Disclaimer: I own nothing here except the plot. The characters and all things Buffy the Vampire Slayer belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Twentieth Century, the Pope, and whoever else wants to claim them and actually receives royalties from them. That's not me, so... there ya go.
Pairing: W/S of course. That's all I write.
Rating: R
Summary: Spike uses Willow to go back in time to avoid being implanted by the Initiative... has even one of Spike's plans ever gone right? They end up a little further back in time than he intended.
Dedicated: To my beta, Claudia! She rules. Helped me work through a ton of stuff, caught things I'd read a hundred times and never noticed, and did the best thing of all, the easiest thing in the world to get a writer to write... she begged for more.
PART 11
Spike woke up to Willow untangling herself from around him. Her arm slid out from under his back, her leg from his. Without opening his eyes, he asked her where she was going.
"Downstairs," she whispered, "otherwise Sam's going to come up here."
"So what if she does?" He knew he sounded less than nice, but at the moment, he was feeling less than nice. He liked having Willow in bed with him again, and he didn't want her to leave.
"I thought maybe you'd want some more sleep," she said slowly. "Maybe be a little more rested when you meet them, and not be assailed by tons of questions and explanations. But, if you'd rather meet them now, I can--"
He rolled onto his side, away from her. She got the idea and left quietly. Normally he wouldn't mind being up this early, but lately, ever since-- he sighed explosively, not liking the direction his thoughts were taking. Grabbing Willow's pillow from behind him, he smashed it on his head. How he fell asleep with her scent wafting over him, he had no idea.
A few hours later, he woke up again, this time to someone sitting next to him. It was Willow again. Her smell, her heartbeat. Her body laying next to his. Just like old times. Once again, she stayed as far away from him as she could get. He wanted her to curl up against him like she used to do. He missed having her beside him.
As if she'd heard his thoughts, she sighed and whispered, "I sort of missed you, vampire."
Spike jerked awake as the noises he'd been hearing for a few seconds penetrated his mind, forcing him into consciousness. Two more loud thumps followed the first three. He sat up and crept to the door, listening. A muffled scream reached his ears, and he double checked to make sure Willow was still in the room. She was asleep on the bed, practically falling off the opposite side he'd been on, oblivious to anything happening.
He sat on the bed to yank his boots on. "Willow, wake up," he whispered loudly. "Come on, Red, we've got company."
Willow woke up with a yawn. "What's going on?" She sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed.
Boots on, he stood up and started for the door. "Stay here. If I don't come back in a few minutes, or if you get scared, leave." He looked around quickly, and motioned to the window. "Go out there, and don't look back."
Eyes wide, she quickly put on her tennis shoes, then grabbed stakes, holy water, and crosses. A loud crash sounded from downstairs, followed a second later by glass breaking. "What's down there?" she asked quietly. She didn't look scared, like he'd expected her to be, she actually looked angry.
"Vampires," he said dismissively, not about to tell her what specific vampires they were. She'd be sure to stomp down the stairs right behind him, if not in front of him, intending to save her friends, and then Angelus.
Spike wasn't worried about Angelus in the slightest, he could go to hell again for all Spike cared. But he was worried about Drusilla. He hadn't heard her downstairs, so he didn't think she was a vampire yet... she'd be here if she was. This was just the kind of thing she was into. But if she wasn't a vampire yet, then he had to refrain from going down there and killing Angelus... pity.
She looked up from stuffing her pockets full of her slaying paraphernalia. "How many?"
Spike shook his head at her. "Don't even think about it, Willow. You stay here," he told her in no uncertain terms. "Lock the door after me."
She looked about ready to protest, but then finally dropped her arms to her sides and nodded.
Taking one of the stakes from her, he looked her in the eye, made sure she saw how serious he was, and left her room, shutting the door tightly behind him. He waited for her to lock the door, then started cautiously down the hallway.
