Chapter 2:
Sick as a Dog
Spike wrapped his strong arms protectively around Willow's shaking frame. Lightly he kissed the back of her bright auburn hair. "I'm so sorry Luv, if I'd have thought you'd be at all sick, I never would have brought you here," he soothed as he ran his hands across her damp forehead.
Silently Willow nodded, not trusting her voice as the evil waves emanating from the Hellmouth washed against her heightened senses. Slowly she lifted her shaky hand and rested it against Spike's biceps.
With a low soothing sound he reached down to draw yet another cover over Willow. Her shields had held strong for the first few days, but after a week the essence of evil had reduced her to a shaking mess. He'd given her his blood on the fifth day--with much improvement, but the effects had worn off within a day and it was too soon for another exchange.
A soft moan escaped her lips as she cautiously rolled over and buried her face against his chest. Her head was killing her and her insides felt like knots whenever she breathed. It was like drawing poison into her lungs, the evil polluting her body. All Willow wanted to do was crawl home to Windemere. She knew Spike had wanted her to enjoy Rome but as the magic had settled into her system, extremes of any kind caused her discomfort.
After being touched by the Goddess she'd felt invincible, but that feeling had quickly dissipated after a trip into town to collect her weekly dollhouse piece. It had been All Saints Day, and the local church was hosting an all night vigil. As the car had passed the church she'd felt the stirrings of discomfort but it wasn't until later when she and Spike had passed it on the way to the tavern that she'd truly felt the full impact of that holy place.
She should have figured it out, she was getting complacent letting Spike take care of her all the time. He'd had to carry her for three blocks when she'd collapsed that night, but they hadn't realized it had been the church. She wanted to kick herself for not figuring it out in the first place.
The unease had grown from the moment the plane had begun to circle the airport. But the second her feet had touched the ground, she'd understood. Now she was miserable and unable to seek relief from the welcoming evil of Spike's blood to balance her system. It would be days before she could seek that relief, and the knowledge that the hours would be filled with so much pain, brought tears to her eyes.
Cool fingers caressed the back of her neck, and she didn't know if the feeling was comforting or painful. But as always, Spike's voice soothed her frazzled nerves, calming her spirit, "Luv, I know you don't want too but it's been two days, you have to eat something."
Squeezing her eyes tightly she shook her head but Spike rapped his fingers against her spine in a silent reprimand. "You're eating and that's it. Now, what sounds good?"
Hesitantly she raised her head to glare at him before conceding his point. "Ice cream, cake, sweets. No meat," she groaned, "Oh please no meat." His hand went back to petting her hair as she lowered her head back against the pillow.
She could hear the smile she couldn't see. "Gelato. It's an Italian ice cream--well not really, since there's no ice, but you get the point. It's packed with good old-fashioned butter, fat and other cancer causing ingredients, " he paused then, "I'll get you two.
"I think I saw a sweet shop when we checked in." He kissed her damp forehead, "Will you be alright without me for a few minutes? I can't imagine it'll take more than ten--"
Her hand came up to cover his lips. "If you're going to go, then go." She knew she was being short but her head was pounding, her stomach was turning, and she suddenly felt all around worse.
Ever the gentleman poet, Spike kissed her fingertips and then carefully rose from the bed, sliding a pillow into his place so Willow had something to lean against. Reaching over her, he picked up the key and clicked off the sidelight, dropping the room into blue twilight. He didn't want to leave her, didn't want to take a step out of that room knowing she was sick because of him. But she needed to eat and his inability to take her with him was the only thing prompting him to leave her at all. You'd think the Presidential Suite would have all night room service, but it was sanctioned under the same 1am rule as the rest of the hotel, and he knew it would take longer to argue than to just go and get it himself. Slowly, he skimmed his hand over her hair one last time before walking across the room to slide into his coat. He was surprised when he heard her sitting up, his eyes flashing over to catch her pale complexion.
Her voice was tired as she apologized, "I'm sorry I snapped at you. Be careful, you know how those ice cream men can be." He saw her smile in the darkness. "I love you, Will."
It was a new thing for her, calling him Will. She said it was more intimate than Spike, and maybe a part of him agreed. He liked the way his old name rolled off her tongue, like liquid honey. On the other hand, it was a different thing all together. In the old days, no one but his drinking buddies would have called him Will instead of William--not that he had any of those--so to hear her call him that in her soft, silky voice, it definitely put a new spin on that age old name.
"I'll be careful Luvie. You get some rest, I shouldn't be more than twenty minutes or so." He watched as she slid back under the covers, listened to the uneasy draw of breath she took, and tried not to shudder. He had to leave now or he never would.
Duster draping his long body, he swirled towards the door, the fabric catching in the breeze.
Darres watched as the blond vampire left the building, his famous black leather duster exiting the door moments behind him. Spike was a legend in and of himself; there wasn't a vampire alive that didn't know the history around that leather jacket. Masters told Childer, and Childer told minions, and so it went that the jacket of the Slayer became a symbol of vampire victory.
The blond had no idea of course. He'd been on the Hellmouth so long, shut away so long with that crazy bitch Drusilla, he had no idea how truly famous he'd become. On the other hand, that was probably a good thing, considering how Spike dealt with fame.
With eyes that had witnessed the rise and fall of empires, Darres watched Spike round the corner before giving the signal. Instantly, six Childer moved out of the shadows and walked knowingly into the Grand Hotel Parco dei Principi.
