Title: My New Life
Sequel to My Other Life
Author: Kat, a.k.a. KallieRose
E-mail: [email protected]
Rating: So far PG, may go to R or 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: Sequel to My Other Life; there's a new master vampire in town.  How will his plans affect Willow and Spike?  

My New Life (cont.)

Sequel to My Other Life

Willow stared in bemused silence at the demon free-for-all that seemed to be taking place around them as they quickly headed towards the door. Her eyes scanned the faces and bodies around her, amazed at the number and variety of creatures fighting. Finally her eyes caught the shock of white hair that she had unconsciously been seeking, and her wide green eyes met the crystal blue ones of Spike. 

There was something hiding there in the depths his eyes, something different and somewhat frightening. And then it was gone; disappeared so quickly that she wasn't sure it had ever been there in the first place. She gave him a small, nervous smile, and then scooted out the door behind Buffy and Xander.

They walked quietly through the night, the cool evening air feeling even colder against her flushed skin. Finally the silence became oppressive, and Willow felt relieved when someone finally spoke.

"So what was with the demon freak-show?" Xander asked. "I mean, not that I'm not grateful for the rescue, mind you. Although I'm sure that I would have gotten us out of trouble soon. I was working on this plan..."

Giles snorted out loud, earning him an amused glance from Buffy. 

"So Xander," the blonde teased, "In what way was sticking your tongue down Willow's throat part of that plan? Hoping to distract the guards by choking her, maybe?"

"Buffy," Willow admonished softly, "He was just helping me to feel a little less scared. If anyone was to blame for our behavior, it's me."

The slayer was immediately contrite. "I'm sorry, Wills, it's just that we came in guns a-blazin', and figured we were helping, and then we were a little surprised at the reception we got." 

"I understand, Buffy, I really do. And god knows I'm grateful for the save. I guess your timing just could have been a little better," Willow said ruefully. "Not that I'm really complaining, mind you!" She stopped for a moment, trying to remember something. "But you never answered Xander's question. What was with all those demons? And, oh! How did you know where we were so quickly?"

There was silence for a moment. Buffy loathed admitting that Spike had actually helped them out, and was trying to figure out some other way to explain things. Giles was the one who finally enlightened them.

"It was Spike, actually," the watcher told them. "He overheard the vampire who came to tell Buffy about the kidnapping. They were trying to lure her into coming to get you, of course. At any rate, Spike followed this vampire back to that house, and after a little bit of reconnaissance, he came back and told us what he had seen. From there, he called up some of his, er, acquaintances, and we went and 'stormed the castle,' as it were."

"Spike?" Xander asked, incredulous. "Our Spike? As in Spike-y the neutered wonder? Now why the hell would he do something like that?"

"Xander!" Willow gasped. "Admittedly he's not always so nice, and, well, yeah, he tried to kill us before, a lot," she said. "But, damn, where was I going with this?" she stopped for a moment, lost in thought, "Oh! But he did save us, so--so be nice!"

Giles smiled paternally at her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. Buffy and Xander merely exchanged unhappy glances, silently promising each other that they would discuss this at a later date.

Before long they reached Willow's house, and bid their friend goodnight. Willow had never been quite so glad to see her house, even though her parents were gone and it was empty once again. She climbed the stairs and threw herself upon her bed. The adrenaline that had seen her through the rest of her day had deserted her now, and before she could even consider the events of the evening, she was fast asleep and dreaming.

Willow arrived late at the Magic Box the next evening. She had a paper due on the political system of 1790's France, and decided that spending time in the library would be better than trying to research online. The quiet and order of the library was a welcome change to the chaos that had been her life lately, and so she lingered perhaps a little longer than was strictly necessary. But all too soon, the darkening sky told her that it was time to meet her friends and discuss the day's events. 

She hoped that they would have a chance to talk a little more about the previous evening as well. Both she and Xander owed Spike a debt of gratitude, although she doubted she would ever get her friend to do more than give an insincere thanks. Still, she could, and would find some way to repay Spike. Maybe she could find a way to 'liberate' some human blood from the blood bank, or...her mind searched for other possible ways to thank her friend.

"Hey Wills," the voices called to her as she entered the shop. She gave a quick smile at Spike, who merely looked back at her, an unreadable expression on his face. Her eyes passed quickly to Xander and Buffy, who were sitting at the table as usual. Xander was stuffing a Twinkie in his mouth, or was it a ho-ho? Willow was never quite sure which was which. Meanwhile, Buffy was painting her nails. Willow looked at the slayer in horror as she realized that the book the blonde was resting the fingernail polish on was one of Giles' rare compendiums, but Buffy seemed oblivious. 

"Buffy," she sighed, rescuing the book from the polish-happy slayer. 

"What? I needed something to rest my hand on while I was polishing!" she insisted, holding up her hand to examine the color. "What do you think, Wills? Is it too red? I was looking for something that would say 'I've killed before and I'll kill again' but maybe this is too much?"

Willow took Buffy's hand for a moment and examined the color. "No, I think that's about right," she confirmed, releasing Buffy's hand and moving to carefully place the compendium back in the stacks. She grabbed a copy of one of the Anne Rice books and gave it to Buffy. "Here, this is much better suited for your purposes."

Buffy gave her a pitying look, but took the proffered book and placed the nail polish down squarely in the middle of it.

Turning her attention towards her vampire friend, Willow went to sit down in the lounge chair next to Spike. He gave her another of his blank looks, but Willow plunged on ahead, not deterred in the slightest.