Willow stopped her pacing, listened closely, then continued on her way. Five minutes had passed since Spike left the room. Five minutes of waiting and listening, hoping for the best for Joe, Sam, and Spike, and knowing that it was pretty likely that everyone down there was dead. Some more so than others. She had to get down there and help them. Help Spike. If he wasn't already dust.
That thought caused her chest to tighten and her breath to catch. Spike couldn't be dead, it just wasn't possible. Refusal to believe in something wasn't usually a problem for Willow, but for some reason... well, she just couldn't believe it. Stopping to listen again, she was startled to hear footsteps in the hall outside her door.
Spike's warning rang through her mind, and she moved to the window, waiting to see what the person was going to do. When she saw the round brass doorknob twist slowly back and forth, she shoved the window open and started to climb through just as the door flew open, slamming against the dresser. The sound of splintering wood rang through the quiet room, echoing for what seemed like forever.
"Hey," a voice yelled.
Willow didn't bother to turn around and look, she climbed over the sash, onto the rooftop. A pair of hands grabbed her roughly by the arms, his fingers digging into the flesh there, and spun her around. She screamed as the vampire grinned at her, showing her his mouthful of sharp yellow fangs. He pushed her backward, and her feet went out from under her. She reached out blindly, as she started to fall, and lucked out by grabbing the window frame. Scrambling away on her hands and knees, she tried to get far enough away to get to her feet and get away, but he was right behind her. He picked her up, carried her back to the window, and shoved her through, back into her room.
She fell forward, landing on her hands and knees, wincing as wood slivers went into all four points of contact.
"That's right, bitch. On your knees," he hissed.
Willow drew in a deep breath as pain and anger swept through her. Being a victim sucked, and she didn't want to be one anymore. Just because this guy was a vampire, and bigger than her by at least a foot, and a demon, and-- well, none of that mattered, right? She had her brain, and her magick, and her... knowledge of the future which probably wouldn't help her, but just might.
"Go to hell," she bit out, hoping to anger him. And sure enough, it worked. Predictable. He came up behind her, grabbed her by the hair, and yanked her up. As soon as he turned her around, she raised her left hand, raked her nails along his neck, and staked him with the stake she'd dropped into her right hand. She was halfway down the stairs by the time the dust settled to the floor.
Slipping down the hallway and stairwell was a breeze compared to working up enough courage to peer through the doorway at the scene before her. And it took her two tries, because she didn't look long enough the first time. Finally, she was able to see a group of vampires in the far left corner of the pub, grouped around something, or someone. She couldn't be sure.
All the tables and chairs were grouped along the right wall, including in front of the door to the outside, which was directly across from her. Not that she'd leave without Spike, Joe and Sam. Leaning back against the wall, she saw something blue to her left. She turned her head, dreading what she would see.
Samantha's favorite color was sky blue, so she had a lot of blue dresses, boots, shoes, and ribbons. Right now, most of the blue was covered in red and brown stains. Joe's hair was covered in blood as well, from where Samantha's neck wound had bled onto the floor and pooled underneath his head, mixing with his own blood which was also pooling under him.
Willow ducked back into the hall and swallowed hard, pressing her hands into her eyes to stop the tears trying to fall. Now wasn't the time, damn it. Not now. Halting the sob in her throat, she peered once more around the corner. The gang of vamps were still there, still doing whatever it was they were doing, and now, her fury getting the better of her, she wanted to know what the hell was going on. Stake in hand, she dropped to the ground and crawled through the doorway, hiding behind the bar.
Ignoring the dead couple a few feet away from her, wasn't easy. Her hand landed in the blood beside Sam's arm, and she slid forward, catching herself just before smacking into the bar. She frantically wiped her bloody hand on her skirt, and took a deep breath, dreading what she was about to do. Standing up, she looked around the room, seeing five vampires in the corner--three men, two women--and Spike. He was unconscious and bloody. Bruised too. And looking pretty bad.
Two other vampires were standing off to the side, watching the spectacle in the corner. The vampires grouped around Spike occasionally kicked or hit him. One of them was feeding off of him, her mouth was attached to his arm. Ew, gross.
