His steps speeded up as he felt dawn draw closer, and he unceremoniously shoved Willow inside his crypt as he ensured the door was properly closed, cutting out the direct sunlight but allowing enough filtered light to illuminate the room. That done, he turned to survey the sorry sight before him. Spike had often imagined having Willow in his crypt, but in those dreams, woven through the long boring hours when daylight kept him a prisoner, Willow was usually a leather-clad sex siren rather than the crumpled mess who sat pathetically on the ground at his feet.

Spike sighed loudly and unnecessarily, drawing a hurt look from Willow, as he tried to decide on the best course of action. The wound on her neck was a mess - it had stopped bleeding but it was filthy, it looked like she had rubbed dirt into it. Deciding this was the best place to start, Spike headed to the box that held his meagre possessions and pulled out a half-full bottle of cheap whiskey and a clean black T-shirt.

Then he squatted next to Willow, using the T-shirt to wipe her face clean before examining her neck. "This is going to hurt, but there's no water here and you need to clean up that wound. Alright?" Willow nodded hesitantly, then closed her eyes and bared her neck.

Spike took in the intoxicating sight before him, and breathed deeply, the smell of her blood causing his eyes to flicker with gold. He felt his head bend as if by its own will, and almost without conscious thought his tongue traced a lazy path through the congealed blood surrounding the wound. The tastebuds on his tongue screamed with pleasure as the sweet ambrosia filled his mouth.

It had been months since he had tasted human blood, and Willow's blood was better than most - sweet with the taste of near-virginity and youth, and spicy from the magic that lingered in her veins. There was something else too, a taste both familiar yet unrecognisable ... Spike continued to suckle at the partly healed wound as he tried to focus solely on the pleasure of this action he had been denied so long. Soon the blood on her neck had all been licked off, and despite pressing his tongue against the wound itself no further blood was forthcoming.

Spike growled his displeasure, shifting Willow's slight form (which had somehow ended up on his lap) and continued to lick at her neck, his growls giving way to purrs of pleasure as he enjoyed the almost as good sensation of warm skin under his tongue, with the taste of rich red blood kept away only by the thinnest of membranes.

So caught up was he in these pleasures that he had lost sight of where he was and why Willow was there, but Willow was very aware of her surroundings. She couldn't believe that she had uttered not one word of protest as Spike had licked - LICKED! - her neck clean.

She had often imagined what that tongue would feel like against her skin, but even her most heated fantasies were nothing compared to the reality of his cool, rough tongue sliding against her heated skin as he moaned and sucked at the blood on her neck. While he played his hands were stroking her back, causing shivers to run the length of Willow's body then drop to gather into the growing heat between her thighs. She could feel the forgotten bottle of whiskey wedged against one thigh, while the other was pressed against Spike's body. She was very aware of the growing hardness rubbing against her, and she could feel her panties becoming soaked with the evidence of her response.

Willow was half-convinced this was just another of her lust-induced fantasies, except that usually she was dressed a lot better and the setting was a bit more romantic than the dirt floor of a crypt. This was just one strange event too many, and she decided she had had enough with trying to maintain her nice-girl image while everything around her went frosm bad to worse to only-on-the-Hellmouth.

Listening to Spike growl as he fruitlessly licked her neck in search of more blood, Willow decided enough was enough. Spike had gotten what he wanted - and thoroughly enjoyed it from the feel of the huge bulge pressed hard against her - and now she was going to get what she wanted. Listening to the fire humming in her veins, Willow smiled and decided that a randy vampire might be exactly what the doctor ordered.

Even afterwards Spike was not exactly sure how it had happened. One minute he was happily sitting on the ground with a warm-blooded redhead cuddled against him, while he licked her beautiful throat with long, slow strokes.

The next minute he was flat on his back with a very happy looking witch astride him, regarding him with a hungry gleam in her eyes that sent a shiver through his long-dead heart.

His mind leapt back to the earlier research party. He had seen Willow's eyes glaze over, and as the others had continued with their own research he had been unable to resist the temptation to shake the witch awake, ready to cut her with one of his many barbed comments.

He didn't even know himself why Willow was so often the target of his sarcasm - after all, she was usually the only one who made an attempt to be nice to him, and to be honest she was the only one he could actually stand to talk to. Maybe it was that, and her increasingly frequent appearances in his X-rated fantasies, that led him to be even more rude to her than to the other Scoobies.

Whatever the reason, his smart comment had died on his lips as Willow had roused herself from her stupor and looked him straight in the eyes. Because for one brief moment, Spike had seen not the clear emerald gaze he was so familiar with, but eyes glowing gold. Not the yellow-gold eyes of his own demon, but a red-gold fire that hinted at a power he could feel suddenly surround him like a cloud.

Then she had blinked, and when he looked again her eyes showed only the curious green gaze of a cat. Still he had made his escape, trying to decide whether he had imagined the whole thing.

