Disclaimer: See chapter 1, or 6.
PART 7
"Leaving," Willow repeated for the third time, tossing a wide smile at her overbearing vampire companion. "Well, yay. It's about time. Are we going home? 'Cause I can't wait to see Tara and--"
Spike interrupted her and ignored her question, which she found rather suspicious.
"Hey, if you want to end up running from dinosaurs, be my guest, but I, for one, would like to end up in the right place, and the right time. And, I also wanted to make sure nothing went wrong with Angelus, because... as much as I hate to admit it, I need him." Leaning against the dresser, Spike folded his arms across his chest, watching Willow pace around the cramped space.
She stopped right in front of him and put her hands on her hips. "Make sure nothing went wrong with Angel? Like what, Spike? Like make sure someone didn't kick Liam when he was down and then allow them to be drawn into a fight with him?" she asked sarcastically. "You know, you could've told me what you'd done weeks ago." She flopped into the chair in front of the bed, her skirts billowing around her. Spike watched in amusement as she tried to get comfortable in her seat. It was a vain attempt, soon given up.
He shouldn't have told her, should've kept it to himself. But, she had asked, and he had told her. "Doesn't matter now. And how was I supposed to know he was awake when I kicked him?"
She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Oh, I don't know, listen for a change in breathing, or heartbeat?"
"All this sarcasm in one so young," he lamented. "Look, Angel was an ass. Back then... now, I mean, and in the future. Toleration was about as good as it got between us. If it hadn't been for Dru, I'd have left long before he got his soul."
"So are we going home then?" she asked again.
"No." He took a deep breath, and steeled himself. "I've a hankering to see my sire." Trying to get past this anger she'd had for him since this morning, he kept his tone light.
Willow closed her eyes, sinking back into the chair. "When?"
"Eighteen-sixty." He pushed away from the dresser, opening one of the drawers. "Since you can't seem to find anything on the spell, I figured why not just... go for it. I got all the stuff we need right here."
"How convenient," Willow sighed. "Spike, have you at all stopped to consider that, maybe I don't want to traipse around Europe with you? I mean, this whole extra healing thing is cool and all, but definitely not worth it. I miss Buffy and Xander, and Tara, and Giles, and... I want to go home."
Spike tossed the candles and sea salt on the bed. "I considered it. And then I remembered that I don't give a flying-- wait a minute. What extra healing thing?"
She pushed her hair back, revealing the healed bite marks there. Spike's eyes narrowed on her, and she had the sudden urge to shrink back, which she did. His eyes followed her, and then his body. He reached out and grabbed her arm, yanking her closer. His hand roughly shoved her head to the side.
"What the bloody hell is this? You said the others healed from the spell... you lied?" he asked in disbelief.
Willow shuddered when his fingers traced the scars on her neck, but her voice was strong when she replied. "No, I didn't-- well, yeah, actually, I did. But, what was I supposed to do? Tell you that I'm basically an all you can eat buffet, and that I'll never be off the menu?" Her eyes widened at her confession, and she swallowed nervously. "Um, I didn't, 'cause of the way you're looking at me right now." She backed away nervously, holding her hand against his chest, halting his progress toward her. "Spike... you don't want to eat me. I'm not very tasty. Pretty scrawny and icky in fact."
Spike chuckled darkly, reaching around her. She jerked away from his hand and ended up plastered against his chest. Oh, frying pan, fire, how I have missed thee, she thought, moving back.
"Holy water cocktails, remember? Unless that was a lie too?" He raised an eyebrow at her in question, and tossed the candle he'd picked up from the bed back and forth in his hands.
She shook her head. "Not a lie. I just didn't want to go through all the pain it would take to, um, teach you a lesson." Okay, so it had been a lie. Only not on purpose. She had fully intended to have a glass of water blessed daily and drink it down. But, the only priest in town, Father McNeil, wanted to know why she wanted a glass of water blessed. He'd started to talk about witchcraft, and wondered why she was out alone... and it was just more of a hassle than she wanted. Besides, the threat was out there, and hopefully it was enough to deter him.
