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

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, 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.

"Stop it," hissed an angry voice with a sharp British accent. "With all the bloody noise you're making, thrashing about like that, you're sure to alert the entire neighborhood to our presence here."

It was Spike, she realized with relief, as she let her body relax and become limp in his arms. Thank god, she sighed, although she figured that god had very little to do with the vampire behind her. 

His hand fell away from her mouth, and the other hand relaxed his hold on her mid-section. She turned quickly, ready to give the blond a piece of her mind. He had scared the crap out of her, and she was reasonably sure he had mostly done it for fun.

"Quiet, witch," he muttered. "Do you want to hear what I found or not?"

Willow nodded silently, although her eyes still shot green sparks at him. 

"Okay then," he said, slightly mollified. "I didn't see anyone, although I did find a window and got a good look at the interior. Still think the slayer went inside, but the only way I'm gonna know for sure is if I go in after her."

"We," Willow objected. "We go in after her. You're not leaving me alone out here, not again."

Spike smiled, amazed at just how easy it was to play her. "Fine," he conceded, allowing a trace of false regret to be heard in his voice, "Let's go then, shall we? Before the sun comes up and all," added sarcastically.

Walking cautiously to the door, he hoped that Marco was true to his word and that he had kept the other vampires and minions in the basement, where the ritual was to be performed. If Willow saw them wandering about now, it would be a hell of a lot more difficult to get her into that 'Quiet Room.'

He almost breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that nobody was about, then slipped in the door and took a step or two into the hallway. Looking back, he watched Willow peer through the doorway, then she moved fully into the house, closing he door silently behind her. Her eager eyes scanned the room, probably looking for signs of Buffy's presence. Well, she'd have to look pretty darned hard to find something, he thought. 

The downstairs was quiet, and the two of them moved silently from room to room, quick glances into each room revealing nothing of note. Spike had had a bad moment in one of the bathrooms, when Willow spied something that had looked like one of Buffy's scarves. But upon further examination, it had turned out to be a slightly different color. Finding the slayer actually in the house would have been a real kink in the vampire's plans, so he stifled a sigh of relief when the redhead regretfully informed him that it was not Buffy's scarf after all.

Soon they were back in the foyer again, having made the rounds of the downstairs without finding any sign of Buffy. "Guess we go upstairs," he said, following closely behind Willow as she ascended the steps. The room that was their ultimate destination was directly across from the stairway, and would logically be the first room they would search. His body became tense as they neared the door, his hands clutching the key in his pocket that would lock he and Willow into the room until they were needed.

Willow opened the door, peering around the corner and into the room. It was an ordinary room, with a large window on the opposite wall that looked out onto the houses across the street. Sparse furnishings dotted the room: an old, battered desk, a large four-poster bed, and a small bedside table that sat next to the door. Other than those few pieces of furniture, the room was devoid of anything that could be seen as remotely personal. Obviously this room was not inhabited at all.

Nothing caught her eye directly, until she noticed what looked like a spot of blood that showed on the white of the bedspread. Willow moved towards it quickly, stifling her anxiety at the thought that she might be looking at Buffy's blood. But when she touched it, she realized that the blood was not fresh, and therefore could not be Buffy's. She turned quickly, bumping into Spike who was standing close behind her, blocking her way and keeping her from the door. The look on his face was guarded, and suddenly she felt a wave of uneasiness pass through her. She shivered slightly, without knowing exactly why.

This is silly, she told herself. It's Spike. Since when am I afraid of Spike? 

"C'mon Spike, let's go," she whispered quietly, trying to move towards the door. She noticed then that the door was closed, and that Spike was not moving out of her way. Suddenly her brain, which had apparently been on hiatus for the last hour, decided to kick in and tell her that something was seriously wrong here. "What is going on?" she asked him softly, hoping that he could give her an answer that wouldn't scare the shit out of her. 

He moved out of her way then, stepping further into the heart of room, his face an impassive mask. He turned to watch her, nodding knowingly as she moved to the door and attempted to open it. But instead of opening easily and leading her back into the hall, the handle would not turn, and he watched as knowledge and horror dawned on her face and she realized that she was a prisoner.

She turned back to look at him, her lips moving and trying to form the questions that her mind was feeding her. As she watched him, she saw him dangle a key from his fingertips, before he swiftly shoved it back into the front pocket of his jeans. Apparently she was to be his prisoner.

"Why?" It was the only thing she could manage, the fear, betrayal and hurt all too much for her mind to handle. So she moved away from the emotional questions, and tried to focus on the most important one.

"Why what?" 

"Why are you doing this? You lured me here, didn't you? Was Buffy ever here? This was never about her at all, was it? It was about us?"