She had to stop them. Not only was it wrong, and mean, it was extremely gross and disgusting.
"Angelus." Her voice wasn't loud, but it didn't have to be.
He heard her immediately. His brown eyes fixed on hers, a malevolent grin lifting the corners of his mouth. Every other head in the room turned toward her as one. The vampire feeding off Spike dropped his arm, and stood up with the rest of them. And all the snarling, sneering vampires, their fangs glistening, their eyes glowing, advanced on her. Angelus stopped them with a single look.
Holding her stake up for Angelus to see, Willow tossed it harmlessly to the floor on the other side of the bar. "I won't kill you." Lifting her other hand, which held a satchel filled with useless herbs meant to protect, she added, "But I will hurt you, so I suggest you get out."
"Angelus?" a small voice inquired. "Who is this?" Darla, standing beside Angelus, her hand resting possessively on his arm, looked Willow over, apparently finding her lacking. "This is the one you captured? The one who hurt you?" she giggled. "She is only a human."
Angelus shrugged out from under her touch, his eyes never leaving Willow's. He walked forward a few feet, his boots loud in the ensuing silence. At his movements, the vampires seemed to decide as one that it was time to get back to what they'd been doing.
"Your husband," Angelus said suddenly, a light going on in his eyes. Remembrance was flooding through him from a hundred and seven years ago.
Flicking her eyes to the corner, checking to make sure Spike was still there and not dust, she hoped she hadn't given herself away. Hoped she didn't look as frightened as she felt. Fear was racing through her, her heart was beating a million miles an hour, and through it all, she kept her expression blank. She hoped.
She nodded, trying not to shrink away from the glare in Darla's eyes. If looks could kill... the trick to looking tough, was looking tough. Willow crossed her arms over her chest and glared right back. That'll teach her to-- or not. Darla growled at her and started forward. Angelus' hand shot out and grabbed her arm.
"She's mine," he growled, shoving Darla back. "I owe her."
Willow gulped, and turned toward the vampires holding Spike. "Let him go."
Angelus chuckled ruefully. "Oh, no, I don't think so. See, I also owe him."
Reminding him of the herbs in her hand, she motioned toward the corner. "Let him go, and I won't kill you."
Darla laughed delightedly. "Kill us? My dear," she said condescendingly, "you won't kill us. Not if you want everything to be as it should."
Willow hid the frown that was forming on her brow. How did she know? How could she possibly have guessed? "Will so," she disagreed, starting to lose her cool. There'd been no sound from Spike, no movement from him either. She could hardly even see him anymore.
"The girl told us. The one you found for my boy." She sneered at Willow, her face becoming demonic for a moment. "She says you're a traveler." Darla smiled sweetly. "I say you're a puny human, not worthy of my Angelus."
Willow refused to be drawn into an argument with a jealous vampire. She turned her eyes to her future-friend. "Let him go, Angelus."
"You know, back in Galway, when I generously told you of your 'husband's' infidelity, I couldn't figure out why you were so uncaring." He circled around the bar, stalking toward her. She glanced behind herself, knowing she only had a few feet left before she ran into the wall. When her back finally hit it, he grinned and stepped closer, trailing his finger along the polished wood counter.
"You knew her in Galway?" Darla asked suspiciously, then looked more closely at her. "The loon was right? She really is a traveler?"
Angelus ignored Darla, keeping his attention on Willow. "I realize now that he was feeding, not fu--"
Two of the vampires guarding Spike, suddenly went flying across the room. Another one was reduced to dust. Spike jumped up, backing away from the remaining two, planting his back against the same wall she was against, a chair leg in his hand.
Angelus wasted no time in grabbing Willow when he saw his minions falling to the floor in useless piles of dust. His hand did the usual wrapping around her neck move... must be a vampire thing. Freud would have a field day with them. He slid behind her, holding her still with his other arm, which he wrapped around her stomach. All kinds of icky feelings were washing over her from the contact, but she shoved it away. Later. Later, she would cry for her lost friends, cry for herself, and scream and yell at the situation she'd been forced into, but right now, she needed to keep a level head.
