SUMMARY: Spike gets a new toy he wasn't expecting, and Willow finds out that life--and Gods--can sometimes throw humans for a loop.
TITLE: Order Now
AUTHOR: sinecure
PAIRING: W/S (2/?)
RATED: R
DISCLAIMER: Joss and ME own BtVS, I don't, and the way these past seasons are going, I'm glad I don't.
DEDICATED: To Claudia, because, not only is she the best beta ever, but she's also quite the friend. She kicks ass on grammar--just call her the Hyphen Queen, I do--spelling, characterization, plot. She makes my job a whole hell of a lot easier... even when she's killing my poor little defenseless plot-babies. ;)
PART 2
"Stay there," Spike told Willow, starting to shut the trap door on her loving smile. Jerking it open again, he added, "And don't come up unless I say it's okay. For any reason. Got it?"
Willow nodded, smiling a little in confusion. "Where are you going, Spike? Why can't I come with you?"
"Uh," he tried to think of a convincing lie, then wondered why the hell he was bothering. "I'm going to the Bronze. I need a beer or ten. Stay here. And keep quiet."
She nodded eagerly. "Anything for you, my Blonde God." She bent down to keep him in sight as he started to shut the door, the lantern light behind her keeping her mostly in shadows. "Come back for me soon so we can make love over and over again."
"Right," he agreed, slamming the door shut. He stood up, dusting off his jeans and headed out the door into the cool night. "She calls me that again, I'm definitely deactivating her."
The cemetery was dark, no moon lighting his way. No streetlights to blind him as he passed beneath them. And no Slayer to beat him up for annoying her. That was a good thing though, right?
Although, at times, it did turn him on more than off. Still, it got to be old hat sometimes. Leaving his cemetery behind, he headed for the Bronze, making sure he had money enough to pay for a few beers. Dusting vamps had its perks.
The streets were rather quiet, almost too quiet. It made him a bit nervous. His skin started to crawl, his hair rising on the back of his neck. Something was going down tonight. Shrugging his shoulders back to loosen the tight muscles, he continued on his way to the Bronze. Whatever was going on, he wasn't a part of it, and didn't care. Even if Buffy was up against something big. Something bad.
Glory.
Growling in annoyance and disgust at himself, he ran back the way he'd come, turning left instead of right at the corner of Wilshire. The Magic Box was the most likely place to find information, so he headed there. The lights of the main street in downtown Sunnydale were as brightly lit as a haunted house. No wonder this place was a demon magnet, he thought darkly, the Hellmouth probably only played a small part in it. Dark streets and ignorant people played the bigger part. He'd certainly found it a big help to snack on the populace when he was still able to.
Rounding the corner at a dead run, he went right past the Espresso Pump and straight up to the Magic Box. Lights were on inside, big surprise. Stopping outside the door, he didn't take the time to look inside before yanking the door open and going in.
No one tossed insults at him. Dawn didn't greet him happily, not that she would anyway given her mum's death and all. But she usually at least had a 'hello' for him. Someone always groaned when he came in, someone always tossed insults his way, and Anya always looked up hopefully from behind the counter, expecting rich, paying customers. At the moment though, the store was empty except for one person, and she was the last person he wanted to see right now.
She looked up from behind the register, biting her lip guiltily. Her hands grabbed something from the counter, sticking whatever it was on a shelf in front of her. She frowned, staring at the door behind him. "I thought I locked that." Her eyes found his, her brows raising innocently. "Uh, hi."
He grinned at her, knowing full well what she was doing. "Stealing supplies again? Didn't we learn our lesson the last time? Big ogre. Lots of damage."
"No," she denied, shaking her head for extra measure. "No, I'm not... well, yes I am, but I'm fully planning on paying for them. Uh, you know, sometime not tonight."
"Right," he agreed. They both knew she had no intention of paying for her things. Glancing around idly, he looked up at the second level. "Where's, uh--"
"She's on a quest," Willow interrupted, hefting her five-fingered items back up on the counter. "Won't be back for hours probably." A jar of what looked like pickled eggs was set on the counter by the cash register. She turned the jar, leaning down to peer into the murky liquid as she scribbled on a pad in beside the jar.
"Oh. Then no nasties tonight, huh? No Glory?" He hopped up on the counter, hefting the jar in his hands as he settled comfortably beside the cash register. The liquid inside sloshed as he tossed it lightly into the air. "I was looking for a bit of a fight. Something to occupy me for a bit."
"Hey! Hey!" She watched him anxiously. After the third toss, she reached out and caught the jar, yanking it from him in irritation. "Give me that."
He sighed, thoroughly bored with the world at the moment. "Nothing on the agenda then?" Tapping a beat on the counter, he raised a questioning eyebrow at her.
She glanced up momentarily before going back to peering at the jar. Not telling him how sexy he was when he raised his eyebrow. The minute disappointment was gone almost before it appeared.
"Nope. Tara's watching Dawn. Xander and Anya are patrolling, and I'm--"
"Stealing from Giles," he said with a grin.
She snorted, all defensive-like, acting the little innocent. "I'm steal-- taking these pickled Lornack eyes for a reason, thank you very much." She pulled a spell book from the shelf below. Opening the book to a marked page, she scribbled on her paper some more.
"That reason being...?" He leaned over to read what she was writing, squinting at her small, flowing script. "Maybe I can help. What do you need a--" he raised his eyes to her face, widening them in surprise. "Condom?" he laughed. "What sort of spell is it we're doing exactly?" He waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively. "Because, I'd be glad to offer my services."
"Keep your services to yourself," she told him, barely lifting her eyes to him in irritation. "It says condor. Specifically a condor's feather."
He shrugged, glancing at the paper. "Looked like condom to me. Don't blame me if you're writing is illegible," he protested, holding a hand to his chest as his eyes dropped to hers.
