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

Chapter 21

It was late afternoon when Spike finally made his way down the stairs.  His childe barely looked up to acknowledge his presence, and a growl of disapproval was hastily squelched.  Not before Willow heard it though, he realized, when her head turned again to look at him searchingly.

"What's with the clackity?" he asked, watching as her fingers flew across the keyboard of her laptop computer.  She was seated at the dining room table, a half-empty bottle of water placed next to the computer. 

Spike had never been much of a water drinker.  He knew that for humans it was a fairly common beverage, but to him it just tasted like nothing.  Pure, undiluted nothing.  He wondered if she drank it because of some habit left over from her days as a human, or if there was some other reason.

"I, um, got a job," she said uneasily, her eyes filling with a mix of emotions he couldn't quite fathom.  The cautious tone of her voice hinted that one of the emotions might be fear of his displeasure, although she hadn't seemed to mind it much in the past. 

Spike raised an eyebrow inquiringly, and then moved into the dining room.  Pulling up a chair and sitting beside her, he gazed at the computer screen, curious about how she had managed to land herself a job so quickly.  He knew she was a computer whiz, but had no practical idea of what that really meant.  Computers were tools, and he knew how to perform simple searches, which sometimes worked, but somehow he suspected that there was a lot more to them than that.  "So how does this work?"

It took Willow a moment to realize that Spike wasn't just referring to the code she was writing, but to the computer in general.  "This thing?  The computer?"  She tried not to sound too incredulous.  Having Spike show an interest in something that didn't involve pain or death was a positive.  If she reacted in a way that made him think she was laughing at him, which she wasn't, he would probably get angry, or pout, or just go away.   For some reason, she didn't want that to happen.

Computers were easy for her.  Using them, telling them what to do and configuring them to do her bidding, was as natural as breathing.  Sure, she didn't know *everything* about them, but what little she didn't know was always easy to understand, once explained properly. 

But Spike was from a different era, she realized.  As much as he seemed to live in the here and now, in reality he came from a time and place where computers weren't even a fantasy in some inventor's mind.  It made sense that he would be uncomfortable with them, even though she had no doubt that his agile mind could pick up the basics quickly, should he decide to show an interest.  One thing she knew for certain:  Spike was anything but stupid.

He draped his arm over her shoulder in a gesture both casual and possessive, and it took a concerted effort to hide her nervousness.  But after a moment, Willow's natural interest in teaching kicked in, and she was able to forget about her pupil and concentrate on the subject. 

"Have you ever used a computer?"

"A little bit, here and there," he admitted, his eyes looking curiously at the screen.  "Mostly just looking up info.  Punch the keys and watch the words come up.  No idea how it actually works, though."

She swiveled the computer a bit more towards him so he could see what she was working on.  "See, I'm building this webpage," she explained, shifting between one view and another, giving him an abbreviated explanation of how the text she typed on the screen could be interpreted and displayed as a webpage for her new employer.

"And they're paying you to make these webpages?"

"Yep, they sure are.  Eighteen bucks an hour.  It's not much for a start, but after they know I'm dependable, and that I'll do a good job, there'll be more."  Her smile was proud and excited, but also a little shy, as if she was waiting for him to say something mean and cutting. 

A part of him wanted to burst her bubble; if her confidence were undermined, she would be less independent and easier to control.  But as he watched the excitement that bubbled beneath her words as she tried to explain everything to him, he knew that he wouldn't squash her enthusiasm, even though it would have been the smart thing to do.  The vampiric thing to do. 

An unsettling thought occurred to him, rattling his composure.  Was living with her, the way that he was, turning him into a fucking pansy-assed Angel knock-off?  Only with better hair, of course. 

His demon raged at him, mocking him and his domesticated status.  He and his childe were vampires, not members of the workforce.  Money, along with food, should be taken easily from whatever victim or victims they chose. 

Living like this was unnatural.  Disgustingly, sickeningly wrong. It was, simply stated, unvampiric.  And while the damn chip was stuck in his head, there was nothing he could do about it.  He fumed impotently as his anger grew.

When Spike stayed silent, Willow turned to look at him.  The frown, coupled with the clenched jaw, alerted her to the fact that something was wrong.  He was angry; she could see it just by looking at him, and feel it trickling through the bond.

What had she done to anger him?  Was it the job?  Had he expected her to mooch off of Giles forever?  "What?" she demanded, irritation coloring her voice and making the word come out harsher than she had planned.

"Nothing," he shot back at her.  "Just fucking…nothing."  Spike pushed back from the table, coming swiftly to his feet.  Long, quick strides took him to the door.  He needed to think, needed to figure out who the hell he was these days.  Need to kill something.

He stopped for a moment, turning back and growling the words, "Don't wait up," to her before opening the door and leaving, slamming it behind him with such force that the pictures on the walls rattled.

Willow stared at the door, tears of anger and helplessness beginning to fill her eyes.  What had she done wrong?  Why was he so angry?  Because there was little doubt in her mind that he had left so abruptly because if he had stayed, he would have hurt her.

Somehow, in some way, it had to be her fault.

But if he didn't tell her why he was angry, what could she do?  Unless…

Getting up from the chair, Willow walked to the couch and sat down Indian-style.  She emptied her mind, pushing aside the anger and fear and turmoil that roiled beneath the surface.  Panicked shuddering breaths slowly gave way to deep cleansing breaths, until all that remained in her mind was peace and quiet.  Concentrating on the bond, she focused her full attention on it, feeling Spike's anger and bloodlust as it threatened to overwhelm her.  He was furious, but she still didn’t know why.

Slowly, gently, she pulled on the bond, trying to gain more access.  Maybe she could uncover something that would explain Spike's sudden shift of behavior.  Admittedly, his moods were mercurial at best, but this had been different.  And she still didn't understand why.

Just as she felt something give, a door slammed down. The connection between them was severed completely.  Spike had felt her, and pushed her out ruthlessly.  Willow's body fell back limply against the couch, and once again the tears threatened to fall.

Crying was good, she decided.  It wasn't fun, but it usually managed to wash away the bad stuff and left her feeling open and hopeful.  Just because Spike was upset, didn't mean that *she* had to be upset.  At least that was the plan.

The sound of the phone ringing startled her.  Only a half-dozen people actually had her number, so that really cut down on the possible identities of the caller. 

Grabbing the receiver, she raised it quickly to her ear. "Hello?"

"Hey, hi, Willow."  It was Buffy, and she was definitely nervous.  But she had pushed aside the nervousness and called, so that was a good thing.  And how Martha-bloody-Stewart of her, she thought, and then winced.  When had the word 'bloody' become part of her vocabulary?  That was a rather disturbing development, and one she would definitely be blaming on Spike.

"Willow?" 

"Oh, yeah, sorry.  My mind kinda, um, wandered.  Hi, Buffy!" 

"Hi.  So, I wondered, what are you doing tonight?"

