They looked at three houses that night, and settled on one in Palatine,
which was just outside of Chicago proper. It was a charming two-story
brick house and it fit their parameters in every way. It was fully
furnished, had a nifty alarm system, and not only did it have a basement,
but it was a finished basement. It was also available for immediately
occupancy, which was probably more the deciding factor in choosing it.
All in all, the move into the house went rather smoothly. At least, in Angel's opinion. Willow had signed the lease, then got all the utilities turned on during the day. Once the sun had set, Spike had gone with her to get provisions. Unable to find curtains thick enough to keep the sun adequately out, she'd finally had to go to a fabric store and buy large swaths of a thick, dark green velvet material to hang over the windows.
Willow probably had a different opinion of the move, considering Spike's behavior during it all. True to form, he'd taken the opportunity to revert to type. She'd looked beseechingly at Angel several times, and pouted greatly when he hadn't done anything to reign Spike's complaining in. In all honesty, Angel had been having way too much fun watching her and Spike bicker to put a stop to it.
"A smidge to the left."
Willow dropped her side of a swatch of material and glared at Spike from atop an end table. "That's it," she exploded, stepping down. "I'll judge the straightness and you can hammer it in place."
Angel, still holding his side of material next to a window on the first floor, caught sight of the gleam in Spike's eyes and wondered if he should warn Willow. He decided not to. If she didn't already know, it was high time she learned.
Spike kicked the end table out of the way and took the hammer and nails that Willow shoved at him. She stepped back while Spike lifted the material and a few short directions later she gave the okay to nail it across the window. Angel took his time getting his nail set up, and watched Spike from the corner of his eye.
Sure enough, he purposely missed the nail and sent the hammer crashing into the wall, leaving a nice-sized dent.
"Oops," Spike said cheerfully. "Let me just try that again." Another hole was pummeled into the wall. "I guess carpentry's just not my thing."
Angel turned to Willow and saw that she was staring at Spike and the wall with resignation. "Never mind," she sighed, then eyed the holes again. "At least you marked where I need to nail it."
"I need more nails," Drusilla chimed in from her place on the floor next to the sofa that they'd situated Dev on. After she'd decided that she wanted to pound things with a hammer too, Willow had gone into the basement and come back up with a block of wood. Dru had been busily hammering nails into it for the past half hour.
"Spike can get you some," Willow told Dru as she moved the end table back in place and carefully climbed on it again. Spike handed her the hammer and nails with a wink, and she rolled her eyes in exasperation. "You're incorrigible, and I don't understand why you're not doing anything about it, Angel."
Shrugging, Angel finally got to work nailing his side of the material up, then handed the dangling edge of the material to Willow. "You think I'll have any better luck making him act like an adult than you do?" he asked with a grin.
Willow glared at him, then nailed her side of the material into place. Five windows and an hour later, they were finally done. Willow climbed down from her latest perch, a chair, and sat down with a thump at the dining room table.
"I'm officially done," she announced to the room at large. "The windows are blocked, the television and DVD player are set up, all the stuff has been unpacked, the groceries are put away, the beds are made and I refuse to do anything else tonight."
"Hungry?" Angel asked helpfully and she nodded, her eyes wide and hopeful. "If you got eggs, I'll whip you up an omelet," he offered.
Willow moaned and rubbed her stomach. "Yep, got eggs," she confirmed.
Angel moved into the kitchen, which was on the other side of a half-wall from the dining room. He got out the eggs and then began opening the cabinets, frowning as he did so.
"There's no more room," Drusilla said with disappointment. Angel craned his neck and saw her lift the block of wood for everyone's inspection. Sure enough, every available inch had been filled by nails. "I want to stake the wood some more."
"Well, even if you had more room, we're out of nails," Willow drawled at Drusilla, who was sitting cross-legged on the dining room table. "Tomorrow I'll get you more nails and a bigger piece of wood."
"And pick up some bleedin' ashtrays while you're at it," Spike piped in, flicking ash into an empty soda can. "Don't know how long I can keep aiming properly." He tilted his head. "You *did* buy a vacuum didn't you? Maybe a broom?"
"Uh, Willow?" Angel said hesitantly. "You also might want to get some pots and pans."
Angel watched as Willow stood up and looked around at them all. He couldn't read the look on her face, and decided his best bet was to look as innocent as possible. Spike apparently had the same thought, though it was Angel's opinion that he didn't pull it off nearly as well.
"You know," Willow said at length, her voice bland. "There's a lot of things I didn't sign up for that I've put up with. Playing housewife to the bunch of you is not going to be one of those things." She shook her head. "Wal-Mart is open twenty-four/seven and they'll welcome your business. For now, I'm watching television."
With that, she turned on her heel and left the room. Angel met Spike's eyes and they frowned. "Wal-Mart? Us?" Angel said dubiously.
Spike shook his head. "You, mate," he corrected, curling his lip. "I've already done my time there during the first round of shopping."
"Fine, I'll go," Angel said, resigned, glancing down at his watch. "Make a list of everything we need. It's only one. I should be able to get there and back well before dawn."
Spike snorted. "So you think. I'm telling you, time doesn't flow right in that hellhole, and don't get me started on the people."
"Just make the list. I'll go see if there's anything else Willow wants."
In the living room, Willow was curled up on an armchair, her lids drifting shut as she watched a movie. Angel flipped on a small light next to the sofa, mentally adding light bulbs to the list when it didn't turn on.
"Most of them are dead," Willow said sleepily. "I think we need about ten of them altogether."
"I'm going to head out now," Angel told her. "Anything else you can think of?"
"I didn't really mean that," she said with a sigh. "I'll go out tomorrow for all that stuff."
Angel shook his head. "We're perfectly capable of pitching in. Just tell me what else we need. Oh, and maybe hand over the cash card," he added with a smile.
Willow chuckled and sat up, reaching into her back pocket. "Thanks," she said sincerely. She held out the ATM card. "The pin number is one-two-three- four."
"Very secure," Angel remarked drolly.
"Yeah, well, it's easy to remember," she said, blushing slightly. "We could use an extension cord. Oh, and a couple of really long phone cords. Batteries for the remotes. And if you could get a hair-dryer, I'll be your friend forever," she added with a wide smile.
"Got it," Angel laughed. "Why don't you get some sleep?"
"I will," she said, yawning. "I just want to enjoy the being in one place a bit more, you know?"
Yeah, he did know.
"Okay, here's your list," Spike said, sauntering into the room with Drusilla. "We need some snacks, too, but you can get those at the hellhole."
Angel took the list and then grabbed the van keys from the coffee table. "All right, I'll be back soon."
"I want to go," Drusilla said, sidling up to him and linking her arm through his.
"Dru, I don't think--" Angel began, but Willow cut him off.
"That's a great idea. You'll love Wal-Mart, Dru."
Angel stared at her incredulously while Drusilla hurried off to find her shoes. "Willow, you know--"
"I agree," Spike chirped, crossing to the television and changing the channel, much to Willow's disgust. "Dru's been getting antsy."
"I really--"
"It'll be fun, Daddy," Drusilla cooed, returning to his side and rubbing her head against his shoulder. "We can pick out lovely things and scare all the sweet smelling people."
"Won't find many of those in that pit," Spike snorted. "They reek worse than the van does."
"Dru, you should stay here," Angel tried again.
Her hand tightened on his arm and she glared up at him, her eyes flashing daggers. "I'm going," she hissed. "Always stuck inside, like a mouse in a maze. I'm not a rodent!"
"Of course you're not, Dru," Willow said sympathetically, but she was fighting back a smile. "Look at that sweet face of hers, Angel. How can you say no to that?"
Drusilla took the hint and pouted prettily, a charming smile pulling at her lips. Angel rolled his eyes. "Fine," he bit out. "But you'd better listen to me, Dru. I mean it. I won't put up with any scenes, got it?"
She nodded emphatically and danced to the front door. Angel got directions from Willow and then he and Dru headed out.
***
"So," Spike said after Angel and Dru had left. "I know why I wanted Angel to take Dru, but why did you?"
Willow glanced at him and shrugged. "He made me deal with you in Wal-Mart, and turnabout is fair play. What's your reason?"
"I'm incorrigible," Spike replied with a wink. "At least, that's what some cheeky red head tells me."
"She's right," Willow agreed. "And would you please pick a station and leave it on. My head is starting to hurt."
Spike considered increasing his channel-flipping, but a good look at Willow had him deciding against it. She had woken up at dawn like clockwork, still used to their previous schedule, and had been running non-stop ever since. Add to that the lack of dinner, and she wasn't in the best of shape.
A few more channel changes and he settled on HBO, where the Matrix was playing. Unsurprisingly, Willow sat up and came to attention. "Great movie," she commented approvingly. "Oh, and it's the beginning."
Movies generally required popcorn, in Spike's opinion, and he also figured Willow could do with getting something in her stomach. If he was right, she hadn't eaten anything since before she'd returned to the motel that afternoon after signing the lease.
"Is there popcorn?" he asked her.
Willow's eyes lit up. "In the cabinet to the left of the sink."
Spike stood up and grinned down at her. "Sit tight, then."
In the kitchen he found the box of popcorn with ease, and tossed a package in the microwave that had come with the house. Four minutes later, he returned to the living room with the steaming bag, and several sodas.
Willow slid off the chair and sat on the floor, reaching out eagerly to take one of the sodas. Spike noticed that she winced and rolled her shoulders as she did so.
"Sore?"
"A little," she admitted with a grimace. "Someone had me holding my arms up in the air for hours today."
He rolled his eyes at her attempt at a guilt-trip and checked on Dev, who was still on the sofa. He thought about bringing her upstairs and setting up the monitor, but he really didn't want her set up in a room all by herself. Seemed like a way to forget her again.