She set the pad and pencil down with a sigh, turning more fully to him. "Do you... need something? Is this a--"
"Do you have any birthmarks?" he asked curiously, looking up from his perusal of her chest to find her watching him suspiciously. His eyes slid back down to her naked neck, enjoying the view. The bot was so close in design to this Willow's flesh, the color was right. The pale shade was dead on. But the real Willow had freckles. Lots of them, spread all over her chest, neck, and shoulders, pale and almost indiscernible, but there. Maybe he'd take his bot back to Warren and have him add those in.
Though why bother? He'd have his Buffy bot soon enough.
She backed away slightly, widening her eyes at him suspiciously. "What? Why?" Her hand shot out to the counter, picking up her pencil and holding it aloft threateningly. "Is it still working?" she asked, her voice only shaking a little. "The chip. Does the chip still work?"
He hopped down from the counter, moving away to give her room to feel safe. And to help him feel safe from the pencil in case she got trigger happy. "Every minute of every day."
"Oh." She moved closer to the counter again, staying firmly behind it. "Oh, good. That's-- that's good."
"Mm," was his only reply. He noticed she hadn't dropped the pencil yet. She was cautious, careful. Good. She should stay that way around him. He wasn't safe, he wasn't her friend, or-- anything. Deciding that now was a good time to leave, he turned on his heel and came face to face with one of the ugliest little trolls he'd ever seen. "What the hell is this?" he asked, moving closer to it. He grabbed it by its fluffy hair and lifted it to face level. The troll's beady little eyes stared back at him with a secretive smile, fully of... happy-thoughts.
"Um, oh," Willow said, coming around the counter to grab the doll from him. Her voice and face held a little embarrassment. She stroked the doll's bushy pink hair back, smoothing it away from the ugly brown face. "That's Freddy, um, it was mine. A-- a long time ago. When I was little. I was going to give it to Dawn. She's been kind of... well, you know, since Joyce..."
He nodded, taking the doll from her to look into its eternally happy face. "That thing is going to give her nightmares."
She chuckled, moving back to her books and pickled demon eyes. "Spike, she's the Slayer's sister. She's seen worse things than a troll doll." She lifted her eyes to him, gesturing in his general direction. "You, for instance."
"Me, right," he scoffed, waving a hand in dismissal. "Please. Oh, wait." Now that he thought about it, she'd just complimented him. "Yeah." He grinned, nodding happily. "You're right. I am worse than that thi-- not as ugly, but just as scary. Thanks, love."
She frowned, raising an eyebrow at him. "That wasn't actually a compli--"
He looked over at her from under his brows.
"Um, you're welcome." She smiled nervously, half watching him, half reading her spell book.
His eyes stayed on her long after she'd finished talking. She was beautiful. A gorgeous creature with so many possibilities to her. Her hair, redder than he'd ever seen it, was shorter than he liked, but a nice color and style. He preferred the color and style the bot had, but this was good too.
Realizing she was talking to him, he snapped his attention back to her. "What?"
"...here, Spike?" she was saying.
"What?" he repeated, frowning at the annoyed look she tossed him. "You got a bloody date? You can't spare five minutes of your time?" It infuriated him that that's all he was to these people anymore. A nuisance. He was a bloody evil vampire, feared throughout the world, and with good reason. What right did these puny humans have to be annoyed by his presence? Like he wasn't worthy of their time. It was the other way around. They weren't worthy of him.
And why was he even here anyway?
"No. No, it's not that. I just... well you're acting really weird. Staring. And-- and with the birthmark, and the fact that you're here at all." She sighed and closed the book, setting the pencil beside it. "You don't hang around me. Ever."
"So something has to be up for me to be near you?" he asked with a snort, knowing she was right. The most time he'd ever spent with her was when he wanted her to cast a spell. Or when he'd been actively trying to kill her. Or turn her. Of course, she wasn't going to stay dead long if he had a hand in it. "I just came to see how the little one was."
"Dawn," she said suspiciously. "You came all the way to the Magic Box to ask how Dawn is." She rolled her eyes, talking to him like he was ten. "And did you not think to go to--"
"What? Buffy's house?" he interrupted, stalking closer to the counter. "I don't seem to be welcome there anymore. A little witch uninvited me."
"Oh, boo hoo," she said scornfully. "You're evil. Right?"
He nodded, fighting the impulse to jump over the counter and tear her throat out. Or yank her over it. Either way worked for him.
"Well there's your reason right there. Get over it." Tearing the piece of paper from her pad, she folded it and stuck it into her back pocket. She grabbed a bag, shaking it open wide enough to slide her jar inside. A few more items followed, mostly small jars of herbs, a few claws and one condor feather.
He watched her silently, trying to figure out the best way to kill her without setting off the chip. Hiring someone else to do the deed was the best way, but he wanted her undead. Not dead-dead. So, maybe if he--
"Buffy has too much on her mind right now to deal with you too." Willow looked straight at him, waiting until she had his full attention before continuing. "So maybe you could just... leave her alone for a while." She grinned, chuckling as she grabbed her bag from the counter. "I'd say forever, but I don't see that happening."
She was right on both counts. Buffy did have a lot going on at the moment. And he was only adding to it. But he couldn't help himself. She was the flame and he was the bloody moth, trapped by her heat and her beauty. He couldn't resist her if he tried. And he had certainly tried. In every possible way, at every possible turn.
"Right," he agreed as she grabbed the other bag from the counter. He followed her to the door, inhaling subtly. She smelled so feminine. Like fruity things, with a hint of spice. Apples, he realized. Apples and cinnamon. Leaning closer to her as she reached for the light switch, he inhaled again. He'd have to get his robot some of that-- what was it? Not perfume. Soap, shampoo? "So what's the spell for?" he asked, trying to think of the best way to ask her how she got to smelling so good.