'Depressing myself because my sire's angry and I can't figure out why.  And, I can't figure out why the fact that he's angry bothers me.'  Saying the words out loud was not an option, but thinking them reminded her that she and Buffy had been good friends who used to talk out their problems all the time.  Maybe they could have that again someday?

"Nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  Do you want to come over?  We could do a girl's night kinda thing:  watch movies, eat chocolate, talk about boys?  You know, the important stuff."

Willow wondered if she imagined the sigh of relief, or if she was just projecting her own emotions onto Buffy.  Her mother could probably tell her, explain it all with technical terms and diagrams, but her mother was on the other side of the world, last she had heard.

Once she had gotten the computer working, a letter had been duly sent informing her parents that she was living off-campus this semester with a friend, but that her email address had not changed.  For once the fact that her parents were non-participants in her life had actually worked in her favor.

"Sounds like fun.  I'll just do a quick patrol and then I'm there," Buffy answered, bringing Willow's thoughts back to the conversation.  "I'll pick up the ice cream on the way.  Rocky Road, same as always?"

"You know me way too well," Willow agreed with a soft chuckle, even though she knew the words weren't true anymore.  But maybe they could be again, she thought, as hope surged in her heart.  Perhaps tonight would be the start of the next chapter in their friendship.   

End of Chapter 21

Chapter 22

"Oh God, Willow, she's adorable," Buffy crooned, as she watched her namesake dispatch a dust-bunny with a quick flick of her paw.  "And wicked fast too."

"She's great, but she's bored.  She needs to go outside, but I'm just not sure she's ready yet," Willow said sadly.  Exactly how long she should wait before letting Buffy roam around outside again was a bit of a problem.  She worried that if they let her out too soon, the kitten wouldn't be able to find her way back to their new home.  But if they didn't let her out, they ran the risk of her becoming too lazy and comfortable to ever go outside again.  Hence Willow's dilemma.

"I think you should take her out," Buffy decided with a nod.  "Go out with her, maybe, and show her around.  Give her an idea where she is.  Oh!  Do you have a cat door?  Otherwise, if she wants in during the day…"  She stopped uncertainly, not wanting to finish the whole 'sunlight is lethal to vampires,' thought.  Not that she really needed to.  They both understood it.

Willow looked mildly wistful for a moment, and then wiped the look from her face and replaced it with a smile.  "Yeah, actually, there's one in the kitchen.  I've kept it closed, just in case, you know?  But I guess maybe tomorrow or the next night I'll take her out."

"Good.  That way she'll know where home is, and with the added benefit of no more litter box duty."

They both smiled at that.  So far the evening had gone well.  Buffy had come over, bearing ice cream and chocolate, and a couple of movies.  There was a chick flick entitled Enchanted April, and an action flick called The Long Kiss Goodnight.  Because the mood seemed to call for something introspective, they chose Enchanted April.

At the end, when the women in the movie made their way back to the reality of their homes in England, Willow and Buffy were returned to their own reality as well. Tears wet both their cheeks as the final credits rolled.

"Wow, that was…" Buffy began, her voice wavering from suppressed emotion.

"Yeah," Willow sighed. 

They were both lost in thought for a moment, until the feline Buffy, who had been resting comfortably on Buffy's chest after an energetic game of 'catch the fake mouse,' reached up with a paw and batted at her chin lightly.  The blonde laughed, capturing the kitten's paw and rubbing it against her cheek.

"I wish they'd let us have pets on campus," she whined.  "I mean, I guess I understand why they don't, but still.  She's just way too cute."

"Hah!" Willow snorted.  "She's not quite as cute when it's the middle of the night, and she's attacking your feet."  The words were said like a complaint, but they both knew that the redhead wasn't serious.  "And if it were up to Spike, you could keep her."

The thought of her sire brought a look of uncertainty to her face, which she quickly hid.  But Buffy had seen the look and pressed gently for details.

"Where is he tonight, anyway?  Believe me, I'm not complaining.  But I half expected him to be here, giving me a bad time about everything."

A frown settled onto Willow's face, and she sank back into the chair she sat in.  "He's out.  I'm—I'm not sure where.  He was angry."  She was silent for a moment, her thoughts elsewhere.  "He gets mad sometimes, and usually I know why.  But this time, I'm just not sure.  Maybe it was because I got a job?"

Buffy was quick to pick up on Willow's tone, sensing the fear and unhappiness her friend tried to hide.  She came to her knees in front of the redhead, leaning forward and grasping Willow's hands.  "Did he-is he-I swear, if he hurt you!"

"No, no!  It-it wasn't like that.  He'd never hurt me."  As she said the words, she wondered if they were really true.  There was still so much about him—about them—that she didn't understand.  "He's just…angry."  She leaned forward, setting her head in her hands.  "I don't understand why."

Buffy watched sadly, wondering what she could do to take Willow's mind off of her unhappiness.  "Maybe he was just in a mood?  Sometimes guys get like that."

"No, I really don't think so.  I mean, we were talking, and I was showing him the computer, and telling him about my job."

"Wait, that's right, you said you got a job?  Go you!"  Willow's eyes brightened slightly at the praise, and Buffy settled back into her own chair, getting comfortable again.  "But it's really soon.  Are you sure you want to get one so, well, right away?"

"Yeah.  I mean, I think it was a good idea."  Her eyes got that far-away look in them again.  She curled her legs underneath her in the chair, and leaned slightly on the arm.  "I can't mooch off of Giles forever, ya know?"

Buffy nodded, surprised to hear Willow talk in such terms.  But the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. 

Willow had always had a strong independent streak; considering who and what her parents were, she had needed to learn to fend for herself at an early age. As an adult, that ability to take care of herself evolved into a fierce independence, and a need to not have to depend on anyone else for her livelihood.

"Besides," Willow added, fighting away the tears that had begun to gather in her eyes, "Giles won't be there forever."  She lost the battle, and began to cry in earnest. 

Buffy jumped to her feet, pulled Willow from her chair, and enveloped her in a comforting hug.  "It's going to be all right.  I promise." 

"How can it?" she wailed, her tears continuing to fall.  "Oh Buffy, I don't want to be a vampire anymore!"  The despair in her voice tore at Buffy's heart, and she pulled Willow closer, running her hand soothingly over her hair.

How could she comfort her friend when she didn't have the words, Buffy wondered.  Willow would live forever, or at least for a long, long time, and Buffy was just now realizing that there were other consequences, besides the obvious ones.  A very small, very *human* part of her was slightly jealous.  Her friend would live forever, while as the Slayer she was destined to die young.  Neither one of them was going to live a 'normal' life.  She concentrated on it on that level, and felt compassion stir within her.

"Maybe you won't live the life you thought you would," she said softly, running her fingers through Willow's hair, in what she hoped was a comforting gesture.  As a Slayer, what she did best was kill vampires.  Consoling one wasn't something that came naturally to her.  But since Willow was a friend, she was bound and determined to try her best.  "That doesn't mean you can't make something of it.  Of yourself.  You can still be happy."