Hitching his duster up around his face to conceal his identity, Darres mounted the marble steps and walked through the door Marcus held for him. The rich warmth of the reception room filled him with a sense of Victorian opulence. Chandeliers adorned the ceiling, casting a warming glow on the rich burgundy wood of the counters and furniture.
With another nod, three Childer moved towards the elevators, while Richard cast a quiet spell that forced onlookers to glance away.
When the doors opened, the elevator operator was quickly silenced, and his group moved stealthy into the lift and quickly began their assent. To his right, Marcus produced a keycard and swiped it, allowing them access to the presidential suite, and their prize.
The deep Italian filled the quiet elevator, but Darres shook his head and answered in English. "We are not to frighten her. We grab her and exit the way we came. Richard will conceal our exit. Rafe will have the car outside when we arrive." He turned to look sharply at his men, Childer he'd given the gift to centuries ago so that they now worked together as a flawless team, no matter what the situation. "Thomas, do you have the envelop?"
"Yes." Said the smaller, stockier man towards the back of the elevator, using English as he knew Darres would want them too while handling the woman.
"Good."
Then there was nothing more to say.
When the elevator opened, it was directly into the reception room. Decorated in gold, crystal, and satin, it was a room that spoke of Spike's vanity, and gave a hint of what the woman inside would undoubtedly be like as well. As a unit they stood just inside the elevator, listening for any movement. What they heard was the beat of a heart.
Marcus's harsh whisper cut through the silence. "He left his woman unguarded and asleep?"
From behind, a few of the Childer scoffed, but Darres silenced them with a glare. "Listen." The room once again became silent as they followed his orders. In the wake of the stillness, he answered the question. "Her heart labors. She is ill. He's left her under duress no doubt. We will complete our mission and add as little more as possible." He turned and fixed his second with ice blue eyes. "The plan has changed, I will take the woman. Marcus, coordinate the efforts of the others and the note; we'll meet back up at the car." At the nod of wheat blond hair, Darres walked purposefully into the room and towards the beating heart.
She fought her way to wakefulness. Something around her wasn't right. Opening her eyes, Willow looked towards the door, her enhanced senses making the room like twilight instead of pitch black. She heard what sounded like fabric against fabric, and focused her hearing on that sound as she struggled to sit up. Her magic was so far beyond her now it was painful; a reminder that she was vulnerable in this life even with Spike's protection.
Silently, she lifted her hand to wipe away the sweat that stung her eyes as it trickled from her hairline. She was so ill, nothing looked right, things seemed to move in the shadows, while the room itself rocked slowly back and forth as she tried to focus on the door. One shaking hand stole to rest across her stomach as a wave of nausea attacked.
Leaning forward she allowed a gentle rocking to ease her fears and discomfort. She didn't hear or see the movement as much as she sensed it, and her body went still and silent as her eyes looked up and directly into the icy blue of a vampire that was not Spike.
For a long moment they simply stared at each other, and she got the impression he was startled that she had found him in the inky blackness. Her first instinct was to scream, her second was to run, but without the strength, both were futile. Instead, she opened her mouth and spoke calmly, with an air of authority that came from the being she would become.
"Who sent you?"
To her surprise, the vampire before her bowed deeply at the waist, a sign of great respect that was reflected on his face once he rose. When he spoke it was with an Old World accent that could have filled a million fantasies. "The White Queen requests your presence until such time as your mate returns to claim you." He arched an eyebrow then, "I would suggest that you do not fight. In your condition it could only do you more damage."
She was surprised by the concern, but refused to show it. Instead, Willow turned her body to face him, refusing when the vampire stepped forward to offer assistance. "Who are you?" She asked hoarsely, the small amount of movement taxing.
His voice was a deep baritone, but it was magical to hear. "Who I am is not important."
Willow shook her head. "It's important to me. I like to know who's kidnapping me." She looked up at him and again locked their eyes, refusing to release him until he answered.
"My name is Darres, head of security for the White Queen, Elizabeth."
Willow smiled then, a true smile. "Well, I suppose if I couldn't make it she would send an escort to pick me up." She reveled in the neutral expression that belayed his shock. "If you wait, Spike will be back shortly." Closing her eyes, she pressed them tightly together as another wave of pain radiated through her body.
Cool hands brushed against her cheeks, cooling her feverish skin. "You are ill, Lady Willow. Allow me to escort you to White Stone, we have healers that can attend to you there."
With limited options, Willow offered a nod before closing her eyes against the nausea as he swept her up into his arms. "As if I have a choice," she mumbled, too tired to ring her arms around his neck.
The smile was in his voice. "You do not, Lady Willow, but the concern is genuine. You will not be harmed, and I will have our healers look you over immediately."
Again she nodded. "Spike?"
Darres gave a soft laugh. "Rest assured Lady, your mate will know exactly where to find you."
"What's wrong with her?"
He'd known the moment she'd been brought into the house; everyone had known. The pain-filled screams had alerted the entire household, and Angelus had run out of the library just in time to see Darres spirit her quickly into a Quiet Room; but the screaming did not stop.
Darres had come to fetch him ten minutes later, and now as he looked down at the pale, sweat covered face of the woman that bore Spike's mark, he knew something was terribly, horribly wrong with her.
"To be honest, Master Angelus, we do not know. She resists our aid even in her weakened condition." There were five mages in the room, three of them legendary. To hear Barak admit he had no idea--the situation was bad.