"Damn it," she said, setting both bags on the floor. She flicked off the far lights. "Could you, um," she tossed a look behind her at the counter. "Could you grab Freddy? Please?"
Heaving a heavy sigh, he went back and picked up the ugly little troll. Rolling his eyes, he shoved it into his pocket. "The spell?" he reminded her once they were outside. A whiff of cinnamon hit his nose and he moved closer, right behind her as she set her bags back down. Closing his eyes, he inhaled, letting the smell surround him. The heat from her body drifted toward him, and he caught his hands just before they settled on her shoulders.
She looked over her shoulder at him, frowning at his close proximity. "A little room here, Spike? Are you-- did you just sniff me?" she asked in a high voice.
What the hell was he doing? Stalking a few feet away, he shook himself, trying to rid his mind of her intoxicating smell and the feel of her warmth. "Oh, right. That's what I'm doing, sniffing you." He rolled his eyes for good measure, hoping she bought his lies. "So, the spell?"
She turned from locking the door and stuck her keys in her pocket, avoiding looking his way. "Um, just a little thing. Not really important to anything." She darted a look up. "It's personal."
"Personal," he mused, taking in her flushed cheeks and hastily turned away eyes. His smile spread across his face, and he made no move to stop it. "You sure that wasn't condoms on the list?" he chuckled.
"I'm sure," she said seriously. "And don't you go telling Tara it was. Or anyone else for that matter. In fact, don't say anything about it. Ever. To anyone." Grabbing her bags from the sidewalk, she stomped past.
"Oh ho, Willow's got a secret," he said softly, hurrying to catch up with her. "Well now you've got my curiosity all piqued. You can't just say something like that and expect me to leave it alone."
"Can too." Her voice was all grumpy and irritated sounding. Again. Apparently, she really didn't like him. "And, look, just did."
"Mm," he agreed, stopping to light a cigarette. She continued walking without him, unaware of his eyes watching her every move. The sway of her hair. The curve of her hips. The bot was very close in shape, but he thought maybe the height was off just a bit. Willow was taller than the bot.
Drawing smoke into his lungs, he squinted through the haze of gray and shoved his pack back into his pocket. Instead of following her like he'd intended, badgering her for answers, he decided to go see Warren. Make a few adjustments. See if he couldn't figure out how to get his robot smelling like the real Willow.
___________________________________________________________________
Spike knocked on the door to Warren's house, glancing at his Willow bot as he waited. She was standing straight, her hands by her sides, a pleasantly expectant smile on her lips. She looked like she was readying herself for dinner with his parents.
He sighed lightly. "Relax, don't look so... robot-like."
She smiled in confusion. "Why would I look like a robot? I'm not--"
The door opened, halting the rest of her words. They both turned to see Warren's mum standing there. "Hello. Oh. You're a friend of Warren's, right?" she asked, taking in Spike's appearance with a slightly disapproving look.
"Yeah," Spike answered, "friends. We'll just--" he tried to go inside, knowing the way to Warren's basement laboratory, but his mum stepped in his way.
"I'm afraid he's not here," she said with no remorse whatsoever. "He's gone back to school." She smiled stiffly and attempted to shut the door.
"But, he has to be here," Willow said in desperation, frowning at the woman. "He's going to help me."
Spike groaned as Warren's mum fixed her eyes on the robot. "She didn't mean--" he squeezed Willow's hand, warning her to be quiet.
"Help you how?" the woman asked, her tone turning more disapproving by the second. "If you expect my son to... give you drugs, or-- or--"
"No," Willow interrupted, squeezing Spike's hand back, practically crushing his bones, "he's going to make me--"
"She's... uh, on meds," Spike told the older lady, smiling a bit, trying to smooth over the situation at the same time as he cursed himself for bothering. He needed information from the bastard's mother and he couldn't get that if he killed her. Or set Willow to killing her. "Could you give me his number so I can ring him?"
"No," she told him, shaking her head. "I don't know you, and I don't know what you want him for."
"He has... something of mine," Spike ground out, resisting the urge to vamp out and snack a bit. "I'd like to get it back."
"Oh," she said suddenly, looking to something out of sight of the door. She bent down and picked up a box, taped shut several times over. His box, full of his... Willow-stuff. "Is this yours then?" She peered at the box, turning it sideways trying to read something. "Are you Sp--" she glanced up with a frown. "Spike?"
"Yes, he is," Willow said happily. "He's Spike. My Blonde God."
He exhaled loudly, turning a warning look Willow's way. "Not now, love. The nice lady doesn't care to hear about that." Shaking his head at the situation he was in, he glanced at Warren's mum. "Yes, I'm Spike. That's my stuff. But he also--"
She handed him the box, practically tossing it at him, like it was contaminated. "That's yours then. Goodbye." She shut the door in their faces, and turned a few locks.
Spike glared at the door for a minute wondering where the hell Warren had gone. He'd left without making his Buffy robot. "Bloody... God damn... bastard," he finally ground out, turning on his heel and heading back to his crypt. He shoved the box of stuff into Willow's arms and ran his hands through his hair in irritation.
Willow followed along beside him silently, her eyes on him most of the time, but also on the surrounding darkness. "A vampire is coming," she told him. "Do you want me to use my unreliable magick on it?"
Spike snorted with laughter. Whoever had given Warren the specs for Willow had definitely done their homework. Sliding a stake from his pocket, he stepped in front of Willow, idly wondering if she really could do magick.
A vampire turned the corner, strolling unhurriedly down the street toward them, human guise in place.
"Hey," the vampire said as he passed by, nodding pleasantly. "Dinner time, eh?" He laughed, eyeing Willow with a smirk. "Have fun."
Spike watched the vampire, waiting to see if he'd make a move against them, but he simply continued on his way down the street.
"Why didn't he try to eat me?" she asked, also watching the vampire disappear. "Am I not appetizing enough?" Her lips pursed into a pout, her eyes dropping to the sidewalk.