Angelus seemed to be waiting for Spike to notice the position they were in, so she called out to him, whispering around the hand at her throat. "William."
He dusted the last two vampires that were attempting to charge him, and brushed himself off before turning toward them. His jaw tightened, and Willow was pretty sure he was angry at her for not getting away. "Didn't I tell you to run, Red?"
"Red," Angelus repeated. "Is that his pet name for you?" he whispered in her ear, making her cringe. "Is that why you got so angry when I called you that? Well, gosh, isn't that sweet?"
"I tried," Willow told Spike, ignoring Angelus completely. "But the dust pile in my room-- ow."
"Quiet," Angelus barked, squeezing her neck tightly. Darla moved behind them, her hand threading through Willow's hair and pulling her head back, baring it to Angelus' mouth. Thankfully he didn't take advantage of the offer.
"Let her go, Angelus, you've already got one plaything." Spike jumped over the counter and advanced on them. Angelus laughed and walked backwards, dragging Willow with him.
She was starting to feel like a rag doll. Everyone seemed to want to force her to do what they wanted. But this was Angelus, she couldn't simply stake him and walk away, even if she could manage it. Buffy barely had, so she didn't really hold any hope of being able to herself. And she didn't want to. Angel was her friend. Buffy's love. He'd saved their lives on numerous occasions... from Spike a few times too. Truthfully, she shouldn't be anywhere near any of these three vampires.
And yet.
Someone up there seemed to take great pleasure in throwing them together. A nice big jumble of vampires and witches. Well, witch. Singular. And... um, they were discussing her, and she was thinking way too much about things, and not paying enough attention.
"Drusilla not enough for you, mate?" Spike snarled. "Driving her batty not satisfying you?" He vamped out, sneering at Angelus.
"Sp-- William, don't," she whispered, trying to get his attention away from Angelus. His eyes flicked momentarily to hers, but she didn't see a speck of warmth in them. Uh-oh. His entire attention was focused on Angelus, and she feared that maybe he was letting his anger and hatred get the best of him. He was a demon after all, they tended to do stuff like that. A lot.
"Yeah, William," Angelus taunted. "Don't." He laughed at the fury on Spike's face, and licked Willow's neck.
"Ew," she said, not wisely, and automatically tried to shrug him off of her. Obviously, he wasn't about to be displaced that easily. And she was pretty sure she'd angered him, because his arms tightened around her even more. Now would be a good time to get free. The spell she'd done before, when Angelus had her tied to a chair, seemed like a good idea. The Latin words fell easily from her lips, and her head fell back as the power flowed through her.
"Oh, bloody hell," Spike ground out, before jumping over the counter, and ducking down behind it.
Darla, who Willow had all but forgotten about, grabbed her arm just as Willow's eyes slid shut and the magick shot through her. Darla and Angelus both yelled in surprise and pain. Good. She liked that she'd caused them a little bit of the pain they'd caused her. Without opening her eyes, she drew in a deep breath, and stood straighter, working out the kinks in her neck.
She could see Angelus and Darla on the floor behind her, watching her warily, fearfully, and she reveled in it, not stopping to wonder how she could see them when they were behind her, and her eyes were closed. She was too busy thinking that they should fear her. Cower before her. Opening her eyes, she searched for Spike. He was just getting to his feet on the other side of the bar again. Behind her, the other two vampires were climbing to their feet as well, still watching her cautiously. She grinned and turned toward them, fixing them in place with a look.
And then everything went black.
Spike heard Willow speak Latin, and dove over the bar, knowing something bad was about to happen. Just as he made it to safety, Darla and Angelus screamed and went flying backwards, smacking into the wall behind Willow, and slumping to the floor in a heap. His grin of satisfaction didn't last long. In his experience, Willow and magick usually equaled badness. Proposing to the slayer, ending up two hundred and forty-six years in the past, and then five years from when he wanted to end up... these were not good things.
