Disclaimer: See chapter 1.
PART 4
Spike once again woke up just after sunset, with Willow once again wrapped around him. He extricated himself from her arms and legs, and settled her beside him before sitting up. His cigarettes were on the night stand beside him, ready to slide off the broken surface at the least provocation, he ignored them and moved to the window. The moon was just starting to rise over the buildings, it's yellowed surface casting a false color on everything in its path.
Darla was out there somewhere. So was Liam. He wasn't exactly sure on the time, but he knew it would happen close to dawn. Something inside him wanted to be there to see it happen, but he was determined to resist. He and Willow may have already changed time just by being there, not to mention having run into both of them on separate occasions. He wasn't about to risk it again.
Willow stirred in the bed, drawing his attention. She lay curled up on her side, facing away from him, her forehead furrowed. She seemed to be having another nightmare, though not because of him this time. As he turned back to the window, a flash of blue in the wardrobe caught his eye. He went over and opened the door. Two period style gowns hung inside, one blue, one brown. Figures, he thought. Even now, when women's styles were rather flashy and daring, Willow chose to be mousy. Though the blue one wasn't as bad as all that. Still, he imagined it was very properly cut, or had a heavy shawl to go over it.
His own clothes, he assumed, were in the dresser. He quietly opened a few drawers, finding two pairs of breeches, two waistcoats, and two ruffled shirts. He quickly dressed in the white breeches, one of the ruffled shirts and the blue brocade waistcoat. He snarled at the stockings he was forced to wear underneath the breeches. The black buckle shoes were even worse. At the first opportunity, he was going to find himself a nice pair of Hessians.
Debating on whether or not to go out hunting, he lit a cigarette. If he went now, he'd reduce the risk of running into Angel and Darla later. Liam would be busy getting drunk, and Darla was most likely out feeding. Feeling anxious, he left the room, heading out into the darkened streets. Having his biting ability back was rather like falling off the wagon. He wanted to feed as often and as much as he could. He wanted to overindulge, and he had been.
Besides, they needed more money.
His wanderings brought him to a house on the outskirts of town. It was a quaint little cottage with--he concentrated-- four people inside. Two adults and two children. He was starving for both blood and sport, and hungry for a thrill and some excitement. He started up the walk when he heard someone behind him. He spun around, and came face to face with Angelus.
Spike stepped back, keeping to the shadows. This wasn't Angelus, it was Liam. The human sized up the vampire with a glare.
"I knew I'd run into you sooner or later," Liam said angrily. "I think this belongs to you." He swung a fist at Spike, which was easily dodged by the vampire. Liam tried again with his other fist, and then a leg when that one missed its mark as well.
After his initial surprise, Spike avoided Liam's punches, and grabbed his leg as he kicked it out. Spike yanked up on the leg, throwing Liam off balance. Liam tumbled to the ground, landing hard. "What's your bloody problem?" Spike snarled, still in the shadows.
Liam jumped up, angrier than before. "You were in the alley last night with your whore, havin' a grand ole time laughin' it up and kickin' me in the ribs." His soft Irish brogue grew more pronounced with each word. "I've been waitin' for you, so I could repay you in kind."
"Never gonna happen," Spike told him. "And she's not my whore, she's my wife." He hoped he sounded angry enough. Probably did, because he was angry. The bastard had no right to call Willow his whore. If he needed a whore, she'd be a hell of a lot more... well, frankly, she wouldn't be Willow. "Don't you have some drinking to do, Angel?" Spike's jaw tightened when he realized what he'd said. He groaned silently at the fury in Liam's eyes. This time when the younger man swung, Spike let the blow land.
"The name's Liam, and you'd do well to remember it, you white-haired bastard." He surreptitiously rubbed his sore hand and glared at spike.
Spike had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing. Angelus had always been brutal, cruel, and mean. As a human, he was just... amusing. Not the least bit threatening. Sure, he'd seen Spike's face somewhat, and had definitely gotten a gander at his bleached hair, but Spike figured that by the time they ran into each other again a hundred and thirty years in the future, Angelus would have forgotten their current encounter.
Willow snuck a look at Spike. He looked extremely handsome in the clothes she'd bought earlier that day, but she so wasn't used to seeing him in anything other than his usual black jeans, black T-Shirt, red button down shirt and leather duster. When she'd gone to the shop that afternoon, she'd had strict instructions from Spike to get him full breeches, not the half breeches that were in fashion now. She hadn't known the first thing about choosing clothes, so she'd been happy to have somewhere to start. It was all rather confusing.
She'd gotten two outfits for the both of them, having been extremely lucky in finding someone else's leftovers. They'd been made for someone who had never picked them up. So Willow bought them. One gown was a plain tan with half sleeves that ended in white lace. The collar was a little lower than she was used to, but it wasn't anywhere near as bad as the leather bustier her vamp double had worn.
The modiste had tried to lace Willow into a corset, but Willow wouldn't let the woman near her with one of those torture devices. She knew the damage they could do and she wasn't about to put herself in one. The dress fit her perfectly without the corset, and would hang off of her if she wore a corset, so she refused the nice modiste. The other dress was similar in design, the only real difference being the color. It was sky blue, with tiny white pearls lining the bodice. She rather liked the blue one. She could get used to dressing like this, especially if they were going to be here as long as Spike intended.
Spike himself had on white breeches, a blue brocade waistcoat with a white ruffled shirt underneath, and Willow had never seen him look more gorgeous. The other outfit consisted of tan breeches, a white ruffled shirt, and a black waistcoat. His clothes and her gowns obviously had been made to match, and she secretly thought they looked pretty cool together.
She'd dressed in the blue gown as soon as she woke up from her nap. She was slightly disappointed that Spike hadn't even noticed her change in clothes, but she knew why. Angelus was to be made tonight.
Spike was anxious, and on edge. He'd been pacing for over an hour now, and smoking like a chimney. She got up from the chair, her skirts swishing around her ankles, and went to the open window, breathing in the smokeless night air.
"Why don't you go already?" she wondered aloud.
"Go where?" he asked distractedly.
"To watch. Angelus is being made tonight. How many vampires get to witness their own creation, in a way?" She turned from the window, watching him. He stopped pacing and flopped in the chair.
"It's not for a few hours yet. And I haven't decided whether I want to go or not," he conceded. "I don't actually fancy seeing the poof, but it could be interesting."