He tossed her a wink. "Doesn't have to hurt."
"So not going there." And then she went there anyway. "It doesn't? 'Cause I've been bitten five times, four since you forced me to do this stupid spell, and each and every one of them hurt. Yours included."
"Six times. I bit you in the warehouse. Which proves my point."
Her hand raised to her neck, and she pushed him away from her. The mirror was crappy, but it was the only one there. She stomped over to the dresser and leaned forward, examining her scars. One on the left side of her neck, courtesy of Harmony. Two on the right side, courtesy of Pete and Spike. She tilted her head back slightly, looking at the one just under her jaw on the left. And, one more on her right shoulder. Faintly, she could see that there were actually three bite marks on the right side of her neck. "Why did you bite me? When?"
"Told you. In the warehouse." He grinned at her. "Wasn't just naughty licking I was doing, pet. The spell called for one of two things. Shagging or biting." He shrugged and tossed the candles on the bed. "If you want to do the shagging--"
"Uh, no," she said, backing away from him. Again. Boy, she must be making him feel all manly. Since this whole thing had started, she'd done nothing but run from him, and ward him off. "Biting worked. I'm good. You good?" She nodded and smiled. "Good. So. You want to do the spell now? Or..."
"Now. Change back into you clothes and wrap the new ones up in a sheet or something. Just in case they don't make the leap with us. Don't want to land in the middle of London without any clothes on." His leer at her said otherwise.
"Yes, sir." She saluted him and clicked her heels together, then went about gathering their clothes. Spike was already wearing his Sunnydale clothes minus his T-Shirt, which she now used as a nightshirt. She sat on the bed and slid her jeans under her numerous skirts, easily sliding them over her hips and buttoning them. The shirt was a little harder. She took it under the dress, and pulled the bodice off and up until she was under the skirts, then slid his T-Shirt over her head and pulled it down. Yanking the dress off of her, she tossed it onto the bed and stood up.
Spike was standing in the middle of the room, grinning and shaking his head at her. "I would've turned around if you'd asked." He laughed at her disgruntled expression and grabbed the jar of sea salt.
"Why wouldn't the clothes make the trip? In all the books I've read since we got here, I didn't see one reference to material items not making the big Quantum Leap." She balled up her gowns, and stood waiting.
He shrugged, taking her clothes from her so she could draw the circle with the sea salt. "I don't know. It was just a thought. The candles and bowl of crap you burned in the warehouse didn't make the trip. I figured, better safe than sorry, right? Unless of course you *want* to end up naked in the middle of the street or something." And again, there was a whole lot of leering.
"Well," pressing the cork stopper back in the jar of sea salt, she set it down outside the circle and took the white porcelain basin Spike offered her, "those didn't come because they were part of the ritual. Our clothes aren't."
"Right, makes sense. Want me to turn around this time?"
His snicker of amusement had her sighing in annoyance. He was enjoying himself way too much. If she didn't know better, which she didn't, she'd think he made that up just to put her through dressing and undressing. "Nope. I'll just slip the gown on over my jeans and stuff. If people think it's weird, I'll just blame it on you somehow."
"Yeah," he chuckled, tossing the blue gown at her, "you do that."
She caught it, but just barely. Most of the circle she'd just drawn was now smudged and broken. "Jerk." Slipping the gown on, she quickly did up the buttons, which meant it only took five minutes instead of ten. The fit was a little tight, but at least she wouldn't stick out like a sore thumb.
Spike kept his Sunnydale clothes on, took the sheet from the bed and tossed the rest of their clothes in the middle of the sheet and wrapped it up, tying the ends. While he was busy with that, she checked the room, just to make sure she wasn't leaving anything behind... like, say, her bloodied blouse. She shoved it into the bundle, lifted her skirts and checked her front pocket for the scrap of cloth from Spike's shirt. When her hand closed around it, she relaxed, and re-drew the circle.