"You're very appetizing," he assured her, feeling a sense of deja vu. She seemed to be acting more Willow-like. She'd even rambled on their way to Warren's. Had someone--the person or thing that'd made him get her--made adjustments to her?
___________________________________________________________________________
Willow set her bags gently on the floor of her bedroom, looking around curiously. It'd been a few months since she'd been here. Her parents were obviously dusting and that was about it. Nothing was out of place, not even a pencil in the cup on her desk. A pile of folded up clothes sat on top of her dresser. A book on her night stand.
It looked like she'd just left this morning instead of months ago.
Sighing, she closed the door with a quiet click. Spike's odd behavior from earlier was forgotten as she set her mind to doing her spell. She needed answers and those could only come from another spell. Taking each item from the bags, she lined them up on the floor in front of her and then grabbed her stash of candles from under the bed. Emergency candle supplies; she was probably the only girl in America who hid her candles and Marjoram.
A smile tilted her lips but was quickly gone again. Setting up her supplies and marking her circle with the candles only took a few minutes. It was the rest that would be the hard part.
Pulling the ceremonial bowl nearer to her, she slowly opened the jar of Lornack eyes. Staring inside the wide-mouthed jar at the huge, golf ball-sized eyes she wished she'd been insightful enough to bring a spoon or something to scoop one out. 'Cause this was grossness in the extreme.
Closing her eyes, she turned her head to the side, gagging at the smell wafting up from the jar, and slipped her hand inside. "Oh, ew," she whispered, feeling the cold, slimy water envelop her hand.
An eyeball touched the backs of her fingers and she squealed in disgust, yanking her hand free. Water flew across the room, dripping down the wall and door, it soaked from her hand into her jeans as she stared at the jar, willing herself to try again.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, she plunged her hand inside and wrapped her fingers around an eye. "Oh God, oh gross, ew, ew, ew." Holding the slimy eye in her hand, she pulled her hand free of the jar and almost dropped the eye in her haste to get rid of it. Flinging it into the bowl, cringing at the wet plunking sound it made when it plopped into the bowl, she frantically wiped her hands on her wet jeans.
She shuddered in disgust and shook her whole body as a shiver of revulsion swept through her. "Eugh! So, so gross!"
If it wasn't necessary for her to do the spell, she would be in the shower, scrubbing her hands and thighs. Everywhere the water and eyeball had touched. Just thinking about it was freaking her out. Needing to calm down, she wiped her hands dry on her jeans and picked up the jar of sea salt.
Climbing to her feet, she walked clockwise, drawing her circle. She pushed the stopper back into the jar and set it aside, kneeling toward the north, closing her eyes and focusing her breathing. In and out, slowly, purposely. She concentrated on her questions and calmed enough to start her spell.
Taking her silver athame with her, she climbed to her feet again and pointed it toward the north, walking clockwise around the circle three times.
With the way her spells had been going lately, she was taking no chances. This spell was being done by the book. Crossing all the t's and dotting all the i's. By the letter.
Digging her lighter out of her jean pocket, she knelt before the bowl, avoiding looking at the wet, slimy eyeball as much as possible as she lit the candles she'd placed around the bowl. Yellow candlelight filled the room, casting a pale glow around her and the items of her circle.
The sea salt began to shimmer as she added herbs to the bowl. A pinch of this, a twig of that. The claws were placed around the eye, four of them to represent the elements. The last item, the condor feather, was placed on top of the bowl. Resisting the urge to smirk at Spike's insistence that it was a condom, she sat back on her heels and closed her eyes.
Her hands raised from her thighs to hover over the bowl as she silently asked for protection.
"Goddess Diana, I bring an offering in return for answers. An eye of Lornack." She bowed her head in supplication, lowering her hands to the floor beside the bowl and waiting.
Time passed as she slipped into a trance. Minutes, possibly hours went by. The shimmering sand faded to a slight blue glow. The smell permeating the room faded. Darkness enveloped her.
"What do you ask of me?" a voice whispered in her mind.
Willow's eyes opened slowly, her head rising in search of the owner of the voice. A disembodied head floated in front of her, lighting the darkness of the... wherever she was. Glancing quickly around, she saw only blackness and the glowing head. Nervousness shot through her.
This could be bad. She hadn't had much experience with actually speaking to Goddesses and now she was here with one. Somewhere. Licking her dry lips, she lowered her head respectfully. "I seek answers to--"
The woman in front of her smiled. "You wish to know why you no longer find happiness with your lover."
Willow swallowed and nodded jerkily. Hearing someone else say it when she'd barely admitted it to herself was scary. It made things real, more than just her imagination. "Yes," she said softly, needing answers. Needing to know why she couldn't seem to be happy with Tara anymore. Something had happened and she suspected it was associated with the spell they'd done a few weeks back, asking for the full extent of their happiness to come through in all things. "Was it the spell we did? Did I--" she cleared her throat, dropping her eyes from the glowing face. "Did I do something wrong?"
She heard the smile in Diana's voice, though she kept her head down. "No. Your happiness lies elsewhere."
"But-- no," Willow disagreed, lifting her head and looking directly at Diana. "I love Tara. She's what makes me happy... or she used to before that stupid spell. It's her I want to be happy with. Not someone else."
Diana's smile faded, her eyes turning black. "You asked for happiness, we gave you happiness. Now you ask for it back?"
Fear shot through Willow. This wasn't Diana's good side anymore. She'd pissed her off, and the look Diana was giving her was frightening. "N-- no," she rushed to assure the Goddess. "I accept my gift. Thank you." Bowing her head, she closed her eyes and lifted the bowl as her offering. When nothing happened, she slowly opened her eyes.
Back in her room. Safely ensconced in her girlhood bedroom with an empty bowl and some burned down candles. Ugh, and some really stinky Lornack eyes in the open jar.