"Sure you do," she told him matter-of-factly. "Fancy seeing the poof-- um, Angel, I mean. This is the Angelus you knew and loved, not the one from Sunnydale. He's your sire, your lover, your--"
Spike shot out of his chair so fast Willow barely saw him move. He stalked over to her and grabbed her by the arms. "You finish that sentence, Red, and I'm going to have to politely rip your throat out, and ruin your pretty new dress. Where the bloody hell did you get the idea that we were ever lovers? Hello! Does a century with Dru ring any bells?"
Willow swallowed nervously, not even trying to pull out of his grasp. She'd been right, the chip was inactive, because his grip was so tight she knew she'd have bruises in a little while... unless they disappeared before they showed up. She wondered how that worked. He was glaring at her with such anger that she figured he'd snap and kill her if she made any sudden moves, so she stayed where she was and tried to calm her racing heart.
"Um, I-- I don't know. I just assumed, we all... assumed, because you're demons, and um..." she trailed off, knowing she was just making it worse. His hands tightened on her arms for a second before he pushed her away.
"You and that damn gang of misfits all think that me and the poof..." he shuddered, scowling at her. "That's just... incredibly disgusting. I mean, not that it's bad if you're into that sort of thing. Wait a second, I'm a vampire, I don't have to be politically correct, I stand by my first statement." He sat back down in the chair. "And Dru's my sire, not poof-boy."
"Dru?" she asked, startled. "But I thought-- Giles said that Angel was you sire, and... what about what you told Angel on parent-teacher night? That Angel was your sire, your Yoda." He raised a brow at her. "Oh, um, Xander told me. He was the one Angel decided to use as bait."
Spike laughed, remembering that night. It was the first time he'd seen Angelus in nearly a hundred years, and he'd been quite surprised. "I remember, the moron thought he was about to die, and all he could do was say, 'I knew it was all an act' to Angel. The boy's got no priorities."
Willow ignored his jibes at Xander. "So Dru's really your sire? Not Angel?" She thought about this, and realized that they knew next to nothing about Spike, a.k.a. William the Bloody. "So that means you're not as old as we thought you were." She looked at him accusingly. "How old *are* you?"
"Not as old as you think I am," he chuckled. "Why?"
"Because I'm curious." He gave her a dubious look. "Okay, you tell me some of your background and I'll regale you with stories of Sunnydale."
He looked less than impressed with her offer. "Why would I care what happened in Sunny D? No deal."
She thought for a second. "How about I tell you about... um..." she couldn't think of anything at first, but then she remembered, "Oh, ooo! The other Willow."
He tossed her a skeptical look, not at all ready to believe her. "Other Willow? Is this a joke? What, like you've got an evil twin out there somewhere?"
"Yep. So? Deal, or no deal?" He nodded after a minute and she grinned. "Okay. You first." She sat down on the bed and rested her back against the headboard.
Spike lit a cigarette, one of his last, and settled back in the chair. "How I Was Sired, by Spike. London, 1880. I ran into Dru, and she made me. There you go. Your turn."
Willow grinned and shook her head. "I don't think so. I'm gonna need a few more details than that. Why did she make you? Where were you when it happened? What was your family like? Did you have a family?"
"Of course I had a family, Witch. Wasn't an orphan if that's what you're thinking. Had a mother, a father, the whole package."
"Oh. Darn. I mean, not darn that you had parents, but darn because I lost a bet."
"You had a bet going on me?" That was laughable, little witch woman had running bets. He didn't think she had it in her.
"Yep. Me and Tara. She said you had a family, I said you were an orphan."
Tara again. Damn, could he not get away from the damn creep? Spike scowled at her. "I'd appreciate it if you and Witch number two didn't make a habit out of discussing me."
She nodded agreeably. "Okay. Sorry."
"Anyhow, I was at a society party, got bored, went out for some fresh air and ran into Dru, Angelus, and Darla. Dru followed me, asked if I wanted to join her. I said yes. She made me, end of story."
"Okay, fine. An alternate universe me was made a vampire, she came to our world, we sent her back." She grinned at him. "You give me more, I'll give you more."
He grinned, enjoying the game. It took his mind off of Darla and Angel, and the events that were going to take place in a few hours. "Okay. Let's see. I got the railroad Spike idea from an aristocrat at the party. Said he'd rather have a railroad Spike driven through his skull than listen to my-- uh, someone's poetry. Or something. So I obliged him." He looked away, not sure why the hell he was telling her this. Luckily she hadn't caught his slip-up. The last thing he needed was for Willow to know--and then run and tell the gang--that he'd been a bloody awful poet.
"My turn," she muttered, looking up at the ceiling in thought. "Um. All right. See, Xander and I had this thing. Uh, for each other. But, I was dating Oz, and Xander was dating Cordelia."
Spike rolled his eyes. "You and the moron? That's just sick, Red."
Willow tossed one of the pillows at him. "You wanna hear this or not?"
Spike caught the pillow inches from his face, and set it on his lap. "Okay, okay, just get on with it. And preferably leave out the Xander bits."
"Hey. No comments from the peanut gallery. I have to mention the Xander bits, they're part of the story, duh. Now, where was I?" she asked, pretending to think on it. Seeing his impatient look, she nodded with a grin. "Um, oh, right. Xander and I were trying to keep away from each other. See, I'd always had a thing for him. Pretty much since forever."
Spike made a show of rolling his eyes and sticking his finger down his throat, until she finally got the hint and skipped over the nauseating parts.
"Anyway, I decided to do a de-lusting spell one night, because things were just getting worse, and neither of us wanted to hurt Oz and Cordelia."
"Thank God there wasn't any shagging. Don't think I could've handled that." She glared at him, and he waved his hand imperiously at her. "Continue."
Another pillow flew across the room at him. He put it behind his head and relaxed.
She went on, watching him pointedly. "So, just as I was about to do the spell, a vampire broke into the room and knocked Xander out."
Spike's eyes narrowed. Something about what she'd said sounded familiar, but he wasn't sure why.
"Yup, just knocked him right out, and dragged us with him to this burnt out old factory." She was near grinning now, watching him for any reaction, and he still wasn't sure why. When he remained quiet, she went on. "He was drunk. Turns out his girlfriend had left him, and he wanted me to do a--"
Spike started laughing. "Love spell to get her back. I remember, but what's that got to do with a vamp you?"
"Well," she said slyly, "I had to show you how it was all your fault."