"Giles told me what you did for us last night," she started breathlessly, her nerves aflutter at his expressionless stare, "And I wanted to thank you. You--you saved our lives, and I'm really grateful. Xander is too, aren't you Xander," she gave the brunette a stare, daring him to disagree.

"Yeah, thanks," the youth mumbled, stuffing another snack food cake into his mouth and turning back to roll his eyes at Buffy.

"Whatever," the blond vampire muttered sullenly, refusing to meet Willow's eyes. "If I'd known you two were havin' a snog-fest, I'd have let you go to it and not bothered."

Willow sighed, hating to have to explain the situation yet again, but she plowed ahead. "Spike, we were *not* having a snog-fest. We were just scared and, well, what we were doing helped us to feel a little less scared."

"Well you should have known that I'd come after you. There was no reason to be worried. Hell, if we had got there another half hour later, who knows what we'd have interrupted?" Willow could see a cold anger building in his eyes, yet she had no idea what she had done to incur it. 

"Spike..." she called out, watching in confusion as he jumped to his feet and headed out the door, the bell jangling irately behind him. 

Willow looked at her friends, unhappy and confused. "I don't understand it," she said, her eyes beginning to tear up. "Why is he so angry?"

Buffy and Xander exchanged solemn glances, knowing that this was their opportunity to sow a little discontent between the vampire and their friend. There was no way they were ever going to let Willow have anything to do with Spike. He would only end up hurting her. They were doing this for her own good, they told themselves.

Buffy walked to where Willow stood despondently, enveloping her in a hug. "Will, surely you know that Spike is obsessed with you."

"Huh?" The oblivious woman stared at her two friends in shock.

"Well yeah," Xander agreed quickly, "He's been crazy about you for a while now. Obsessive, possessive, you name it. It's kind of creepy."

"But--but I told him I wasn't interested," Willow wailed. "I mean, I know he was interested, but we talked, and-and it was okay. He said we could be friends!" She didn't know what to think now. Had he lied to her when he said he would be interested in just being her friend? Was he just biding his time until he could seduce her? How could he do that to her?

A slow-building anger began to kindle in her, as she left the shop in search of the blond vampire.

Spike downed another shot of whiskey, wincing slightly as the strong liquid burned its way down his throat. 'Strong, but not strong enough,' he thought. Better have a couple - make that three or four - more. He motioned for the bartender, who hurried in his direction.

"I'll just buy the bottle, why don't I, Willie?"

The bartender took a look at the troubled vampire, taking in the snarled lip and the alcohol-dulled pain in his eyes. He considered trying to use some of his 'barside manner.' He considered it for all of five seconds, before deciding that that would probably lead to him gaining several new holes in his body, in unusual places. 

"Sure, Spike," Willie replied, opening a fresh bottle of the good stuff, and setting it before the unhappy customer before him. "I'll just add it to your tab."

Spike grunted his thanks, then turned in his chair, his eyes taking in the other customers. Looked like a slow night; the only other patrons were a half-dozen lobster-red demons sitting in the far corner, who seemed to be indulging in some manner of card game. Spike considered going to join in, but cards and massive amounts of alcohol didn't really mix. Not unless you were actively trying to lose your money, that is.

Instead, he turned himself back towards the bar and poured another drink. He tossed that one back quickly as well, enjoying the warm, comforting glow that the alcohol added to both his mind and his body. Several more drinks made their way past his lips, and soon he was feeling much better. In fact, if he tried quite hard, he could even pretend that he didn't even know a little redheaded witch named Willow.

The door opened and closed, but Spike paid little notice to it. He was too busy in his pursuit to become comfortably numb. Hmmm...that reminded him of a song, he thought, and his brain scurried to remember the words.

His attention was brought back to the bar rather abruptly when a tall, dark-haired man sank down onto the stool next to him. An entire empty bar, and the git had to take the seat next to him, he groused silently. He'd probably want to talk or something, too, the bastard. Spike considered leaving then, just taking the bottle with him and heading out into the night. But damn it, he had gotten here first, and he was damned if he was going to leave just because some moron wouldn't leave him alone.

So he sat there, sulkily nursing his drink, and waiting for the other man to speak. He didn't have long to wait.

"So, you are Spike? I am Marco," the other man said by way of introduction. 

The name punched a hole through Spike's alcohol-induced fog, and he brought his suddenly sober eyes to bear on the man next to him. The vampire next to him. Sure enough, this was the man that had captured Willow and Xander, sitting right beside him, as polite as can be. He wondered what sort of game the other vampire was playing.

"I ought to be quite angry with you," the dark-haired vampire continued, his voice oddly civil; almost friendly. "I had such a marvelous plan, and you brought it all tumbling down around my head." Marco stopped for a moment, looking curiously at Spike, perhaps waiting for a reply, or perhaps just hoping to create a dramatic pause. 

"Yeah, well Sunnydale tends to do that to a plan," Spike admitted, thinking back to a couple of his own 'marvelous plans', which always seemed to end with the slayer kicking his arse. Why the hell did he stay here again? Then he remembered the beautiful young woman with the sweet, friendly smile, who couldn't stand to swat a fly, and yet staked vampires almost nightly. Ah, yes, *that* was why he stayed. 

Marco watched the emotions that flickered across the other vampire's face. Truth be told, he was quite curious as to why this vampire fought against him. He was obviously a master vampire - that much could be felt just by standing next to him. So why did he help the slayer? "So, may I ask why you fought against me?" he asked, waiting curiously to see if Spike would indulge his curiosity.