Her condition had continued to improve exponentially since Willow erected the shield around her. There was still a damn long way to go, but it was nice to see the smaller injuries, like the bruising on her face, disappear entirely. Made her seem more like his Dev and less like a pathetic creature. She was resting sedately, he saw, her renewed healing and Willow's salve keeping the pain at bay.
Spike sat on the chair that Willow had abandoned and reached over her head to grab a handful of popcorn from the bag she was holding. "Stop hogging it," he groused.
She snickered and moved the bag so that it was next to her hip, wincing again at the motion. Spike frowned and kept one eye on her as he watched the movie. Ten minutes and a dozen shifts in position from Willow later, Spike finally snorted in exasperation.
"That's it," he complained. "I can't pay attention to the movie with you fidgeting like that."
"Tough," Willow replied wryly.
"Scoot back," Spike instructed her. She turned her head and looked at him warily. Spike rolled his eyes. "For crying out loud, I'm not going to beat you. Just scoot back."
Still eyeing him suspiciously, Willow shifted back a couple of inches. Spike spread his legs and leaned down to take hold of her waist. He lifted her slightly and pulled her back once she was settled between his calves.
"Stubborn," he snorted, placing his hands on her shoulders and kneading them.
"Ow, that hurts!" she hissed, trying to pull away.
"Stop jerking," Spike demanded. "You're tighter than--well, something really tight. It's gonna hurt until I get the muscles loosened up."
She continued to flinch for a few more minutes, then the muscles released and her exclamations of pain changed to moans.
"Oooh, God, that feels good," she sighed, her head lolling forward.
"Told you," Spike said simply, smiling as leaned back against his legs.
He shifted his hands and worked on her neck a bit.
"Ooooooh, don't stop," she moaned.
Spike's hands froze. On someone else, that exclamation would have been an invitation for more, one that he'd gladly accepted on more than one occasion. But on Willow it was.disconcerting. She was *Willow*.
He frowned down at her, wondering if she realized what she sounded like. Probably not, he admitted. As comfortable as she'd gotten with him over the past week, he was damned sure that she'd still blush like a virgin and scurry away if she knew that she sounded practically orgasmic.
Willow pushed her head back, nudging his hands, and he took the hint. Innocence wasn't something he generally tolerated with anything less than blatant disgust. It fit Willow, though. He honestly couldn't imagine her any other way except artless and easily embarrassed. In fact, he realized with surprise, the idea of not being that way didn't really sit well with him.
When her muscles were as relaxed as they were going to get, Spike pulled his hands back. Willow made a small sound of disappointment and nudged him again.
"You're fine now," he chided.
"No I'm not," she denied cutely, turning her head and raising her brows hopefully. "I'm already tensing up again." She wiggled her shoulders. "See for yourself."
Lips twitching, Spike put a hand on her chin and turned her head forward again. "Yes, all tense again," he drawled indulgently, though her muscles were still looser than pull taffy. "Now sit still and watch the movie, eh?"
"Okay," she sighed happily.
Gradually, Spike slowed his motions until his hands came to a complete rest on her shoulders ten minutes later. He waited, but there was no complaint from Willow, who was leaning sedately against his legs. Spike peered around her shoulder to look at her face. She was sleeping.
Shaking his head at himself, he settled her more comfortably against him and leaned back in the chair. He lit a cigarette and watching the movie.
It was a half an hour later, at almost two-thirty in the morning, when Spike's cell phone rang. Willow came awake suddenly, jumping to her feet and staring around with wide, confused eyes. Cursing, Spike got up and grabbed the phone from the top of the television.
"What?" he snapped, watching as Willow's eyes cleared and she sat on the chair.
"I need to talk to Willow," Angel said.
"Willow?" Spike repeated. "Well, you're in luck since you just woke her up and all."
Shaking his head, Spike tossed the phone to Willow. She sighed and put it to her ear. "What is it? Uh huh. Sixty watts should be fine. Anything else? Okay." She hung up the phone and set in on her lap. "Apparently, Angel's never had to buy light bulbs before," she told Spike, her voice still husky from sleep.
"Color me surprised," Spike snickered. "Why don't you head to bed?"
Even with the muted lighting, he saw her cheeks color. "I'm sorry for falling asleep on you. Again. I really won't make a habit of that."
Spike shrugged. "You're bloody exhausted, Willow," he said bluntly, then smirked. "I'm not reading anything into it, but if I should, just let me know."
Her blush heightened and she covered her face with her hands. "Incorrigible jerk," she muttered. "I swear--"
The phone rang again, and he had the sudden realization that it wasn't going to be the last time. There were probably more than a few things on that list that Angel had never had to buy before.
"I shouldn't have let him go without me," Willow said, apparently having the same thought. She was staring at the phone from between her fingers. "Do you think he'll be mad if I don't answer?"
"Furious," Spike responded. "I suggest you keep him on the phone until he gets the rest of what we need."
Sighing, Willow answered the phone.
***
It was almost four before Willow finally went to the room she'd claimed as her own. She changed into her pajamas and then made her way down the hall to the bathroom to wash up. She'd stayed on the phone with Angel for almost an hour, then waited for him and Dru to come back to make sure he'd gotten everything right.
The purchases had been fine, thanks to Willow walking him through them. Angel, on the other hand, had looked stressed beyond belief. No doubt wandering through the bright aisles of the store trying to decide if Willow needed a straight or curly phone wire while dealing with Dru had worn him down.
She wasn't feeling particular sympathetic about that at the moment. She hadn't slept in almost twenty-four hours, the nap in the living room aside, and the popcorn hadn't been nearly substantial enough to appease her empty stomach. Maybe in the morning she'd be able to muster some appropriate sympathetic noises for him, but not right then.
At the moment, she was more concerned with the comfy bed that had her name on it. Willow finished brushing her teeth and left the bathroom, almost bumping into Spike, who had Dev in his arms, in the hallway.
"Which room is she in?" Spike asked.
In answer, Willow led him down the hallway to the master bedroom. She'd prepared the bed earlier that night. Flipping on the overhead light, Willow stepped out of the way and let Spike bring Dev into the room.
"Why don't you put her on her back?" Willow suggested. "It's healed enough and it might be nice for her to be in a different position."
Spike shrugged and gently placed Dev on the bed, brushing her hair out of her face and staring down at her battered body. Her breasts still looked awful, and the gaping hole in her abdomen was still prominent, as it was healing from the bottom up. So, still the hole but no longer were organs visible. Even so, the hole was terrible.
"I've seen worse," he rasped out, eyes pinned to Dev. "Fuck, I've *done* worse."
Strangely, she wasn't horrified by that revelation. Maybe she was getting used to being around vampires, with their way of thinking and their lack of guilt. Or maybe it was the look on Spike's face. The grief and pain; the horror and fury.
"They weren't Dev," Willow said softly. "They weren't one of yours."
He grunted. "At least you can see her face now. Isn't she beautiful?"
"Yes, she is," she agreed. "Are you staying with her tonight?"
"Yeah."
"Do you need anything?" she asked.
Spike looked up, his eyes clearing when he looked at her. A small smile was on his lips as he shook his head. "Get yourself to bed. Treat yourself to a sleep-in."
"Yes, sir," Willow replied smartly. "You too."
She shut the door behind her, and made her way back to her own room. It was rather bare, all things considered, but it was still heavenly. Really, it was. The small dresser meant that she wasn't living out of her suitcase anymore, and the bed. Oh, the tiny single bed. Hers for however long she chose to sleep. And no vampires in the room with her. Heaven.
She turned off the light and carefully walked to the bed, burrowing under the covers and snuggling into her pillow. Mere moments later, she was asleep.
***
The adrenaline-like rush of approaching dusk woke Spike. He bolted upright and scanned the room. Empty, except for Dev. He relaxed and adjusted the light sheet that he'd placed over her still form. The realization that he wasn't in the back of the van, not on the road, brought mixed reactions.
On the one hand, he didn't miss being smashed in a vehicle with one human and three other vampires. Nor did he miss sharing a small, cramped room with them that allowed him not even a moment to himself. He was also damn relieved that Dev was on the mend.
But on the other hand, being stationary would most likely give him more time to contemplate his own recently dark thoughts. That wasn't very appealing in the least, especially now that he didn't have Angel and Drusilla to drown in.
Thinking more on the situation, he didn't think the staying in one place was going to be easy on anybody, actually. Even with the database to delve into, Willow was going to have too much time on her hands to think about home and friends. As for Angel, well, nothing would prevent him from the brooding. Though, the cheerleader seemed to have cut down on that a bit. As for Dru.there was such a thing as too much consistency, even for her. She was going to become restless and tempestuous at best.
Angel came into the room then, the copper bowl in one hand and a mug of blood in another. Without a word, Spike changed and opened a vein as soon as Angel reached the bed. He watched impassively as the blood fell from his wrist and joined Angel's and Dru's. The wound had healed by the time the bowl was filled, and Spike placed an arm under Dev's shoulders and eased her into a sitting position. Angel brought the bowl to her lips and tipped it, letting the blood dribble into her mouth.
A knot loosened in Spike's stomach when her swallowing instincts kicked in right away, instead of after a long, drawn out delay. Definitely getting better.
When she had consumed the contents of the bowl, Spike lowered her gently to the bed again, and accepted the mug that Angel offered him.
"I'll take this shift," Angel told him.
Spike swallowed half the contents of the mug and looked at Angel. "When should I send Dru up?"
Angel unbuckled his belt and removed it before answering. "Eight hour shifts should work," he mused, tossing the bit of leather onto the dresser in the corner.
Spike smirked at the motion. Even Angelus had hated his waist being constricted while he slept. How many times had he watched the bastard unbutton his britches irritably before settling down for the night? Okay, not that many, since Darla had generally been with Angelus and he wasn't usually worrying about constriction because she tore the pants from him in their mating frenzy. But, still, it was a little quirk of this vampire in front of him, regardless of the state of his soul.