And now - the beautiful woman sitting confidently on his chest was giving off power in waves, and he knew he had not imagined that earlier encounter.

Feeling suddenly nervous, Spike wriggled slightly, which only caused a predatory grin to appear on Willow's face. "Oh yes, I see what he meant. Do it again," Willow commanded.

Spike, having no idea what she was talking about, decided it was time to make it clear who was in charge, and used his vampire strength to buck her body off him.

Except Willow, impossibly, was still astride him, and now he could smell the rich aroma of her arousal as she purred, rubbing herself slowly up and down the bulge in his jeans. Unsure what to do next, and enjoying the friction too much to want it to stop, Spike decided to lay back and see what the witch had in mind.

Willow saw the acceptance on his face as Spike stopped squirming and instead lay still as she continued the delicious friction. However the itch was getting worse not better, and she could feel the same impatience growing in Spike as he thrust his hips up to increase the pressure as their bodies rubbed together.

Unable to fight the fire gathering within, Willow suddenly stood and pulled off her blood-stained dress and saturated panties. She saw Spike's eyes glaze over as he stared up at her, and she was surprised that she felt no embarrassment. Only Oz had ever seen her naked before, and when she had been with him Willow had been covered with blushes and beset by insecurities.

But with Spike she had no such scruples. She knew she was desirable - she could see the proof of it on Spike's face, and even more tangible evidence was the growing wet patch on the front of his jeans from the pre-cum leaking from his tortured member.

Willow involuntarily licked her lips as she watched his cock straining against the confining jeans, and she smiled when she heard Spike groan. Kneeling down, she slowly undid his zip, watching with wide eyes as his cock sprang free. The fire within her burnt out of control as her approving eyes ran down his length, noting his size. Willow ran her thumb lightly over the gleaming head, then slowly sucked her digit clean, enjoying his unique taste and earning another, more dangerous sounding growl from her captive.

Ignoring Spike's growing impatience, Willow moved astride once more and slowly rubbed her sopping slit along his length. She closed her eyes at the marvelous sensation - so cool and hard, while she was so hot and wet. After a few minutes of this she decided that she had teased them both enough, and with one hand she gently lifted his cock, positioning his tip at her entrance, and before Spike had time to adjust his position she moved quickly down, taking his full length inside her and this time bringing a groan to both their lips.

Spike felt his control snap as Willow engulfed his cock inside herself. His hands reached up to grab her hips, and he held her firmly in place as he rolled them over, leaving Willow on her back with her legs wrapped around his hips. Spike thought he had never seen anyone look so beautiful - or so fuckable. With her eyes closed and her head flung back, Willow rocked her hips in encouragement

Spike needed on further coaxing, slamming into her with a rhythm that had them both gasping for more. Spike was lost in pleasure, only vaguely aware of other sensations - the breathy groans of the woman beneath him, the feel of her smooth hands grasping his hips to pull him into her even harder, and above all the incredible heat and tightness that was clutching at his painfully hard cock.

As he thrust harder into her, Spike felt her inner muscles begin to spasm as her orgasm hit her and with a growl Spike felt his demon emerge as he neared his own release. His golden eyes met Willow's green gaze as she put her hand to her neck and raked her fingernails over the healing bite mark, causing fresh blood to flow from the wound. Spike fastened his lips around the marks, sucking feverishly as he exploded into his own orgasm, flooding her with his cool seed as he slowly continued to thrust, reluctantly coming down from his high.

He rolled to one side, drawing Willow into his arms and felt the need for sleep become overwhelming. As he drifted off he was aware of feeling strange; with all the heat Willow was giving off he felt warm himself, something he had not been for many decades.

Willow felt Spike relax as he fell asleep. She was rejuvenated but confused. She was unable to grasp how she, Willow, net-girl and research buddy, had somehow seduced - no, attacked - a vampire. OK, a non-bitey vampire, but still! And not just any vampire, but one who had tried to kill her and her friends on several occasions, and had often stated his desire of perfecting his technique once he was de- chipped.

Pushing her thoughts aside and trying to instead simply enjoy the feel of his cold flesh against her, Willow was more irritated than surprised to feel the sensation fade as the dark surrounds of the crypt were replaced by the now familiar stone circle. This time however she was alone - at least until she saw a familiar figure walking towards her from the shadows that encircled her.

"Ms Calendar?" Willow said incredulously. (Could this get any weirder?) Remembering her previous state of dream undress, Willow frantically looked down and was reassured to see that she was dressed, as was her companion.

"Hello child. I have been chosen as your guide for what is ahead. I am not your dead friend, but I have adopted her form to make this as simple as possible for you."

(Simple??) Willow had nearly reached her breaking point. She had plenty to deal with in her real, awake life without this being added in.

"Look, whoever you are, I think you may have the wrong person. I mean, maybe you should try Buffy - she's a Slayer, she has lots of weird dreams. Or - you know, I'll bet Giles would love this dream, I mean think of the hours of research he could spend ..."