TITLE: Order Now
AUTHOR: sinecure
PAIRING: W/S (2/?)
RATED: R
DISCLAIMER: Joss and ME own BtVS, I don't, and the way these past seasons are going, I'm glad I don't.
DEDICATED: To Claudia, because, not only is she the best beta ever, but she's also quite the friend. She kicks ass on grammar--just call her the Hyphen Queen, I do--spelling, characterization, plot. She makes my job a whole hell of a lot easier... even when she's killing my poor little defenseless plot-babies. ;)
PART 2
"Stay there," Spike told Willow, starting to shut the trap door on her loving smile. Jerking it open again, he added, "And don't come up unless I say it's okay. For any reason. Got it?"
Willow nodded, smiling a little in confusion. "Where are you going, Spike? Why can't I come with you?"
"Uh," he tried to think of a convincing lie, then wondered why the hell he was bothering. "I'm going to the Bronze. I need a beer or ten. Stay here. And keep quiet."
She nodded eagerly. "Anything for you, my Blonde God." She bent down to keep him in sight as he started to shut the door, the lantern light behind her keeping her mostly in shadows. "Come back for me soon so we can make love over and over again."
"Right," he agreed, slamming the door shut. He stood up, dusting off his jeans and headed out the door into the cool night. "She calls me that again, I'm definitely deactivating her."
The cemetery was dark, no moon lighting his way. No streetlights to blind him as he passed beneath them. And no Slayer to beat him up for annoying her. That was a good thing though, right?
Although, at times, it did turn him on more than off. Still, it got to be old hat sometimes. Leaving his cemetery behind, he headed for the Bronze, making sure he had money enough to pay for a few beers. Dusting vamps had its perks.
The streets were rather quiet, almost too quiet. It made him a bit nervous. His skin started to crawl, his hair rising on the back of his neck. Something was going down tonight. Shrugging his shoulders back to loosen the tight muscles, he continued on his way to the Bronze. Whatever was going on, he wasn't a part of it, and didn't care. Even if Buffy was up against something big. Something bad.
Glory.
Growling in annoyance and disgust at himself, he ran back the way he'd come, turning left instead of right at the corner of Wilshire. The Magic Box was the most likely place to find information, so he headed there. The lights of the main street in downtown Sunnydale were as brightly lit as a haunted house. No wonder this place was a demon magnet, he thought darkly, the Hellmouth probably only played a small part in it. Dark streets and ignorant people played the bigger part. He'd certainly found it a big help to snack on the populace when he was still able to.
Rounding the corner at a dead run, he went right past the Espresso Pump and straight up to the Magic Box. Lights were on inside, big surprise. Stopping outside the door, he didn't take the time to look inside before yanking the door open and going in.
No one tossed insults at him. Dawn didn't greet him happily, not that she would anyway given her mum's death and all. But she usually at least had a 'hello' for him. Someone always groaned when he came in, someone always tossed insults his way, and Anya always looked up hopefully from behind the counter, expecting rich, paying customers. At the moment though, the store was empty except for one person, and she was the last person he wanted to see right now.
She looked up from behind the register, biting her lip guiltily. Her hands grabbed something from the counter, sticking whatever it was on a shelf in front of her. She frowned, staring at the door behind him. "I thought I locked that." Her eyes found his, her brows raising innocently. "Uh, hi."
He grinned at her, knowing full well what she was doing. "Stealing supplies again? Didn't we learn our lesson the last time? Big ogre. Lots of damage."
"No," she denied, shaking her head for extra measure. "No, I'm not... well, yes I am, but I'm fully planning on paying for them. Uh, you know, sometime not tonight."
"Right," he agreed. They both knew she had no intention of paying for her things. Glancing around idly, he looked up at the second level. "Where's, uh--"
"She's on a quest," Willow interrupted, hefting her five-fingered items back up on the counter. "Won't be back for hours probably." A jar of what looked like pickled eggs was set on the counter by the cash register. She turned the jar, leaning down to peer into the murky liquid as she scribbled on a pad in beside the jar.
"Oh. Then no nasties tonight, huh? No Glory?" He hopped up on the counter, hefting the jar in his hands as he settled comfortably beside the cash register. The liquid inside sloshed as he tossed it lightly into the air. "I was looking for a bit of a fight. Something to occupy me for a bit."
"Hey! Hey!" She watched him anxiously. After the third toss, she reached out and caught the jar, yanking it from him in irritation. "Give me that."
He sighed, thoroughly bored with the world at the moment. "Nothing on the agenda then?" Tapping a beat on the counter, he raised a questioning eyebrow at her.
She glanced up momentarily before going back to peering at the jar. Not telling him how sexy he was when he raised his eyebrow. The minute disappointment was gone almost before it appeared.
"Nope. Tara's watching Dawn. Xander and Anya are patrolling, and I'm--"
"Stealing from Giles," he said with a grin.
She snorted, all defensive-like, acting the little innocent. "I'm steal-- taking these pickled Lornack eyes for a reason, thank you very much." She pulled a spell book from the shelf below. Opening the book to a marked page, she scribbled on her paper some more.
"That reason being...?" He leaned over to read what she was writing, squinting at her small, flowing script. "Maybe I can help. What do you need a--" he raised his eyes to her face, widening them in surprise. "Condom?" he laughed. "What sort of spell is it we're doing exactly?" He waggled his eyebrows at her suggestively. "Because, I'd be glad to offer my services."
"Keep your services to yourself," she told him, barely lifting her eyes to him in irritation. "It says condor. Specifically a condor's feather."
He shrugged, glancing at the paper. "Looked like condom to me. Don't blame me if you're writing is illegible," he protested, holding a hand to his chest as his eyes dropped to hers.