"My fault?" he snorted. "Not likely."
She sat forward eagerly, obviously dying to tell the rest of her story. "Oh, but it is. 'Kay, see, you kidnapped me and Xander. Ever wonder what happened after you left us there? How we were found?"
He shrugged. "I told the slayer and her puppy where you were."
Her eyes widened, and she laughed delightedly. "Puppy? That's funny, 'cause... well, I'll get to that in a minute. Buffy and Angel didn't find us. Oz and Cordy did. Oz followed my scent, and they rushed to our rescue, only to find us making out on the bed."
"Didn't think you had it in you, Red. Cheating on dogboy?" He made a disgusted face. "I'll refrain from grossing out on *who* you cheated with."
"Yeah," she said, looking sad, and regretful, completely ignoring his last comment. "Neither did I. Anyway, Cordy freaked out and ran, fell through the stairs and landed on a rebar. She never forgave us. Oz did... eventually."
Spike sat back with a yawn. "Still waiting for the part where it's my fault."
"I'm getting there, hold your horses. So, Cordy gets out of the hospital, and her first day back at school she meets this girl who tries to get Cordy to take vengeance on Xander. She does... only, she somehow blames everything on Buffy."
Spike furrowed his brow. "How the hell did she come up with that?"
Willow rolled her eyes. "Please, you do it all the time. You blame everything on Buffy. Dru leaving you, the chip, heck, you probably even blame her for us being here right now. It's a nice scapegoat. She's the slayer, therefore, she's to blame for everything that goes wrong."
Spike had to admit she was right. He did tend to blame things on Buffy. But it was fun, besides, he couldn't admit to being wrong, it just wasn't in his nature. "Okay, so she blamed the slayer, and then what?"
"She wished that Buffy had never come to Sunnydale. Anya granted her wish."
"Anya? Demon girl?" He grinned, rubbing his hands together. "All right, now we're talking. So what happened? The Master must have risen. Wonder if I was there to kill the Anointed One, or if someone else did it."
"I don't know about the Anointed One, but, yeah, the Master did rise. In fact, Xander and I were his favorites. Your turn."
"What? Oh, no. No, no, no, no. You finish yours first." He sounded like a petulant child, but he didn't care. He was rather anxious to hear about Willow as a vampire. He wondered what she was like. Was she still shy and sweet, or did the demon take complete control of her and erase all the 'Willowness' from her personality?
"Tit for tat, Spike. Ya gotta give a little to get a little." It was beginning to get chilly, so she went to the window and shut it, then leaned against the wooden shutters, wrapping her arms around herself.
Spike watched her, admiring the picture she made. She was beautiful, always had been, but in her blue gown, she was breathtaking. He wasn't about to let her know that however, the last thing he needed was an infatuated teenager hanging all over him.
"Well?" she prodded.
"Where'd I leave off?" he asked her.
She crossed her arms over her chest. "Basically, Dru made you and some lord or something gave you the idea for railroad spikes. Details, vague-boy, gimme details."
He chuckled at the impatience in her voice and on her face. She looked about ready to pounce on him to beat the information out of him. He cleared his throat, purposely taking his time. "Let's see. Dru made me, covered that. Got the Spike idea from Lord Smithee, the bastard. Ah, here we go." In his best Bela Lugosi accent, he said, "I tried to be the best creature of the night that I possibly could."
She chuckled and rolled her eyes at him. "Oh, brother."
"Family always came first with me," he continued in his normal voice. "So, I made them a priority."
Her laughter stopped and she went sort of pale, looking rather nauseous all of a sudden.
"Oh, no, pet. Don't you go getting sick now, you wanted details, I'm giving you details. Killed my mother first. She was always rather smothering. Didn't know a boy's gotta go off on his own sometime. My father... well, he was a great guy, so I let him live. Funny thing was, I didn't realize what a great bloke he was while I was alive. Mum's fault I guess."
Willow sat down on the bed, still pale, but looking considerably better. "Those kinds of details I can handle. I thought you were going to get all gory."
"Nah. For some reason humans tend to frown down on that." He laughed at the sarcastic look on her face. "Need more?"
"Yes, please," she answered, sounding all prim and proper, sitting there with her hands in her lap.
"So the four of us cut a bloody swath through blah, blah, blah. You know, I don't think Angelus and I ever liked each other much. He taught me everything I needed to know, but we just clashed way too much. He didn't like the way I did things, I didn't like the way he did things. He was low key, I was--"
"Cocky? Arrogant?" Willow asked innocently. There was a twinkle in her eyes and he had to laugh.
"Yeah. Pretty much. Especially after I found out about the Slayer. Wanted to find me one and kill her."
Willow nodded. "You killed two of them, right?"
"Yeah. Took twenty bleedin' years. Felt like an eternity. The four of us had split up for a bit, but we met up again in China. Hadn't seen Angelus for over a year. Didn't know it at the time, but it was because he was souled. Sure, he was acting all weird and stuff, but we had no idea. Well, me and Dru didn't. Darla knew."
Willow looked at him oddly. "Neither you or Drusilla knew Angel had his soul? Isn't she, like, psychic or something?"
"Not psychic exactly. She has visions, but half the crap she babbles about is just that, crap." He glanced at her when he heard her skirts rustling and was surprised to see her sitting forward, staring at him with a sappy look on her face. "What?" he demanded.
"You. You get this... this look on your face whenever you talk about Drusilla. It's sweet. You still love her. Which is weird, since, vampires aren't supposed to love, but you do."
She was right, he did still love Dru, probably always would. "We can love. In fact, I'd say we love better than humans do. Certainly longer than humans do. Your turn."
"Wait, the slayer. Finish that, then I'll go." She pouted and batted her eyelashes shamelessly.
He sighed explosively, not the least bit angry. "Oh, all right. I found the slayer in China during the Boxer Rebellion in nineteen hundred. Angelus was with us again, acting bloody strange, real quiet-like, you know? But, like I said, we had no idea why. Anyway, I cornered the Slayer near a temple. Fires were raging all around us, people were screaming and running for their lives." He paused, drawing in a deep breath in remembrance. "It was-- when we fought, it was just... perfect. All blood and swords, and fists and fangs. The others were off somewhere, feeding or torturing, I couldn't have cared less. Had me a slayer." He ran his thumb over his scarred eyebrow. "She gave me this. She was pretty handy with a sword, but I was better." When he glanced over at Willow, he found her staring at him intently, completely engrossed in his story-telling. "Slayer's blood's a heady experience," he said softly. "Get a taste of slayer, get a taste of heaven. Supposed to be an aphrodisiac. Don't know if it's the blood that does it or the thrill and excitement of killing your mortal enemy, but I needed another taste. Took over seventy years. Your turn."