In her sleep Willow moaned, her body weakly thrashing against the white satin sheets that made her look all the more pale. Tears mingled with sweat, and he found himself brushing them from her cheeks, his hand shaking.
Turning, he looked to Darres. "I have a hard time believing Spike would have left her in this condition." He made it a statement, filled with equal parts doubt and concern.
The much older vampire shook his head. "She was not at all like this until we neared White Stone. About a mile out her breathing and heart rate became erratic. When we entered through the shield, that is when she began to scream." Darres turned to once again look at Willow, a concerned expression on his face. "Once she began, she would not stop. I fear she is in a great deal of pain, and yet I cannot understand why."
From the doorway, came their answer as Elizabeth swept in, a long, multi-colored silk dress hanging about her frame. "Her body seeks to establish a balance that it cannot reach while above the widest Hellmouth in the world." She glided around Angelus and rested her elegant hand across Willow's forehead, her fingertips moving in a soothing motion. "Not at all the way I wanted to meet you, Little Queen." She sighed, an airy sound of summer wind through spring leaves. "She needs blood," she said, her gaze sweeping around to lock with his. "She needs the blood of her line, and Spike's blood is too diluted to provide for her; it must be yours."
Startled, Angelus looked down at the girl who now seemed a little more at ease as Elizabeth caressed her cheek lightly. "Spike has claimed her, marked her. To even attempt to give her my blood--"
"Would most likely make him hate you for the rest of your unlife." She stated, her nature blasé at best. "However, there are only two options. One is that she leave this place; and in her current condition, she wouldn't survive the journey. The second is to balance her system, fill her body with as much evil as it can withstand; otherwise the imbalance will kill her. As you are Spike's Grandsire, you're blood contains the same demon. If any of the others were to offer their blood in your place, the two demons would killer her in moments as they fought for dominance." She leaned forward, her eyes holding his captive with her will alone. "No, Angelus, it is your blood or her death, there is no other options."
He was quiet for a moment before he shook his head. "No. I won't betray William this way. There has to be another way; something we've over looked."
Elizabeth pulled away from him, walked behind him and turned to stare up at the molded ceiling. "I wondered when the great Angelus would become the Irish Coward I always knew him to be." Rage. The killing kind. One that had cost many a village in his youth. It consumed him like fire to a reaped field and before he knew it he was upon her. His hands like claws, his fangs bared, he went right for her throat, his claws digging into her beautiful dress and reducing it to shreds.
Darres never moved. He didn't have too. With one bejeweled hand, Elizabeth caught Angelus about the neck and lifted him off the ground. Her expression smiling up at him, mocking him. But he was beyond caring, beyond anything except the desperation of his situation, and the constant pain of his eternal existence. Hissing and spitting, his hands reached for her; reached to rip that mocking smile right off her beautiful face.
She turned to Darres. "They're so temperamental when they're this young. I'd forgotten how lucky I was to have such wise and tested help." She smiled sweetly, "I thank you for your centuries of service Darres." The dark haired man with ice blue eyes bowed at the waist but did not comment.
"Now for you, Angelus." She said, shaking him like a rag doll until he grew silent. "What is all this about? I offer you the means to protecting the mate of your Childe and this is how you repay me? Tsk, tsk, going for the throat no less, one might actually think you thought you could harm me." Slowly she put him down so that his feet touched the ground. She released him once Darres had both of his arms securely behind his back. "Now, speak."
His eyes flashed gold as he snarled at her. "You think this is a game, Elizabeth, but it is not! To give her my blood will leave a mark on her Spike will never be able to erase! He'll despise me for all time, hunt me until I am dust!" He snarled again, lunging at her only to be held back by Darres's strong grip. "I come here to unite my family, not have my Childe denounce me and begin a Blood Hunt!"
Her hand shot up quickly, grabbing his chin so his eyes could not escape her. "Listen well, Angelus. This girl," she pointed one long black fingernail at Willow, "holds a great deal of power. She is not someone to be trifled with. I care not for your ridiculous family squabbles. Spike may kill you, or he may not, it is of no concern to me. However, this little Queen, is someone I would very much like to owe me a Blood Debt. Therefore, you'll give her the blood she needs to survive and damn the consequences." With a sudden pull, she dragged Angelus within inches of her face. "Or, my little angel, I'll send you back to hell, for the last time."
With a shove, she threw him against the bed frame, the wood splintering under his weight. When he looked up, Elizabeth was staring at the waif with flame hair. "Believe me Angelus, this is for the best." She paused, as if to consider her next words, her nature suddenly caring as she looked down at Willow. "She will indeed be someone you'll want on your side during a fight." Those blue eyes swung up and locked with his. "Now slit your wrist and do something right for a change; save your Childe's mate." And with that, she turned, her shredded dress floating on the current she caused as she exited the room, the mages and Darres following in her wake.
The demon mask falling slowly from his face, Angelus turned to look down at Willow. She was in pain, it was easy to see and hear as she continued to fight against this thing trying to kill her. He didn't profess to truly understanding what Elizabeth meant about "balance" but he had no doubts about a Queen's convictions towards obtaining and holding Blood Debts. If she thought Willow was worthy of one, then Willow truly was something special.
But Angelus knew first hand what could happen if a human girl shared blood with more than one vampire. True, it wasn't that bad so long as the two vampires came from the same bloodline, but Willow would always be connected to him, always, and William--he'd never forgive him.