"Let's do it," she said.
PART 7
"Leaving," Willow repeated for the third time, tossing a wide smile at her overbearing vampire companion. "Well, yay. It's about time. Are we going home? 'Cause I can't wait to see Tara and--"
Spike interrupted her and ignored her question, which she found rather suspicious.
"Hey, if you want to end up running from dinosaurs, be my guest, but I, for one, would like to end up in the right place, and the right time. And, I also wanted to make sure nothing went wrong with Angelus, because... as much as I hate to admit it, I need him." Leaning against the dresser, Spike folded his arms across his chest, watching Willow pace around the cramped space.
She stopped right in front of him and put her hands on her hips. "Make sure nothing went wrong with Angel? Like what, Spike? Like make sure someone didn't kick Liam when he was down and then allow them to be drawn into a fight with him?" she asked sarcastically. "You know, you could've told me what you'd done weeks ago." She flopped into the chair in front of the bed, her skirts billowing around her. Spike watched in amusement as she tried to get comfortable in her seat. It was a vain attempt, soon given up.
He shouldn't have told her, should've kept it to himself. But, she had asked, and he had told her. "Doesn't matter now. And how was I supposed to know he was awake when I kicked him?"
She pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Oh, I don't know, listen for a change in breathing, or heartbeat?"
"All this sarcasm in one so young," he lamented. "Look, Angel was an ass. Back then... now, I mean, and in the future. Toleration was about as good as it got between us. If it hadn't been for Dru, I'd have left long before he got his soul."
"So are we going home then?" she asked again.
"No." He took a deep breath, and steeled himself. "I've a hankering to see my sire." Trying to get past this anger she'd had for him since this morning, he kept his tone light.
Willow closed her eyes, sinking back into the chair. "When?"
"Eighteen-sixty." He pushed away from the dresser, opening one of the drawers. "Since you can't seem to find anything on the spell, I figured why not just... go for it. I got all the stuff we need right here."
"How convenient," Willow sighed. "Spike, have you at all stopped to consider that, maybe I don't want to traipse around Europe with you? I mean, this whole extra healing thing is cool and all, but definitely not worth it. I miss Buffy and Xander, and Tara, and Giles, and... I want to go home."
Spike tossed the candles and sea salt on the bed. "I considered it. And then I remembered that I don't give a flying-- wait a minute. What extra healing thing?"
She pushed her hair back, revealing the healed bite marks there. Spike's eyes narrowed on her, and she had the sudden urge to shrink back, which she did. His eyes followed her, and then his body. He reached out and grabbed her arm, yanking her closer. His hand roughly shoved her head to the side.
"What the bloody hell is this? You said the others healed from the spell... you lied?" he asked in disbelief.
Willow shuddered when his fingers traced the scars on her neck, but her voice was strong when she replied. "No, I didn't-- well, yeah, actually, I did. But, what was I supposed to do? Tell you that I'm basically an all you can eat buffet, and that I'll never be off the menu?" Her eyes widened at her confession, and she swallowed nervously. "Um, I didn't, 'cause of the way you're looking at me right now." She backed away nervously, holding her hand against his chest, halting his progress toward her. "Spike... you don't want to eat me. I'm not very tasty. Pretty scrawny and icky in fact."
Spike chuckled darkly, reaching around her. She jerked away from his hand and ended up plastered against his chest. Oh, frying pan, fire, how I have missed thee, she thought, moving back.
"Holy water cocktails, remember? Unless that was a lie too?" He raised an eyebrow at her in question, and tossed the candle he'd picked up from the bed back and forth in his hands.
She shook her head. "Not a lie. I just didn't want to go through all the pain it would take to, um, teach you a lesson." Okay, so it had been a lie. Only not on purpose. She had fully intended to have a glass of water blessed daily and drink it down. But, the only priest in town, Father McNeil, wanted to know why she wanted a glass of water blessed. He'd started to talk about witchcraft, and wondered why she was out alone... and it was just more of a hassle than she wanted. Besides, the threat was out there, and hopefully it was enough to deter him.