"We all do the best we can with the time we're allowed?" Willow answered sadly, her words, and a sniffle, coming from somewhere in the vicinity of Buffy's neck. 

Buffy realized that despite the fact that Willow was so close to her, she knew she had nothing to fear from the vampire.  And it was in that moment that she finally realized that things between them would be okay, no matter what the future had in store. 

Despite it all, she was still Buffy, and Willow was still Willow.  A smile broke across her face as the knowledge took root inside her. 

"Wanna hear a secret?" Buffy asked, pulling back to look at Willow, who was now struggling to wipe away her tears and give Buffy a watery smile.

"Yeah.  You know I love secrets," she said with a trace of girlish enthusiasm.  They settled back onto their chairs, Willow giving Buffy her full attention.

"Well, remember Riley?  The T.A.?  Last night he asked me out." 

Willow gave Buffy a gentle punch on the arm.  "Good for you!  I saw you talking to him the other night, but I didn't realize you were *talking* talking." 

When a soft glow suffused Buffy's cheeks, Willow couldn't help but tease her.  "You've got it bad for him, don't you?  That's so cute!"

Buffy scowled, but still managed to look wistful and just a bit insecure.

A thought struck Willow as she considered Riley's status as a newly discovered member of the Initiative.  Should she tell Buffy?  Or keep quiet about it for now? 

Riley being part of the initiative was information that Buffy should have, her soul reasoned.  It might cement the bond between them, and give Buffy someone in her life that she could share her secrets with. 

On the other hand, Riley was initiative, which meant that he was trouble.  Willow knew their aims, and the depths of their cruelty.  If Buffy knew that Riley was one of them, she might do something ill-advised, plunging them all into deep trouble.

Willow made her decision.  She didn't want her friend to get hurt, but there was more at stake than just Buffy's love life.  Hopefully, if it ever came down to it, her friend would forgive her for the choice she made today.

"Um, you didn't tell him anything about me, did you?" Willow asked uncomfortably.

"You know, I think he asked how you were, mentioned that he hadn't seen you around anywhere.  I told him that you were having personal problems and probably wouldn't be on campus for a while."  Buffy watched her curiously, wondering why Willow would ask.

"Oh, okay.  I just don't want…well, I don't want him to know, okay?  I mean, obviously, I don't want him to know about the vampire thing.  Because, well, it would be a bit hard for anyone to take!"  Willow stopped for a moment, trying to settle her emotions.  "But about the—the rape, and the other stuff either.  I don't want anyone to know about that"

"Okay," Buffy said slowly, trying to think it through.  "So what should I tell him?  Or anyone else that asks?"

Willow hesitated for a moment, trying to decide what to do.  She could tell Buffy the truth, and hope for the best.  But 'the best' would be nothing.  Buffy couldn't hurt the men who attacked her.  And she certainly couldn't bring them to justice, not without a dead body, or any kind of evidence.  Knowing the truth would put them both in danger, and would gain them nothing. 

"Could you….I don't know, maybe say that I went to visit my parents overseas?"  At Buffy's skeptical look, she rushed to continue, "I don't want to ask you to lie, but I'm just afraid that somehow, whoever it is will find out that I'm still alive.  Well, more or less.  And they'll try to find me, and…I don't want to get hurt again," she whispered, looking lost and forlorn.

It all became clear to Buffy.  If her attackers knew she was still around, still able to accuse them, they *would* come after her.  They didn't know for sure that she couldn't identify them.  "Don't worry, Willow.  I'll take care of it.  Nobody will know, I promise."

"Thanks, Buffy.  For everything.  For still being my friend, for listening to me ramble on," she smiled again.  "For tonight.  Because I *really* needed this."

"I'm always here for you, Willow.  Don't ever forget that.  Anything you need, just say the word and I'll do it."  Buffy got to her feet, as did Willow, and they embraced, just enjoying the feeling of being with a friend, someone who would go to the ends of the earth for them.  "And," Buffy whispered, "if you ever want me to take care of Spike for you, just say the word, and Mister Pointy and I are all over it."

The words were said teasingly, but Willow sensed a strong undercurrent of truth to them.  It enraged her demon that Buffy was still so eager to stake her sire, but the soul knew that she only wanted to protect a friend. 

"Spike's fine, Buffy.  Don't worry."  She considered him for a moment.  "I guess he can be a bit grumpy, maybe, but then so can I.  And he's been really understanding about, well, stuff.  Most of the time."

Buffy looked a little disappointed, but then grinned again.  "I'd better get going.  It's really late, and I still need to drop off the car at mom's house."

"Does your mom know?  About me?  And the whole 'I'm a vampire' thing?"

"Nope.  I haven't told her," the blonde admitted.  "I'm kinda scared she might wig. Like, if it could happen to you, it could happen to me.  Which, well, I suppose she's got a point there."  Buffy stopped for a moment to consider that, then shook her head to dispel the notion.  "Do you want me to? Tell my mom, I mean?"

Willow gave the question some serious thought.  She liked Buffy's mom, and trusted her to keep a secret, even one like this.  "If you want to, you can," she finally allowed.  "Just ask her not to tell anyone.  Especially my parents!  Not that she'll be talking to my parents anytime soon, I’m sure, but you know what I mean."

Buffy opened the door and stepped outside, as Willow leaned against the doorjamb.  "I promise, if I tell her, and I'm not sure if I will, then I'll make sure she knows to keep it a secret."

"Thanks again, Buffy. This was—it felt like old times, you know?"

"I know.  We need to do this again, soon.  Maybe even invite Xander."  The fact that you couldn't have Xander without having Anya went unsaid.

Willow smiled at the thought.  "I hope he'll be okay with this.  With me."

"You know he will.  He may not be a rocket scientist, but he's pretty damn adaptable.  Especially when it comes to you, Will.  He'd do anything for you; you know that."

It made Willow smile, the fact that they still considered her to be, well, her.  Sometimes she, herself, wasn't so sure.  Things were changing in her mind, and in her life, and even though it was easier to pretend that wasn't the case, she knew it was true.

"Well, I'd better get going.  You know how mom worries," Buffy said, turning and heading to the sidewalk.  "I'll call you tomorrow?"

"Sounds good," Willow agreed, a smile on her face as she watched her friend walk purposefully down the street towards her mother's SUV, her head already moving from side to side as she searched the street for danger.

Willow closed the door, heading back into the living room to clear up the damage from their girl's evening, trying to keep her mind occupied while she waited for Spike's return.

End of Chapter 22

Chapter 23 

The need for violence sizzled in Spike's blood, keying his body up to a fever pitch.  He needed to hurt something, kill something, inflict the maximum amount of damage. 

So he did just that.

There was no discrimination against any type of creature in particular.  Demons of many types felt his ire, as did vampires, both older and newly risen.  By the end of the evening, as he returned home with his leftover possessions from the old crypt, he had more than a half-dozen kills under his belt.  Not bad, he considered.  But just imagine what he could have done without the chip….