All his GrandChilde had ever wanted was someone to call his own. Spike had wanted it with Drusilla, and he'd ruthlessly taken it away, taunting William with the knowledge that Drusilla would never be his. He'd made Spike the cold, heartless killer he was today, killed the poet that had so enticed him all those years ago.
Now again, he'd be force to take something from his Childe.
It wasn't fair!
Rage filled him once again, so that he allowed the demon to come forth. Lifting the end table, he hurled it across the room in a shattering of glass and the sickening sound of splintering wood. He wanted to howl, he wanted to scream at the injustice of having the means to finding William, and knowing he'd lose him because of it. This wasn't what he'd planned at all!
"Is Willow gonna be ok?"
Xander. The door was opened only a crack, but Angelus leashed the demon before he could frighten his lover further. Taking an unnecessary breath, he turned, the tension leaving his body. With his hand, he indicated Xander should enter. "She will be, Xander. I need to help her first, but she will be."
When they'd brought her in screaming, Xander had followed suit, shouting at the top of his lungs that he needed to see Willow, he had to see his best friend. Angel had been hard pressed to keep the boy in their rooms when Darres had come to fetch him, but he'd promised that once he knew what was going on, he'd have Xander brought here. Obviously, Elizabeth agreed that Xander should be present.
"What do you have to do?" the boy asked.
Dressed in a pair of dark slacks and a navy blue shirt, Xander rounded the bed opposite him to sit on the edge, his hand immediately taking possession of Willow's. "Will it hurt her? I don't want her hurt."
Angel shook his head and then moved to sit on the bed as well, taking Willow's other hand; noting that it seemed to twitch and tick ever so slightly in her pain. "It won't hurt her, no. It'll make her feel better, or so I've been told." He reached across the dying woman and brushed back a lock of Xander's hair--it was getting so long now. "But it means she and I will always be connected in some way. It means she'll share my blood, and that's a very powerful thing, Xander. It's not to be entered into lightly."
Absorbing the information, he nodded. "But giving her your blood will make her better, right?"
Angel offered a sad smile. "Yes, it'll make her better. But it'll make things harder for us in the long run. Spike will be enraged that I gave her my blood. He'll try to take her away, of that I'm sure. Xander, it means things could get very ugly and dangerous before this is over."
He was startled when the boy laughed, really laughed in a way he hadn't in over six months, in almost 9, in almost the year since Willow had been taken by William. The look Xander gave him was priceless, "Honestly Angel, I fought against vampires with super strength and killer shark teeth; I French kissed a mummy; and I turned into a hyena, I think I can handle one bleached blonde vampire with a appetite for Willow nookie. Now, just do what you gotta do to make her better already."
Startled stupid, Angel stared at his once again coherent partner before shaking himself out of it and nodding. Rolling up his sleeve, he scooted further up the bed and delicately brushed a sheen of sweat off Willow's face. His cool skin must have soothed her, because she leaned into the touch; soft moans of relief emanating from her chest.
And then suddenly, it was as if a blinder had been removed from his eyes. Looking down at her, he saw not the mousy Willow who wore sweaters too fuzzy, or overalls to big; in her place was not a girl child, but a woman. Not just any woman either, a woman claimed by a Master as mate, a woman destined to be not just a Childe of his line, but a Queen, a Queen so powerful that even the White Queen of Rome desired a Blood Debt from her. He saw flawless porcelain skin, flaming red hair, and cinnamon eyelashes that crested perfectly structured cheekbones. Under the soaked sheets, her breasts were firm, her body taunt, and everything about her screamed of sex and controlled violence. Beneath his hand on hers, beneath the layers of skin and muscle, in the very essence of her cells, hummed the call of magic. This was no simple girl, not even an accomplished woman, this was a female mage, blessed with the body of a siren, and the power of a god.
She was perfect.
And Spike had claimed her first.
Regret coursed through him. How could he have been so blind? What could have been wrong with him to have chosen the daft Slayer over this work of art before him? Willow had been there almost from the beginning. She'd been Buffy's friend, ally, and confidant--hell, even he'd gone to her for advice. He'd been distracted by retched clothes, and a shy personality, he'd ignored the signs that had been screaming even back then. She was power personified, and it had taken a poet to see what was truly inside.
Xander cleared his throat. "Um, sometime tonight, Angel. Spike's going to bust down that door pretty quick, and you'd better have laid the vampire mojo on Willow by then."
With a shake of his head in regret of what could have been, Angel slid into position behind Willow and used his fangs to slice his wrist open. Bringing his wrist to her mouth he used his other hand to part her lips. A moment later he felt the first pull on his slashed wrist and knew without a doubt she'd fed from William just like this.
One hand slid down onto her hair, gently petting her as Xander slid closer to offered soft encouragements. "You're doing great, Will. Just wait, you'll see, you'll be as good as new. I was thinking we should make a junk food run once you come to your senses. I don't know how you say Twinkie in Italian, but I'm willing to spend all night trying to find out if you are."
The slow, growing feeling of warmth wasn't at all expected. Vampires that gave blood became cold as their body lost its energy source. But within the center of his being came a glowing warmth that slowly radiated from there until he felt encased in heat, warmed as if by the sun itself.
Xander looked up then and caught his eye. "Um, Angel...you're glowing. You know that right?"
He didn't get a chance to answer.
The bedroom door exploded, and from that chaos emerged a Master Vampire with the killing rage in his eyes
William the Bloody had come to reclaim his stolen Queen.