Shooting a glance at the stranger next to him, Spike debated his options. His pleasant buzz from a few minutes ago was long gone, the man next to him having driven it away. He could still leave and attempt to reclaim that wonderful state of oblivion elsewhere, or he could stay and see what this git had to say. Maybe there was something in it for him? The man had obviously been seeking him out, and he certainly didn't seem to be angry or bitter about their previous meeting.

"You took something that was mine," Spike finally replied, deciding to play along and see what happened. He gave the other vampire a steely look, his eyes hard and slightly angry. "I was just retrieving it."

"Something that was yours," the dark vampire murmured contemplatively, lacing his fingers together and setting them on the bar in front of him. "I didn't see any bite marks on either of them, not that I really looked long and hard, of course. I had other plans for them. But you say that one of them is yours?" He cocked an eyebrow at the other vampire, waiting for a response.

"The redhead," Spike said, tension invading his previously calm voice. "She's mine. I can't claim her...yet."

"Ah, yes, that would be because of the chip. That nasty little piece of plastic inside your head." Marco laughed loudly and fearlessly, and Spike shot him a glare. "Oh yes, I've done my homework. I know all about your, well, 'performance problem.' Quite a shame, really. A once-strong vampire reduced to the status of a mere mortal, simply because of a tiny little piece of plastic. Reminds me of your sire, who lost his way all because he ate a gypsy."

The only response from Spike was a low growl and a murderous glare. Finally he bit out the words, "I am NOTHING like my sire."

"Well, no offense intended, I'm sure," Marco said genially, leaning forward and setting his elbows on the bar. His midnight blue eyes sparkled with merriment, as they met furious crystal blue ones. "It must be awful," he added, giving the blond vampire a look of false sympathy. "Especially when you want so badly to claim the young woman."

"Bugger off," Spike muttered, becoming tired of this conversation. He stood up to leave, pushing his body away from the bar.

"Now, now, don't go off angry!" his companion exclaimed, standing as well and putting a hand on the blond's shoulder. 

Spike growled again, and his demon face slid to the fore. Marco's face changed as well, but he removed his hand from the other's shoulder, holding both hands up in front of him in a placating gesture.

"Please, let's both sit back down. I have a proposition to make you, actually, and it would be a lot more difficult to tell you about it by yelling it at your retreating back," Marco said with a smile that touched his lips, but never his eyes.

Giving the matter a moment of thought, Spike finally made up his mind and sat back down. His body was tense, as though he was ready to leave at the slightest provocation. "What kind of proposition?" he asked uncertainly.

"Perhaps it would be better described as an alliance," Marco said, his body relaxing slightly. "You help me, I help you, and everybody benefits."

"In what way can you help me?" Spike asked distrustfully, sitting up just a bit straighter on the barstool. He looked the other vampire in the eye, searching for signs of treachery, or even worse, mockery.

"I could take care of that pesky piece of plastic that's been bothering you lately," he replied smugly. "It just so happens that I turned a doctor yesterday. He's newly risen, and is quite eager to gain favor with me. Seems he used to be neurosurgeon. Such a coincidence," the mocking voice continued, "And if you were interested in joining forces with me, I'd be sufficiently grateful to loan him to you for a day."

Marco leaned forward, pinning the blond with his eyes. "Imagine it, Spike," his voice was seductively smooth, his words nearly a whisper, "You would be one of us again. Able to feed at will, kill at will, take what you want, claim who you want, when you want to." He leaned back then, waiting for a reply.

Spike sat back, stunned. What he had wanted for so very long was being handed to him on a silver platter. A life free of pain; well, free from *that* kind of pain, at least. There was always the other type of pain, the type that he craved. He savored the moment, imagining the little redhead writhing beneath him as he brought her to climax, her nails drawing long bloody trails down his back. Now *that* kind of pain was something he would enjoy.

"So what exactly is it that you need me to do for you?" he asked, curiosity and hope finally getting the better of him.

"Something that I'm sure you'll enjoy," Marco answered smugly. "I'm working on a little ritual, actually. And I need the energy of a mystical being. A witch would probably be best, but I haven't found any of them powerful enough to work. But a slayer would work as well. It would leave her a vegetable afterwards, but I don't imagine that she'd last that long anyway. A slayer without all her faculties would be easy prey for any vampire that comes along."

Keeping his face carefully blank, Spike gave the matter some thought. He had always figured he would be the one to kill Buffy. Lord knows he had tried often enough. But taking down a slayer who was a few bricks short of a load, well, there wasn't much of a challenge in that. But the thought of being without the chip again, now that was an idea that he could get behind. He allowed a slow, evil smile to cross his face.

"If we were to find you a witch, what would it do to her? The ritual, I mean."

"A true witch, well, there would be no lasting effect, other than the loss of her magical abilities. She would just be the same as any other human."

"Well, Marco," Spike said with a wintry smile, "You've come to the right demon then. My redhead? She's quite a talented little witch. If you can prove to me that this ritual won't harm her, I might be inclined to deliver her to you. As long as it is understood that once this thing is done, she leaves with me as well."

A smile that matched Spike's own glowed on Marco's face as he thought about Spike's offer. "I had her right in my hands, and didn't even know it," he said ruefully. "Very well, I'll have the text of the ritual delivered to you tomorrow shortly after sundown. As soon as you're satisfied, contact me and we'll proceed from there."

"Sounds fair to me, mate," Spike said, his face once again a smooth emotionless mask. He had gone from the darkest mood to jubilation in the course of a half-hour, and the changes that were still to come made him almost giddy with excitement, but he knew better than to let those emotions show on his face. 