Thinking back, he remembered the day that he had finally realized he could hurt other demons without pain.  The joy of victory, of violence and damage yet to be done.

If he hadn't found that out, Spike was sure he would have dusted himself.  Or let someone do it for him.  He'd tried to off himself, he remembered, thinking back to the day that the moron and Red had stopped him from doing just that.

Bit of odd, that was.  If she hadn't stopped him, he wouldn't have been there to turn her.  They both would have been dead, the permanent kind of death where there were no late night violent rampages, and no clickity-clack on that damn computer of hers.

It sobered him a bit, the thought of being gone.  Of being…nothing.  He still wasn't sure if he believed what he'd been told about what happened after you died. 

For example, there were those who though you went straight to hell—end of story.  Others believed that death was merely a resting place, before heading on to something that would be unrecognizable and indescribable to mere mortals.  And of course there where others who took death to be simply the end.  Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

Probably not any point in thinking about it, he decided.  By the time he knew the final answer, it would be too late to do anything.  Best just to live as you wanted and let the chips fall where they may, in the end.

His thoughts wandered back to Willow; his childe.  What was he going to do about her?  Would she be angry when he returned?  Or indifferent?  And did it really matter?

Still in the throes of a mental high, the result of a good spot of violence, he felt confident that she would come to him eventually.  It might take time, but fortunately for him, that was a commodity that he possessed a lot of. 

Impatience, always a vital part of his personality, reared its head, whispering in his ear that he should not have to wait for her to accept him as a part of her life.  Instead, he should take her, remind her that he was her sire, and as such, she should follow his lead.

He considered the notion, not for the first time.  The thought of taking her, forcing her to acknowledge his superiority and submit to him, both excited and aroused him.  But there was another, more stubborn part of him that insisted that she come to him of her own free will.  Wouldn't the victory be that much sweeter, it insisted, if she was his because she wanted to be, not because he forced it to happen? 

Thoughts of Drusilla filled his head; she had been his, for a long time.  Or at least he had thought she was.  But he had been disillusioned when he realized that her heart had always been elsewhere.  He would rather be alone than be second-best again, a replacement, someone to kill time with until the real thing came along.  Better to wait for her, see where her head was before he put himself in a position to be hurt again.  It went against everything he believed in, but maybe, just maybe, that was why it stood a chance of success.

The demon insisted that this was garbage; she was his childe, and he was her sire.  Nothing else mattered.  This was the way it had been done for centuries.  There was no reason to change now.

But she was not just a demon, he acknowledged.  She had a soul, and that made things different, as much as he hated to admit it.  The soul, mixed with her agile mind and her fiercely independent spirit, created a vampire completely unlike any he had encountered before.  She was unique, perhaps even more so than Angel. 

It irked him to admit it, but she was one-of-a-kind.  And because of that, the textbook rules of their existence didn't apply.

Which left him even more confused and uncertain of how to deal with her than he had been before.

It was quiet when he entered the house.  Dawn was less than an hour away, so it made sense for her to have gone to bed already.  With a start of surprise, he realized that instead of going upstairs to the bedroom, she had curled herself into a nearly fetal position on the couch, her head resting on her hands in the universal pantomime of sleep.

There had been company, he noticed, wrinkling his nose in distaste as the Slayer's stench assaulted him.  Oh well, at least there had been someone there to keep her out of trouble.  Pathetic as it was, he would probably have to get used to it.  Such was his life now, where his childe had the Slayer over for tea and crumpets.  He curbed the growl that threatened to erupt.  Now was not the time to get into it.

Considering his options, Spike decided to let her sleep there, walking quietly up the stairs to the bedroom.  There had been no progress in making "his" room habitable, so instead he just shed his clothes onto the floor of "her" room and tumbled into bed naked.

It was early afternoon when Spike woke, mildly surprised to find a sea of red hair filling his vision.  Willow must have wandered upstairs at some point in the morning, slipping into bed fully clothed, her body pressing into his.  He was on his back, his arm around his childe, as she snuggled against him, her head nestled into the space under his chin. 

It was all just too sickeningly sweet for words.

Not his fault.  Not hers either.  They were victims of circumstance.  The excuses cluttered his mind, and some of his anger from the previous night returned.

What was he going to do about it?  Should he yell at her, cursing his fate and the things that brought him to this place?  Brought *them* to this place?  Or would it be best just to ignore his problems, along with his childe, while he figured out what to do to change things?

Spike gently pushed Willow away, smothering a smile at her sleepy snarl of disapproval.  Getting to his feet, he looked down at her for a moment, taking the time to examine her carefully, glad that she wasn't awake to catch him at it. 

In the shadows her hair looked almost black, the color of red faded and leached away by the darkness.  It somehow made her look even younger, even more innocent than she already did.  Although how that was possible, he couldn't even begin to imagine.

The darkness of her hair made her face look like alabaster.  In life it had been fair, but a sprinkle of freckles had dotted her cheeks.  The freckles were gone now; the face was pale as marble.  She was a statue, a piece of art, curled peacefully on his bed.

He was being fanciful, he acknowledged.  Silly as well.  Time to get something to eat before he decided to compose her a sonnet or some such garbage.

Spike stared blankly at the TV, wondering whether he should turn it on, or find something else to do. 

That was the problem with the daytime; cooped up inside, a vampire could either eat, sleep, or fuck.  Or, in his case, eat or sleep.  The third option seemed to be a no-go for now, leaving him with far too much time to think.  Thinking was something that never seemed to work out well for him.

Thankfully, the box full of his possessions beckoned, and he remembered the old Nintendo set he had stolen long ago.  Too bad he hadn't been able to convince the Watcher to get him a new unit.  But this would do for now.

With an almost feral grin, he scooped up the controllers and the box, and quickly went about hooking it up.  He didn't have too many games, but he found one that promised maximum carnage and poked it into the machine, sitting back against the front of the couch and stretching his legs out in front of him.  Might as well be comfortable.

That was how Willow found him two hours later as she made her way downstairs.  Even without the supernatural hearing, she would have heard his grunts of satisfaction and shouts of anger as he played.  It was amusing; in some ways he reminded her of nothing more than an overgrown child.

A child that could have, up until recently, killed everyone she had ever met.  And done it with that same gleeful smile on his face, she reminded herself.

He turned towards her briefly, watching her as she watched him, then turned back to the television just in time to see his game end. 

"Figures," he snorted, shooting her another look, as though blaming her for his misfortune.

"Still in a mood, are we?" she muttered, heading to the kitchen to heat up some lunch.

He ignored her, starting a new round of his game, and she went about fixing her meal.  When she was done, she came to sit on the couch behind him, a little curious to see what he was up to, but unwilling to actually ask.

"Here, give it a try," he said, throwing the words, and a second controller, carelessly over his shoulder.  