Sick as a Dog
Spike wrapped his strong arms protectively around Willow's shaking frame. Lightly he kissed the back of her bright auburn hair. "I'm so sorry Luv, if I'd have thought you'd be at all sick, I never would have brought you here," he soothed as he ran his hands across her damp forehead.
Silently Willow nodded, not trusting her voice as the evil waves emanating from the Hellmouth washed against her heightened senses. Slowly she lifted her shaky hand and rested it against Spike's biceps.
With a low soothing sound he reached down to draw yet another cover over Willow. Her shields had held strong for the first few days, but after a week the essence of evil had reduced her to a shaking mess. He'd given her his blood on the fifth day--with much improvement, but the effects had worn off within a day and it was too soon for another exchange.
A soft moan escaped her lips as she cautiously rolled over and buried her face against his chest. Her head was killing her and her insides felt like knots whenever she breathed. It was like drawing poison into her lungs, the evil polluting her body. All Willow wanted to do was crawl home to Windemere. She knew Spike had wanted her to enjoy Rome but as the magic had settled into her system, extremes of any kind caused her discomfort.
After being touched by the Goddess she'd felt invincible, but that feeling had quickly dissipated after a trip into town to collect her weekly dollhouse piece. It had been All Saints Day, and the local church was hosting an all night vigil. As the car had passed the church she'd felt the stirrings of discomfort but it wasn't until later when she and Spike had passed it on the way to the tavern that she'd truly felt the full impact of that holy place.
She should have figured it out, she was getting complacent letting Spike take care of her all the time. He'd had to carry her for three blocks when she'd collapsed that night, but they hadn't realized it had been the church. She wanted to kick herself for not figuring it out in the first place.
The unease had grown from the moment the plane had begun to circle the airport. But the second her feet had touched the ground, she'd understood. Now she was miserable and unable to seek relief from the welcoming evil of Spike's blood to balance her system. It would be days before she could seek that relief, and the knowledge that the hours would be filled with so much pain, brought tears to her eyes.
Cool fingers caressed the back of her neck, and she didn't know if the feeling was comforting or painful. But as always, Spike's voice soothed her frazzled nerves, calming her spirit, "Luv, I know you don't want too but it's been two days, you have to eat something."
Squeezing her eyes tightly she shook her head but Spike rapped his fingers against her spine in a silent reprimand. "You're eating and that's it. Now, what sounds good?"
Hesitantly she raised her head to glare at him before conceding his point. "Ice cream, cake, sweets. No meat," she groaned, "Oh please no meat." His hand went back to petting her hair as she lowered her head back against the pillow.
She could hear the smile she couldn't see. "Gelato. It's an Italian ice cream--well not really, since there's no ice, but you get the point. It's packed with good old-fashioned butter, fat and other cancer causing ingredients, " he paused then, "I'll get you two.
"I think I saw a sweet shop when we checked in." He kissed her damp forehead, "Will you be alright without me for a few minutes? I can't imagine it'll take more than ten--"
Her hand came up to cover his lips. "If you're going to go, then go." She knew she was being short but her head was pounding, her stomach was turning, and she suddenly felt all around worse.
Ever the gentleman poet, Spike kissed her fingertips and then carefully rose from the bed, sliding a pillow into his place so Willow had something to lean against. Reaching over her, he picked up the key and clicked off the sidelight, dropping the room into blue twilight. He didn't want to leave her, didn't want to take a step out of that room knowing she was sick because of him. But she needed to eat and his inability to take her with him was the only thing prompting him to leave her at all. You'd think the Presidential Suite would have all night room service, but it was sanctioned under the same 1am rule as the rest of the hotel, and he knew it would take longer to argue than to just go and get it himself. Slowly, he skimmed his hand over her hair one last time before walking across the room to slide into his coat. He was surprised when he heard her sitting up, his eyes flashing over to catch her pale complexion.
Her voice was tired as she apologized, "I'm sorry I snapped at you. Be careful, you know how those ice cream men can be." He saw her smile in the darkness. "I love you, Will."
It was a new thing for her, calling him Will. She said it was more intimate than Spike, and maybe a part of him agreed. He liked the way his old name rolled off her tongue, like liquid honey. On the other hand, it was a different thing all together. In the old days, no one but his drinking buddies would have called him Will instead of William--not that he had any of those--so to hear her call him that in her soft, silky voice, it definitely put a new spin on that age old name.
"I'll be careful Luvie. You get some rest, I shouldn't be more than twenty minutes or so." He watched as she slid back under the covers, listened to the uneasy draw of breath she took, and tried not to shudder. He had to leave now or he never would.
Duster draping his long body, he swirled towards the door, the fabric catching in the breeze.
Darres watched as the blond vampire left the building, his famous black leather duster exiting the door moments behind him. Spike was a legend in and of himself; there wasn't a vampire alive that didn't know the history around that leather jacket. Masters told Childer, and Childer told minions, and so it went that the jacket of the Slayer became a symbol of vampire victory.
The blond had no idea of course. He'd been on the Hellmouth so long, shut away so long with that crazy bitch Drusilla, he had no idea how truly famous he'd become. On the other hand, that was probably a good thing, considering how Spike dealt with fame.
With eyes that had witnessed the rise and fall of empires, Darres watched Spike round the corner before giving the signal. Instantly, six Childer moved out of the shadows and walked knowingly into the Grand Hotel Parco dei Principi.