Spike left the bar then and headed for parts unknown, the bottle of whiskey grasped firmly, but ignored for now. Some serious thinking needed to be done, and he wanted *all* of his faculties about him when he did it. This was one plan that he didn't want the hellmouth sending awry. 

Willow stalked the streets of Sunnydale, the anger she had previously felt beginning to cool slightly as time went by. She looked for Spike in all his familiar haunts, but had yet to find the object of her search. 

The Bronze was teeming with activity, but nobody had seen him there. She also checked a couple of bars that he seemed to frequent, but with no luck. Even several of Sunnydale's busier cemeteries were visited, all without result. Finally she stopped by Willie's, which was where she hit paydirt: he had left there only about an hour previously.

Politely thanking Willie, she headed back into the night. 

After leaving Willie's, Willow had assumed that Spike would head back to the Magic Box, and the comfort of a warm bed. Apparently she was mistaken. She used the key that Giles had given her for emergencies, and slipped silently into the store. It was dark and empty, devoid of activity. Apparently Giles, Buffy and Xander had decided to call it a night and head home. Spike's rooms were empty as well, so he had obviously not headed here, as she had expected.

Willow stood outside of the store and sighed. Her anger at the vampire was quickly cooling, and wandering around the streets of Sunnydale late at night searching for a vampire was really not one of the smartest things to do anyway, so she decided to go home and get some much-needed sleep. 

As she quickly traversed the distance between the Magic Box and her home, Willow's thoughts went back again to Spike, as they often did. Now that her anger was dissipated, she was able to think clearly and rationally about what she was going to say to him, once she *did* find him.

What exactly did she want to say? What points did she want to make?

Well, first of all, she wanted him to know how angry she was that he had lied to her. He had promised to be her friend, and now she found out that underneath all of that faux friendship, he was still trying to get her into bed. She felt angry, sad and betrayed by his actions. It had been weird at first, but she really had tried to treat him like a friend, and give their *friendly* relationship a chance. To know now that all his actions had merely been a trick to gain her confidence really hurt her.

More baffling still was why he even wanted a relationship with her in the first place. She wasn't beautiful, strong or powerful. Sure, she was smart, but that only got you so far when it came to men, either living or undead. So why was it that he was still interested in her, still pursuing her? She pondered the question as she turned the final corner and saw her home waiting welcomingly there in front of her.

The truth hit her as she entered the house and closed the door behind her. It was because he saw her as relatively easy prey. Only relatively easy, because certainly she had proven to be not as easy as he had anticipated. But her mind drew up the scenario for her, and when she considered it, everything became clear.

Spike was a vampire, but he had a chip. Vampires wanted nothing to do with him. Demons other than vampires felt pretty much the same way. He couldn't date a human, either, because of the whole 'sunlight' issue. Who wants to go for a walk in the park with a pile of dust? And let's face it, nobody would believe him if he said he was a vampire. 

Except for a Scooby. They knew exactly who and what he was, she realized. He could date one of them without having to lie about anything. Well, except for his feelings.

Willow considered the Scoobies as a group. There was Buffy, who would never look at him with any emotion other than annoyance. There was Xander, who again never showed Spike anything but contempt. Giles was *so* not Spike's type. That left only her, gullible little Willow. An easy lay, or so he must have figured. 

The anger inside of her began to build again, and she tried to figure out exactly why it bothered her so much that he had been trying to use her. Was it because he had hurt her feelings by his seeming betrayal? Or was it because she was afraid that given a couple more weeks, she might have found herself falling into his arms, as well as his carefully laid trap?

Because she certainly had been close to developing feelings for the blond vampire. He was her friend, or so she had thought, and he had begun to insinuate himself into her life in such a way that she knew she would miss him if he hadn't been there. And then there was the issue of his body. A body closer to the classical image of perfection did not exist. Tall, lean, and wiry. He was hard in all the right ways, and soft in all the right places. 

'Oh god,' she thought, shaking her head in dismay, 'Get my mind on something else besides this!'

Instead, she concentrated on his face, closing her eyes and bringing an image of it into her mind. She imagined cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass, eyes that could pierce your emotional armor and see through to your soul, lips that were full and sensual, all topped by hair that was shockingly obvious, yet definitely fitting.

Yeah, she could definitely fall for him. COULD HAVE, she reminded herself sharply. Would have, if Buffy and Xander hadn't told her what he was up to.

And that was definitely the thought that scared her most of all.

Spike approached the door to his rooms, pausing for a moment before entering. He could tell that he had had a visitor - he could smell her sweet scent on the air like an intoxicating perfume. His Willow had been here.

What she had been looking for? Had she come to try to thank him again? Or to find out why he had been so angry earlier? Probably a little bit of both, the vampire decided.

He sat down on the bed and kicked his boots off, before stretching back to lay out on the soft mattress. His mind was seething with the possibilities shown to him by Marco. A life without the chip, but with Willow, had him practically shivering with anticipatory glee. Sure, she would hate him at first because of what she saw as his 'betrayal,' but wouldn't she get over it in time? 

The longer he thought about the matter, the more certain he was that she would not forgive him, especially if the loss of her magical abilities was a constant reminder. But once the chip was gone he could turn her, and that idea brought with it a whole other range of possibilities.

He stood at a crossroads, he realized. He could reject Marco's offer and continue living the way he was now, if that could really be considered living, and possibly never have the redhead. Or he could throw his lot in with the other vampire and have Willow with him, forever.

Today was the day, Willow decided. Last night she had practically turned Sunnydale upside-down looking for Spike, but now it was morning and she knew exactly where to find him. 