Willow trailed off as she looked at the apparition wearing the face of a departed friend, and she noticed the cold, glassy, non-human eyes gazing back at her. "Your fears and uncertainties are natural, but you must overcome them. It has begun," said Ms Calendar's voice without inflection, as Willow suddenly found herself once more held tight in Spike's protective embrace.

Gently extricating herself from the vampire's sleeping form, Willow took one look at her discarded clothing before commandeering Spike's T-shirt and jeans. She just hoped she got back to the dorm before anyone saw her, or she would really have a lot of explaining to do.

There was just one thought in her mind: (I need to talk to Giles.)

It was late afternoon by the time Willow knocked on Giles' door. There had been no sign of Buffy at the dorm, just a message on the answering machine saying that Riley had two days leave from his Initiative duties so Buffy would be staying with him until he was back on duty.

Willow had spent most of the day lost in thought. She almost felt as though she were going mad - she could not explain why she had acted in that way with Spike. OK, so she might sometimes wish in her fantasies that she could be a dominating sex goddess, but in reality - it just wasn't her. (I mean, Vamp Willow and black leather, OK, but non-vamp, souly Willow - no, no no, not a seducer of big, bad vampires.)

Also, how had she survived last night's attack? If someone - or something - had staked the vampire who had been draining her, who was it? And why had they simply left her there?

Willow was also concerned about her dreams. She had had enough of them by now to have to take them seriously. But what was it all about? And why her?

Willow was conscious that the dreams had made some tangible changes in her. She could still feel the heat flowing through her, and she could somehow sense people around her - even without seeing or hearing them, like with the vampires last night.

And most of all, at the bottom of all her concerns, was the suggestion that the Servants of Gaia mentioned in her dream could be demons - and that they could somehow be connected to her.

These worries had been enough to land her on Giles' doorstep, with little idea of what she would tell him but knowing that if anyone could help unravel her dream it was the former Watcher.

Giles opened the door and looked vaguely surprised to see Willow standing there. "Willow! Ah, come in, come in. Is everything alright?"

And with that Willow found herself pouring out her heart to Giles, telling him about the dreams, the strange sensations she had been feeling, and the vampire attack last night. She even stammered out about Ms Calendar's appearance in her dream. She left out any reference to Spike, but even so Giles looked overwhelmed by the time her monologue rambled to a close.

Giles slowly polished his glasses before saying "The Servants of Gaia? That sounds familiar ... I think there is a reference in Von Menken's Compendium." And so Giles switched into research mode, accepting everything Willow had said without question, it never occurring to him that she would say anything other than the truth. And by his actions he proved to Willow that she had one true friend at least, who was able to accept her as she was and who was willing to help her in times of need. Together they dug out the most promising books, and started to research.

Nearly two hours later Giles and Willow faced each other over Giles' dining table, two books lying open between them. Giles face was set with determination, Willow simply looked shocked.

"Perhaps the dream came to the wrong person, like misdirected mail," Willow said tentatively.

Giles simply peered at her over his glasses, saying reprovingly "I think not," in such final tones that Willow fell silent.

"What we need to do now is get hold of the book which these texts refer to, as that seems our best chance of learning more of the necessary details for the ritual."

"Do you know where we can get it?" Willow asked.

"Well, I know who has a copy, but he will not be eager to surrender it. I think the best thing is if you go yourself. We can't afford to waste any time judging from the speed with which the dreams are occurring."

While Willow sat fidgeting at the table, her dazed eyes running over the passages before her, Giles rifled through his address book before finding the number he needed and picking up the phone.

"Yes, hello? Yes, good afternoon Cordelia, this is Giles. Yes, very well thank you, actually ... Yes, yes, I see, however if I could speak to Wesley?" After a brief pause, Giles spoke again. "Yes, good afternoon Wesley, it's Rupert Giles ... Actually there is something, I wanted to know whether you still have that copy of Forenza's "Legend of the Servants"? ... Excellent. I was going to send Willow to collect it if I may, of course she will treat it with the utmost care ... I'm afraid I can't really discuss it at the moment ... Wonderful, this evening I should think. Let me write the address down ... Yes, of course, I do appreciate it, good bye."

"So," said Willow, breaking the silence, "I'm off to LA then?"

"Yes, just get the book and then come back. I will continue to research here, but I am certain that the Forenza book will be fundamental to understanding the relevant ritual."

"Why don't you just get Wesley to bring it himself? Or get Angel to bring it?"

Giles looked at her impatiently, then explained in his most ponderous voice: "I don't want Wesley to get involved. The less people who know about this the better. And while he obviously knows that something is going on from our need for the book, he will not discover anything more specific if he is safely in LA. As for Angel - Wesley knows enough about the book and its contents that he would never surrender it to a demon, even one with a soul. So you will have to bring it here, and I hope I have made it clear that you should act with speed and discretion."

"OK, except for one thing."

"Yes," said Giles testily, anxious to get back to his books.

"I can't drive."