Willow waited outside in the cool night air, watching for Buffy to leave on patrol. Everything had gone crazy since Oz left. None of her friends really got it, and now, with this spell making everything worse, they all looked at her with irritation or maybe, if she was lucky, it was exasperation. It just wouldn't do. She needed to fix this, had spent all day digging through every magic shop in town. She had found a spell, a spell that wasn't quite perfect. A deep breath helped calm her nerves. It was simple to do. She looked at the bag nestled next to the tree trunk. Everything was in there. She had the spell to make things better, but none of them would listen to her about magic now. She could lobby the others, but Buffy would stop her. Buffy wouldn't listen, she just didn't comprehend how powerful magic could be used as a tool in everyday life.
Willow shifted trying to keep still. Buffy usually headed out on patrol earlier than this. Spike was changing her routines, and they had only been living together for a few hours. She considered going to Giles for a moment, but discarded the notion. He would want to do days of research while Buffy was trapped living with Spike. She shuddered. There was no choice. She had to save Buffy tonight.
When Buffy emerged through the massive front doors of the casa de vampire, Willow shrank back into the shadows. Spike called out from the door, his words unintelligible, and Buffy turned back. She was laughing, reaching out and hugging the dead thing in the spill of light coming out of his home. Willow dropped her eyes, not wanting to see what her friend was doing. She looked up again as Buffy headed out along the driveway, moving easily in a steady jog.
Willow shivered as she gathered the bag and headed toward the door. She shoved her hand in her pocket and grasped the small potion balloon concealed there. He would drop like a stone, unconscious, as soon as the liquid hit his skin. It would work. She scrunched up her face in determination. It had to work, for Buffy, for them all.
The doors were scary big. She gulped and knocked. Waiting for him to answer, she agonized over her decision one last time. Giles might find a better way, or help her with the big magics. The door opened and Spike looked at her with one eyebrow raised. He didn't smile or make any real effort to be friendly.
"You've just missed Buffy. She won't be home for a bit." He stepped back allowing her entrance without invitation. She nodded as she stepped into the brightly lit room. He noticed the bag hanging from her fingers. "Oh, did you bring her some more of her things?"
"Well, I wanted to help. I feel so bad about all this." Willow shrugged as she walked into the giant, empty room. "This place is huge."
"Observant, aren't you?" Spike glared at her for a moment. "Would you like the tour?"
"No, I'll just wait for Buffy." She stared at his feet. "Where do you sit?"
"In this room, we sit on the floor." He bit back the urge to kick the little witch out. Buffy wanted him to play nice with her little humans. He walked over to a large crate propped against one wall. He ran his fingers along the wood and grinned. "I've some unpacking to do. Would you like to help?"
"What's in the box?" Willow asked, trying to build up the courage to toss the potion.
"A painting I bought a very long time ago. I never thought to see it after Angel killed off Darla. She stored my things over the years. She wasn't kind or caring, but she was detail oriented. Then her prize offs her for another girl." Spike smirked and took a deep breath. "As head of the clan, he has the right to all the things we stored over the years. I wasn't much for collecting, but there were times I couldn't resist. It's nice that I don't have to go to him, hat in hand, again."
"It must be strange, having to do all of this. I mean you and Drusilla lived in an old factory. This must be so hard for you." Willow stared at the floor.
"Dru has to travel. When her mind flips she has to go. There's no time to close down a place. It was easier to live off the land so to speak. Doesn't mean it's what I wanted. I loved this painting, paid a nice sum for it, too. Now, I get to bloody well enjoy it."
Willow watched as he pried the crate open and jumped as he dropped the wooden side panel to the floor with a resounding clap. She looked up at the soft greens and warm golds of the old painting. It was easily nine feet long. There were hounds curled and sleeping in the foreground. A golden haired woman reclined in a field of flowers, sleeping, shaded by the trees from the afternoon sun, her body was draped in a white clingy kind of dress, one shoulder was bare and a golden band rode high on her upper arm. There was a bow and quiver propped against a rock, next to the river that flowed not far from the spill of her hair. It was lovely.
"She looks like Buffy, at least a little bit. Like Buffy gone voluptuous." Willow said. "I mean not exactly, but there is something about it that makes me think of her when I look at it."
"Yeah, I know. Thought of this painting that first night, when she was dancing at that seedy little club, and it hadn't crossed my mind in fifty years." Spike plucked the gilt-framed painting from the crate and carried it carefully to the wall opposite the front doors. "I want it here, want it to be the first thing guests see when they walk into our home. It's fitting. Hughes called it 'The Huntress in Repose'."
"So, you have art, and no furniture. That must be difficult." Willow pushed out the words through her dry mouth.
"We have some art. I've already hung another one of his in the library. It's smaller, but I think she'll like it as well. Would you like to see it?" Spike turned to face her and she bit her lip. "We have furniture in there. Well, a few pieces at least."