Willow examined the controller, holding it tentatively in both hands.  She had played video games before, but always on the computer, using her keyboard to control the movements of the characters.  A controller like this one, much smaller and more mobile, took a bit of getting used to.

"What do I do?"

"See those blokes, the ones with the dripping skin?" he asked, "Well those are zombies.  You shoot to kill.  You're supposed to keep from killing the humans, but I don't usually bother with that.  Shoot everything that moves, and let the game figure out the rest of it."

Act first, figure out the plan later; typical Spike, she thought.  But soon she was playing the game, with Spike's minor modification, and enjoying herself.  The hand-held controller was easy to adapt to, and soon she was killing almost as many zombies, and people, as Spike. 

They talked back and forth, trading boasts that meant nothing, and Willow felt almost comfortable again.  There was still a distance between them, as if serious talk was something best avoided, but at least for now they were pretty much getting along.

The sound of the phone ringing startled them both. They had been so caught up in the battle raging on the TV that nothing else outside of that world had seemed to exist. Both demons emerged momentarily, as eyes flashed yellow and fangs extending slightly.

They stared at each other in surprise, then their eyes shot back to the TV screen.

Again the phone rang.  "You gonna answer that?"

Willow barely gave the phone a glance.  "Might be for you," she countered, fingers pushing constantly to destroy a surprisingly quick-moving horde of zombies.

"Nah, I haven't given the number to anyone.  Probably Slutty."

"Buffy," she insisted, looking back at the phone for a moment and wondering.

"Whatever," Spike dismissed her rebuke, eyes still on the TV.

"Fine, I'll get the phone.  But you'd better put that game on pause.  It's not *my* fault that I have to get up, and I'm not losing any points for it."

Spike rolled his eyes, pushed the 'pause' button, and gave her an annoyed glance.  Moving quickly now, Willow got up and raced back to the kitchen to get the phone.  The minute her back was turned, the vampire pushed the 'pause' button again and continued playing.  Served her right for trying to tell him what to do, he figured.

Besides, it was his game in the first place.  He had only been letting her play because he was a nice guy.

"Hello?" she said as she grabbed the phone, hoping that the call hadn't already gone to their voicemail. 

"Willow?"  It was Buffy, sounding a little bit more comfortable with her, the happy result of their evening spent together.

"Hi Buffy," she greeted, wincing slightly when she heard Spike's triumphant yell, and a muttered, "Take that, you snooty bastard."  He had started the game again, and that pissed her off.

"Hey Willow.  So I was thinking, maybe, you might want to help tonight?  I have to go patrolling, and Giles has some research thingy going on too.  You wanna come?"

Willow considered the offer, grateful for the excuse to get out.  It would seem almost like normal, spending time doing research at Giles' place, seeing Xander, eating junk food and talking about nothing in particular.  Just like they had done a hundred times before.

"Sure, sounds like fun," she agreed eagerly.

"So, you want to do the patrol thing with me?  I bet we could make a wicked team, huh?"

The patrol thing.  Willow hadn't considered that.  Research, yeah, she'd do that.  And gladly.  But patrolling—that was something else entirely.  Stalking demons, well, that wasn't necessarily anything she had a problem with.  But being outside, roaming Sunnydale, in the same part of town where she had been attacked, where she might be seen again by those same members of the Initiative…

"I can't do it," she blurted out, panic setting in and making her pace the kitchen nervously.  "I can't be out there.  Not—it's nothing personal, but I can't, okay?"  Her words were spoken quickly, her tone shaky.  She ran a hand across her forehead, trying not to notice how much it shook.  God, she just had to calm down.  She couldn't freak out like this every time she had to go outside at night.

"Hey, Will, relax, it's no biggie.  I mean, if you're not ready yet, that's okay.  I just thought I'd ask, ya know, since I thought it might be fun.  But research, that's fun too, right?  Yeay research!"

Willow could tell that Buffy was trying her best to cover the awkward moment, and had to smile slightly at the sudden pro-research stance.  "It's okay," she murmured, walking over and sitting down in one of the dining room chairs.  Deep, cleansing breaths were key, she thought.  "I just…you know, what if I saw them again?"  There, the words were out.  She hoped Buffy would understand.

"Oh.  Oh, I get it."  And Buffy did, she realized.  How many times had her friend been tied up, beaten, or mistreated in some way?  By some baddie?  And yet *she* managed to get through it and go back out there every night, even though she knew that her entire life could end, all in the blink of an eye.  How did she do it?

"That's okay.  I mean it.  I didn't realize I was pushing, but I was, so I'll stop now, and we'll just pretend this never happened, right?"

The oppressive panic she felt only moments before seemed to melt away.  A part of her still wanted to hide away from everything and everyone, even Spike, but she knew that wasn't the answer.  It might seem like the best course of action, but in reality it was a dead end.  What she really needed was to get back into life, into her routine.  That alone would help her to overcome what had happened to her.

But she couldn't do that, not really, until they had stopped the Initiative.

"It's okay, Buffy.  I'm—I'm going to be okay, I promise.  It's just going to take some time, you know?"

"I know, Willow," her friend replied, her voice uncharacteristically serious.  "But," she added, sounding perkier, "that doesn't mean we can't still have girl's night out and eat copious amounts of Rocky Road, right?"

That did it; Willow's spirits lifted, and she started to grin.  "Definitely."

"Okay, so we're good here, right?"  There was a note of tentative concern in Buffy's voice that warmed Willow's soul.  What on earth had she done to deserve such a friend?

"Definitely right!"

"Okay, then I'll be there at eight, and I'll personally escort you to Giles' place, where many jelly donuts, and thousands of musty, smelly books, will be waiting for you.  Sound good?"

"Sounds like heaven," she decided.

"Hey, I wouldn't go *that* far," Buffy disagreed, although she didn't sound like she was really interested in arguing about it.

"Thanks, Buffy," she said, meaning it.  I'll see you at eight."

End of Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Willow hung up the phone and looked over at Spike, not at all surprised that he had started playing again without her.  "Oh well, thanks a lot.  Don't wait for me.  I'd only slow you down," she muttered angrily.

"What's that, pet?"  The voice was dangerously quiet.

Stupid vampire hearing, she thought.  Spike knew exactly what she'd said, and the warning tone of his voice told her so.  He was willing to overlook it, one time, but this was his not-so-subtle way of telling her that he wasn't happy about it.

Which left her with two options:  backing down by denying or ignoring her comment, or pushing ahead and repeating it.

"I'm going over to Giles' place tonight," Willow announced instead, walking over and sitting on the couch again.  'Coward,' her demon hissed.  She fought it down, insisting that she hadn't exactly backed off; she had just changed the subject to one that was equally liable to cause problems.

"Excuse me?"  She had his full attention now.

"I said, I'm going over to Giles' place tonight.  Research session.  That was Buffy, calling to invite me."

Spike fought his demon and his temper.  As her sire, he had the right to veto any little get-together she might feel like attending.  Or anything else she did, for that matter.  She knew this too, but seemed to have conveniently forgotten the fact.  He was tempted to remind her—painfully. 