Her mood was uncertain as she trudged from her home to the Magic Box, the usually short walk taking longer than usual today because of her intruding thoughts. She knew what she wanted to say to Spike, and how she felt about what he was up to, but she wasn't sure whether it would be better to show him anger or compassion. Which one was more likely to cause the vampire to leave her alone?

And why did she care, anyway? Why did she care if she hurt him, she wondered. Was it because she might feel something for him besides just friendship? She quickly set that possibility aside, refusing to even consider that possibility because of what it would mean if it were true. 

Anger it was, she decided. She had treated him honestly, insisting that she wamted nothing more than friendship, and he had agreed to that. Then he went around trying to make her feel more for him than just friendship; that was just sneaky and mean.

She entered the shop, cringing as the jingling bell announced her presence. 'Blabbermouth,' she thought irritably. Her eyes took in the room, noting Giles in deep conversation with an elderly woman who seemed particularly interested in something that looked uncomfortably like a mummified hand. Willow couldn't help but notice that Giles seemed to be slightly harried, but before he could say a word to her, she had already slipped down the stairs and into the basement.

Standing outside of Spike's door, her mind suddenly went blank. She knew that there were things that she wanted to say to him, but here, moments away from him, all her carefully prepared reasons and excuses melted away like snow in a warm rain. 

Willow turned to leave, not wanting to face him now while reason had fled her mind, but before she could take a step, the door jerked open and Spike's face was peering into hers.

He was squinting at her, his hair tousled and his eyes still lazy with sleep. In addition, Willow couldn't help but notice that he wore only a pair of boxers, and she suspected that he had thrown those on only for her sake. The expanse of pale, bare chest that met her eyes left her almost breathlessly distracted. 

"I could hear your heart racing all the way across the room," he told her, his eyes roving her body, lips quirking up into a smirk. Suddenly Willow felt that she was as naked as Spike was. 

"We--" Willow squeaked out, her voice high and unfamiliar. She stopped a moment to collect herself, eyes staring down at the floor. After a moment she tried again. "We need to talk," she said quietly, still not able to meet his eyes.

Spike stepped back from the door, opening it and inviting her in. "Mind if I get a little breakfast while we chat?" He had already moved to the kitchenette and as she watched, he pulled a bag of blood out of the refrigerator, and within seconds had it in a mug in the microwave.

He watched without comment as the redhead closed the door behind her and made her way to his table, bending to sit gingerly on one of the two rickety chairs there. Before long the soft 'ding' of the microwave drew him from his contemplations and he grabbed the mug and took the chair opposite her.

As he sipped the warm blood, Spike watched her face, looking for signs of disgust or discomfort. Most humans seemed extremely uncomfortable watching him eat, and he had never quite understood why. It wasn't as if it was drinking the blood straight from the vein, after all. If they didn't know better, he might even have been drinking a Bloody Mary or some such. 

Willow had to stifle a smile as she saw the words on the mug, 'sod off, you bloody bastard.' She had bought that cup for him last year at Christmas. There was a shop in the mall that would personalize a coffee cup with whatever text you wanted, and after watching his disgust at having to use the 'Kiss the Librarian' cup, she decided that it was high time he had something that was his, and truly reflective of his personality. For some strange reason, seeing him use it made her feel happy.

But happy was *not* what she wanted to be feeling right now. She scrunched her forehead, trying to remember all of those carefully constructed arguments she planned on hitting him with. Nothing came to mind. 

'Time to say something,' she thought desperately, 'Anything.' But before she could, Spike said it for her.

"So what do we need to talk about?" he asked, his face carefully neutral. 

He was not going to make this easy for her, she knew. Best to just plunge ahead and get it over with. "Buffy and Xander explained why you were so mad at me the other day," she said, assuming that would explain everything.

The vampire gave her a perplexed look, and a 'go on' gesture with the hand not holding the coffee mug. 

Willow took a deep breath before trying again. "They said that the reason you were so upset about finding Xander and I together was because you were obsessed with me."

She watched as his eyes widened and his lips settled into a frown. 

"They said that, did they?" he answered coldly, his body stiffening with rage. "And so you came straight over here to tell the bad evil vampire that he was wasting his time, did you? That you deserve better? That I'm beneath you?"

His words and his tone struck that string of anger that still flowed through her body, and she snapped back at him. "What the hell is your problem, Spike? You have no right to be angry. I'm the one that's the wronged party here!"

"Oh, yeah?" he growled, his eyes flashing amber momentarily as he struggled to get his demon under control. "And just why is that, little girl?"

"Why? You can ask me that? How dare you ask me that!" Willow eyes seem to spit daggers at him as she struggled to keep her own temper under control, wanting nothing more than to pound into his body with her tiny fists. "You told me we could be friends. Just friends. That you would be happy with that. Do you remember that? And then I find out that all this 'friendship' was just your way of trying to seduce me. How the hell did you expect me to feel?"

He winced as her accusation hit home, then pulled himself to his feet and began to pace the floor, shooting glances at her as he moved. She was right, of course, and a part of him admitted that. She had every right to feel betrayed and angry. But if she hadn't been so damned stubborn in the first place, none of this subterfuge would have been necessary. He held that thought to himself as the justification for all of his actions.

"I did what I did because you forced me to. Don't act like this is all my fault. You are just as responsible for this situation as I am!" He was yelling now, the anger in his voice more than a match for hers.

Willow shook her head in bewilderment, trying to follow his circuitous reasoning. "It's *my* fault?" she yelled back at him, her hand reaching out to grab him and pull him to a stop in front of her. She stood up and faced him, her hands clenched into fists in an effort to keep her temper under control. She could feel the crescents of her nails biting into the soft skin of her palm, but paid it no mind. "How the hell could this be my fault? I've been nothing but honest from day one!"