Standing up cautiously, he peered over the counter at Willow and saw her standing perfectly straight and still, like a statue. Angelus and Darla were standing as well, just as Willow turned toward them, opening her eyes. She grinned at them, and then suddenly sagged. Her eyes turned black, and all emotion and life left her in a breath. He knew this look, he'd almost been killed by the last witch to be possessed by this thing. If it was indeed the same thing.
"Leave," she told the couple glaring at her from their spot against the wall.
Spike sighed when he heard the deep, rumbling voice that left Willow's lips. It was the same voice from five years ago all right. The big and mighty Time Stabilizer.
Angelus didn't seem to realize the trouble he was in. He stalked forward, sneering at Willow.
"You don't tell me, Red, I tell you." He stood in front of Willow, daring her to do something.
Spike shook his head with a sigh. Angelus always was a bloody stupid idiot. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."
They both ignored Spike. Willow lifted her hands up, palms out, facing Angelus. "She doesn't wish you to call her that, vampire." Her hands started to glow a dark green color. "Leave," the voice repeated. "This time has already been irrevocably altered. Alter it more and you will cease to exist." She turned her eyes to Darla, who had joined Angelus.
"Come on, Angelus, let's go. I'm not having fun any more," Darla declared, pulling on his arm. Spike sneered at her, she always had been the type to run at the first sign of trouble.
Angelus shook her hand off his arm and straightened up. His eyes stayed fixed on Willow, and he looked about ready to attack her. Spike tensed, preparing to jump across the counter again to protect Willow. She was still his ticket home. He didn't exactly fancy living out the next hundred and forty years here.
Finally, Angelus nodded, trying to act casual and unafraid. "Let's go, Darla. This... place has lost its appeal." He stepped closer to Willow, leaning in to whisper, though he made sure to speak loud enough so everyone present heard him. "Make no mistake, I'll find you again... *Red*."
Spike rolled his eyes, and moved back a few feet, making sure to stay shielded by the counter. Willow's hands didn't glow brighter, or raise up, the light simply shot out from her palms, and struck Angelus in the chest. He went flying backwards for the second time that night, and Darla with him. Furious snarls and growling sounded from the couple, but they decided they'd had enough abuse for one night, and quickly left.
Spike chuckled at their hasty retreat, then circled around the counter to Willow. She sagged again, collapsing to the floor. He caught her before her head could smack on a shelf behind the bar, and lifted her up. He almost dropped her when the heat from her skin penetrated his clothes.
"Christ," he ground out, carrying her upstairs quickly. Setting her on her bed, he stood back, wondering what he was supposed to do now. She was hot as hell, but shivering.
This hadn't happened to Christine. She'd woken up on her own, given him some supplies for a protection spell, and showed him out the door.
What was it humans said? Feed a fever, starve a cold? Feed a cold, starve a fever? She wasn't even conscious, how was he supposed to feed her? And what was he supposed to feed her? He doubted food, or a lack of it, would help her at this point. Maybe a cold bath to bring her temperature down... if he knew where a bathtub was. Not to mention indoor plumbing.
He covered her up, and sat back to wait. After a good twenty minutes, and nothing happened, he went downstairs for a bottle of whiskey to pass the time. Stepping over her dead friends, he grabbed a bottle and headed back upstairs. Willow was tossing and turning, trying to shove the blanket off. Her eyes slid open for a second before closing again. "I'm hot, Mom. No more covers," she moaned.
Spike set the whiskey on the dresser and covered her back up. "You have a fever or something. What am I supposed to do?" She didn't answer. "Fine," he muttered. "More covers it is." He went through her dresser drawers and closet, tossing every dress he could find on top of her. His own black T-Shirt went as well, along with her red jeans. She tried to shove them off, but he held her hands still.
"Mmm, cold. Feels good," she whispered, pressing his hands against her face. Her skin heated his almost immediately, sapping all the coolness from him. She dropped his hands, opening her eyes again. "Oz? Not Oz." She frowned, shivering, and turned onto her side, snuggling into the covers. A second later, she drew in a deep breath. "Spike," she mumbled. "It smells like you again."