Spike finished his blood and planted his feet on the floor to stand.
"Make sure Willow gets some food in her today," Angel instructed him.
Looking at the darker vampire, Spike raised a brow. "I do *not* cook," he grumbled. "Not even for one of us."
Exasperated, Angel rolled his eyes as he slipped into bed with Dev. "I didn't say you should. Just make sure she eats; she looked a little shaky last night."
Spike grunted and padded across the room on bare feet, scratching his chest while he yawned. Angel's voice stopped him just as he reached the door. "I know confinement doesn't sit well with you," he said blandly, "but don't make Willow suffer the brunt of it."
Turned his head, Spike grinned at Angel, which cause him to shut his eyes in resignation. "Don't worry, mate. I'll use you for target practice, all right?"
Dark eyes opened, that typically understated humor shining through. "As long as you know I'll respond in kind."
Spike laughed and opened the door. "Look forward to it," he replied on his way out.
He went directly to the living room and found Willow there, sitting cross- legged on the floor, the bottom half of her body under the coffee table. She had her head propped on one hand as she contemplated the contents of a mug in front of her. There was a plate of toast sitting at her elbow.
She raised her head when she heard him come in, and smiled wanly, reaching out for the mug--coffee, by the smell of it. She inhaled deeply before taking a careful sip. She must not have been up for long, as her hair was still mussed and out of place from sleep, not yet brushed into a curtain of silk that inevitably got pushed behind her ears in irritation.
And she was still dressed in her pajamas, those damn gray pants and tank top. From what Spike had seen over the past several weeks, she had three tops with her, same style in different colors. He liked the pink the least. It was a silly color for a grown woman to be wearing.
Drusilla blew into the room then, her voice high pitched as she chatted about the dreams she'd had. As she rambled on, Spike saw Willow curl in on herself and devote all of her attention to the coffee in her hand. Someone wasn't a morning person.
"Where are my tiny metal stakes, precious?"
Willow cringed and looked up at Dru, who was in the middle of the living room with an expectant light in her eyes. "Uh, I don't know where Angel put them," Willow said huskily.
Spike doubted that, but let her get away with it. Damned if he wanted to listen to Dru hammer nails into wood just half an hour after he'd woken up. Seeing the guilty look that spread over Willow's features, he guessed he was going to have to hear it at some point. Damn her soft heart.
Dru pouted and Willow opened her mouth, but Spike beat her to it. "I'll find them for you in a bit, luv," he told Dru, smiling at her.
She clapped her hands and Willow flinched again. He frowned. He didn't remember her being this sensitive after she'd woken up. Then again, he realized, she'd also been behind the wheel of the van no more than ten minutes after she'd woken up. If this was how she always was right after she'd woken up, that driving must have been Hell for her.
"Don't you want something more substantial than that?" Spike asked Willow as she took a small bite of toast.
Willow made a face and then frowned. "Yeah, but I'm not really up to cooking anything."
Dru slunk out of the room, mumbling about her Angel and Devil. Willow stared after her blearily, but turned back to Spike when he spoke. "Been a while since I had some wings," he commented, looking meaningfully at the phone. "Or pizza, come to think of it."
Her eyes grew round and her mouth dropped open a little bit. Spike grinned. A few minutes later she'd used her laptop to track down a local pizza joint and had called in an order.
They were both restless as they waited for the food to arrive, and both started when the doorbell rang. Willow quickly roused herself to answer it, the look she tossed Spike relaying that she didn't trust him to behave.
Spike smirked and pulled her away from the door when she would have opened it. "Stay back for a second," he instructed her.
A frown came and went quickly, and then she ducked out of sight, pressing cash into his palm as she did so. Spike snickered when he saw the greasy faced git on the other side of the door, and exchanged the money for the food.
Willow had retreated to the kitchen and set up plates on the dining room table. Spike blinked when he realized that she'd put some blood in the microwave for him. Hm.
Dinner was uncomfortable and edgy. Spike found that he and Willow were both tense and frowning.
"It feels weird," Willow finally said. "To not, uh, be on the road."
"Bit of an understatement," Spike commented, tossing aside a wing and scowling. "I don't like this sitting on our hands business. Give me something to kill, right?"
Willow rolled her eyes. "I was planning on relaxing today." Her lips twisted and she took a sip of soda. "I think I'll tackle the database instead. Give myself something to focus on."
"Bully for you," Spike groused. "What am I supposed to do?"
"Solitaire?" she suggested with a grin, and Spike flipped her off.
***
The following day, Willow finally got the database to make sense. With uninterrupted time to work on it, she'd been able to figure out the relationships and get something useful. Her excitement was short lived.
There were no dates for any of the entries listed. A quick glance through the events gave her no idea which had occurred recently, and which had occurred twenty years before. And the references were just not ringing any bells with her.
She chewed her lip and stared at the screen, glancing up when the sounds of Dru's laughter drifted down from the second floor. The vampire occupants of the house were in Dev's room, killing time and trying to keep each other from getting too bored.
Turning her attention back to the problem at hand, her brows drew together. She didn't have the resources to research the sources Dev have mentioned in her entries. No question about that. So, then, how the heck was she going to figure out if the attack on Dev was related to any of the events in the Analects? Try as she might, she couldn't think of a way besides researching the listings.
That problem tumbled through her head as she went into the kitchen for some chips. She leaned against the counter and munched, then her face lit up. Of course. She didn't have the resources available, but someone else did.
"I must admit that I haven't looked into any of that," Wesley confessed ten minutes later. "My effort was originally focused on attempting to pinpoint how you were all being tracked. And then Angel assured me that Dev's records were the only reliable source."
"Well, they are," Willow conceded, switching the phone to her other ear and delving into the FTP files again. "But the Analects only point you towards the sources. So I know where to look, but I don't have any of the texts or books to look in."
"Ah, I see," Wesley murmured. "Yes, I could help with that. Could you send me the source listings, and perhaps some of the details?"
Willow grinned. "I can do a whole lot better than that, actually. I'll email you a spreadsheet of everything in the database." She frowned as she exported the query she'd run. "Do you mind? It's going to be a whole lot of work and I won't be able to give you anything more than what's in the database."
"I look forward to it, actually," Wesley said enthusiastically. "There hasn't been much going on here. And Cordelia could use some work to focus on as well."
It was a bit of a stretch for Willow to think that even the new and improved Cordelia would be happy about tons of research, but she didn't share that thought with Wesley. Once the document had been sent over to him, he confirmed that it wasn't gibberish and then promised to call her back with any information he'd found out. At the last minute, Willow told him to focus first on the Sanskrit entry she'd highlighted, and he assured her he would.
After hanging up, Willow sat at the dining room table and stared around herself, feeling a bit lost. Well, now what was she supposed to do?
Shrugging, she went upstairs and joined the others.
***
Over the next week, the house fell into a routine. A very flexible, ever- changing and nocturnal routine, but a routine nonetheless.
Willow had kept up the sleep-by-day routine, mainly because those were the hours that everyone else in the house kept. During the days, the vampires would take turns sleeping in Dev's room while the other two bunked down in the third bedroom.
During the night, there was a vampire with Dev at all times as well. The rest of the house did their own thing then, but without fail there was at least one other body on the bed with Dev, holding her hand, smoothing her hair.
More often than not, Spike was absolutely disgusted by the *domesticated* atmosphere that had been created in the house. It was sickening to him on so many levels. Even playing poker in Dev's room had a homey feeling that made him want to retch. But then there would come the nights when it was Angel or Dru's turn to sit with Dev, and Spike would find himself in the living room with Willow, and it wouldn't seem so terrible.
Because, while Willow was naïve and idealistic, she was also damn near brilliant. The combination made for some fantastic arguments. He knew that Willow would get halfway through the debate and wonder how the fuck she'd gotten pulled into it, but her natural obstinacy refused to allow her to walk away. Plus, it was Spike's opinion that she was rather unused to having someone with half a brain to hash things out with.
A surprised glint would come into her eyes when he would neatly trash whatever theory or flawless idea she flung at him. Then Spike would smirk, because he knew that she was hooked and wouldn't end it until she won. But he was the same way, and they usually parted ways with scowls and glares before each settled down to bed and decided that they'd won, instead of the other.
It was just passed dusk, a week after they arrived, and Spike had just woken up. He stretched as he walked down the stairs, dressed only in a pair of faded black jeans, and made his way into the kitchen. It was spotless as usual, just like the rest of the house. Willow and Angel tended it, not even bothering trying to convince Spike to give them a hand. He knew Willow had considered it once, when he'd been sitting on the chair in the living room munching on snacks while she'd been cleaning. He'd followed her eyes to the dents by the window and smirked, knowing he was safe.
Willow was already in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and staring blearily at the coffee pot, a mug in her hand.
"Morning'," she muttered when she noticed him, her eyes flicking back to the coffee pot immediately.
He grunted in response and took his own mug from the dish rack. He pulled open the fridge and dumped a pack of blood in the mug and then stepped around Willow to get to the microwave. His arm brushed hers and he jerked away, slamming the small door of the microwave shut with more force than was necessary.
That, he admitted darkly, had been happening more and more, and he didn't like it. Not even a little. Ever since that damned massage in the living room, he'd become aware of things like the grazing of bare flesh. It was ridiculous. He'd cleaned her shirtless form after she'd thrown up back in Los Angeles, had practically torn clothes off of her that night they'd gone to the karaoke bar, had her sleeping form pressed against him on two occasions, and hadn't had anything even close to a reaction. But rubbing her shoulders had left its mark? Didn't make sense.
The microwave beeped at the same time that Willow got tired of waiting for the coffee pot to fill. Spike punched the button that opened the microwave just as Willow deftly slipped the coffee pot from the burner and replaced it with her cup. Once it was filled, she reversed the process and sighed.