He tossed her a wink. "Doesn't have to hurt."
"So not going there." And then she went there anyway. "It doesn't? 'Cause I've been bitten five times, four since you forced me to do this stupid spell, and each and every one of them hurt. Yours included."
"Six times. I bit you in the warehouse. Which proves my point."
Her hand raised to her neck, and she pushed him away from her. The mirror was crappy, but it was the only one there. She stomped over to the dresser and leaned forward, examining her scars. One on the left side of her neck, courtesy of Harmony. Two on the right side, courtesy of Pete and Spike. She tilted her head back slightly, looking at the one just under her jaw on the left. And, one more on her right shoulder. Faintly, she could see that there were actually three bite marks on the right side of her neck. "Why did you bite me? When?"
"Told you. In the warehouse." He grinned at her. "Wasn't just naughty licking I was doing, pet. The spell called for one of two things. Shagging or biting." He shrugged and tossed the candles on the bed. "If you want to do the shagging--"
"Uh, no," she said, backing away from him. Again. Boy, she must be making him feel all manly. Since this whole thing had started, she'd done nothing but run from him, and ward him off. "Biting worked. I'm good. You good?" She nodded and smiled. "Good. So. You want to do the spell now? Or..."
"Now. Change back into you clothes and wrap the new ones up in a sheet or something. Just in case they don't make the leap with us. Don't want to land in the middle of London without any clothes on." His leer at her said otherwise.
"Yes, sir." She saluted him and clicked her heels together, then went about gathering their clothes. Spike was already wearing his Sunnydale clothes minus his T-Shirt, which she now used as a nightshirt. She sat on the bed and slid her jeans under her numerous skirts, easily sliding them over her hips and buttoning them. The shirt was a little harder. She took it under the dress, and pulled the bodice off and up until she was under the skirts, then slid his T-Shirt over her head and pulled it down. Yanking the dress off of her, she tossed it onto the bed and stood up.
Spike was standing in the middle of the room, grinning and shaking his head at her. "I would've turned around if you'd asked." He laughed at her disgruntled expression and grabbed the jar of sea salt.
"Why wouldn't the clothes make the trip? In all the books I've read since we got here, I didn't see one reference to material items not making the big Quantum Leap." She balled up her gowns, and stood waiting.
He shrugged, taking her clothes from her so she could draw the circle with the sea salt. "I don't know. It was just a thought. The candles and bowl of crap you burned in the warehouse didn't make the trip. I figured, better safe than sorry, right? Unless of course you *want* to end up naked in the middle of the street or something." And again, there was a whole lot of leering.
"Well," pressing the cork stopper back in the jar of sea salt, she set it down outside the circle and took the white porcelain basin Spike offered her, "those didn't come because they were part of the ritual. Our clothes aren't."
"Right, makes sense. Want me to turn around this time?"
His snicker of amusement had her sighing in annoyance. He was enjoying himself way too much. If she didn't know better, which she didn't, she'd think he made that up just to put her through dressing and undressing. "Nope. I'll just slip the gown on over my jeans and stuff. If people think it's weird, I'll just blame it on you somehow."
"Yeah," he chuckled, tossing the blue gown at her, "you do that."
She caught it, but just barely. Most of the circle she'd just drawn was now smudged and broken. "Jerk." Slipping the gown on, she quickly did up the buttons, which meant it only took five minutes instead of ten. The fit was a little tight, but at least she wouldn't stick out like a sore thumb.
Spike kept his Sunnydale clothes on, took the sheet from the bed and tossed the rest of their clothes in the middle of the sheet and wrapped it up, tying the ends. While he was busy with that, she checked the room, just to make sure she wasn't leaving anything behind... like, say, her bloodied blouse. She shoved it into the bundle, lifted her skirts and checked her front pocket for the scrap of cloth from Spike's shirt. When her hand closed around it, she relaxed, and re-drew the circle.
"Let's do it," she said.