"Um, how-- how'd you kill her? I mean, with her sword, a stake? Break her neck?" Her voice was shaking, and Spike could tell she wasn't as okay with this as she was pretending to be.
"Bit her. Drained her. Go." He was giving her an out. Giving her something else to think about, because she looked about ready to cry.
Willow looked away from Spike, knowing that if she didn't, she would either break down crying, or throw up.
"Me. Right. Um, where was I?" she asked, grateful for the respite.
"You and Xander were the Master's favorites," he reminded her.
"Right. Again, I'm getting ahead of myself. See we didn't even know about this world until months later. Cordy was sent to this alternate universe and killed. Giles saved the day and Anyanka was defeated. We only found out about it later because Anya asked me to do a spell with her to find her necklace, a necklace that held all her power. She told me it was an heirloom." Willow laughed harshly. "Naive little Willow comes through again. We did the spell and instead of her necklace coming through, I was pulled through... or rather, Vamp Willow was.
"Anya did all this and you lot still like her? Xander's dating her?" He shook his head, probably wondering why they would accept Anya but not him.
"I don't like her, I tolerate her. And Xander can date whoever he wants to. She's completely human now, so she can't hurt us or anything."
"Yeah, right," he muttered, shaking his head. "Keep going." He waved his hand angrily.
"So vamp Willow came through the portal into our world, and boy, I can tell you, she caused quite a bit of trouble. She beat up Percy." At his blank look, she explained. "He was an athlete that Principal Snyder insisted I 'help'. Which Percy took to mean I do his homework while he goes out and parties. Well, Alterna me showed him. Threw him across a pool table."
Spike chuckled at the unrestrained glee on her face. "Go, Red."
"Xander saw her and freaked out, you know, 'cause of the Percy-throwing, and the clothes. She was sort of fond of the leather look. Leather corset, leather pants, and-- and boots." Seeing his narrowed eyes fastened on her, Willow bit her lip and carefully avoided looking at him again, knowing he was probably trying to picture her in leather. She wasn't like that, her vampire counterpart was, not her. "Um, anyway, she and Xander were together in their world, and she remembered him being killed, and was quite happy to see him alive again. Only, he was a little more alive than she liked. Also, she, um, s-- seemed to have this liking for me... in an icky licking kind of way. Her hands were constantly in places they shouldn't be... naughty places."
Spike chuckled deeply, no trace of what he was thinking showing on his face. In fact, his face was kind of blank, except for the amused part. "Leather and naughty touching plus licking. Sounds like a great date. What did this paragon of non-virtue do, besides beat up people who were mean to you?"
Willow rolled her eyes and sat back against the headboard, pulling her legs underneath her. Her skirts tangled around her legs, and it took her a good minute to untangle them. With a frustrated sigh, she leaned her head back against the wall. "Took over the Bronze, and, um, set herself up as leader of the local vamps."
Spike was looking at her with new respect, and she had to fight to keep the grin off her face. Wouldn't do to show how much his respect meant to her. Not that it did mean anything to her. Right.
"We found out about the plan to munch on the local teens and I got to play vampire for a while, complete with leather corset. The vamps with her, of course figured out I wasn't a vampire, and the plan fell apart, but it turned out okay. Buffy wanted to stake her, but... I don't know, I felt kinda sorry for her. She was alone in a strange world, everything she knew was taken from her, I just--" A pillow smacked her in the chest and she glared at the vampire responsible before putting the pillow behind her back.
"Leave it to you to feel sorry for a vampire." Spike stood up, stretching. The other pillow she'd thrown at him joined the first on the bed and he followed it, getting comfortable.
She shrugged. "Only a Me vampire. You don't see me taking pity on you, do you?"
"And you bloody well better not," he tossed back, "I don't need your pity, or your sympathy."
Willow sighed, frustrated. They seemed to always be at each other's throats all the time. It was getting exhausting. As usual, she would just pretend he hadn't sniped at her. "You want to hear this or not? I haven't even gotten to Puppy yet." She grinned at him, delighting in his-- but, hey, he wasn't confused. He wasn't even paying attention.
"Sure," he said with a yawn, "whatever." He leaned back, closing his eyes.
She glared at him, resisting the urge to smack him on the arm. "I asked Buffy and Giles if I could talk to her, you know, alone, and they agreed, albeit reluctantly." Willow glared at him some more. He definitely wasn't paying attention anymore. At least, she didn't think he was. She leaned down next to his ear, and whispered, "She told me that... in her world, they have people in chains, and you can ride 'em like ponies."
Spike's eyes snapped open as her warm breath fanned across his cheek. Her words registered a few seconds later, and he turned his head toward her. She was grinning like a fool, so proud of herself for getting a reaction out of him. "Where's the fun in that? No hunting? No prey? Might as well brown bag it like the poof."
"Angel," she said with a small smile. "He was there too, in her world. Had a soul..." she trailed off, leaving him hanging.
He rolled his eyes at her dramatics. "And?" he drawled.
"And she kept him chained up in a cage in the basement. He was 'Puppy'. She used him for... uh, you know." Oh-so brave there, Willow, she silently admonished herself. Used him for 'you know'? What was she? Ten? "Sex," she proclaimed, unnecessarily. "She used him for sex."
Spike started laughing, and couldn't seem to stop. "You dominated Angelus? Oh, that is priceless," he gasped out. "Does he know?"
Amused by Spike's reaction, Willow simply shook her head.
"Looks like a trip to L.A. is in order once we get back," he chuckled.
Willow nodded eagerly. "Or..." she said excitedly, "or we could *not* tell him, huh?"
Spike patted her cheek softly as if to say, 'Nice try, kid'. "Not a chance, pet." He sighed heavily, a grin still on his lips. "I'm gonna go eat. Stay here," he warned her, getting up and throwing on his duster.
"But, things'll be weird between us if you tell him," she grumbled. "He'll probably think I'm skanky or something."
Spike paused in the doorway. "Skanky, Red? Not likely. Pure, innocent, untainted, maybe. But not skanky." And with that, he left the room, shutting the door behind him.
