Comment: Well, I don't know if midnight qualifies as "evening"... What can I say, there was a rerun of "War and Peace" on TV, and I was never one to resist Henry Fonda or Tolstoi, let alone both:) Chapter 5 coming up soon, promise. I can't believe this, but I actually having IDEAS here!! Special thanks to Orin for extensive and extremely helpful comments.


Chapter 4


Spike had been laying there, eyes closed, listening to a clock tick somewhere. He knew he was being watched, he could feel it on his skin. He strained his ears to catch some other sound, any sound that would help him decide if he was still at the Initiative's facilities under Sunnydale or - somewhere else.

Finally he opened his eyes. There was the readhaired girl, sitting in an armchair right in front of him. Watching him. Spike shifted uneasily under his blanket. Why would someone put a blaket over a person that was already dead, anyway? To prevent him from catching a bloody cold?

"What are you looking at?", he barked.

Willow had to repress a smile. Well, at least he was being his usual grumpy self. His harshness didn't make her afraid or shy, on the contrary, it eased her mind from the heavy thoughts and presentiments that had been weighing down on it. A little.

"You."

All Spike could do was blink, taken aback. Not that she had been unfriendly, she actually seemed rather concerned for him (now wonders upon wonders), but he wasn't used to this kind of directness from little Red. He tried to come up with a repartee with a sting to it, but his mind was all blurry, he couldn't focus. When he tried to get up on his elbow, he was overcome with nausea.

"Hey, you gotta take it easy for a while! Here, try some of this. It's still warm." Willow offered him a teacup ("Kiss the librarian"!) full of warm blood.

Spike grabbed for it, nostrils widening, and took a few sips greedily, not even tasting what he was drinking. Then he looked up, ridges protruding, eyes flaring yellow. He wanted to growl at the girl, to chase her away, but something restrained his demon. Instead, he averted his face until it looked human again. He didn't want her to see him like this.

"What happened? What am I doing here? And why am I feeling so bloody sick?"

"Don't you remember?" The girl was searching his face anxioulsy. Didn't like what she just saw, he supposed. Although - Spike had the strangest feeling she was looking for something, waiting for something... Ah, bloody hell, this headache was going to kill him! - so to speak.

Willow hesitated. Should she tell him what had really happened right away? Spike was apt to run havoc on her and then collapse again out of shear weakness. But no, she couldn't lie to him. This was too serious, and he would hate her if he found out later that she hadn't told him. Besides, she didn't want anyone else to tell him. After seeing him in his cell, after what had happened there, this was a personal matter to her. Did he remember, she wondered?

"The Initiative got you again. They had you isolated in a cell in their facilities under the town. We just got you out."

His expression didn't change. Willow drew a deep breath and carried on.

"You were very weak, could hardly speak or move. Did these - did they feed you at all?"

But Spike wasn't listening to her anymore, he was looking through her. White walls all around him, above him, beneath him, everywhere. No solacing shadow to escape to, to hide in. And the steady, low hum of the lights, burrowing into his mind, louder and louder, until there was nothing else, only that sound, and the light, and the sound, and he was nothing but a scream -

There it was: the pain, the wild hopelessness in his eyes. Oh, whoever could do something like this to someone as tough as Spike deserved to be punished. Yes, this had to stop. Willow wanted to reach out to him and tell him it would be allright, they would never hurt him again, and then, that tortured look in his eyes would disappear and everything WOULD be allright... But she knew that Spike wouldn't want to be comforted right now.

Suddenly, Spike was shaken by violent spasms. It almost sounded as if he was fighting for breath, wich was impossible, since he didn't need to breathe. His hands clawed into thin air, the heels of his boots banged against the couch's armrest. Willow jumped up and rushed to his side, but he shoved her away.

"No! I'm fine - I just..."

Willow sat down and waited patiently until he was calm again. She didn't even try to conceal the pain and worry on her face, and Spike gazed at her in wonder for a moment before speaking again.

"I remember... I remember the cell. I thought they would come and do some experiments, something with my chip, you know?"

Willow nodded.

"But they didn't come." He was staring past her again. He remembered now, trying to keep track of the time counting to thousand and then starting again, using the buttons of his duster just as if... the image of a rosary popped into his mind. Spike shuddred. But then he couldn't arrange the numbers properly in his mind anymore, so he tried to think of songs, stories, even poems he had written. But by that time all he could do was listen to that noise, to that godawful noise, and wish for it to stop, but it wouldn't, it wouldn't...

For a second he looked almost dumbfounded. Then his expression snapped to alertness again. "How did you get me out of there exactly?"

"Well, it wasn't that difficult to bypass their oh-so-secret security system, you know. These guys seem to think everyone is so afraid of their might and power no one would even try to cheat on them. And there was this demon-ritual going on wich Buffy and the others were taking care of, and all the demons in the other cells were... well, extremely lively" - Willow winked and smiled mischievously at this, and was pleased when he smiled back, a rather confused smile though - " and had the G.I.-Joe's really busy, so, anyway, it was practically a walk in the park. No big deal."

"No big deal." Spike's eyes narrowed. "You mean you went in there on your own?"

"Well... yes, I told you, Buffy and Giles and Xander had to prevent the end of the world!"

"Again?" Spike rolled his eyes. "Why don't they get a hobby, like modelling bloody trains or knitting navy-sweaters or something? Anyway, what did you do, transport me out of there, as in 'Scotty, beam me up'? You didn't carry me, and I didn't walk, that's for sure, not in the state I was in."

Why was it that he didn't seem to mind speaking to Willow about the pitiful state he had been in? Or, worse, knowing that she had actually seen him like that? He would rather have his heart slowly chewed to pieces by rabid rats than have Buffy know about it, or that stupid Xander. Must be that he still wasn't in his right senses. Must be that. Too bloody weak...

"You walked." The girl was staring straight into his eyes, with something burning in them that Spike had never seen there before, something like - pride?

Suddenly, there was a flash of white flesh in his mind, flesh all soaked in blood. A sweet, fresh taste on his lips, his tongue. A pair of calm eyes...

"I bit you?", he shouted, forgetting about the chip. "Did I?"

There was no good reason to be so terribly upset, now was there?

"No, you didn't. I cut myself. With the needle on my pin." The same steady, unwavering look, straight into his eyes, holding them. Was she using a spell on him? What was this little brat doing to him? And had he drank her blood? Had she offered it to him freely? Did she even know what that meant?

"Well good morning, slept well, old chap?"

Giles spoke louder than usual. Quickly he stepped across the room and placed himself in front of the couch on wich Spike was still laying. He didn't like the heavy atmosphere in there, and it wasn't from closed windows. Something - tingled in the air, some kind of static or electricity, and there was the strangest look on Willow's face. And Spike, Spike was staring at her as if - Giles couldn't quite place his expression, but he was sure he had seen it somewhere before.

As Spike turned around and began to cuss out Giles, Willow quietly withdrew, gathered her things and slipped out of the door, without any of the two men noticing.