She set the pad and pencil down with a sigh, turning more fully to him. "Do you... need something? Is this a--"
"Do you have any birthmarks?" he asked curiously, looking up from his perusal of her chest to find her watching him suspiciously. His eyes slid back down to her naked neck, enjoying the view. The bot was so close in design to this Willow's flesh, the color was right. The pale shade was dead on. But the real Willow had freckles. Lots of them, spread all over her chest, neck, and shoulders, pale and almost indiscernible, but there. Maybe he'd take his bot back to Warren and have him add those in.
Though why bother? He'd have his Buffy bot soon enough.
She backed away slightly, widening her eyes at him suspiciously. "What? Why?" Her hand shot out to the counter, picking up her pencil and holding it aloft threateningly. "Is it still working?" she asked, her voice only shaking a little. "The chip. Does the chip still work?"
He hopped down from the counter, moving away to give her room to feel safe. And to help him feel safe from the pencil in case she got trigger happy. "Every minute of every day."
"Oh." She moved closer to the counter again, staying firmly behind it. "Oh, good. That's-- that's good."
"Mm," was his only reply. He noticed she hadn't dropped the pencil yet. She was cautious, careful. Good. She should stay that way around him. He wasn't safe, he wasn't her friend, or-- anything. Deciding that now was a good time to leave, he turned on his heel and came face to face with one of the ugliest little trolls he'd ever seen. "What the hell is this?" he asked, moving closer to it. He grabbed it by its fluffy hair and lifted it to face level. The troll's beady little eyes stared back at him with a secretive smile, fully of... happy-thoughts.
"Um, oh," Willow said, coming around the counter to grab the doll from him. Her voice and face held a little embarrassment. She stroked the doll's bushy pink hair back, smoothing it away from the ugly brown face. "That's Freddy, um, it was mine. A-- a long time ago. When I was little. I was going to give it to Dawn. She's been kind of... well, you know, since Joyce..."
He nodded, taking the doll from her to look into its eternally happy face. "That thing is going to give her nightmares."
She chuckled, moving back to her books and pickled demon eyes. "Spike, she's the Slayer's sister. She's seen worse things than a troll doll." She lifted her eyes to him, gesturing in his general direction. "You, for instance."
"Me, right," he scoffed, waving a hand in dismissal. "Please. Oh, wait." Now that he thought about it, she'd just complimented him. "Yeah." He grinned, nodding happily. "You're right. I am worse than that thi-- not as ugly, but just as scary. Thanks, love."
She frowned, raising an eyebrow at him. "That wasn't actually a compli--"
He looked over at her from under his brows.
"Um, you're welcome." She smiled nervously, half watching him, half reading her spell book.
His eyes stayed on her long after she'd finished talking. She was beautiful. A gorgeous creature with so many possibilities to her. Her hair, redder than he'd ever seen it, was shorter than he liked, but a nice color and style. He preferred the color and style the bot had, but this was good too.
Realizing she was talking to him, he snapped his attention back to her. "What?"
"...here, Spike?" she was saying.
"What?" he repeated, frowning at the annoyed look she tossed him. "You got a bloody date? You can't spare five minutes of your time?" It infuriated him that that's all he was to these people anymore. A nuisance. He was a bloody evil vampire, feared throughout the world, and with good reason. What right did these puny humans have to be annoyed by his presence? Like he wasn't worthy of their time. It was the other way around. They weren't worthy of him.
And why was he even here anyway?
"No. No, it's not that. I just... well you're acting really weird. Staring. And-- and with the birthmark, and the fact that you're here at all." She sighed and closed the book, setting the pencil beside it. "You don't hang around me. Ever."
"So something has to be up for me to be near you?" he asked with a snort, knowing she was right. The most time he'd ever spent with her was when he wanted her to cast a spell. Or when he'd been actively trying to kill her. Or turn her. Of course, she wasn't going to stay dead long if he had a hand in it. "I just came to see how the little one was."
"Dawn," she said suspiciously. "You came all the way to the Magic Box to ask how Dawn is." She rolled her eyes, talking to him like he was ten. "And did you not think to go to--"
"What? Buffy's house?" he interrupted, stalking closer to the counter. "I don't seem to be welcome there anymore. A little witch uninvited me."
"Oh, boo hoo," she said scornfully. "You're evil. Right?"
He nodded, fighting the impulse to jump over the counter and tear her throat out. Or yank her over it. Either way worked for him.
"Well there's your reason right there. Get over it." Tearing the piece of paper from her pad, she folded it and stuck it into her back pocket. She grabbed a bag, shaking it open wide enough to slide her jar inside. A few more items followed, mostly small jars of herbs, a few claws and one condor feather.
He watched her silently, trying to figure out the best way to kill her without setting off the chip. Hiring someone else to do the deed was the best way, but he wanted her undead. Not dead-dead. So, maybe if he--
"Buffy has too much on her mind right now to deal with you too." Willow looked straight at him, waiting until she had his full attention before continuing. "So maybe you could just... leave her alone for a while." She grinned, chuckling as she grabbed her bag from the counter. "I'd say forever, but I don't see that happening."
She was right on both counts. Buffy did have a lot going on at the moment. And he was only adding to it. But he couldn't help himself. She was the flame and he was the bloody moth, trapped by her heat and her beauty. He couldn't resist her if he tried. And he had certainly tried. In every possible way, at every possible turn.
"Right," he agreed as she grabbed the other bag from the counter. He followed her to the door, inhaling subtly. She smelled so feminine. Like fruity things, with a hint of spice. Apples, he realized. Apples and cinnamon. Leaning closer to her as she reached for the light switch, he inhaled again. He'd have to get his robot some of that-- what was it? Not perfume. Soap, shampoo? "So what's the spell for?" he asked, trying to think of the best way to ask her how she got to smelling so good.
"Damn it," she said, setting both bags on the floor. She flicked off the far lights. "Could you, um," she tossed a look behind her at the counter. "Could you grab Freddy? Please?"