Hitching his duster up around his face to conceal his identity, Darres mounted the marble steps and walked through the door Marcus held for him. The rich warmth of the reception room filled him with a sense of Victorian opulence. Chandeliers adorned the ceiling, casting a warming glow on the rich burgundy wood of the counters and furniture.
With another nod, three Childer moved towards the elevators, while Richard cast a quiet spell that forced onlookers to glance away.
When the doors opened, the elevator operator was quickly silenced, and his group moved stealthy into the lift and quickly began their assent. To his right, Marcus produced a keycard and swiped it, allowing them access to the presidential suite, and their prize.
The deep Italian filled the quiet elevator, but Darres shook his head and answered in English. "We are not to frighten her. We grab her and exit the way we came. Richard will conceal our exit. Rafe will have the car outside when we arrive." He turned to look sharply at his men, Childer he'd given the gift to centuries ago so that they now worked together as a flawless team, no matter what the situation. "Thomas, do you have the envelop?"
"Yes." Said the smaller, stockier man towards the back of the elevator, using English as he knew Darres would want them too while handling the woman.
"Good."
Then there was nothing more to say.
When the elevator opened, it was directly into the reception room. Decorated in gold, crystal, and satin, it was a room that spoke of Spike's vanity, and gave a hint of what the woman inside would undoubtedly be like as well. As a unit they stood just inside the elevator, listening for any movement. What they heard was the beat of a heart.
Marcus's harsh whisper cut through the silence. "He left his woman unguarded and asleep?"
From behind, a few of the Childer scoffed, but Darres silenced them with a glare. "Listen." The room once again became silent as they followed his orders. In the wake of the stillness, he answered the question. "Her heart labors. She is ill. He's left her under duress no doubt. We will complete our mission and add as little more as possible." He turned and fixed his second with ice blue eyes. "The plan has changed, I will take the woman. Marcus, coordinate the efforts of the others and the note; we'll meet back up at the car." At the nod of wheat blond hair, Darres walked purposefully into the room and towards the beating heart.
She fought her way to wakefulness. Something around her wasn't right. Opening her eyes, Willow looked towards the door, her enhanced senses making the room like twilight instead of pitch black. She heard what sounded like fabric against fabric, and focused her hearing on that sound as she struggled to sit up. Her magic was so far beyond her now it was painful; a reminder that she was vulnerable in this life even with Spike's protection.
Silently, she lifted her hand to wipe away the sweat that stung her eyes as it trickled from her hairline. She was so ill, nothing looked right, things seemed to move in the shadows, while the room itself rocked slowly back and forth as she tried to focus on the door. One shaking hand stole to rest across her stomach as a wave of nausea attacked.
Leaning forward she allowed a gentle rocking to ease her fears and discomfort. She didn't hear or see the movement as much as she sensed it, and her body went still and silent as her eyes looked up and directly into the icy blue of a vampire that was not Spike.
For a long moment they simply stared at each other, and she got the impression he was startled that she had found him in the inky blackness. Her first instinct was to scream, her second was to run, but without the strength, both were futile. Instead, she opened her mouth and spoke calmly, with an air of authority that came from the being she would become.
"Who sent you?"
To her surprise, the vampire before her bowed deeply at the waist, a sign of great respect that was reflected on his face once he rose. When he spoke it was with an Old World accent that could have filled a million fantasies. "The White Queen requests your presence until such time as your mate returns to claim you." He arched an eyebrow then, "I would suggest that you do not fight. In your condition it could only do you more damage."
She was surprised by the concern, but refused to show it. Instead, Willow turned her body to face him, refusing when the vampire stepped forward to offer assistance. "Who are you?" She asked hoarsely, the small amount of movement taxing.
His voice was a deep baritone, but it was magical to hear. "Who I am is not important."
Willow shook her head. "It's important to me. I like to know who's kidnapping me." She looked up at him and again locked their eyes, refusing to release him until he answered.
"My name is Darres, head of security for the White Queen, Elizabeth."
Willow smiled then, a true smile. "Well, I suppose if I couldn't make it she would send an escort to pick me up." She reveled in the neutral expression that belayed his shock. "If you wait, Spike will be back shortly." Closing her eyes, she pressed them tightly together as another wave of pain radiated through her body.
Cool hands brushed against her cheeks, cooling her feverish skin. "You are ill, Lady Willow. Allow me to escort you to White Stone, we have healers that can attend to you there."
With limited options, Willow offered a nod before closing her eyes against the nausea as he swept her up into his arms. "As if I have a choice," she mumbled, too tired to ring her arms around his neck.
The smile was in his voice. "You do not, Lady Willow, but the concern is genuine. You will not be harmed, and I will have our healers look you over immediately."
Again she nodded. "Spike?"
Darres gave a soft laugh. "Rest assured Lady, your mate will know exactly where to find you."
"What's wrong with her?"
He'd known the moment she'd been brought into the house; everyone had known. The pain-filled screams had alerted the entire household, and Angelus had run out of the library just in time to see Darres spirit her quickly into a Quiet Room; but the screaming did not stop.
Darres had come to fetch him ten minutes later, and now as he looked down at the pale, sweat covered face of the woman that bore Spike's mark, he knew something was terribly, horribly wrong with her.
"To be honest, Master Angelus, we do not know. She resists our aid even in her weakened condition." There were five mages in the room, three of them legendary. To hear Barak admit he had no idea--the situation was bad.