PART 4
Spike once again woke up just after sunset, with Willow once again wrapped around him. He extricated himself from her arms and legs, and settled her beside him before sitting up. His cigarettes were on the night stand beside him, ready to slide off the broken surface at the least provocation, he ignored them and moved to the window. The moon was just starting to rise over the buildings, it's yellowed surface casting a false color on everything in its path.
Darla was out there somewhere. So was Liam. He wasn't exactly sure on the time, but he knew it would happen close to dawn. Something inside him wanted to be there to see it happen, but he was determined to resist. He and Willow may have already changed time just by being there, not to mention having run into both of them on separate occasions. He wasn't about to risk it again.
Willow stirred in the bed, drawing his attention. She lay curled up on her side, facing away from him, her forehead furrowed. She seemed to be having another nightmare, though not because of him this time. As he turned back to the window, a flash of blue in the wardrobe caught his eye. He went over and opened the door. Two period style gowns hung inside, one blue, one brown. Figures, he thought. Even now, when women's styles were rather flashy and daring, Willow chose to be mousy. Though the blue one wasn't as bad as all that. Still, he imagined it was very properly cut, or had a heavy shawl to go over it.
His own clothes, he assumed, were in the dresser. He quietly opened a few drawers, finding two pairs of breeches, two waistcoats, and two ruffled shirts. He quickly dressed in the white breeches, one of the ruffled shirts and the blue brocade waistcoat. He snarled at the stockings he was forced to wear underneath the breeches. The black buckle shoes were even worse. At the first opportunity, he was going to find himself a nice pair of Hessians.
Debating on whether or not to go out hunting, he lit a cigarette. If he went now, he'd reduce the risk of running into Angel and Darla later. Liam would be busy getting drunk, and Darla was most likely out feeding. Feeling anxious, he left the room, heading out into the darkened streets. Having his biting ability back was rather like falling off the wagon. He wanted to feed as often and as much as he could. He wanted to overindulge, and he had been.
Besides, they needed more money.
His wanderings brought him to a house on the outskirts of town. It was a quaint little cottage with--he concentrated-- four people inside. Two adults and two children. He was starving for both blood and sport, and hungry for a thrill and some excitement. He started up the walk when he heard someone behind him. He spun around, and came face to face with Angelus.
Spike stepped back, keeping to the shadows. This wasn't Angelus, it was Liam. The human sized up the vampire with a glare.
"I knew I'd run into you sooner or later," Liam said angrily. "I think this belongs to you." He swung a fist at Spike, which was easily dodged by the vampire. Liam tried again with his other fist, and then a leg when that one missed its mark as well.
After his initial surprise, Spike avoided Liam's punches, and grabbed his leg as he kicked it out. Spike yanked up on the leg, throwing Liam off balance. Liam tumbled to the ground, landing hard. "What's your bloody problem?" Spike snarled, still in the shadows.
Liam jumped up, angrier than before. "You were in the alley last night with your whore, havin' a grand ole time laughin' it up and kickin' me in the ribs." His soft Irish brogue grew more pronounced with each word. "I've been waitin' for you, so I could repay you in kind."
"Never gonna happen," Spike told him. "And she's not my whore, she's my wife." He hoped he sounded angry enough. Probably did, because he was angry. The bastard had no right to call Willow his whore. If he needed a whore, she'd be a hell of a lot more... well, frankly, she wouldn't be Willow. "Don't you have some drinking to do, Angel?" Spike's jaw tightened when he realized what he'd said. He groaned silently at the fury in Liam's eyes. This time when the younger man swung, Spike let the blow land.
"The name's Liam, and you'd do well to remember it, you white-haired bastard." He surreptitiously rubbed his sore hand and glared at spike.
Spike had to bite his cheek to keep from laughing. Angelus had always been brutal, cruel, and mean. As a human, he was just... amusing. Not the least bit threatening. Sure, he'd seen Spike's face somewhat, and had definitely gotten a gander at his bleached hair, but Spike figured that by the time they ran into each other again a hundred and thirty years in the future, Angelus would have forgotten their current encounter.
Willow snuck a look at Spike. He looked extremely handsome in the clothes she'd bought earlier that day, but she so wasn't used to seeing him in anything other than his usual black jeans, black T-Shirt, red button down shirt and leather duster. When she'd gone to the shop that afternoon, she'd had strict instructions from Spike to get him full breeches, not the half breeches that were in fashion now. She hadn't known the first thing about choosing clothes, so she'd been happy to have somewhere to start. It was all rather confusing.
She'd gotten two outfits for the both of them, having been extremely lucky in finding someone else's leftovers. They'd been made for someone who had never picked them up. So Willow bought them. One gown was a plain tan with half sleeves that ended in white lace. The collar was a little lower than she was used to, but it wasn't anywhere near as bad as the leather bustier her vamp double had worn.
The modiste had tried to lace Willow into a corset, but Willow wouldn't let the woman near her with one of those torture devices. She knew the damage they could do and she wasn't about to put herself in one. The dress fit her perfectly without the corset, and would hang off of her if she wore a corset, so she refused the nice modiste. The other dress was similar in design, the only real difference being the color. It was sky blue, with tiny white pearls lining the bodice. She rather liked the blue one. She could get used to dressing like this, especially if they were going to be here as long as Spike intended.
Spike himself had on white breeches, a blue brocade waistcoat with a white ruffled shirt underneath, and Willow had never seen him look more gorgeous. The other outfit consisted of tan breeches, a white ruffled shirt, and a black waistcoat. His clothes and her gowns obviously had been made to match, and she secretly thought they looked pretty cool together.
She'd dressed in the blue gown as soon as she woke up from her nap. She was slightly disappointed that Spike hadn't even noticed her change in clothes, but she knew why. Angelus was to be made tonight.
Spike was anxious, and on edge. He'd been pacing for over an hour now, and smoking like a chimney. She got up from the chair, her skirts swishing around her ankles, and went to the open window, breathing in the smokeless night air.
"Why don't you go already?" she wondered aloud.
"Go where?" he asked distractedly.
"To watch. Angelus is being made tonight. How many vampires get to witness their own creation, in a way?" She turned from the window, watching him. He stopped pacing and flopped in the chair.
"It's not for a few hours yet. And I haven't decided whether I want to go or not," he conceded. "I don't actually fancy seeing the poof, but it could be interesting."