Spike's jaw clenched. No, it hadn't been the damn massage, his hands on her neck and shoulders, which had left a mark. It had been the sounds. Those small noises of satisfaction Willow had made that served to remind him that he was now cut off from his only sources of sex. Sounds similar to the soft exhalation of pleasure that she'd just emitted. Maybe he'd been a little too hasty to agree to the change of the family relationship with Dru and Angel.
Snorting, he followed Willow into the living room. She curled up on one side of the sofa, blinking widely as she took a sip of her coffee. Spike slouched in the chair and fumbled for the remote as he vamped out and took a hit from the mug. The two were still waking up several minutes later when Dru glided into the room.
Spike watched Willow tips her head back and dump the contents of her mug back in two huge swallows. Growling slightly, Spike did the same with his blood, wishing to hell that it would kick in pretty fast.
"There are songs on the wind this night," Dru announced, a boldly sexual tinge in her voice.
Spike raised his head slowly and saw her cascading limbs joining her pelvis in several twists and gyrations. He frowned and set his cup on the table next to the chair. Contrary to what an onlooker might think, this type of behavior from Dru didn't mean that she was in the mood for a shag.
"What kind of songs, princess?" Spike asked softly, holding his hand out to her. She wafted his way, her delicate but deadly fingers wrapping around his own, and her slight but strong body settling on his lap. Her head settled in the crook of his neck and he felt the gentle flutter of her eyelashes against his skin.
"Red songs, Spike," she whispered. "Lovely, they are. Glittering with pain and violence, whispering in my ear about death. It's coming."
"Tonight?" Willow asked. Spike looked at her, saw the frown on her face and the worry in her eyes.
"No, Precious," Dru said softly, curling tighter around Spike. "Soon, though. I can't decide if I like it or not."
"Well, you'll find out, won't you?" Spike soothed her. "Until then, how about we play some cards?"
They convinced Willow to join them in Dev's room, and the next few hours were spent playing various games with Angel. Several times, Willow had become lost in thought. Spike hadn't thought much of it until he noticed Dru watching Willow with a narrowed internal gaze.
Dru's earlier words still on his mind, Spike waited until Willow and Angel had wondered off before moving to Drusilla and pulling her close.
"Princess," he murmured, brushing his thumbs across her cheeks. "Tell me what's going on."
Her lovely features fell into troubled lines as she turned her gaze towards the door through which Willow had exited. "So much surrounds her, Spike. Shifting and spinning around and around. Just when I see it, it's gone and something new is there."
Spike leaned his forehead against hers. "Why are you seeing her at all?" he asked, knowing that Dru didn't see things in everyone, but still unsure even after all this time why she saw it in some but not in others.
A low dark laugh trickled from Dru's lips and danced along Spike's face. "Disorder and turmoil come for tea every day."
"Why is it changing so much?"
Dru stepped back from him and smiled mysteriously. "*She* is changing, luv." She reached out her arm, walking her fingers along his chest, each settling of her finger punctuated by her next words. "One small step at a time, barely noticeable to even herself."
Spike flinched away from her hand. "That damned song you're hearing, it's about Willow isn't it? The pain and violence and death. It's all to do with Willow."
Her eyes grew clouded and she frowned. "It will come," she said, her voice serrated. "But who will suffer it, who will drown in the blood? So much that has nothing to do with her depends on her." Drusilla moved forward, catching and holding his gaze, but putting none of her gifts into it. Spike felt his jaw clench as she floated around him. "It's intricate," she cooed. "Finely wrought, but so delicate. It waits only for her choice."
She'd come full circle so that she was standing in front of him again. He swallowed and stepped towards her, not sure what he was thinking, what he was intending to say. "She--"
A single finger on his lips quieted him, and she stared into his eyes for a long while before dragging her digit down his chin and letting her arm fall to her side. "Not time," she whispered cryptically.
And she was gone, leaving Spike to stare after her, definitely confused and possibly a slew of other things he wasn't sure about.
***
Angel kicked Spike and Willow out of the house the next night. Stormed into the living room during one of their conversations and just told them to get the hell out.
Willow stared at him in stupefied silence for a long moment, then collected herself enough to speak. "Excuse me?" she stammered.
"You heard me," Angel growled, glaring at the two of them. "You're riding my last nerve." Spike smirked and Angel narrowed his eyes. "Both of you."
"Hey!" Spike protested. "She started it."
Willow's eyes widened and she looked from Spike to Angel. "No I didn't! Spike is the one--"
"I don't give a damn who started what," Angel said loudly, and Willow lowered her brows. "But if I have to listen to the two of you argue for a minute more, I'm going to lock you both in the basement. So get out."
"We weren't arguing," Willow denied. "We were..."
"Debating," Spike filled in, nodding emphatically. "That's it. Nice and friendly. Right, Will?"
"Yeah. I don't understand why you're...giving us das boot! Doesn't seem very fair," she tacked on, folding her arms under her breasts.
Angel cut a hand through the air. "Whatever you want to call it, I've heard enough of it tonight. Walk it off."
They stomped out of the house under Angel's watchful gaze, and the door slammed shut behind them. "That was just rude," Willow sniffed as they trudged down the porch steps. "You don't see us tossing him out when he gets all depressingly broody, do you?"
Spike took up the call for bitching. "No, and he actually deserves it. Sucks the joy out of the place," he spat. "I guess we're just better than he is."
Willow thought about that and nodded. "Yeah, yeah we are."
They wandered through the neighborhood then, passing house after house. It made her smile when she realized that they'd gone about ten blocks without speaking. Who would have thought she and Spike would be able to exist in companionable silence? She stole a glance at him and frowned. Hm, apparently she was the only one who found it companionable. Spike seemed rather distracted.
"Take a picture; it'll last longer," he drawled sardonically.
She rolled her eyes and kicked at a random rock on the sidewalk. "Why are you so quiet? I'm not used to stoic Spike. Makes me nervous."
"Yeah, well, you're a Nervous Nellie at the best of times." She glared at him and kicked the rock at his foot. It missed. "Just tired of being all cooped up, is all. Tired of doing nothing. Tired of--"
"Waiting," Willow finished with a nod. He slanted a look at her and she shrugged. "I'm kind of at loose ends since I turned that information from the database over to Wesley. Not really sure what I'm supposed to do now, you know?"
"Welcome to my pain," Spike grumbled as they turned a corner. "It's bloody frustrating."
The houses in this area were more upscale, signaling that they'd passed into a more affluent neighborhood. There were fences at street level, behind which several laps of walkways lead to doors. She wondered if the area was patrolled by private security and if they'd be stopped. Naw, she wasn't a Nervous Nellie. Just...cautious.
"I usually enjoy the downtime," Willow said after a fashion. "But that's when I'm at home, with friends and school and life. What about you?"
Spike gave her a surprised look. "What *about* me?"
She waved a vague hand. "What do you do in your downtime?"
"Why?"
Frowning, she said, "Um, because I'm curious. Friends should know things like that."
A few steps later, she realized that Spike was no longer beside her. She turned. He was standing a few feet away, glowering darkly at her. Willow half stumbled back instinctively.
"We're not *friends*," Spike snapped at her. "It'd do you well to remember that."
His eyes began to shift, and she could almost see his muscles tense up. "What's going on here, Spike?" she asked hesitantly. "It was just a question. You don't have to answer it."
"Oh, but I want to," he said silkily, and Willow shivered. "In my *downtime* I pop over to the next town to hunt so that Slutty doesn't ram a soddin' soul down my throat. And I spend a good deal of time fantasizing about killing her and the rest of you without getting all souled up."
Willow felt her face become a blank mask. "You've made your point," she told him distantly. "I won't be idiotic enough to call you a friend again."
He nodded tersely. "Good. Because I'm not. This ends, and you're just another meal on wheels, got it?"
And she knew, then, what this was about. This was about his role in the hierarchy, and her lack thereof. He was bringing it home loud and clear that he would be a danger to her after this. Just as he'd always been. It was a warning to not believe anything he might say to the contrary in the future. Part of her understood this rationally, but a larger part of her just got so very angry.
Angry that he couldn't just come out and say it, but had to scare her and threaten her. Angry that he thought she didn't already know it. Angry that they just couldn't walk without some kind of drama.
"Oh, I've got it," Willow said sweetly. "This ends, and you're one mean comment away from being dust."
The thing that was funny--not ha-ha funny, but just freaky--about what happened next was that Willow later realized that she'd set it up. With her words, carefully selected to incite him further. With her knowledge of how he would then react, how he'd feel forced to remind her that he wasn't easy to dust.
And she did it because he needed a reminder, too. She wasn't the same girl he'd kidnapped and threatened years before. Or the same girl he'd cornered in her dorm room last year. Or the same hurting girl who'd botched all her spells. She wasn't even the same girl he'd driven out to Los Angeles.
So when he flew at her, faster than he thought she'd be expecting, a plank of wood from the fence beside her was suddenly in his path. She saw his eyes widen when he realized it was headed for his heart, then there was confusion when he and the plank just stopped. Mid-air. The wood just inches from his chest.
A gleam of satisfaction slid into his gaze, and it grated on Willow. "Let me clue you in on something else," she said coldly, one hand held up in front of her to control Spike and the plank. "You might want to go someplace other than Sunnydale when this is over, because getting saddled with a soul is the *last* thing you'll need to be worried about anymore."
She moved her hand to the side, and the wood moved with it. She waited until Spike had relaxed and then pushed forward suddenly. The plank pierced the right side of his chest, and he cried out in pain as she let him drop to the ground.
"You do me proud, Red," he gasped, his voice filled with equal parts pain and laughter.
