Chapter Thirteen

Death enveloped her in a thick black cloak; she saw no point in resisting it. Death is warm, life is cold. A gentle voice soothed her, she thought of her mother and when she had been sick with the flu as a small child. That was what death felt like. She was five years old again, tucked up in bed with her mother pressing a cool cloth to her fevered brow. Death wasn't scary. It was comforting. As Willow succumbed completely to the darkness she felt herself relax, Spike couldn't hurt her anymore. She was safe.

Spike remained by Willow's corpse, he had decided against burying her. What was the point? Funerals for newborn vampires were so they could live their new life in peace. The family wouldn't be looking for someone they had buried. And where would he bury her? In the middle of the woods? Unless he was about to dig a grave in Hyde Park he was going to struggle to find some sort of wooded area in London. He watched her transformation with fascination; he had never witnessed someone in the transition. He could barely remember his own. He remembered the ripping pain, the splitting of his soul from his body. He imagined that was what paper felt when you tore it up.

The warm blanket began to tinkle, subtly at first as if someone had pressed something with small electrical to her. but the tinkling began to grow, soon she felt as if her skin was being ripped apart at the seams. Willow tried to open her mouth to scream but she had no control over her body. She had no body! Close your mind to the pain, a snide voice scorned her. You're too weak. Close your mind and die. If Willow could nod she would have, she tried to close her mind but the ripping sensation grew. DIE! Where had the soothing voice gone? She didn't like this scornful voice. If you die the pain stops you stupid bitch! So just DIE!

"Tonight, after tonight I will not come back I promise you."

"I told you three nights ago I wanted you gone!" Alessandra hissed at Angel.

"I cannot go until you do the spell." Angel's dark eyes flashed and he fought back the urge to snap Alessandra's scrawny neck like a stick. "He's turned her...she's either going through the transformation now or she's waking."

"You had best hope she's awake." Alessandra snapped pushing back her sleeves and lighting a candle. "I pity the poor cow more if she retains her soul during this." Angel bit his lip, perhaps she was right. He had searched for Spike to try and see if Willow was a vampire, human or in the transition of human to vampire. But he'd been unsuccessful. If she wasn't even dead yet then this would be a waste of time, Alessandra would only attempt the spell once. If she was a vampire then all he could do was hope she'd not killed yet, if she was in the transition...

Please be a vampire, he found himself praying. Perhaps he should have realised a creature like him praying was futile, and would do Willow no favours.

DIE! DIE! DIE! The scornful voice was incessant and Willow wished she could just die. Wait. Somewhere she found her own voice. I am dead...he killed me...the blanket... Was this what it felt like to become a vampire? The searing ripping pain, the fire spreading all over her body? She longed to scream but she had no physical being, she was trapped in a black void of pain.

Spike watched as Willow's body began to tremble, his face hardened in anticipation and knelt beside her stroking her face gently. He had covered her with a duvet, but her hands rested atop it folded across her chest. Her face was smooth and relaxed, but within a split second her features crinkled together and her lips pulled back to bare two small fangs where her incisors had once been. Her eyes snapped open and Spike felt himself harden at the sight of her amber and black eyes. Instantly though her face relaxed and Spike almost recoiled, something was wrong.

The pain ceased as soon as Willow's eyes opened, she stared up into Spike's amber eyes and gave a small cry. She pushed the duvet away from herself and frantically scrabbled at her neck feeling for the wound he'd inflicted on her. Her skin was smooth, there wasn't even a dip to indicate a scar, no change of texture. But the blood... The thought of the blood brought memories of his own blood filling her mouth, her stomach growled and she felt her face harden. She needed to eat. She needed blood.

"No. No. NO!" She screamed feeling her face with her hands, her normally smooth skin was ridged and taut, she felt the fangs which took up a lot more space than her incisors. She could see perfectly in the tunnel, only a fire lit the dark lair but she could see as perfectly as she could in the sunlight. She looked at Spike and saw he had the same horrified expression as her.

Angel sat beside Alessandra's cold corpse, her eyes stared up at him accusingly and he rubbed his face wearily. He had thought she would be strong enough for the spell, after all Willow had and she was just a teenager! Little more than a child. Alessandra had been in her late twenties, had practice witchcraft since she was old enough to hold her own spoon. Willow had only began practicing after she befriended Buffy...how was it she had been able to cast the spell to give him his soul and live to tell the tale?

"I'm sorry," he told Alessandra brushing his fingers over her eyes and closing them gently. Standing up he scoured the small flat for a phone, when he succeeded he called the police and left. He would find Willow, and then he would track down Alessandra's family and repay them his debt to her.