"Bullshit!" Spike roared, grabbing her upper arms and digging his fingers in. He knew that she would have bruises the next day, but his anger was such that he truly didn't care. "You are rarely honest. Not when it counts, at least," he sneered at her, looking down into her wide, frightened eyes. "You hide behind the shield of your fears and barely ever peek outside. And on the rare occasion that someone manages to get past your formidable defenses, you shoot them down fast if they ever dare try to make the mistake of wanting more than a just friendship."

Tears began to well up in her eyes, tears of pain both physical and emotional. "That's so not true," she said softly, trying hard not to break down in front of him. There was no way she would let him see how badly his accusation had hurt her.

"Sure it's true," he insisted, his voice quieter now but deadly serious. "That's why you've carried a torch for the moron for so long. You know that he'll never care for you as more than a friend, but your whole unrequited love thing keeps you from ever having to give your heart to someone else; someone who might hurt you."

"No!" she denied hotly, her mind desperately searching for some way that she could convince him that he was wrong. "Just because I won't be your cheap fuck doesn't mean that I am not open to a relationship with someone else!" She threw the words at him, hoping to hurt him the way that he had hurt her.

"Cheap fuck? CHEAP FUCK??" The shocking words echoed around the apartment, mocking him. He shook the redhead, trying to pull her attention back to him and away from her self-protective thoughts. "Is that what you think this is all about? That all I want is someone who will warm my bed?"

"Whatever you wanted doesn't really matter. Even if you could convince me that what you wanted was a real relationship, it still wouldn't matter. I could never trust you ever again. Not after you lied to me. Never!" she cried as she wrenched herself out of his arms and ran out of his apartment.

The brown package looked benign enough, sitting there on the watcher's countertop. It was roughly the size and shape of an oversized book, the kind that people leave on their coffee tables, with colored pictures of beautiful and exotic places. Little did anyone know that the package held something that would change all of their lives forever.

"Spike, this was delivered for you earlier today," Giles said, handing the package to a rather bleary-eyed vampire. His fight with Willow that morning had left him restless and angry, making sleep impossible to capture. By mid-afternoon he had given up all pretense of sleeping and had decided to go online and see what he could find out about this Marco and the ritual he had mentioned.

The only results of his search had been a headache and a sore back, reminding him once again that he needed to get either a new computer chair, or perhaps one of those fancy laptop computers he had been noticing more and more often. What Spike had found was that there were literally hundreds of spells that needed to be fueled by the power of a witch. Without knowing Marco's ultimate goal, it was impossible to figure out which spell was the right spell. Finally he decided that he was merely wasting time, and put the computer away to think about what he would do once he received the text of the spell from the other vampire.

"Thanks mate," Spike said, turning the packet over in his hands. He knew exactly what it was and who it was from, but even now he was having second thoughts about what opening it would lead to. A part of him wanted to throw it straight into the trash and forget he had ever met Marco. But there was a stronger part of him that hoped that by opening the packet and accepting what was within, he would change his life for the better. 

That was the part that was in control when he returned to his rooms, opened the brown packet, and read the text to the ritual that Marco was going to attempt to perform.

Willow had cried for so long now that she had no tears left to cry. Her confrontation with Spike had left her feeling emotionally drained and vulnerable. The anger that had fueled her flight from his apartment had died quickly, and by the time she had returned home, she was tired and miserable. Once she was safely in her room, her haven, she had collapsed onto the bed, curled up, and cried her eyes out.

She tried her best to refute his cruel words and accusations. Just because she didn't want a relationship with him, it didn't mean that she didn't want a relationship with anybody else, after all. So maybe it had been a bit of a dry spell dating-wise since Oz had left her...that didn't mean that she wasn't interested or that she was hiding. It just meant that she was being careful; taking things slowly.

Didn't it?

"Aaaarrrghh!!!" she yelled out loud, furious that Spike and his accusations had her second-guessing her actions and the motivations behind them. And he had made her cry too, damnit. 

Marco waved to Spike across the bar swimming with demons, motioning for him to make his way to the dark vampire's side. "So?" he asked casually, as the blond pulled up a chair and sat down next to him. "Did you have a chance to look over the text of the ritual? I assume that's why we're here," he added curiously.

Spike nodded noncommittally, his eyes sweeping the bar, looking for anyone who might be trying to listen to them. Wouldn't do to get caught now, he decided. Not seeing anyone paying them an unusual amount of attention, Spike turned back to face Marco. "Took a look at it. Had another bloke do the same. Seems on the up-and-up," he admitted.

A slow lazy smile crossed Marco's lips, and he licked the lower one slowly, sensually, all the while eyeing the vampire next to him. "Do we have a deal?" he asked, although he already knew the answer. The question was a mere formality. And Marco was all about the formalities.

Uneasiness clouded Spike's eyes momentarily, but the moment passed and so did his concern. He looked into the dark blue eyes of the demon next to him and asked one final question. "The witch is mine, afterwards?"

"You have my word on it," Marco agreed, a wide grin splitting his face. A matching grin could be seen on Spike's face as well, but the merriment on neither face was reflected in the eyes. 

"Very well then, you've got yourself a partner," Spike said, twisting around to get Willie's attention. "Drink on it?"

"By all means," Marco agreed, ordering two whiskeys from the nervous bartender. 'Partner' wasn't really the word he would use to describe their alliance, but he knew better than to rock the boat at such an important moment.