Heaving a heavy sigh, he went back and picked up the ugly little troll. Rolling his eyes, he shoved it into his pocket. "The spell?" he reminded her once they were outside. A whiff of cinnamon hit his nose and he moved closer, right behind her as she set her bags back down. Closing his eyes, he inhaled, letting the smell surround him. The heat from her body drifted toward him, and he caught his hands just before they settled on her shoulders.
She looked over her shoulder at him, frowning at his close proximity. "A little room here, Spike? Are you-- did you just sniff me?" she asked in a high voice.
What the hell was he doing? Stalking a few feet away, he shook himself, trying to rid his mind of her intoxicating smell and the feel of her warmth. "Oh, right. That's what I'm doing, sniffing you." He rolled his eyes for good measure, hoping she bought his lies. "So, the spell?"
She turned from locking the door and stuck her keys in her pocket, avoiding looking his way. "Um, just a little thing. Not really important to anything." She darted a look up. "It's personal."
"Personal," he mused, taking in her flushed cheeks and hastily turned away eyes. His smile spread across his face, and he made no move to stop it. "You sure that wasn't condoms on the list?" he chuckled.
"I'm sure," she said seriously. "And don't you go telling Tara it was. Or anyone else for that matter. In fact, don't say anything about it. Ever. To anyone." Grabbing her bags from the sidewalk, she stomped past.
"Oh ho, Willow's got a secret," he said softly, hurrying to catch up with her. "Well now you've got my curiosity all piqued. You can't just say something like that and expect me to leave it alone."
"Can too." Her voice was all grumpy and irritated sounding. Again. Apparently, she really didn't like him. "And, look, just did."
"Mm," he agreed, stopping to light a cigarette. She continued walking without him, unaware of his eyes watching her every move. The sway of her hair. The curve of her hips. The bot was very close in shape, but he thought maybe the height was off just a bit. Willow was taller than the bot.
Drawing smoke into his lungs, he squinted through the haze of gray and shoved his pack back into his pocket. Instead of following her like he'd intended, badgering her for answers, he decided to go see Warren. Make a few adjustments. See if he couldn't figure out how to get his robot smelling like the real Willow.
___________________________________________________________________
Spike knocked on the door to Warren's house, glancing at his Willow bot as he waited. She was standing straight, her hands by her sides, a pleasantly expectant smile on her lips. She looked like she was readying herself for dinner with his parents.
He sighed lightly. "Relax, don't look so... robot-like."
She smiled in confusion. "Why would I look like a robot? I'm not--"
The door opened, halting the rest of her words. They both turned to see Warren's mum standing there. "Hello. Oh. You're a friend of Warren's, right?" she asked, taking in Spike's appearance with a slightly disapproving look.
"Yeah," Spike answered, "friends. We'll just--" he tried to go inside, knowing the way to Warren's basement laboratory, but his mum stepped in his way.
"I'm afraid he's not here," she said with no remorse whatsoever. "He's gone back to school." She smiled stiffly and attempted to shut the door.
"But, he has to be here," Willow said in desperation, frowning at the woman. "He's going to help me."
Spike groaned as Warren's mum fixed her eyes on the robot. "She didn't mean--" he squeezed Willow's hand, warning her to be quiet.
"Help you how?" the woman asked, her tone turning more disapproving by the second. "If you expect my son to... give you drugs, or-- or--"
"No," Willow interrupted, squeezing Spike's hand back, practically crushing his bones, "he's going to make me--"
"She's... uh, on meds," Spike told the older lady, smiling a bit, trying to smooth over the situation at the same time as he cursed himself for bothering. He needed information from the bastard's mother and he couldn't get that if he killed her. Or set Willow to killing her. "Could you give me his number so I can ring him?"
"No," she told him, shaking her head. "I don't know you, and I don't know what you want him for."
"He has... something of mine," Spike ground out, resisting the urge to vamp out and snack a bit. "I'd like to get it back."
"Oh," she said suddenly, looking to something out of sight of the door. She bent down and picked up a box, taped shut several times over. His box, full of his... Willow-stuff. "Is this yours then?" She peered at the box, turning it sideways trying to read something. "Are you Sp--" she glanced up with a frown. "Spike?"
"Yes, he is," Willow said happily. "He's Spike. My Blonde God."
He exhaled loudly, turning a warning look Willow's way. "Not now, love. The nice lady doesn't care to hear about that." Shaking his head at the situation he was in, he glanced at Warren's mum. "Yes, I'm Spike. That's my stuff. But he also--"
She handed him the box, practically tossing it at him, like it was contaminated. "That's yours then. Goodbye." She shut the door in their faces, and turned a few locks.
Spike glared at the door for a minute wondering where the hell Warren had gone. He'd left without making his Buffy robot. "Bloody... God damn... bastard," he finally ground out, turning on his heel and heading back to his crypt. He shoved the box of stuff into Willow's arms and ran his hands through his hair in irritation.
Willow followed along beside him silently, her eyes on him most of the time, but also on the surrounding darkness. "A vampire is coming," she told him. "Do you want me to use my unreliable magick on it?"
Spike snorted with laughter. Whoever had given Warren the specs for Willow had definitely done their homework. Sliding a stake from his pocket, he stepped in front of Willow, idly wondering if she really could do magick.
A vampire turned the corner, strolling unhurriedly down the street toward them, human guise in place.
"Hey," the vampire said as he passed by, nodding pleasantly. "Dinner time, eh?" He laughed, eyeing Willow with a smirk. "Have fun."
Spike watched the vampire, waiting to see if he'd make a move against them, but he simply continued on his way down the street.
"Why didn't he try to eat me?" she asked, also watching the vampire disappear. "Am I not appetizing enough?" Her lips pursed into a pout, her eyes dropping to the sidewalk.