"Sure you do," she told him matter-of-factly. "Fancy seeing the poof-- um, Angel, I mean. This is the Angelus you knew and loved, not the one from Sunnydale. He's your sire, your lover, your--"
Spike shot out of his chair so fast Willow barely saw him move. He stalked over to her and grabbed her by the arms. "You finish that sentence, Red, and I'm going to have to politely rip your throat out, and ruin your pretty new dress. Where the bloody hell did you get the idea that we were ever lovers? Hello! Does a century with Dru ring any bells?"
Willow swallowed nervously, not even trying to pull out of his grasp. She'd been right, the chip was inactive, because his grip was so tight she knew she'd have bruises in a little while... unless they disappeared before they showed up. She wondered how that worked. He was glaring at her with such anger that she figured he'd snap and kill her if she made any sudden moves, so she stayed where she was and tried to calm her racing heart.
"Um, I-- I don't know. I just assumed, we all... assumed, because you're demons, and um..." she trailed off, knowing she was just making it worse. His hands tightened on her arms for a second before he pushed her away.
"You and that damn gang of misfits all think that me and the poof..." he shuddered, scowling at her. "That's just... incredibly disgusting. I mean, not that it's bad if you're into that sort of thing. Wait a second, I'm a vampire, I don't have to be politically correct, I stand by my first statement." He sat back down in the chair. "And Dru's my sire, not poof-boy."
"Dru?" she asked, startled. "But I thought-- Giles said that Angel was you sire, and... what about what you told Angel on parent-teacher night? That Angel was your sire, your Yoda." He raised a brow at her. "Oh, um, Xander told me. He was the one Angel decided to use as bait."
Spike laughed, remembering that night. It was the first time he'd seen Angelus in nearly a hundred years, and he'd been quite surprised. "I remember, the moron thought he was about to die, and all he could do was say, 'I knew it was all an act' to Angel. The boy's got no priorities."
Willow ignored his jibes at Xander. "So Dru's really your sire? Not Angel?" She thought about this, and realized that they knew next to nothing about Spike, a.k.a. William the Bloody. "So that means you're not as old as we thought you were." She looked at him accusingly. "How old *are* you?"
"Not as old as you think I am," he chuckled. "Why?"
"Because I'm curious." He gave her a dubious look. "Okay, you tell me some of your background and I'll regale you with stories of Sunnydale."
He looked less than impressed with her offer. "Why would I care what happened in Sunny D? No deal."
She thought for a second. "How about I tell you about... um..." she couldn't think of anything at first, but then she remembered, "Oh, ooo! The other Willow."
He tossed her a skeptical look, not at all ready to believe her. "Other Willow? Is this a joke? What, like you've got an evil twin out there somewhere?"
"Yep. So? Deal, or no deal?" He nodded after a minute and she grinned. "Okay. You first." She sat down on the bed and rested her back against the headboard.
Spike lit a cigarette, one of his last, and settled back in the chair. "How I Was Sired, by Spike. London, 1880. I ran into Dru, and she made me. There you go. Your turn."
Willow grinned and shook her head. "I don't think so. I'm gonna need a few more details than that. Why did she make you? Where were you when it happened? What was your family like? Did you have a family?"
"Of course I had a family, Witch. Wasn't an orphan if that's what you're thinking. Had a mother, a father, the whole package."
"Oh. Darn. I mean, not darn that you had parents, but darn because I lost a bet."
"You had a bet going on me?" That was laughable, little witch woman had running bets. He didn't think she had it in her.
"Yep. Me and Tara. She said you had a family, I said you were an orphan."
Tara again. Damn, could he not get away from the damn creep? Spike scowled at her. "I'd appreciate it if you and Witch number two didn't make a habit out of discussing me."
She nodded agreeably. "Okay. Sorry."
"Anyhow, I was at a society party, got bored, went out for some fresh air and ran into Dru, Angelus, and Darla. Dru followed me, asked if I wanted to join her. I said yes. She made me, end of story."
"Okay, fine. An alternate universe me was made a vampire, she came to our world, we sent her back." She grinned at him. "You give me more, I'll give you more."
He grinned, enjoying the game. It took his mind off of Darla and Angel, and the events that were going to take place in a few hours. "Okay. Let's see. I got the railroad Spike idea from an aristocrat at the party. Said he'd rather have a railroad Spike driven through his skull than listen to my-- uh, someone's poetry. Or something. So I obliged him." He looked away, not sure why the hell he was telling her this. Luckily she hadn't caught his slip-up. The last thing he needed was for Willow to know--and then run and tell the gang--that he'd been a bloody awful poet.
"My turn," she muttered, looking up at the ceiling in thought. "Um. All right. See, Xander and I had this thing. Uh, for each other. But, I was dating Oz, and Xander was dating Cordelia."
Spike rolled his eyes. "You and the moron? That's just sick, Red."
Willow tossed one of the pillows at him. "You wanna hear this or not?"
Spike caught the pillow inches from his face, and set it on his lap. "Okay, okay, just get on with it. And preferably leave out the Xander bits."
"Hey. No comments from the peanut gallery. I have to mention the Xander bits, they're part of the story, duh. Now, where was I?" she asked, pretending to think on it. Seeing his impatient look, she nodded with a grin. "Um, oh, right. Xander and I were trying to keep away from each other. See, I'd always had a thing for him. Pretty much since forever."
Spike made a show of rolling his eyes and sticking his finger down his throat, until she finally got the hint and skipped over the nauseating parts.
"Anyway, I decided to do a de-lusting spell one night, because things were just getting worse, and neither of us wanted to hurt Oz and Cordelia."
"Thank God there wasn't any shagging. Don't think I could've handled that." She glared at him, and he waved his hand imperiously at her. "Continue."
Another pillow flew across the room at him. He put it behind his head and relaxed.
She went on, watching him pointedly. "So, just as I was about to do the spell, a vampire broke into the room and knocked Xander out."
Spike's eyes narrowed. Something about what she'd said sounded familiar, but he wasn't sure why.
"Yup, just knocked him right out, and dragged us with him to this burnt out old factory." She was near grinning now, watching him for any reaction, and he still wasn't sure why. When he remained quiet, she went on. "He was drunk. Turns out his girlfriend had left him, and he wanted me to do a--"
Spike started laughing. "Love spell to get her back. I remember, but what's that got to do with a vamp you?"
"Well," she said slyly, "I had to show you how it was all your fault."