"Shouldn't we get this one up first?" She asked, buying more time. It was one thing to plan to dust a vampire, another to actually carry through with the act.
Buffy laughed and ducked as the lumbering demon attacked. It wasn't fast or very smart, but it was strong and she was enjoying the fight. She examined it. Giles would want details. It had scarlet scales, slightly curved talons, and yellow bird eyes. She grinned as it came straight for her. She flipped over it, and waited for it to realize it was charging empty air. It slammed into a tree and bellowed.
The last few days had played havoc with her sense of self. Having memories not her own was a weirdness. Spike had memories, good memories of things she abhorred. She knew the pleasure of life as a vampire, now. She rolled her neck, and forced her head back in the game.
The demon charged at her again. She spun to the side, felt the air ruffle her hair. It was good to be out, being the slayer again. She giggled as she spun away from the long talons again. She was really playing with the poor thing.
Spike was waiting for her. Their new bed was waiting for her. Dinner was waiting for her. A smile broke across her face. Maybe they could combine all three.
"I need to get home," she said as she pulled the short sword strapped to her thigh. "Play time is over."
Willow watched as Spike stood back and stared at the painting. He looked satisfied. He was planning some demonic future for her best friend, making her some opulent dream house. This needed to stop before Buffy settled in. Willow's hand closed over the potion balloon in her pocket. It filled her palm, with its squishy coldness. She needed to do this now.
"Buffy will be pleased, I think." Spike said as he turned to face her with a smile. "Thank you for the help."
She tossed the potion and watched it splash open on his face. He stood for a moment his eyes blinking and then tumbled to the floor.
"I have to save Buffy." Willow rubbed her arms, feeling nauseous. "It will be better once I've fixed this."
She dragged his body into the correct position. He lay with his eyes glazed and unaware. He didn't breathe or move. The first step was done. She looked for her bag and ran for her supplies. He might not stay down for long.
Buffy felt her body stiffen; unable to move, every muscle unresponsive. the red scaly demon was charging at her. She felt fear take hold. There was no way to escape. She could barely breathe. She closed her eyes with great effort. She thought of all she would lose, and her thoughts all turned on Spike. The demon slid its talons into her stomach. Unable to scream or react, she was shoved several feet, her heels leaving furrows in the dark earth under her feet. The pain burned through her body, and as suddenly as the paralysis had hit her it was gone.
She grimaced and beheaded the demon. Its momentum carried it forward. Demon blood spurted all over her. She shoved the thing's chest. As it collapsed, the talons dragged from her body with a splash of blood. She pressed her hand over the wound, her fingers splayed wide. It wouldn't be so good if her guts slid out before her healing kicked in. She considered lying on the ground and waiting, but her blood would be drawing the monsters soon. She had to move.
It was too far to the nearest pay phone, she winced as she turned slowly toward home. Knowing that her chances of making it to safety were at best slim, she fought for every agonizing step. Her body still seemed off. She fell to her knees. She looked up at the sky. The moon was half hidden from her. There were so few stars. She had expected to die in battle, not limping home from it.
Drusilla's voice filled her head. Buffy grimaced and forced herself back to her feet. She started to sing along, used the song to drive her forward, each painful step on the beat. When she faltered, the warbling voice in her head all but screamed. Progress was slow, but she needed to get home.
"I really need to master the mind thing. I could call Spike if I get hurt." She mumbled.
Drusilla raised the volume and Buffy sang along. Never had nursery rhymes been so appealing. Even Dru's voice became a comfort.
"I won't complain about your singing anymore, Dru." Buffy could see street lights in the distance. "You get me home, and I'll learn to sing along. We will harmonize and make the guys crazy. We will have fun."
Dru started to sing a new song. It was one Spike liked. Buffy felt a driving urge to get home, to get to Spike. She would be safe at home, with time to heal. She stumbled on, trying to move faster, fighting the urge to lie down and rest. She sang along, more mumbling, than singing, but it kept her moving. Spike would be waiting with warm Chinese food.
Her body wasn't healing. The bleeding should have stopped by now. She shuddered and went down to her knees. She could hear the road just a few yards distant. Dru switched to an oldie. Something Aretha sang about respect. Buffy managed to continue on her knees. Her body just wanted to stop, but her will kept her going. She was going to make it home to her mate. She crawled to a tree and pulled herself up, digging her fingers into the bark and wrenching her body back to its feet. She stumbled toward the road. She could see the glistening asphalt, damp from the sprinklers. Laughter broke from her lips, loud in the night. She turned and moved along the road, Drusilla singing a song from The Wiz. When she stumbled over a tree branch and went down, she pulled herself forward along the ground, clawing into the ground for purchase. She had to get to Spike.