In her sleep Willow moaned, her body weakly thrashing against the white satin sheets that made her look all the more pale. Tears mingled with sweat, and he found himself brushing them from her cheeks, his hand shaking.
Turning, he looked to Darres. "I have a hard time believing Spike would have left her in this condition." He made it a statement, filled with equal parts doubt and concern.
The much older vampire shook his head. "She was not at all like this until we neared White Stone. About a mile out her breathing and heart rate became erratic. When we entered through the shield, that is when she began to scream." Darres turned to once again look at Willow, a concerned expression on his face. "Once she began, she would not stop. I fear she is in a great deal of pain, and yet I cannot understand why."
From the doorway, came their answer as Elizabeth swept in, a long, multi-colored silk dress hanging about her frame. "Her body seeks to establish a balance that it cannot reach while above the widest Hellmouth in the world." She glided around Angelus and rested her elegant hand across Willow's forehead, her fingertips moving in a soothing motion. "Not at all the way I wanted to meet you, Little Queen." She sighed, an airy sound of summer wind through spring leaves. "She needs blood," she said, her gaze sweeping around to lock with his. "She needs the blood of her line, and Spike's blood is too diluted to provide for her; it must be yours."
Startled, Angelus looked down at the girl who now seemed a little more at ease as Elizabeth caressed her cheek lightly. "Spike has claimed her, marked her. To even attempt to give her my blood--"
"Would most likely make him hate you for the rest of your unlife." She stated, her nature blasé at best. "However, there are only two options. One is that she leave this place; and in her current condition, she wouldn't survive the journey. The second is to balance her system, fill her body with as much evil as it can withstand; otherwise the imbalance will kill her. As you are Spike's Grandsire, you're blood contains the same demon. If any of the others were to offer their blood in your place, the two demons would killer her in moments as they fought for dominance." She leaned forward, her eyes holding his captive with her will alone. "No, Angelus, it is your blood or her death, there is no other options."
He was quiet for a moment before he shook his head. "No. I won't betray William this way. There has to be another way; something we've over looked."
Elizabeth pulled away from him, walked behind him and turned to stare up at the molded ceiling. "I wondered when the great Angelus would become the Irish Coward I always knew him to be." Rage. The killing kind. One that had cost many a village in his youth. It consumed him like fire to a reaped field and before he knew it he was upon her. His hands like claws, his fangs bared, he went right for her throat, his claws digging into her beautiful dress and reducing it to shreds.
Darres never moved. He didn't have too. With one bejeweled hand, Elizabeth caught Angelus about the neck and lifted him off the ground. Her expression smiling up at him, mocking him. But he was beyond caring, beyond anything except the desperation of his situation, and the constant pain of his eternal existence. Hissing and spitting, his hands reached for her; reached to rip that mocking smile right off her beautiful face.
She turned to Darres. "They're so temperamental when they're this young. I'd forgotten how lucky I was to have such wise and tested help." She smiled sweetly, "I thank you for your centuries of service Darres." The dark haired man with ice blue eyes bowed at the waist but did not comment.
"Now for you, Angelus." She said, shaking him like a rag doll until he grew silent. "What is all this about? I offer you the means to protecting the mate of your Childe and this is how you repay me? Tsk, tsk, going for the throat no less, one might actually think you thought you could harm me." Slowly she put him down so that his feet touched the ground. She released him once Darres had both of his arms securely behind his back. "Now, speak."
His eyes flashed gold as he snarled at her. "You think this is a game, Elizabeth, but it is not! To give her my blood will leave a mark on her Spike will never be able to erase! He'll despise me for all time, hunt me until I am dust!" He snarled again, lunging at her only to be held back by Darres's strong grip. "I come here to unite my family, not have my Childe denounce me and begin a Blood Hunt!"
Her hand shot up quickly, grabbing his chin so his eyes could not escape her. "Listen well, Angelus. This girl," she pointed one long black fingernail at Willow, "holds a great deal of power. She is not someone to be trifled with. I care not for your ridiculous family squabbles. Spike may kill you, or he may not, it is of no concern to me. However, this little Queen, is someone I would very much like to owe me a Blood Debt. Therefore, you'll give her the blood she needs to survive and damn the consequences." With a sudden pull, she dragged Angelus within inches of her face. "Or, my little angel, I'll send you back to hell, for the last time."
With a shove, she threw him against the bed frame, the wood splintering under his weight. When he looked up, Elizabeth was staring at the waif with flame hair. "Believe me Angelus, this is for the best." She paused, as if to consider her next words, her nature suddenly caring as she looked down at Willow. "She will indeed be someone you'll want on your side during a fight." Those blue eyes swung up and locked with his. "Now slit your wrist and do something right for a change; save your Childe's mate." And with that, she turned, her shredded dress floating on the current she caused as she exited the room, the mages and Darres following in her wake.
The demon mask falling slowly from his face, Angelus turned to look down at Willow. She was in pain, it was easy to see and hear as she continued to fight against this thing trying to kill her. He didn't profess to truly understanding what Elizabeth meant about "balance" but he had no doubts about a Queen's convictions towards obtaining and holding Blood Debts. If she thought Willow was worthy of one, then Willow truly was something special.
But Angelus knew first hand what could happen if a human girl shared blood with more than one vampire. True, it wasn't that bad so long as the two vampires came from the same bloodline, but Willow would always be connected to him, always, and William--he'd never forgive him.