And it was the laughter that made Willow narrow her eyes and clench her hand into a fist as she looked down at him. "Why don't you spend the rest of the night thinking about where you'll move," she suggested caustically, then turned and walked away. "See you at dawn."
***
All in all, the move into the house went rather smoothly. At least, in Angel's opinion. Willow had signed the lease, then got all the utilities turned on during the day. Once the sun had set, Spike had gone with her to get provisions. Unable to find curtains thick enough to keep the sun adequately out, she'd finally had to go to a fabric store and buy large swaths of a thick, dark green velvet material to hang over the windows.
Willow probably had a different opinion of the move, considering Spike's behavior during it all. True to form, he'd taken the opportunity to revert to type. She'd looked beseechingly at Angel several times, and pouted greatly when he hadn't done anything to reign Spike's complaining in. In all honesty, Angel had been having way too much fun watching her and Spike bicker to put a stop to it.
"A smidge to the left."
Willow dropped her side of a swatch of material and glared at Spike from atop an end table. "That's it," she exploded, stepping down. "I'll judge the straightness and you can hammer it in place."
Angel, still holding his side of material next to a window on the first floor, caught sight of the gleam in Spike's eyes and wondered if he should warn Willow. He decided not to. If she didn't already know, it was high time she learned.
Spike kicked the end table out of the way and took the hammer and nails that Willow shoved at him. She stepped back while Spike lifted the material and a few short directions later she gave the okay to nail it across the window. Angel took his time getting his nail set up, and watched Spike from the corner of his eye.
Sure enough, he purposely missed the nail and sent the hammer crashing into the wall, leaving a nice-sized dent.
"Oops," Spike said cheerfully. "Let me just try that again." Another hole was pummeled into the wall. "I guess carpentry's just not my thing."
Angel turned to Willow and saw that she was staring at Spike and the wall with resignation. "Never mind," she sighed, then eyed the holes again. "At least you marked where I need to nail it."
"I need more nails," Drusilla chimed in from her place on the floor next to the sofa that they'd situated Dev on. After she'd decided that she wanted to pound things with a hammer too, Willow had gone into the basement and come back up with a block of wood. Dru had been busily hammering nails into it for the past half hour.
"Spike can get you some," Willow told Dru as she moved the end table back in place and carefully climbed on it again. Spike handed her the hammer and nails with a wink, and she rolled her eyes in exasperation. "You're incorrigible, and I don't understand why you're not doing anything about it, Angel."
Shrugging, Angel finally got to work nailing his side of the material up, then handed the dangling edge of the material to Willow. "You think I'll have any better luck making him act like an adult than you do?" he asked with a grin.
Willow glared at him, then nailed her side of the material into place. Five windows and an hour later, they were finally done. Willow climbed down from her latest perch, a chair, and sat down with a thump at the dining room table.
"I'm officially done," she announced to the room at large. "The windows are blocked, the television and DVD player are set up, all the stuff has been unpacked, the groceries are put away, the beds are made and I refuse to do anything else tonight."
"Hungry?" Angel asked helpfully and she nodded, her eyes wide and hopeful. "If you got eggs, I'll whip you up an omelet," he offered.
Willow moaned and rubbed her stomach. "Yep, got eggs," she confirmed.
Angel moved into the kitchen, which was on the other side of a half-wall from the dining room. He got out the eggs and then began opening the cabinets, frowning as he did so.
"There's no more room," Drusilla said with disappointment. Angel craned his neck and saw her lift the block of wood for everyone's inspection. Sure enough, every available inch had been filled by nails. "I want to stake the wood some more."
"Well, even if you had more room, we're out of nails," Willow drawled at Drusilla, who was sitting cross-legged on the dining room table. "Tomorrow I'll get you more nails and a bigger piece of wood."
"And pick up some bleedin' ashtrays while you're at it," Spike piped in, flicking ash into an empty soda can. "Don't know how long I can keep aiming properly." He tilted his head. "You *did* buy a vacuum didn't you? Maybe a broom?"
"Uh, Willow?" Angel said hesitantly. "You also might want to get some pots and pans."
Angel watched as Willow stood up and looked around at them all. He couldn't read the look on her face, and decided his best bet was to look as innocent as possible. Spike apparently had the same thought, though it was Angel's opinion that he didn't pull it off nearly as well.
"You know," Willow said at length, her voice bland. "There's a lot of things I didn't sign up for that I've put up with. Playing housewife to the bunch of you is not going to be one of those things." She shook her head. "Wal-Mart is open twenty-four/seven and they'll welcome your business. For now, I'm watching television."
With that, she turned on her heel and left the room. Angel met Spike's eyes and they frowned. "Wal-Mart? Us?" Angel said dubiously.
Spike shook his head. "You, mate," he corrected, curling his lip. "I've already done my time there during the first round of shopping."
"Fine, I'll go," Angel said, resigned, glancing down at his watch. "Make a list of everything we need. It's only one. I should be able to get there and back well before dawn."
Spike snorted. "So you think. I'm telling you, time doesn't flow right in that hellhole, and don't get me started on the people."
"Just make the list. I'll go see if there's anything else Willow wants."
In the living room, Willow was curled up on an armchair, her lids drifting shut as she watched a movie. Angel flipped on a small light next to the sofa, mentally adding light bulbs to the list when it didn't turn on.
"Most of them are dead," Willow said sleepily. "I think we need about ten of them altogether."
"I'm going to head out now," Angel told her. "Anything else you can think of?"
"I didn't really mean that," she said with a sigh. "I'll go out tomorrow for all that stuff."
Angel shook his head. "We're perfectly capable of pitching in. Just tell me what else we need. Oh, and maybe hand over the cash card," he added with a smile.
Willow chuckled and sat up, reaching into her back pocket. "Thanks," she said sincerely. She held out the ATM card. "The pin number is one-two-three- four."
"Very secure," Angel remarked drolly.
"Yeah, well, it's easy to remember," she said, blushing slightly. "We could use an extension cord. Oh, and a couple of really long phone cords. Batteries for the remotes. And if you could get a hair-dryer, I'll be your friend forever," she added with a wide smile.
"Got it," Angel laughed. "Why don't you get some sleep?"
"I will," she said, yawning. "I just want to enjoy the being in one place a bit more, you know?"
Yeah, he did know.
"Okay, here's your list," Spike said, sauntering into the room with Drusilla. "We need some snacks, too, but you can get those at the hellhole."
Angel took the list and then grabbed the van keys from the coffee table. "All right, I'll be back soon."
"I want to go," Drusilla said, sidling up to him and linking her arm through his.
"Dru, I don't think--" Angel began, but Willow cut him off.
"That's a great idea. You'll love Wal-Mart, Dru."
Angel stared at her incredulously while Drusilla hurried off to find her shoes. "Willow, you know--"
"I agree," Spike chirped, crossing to the television and changing the channel, much to Willow's disgust. "Dru's been getting antsy."
"I really--"
"It'll be fun, Daddy," Drusilla cooed, returning to his side and rubbing her head against his shoulder. "We can pick out lovely things and scare all the sweet smelling people."
"Won't find many of those in that pit," Spike snorted. "They reek worse than the van does."
"Dru, you should stay here," Angel tried again.
Her hand tightened on his arm and she glared up at him, her eyes flashing daggers. "I'm going," she hissed. "Always stuck inside, like a mouse in a maze. I'm not a rodent!"
"Of course you're not, Dru," Willow said sympathetically, but she was fighting back a smile. "Look at that sweet face of hers, Angel. How can you say no to that?"
Drusilla took the hint and pouted prettily, a charming smile pulling at her lips. Angel rolled his eyes. "Fine," he bit out. "But you'd better listen to me, Dru. I mean it. I won't put up with any scenes, got it?"
She nodded emphatically and danced to the front door. Angel got directions from Willow and then he and Dru headed out.
***
"So," Spike said after Angel and Dru had left. "I know why I wanted Angel to take Dru, but why did you?"
Willow glanced at him and shrugged. "He made me deal with you in Wal-Mart, and turnabout is fair play. What's your reason?"
"I'm incorrigible," Spike replied with a wink. "At least, that's what some cheeky red head tells me."
"She's right," Willow agreed. "And would you please pick a station and leave it on. My head is starting to hurt."
Spike considered increasing his channel-flipping, but a good look at Willow had him deciding against it. She had woken up at dawn like clockwork, still used to their previous schedule, and had been running non-stop ever since. Add to that the lack of dinner, and she wasn't in the best of shape.
A few more channel changes and he settled on HBO, where the Matrix was playing. Unsurprisingly, Willow sat up and came to attention. "Great movie," she commented approvingly. "Oh, and it's the beginning."
Movies generally required popcorn, in Spike's opinion, and he also figured Willow could do with getting something in her stomach. If he was right, she hadn't eaten anything since before she'd returned to the motel that afternoon after signing the lease.
"Is there popcorn?" he asked her.
Willow's eyes lit up. "In the cabinet to the left of the sink."
Spike stood up and grinned down at her. "Sit tight, then."
In the kitchen he found the box of popcorn with ease, and tossed a package in the microwave that had come with the house. Four minutes later, he returned to the living room with the steaming bag, and several sodas.
Willow slid off the chair and sat on the floor, reaching out eagerly to take one of the sodas. Spike noticed that she winced and rolled her shoulders as she did so.
"Sore?"
"A little," she admitted with a grimace. "Someone had me holding my arms up in the air for hours today."
He rolled his eyes at her attempt at a guilt-trip and checked on Dev, who was still on the sofa. He thought about bringing her upstairs and setting up the monitor, but he really didn't want her set up in a room all by herself. Seemed like a way to forget her again.
Her condition had continued to improve exponentially since Willow erected the shield around her. There was still a damn long way to go, but it was nice to see the smaller injuries, like the bruising on her face, disappear entirely. Made her seem more like his Dev and less like a pathetic creature. She was resting sedately, he saw, her renewed healing and Willow's salve keeping the pain at bay.