It wouldn't take much effort.  Merely a quick pivot, moving to his feet, then pressing her body down onto the couch as he forced her to submit.  She would never see it coming.

But it was one of those things he was not allowed to do.  Couldn't hurt her, couldn't fuck her, couldn't make her obey him.  "Your funeral," he said, disgusted with himself, as he turned back to the TV set. 

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He rolled his eyes at the TV, taking a moment to attempt to unclench his jaw.  His hand moved to the back of his neck, squeezing and massaging it to relieve the tension. 

"Initiative's still out there, ya know.  They see you, they capture you, they kill you.  Seems pretty obvious to me.  But if you want to go prancing off to see your little friends, then by all means, go right ahead.  Perfectly good blood I wasted, turning you, but hey, there's more where that came from."

"I know they're still out there, Spike.  Kinda hard to forget."  She was silent for a moment, and he chanced a look back at her.  Her face was still, her eyes closed, as if remembering what had happened to her.  "I dream about it, sometimes.  But I have to get over it, and this will help. I think…" the words trailed off uncertainly, and he watched as her eyes opened again, finding himself troubled by the anguish he saw in them. 

"I'll be careful," she said finally, turning her head from his embarrassing scrutiny.  "Buffy's coming to pick me up, and she'll walk me home too, so I'm sure it'll be okay."  Willow got up, brushing her hair back from her forehead nervously.  "I'd better go and get ready.  She'll be here in a little while."

The redhead left the room quickly, as if she half-expected him to try and stop her. 

Spike let her go, turning back to his game, trying to put everything else out of his mind.

Buffy appeared at the appointed time, wearing her usual slaying uniform: tight, short black skirt with a nearly see-through top.  Willow breathed a sigh of relief when she realized that Spike had left sometime during the last hour, probably the moment the sun had moved below the horizon.  That was fine with her…it just made things easier.

They made their way quickly to Giles' apartment, both searching the shadows as they went.  In less than ten minutes, the building was comfortably within sight.  

The first thing Willow saw as she walked in the door saw was Xander, half a jelly donut stuffed into his mouth.  The sight of the red raspberry jelly on his lips reminded the demon of blood, and it ached to taste some of his.

Willow fought with the demon, who gave up with only a cursory protest.  She felt more in control all the time, and the fact added a lightness to her step that didn't go unnoticed.

"Hi, everyone.  I'm here to help."  She grabbed a book from a pile on the coffee table and sat down on the couch, giving Xander and Anya a grin.

"Oh, hello Willow," Giles welcomed as he made his way down the stairs.  "I'm glad you could join us tonight."

"Hey!" Buffy whined, looking back at Xander.  "You were supposed to wait until Willow got here before you ate all the donuts!"  She shot a look at Giles, as if expecting him to referee.  "He promised!"

Through a mouth full of cakey goodness, Xander tried to defend himself.  "She's here!  I saw her walk in with you.  Therefore, donut in mouth!"

The words sounded more like, "Shwes zere!  Izaw er yalk in wizoo.  Zerefur dona in maw," but the general idea got across.  Giles shook his head in disgust and Buffy grabbed a donut of her own, sitting down next to Willow on the couch.

"You can't fault his logic," Anya called over to them, standing up for her man, no matter what.

"Ya want?" Buffy offered to her friend, holding the sticky donut in her hand. 

Willow watched Giles flinch as a dollop of red jelly oozed from the end of the donut, destined to splatter all over the upholstery of his couch.  Before it could hit its target, she shot out her hand, catching the jelly and saving the couch.  Giles relaxed visibly.

"Thank you, Willow."  He handed Buffy a paper napkin.  "If you must eat on my furniture, please use a napkin, Buffy.  If it's not too much to ask?"

Willow hid a smile and contemplated the jelly still all over her hand.  She hadn't eaten anything—well, any human food—since she became a vampire.  When Buffy had been over the previous day with ice cream, she had looked at it and thought about it, but had finally decided to give it a pass.  She just wasn't sure whether food and vampires were all that mix-y.

Spike seemed to eat human food occasionally; in fact, he'd professed a fondness for chicken wings on at least one occasion.  But just how much and how often he ate, she had no idea. 

Did it taste the same now, as it did before?  Or would her tastes have changed?  Only one way to find out, she supposed.  Willow poked out her tongue, running it hesitantly over the sticky surface of her hand. 

Her eyes opened wide in surprise as the taste buds on her tongue exploded.  The sweet substance tasted exactly the same, only a hundred times stronger.  It was similar to the difference between a whisper and a scream, only for her mouth.  She marveled at it, losing herself in the taste, wondering how the sensation could be so much more intense. 

Weren't her taste buds supposed to be dead, right along with the rest of her?  It didn't make any sense.  Then again, what did these days?

She looked up to see them all watching her curiously, and ducked her head in embarrassment.  Oh well, at least she didn't have to worry about blushing anymore.

"What is it?" Buffy asked curiously.

"I just—I wasn't sure whether I'd like it.  Now, I mean.  Because of the whole…"

"Because you're dead now?" Anya chimed in helpfully.  Xander shot her a look, trying to head her off at the pass before she said anything else.

"What?  It's true.  She's a vampire now, so technically speaking, she *is* dead."

"Yes, Anya, we all understand that it's true," Giles said.  "But just because it's true, doesn't mean that you have to say it out loud.  You do understand that, don't you?"

Willow became even more embarrassed, if that was possible.  She *was* dead, and hearing Anya say it really didn't bother her.  At least, not much.  Watching both males chastising her for saying a simple truth, though, that troubled her.

"Anya's not bothering me," Willow insisted, raising her eyes to meet Giles'.  "I'm dead, just like she said.  That's a fact.  And you wouldn't jump all over her if she said that the sky was blue, would you?  Because that's another fact, too." 

It took Willow a moment to figure out where this unusual Anya sympathy was coming from.  Oddly enough, she *identified* with the other woman.  They were both people who had experienced severe, life-changing situations, and they were trying their best to adapt.  Maybe Anya wasn't faring as well at it as she was.  Or maybe she was doing better.  Willow supposed it depended on who was doing the judging, and what criteria they were using to measure it.

Giles and Xander both looked a bit flabbergasted at her unexpected defense of Anya, but quickly hid it and managed to look a bit sheepish.  "I apologize, Anya.  Do forgive me."  Giles' words were mostly for show; Willow didn't really believe that he really meant them, but at least it was something.

Xander put his arm around his girlfriend, giving her a squeeze, and a sappy, apologetic face.  "Sorry, honey."

"It's okay.  Um, thanks, Willow."  Anya seemed a little surprised to find support from such an unexpected quarter, but was grateful all the same.  "For a dead person, you're still very nice," she added, her face completely serious. 