All his GrandChilde had ever wanted was someone to call his own. Spike had wanted it with Drusilla, and he'd ruthlessly taken it away, taunting William with the knowledge that Drusilla would never be his. He'd made Spike the cold, heartless killer he was today, killed the poet that had so enticed him all those years ago.
Now again, he'd be force to take something from his Childe.
It wasn't fair!
Rage filled him once again, so that he allowed the demon to come forth. Lifting the end table, he hurled it across the room in a shattering of glass and the sickening sound of splintering wood. He wanted to howl, he wanted to scream at the injustice of having the means to finding William, and knowing he'd lose him because of it. This wasn't what he'd planned at all!
"Is Willow gonna be ok?"
Xander. The door was opened only a crack, but Angelus leashed the demon before he could frighten his lover further. Taking an unnecessary breath, he turned, the tension leaving his body. With his hand, he indicated Xander should enter. "She will be, Xander. I need to help her first, but she will be."
When they'd brought her in screaming, Xander had followed suit, shouting at the top of his lungs that he needed to see Willow, he had to see his best friend. Angel had been hard pressed to keep the boy in their rooms when Darres had come to fetch him, but he'd promised that once he knew what was going on, he'd have Xander brought here. Obviously, Elizabeth agreed that Xander should be present.
"What do you have to do?" the boy asked.
Dressed in a pair of dark slacks and a navy blue shirt, Xander rounded the bed opposite him to sit on the edge, his hand immediately taking possession of Willow's. "Will it hurt her? I don't want her hurt."
Angel shook his head and then moved to sit on the bed as well, taking Willow's other hand; noting that it seemed to twitch and tick ever so slightly in her pain. "It won't hurt her, no. It'll make her feel better, or so I've been told." He reached across the dying woman and brushed back a lock of Xander's hair--it was getting so long now. "But it means she and I will always be connected in some way. It means she'll share my blood, and that's a very powerful thing, Xander. It's not to be entered into lightly."
Absorbing the information, he nodded. "But giving her your blood will make her better, right?"
Angel offered a sad smile. "Yes, it'll make her better. But it'll make things harder for us in the long run. Spike will be enraged that I gave her my blood. He'll try to take her away, of that I'm sure. Xander, it means things could get very ugly and dangerous before this is over."
He was startled when the boy laughed, really laughed in a way he hadn't in over six months, in almost 9, in almost the year since Willow had been taken by William. The look Xander gave him was priceless, "Honestly Angel, I fought against vampires with super strength and killer shark teeth; I French kissed a mummy; and I turned into a hyena, I think I can handle one bleached blonde vampire with a appetite for Willow nookie. Now, just do what you gotta do to make her better already."
Startled stupid, Angel stared at his once again coherent partner before shaking himself out of it and nodding. Rolling up his sleeve, he scooted further up the bed and delicately brushed a sheen of sweat off Willow's face. His cool skin must have soothed her, because she leaned into the touch; soft moans of relief emanating from her chest.
And then suddenly, it was as if a blinder had been removed from his eyes. Looking down at her, he saw not the mousy Willow who wore sweaters too fuzzy, or overalls to big; in her place was not a girl child, but a woman. Not just any woman either, a woman claimed by a Master as mate, a woman destined to be not just a Childe of his line, but a Queen, a Queen so powerful that even the White Queen of Rome desired a Blood Debt from her. He saw flawless porcelain skin, flaming red hair, and cinnamon eyelashes that crested perfectly structured cheekbones. Under the soaked sheets, her breasts were firm, her body taunt, and everything about her screamed of sex and controlled violence. Beneath his hand on hers, beneath the layers of skin and muscle, in the very essence of her cells, hummed the call of magic. This was no simple girl, not even an accomplished woman, this was a female mage, blessed with the body of a siren, and the power of a god.
She was perfect.
And Spike had claimed her first.
Regret coursed through him. How could he have been so blind? What could have been wrong with him to have chosen the daft Slayer over this work of art before him? Willow had been there almost from the beginning. She'd been Buffy's friend, ally, and confidant--hell, even he'd gone to her for advice. He'd been distracted by retched clothes, and a shy personality, he'd ignored the signs that had been screaming even back then. She was power personified, and it had taken a poet to see what was truly inside.
Xander cleared his throat. "Um, sometime tonight, Angel. Spike's going to bust down that door pretty quick, and you'd better have laid the vampire mojo on Willow by then."
With a shake of his head in regret of what could have been, Angel slid into position behind Willow and used his fangs to slice his wrist open. Bringing his wrist to her mouth he used his other hand to part her lips. A moment later he felt the first pull on his slashed wrist and knew without a doubt she'd fed from William just like this.
One hand slid down onto her hair, gently petting her as Xander slid closer to offered soft encouragements. "You're doing great, Will. Just wait, you'll see, you'll be as good as new. I was thinking we should make a junk food run once you come to your senses. I don't know how you say Twinkie in Italian, but I'm willing to spend all night trying to find out if you are."
The slow, growing feeling of warmth wasn't at all expected. Vampires that gave blood became cold as their body lost its energy source. But within the center of his being came a glowing warmth that slowly radiated from there until he felt encased in heat, warmed as if by the sun itself.
Xander looked up then and caught his eye. "Um, Angel...you're glowing. You know that right?"
He didn't get a chance to answer.
The bedroom door exploded, and from that chaos emerged a Master Vampire with the killing rage in his eyes
William the Bloody had come to reclaim his stolen Queen.