"Because I want to, yes I did, no she wasn't, no it wasn't, and sort of," he answered her, watching with amusement as she tried to remember exactly what questions she had asked, and in what order she had asked them. 

"What's the point, Spike?" she asked sadly, her fear beginning to dissipate as she sensed that he didn't plan to hurt her, at least not immediately. "You must know that kidnapping me is not going to convince me to give our relationship a chance."

"Maybe that's not entirely what this is about, pet," he told her, motioning for her to sit down on the bed. 

She moved slowly, sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed. The bloodstain on the bedspread seemed to mock her, and she wondered again how she could have been so trusting and naive. Her hands gripped the covers and she stood, pulling the offending piece of bedding until it sat pooled on the floor. Satisfied, she sat down again, this time on soft satin sheets, her angry but still inquisitive eyes looking up to meet Spike's, as if to say, 'Get it over with.'

The vampire sat down next to her, flinching slightly as she quickly moved away from him. He remembered a time not so long ago when they had been friends and had been comfortable with each other, and a small part of him felt regret for what he was doing. But he had a plan, and he was bloody well going to stick with it, so he simply pushed his emotions aside.

"What's it all about, you ask? Well, it's about this bloody chip..."

"What do you mean, this is all about the chip? What does kidnapping me and keeping me here have to do with your chip?" Willow asked, confusion momentarily taking precedence over her fear and anger. 

Spike looked at her calmly, watching the emotions play across her face. This wasn't going to be fun, he knew. In fact, she might never forgive him for this. But it was necessary, so once again he tamped down his emotions and looked her in the eye. He almost lost his will entirely when he saw the betrayal in those shining orbs, but he thought of all of the things that would happen in the next couple of hours and somehow found the ability to speak. 

"Remember Marco, that vampire that had you and the moron kidnapped?" He watched her nod uneasily, then continued, "Well, he needs a witch." Before she could protest, he added quickly, "There's a ritual he's performing. Kind of like when I had that Gem of Amara. He performs this ritual, and he's invincible." He thought back fondly to his brief time with the Gem. The caress of sunlight on his face again after all those years of darkness and shadows had been unbelievable. In a very real way he envied Marco, and all that the vampire hoped to gain from this ritual. If only he could...but no, there was no point in going there.

He watched as the witch's face grew stormy, her expression angry and betrayed. "So you thought that you would just deliver me to him and let him drain me? How the hell could you do that to me, Spike? I trusted you! I was your friend. And you just threw that away, and for what? Just so some other vampire can have what you couldn't keep?"

The reference to his losing the Gem stung, but he kept his emotions under control. His clenched jaw and hard eyes were the only visible cues to his anger. "He's promised to remove my chip," he said finally, grinding the words out between clenched teeth.

Understanding dawned in her eyes, and sadness filled her heart. He would do it, she knew. He would turn her over to Marco so that he could get his chip removed. She had been right all along; he had never felt anything for her at all. Tears flooded her eyes and spilled down her pale cheeks as the truth hit home. But which hurt worse? The fact that he would betray her like this, or that he had never seen her as anything more than convenient way to pass the time? 

"Willow," he said softly, reaching over to cup her chin with his hand. She jerked away from him as if the touch had burned her, then stood and moved to the center of the room. Her eyes were wild with fear and pain as she trained them on him, and her mouth began to form silent words as her hands moved slowly around her body. 

Her motions stopped suddenly, and she stalked towards him, her face dark and angry. "What the hell did you do to me?" she asked, the words merely a whisper. "I can't feel my magic anymore." Tears began to fall again, and Spike watched with regret as the young redhead turned away from him, moving to sit on the floor at the other end of the room, her eyes trained on her feet. "I can't feel my magic," she said again forlornly, burying her face in her hands and crying bitterly.

Spike got up and moved to sit down beside her, putting a comforting arm around her shoulders. She shied away from him, but he pulled her closer, his arm a vise around her shoulder. "It's the room, luv," he said softly, trying to relieve her fears. "Some spell Marco worked up, to keep you from getting out. Your magic is still there, you just can't feel it at the moment." 

He could tell that she was scared, could smell her intoxicating fear, but being the girl she was, she wanted to know the worst. "What's going to happen, Spike? Is he going to-to kill me?"

Spike fought to keep his demon in check at the thought of anyone hurting this delicate creature next to him. Well, anyone besides him, at least. He moved the hand from her shoulders to her hair, running his long fingers though it in what he hoped was a comforting gesture. It had always worked well with Dru, so he hoped it would work well here too.

"I'd never let him hurt you," he vowed, trying to convince her of his sincerity. "He just needs to borrow a bit of your power, that's all. For the ritual."