Willow smiled at Anya, then looked back at Giles.  "So, what's the big research party about?  And can someone get me a donut?  A soda too?  I'm dying—um, well, I'm really curious to see what everything else tastes like.  If it's as good as I think it is, I'm gonna kick Spike's ass.  He should have told me that food tasted *this* good!"

"And just think, you can eat as much as you want, and never gain a pound!" Anya chimed in excitedly.

Buffy looked a little jealous when she heard that.  "Suddenly unlife is looking like the way to go."

Willow grinned, "I'm sure Spike would be happy to help you with that," she admitted, forgetting to think before she spoke.  It was a problem she had sometimes.  "Oops!  Not really.  You know what I mean," she mumbled uncomfortably.

"Hey," Buffy said, putting a hand on Willow's shoulder, "It's okay.  I know Spike and I aren't exactly friends.  But I can put up with him.  We all can, if it makes things easier for you."

"But if he's ever mean to you, or you get tired of him, just promise me that I get to be the one to stake him, okay?"  Xander gave her a smile, but she knew he was serious.  Time to clear the air a bit.

"Guys, I know this is weird, and kind of hard to explain, but Spike's been really good to me."  Xander and Buffy in particular looked skeptical at her claim.  "Well, we're not best buddies or anything.  We have our disagreements.  But he's really helping me.  So can we lay off on the 'Spike staking' jokes?" 

"Yeah, if I have to," Xander muttered.  Buffy merely nodded, although she looked disappointed as well.

"I suppose I should go patrol," Buffy announced, sensing that the time for Spike-bashing had passed.  "I'll be back here by midnight to walk you home, Willow.  Sound about right?"

"Yeah, thanks Buffy.  Hey Giles, what am I looking for, anyway?"  Willow held up her book, eager to get the attention back onto research, the reason they were all here anyway.

"Oh, it's quite interesting, really," he saw the skeptical looks directed at him from Anya and Xander.  "Really, it is.  There's a prophecy—"

"That kind of goes without saying," Xander added, giving Willow a wink.

"If I may continue?"  At the nod from Xander, "Gernius of Hanover wrote this in his memoirs, back in 1537.  He said that there would be a volcano in the vale of the sun, and that evil would be belched forth from the volcano, and darkness would spread across the land."

"Ooh, ooh, I know this one!" Willow exclaimed excitedly, raising her hand high, as if waiting for the teacher to call on her.

"Willow, you're no longer in school.  You don't have to raise your hand, you know."

"Oops, sorry Giles, it's just reflex, ya know?  When you do that 'teacher' voice, I just feel like I'm back in school again.  But I get it…a vale is like a dale, and the dale of the sun is Sunnydale.  Right?"

"Gold star for the Willster.  Even as a vampire, she's still smarter than me!" Xander announced, not seeming the least bit upset to learn he was still low rung on the ladder.

"Yes, well, essentially you are correct, Willow.  And of course the volcano would equate to the hellmouth.  So we have a hellmouth, erm, belching evil.  And darkness spreading across the land."

"Why can't evil ever take a holiday?" Xander moaned, clutching the sides of his head and rocking from side to side.

"Oh, it does," Anya confirmed eagerly.  "It's just that when evil goes on holiday, it usually comes to Sunnydale."

Willow couldn't help it, she laughed so hard she actually snorted soda out her nose.  Huh, she thought.  It was good to know that some things never changed.

End of Chapter 24

Chapter 25

The research party crept on along the same lines it usually did.  Once everybody was settled, books firmly in hand, Buffy went out to cruise the cemeteries, promising Willow that she would be back before midnight to be her escort home.  The redhead thanked her, and before long she managed to lose herself in one of Giles' eighteenth century books on witches, and the finding and testing thereof.  Several times she found herself stifling laughter, or swallowing groans of dismay, as she read about how witches had been misunderstood back then.  Well, not that they were completely understood now, she admitted.  But progress had been made.

"Okay, I need fuel," Xander groaned, getting to his feet and heading for the front door.  "Taco run.  Who wants?"

"I'm good," Willow muttered without looking up, having already had a couple donuts, several dill pickles, and a bowl of ice cream.  She had considered it more of an experiment than anything, testing the various flavors and textures, deciding what she did and didn't like.

The vanilla ice cream had been almost *too* sweet, the sugary flavor so suffocating that she almost missed the vanilla.  The creamy texture was soft and seductive though, and the way that it didn't melt immediately on her cool tongue made eating it quite a different experience than it had been when she was alive.  The dill pickles had been a counterpoint, salty, zesty and crunchy, and just as delicious in their own way as the ice cream.  The flavors had exploded on her tongue, overwhelming her with their strength.

Unfortunately, all that food was making her slightly queasy, and she wasn't exactly sure why.  Perhaps it was because she was a vampire, and her system, such as it was, was rebelling to the addition of something foreign.  Or maybe the pickles had simply been a bad idea.  If Spike wasn't being a butthead when she got home, she'd ask him what he thought. 

Giles gave Xander a long-suffering look.  Obviously the Watcher had seen through his ploy, and knew that the real reason he was leaving was because he was tired of researching.  "I have plenty of food here, Xander.  You are more than welcome to eat whatever is in the kitchen.  There's no need to venture outside."

Xander considered the offer for a moment, and then shook his head.  "No offense, Giles, but that stuff isn't food.  Most of it is cardboard with flavoring sprinkled on. Or worse."  He gave a delicate shudder at some of the things he had seen in the Watcher's refrigerator.  Tripe was something that belonged inside a cow, and not on the dinner plate, as far as he was concerned.

"Fine," Giles mumbled.  "Go, then.  Just be careful."  To Willow and Anya he added, "I'm going to look for the Fendagular compendium.  I believe I put it upstairs, somewhere.  To keep Buffy from using it as a paperweight, if I remember correctly."

"Anything for you, oh light of my life?" Xander asked Anya.

"No, you go.  Get back quick so we can finish this and go home.  Oh, maybe bring back some of those crunchy cheesy things."

"Oh, the orange fingers of love…Cheetos it is."

Willow set her concentration back onto her book, ignoring the kissy faces that the couple shared before Xander finally headed out the door.  Once the room returned to its usual quiet, she assumed that Xander had gone, and that it was just she and Anya.

Anya…she remembered the last time she had been alone with the woman, and the rather personal questions the ex-demon had pelted her with.  Oh hell, it was going to happen again, she could feel it.

Willow buried her head deeper into the book, trying to make herself as small and easy to ignore as possible.  It would never work; she acknowledged that.  But she felt like she at least had to give it a try.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Anya gazing curiously at her, and tried to look even more enthralled with her reading than she had before. 

The conversation was inevitable.  She could see it, looming in the distance like a massive train wreck about to happen.  But all she could do was acknowledge it.  There was no way of avoiding it.

"So…" Anya said, an opening volley meant to grab Willow's attention.

She gave Anya a quick look before setting her eyes back onto her book.  It was an acknowledgement, and nothing more.

Anya was nothing if not persistent.  A lack of response certainly wasn't going to deter her from asking questions.  "How are you and Spike getting along?"