Spike sat on the chair that Willow had abandoned and reached over her head to grab a handful of popcorn from the bag she was holding. "Stop hogging it," he groused.
She snickered and moved the bag so that it was next to her hip, wincing again at the motion. Spike frowned and kept one eye on her as he watched the movie. Ten minutes and a dozen shifts in position from Willow later, Spike finally snorted in exasperation.
"That's it," he complained. "I can't pay attention to the movie with you fidgeting like that."
"Tough," Willow replied wryly.
"Scoot back," Spike instructed her. She turned her head and looked at him warily. Spike rolled his eyes. "For crying out loud, I'm not going to beat you. Just scoot back."
Still eyeing him suspiciously, Willow shifted back a couple of inches. Spike spread his legs and leaned down to take hold of her waist. He lifted her slightly and pulled her back once she was settled between his calves.
"Stubborn," he snorted, placing his hands on her shoulders and kneading them.
"Ow, that hurts!" she hissed, trying to pull away.
"Stop jerking," Spike demanded. "You're tighter than--well, something really tight. It's gonna hurt until I get the muscles loosened up."
She continued to flinch for a few more minutes, then the muscles released and her exclamations of pain changed to moans.
"Oooh, God, that feels good," she sighed, her head lolling forward.
"Told you," Spike said simply, smiling as leaned back against his legs.
He shifted his hands and worked on her neck a bit.
"Ooooooh, don't stop," she moaned.
Spike's hands froze. On someone else, that exclamation would have been an invitation for more, one that he'd gladly accepted on more than one occasion. But on Willow it was.disconcerting. She was *Willow*.
He frowned down at her, wondering if she realized what she sounded like. Probably not, he admitted. As comfortable as she'd gotten with him over the past week, he was damned sure that she'd still blush like a virgin and scurry away if she knew that she sounded practically orgasmic.
Willow pushed her head back, nudging his hands, and he took the hint. Innocence wasn't something he generally tolerated with anything less than blatant disgust. It fit Willow, though. He honestly couldn't imagine her any other way except artless and easily embarrassed. In fact, he realized with surprise, the idea of not being that way didn't really sit well with him.
When her muscles were as relaxed as they were going to get, Spike pulled his hands back. Willow made a small sound of disappointment and nudged him again.
"You're fine now," he chided.
"No I'm not," she denied cutely, turning her head and raising her brows hopefully. "I'm already tensing up again." She wiggled her shoulders. "See for yourself."
Lips twitching, Spike put a hand on her chin and turned her head forward again. "Yes, all tense again," he drawled indulgently, though her muscles were still looser than pull taffy. "Now sit still and watch the movie, eh?"
"Okay," she sighed happily.
Gradually, Spike slowed his motions until his hands came to a complete rest on her shoulders ten minutes later. He waited, but there was no complaint from Willow, who was leaning sedately against his legs. Spike peered around her shoulder to look at her face. She was sleeping.
Shaking his head at himself, he settled her more comfortably against him and leaned back in the chair. He lit a cigarette and watching the movie.
It was a half an hour later, at almost two-thirty in the morning, when Spike's cell phone rang. Willow came awake suddenly, jumping to her feet and staring around with wide, confused eyes. Cursing, Spike got up and grabbed the phone from the top of the television.
"What?" he snapped, watching as Willow's eyes cleared and she sat on the chair.
"I need to talk to Willow," Angel said.
"Willow?" Spike repeated. "Well, you're in luck since you just woke her up and all."
Shaking his head, Spike tossed the phone to Willow. She sighed and put it to her ear. "What is it? Uh huh. Sixty watts should be fine. Anything else? Okay." She hung up the phone and set in on her lap. "Apparently, Angel's never had to buy light bulbs before," she told Spike, her voice still husky from sleep.
"Color me surprised," Spike snickered. "Why don't you head to bed?"
Even with the muted lighting, he saw her cheeks color. "I'm sorry for falling asleep on you. Again. I really won't make a habit of that."
Spike shrugged. "You're bloody exhausted, Willow," he said bluntly, then smirked. "I'm not reading anything into it, but if I should, just let me know."
Her blush heightened and she covered her face with her hands. "Incorrigible jerk," she muttered. "I swear--"
The phone rang again, and he had the sudden realization that it wasn't going to be the last time. There were probably more than a few things on that list that Angel had never had to buy before.
"I shouldn't have let him go without me," Willow said, apparently having the same thought. She was staring at the phone from between her fingers. "Do you think he'll be mad if I don't answer?"
"Furious," Spike responded. "I suggest you keep him on the phone until he gets the rest of what we need."
Sighing, Willow answered the phone.
***
It was almost four before Willow finally went to the room she'd claimed as her own. She changed into her pajamas and then made her way down the hall to the bathroom to wash up. She'd stayed on the phone with Angel for almost an hour, then waited for him and Dru to come back to make sure he'd gotten everything right.
The purchases had been fine, thanks to Willow walking him through them. Angel, on the other hand, had looked stressed beyond belief. No doubt wandering through the bright aisles of the store trying to decide if Willow needed a straight or curly phone wire while dealing with Dru had worn him down.
She wasn't feeling particular sympathetic about that at the moment. She hadn't slept in almost twenty-four hours, the nap in the living room aside, and the popcorn hadn't been nearly substantial enough to appease her empty stomach. Maybe in the morning she'd be able to muster some appropriate sympathetic noises for him, but not right then.
At the moment, she was more concerned with the comfy bed that had her name on it. Willow finished brushing her teeth and left the bathroom, almost bumping into Spike, who had Dev in his arms, in the hallway.
"Which room is she in?" Spike asked.
In answer, Willow led him down the hallway to the master bedroom. She'd prepared the bed earlier that night. Flipping on the overhead light, Willow stepped out of the way and let Spike bring Dev into the room.
"Why don't you put her on her back?" Willow suggested. "It's healed enough and it might be nice for her to be in a different position."
Spike shrugged and gently placed Dev on the bed, brushing her hair out of her face and staring down at her battered body. Her breasts still looked awful, and the gaping hole in her abdomen was still prominent, as it was healing from the bottom up. So, still the hole but no longer were organs visible. Even so, the hole was terrible.
"I've seen worse," he rasped out, eyes pinned to Dev. "Fuck, I've *done* worse."
Strangely, she wasn't horrified by that revelation. Maybe she was getting used to being around vampires, with their way of thinking and their lack of guilt. Or maybe it was the look on Spike's face. The grief and pain; the horror and fury.
"They weren't Dev," Willow said softly. "They weren't one of yours."
He grunted. "At least you can see her face now. Isn't she beautiful?"
"Yes, she is," she agreed. "Are you staying with her tonight?"
"Yeah."
"Do you need anything?" she asked.
Spike looked up, his eyes clearing when he looked at her. A small smile was on his lips as he shook his head. "Get yourself to bed. Treat yourself to a sleep-in."
"Yes, sir," Willow replied smartly. "You too."
She shut the door behind her, and made her way back to her own room. It was rather bare, all things considered, but it was still heavenly. Really, it was. The small dresser meant that she wasn't living out of her suitcase anymore, and the bed. Oh, the tiny single bed. Hers for however long she chose to sleep. And no vampires in the room with her. Heaven.
She turned off the light and carefully walked to the bed, burrowing under the covers and snuggling into her pillow. Mere moments later, she was asleep.
***
The adrenaline-like rush of approaching dusk woke Spike. He bolted upright and scanned the room. Empty, except for Dev. He relaxed and adjusted the light sheet that he'd placed over her still form. The realization that he wasn't in the back of the van, not on the road, brought mixed reactions.
On the one hand, he didn't miss being smashed in a vehicle with one human and three other vampires. Nor did he miss sharing a small, cramped room with them that allowed him not even a moment to himself. He was also damn relieved that Dev was on the mend.
But on the other hand, being stationary would most likely give him more time to contemplate his own recently dark thoughts. That wasn't very appealing in the least, especially now that he didn't have Angel and Drusilla to drown in.
Thinking more on the situation, he didn't think the staying in one place was going to be easy on anybody, actually. Even with the database to delve into, Willow was going to have too much time on her hands to think about home and friends. As for Angel, well, nothing would prevent him from the brooding. Though, the cheerleader seemed to have cut down on that a bit. As for Dru.there was such a thing as too much consistency, even for her. She was going to become restless and tempestuous at best.
Angel came into the room then, the copper bowl in one hand and a mug of blood in another. Without a word, Spike changed and opened a vein as soon as Angel reached the bed. He watched impassively as the blood fell from his wrist and joined Angel's and Dru's. The wound had healed by the time the bowl was filled, and Spike placed an arm under Dev's shoulders and eased her into a sitting position. Angel brought the bowl to her lips and tipped it, letting the blood dribble into her mouth.
A knot loosened in Spike's stomach when her swallowing instincts kicked in right away, instead of after a long, drawn out delay. Definitely getting better.
When she had consumed the contents of the bowl, Spike lowered her gently to the bed again, and accepted the mug that Angel offered him.
"I'll take this shift," Angel told him.
Spike swallowed half the contents of the mug and looked at Angel. "When should I send Dru up?"
Angel unbuckled his belt and removed it before answering. "Eight hour shifts should work," he mused, tossing the bit of leather onto the dresser in the corner.
Spike smirked at the motion. Even Angelus had hated his waist being constricted while he slept. How many times had he watched the bastard unbutton his britches irritably before settling down for the night? Okay, not that many, since Darla had generally been with Angelus and he wasn't usually worrying about constriction because she tore the pants from him in their mating frenzy. But, still, it was a little quirk of this vampire in front of him, regardless of the state of his soul.
Spike finished his blood and planted his feet on the floor to stand.