Willow looked at him uncertainly, as if unsure she would ever be able to trust him again. "I promise, pet. Just a little nibble, that's all. Trust me."

The last two words were a mistake, and he knew it the minute they left his mouth. She had been starting to relax into his touch, letting his softly spoken words reassure her, but the minute he asked her to trust him, all hell broke loose.

"Trust you? TRUST YOU?" she yelled, jumping to her feet. "Trusting you is what got me into this nightmare," she said bitterly, spitting the words at him from her new perch on the other side of the room. 

He rose slowly to his feet, doing his best to reign in his impatience. He was doing all of this for her, whether she realized it or not. He could have just let Marco and his minions pick her up somewhere, scaring her to death and hurting her in the process. But no, he had been the good guy, tried to play it nice and easy with her, and what had been the result? 

Standing in front of her, the back of her legs flush against the nightstand, he tried again to reason with her. "Willow, by tomorrow this will all be over. Believe me; trust me, even though every cell in your body is telling you not to. I promise I won't let anything happen to you." 

"I want to believe you," she said softly, her eyes cast down. "I really--what's that?" she asked, surprised, her eyes riveted to a spot on the floor. 

Spike looked down for a moment, his eyes searching out whatever it was that had caught her attention. When his head was bent down, Willow grabbed the ceramic lamp on the table behind her, bringing it down hard on his head, using all of the strength in her small body. The base of the lamp was heavy, and did not break when it made contact with the vampire's head, but Spike sank to the floor instantly, his body still. 

Willow looked down at the blond uncertainly. She hadn't expected him to go down so easily, so she hit him again with the lamp, just in case he was faking it. Still he remained silent, so she quickly considered her options. 

The key to the door was in his pants pocket, she remembered, but she was afraid to get that close to him. What if he woke up? Besides, was she really brave enough to stick her hands in his pocket? Probably not.

There was still the window, and it beckoned to her. She moved swiftly towards it, throwing it open quickly and looking out and down. The window faced the street, and she wished fervently for someone to come by, but nobody did. Her only option then was to climb outside and stand on the thin ledge below. She was sure that the ledge would eventually lead her to a stairway or some other way down to the ground, but it might not be an easy climb.

Every minute she wasted in here trying to decide what to do brought her a minute closer to Spike eventual awakening. Throwing one last look around the room, she decided to chance the window. She might fall to her death, but at least Marco wouldn't get her energy. Maybe Buffy would be able to find him before he could take another witch and finish his ritual.

Whispering a silent prayer to her Goddess, she crossed a leg over the threshold, sighing with relief as it found the small ledge below the window. She was in the process of bringing her other leg outside when it was grasped from behind by a strong hand.

Her head whipped back, and her eyes locked with those of a rather angry blond vampire. A strong yank brought the rest of her body back inside the room, but her momentum threw her at Spike and they both fell down onto the floor. 

She landed on top of him, a situation that he immediately rectified. With lightning-quick reflexes that only a vampire could lay claim to, he reversed their positions and straddled her hips, looking down at her with cold angry eyes.

'I can't believe she hit me!' Spike thought in amazement as he lay down where he had fallen. 'She bloody well hit me. Didn't think the little chit had it in her.'

Another sharp crack on the head proved to him that she did, indeed, have it in her. He stayed still, eyes closed, hoping that she would believe his 'playing dead' act. Truth be told, he was curious to see what she would do next. 

When she made no move to turn him over and try to get the key out of his pocket, he was rather surprised. Then he remembered the window. The bloody window. Silly girl would fall to her death if she wasn't careful. He had to do something about that or all his plans would turn to shit. Why the hell did she have to be so stubborn anyway?

He began to move slowly, peeking over the bed to look at the redhead, her body framed by the window. When her head turned and her eyes made one last sweep around the room, she nearly caught him, but he ducked back down behind the bed. She seemed to have decided something, and the next thing Spike knew, she had one foot out the window and was straddling the windowsill. 

'Silly stupid stubborn bloody bint,' he raged, his anger building quickly, making his body tense and his mind uneasy. With a speed not possible of a mere mortal, he raced to the window, grabbing her leg at the calf and pulling her back inside the window. She careened into him, and they both ended up on the floor, her on top of him.

'Now this won't do at all,' he thought, and his anger boiled over until he was sure she could see it in his eyes. He flipped her easily, and suddenly he was the one on top of her, straddling her hips and looking down into terrified green eyes. The scent of her fear was overpowering in the small room; even the open window couldn't dispel the intoxicating aroma.

"You stupid, stupid girl," he growled the words as he stared down into her eyes. "You could have been killed! What the BLOODY HELL were you thinking?"