"You're very appetizing," he assured her, feeling a sense of deja vu. She seemed to be acting more Willow-like. She'd even rambled on their way to Warren's. Had someone--the person or thing that'd made him get her--made adjustments to her?
___________________________________________________________________________
Willow set her bags gently on the floor of her bedroom, looking around curiously. It'd been a few months since she'd been here. Her parents were obviously dusting and that was about it. Nothing was out of place, not even a pencil in the cup on her desk. A pile of folded up clothes sat on top of her dresser. A book on her night stand.
It looked like she'd just left this morning instead of months ago.
Sighing, she closed the door with a quiet click. Spike's odd behavior from earlier was forgotten as she set her mind to doing her spell. She needed answers and those could only come from another spell. Taking each item from the bags, she lined them up on the floor in front of her and then grabbed her stash of candles from under the bed. Emergency candle supplies; she was probably the only girl in America who hid her candles and Marjoram.
A smile tilted her lips but was quickly gone again. Setting up her supplies and marking her circle with the candles only took a few minutes. It was the rest that would be the hard part.
Pulling the ceremonial bowl nearer to her, she slowly opened the jar of Lornack eyes. Staring inside the wide-mouthed jar at the huge, golf ball-sized eyes she wished she'd been insightful enough to bring a spoon or something to scoop one out. 'Cause this was grossness in the extreme.
Closing her eyes, she turned her head to the side, gagging at the smell wafting up from the jar, and slipped her hand inside. "Oh, ew," she whispered, feeling the cold, slimy water envelop her hand.
An eyeball touched the backs of her fingers and she squealed in disgust, yanking her hand free. Water flew across the room, dripping down the wall and door, it soaked from her hand into her jeans as she stared at the jar, willing herself to try again.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, she plunged her hand inside and wrapped her fingers around an eye. "Oh God, oh gross, ew, ew, ew." Holding the slimy eye in her hand, she pulled her hand free of the jar and almost dropped the eye in her haste to get rid of it. Flinging it into the bowl, cringing at the wet plunking sound it made when it plopped into the bowl, she frantically wiped her hands on her wet jeans.
She shuddered in disgust and shook her whole body as a shiver of revulsion swept through her. "Eugh! So, so gross!"
If it wasn't necessary for her to do the spell, she would be in the shower, scrubbing her hands and thighs. Everywhere the water and eyeball had touched. Just thinking about it was freaking her out. Needing to calm down, she wiped her hands dry on her jeans and picked up the jar of sea salt.
Climbing to her feet, she walked clockwise, drawing her circle. She pushed the stopper back into the jar and set it aside, kneeling toward the north, closing her eyes and focusing her breathing. In and out, slowly, purposely. She concentrated on her questions and calmed enough to start her spell.
Taking her silver athame with her, she climbed to her feet again and pointed it toward the north, walking clockwise around the circle three times.
With the way her spells had been going lately, she was taking no chances. This spell was being done by the book. Crossing all the t's and dotting all the i's. By the letter.
Digging her lighter out of her jean pocket, she knelt before the bowl, avoiding looking at the wet, slimy eyeball as much as possible as she lit the candles she'd placed around the bowl. Yellow candlelight filled the room, casting a pale glow around her and the items of her circle.
The sea salt began to shimmer as she added herbs to the bowl. A pinch of this, a twig of that. The claws were placed around the eye, four of them to represent the elements. The last item, the condor feather, was placed on top of the bowl. Resisting the urge to smirk at Spike's insistence that it was a condom, she sat back on her heels and closed her eyes.
Her hands raised from her thighs to hover over the bowl as she silently asked for protection.
"Goddess Diana, I bring an offering in return for answers. An eye of Lornack." She bowed her head in supplication, lowering her hands to the floor beside the bowl and waiting.
Time passed as she slipped into a trance. Minutes, possibly hours went by. The shimmering sand faded to a slight blue glow. The smell permeating the room faded. Darkness enveloped her.
"What do you ask of me?" a voice whispered in her mind.
Willow's eyes opened slowly, her head rising in search of the owner of the voice. A disembodied head floated in front of her, lighting the darkness of the... wherever she was. Glancing quickly around, she saw only blackness and the glowing head. Nervousness shot through her.
This could be bad. She hadn't had much experience with actually speaking to Goddesses and now she was here with one. Somewhere. Licking her dry lips, she lowered her head respectfully. "I seek answers to--"
The woman in front of her smiled. "You wish to know why you no longer find happiness with your lover."
Willow swallowed and nodded jerkily. Hearing someone else say it when she'd barely admitted it to herself was scary. It made things real, more than just her imagination. "Yes," she said softly, needing answers. Needing to know why she couldn't seem to be happy with Tara anymore. Something had happened and she suspected it was associated with the spell they'd done a few weeks back, asking for the full extent of their happiness to come through in all things. "Was it the spell we did? Did I--" she cleared her throat, dropping her eyes from the glowing face. "Did I do something wrong?"
She heard the smile in Diana's voice, though she kept her head down. "No. Your happiness lies elsewhere."
"But-- no," Willow disagreed, lifting her head and looking directly at Diana. "I love Tara. She's what makes me happy... or she used to before that stupid spell. It's her I want to be happy with. Not someone else."
Diana's smile faded, her eyes turning black. "You asked for happiness, we gave you happiness. Now you ask for it back?"
Fear shot through Willow. This wasn't Diana's good side anymore. She'd pissed her off, and the look Diana was giving her was frightening. "N-- no," she rushed to assure the Goddess. "I accept my gift. Thank you." Bowing her head, she closed her eyes and lifted the bowl as her offering. When nothing happened, she slowly opened her eyes.
Back in her room. Safely ensconced in her girlhood bedroom with an empty bowl and some burned down candles. Ugh, and some really stinky Lornack eyes in the open jar.