"So what's the timeline on this plan?" Spike asked curiously.

"Ahh," Marco sighed, leaning back comfortably in his chair. "Time, such a precious thing," he said, casting his eyes around the bar until they again settled on Spike. "The ritual must be done during a full moon, of course. This Sunday would be the ideal time. Would you be ready by then?"

The blond shifted in his chair, trying to become more comfortable. He felt a stab of uneasiness, which he quickly pushed down. "What exactly are you going to need me to do?"

"It's quite simple, actually. You will bring your witch to a small house just outside of town. Make up an excuse of some sort," he added casually. "Once she is inside, there is a specific room to which you must take her. It is protected by a spell called 'The Quiet Room.' That's not the true name, of course, but merely a loose translation."

Marco fell silent for a moment as Willie placed their drinks in front of them and then quickly scurried away. The dark vampire held his glass to his face, examining the amber liquid within it. Apparently the whiskey passed some sort of test, for Marco drank it down in one quick gulp, banging the shot glass back down onto the table with a sharp clink. He smiled happily as the liquid burned its way down his throat. "Not bad," he murmured.

"Once inside this room," he continued, warming to his topic, "She will be completely unable to call upon her magical abilities. In short, no type of magic whatsoever will work in this room. She will be completely powerless."

The vampire watched Spike's face for any flicker of emotion, but saw nothing. Satisfied that the blond was not unduly disturbed by his words, he unveiled a bit more of his plan. "I will be elsewhere, performing the ritual. You will entertain her however you wish, until the point at which I require her-energies. I will make sure that the room is furnished with a bed, at the very least," he added, giving his companion a knowing grin.

Spike ignored the grin, his face set into an emotionless mask. He merely nodded his approval and waited for the other vampire to continue.

"You have no doubt deciphered the text of the ritual and understand what I am trying to do. I am attempting to gain favor with Phanes, the ancient Greek god of life, in the hope that he will grant me true immortality. If I am successful, I will be absolutely unstoppable, not by sun or decapitation or holy water. Simply put, I cannot die."

"However, towards the end of the ritual, Phanes will require the sacrifice of raw magical power, which is of course where your witch comes in. When I am ready, you will bind her feet and ankles, and of course cover her mouth so that she cannot chant or work any spells. She will be taken to the altar, where her power will be sacrificed. After the energy is transferred, she will be unconscious for some time."

"Some time?" Spike interjected, an uneasy frown forming on his face. "Care to be a bit more specific, mate?"

Marco's lips curved into a cold smile. "Not to worry, it will not be long. Twelve to fifteen hours, twenty at the most. She will be safe. In the meantime," he added with a smile, "I have a doctor who is just dying to rid you of that pesky piece of plastic you have up here." He moved a long finger to tap lightly on his own head, just in case Spike wasn't absolutely clear on which piece of plastic he was talking about.

Spike watched as the other vampire leaned back in his chair, satisfaction pouring out of him from every pore. "There is one thing you didn't mention though," he said slyly. He smirked as Marco gave him a quizzical look, leaning forward slightly, elbows on the table. "This here's a one-time thing, isn't it? One shot at the big-time, and if it fails, you're out of luck."

"Ahh, I should have known that you would have an expert look at this," Marco said, smiling that cold smile again. "You are correct, of course. Phanes can only be summoned once in a millennium, and if the ritual is not completed once it is started, or if it is done improperly, or without a suitable sacrifice, then I will be, what is it the Americans say? Oh yes, I will be 'shit out of luck.' A crude saying," he mused, "Yet oddly appropriate."

Marco shook himself from his thoughts. "That is why it is extremely important that everything go according to plan on Sunday. Do you foresee any problems on your end?"

Spike hesitated for the briefest of seconds, wondering what kind of excuse he could come up with that would fool the redhead into taking a trip out of town in the dead of night. Bugger all, he'd think of something. "No, I think I can deliver."

Willow was jolted out of her studies by the loud and unexpected ringing of the phone. "I'm never going to finish this stupid book," she muttered aloud, as she reached over to pick up her cordless phone. 

"Hello?" she answered, swearing to herself that if this was some stupid telemarketer, she was going to hang up on them without even being polite. She knew that was uncharacteristic behavior on her part, but she really needed to get that book finished, or she would fail her test tomorrow for sure. And just where *had* the weekend gone, she wondered. Here it was Sunday and she felt like the time off had just melted away.

"Willow?" The sound of Spike's voice on the other side of the call surprised Willow. She had been actively avoiding him since their confrontation earlier in the week, and now she cursed herself and the telephone gods for making her answer this call.

"Spike," she said coolly, hoping he would get the message and leave her alone. Her eyes swept the room idly, trying to convince her mind to think about anything except what the sound of his voice was doing to her. Why did he always have to sound so damn sexy?

"Pet, I need your help."

Willow could sense some urgency in Spike's voice, and realized that this might not simply be a social call. "Why? I-I have a test tomorrow. If you need something, couldn't it wait until tomorrow night?"

"No, we need you here now." Again that note of urgency in his voice, which was beginning to concern her. She tried to fight it, but curiosity got the better of her.

"We? Who is we? And where is here?"

A brief silence followed as he tried to untangle her sentence. "Buffy and I need you."

He was with Buffy? That changed things - lent some legitimacy to his request. 

"You're with Buffy?"

"I just bleedin' said so, didn't I?" he shot back, irritation joining the urgency in his voice. She could imagine him, wherever he was, gesticulating as he talked into the phone, his eyes narrowed and annoyed.