Her eyes began to fill with tears and her chin started to quiver, but she refused to back down. "I'd rather be dead than go through with what you've got planned!" she screamed at him, as she began to writhe beneath him in an attempt to dislodge his body. Fear and anger gave her unexpected power, but it was no match for his vampire-enhanced strength. 

"Damn you, let me go!"

"No! I've gone to too much trouble to get you here, just to let you go again."

"I hate you." Instead of screaming at him, her voice had dropped low, and as she said the words, she spit at him. 

The globule of spit hit Spike on the cheek, and his last shred of self-control snapped. His cold blue eyes shimmered with flecks of yellow. He raised his hand, intending to strike the impudent human who dared to treat him like that. The demon whispered words of encouragement to him: he was a vampire, and a master at that. She should be bowing down before him in terror. Her willfulness must be subdued, and her disobedience punished swiftly. 'Hurt her, fuck her, drain her,' it chanted over and over again.

Spike fought the demon back, using every bit of strength he had, and finally his hand dropping uselessly back to his side. His face was blank, his eyes colder than ice, but he managed to stare down at his captive without showing a trace of his anger, other than a tightly clenched jaw.

"Do that again and I *will* kill you," he gritted out, his expression assuring her that he meant every word he said.

The look in her eyes was still rebellious, but fear stilled her movements and made her silent for the moment. Perhaps some small part of her had realized just how close she had come to dying in that moment, and was trying to back off just a bit.

The sound of a key scraping in the lock caught Spike's attention, and he turned his head towards the door. The door opened, and a minion stood there, holding rope and a roll of duct tape.

"Marco is ready for the witch," the demon said, eyes flickering curiously over the man and the redhead. From the way he licked his lips hungrily, he obviously thought that she looked good enough to eat. "Do you want help securing her?" he asked hopefully. He walked towards Spike, placing the items on the floor next to the blond. 

Spike growled low in his chest for his reply, and the minion quickly scurried out of the room. "Knock when you are ready Master, and I will let you out," he said quickly, closing the door behind him.

He grabbed the rope, testing its strength with his strong hands. When he was sure that it would secure the redhead without any problems, he looked down at her, once again enjoying the fear in her eyes. 

"Please don't do this Spike," she begged, her eyes wide and frightened. The green orbs called to him, making him wish for a moment that he could be honest with her and tell her everything. But he needed her like this, frightened, hurt and angry, so he merely looked back down at her and grabbed one of her hands, his long fingers curling tightly around her slender wrist.

"Don't make this any more difficult than it has to be, Willow," he replied softly, hoping she didn't hear the pleading note in his voice. He reached for her other hand, and was sad, but not surprised, when she fought him tooth and nail. It wasn't easy, but finally he managed to bring both her hands together and tie them tightly in front of her. 

"Spike," she whispered sadly as he picked up the duct tape and cut off a small piece. Even then she refused to admit defeat, twisting her head first one direction and then the other, trying to evade the tape that he was finally able to place directly over her mouth. Just in case, he placed a second, longer strip on top of the first one, and then looked down to survey his handiwork.

Sad, frightened pools of emerald liquid stared up at him, trying to tell him that it still wasn't too late to change his mind, but he hardened his heart, moving off of her body and dragging her to her feet. "C'mon, Will, time to meet your destiny," he said quietly as he made his way to the door, dragging her body behind him. He knocked twice and waited for the minion on the other side of he door to open it.

The demon opened the door, smiling evilly when his eyes fell on the small woman being pulled across the threshold by the vampire. A loud growl from the blond was enough to make the minion back off, hurriedly heading down the stairs to the first floor.

Willow continued to fight him, dragging her feet every inch of the way, and Spike could feel the eyes of the minion upon him as he struggled with her. Feeling the need to assert his dominance over her, he stopped suddenly, turning to face the woman behind him. 

A cold hand, hard as steel, grasped her chin, using it to pull her forehead flush against his own. "Continue to fight me like this, and I will rope your legs together as well and throw you over my shoulder. Would you prefer that?" he snarled, watching her flinch as his words hit home. "Will you behave now?" he asked her, his tone cold and unforgiving. He tightened his grip on her chin, using it to move her head up and down in a parody of a nod.

"That's more like it," he said, giving a cold grin to the other vampire, and continuing down the stairs, the witch trailing dispiritedly behind him. She might be docile for the moment, but he suspected that she was just biding her time, waiting for an opportunity to escape.

They continued their walk in silence, each stuck deep in their own thoughts. 

As they reached the last flight of stairs, the one that would take them into the basement, he could feel Willow tense against him. "It'll be all right, pet," he whispered softly into her ear, his hands sliding up and down over her arms in an attempt to calm her.

Unfortunately, he suspected that as far as she was concerned, things would never be all right again.

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