun at all, Willow decided to get up.  She continued a running commentary as she picked up the kitten, grabbed some clothes, and hurried out of the room, closing the door quietly behind her.  Maybe mister snippy would be in a better mood when he'd had a little more sleep, she hoped.  In the meantime, she still had a new home to explore.

Willow pondered as she washed yet another coffee mug, the kitten standing guard by her side on the white tile countertop.  Buffy had been fascinated by the stream of water that came out of the faucet, staring it down and batting at it occasionally with her tiny paw.  Willow watched with amusement, leaving the water on longer than was strictly necessary so that she could enjoy the show.

Here it was, her first day, well, make that her first afternoon, in her new place.  Most of the boxes were unpacked; what meager possessions they had were now pretty much put away. 

So what was she going to do with herself?

A sudden sense of raw panic overtook her, and her mind skittered wildly from one worthless idea to another.  She couldn't go back to school.  That had been made quite clear to her.  Nor could she go out and look for work.  Not right at that particular moment, at least.

What was she going to do?

The tap, tap, tap of the kitten's nails on the tile counter calmed her, reminding her of the clacking sounds her fingers made when typing.  That gave her an idea. 

Willow knew people online, people from all over the world.  She had done everything from designing websites to writing computer code, and had turned down more than one job due to her school schedule.  Since school was on hold for now, and it was *only* for now, she promised herself, it was time to see just how serious those offers had been.

She was going to find herself a job.

End of Chapter 20

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