Chapter Six

          He always got to her. Always. Even when he was days away he could always worm his way under her skin. The harder she tried to push him back the quicker he latched on. They had noticed it, of course, but at the beginning they had chalked it up to "after kidnapping" jitters and she let them think that. How could she tell them that he had sunk his fangs into her heart and refused to let go? How could she tell them that she had let him, encouraged him, and made him swear to never let go? They'd never understand, not now. It's been too long to pull the "jitters card" again. She was forced to conceal her desire and her secrets beneath layers of carefully built lies and perfectly drawn smiles.

          But the act was getting heavier and heavier and Willow felt her foundation beginning to crack.

          Dropping down beside Spike on the couch Willow took his hand between her own and sighed. "I'm sorry."

          Lacing his fingers between hers Spike starred at Willow's hand for a moment before responding, "What happened?"

          Shrugging Willow said, "You already know pretty much everything."

          "Pretty much isn't good enough."

          "I know," Willow nodded tracing the lines along Spike's palm. "It's just, it's hard, Spike. It's so hard."

          Tilting Willow's chin Spike forced her eyes to meet his. "I understand, love. Believe me, I understand and I can help you through this if you let me."

          Smiling slightly Willow kissed Spike's palm and let it drop back to her lap, still wrapped between her own small hands. "I've told you about it," Willow began. "About the kidnapping, but it happened before you came back. You never saw me, how I was after he let me go. I was a complete wreck and half-mad, raving like a loon and muttering to myself."

          "He did the same thing to Dru," Spike commented, "before he turned her."

          "No," Willow looked up suddenly, shaking her head. "Angelus didn't drive me crazy. Being away from him drove me crazy. Angelus withdrawals, the others called it and they were right. For weeks I craved him. I dreamt of him – of his touch, his kiss, his embrace. I wanted only him and I died everyday without him."

          Spike had gone still and his grip tightened around Willow's. He didn't want to hear this, Willow knew. He didn't want to know just how desperately Willow had wanted Angelus and how permanently he had wound himself around her being. No, Spike didn't want to know but he needed to know.

          Hesitantly Willow met Spike's eyes but quickly lowered her gaze. "He held me for three months and for thee months he tore me down and rebuilt me. The things he did, they were…I can't even talk about them. He started slowly with his torture then added more bit by bit, day by day until I was begging for it. Twisted and black my soul had forgotten pleasure and replaced it with pain. I needed the pain, craved the pain, begged for the pain. Angelus knew just how to tease me and please me until I lay writhing and crying out for him."

          Willow paused, pressing a hand to her mouth and closing her eyes to shut out the tears. She yearned for that pain, yes, but remembering those months locked in a room and left alone for hour's even days on end, was almost unbearable for the redhead. "Then one day he unlocked the door and told me to leave. No explanation or reasoning, just a kiss. The next thing I remember is waking up at Giles' three days later. Laurel was sitting by my side and that was the first time I met her. They demanded to know everything, every detail, but their pressure only made me worse and I retreated further and further away until I eerily resembled Drusilla. Only then did they back off and give me room to breathe. I told them a few weeks later, some of it at least. Some of it, though, I keep only for myself."

          Wrapping her in his arms Spike held Willow against his chest and she clung to him with all her strength. Spike was her anchor. He was what kept Willow from falling to pieces and crumbling at his feet. She needed strength and support and Spike gave it to her in droves. It had come so subtly, Willow's dependence on Spike, that she had never even taken note of it until it had all but consumed her. The love Willow held for Spike was so fierce it scared her sometimes. Angelus had been the first to claim the young redhead but he was no longer the only.

Willow could never live without Spike, just as she could never live without Angelus, and she could never choose between the two – she never wanted to.

"Shh," Spike crooned softly, running his fingertips along Willow's spine.

Willow placed a kiss at the base of Spike's neck and tugged at the hem of his shirt, urging it off and tossing it onto the floor. Lowering her lips to his chest Willow left a trail of butterfly kisses across his smooth skin, parting only to allow Spike to remove her blouse. His lips met hers in a forceful kiss, his fingertips bruising the delicate flesh around her hips. Willow saw Spike's eyes flash amber and watched his demon surface. Standing, Spike carried his lover to their bedroom and kicked the door closed.

Willow dreamt of Angelus that night, but not only Angelus – Angelus and Spike.

Prowling the streets, together, as they had done before Angelus was cursed with a soul. Spike had often told Willow of the twos exploits – Spike had been Angelus' favorite childe and Spike had so admired his sire. They were known as the Scourge of Europe and rightly so. Together with Darla and Drusilla they wrecked holy havoc for decades and reveled in the pain and death they left in their wake. Willow had always loved to hear of the "early years" and often prodded Spike to speak of them – which wasn't exactly difficult since he was still a soulless vampire and loved to brag.

Angelus, too, talked often of his past. While in her captivity Willow had listened to him speak of the times before Spike and Drusilla when he was truly evil – young and impatient, acting wholly on his fancy and without thought. Vicious he was, and murderous, but foolish and rash. It would be many, many years before Angelus came to learn the arts of strategy and patience and truly earned the fear he instilled in others.

Willow dreamt of Angelus and Spike as they were a hundred years before and woke in a cold sweat, trembling with tears staining her cheeks – her dream forgotten.