"My fault?" he snorted. "Not likely."
She sat forward eagerly, obviously dying to tell the rest of her story. "Oh, but it is. 'Kay, see, you kidnapped me and Xander. Ever wonder what happened after you left us there? How we were found?"
He shrugged. "I told the slayer and her puppy where you were."
Her eyes widened, and she laughed delightedly. "Puppy? That's funny, 'cause... well, I'll get to that in a minute. Buffy and Angel didn't find us. Oz and Cordy did. Oz followed my scent, and they rushed to our rescue, only to find us making out on the bed."
"Didn't think you had it in you, Red. Cheating on dogboy?" He made a disgusted face. "I'll refrain from grossing out on *who* you cheated with."
"Yeah," she said, looking sad, and regretful, completely ignoring his last comment. "Neither did I. Anyway, Cordy freaked out and ran, fell through the stairs and landed on a rebar. She never forgave us. Oz did... eventually."
Spike sat back with a yawn. "Still waiting for the part where it's my fault."
"I'm getting there, hold your horses. So, Cordy gets out of the hospital, and her first day back at school she meets this girl who tries to get Cordy to take vengeance on Xander. She does... only, she somehow blames everything on Buffy."
Spike furrowed his brow. "How the hell did she come up with that?"
Willow rolled her eyes. "Please, you do it all the time. You blame everything on Buffy. Dru leaving you, the chip, heck, you probably even blame her for us being here right now. It's a nice scapegoat. She's the slayer, therefore, she's to blame for everything that goes wrong."
Spike had to admit she was right. He did tend to blame things on Buffy. But it was fun, besides, he couldn't admit to being wrong, it just wasn't in his nature. "Okay, so she blamed the slayer, and then what?"
"She wished that Buffy had never come to Sunnydale. Anya granted her wish."
"Anya? Demon girl?" He grinned, rubbing his hands together. "All right, now we're talking. So what happened? The Master must have risen. Wonder if I was there to kill the Anointed One, or if someone else did it."
"I don't know about the Anointed One, but, yeah, the Master did rise. In fact, Xander and I were his favorites. Your turn."
"What? Oh, no. No, no, no, no. You finish yours first." He sounded like a petulant child, but he didn't care. He was rather anxious to hear about Willow as a vampire. He wondered what she was like. Was she still shy and sweet, or did the demon take complete control of her and erase all the 'Willowness' from her personality?
"Tit for tat, Spike. Ya gotta give a little to get a little." It was beginning to get chilly, so she went to the window and shut it, then leaned against the wooden shutters, wrapping her arms around herself.
Spike watched her, admiring the picture she made. She was beautiful, always had been, but in her blue gown, she was breathtaking. He wasn't about to let her know that however, the last thing he needed was an infatuated teenager hanging all over him.
"Well?" she prodded.
"Where'd I leave off?" he asked her.
She crossed her arms over her chest. "Basically, Dru made you and some lord or something gave you the idea for railroad spikes. Details, vague-boy, gimme details."
He chuckled at the impatience in her voice and on her face. She looked about ready to pounce on him to beat the information out of him. He cleared his throat, purposely taking his time. "Let's see. Dru made me, covered that. Got the Spike idea from Lord Smithee, the bastard. Ah, here we go." In his best Bela Lugosi accent, he said, "I tried to be the best creature of the night that I possibly could."
She chuckled and rolled her eyes at him. "Oh, brother."
"Family always came first with me," he continued in his normal voice. "So, I made them a priority."
Her laughter stopped and she went sort of pale, looking rather nauseous all of a sudden.
"Oh, no, pet. Don't you go getting sick now, you wanted details, I'm giving you details. Killed my mother first. She was always rather smothering. Didn't know a boy's gotta go off on his own sometime. My father... well, he was a great guy, so I let him live. Funny thing was, I didn't realize what a great bloke he was while I was alive. Mum's fault I guess."
Willow sat down on the bed, still pale, but looking considerably better. "Those kinds of details I can handle. I thought you were going to get all gory."
"Nah. For some reason humans tend to frown down on that." He laughed at the sarcastic look on her face. "Need more?"
"Yes, please," she answered, sounding all prim and proper, sitting there with her hands in her lap.
"So the four of us cut a bloody swath through blah, blah, blah. You know, I don't think Angelus and I ever liked each other much. He taught me everything I needed to know, but we just clashed way too much. He didn't like the way I did things, I didn't like the way he did things. He was low key, I was--"
"Cocky? Arrogant?" Willow asked innocently. There was a twinkle in her eyes and he had to laugh.
"Yeah. Pretty much. Especially after I found out about the Slayer. Wanted to find me one and kill her."
Willow nodded. "You killed two of them, right?"
"Yeah. Took twenty bleedin' years. Felt like an eternity. The four of us had split up for a bit, but we met up again in China. Hadn't seen Angelus for over a year. Didn't know it at the time, but it was because he was souled. Sure, he was acting all weird and stuff, but we had no idea. Well, me and Dru didn't. Darla knew."
Willow looked at him oddly. "Neither you or Drusilla knew Angel had his soul? Isn't she, like, psychic or something?"
"Not psychic exactly. She has visions, but half the crap she babbles about is just that, crap." He glanced at her when he heard her skirts rustling and was surprised to see her sitting forward, staring at him with a sappy look on her face. "What?" he demanded.
"You. You get this... this look on your face whenever you talk about Drusilla. It's sweet. You still love her. Which is weird, since, vampires aren't supposed to love, but you do."
She was right, he did still love Dru, probably always would. "We can love. In fact, I'd say we love better than humans do. Certainly longer than humans do. Your turn."
"Wait, the slayer. Finish that, then I'll go." She pouted and batted her eyelashes shamelessly.
He sighed explosively, not the least bit angry. "Oh, all right. I found the slayer in China during the Boxer Rebellion in nineteen hundred. Angelus was with us again, acting bloody strange, real quiet-like, you know? But, like I said, we had no idea why. Anyway, I cornered the Slayer near a temple. Fires were raging all around us, people were screaming and running for their lives." He paused, drawing in a deep breath in remembrance. "It was-- when we fought, it was just... perfect. All blood and swords, and fists and fangs. The others were off somewhere, feeding or torturing, I couldn't have cared less. Had me a slayer." He ran his thumb over his scarred eyebrow. "She gave me this. She was pretty handy with a sword, but I was better." When he glanced over at Willow, he found her staring at him intently, completely engrossed in his story-telling. "Slayer's blood's a heady experience," he said softly. "Get a taste of slayer, get a taste of heaven. Supposed to be an aphrodisiac. Don't know if it's the blood that does it or the thrill and excitement of killing your mortal enemy, but I needed another taste. Took over seventy years. Your turn."