"Make sure Willow gets some food in her today," Angel instructed him.
Looking at the darker vampire, Spike raised a brow. "I do *not* cook," he grumbled. "Not even for one of us."
Exasperated, Angel rolled his eyes as he slipped into bed with Dev. "I didn't say you should. Just make sure she eats; she looked a little shaky last night."
Spike grunted and padded across the room on bare feet, scratching his chest while he yawned. Angel's voice stopped him just as he reached the door. "I know confinement doesn't sit well with you," he said blandly, "but don't make Willow suffer the brunt of it."
Turned his head, Spike grinned at Angel, which cause him to shut his eyes in resignation. "Don't worry, mate. I'll use you for target practice, all right?"
Dark eyes opened, that typically understated humor shining through. "As long as you know I'll respond in kind."
Spike laughed and opened the door. "Look forward to it," he replied on his way out.
He went directly to the living room and found Willow there, sitting cross- legged on the floor, the bottom half of her body under the coffee table. She had her head propped on one hand as she contemplated the contents of a mug in front of her. There was a plate of toast sitting at her elbow.
She raised her head when she heard him come in, and smiled wanly, reaching out for the mug--coffee, by the smell of it. She inhaled deeply before taking a careful sip. She must not have been up for long, as her hair was still mussed and out of place from sleep, not yet brushed into a curtain of silk that inevitably got pushed behind her ears in irritation.
And she was still dressed in her pajamas, those damn gray pants and tank top. From what Spike had seen over the past several weeks, she had three tops with her, same style in different colors. He liked the pink the least. It was a silly color for a grown woman to be wearing.
Drusilla blew into the room then, her voice high pitched as she chatted about the dreams she'd had. As she rambled on, Spike saw Willow curl in on herself and devote all of her attention to the coffee in her hand. Someone wasn't a morning person.
"Where are my tiny metal stakes, precious?"
Willow cringed and looked up at Dru, who was in the middle of the living room with an expectant light in her eyes. "Uh, I don't know where Angel put them," Willow said huskily.
Spike doubted that, but let her get away with it. Damned if he wanted to listen to Dru hammer nails into wood just half an hour after he'd woken up. Seeing the guilty look that spread over Willow's features, he guessed he was going to have to hear it at some point. Damn her soft heart.
Dru pouted and Willow opened her mouth, but Spike beat her to it. "I'll find them for you in a bit, luv," he told Dru, smiling at her.
She clapped her hands and Willow flinched again. He frowned. He didn't remember her being this sensitive after she'd woken up. Then again, he realized, she'd also been behind the wheel of the van no more than ten minutes after she'd woken up. If this was how she always was right after she'd woken up, that driving must have been Hell for her.
"Don't you want something more substantial than that?" Spike asked Willow as she took a small bite of toast.
Willow made a face and then frowned. "Yeah, but I'm not really up to cooking anything."
Dru slunk out of the room, mumbling about her Angel and Devil. Willow stared after her blearily, but turned back to Spike when he spoke. "Been a while since I had some wings," he commented, looking meaningfully at the phone. "Or pizza, come to think of it."
Her eyes grew round and her mouth dropped open a little bit. Spike grinned. A few minutes later she'd used her laptop to track down a local pizza joint and had called in an order.
They were both restless as they waited for the food to arrive, and both started when the doorbell rang. Willow quickly roused herself to answer it, the look she tossed Spike relaying that she didn't trust him to behave.
Spike smirked and pulled her away from the door when she would have opened it. "Stay back for a second," he instructed her.
A frown came and went quickly, and then she ducked out of sight, pressing cash into his palm as she did so. Spike snickered when he saw the greasy faced git on the other side of the door, and exchanged the money for the food.
Willow had retreated to the kitchen and set up plates on the dining room table. Spike blinked when he realized that she'd put some blood in the microwave for him. Hm.
Dinner was uncomfortable and edgy. Spike found that he and Willow were both tense and frowning.
"It feels weird," Willow finally said. "To not, uh, be on the road."
"Bit of an understatement," Spike commented, tossing aside a wing and scowling. "I don't like this sitting on our hands business. Give me something to kill, right?"
Willow rolled her eyes. "I was planning on relaxing today." Her lips twisted and she took a sip of soda. "I think I'll tackle the database instead. Give myself something to focus on."
"Bully for you," Spike groused. "What am I supposed to do?"
"Solitaire?" she suggested with a grin, and Spike flipped her off.
***
The following day, Willow finally got the database to make sense. With uninterrupted time to work on it, she'd been able to figure out the relationships and get something useful. Her excitement was short lived.
There were no dates for any of the entries listed. A quick glance through the events gave her no idea which had occurred recently, and which had occurred twenty years before. And the references were just not ringing any bells with her.
She chewed her lip and stared at the screen, glancing up when the sounds of Dru's laughter drifted down from the second floor. The vampire occupants of the house were in Dev's room, killing time and trying to keep each other from getting too bored.
Turning her attention back to the problem at hand, her brows drew together. She didn't have the resources to research the sources Dev have mentioned in her entries. No question about that. So, then, how the heck was she going to figure out if the attack on Dev was related to any of the events in the Analects? Try as she might, she couldn't think of a way besides researching the listings.
That problem tumbled through her head as she went into the kitchen for some chips. She leaned against the counter and munched, then her face lit up. Of course. She didn't have the resources available, but someone else did.
"I must admit that I haven't looked into any of that," Wesley confessed ten minutes later. "My effort was originally focused on attempting to pinpoint how you were all being tracked. And then Angel assured me that Dev's records were the only reliable source."
"Well, they are," Willow conceded, switching the phone to her other ear and delving into the FTP files again. "But the Analects only point you towards the sources. So I know where to look, but I don't have any of the texts or books to look in."
"Ah, I see," Wesley murmured. "Yes, I could help with that. Could you send me the source listings, and perhaps some of the details?"
Willow grinned. "I can do a whole lot better than that, actually. I'll email you a spreadsheet of everything in the database." She frowned as she exported the query she'd run. "Do you mind? It's going to be a whole lot of work and I won't be able to give you anything more than what's in the database."
"I look forward to it, actually," Wesley said enthusiastically. "There hasn't been much going on here. And Cordelia could use some work to focus on as well."
It was a bit of a stretch for Willow to think that even the new and improved Cordelia would be happy about tons of research, but she didn't share that thought with Wesley. Once the document had been sent over to him, he confirmed that it wasn't gibberish and then promised to call her back with any information he'd found out. At the last minute, Willow told him to focus first on the Sanskrit entry she'd highlighted, and he assured her he would.
After hanging up, Willow sat at the dining room table and stared around herself, feeling a bit lost. Well, now what was she supposed to do?
Shrugging, she went upstairs and joined the others.
***
Over the next week, the house fell into a routine. A very flexible, ever- changing and nocturnal routine, but a routine nonetheless.
Willow had kept up the sleep-by-day routine, mainly because those were the hours that everyone else in the house kept. During the days, the vampires would take turns sleeping in Dev's room while the other two bunked down in the third bedroom.
During the night, there was a vampire with Dev at all times as well. The rest of the house did their own thing then, but without fail there was at least one other body on the bed with Dev, holding her hand, smoothing her hair.
More often than not, Spike was absolutely disgusted by the *domesticated* atmosphere that had been created in the house. It was sickening to him on so many levels. Even playing poker in Dev's room had a homey feeling that made him want to retch. But then there would come the nights when it was Angel or Dru's turn to sit with Dev, and Spike would find himself in the living room with Willow, and it wouldn't seem so terrible.
Because, while Willow was naïve and idealistic, she was also damn near brilliant. The combination made for some fantastic arguments. He knew that Willow would get halfway through the debate and wonder how the fuck she'd gotten pulled into it, but her natural obstinacy refused to allow her to walk away. Plus, it was Spike's opinion that she was rather unused to having someone with half a brain to hash things out with.
A surprised glint would come into her eyes when he would neatly trash whatever theory or flawless idea she flung at him. Then Spike would smirk, because he knew that she was hooked and wouldn't end it until she won. But he was the same way, and they usually parted ways with scowls and glares before each settled down to bed and decided that they'd won, instead of the other.
It was just passed dusk, a week after they arrived, and Spike had just woken up. He stretched as he walked down the stairs, dressed only in a pair of faded black jeans, and made his way into the kitchen. It was spotless as usual, just like the rest of the house. Willow and Angel tended it, not even bothering trying to convince Spike to give them a hand. He knew Willow had considered it once, when he'd been sitting on the chair in the living room munching on snacks while she'd been cleaning. He'd followed her eyes to the dents by the window and smirked, knowing he was safe.
Willow was already in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and staring blearily at the coffee pot, a mug in her hand.
"Morning'," she muttered when she noticed him, her eyes flicking back to the coffee pot immediately.
He grunted in response and took his own mug from the dish rack. He pulled open the fridge and dumped a pack of blood in the mug and then stepped around Willow to get to the microwave. His arm brushed hers and he jerked away, slamming the small door of the microwave shut with more force than was necessary.
That, he admitted darkly, had been happening more and more, and he didn't like it. Not even a little. Ever since that damned massage in the living room, he'd become aware of things like the grazing of bare flesh. It was ridiculous. He'd cleaned her shirtless form after she'd thrown up back in Los Angeles, had practically torn clothes off of her that night they'd gone to the karaoke bar, had her sleeping form pressed against him on two occasions, and hadn't had anything even close to a reaction. But rubbing her shoulders had left its mark? Didn't make sense.
The microwave beeped at the same time that Willow got tired of waiting for the coffee pot to fill. Spike punched the button that opened the microwave just as Willow deftly slipped the coffee pot from the burner and replaced it with her cup. Once it was filled, she reversed the process and sighed.