"Okay Spike, what's going on? What do you need me to do?" Willow's natural instinct was to be the peacemaker, so she talked slowly and softly, hoping to calm the vampire.

"Well, the slayer was getting this vibe while we were patrolling. We were in front of this house just outside of town. Said it 'made her spidey sense feel all ooky.'"

Willow smiled at his description of the Buffy-speak. If she was using her Buffy-to-English dictionary correctly, that phrase meant something was setting off alarm bells in the slayer's head. 

"Why do you need me?"

"Slayer said it might be something magical, and she didn't want to go in blind, not knowin' what was going on in the house. She thought you might be able to get a bead on whatever it is that's inside."

It made sense, Willow supposed. If there *was* something evil going on there, she might be able to get a handle on it without actually entering the house. Unfortunately, it also meant that she'd have to leave now, and she glanced with regret at the book on the bed next to her. 'Later tonight, I promise,' she told the book, hoping that she wasn't making a promise she wouldn't be able to keep.

"Okay, I'll be there as quickly as I can. Where are you again?"

A brief silence followed, and then Spike was back. "I'm in a phone booth. Looks like I'm on the corner of Pacific and Meadow. You know, by the old abandoned church."

Saying something was down by the 'old abandoned church' was like saying it was 'on a street that started with the letter D.' The description was utterly useless. The only kind of church you could find in Sunnydale was an old abandoned one. The town was rotten with them. But Willow recognized the street names and thought she knew pretty much where they met, so she didn't press for details.

"I'm leaving now. I'll be there as quickly as I can."

She must have broken all types of speeding laws in order to get there as quickly as she did, but Spike made no mention of the fact. As the maroon sedan, borrowed from her ever-absent parents, made its way into the dark, empty parking lot, he smiled. Time to get this show on the road.

Willow spied the shock of bright hair before she saw the rest of Spike, appearing before her just like the Cheshire cat, but in reverse. He looked tense she thought, as she unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the door. Whatever was going on, it must be serious.

"Thought you'd never get here," he groused, apparently still in a bit of a temper. 

"Well I'm here now," she shot back, no longer interested in pampering him, or catering to his mood. "Where's Buffy?"

"Dunno," Spike admitted gruffly. He made a show of searching the shadows for the slayer's bright blonde hair. "She was over there when I made the phone call," he motioned to a spot on the other side of the street and down a couple of houses, "But I turned away for a minute, and when I turned back, she was gone."

Willow thought about that for a moment, wondering how they could find Buffy without making themselves too obvious to any nasties that might be around. She decided that their best bet would probably be to check out the house.

"Which house is it, Spike? The one that was giving her the bad vibes?"

Her eyes followed his arm, as he pointed at a small two-story house that sat back a bit from the road. Dark shadows wreathed the front yard, and no light shone from within. "It's all dark. Nobody home?"

He stared back up at the house, "Could be. Or the windows could be blacked out. Hard to say."

A soft sigh left her lips, and she gave the forbidding house one last look before turning back to her companion. "Let's get a little closer. Maybe that will help."

"Sure pet, whatever you say."

They walked the short distance in silence, neither one willing to voice the thoughts that were in their head. They came to a stop in front of the house, and hid behind some of the bushes in the front yard. Willow peered anxiously across the yard to the front door, looking for any sign of what was going on within. The weird thing was, she wasn't getting any kind of mystical vibe off the place at all. Whatever Buffy had felt, it certainly wasn't calling to her.

She took a look at the vampire beside her and just had to ask. "Are you sure this is the house? I mean, it's dark, and they all kind of look pretty similar."

He shot her a sharp look, and an even sharper reply. "Demon sight, damnit. I can see a hell of a lot more clearly right now than you can."

Willow frowned at his response, and then concentrated hard on the house again, but there really wasn't anything there. Not even a glimmer. "So do you think Buffy went inside?"

"That's my bet," Spike confirmed. "My senses are still screaming SLAYER in big bright red letters, so she's got to be somewhere close-by."

"What should we do? Should we go in, or call for reinforcements, or --"

"No, no time to wait for reinforcements. We've waited too long already," he said, a certain amount of tension in his voice. "Tell you what. You wait here and I'll do a quick walk around the house, see if anyone is standing guard or whatnot. Maybe there's a back way in that won't be so obvious."

The idea made sense, although the thought of standing out here alone was more than a little frightening. But she knew that Spike was just a scream away, should she encounter trouble. Besides, he would move faster and quieter on his own, so there was no point in her asking to accompany him. 

She nodded her agreement, shivering slightly as she watched him fade into the shadows. Then she was alone. Alone, except for the noises around her. Crickets chirped, frogs croaked, wind whistled through the trees, and far off in the distance, the sound of a train whistle blew. 

And then there were the unexplainable sounds. The 'thwack, thwack' that she heard every so often that seemed to come from everywhere at once. The soft moaning that didn't seem at all natural. But what bothered her the most was the rustling sound beside her that seemed to stop every time she sought it out. 

Her mind began to spin with worry. Where was Spike? It had been too long now. It felt like it had been at least ten minutes, although a quick check at her watch assured her that only two or three minutes had passed. But still, where was he? And what if he didn't come back? What would she do? Would she have to find her own way into the house, or call Xander and Giles and have them come out, or ...

A stealthy, cold hand snaked across her face, covering her mouth completely and stifling the scream that was trying to tear its way out of her throat. As she began to struggle desperately, an arm surrounded her middle, pulling her back against a lean, cool body. She continued to struggle as much as she could, but was sure that at any moment she would feel the sharp sting of fangs piercing the soft skin of her neck.

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