"Um, how-- how'd you kill her? I mean, with her sword, a stake? Break her neck?" Her voice was shaking, and Spike could tell she wasn't as okay with this as she was pretending to be.
"Bit her. Drained her. Go." He was giving her an out. Giving her something else to think about, because she looked about ready to cry.
Willow looked away from Spike, knowing that if she didn't, she would either break down crying, or throw up.
"Me. Right. Um, where was I?" she asked, grateful for the respite.
"You and Xander were the Master's favorites," he reminded her.
"Right. Again, I'm getting ahead of myself. See we didn't even know about this world until months later. Cordy was sent to this alternate universe and killed. Giles saved the day and Anyanka was defeated. We only found out about it later because Anya asked me to do a spell with her to find her necklace, a necklace that held all her power. She told me it was an heirloom." Willow laughed harshly. "Naive little Willow comes through again. We did the spell and instead of her necklace coming through, I was pulled through... or rather, Vamp Willow was.
"Anya did all this and you lot still like her? Xander's dating her?" He shook his head, probably wondering why they would accept Anya but not him.
"I don't like her, I tolerate her. And Xander can date whoever he wants to. She's completely human now, so she can't hurt us or anything."
"Yeah, right," he muttered, shaking his head. "Keep going." He waved his hand angrily.
"So vamp Willow came through the portal into our world, and boy, I can tell you, she caused quite a bit of trouble. She beat up Percy." At his blank look, she explained. "He was an athlete that Principal Snyder insisted I 'help'. Which Percy took to mean I do his homework while he goes out and parties. Well, Alterna me showed him. Threw him across a pool table."
Spike chuckled at the unrestrained glee on her face. "Go, Red."
"Xander saw her and freaked out, you know, 'cause of the Percy-throwing, and the clothes. She was sort of fond of the leather look. Leather corset, leather pants, and-- and boots." Seeing his narrowed eyes fastened on her, Willow bit her lip and carefully avoided looking at him again, knowing he was probably trying to picture her in leather. She wasn't like that, her vampire counterpart was, not her. "Um, anyway, she and Xander were together in their world, and she remembered him being killed, and was quite happy to see him alive again. Only, he was a little more alive than she liked. Also, she, um, s-- seemed to have this liking for me... in an icky licking kind of way. Her hands were constantly in places they shouldn't be... naughty places."
Spike chuckled deeply, no trace of what he was thinking showing on his face. In fact, his face was kind of blank, except for the amused part. "Leather and naughty touching plus licking. Sounds like a great date. What did this paragon of non-virtue do, besides beat up people who were mean to you?"
Willow rolled her eyes and sat back against the headboard, pulling her legs underneath her. Her skirts tangled around her legs, and it took her a good minute to untangle them. With a frustrated sigh, she leaned her head back against the wall. "Took over the Bronze, and, um, set herself up as leader of the local vamps."
Spike was looking at her with new respect, and she had to fight to keep the grin off her face. Wouldn't do to show how much his respect meant to her. Not that it did mean anything to her. Right.
"We found out about the plan to munch on the local teens and I got to play vampire for a while, complete with leather corset. The vamps with her, of course figured out I wasn't a vampire, and the plan fell apart, but it turned out okay. Buffy wanted to stake her, but... I don't know, I felt kinda sorry for her. She was alone in a strange world, everything she knew was taken from her, I just--" A pillow smacked her in the chest and she glared at the vampire responsible before putting the pillow behind her back.
"Leave it to you to feel sorry for a vampire." Spike stood up, stretching. The other pillow she'd thrown at him joined the first on the bed and he followed it, getting comfortable.
She shrugged. "Only a Me vampire. You don't see me taking pity on you, do you?"
"And you bloody well better not," he tossed back, "I don't need your pity, or your sympathy."
Willow sighed, frustrated. They seemed to always be at each other's throats all the time. It was getting exhausting. As usual, she would just pretend he hadn't sniped at her. "You want to hear this or not? I haven't even gotten to Puppy yet." She grinned at him, delighting in his-- but, hey, he wasn't confused. He wasn't even paying attention.
"Sure," he said with a yawn, "whatever." He leaned back, closing his eyes.
She glared at him, resisting the urge to smack him on the arm. "I asked Buffy and Giles if I could talk to her, you know, alone, and they agreed, albeit reluctantly." Willow glared at him some more. He definitely wasn't paying attention anymore. At least, she didn't think he was. She leaned down next to his ear, and whispered, "She told me that... in her world, they have people in chains, and you can ride 'em like ponies."
Spike's eyes snapped open as her warm breath fanned across his cheek. Her words registered a few seconds later, and he turned his head toward her. She was grinning like a fool, so proud of herself for getting a reaction out of him. "Where's the fun in that? No hunting? No prey? Might as well brown bag it like the poof."
"Angel," she said with a small smile. "He was there too, in her world. Had a soul..." she trailed off, leaving him hanging.
He rolled his eyes at her dramatics. "And?" he drawled.
"And she kept him chained up in a cage in the basement. He was 'Puppy'. She used him for... uh, you know." Oh-so brave there, Willow, she silently admonished herself. Used him for 'you know'? What was she? Ten? "Sex," she proclaimed, unnecessarily. "She used him for sex."
Spike started laughing, and couldn't seem to stop. "You dominated Angelus? Oh, that is priceless," he gasped out. "Does he know?"
Amused by Spike's reaction, Willow simply shook her head.
"Looks like a trip to L.A. is in order once we get back," he chuckled.
Willow nodded eagerly. "Or..." she said excitedly, "or we could *not* tell him, huh?"
Spike patted her cheek softly as if to say, 'Nice try, kid'. "Not a chance, pet." He sighed heavily, a grin still on his lips. "I'm gonna go eat. Stay here," he warned her, getting up and throwing on his duster.
"But, things'll be weird between us if you tell him," she grumbled. "He'll probably think I'm skanky or something."
Spike paused in the doorway. "Skanky, Red? Not likely. Pure, innocent, untainted, maybe. But not skanky." And with that, he left the room, shutting the door behind him.