Spike's jaw clenched. No, it hadn't been the damn massage, his hands on her neck and shoulders, which had left a mark. It had been the sounds. Those small noises of satisfaction Willow had made that served to remind him that he was now cut off from his only sources of sex. Sounds similar to the soft exhalation of pleasure that she'd just emitted. Maybe he'd been a little too hasty to agree to the change of the family relationship with Dru and Angel.
Snorting, he followed Willow into the living room. She curled up on one side of the sofa, blinking widely as she took a sip of her coffee. Spike slouched in the chair and fumbled for the remote as he vamped out and took a hit from the mug. The two were still waking up several minutes later when Dru glided into the room.
Spike watched Willow tips her head back and dump the contents of her mug back in two huge swallows. Growling slightly, Spike did the same with his blood, wishing to hell that it would kick in pretty fast.
"There are songs on the wind this night," Dru announced, a boldly sexual tinge in her voice.
Spike raised his head slowly and saw her cascading limbs joining her pelvis in several twists and gyrations. He frowned and set his cup on the table next to the chair. Contrary to what an onlooker might think, this type of behavior from Dru didn't mean that she was in the mood for a shag.
"What kind of songs, princess?" Spike asked softly, holding his hand out to her. She wafted his way, her delicate but deadly fingers wrapping around his own, and her slight but strong body settling on his lap. Her head settled in the crook of his neck and he felt the gentle flutter of her eyelashes against his skin.
"Red songs, Spike," she whispered. "Lovely, they are. Glittering with pain and violence, whispering in my ear about death. It's coming."
"Tonight?" Willow asked. Spike looked at her, saw the frown on her face and the worry in her eyes.
"No, Precious," Dru said softly, curling tighter around Spike. "Soon, though. I can't decide if I like it or not."
"Well, you'll find out, won't you?" Spike soothed her. "Until then, how about we play some cards?"
They convinced Willow to join them in Dev's room, and the next few hours were spent playing various games with Angel. Several times, Willow had become lost in thought. Spike hadn't thought much of it until he noticed Dru watching Willow with a narrowed internal gaze.
Dru's earlier words still on his mind, Spike waited until Willow and Angel had wondered off before moving to Drusilla and pulling her close.
"Princess," he murmured, brushing his thumbs across her cheeks. "Tell me what's going on."
Her lovely features fell into troubled lines as she turned her gaze towards the door through which Willow had exited. "So much surrounds her, Spike. Shifting and spinning around and around. Just when I see it, it's gone and something new is there."
Spike leaned his forehead against hers. "Why are you seeing her at all?" he asked, knowing that Dru didn't see things in everyone, but still unsure even after all this time why she saw it in some but not in others.
A low dark laugh trickled from Dru's lips and danced along Spike's face. "Disorder and turmoil come for tea every day."
"Why is it changing so much?"
Dru stepped back from him and smiled mysteriously. "*She* is changing, luv." She reached out her arm, walking her fingers along his chest, each settling of her finger punctuated by her next words. "One small step at a time, barely noticeable to even herself."
Spike flinched away from her hand. "That damned song you're hearing, it's about Willow isn't it? The pain and violence and death. It's all to do with Willow."
Her eyes grew clouded and she frowned. "It will come," she said, her voice serrated. "But who will suffer it, who will drown in the blood? So much that has nothing to do with her depends on her." Drusilla moved forward, catching and holding his gaze, but putting none of her gifts into it. Spike felt his jaw clench as she floated around him. "It's intricate," she cooed. "Finely wrought, but so delicate. It waits only for her choice."
She'd come full circle so that she was standing in front of him again. He swallowed and stepped towards her, not sure what he was thinking, what he was intending to say. "She--"
A single finger on his lips quieted him, and she stared into his eyes for a long while before dragging her digit down his chin and letting her arm fall to her side. "Not time," she whispered cryptically.
And she was gone, leaving Spike to stare after her, definitely confused and possibly a slew of other things he wasn't sure about.
***
Angel kicked Spike and Willow out of the house the next night. Stormed into the living room during one of their conversations and just told them to get the hell out.
Willow stared at him in stupefied silence for a long moment, then collected herself enough to speak. "Excuse me?" she stammered.
"You heard me," Angel growled, glaring at the two of them. "You're riding my last nerve." Spike smirked and Angel narrowed his eyes. "Both of you."
"Hey!" Spike protested. "She started it."
Willow's eyes widened and she looked from Spike to Angel. "No I didn't! Spike is the one--"
"I don't give a damn who started what," Angel said loudly, and Willow lowered her brows. "But if I have to listen to the two of you argue for a minute more, I'm going to lock you both in the basement. So get out."
"We weren't arguing," Willow denied. "We were..."
"Debating," Spike filled in, nodding emphatically. "That's it. Nice and friendly. Right, Will?"
"Yeah. I don't understand why you're...giving us das boot! Doesn't seem very fair," she tacked on, folding her arms under her breasts.
Angel cut a hand through the air. "Whatever you want to call it, I've heard enough of it tonight. Walk it off."
They stomped out of the house under Angel's watchful gaze, and the door slammed shut behind them. "That was just rude," Willow sniffed as they trudged down the porch steps. "You don't see us tossing him out when he gets all depressingly broody, do you?"
Spike took up the call for bitching. "No, and he actually deserves it. Sucks the joy out of the place," he spat. "I guess we're just better than he is."
Willow thought about that and nodded. "Yeah, yeah we are."
They wandered through the neighborhood then, passing house after house. It made her smile when she realized that they'd gone about ten blocks without speaking. Who would have thought she and Spike would be able to exist in companionable silence? She stole a glance at him and frowned. Hm, apparently she was the only one who found it companionable. Spike seemed rather distracted.
"Take a picture; it'll last longer," he drawled sardonically.
She rolled her eyes and kicked at a random rock on the sidewalk. "Why are you so quiet? I'm not used to stoic Spike. Makes me nervous."
"Yeah, well, you're a Nervous Nellie at the best of times." She glared at him and kicked the rock at his foot. It missed. "Just tired of being all cooped up, is all. Tired of doing nothing. Tired of--"
"Waiting," Willow finished with a nod. He slanted a look at her and she shrugged. "I'm kind of at loose ends since I turned that information from the database over to Wesley. Not really sure what I'm supposed to do now, you know?"
"Welcome to my pain," Spike grumbled as they turned a corner. "It's bloody frustrating."
The houses in this area were more upscale, signaling that they'd passed into a more affluent neighborhood. There were fences at street level, behind which several laps of walkways lead to doors. She wondered if the area was patrolled by private security and if they'd be stopped. Naw, she wasn't a Nervous Nellie. Just...cautious.
"I usually enjoy the downtime," Willow said after a fashion. "But that's when I'm at home, with friends and school and life. What about you?"
Spike gave her a surprised look. "What *about* me?"
She waved a vague hand. "What do you do in your downtime?"
"Why?"
Frowning, she said, "Um, because I'm curious. Friends should know things like that."
A few steps later, she realized that Spike was no longer beside her. She turned. He was standing a few feet away, glowering darkly at her. Willow half stumbled back instinctively.
"We're not *friends*," Spike snapped at her. "It'd do you well to remember that."
His eyes began to shift, and she could almost see his muscles tense up. "What's going on here, Spike?" she asked hesitantly. "It was just a question. You don't have to answer it."
"Oh, but I want to," he said silkily, and Willow shivered. "In my *downtime* I pop over to the next town to hunt so that Slutty doesn't ram a soddin' soul down my throat. And I spend a good deal of time fantasizing about killing her and the rest of you without getting all souled up."
Willow felt her face become a blank mask. "You've made your point," she told him distantly. "I won't be idiotic enough to call you a friend again."
He nodded tersely. "Good. Because I'm not. This ends, and you're just another meal on wheels, got it?"
And she knew, then, what this was about. This was about his role in the hierarchy, and her lack thereof. He was bringing it home loud and clear that he would be a danger to her after this. Just as he'd always been. It was a warning to not believe anything he might say to the contrary in the future. Part of her understood this rationally, but a larger part of her just got so very angry.
Angry that he couldn't just come out and say it, but had to scare her and threaten her. Angry that he thought she didn't already know it. Angry that they just couldn't walk without some kind of drama.
"Oh, I've got it," Willow said sweetly. "This ends, and you're one mean comment away from being dust."
The thing that was funny--not ha-ha funny, but just freaky--about what happened next was that Willow later realized that she'd set it up. With her words, carefully selected to incite him further. With her knowledge of how he would then react, how he'd feel forced to remind her that he wasn't easy to dust.
And she did it because he needed a reminder, too. She wasn't the same girl he'd kidnapped and threatened years before. Or the same girl he'd cornered in her dorm room last year. Or the same hurting girl who'd botched all her spells. She wasn't even the same girl he'd driven out to Los Angeles.
So when he flew at her, faster than he thought she'd be expecting, a plank of wood from the fence beside her was suddenly in his path. She saw his eyes widen when he realized it was headed for his heart, then there was confusion when he and the plank just stopped. Mid-air. The wood just inches from his chest.
A gleam of satisfaction slid into his gaze, and it grated on Willow. "Let me clue you in on something else," she said coldly, one hand held up in front of her to control Spike and the plank. "You might want to go someplace other than Sunnydale when this is over, because getting saddled with a soul is the *last* thing you'll need to be worried about anymore."
She moved her hand to the side, and the wood moved with it. She waited until Spike had relaxed and then pushed forward suddenly. The plank pierced the right side of his chest, and he cried out in pain as she let him drop to the ground.
"You do me proud, Red," he gasped, his voice filled with equal parts pain and laughter.
And it was the laughter that made Willow narrow her eyes and clench her hand into a fist as she looked down at him. "Why don't you spend the rest of the night thinking about where you'll move," she suggested caustically, then turned and walked away. "See you at dawn."
***