Willow sighed, putting the book on the couch next to her.  Her eyes drifted down to the carpeted floor as she considered her answer.  "Do we have to do this now?" she asked plaintively. 

Anya straightened up in her chair, much more serious and alert.  "Yes." she insisted firmly.  "If we wait until later, then all the others will be here, and you won't tell me all of the good stuff."

"You're assuming that there *is* good stuff," Willow muttered, looking longingly up the stairs in hopes that Giles would find his damn book and come back downstairs to interrupt this inquisition.

But Willow was realistic enough to know that Giles would not be coming down for a while yet.  Not until Anya had pried every last embarrassing detail from her.  It was just the way that her luck was going these days.

"Of course there's good stuff," Anya exclaimed, her enthusiasm bubbling over as she sensed a confidence about to be spilled.  She got up and shot across the room like a bullet, ending up sitting on the couch next to Willow.  Giles would have been horrified at the way Anya had casually tossed the ancient book Willow was reading to the ground.  But he wasn't there, so it served him right, actually.  Maybe next time he'd think twice before he left her alone with her nosy companion.

Willow pondered her situation.  Anya would undoubtedly prod, push, and pull, until she was satisfied that she knew everything there was to know about the vampires' relationship.  That much was a given.

But maybe…and she couldn't believe she was thinking this, maybe Anya could help her.  The woman *was* a former demon.  She had centuries of experience dealing with demons.  And since Spike, and now Willow herself, were demons, maybe she could explain why Spike was acting like such a dick.

Keenly aware of Anya's heavy gaze upon her, like a tiger waiting to pounce on an unwary mouse, Willow felt more and more rushed.  She resented being forced to make the decision, and anger stirred in her when she looked at Anya. 

Her words, when she finally spoke them, were short and angry.  "We’re not speaking.  Not really."

"We’re not?  Why aren't we?  I mean, you were nice to me earlier.  I thought we were friends.  I even told you that you were a nice person, for a vampire."  The woman seemed unsure whether to be angry, hurt, or merely puzzled.

It took Willow a moment to realize that Anya, with her literal, straightforward way of thinking, had misunderstood what Willow said to her.  She sighed, running a hand through her hair to push it back from her face.  "No," she ground out finally, "Spike and I.  We're not really speaking.  And I don't know why."

"Oh!"  Understanding dawned in Anya's eyes as she listened to Willow's words.  Problems between the new vampire and her sire.  And Willow was giving her an opportunity to help.  The thought surprised and excited her. 

They had never been close.  Something about her candor had always bothered Xander's friends, and around Willow in particular there had been a certain measure of reserve on both their parts.  The main thing that they had in common, Xander, seemed to push them away from each other, instead of bringing them closer.

They had roles they played, defined by their relationship to Xander.  Anya was the girlfriend, and Willow was the other woman.  There had been something between them, once upon a time.  Perhaps it had been a kind of experimentation, brought on by the fact that they had known each other for what seemed like forever.  Or maybe it had been driven by circumstance.  Whatever the cause, warning bells always went off in Anya's head whenever Willow got too close.

But things seemed different now.  Willow wasn't the threat she had been before.  Maybe it was because of Spike.  No matter what, Spike would never let go of what was his.  And whether the rest of them realized it yet or not, Willow belonged to Spike.  Blood was blood, and hers flowed in his veins.  And vice versa.

The realization that she might be able to help Willow adjust to her new life filled her with a sense of uncertainty.  Could she help?  Did she want to?  If she gave advice, would Willow even listen?  As a human, she had always been incredibly stubborn and independent.  Help was rarely something she asked for, and certainly never from Anya.  But Willow was a vampire now, and the changes were already taking place, turning her into a new person, even though the soul ensured that she retained much of her human personality.

Anya thought she might have an idea why the two vampires were having problems.  Whether her advice would be taken seriously was doubtful.  But it couldn't hurt to try.

"Biter's remorse?" Willow asked incredulously, sounding slightly bewildered at the phrase.  "Is that—is that like buyer's remorse?"

"Oh yes," Anya affirmed, nodding her head eagerly.  Buying things, and the remorse people sometimes felt after the fact, was something the little capitalist was infinitely familiar with.  "It's exactly like that.  Only with biting.  Giles asked Spike to bite you, and now Spike is wondering if he did the right thing."

Willow closed her eyes, attempting to give the matter more than just the cursory thought she truly wanted to.  Was that really the problem?  Was Spike sorry he had turned her?  Certainly they had issues; they weren't the Ozzie and Harriet of vampires by a long shot.  But it wasn't that bad…was it?

Besides, there was the Drusilla issue, always in the background, but rarely mentioned.  She knew Spike still had feelings for his dark princess.  So how did *she* fit into that complicated equation?

"If you had a normal relationship, you would have slept together a LOT by now," Anya continued, undaunted by Willow's silence.  "Vampires like sex.  I mean, who doesn't, right?  But they use it for lots of things.  Pleasure, discipline, as a show of dominance, all of that.  But Buffy would use his balls as a Christmas tree ornament if he even looked at you sideways, and he knows that.  So he's beginning to wonder if he didn't make a mistake after all."  She sat back primly on the couch, smoothing her skirt down over her knees, her appearance oddly incongruous to the subject matter she was spouting.  "At least, that's how I see it," she finished up, just as Giles appeared at the top of the stairs.

Willow did her best not to betray the emotions she was feeling to Giles' searching gaze.  She could tell that he knew something important had happened in his absence, but was unsure exactly what, if anything, he should do about it.  "Is everything…" his question trailed off uncertainly as he took in the confusion that seemed to cover Willow like a blanket.

Giles cleared his throat nervously, before settling on the most likely source of trouble.  "Anya, what have you done?" he asked uncertainly, his gaze darting back and forth between the almost self-satisfied Anya, and a rather bewildered Willow.

"Willow and I were bonding," she explained.  "Girl stuff.  Talking about men.  That kind of stuff.  I can't tell you about it because, well, you're not a girl.  Plus, you tend to get that rather constipated look on your face whenever I bring up sex.  And then you usually get angry." 

Giles gave Anya a look that Willow recognized as a prelude to a lecture, and possibly a serious scolding as well.  She tried to head him off before he reached full stuffy Watcher mode.  "So Giles, did you find your book?" she asked innocently, shoving her doubts aside.  She could consider Anya's theory, and do some deep self-examination, later on.  Right now, there were more important things to deal with.  Like averting an angry Giles from berating an almost gloating Anya.

Fortunately for Willow, a knock at the door grabbed their attention, and Giles somewhat gratefully went over to answer it. 

His relief was short-lived, however, when he saw who stood at the threshold.  It was Spike, and judging by the scowl on his face, he didn't look particularly cheerful.

"Come to collect my childe," he drawled, brushing past Giles and scanning the room for the redhead.  "C'mon," he ordered.  "Time to get going."

End of Chapter 25

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