He looked down at her, wondering what the hell she was talking about. What smelled like him? Seeing the black cotton garment under her cheek, he realized she was talking about his T-Shirt. "If you say so, pet." Grabbing the bottle of whiskey from the dresser, he uncorked it and took a swig, then poured some of it over the bitemark on his arm. Bloody bitch had taken a good chunk out of him. Who the hell taught her how to fight? he wondered. Generally, vampires didn't bite each other unless they had sex in mind. Or dominance. Considering they were there to kill, he was pretty sure sex hadn't entered into it. And she was a long way off of being dominant over anyone except maybe a month old vampire.
Taking another swig as his arm dripped with whiskey and blood, he shifted slightly to get more comfortable. His right side ached like a bastard. Most of the kicking and blows he'd been given had somehow ended up on that side. Lifting his eyes to Willow's form, he sighed. She was huddled on the bed, looking so small and lost that he couldn't help but feel for her.
Unfortunately, she showed no signs of waking up anytime soon. It was going to be a long night.
Spike dropped his cigarette to the floor, and crushed it under his boot. Standing up with a yawn, he stumbled over to the bed, staring down at Willow with a baleful eye. Kicking off his boots, and taking off his shirt, he climbed into bed beside her. She'd been silent in the four hours since she'd discovered he wasn't dogboy, hadn't moved much either. If he hadn't been able to hear her heartbeat, he'd have wondered if she was still alive.
After he slid under the covers, and got comfortable, settling on one side of the bed, she rolled over and snuggled up against him. Yep. Definitely still alive. And warm, though no longer overly so. A sigh escaped her, and he felt her breath fan across his chest as her hand curled under her cheek. He held himself still, waiting for her to wake up and realize where she was, but it didn't happen. Lifting his arm up cautiously, he wrapped it around her, enjoying the familiar feeling of holding her again after so long.
Just as he was drifting off to sleep, he felt her stiffen. She held her breath for a few seconds, then slowly tried to move away from him. Her heartbeat was taking off as panic settled over her.
"It's just me," he whispered, letting go of her to show her he meant no harm.
Silence greeted him, then a soft, "S-- Spike?"
"Still not Elvis." He was surprised when she didn't move away from him. "You okay now?"
She shook her head frantically, close to tears. "No." She was trying hard not to cry, sniffling every few seconds, and swallowing her sobs. "They're dead," she whispered. "Angelus and Darla killed them."
He wondered for a second who she was talking about before remembering her dead friends downstairs. "I know." He smoothed his hand down her back, feeling the need to comfort her, though it certainly wasn't something he was used to doing. Killing, and maiming, now those things he knew how to do. Comforting anyone except Dru was beyond him. "I'm sorry."
Was it okay to lie to the person you were trying to comfort? Didn't seem right. But what was he supposed to say? 'I know they're dead, but I could care less. So hey, goodnight and sweet dreams.' That probably wouldn't go over too well.
Unable to hold back any longer, she started crying, her whole body shaking with sobs. Tears wet his chest, but he didn't mind too much. She'd been through a lot in the past year, or however long she'd been here. He was used to living in the past. He'd lived through it once. She hadn't. And yet, she'd survived her time here. Now her friends were dead, friends who'd helped her survive.
Her sobs quieted after a few minutes, her tears dried up, and her breathing evened out. "I miss Sunnydale," she whispered. "I want to go home."
Spike had been thinking about that recently, about leaving. Seeing Dru was great, watching her with her family, her friends, seeing her laugh without the insanity... well, it was beyond description, though he wasn't sure why. Knowing her before she became the demon he loved was great. But, she didn't know him, didn't care a thing about him. In fact, the few times he'd approached her, she'd cowered from him. Apparently that psychic thing was in full swing even now, because she was afraid of him.
Why she wasn't afraid of Angelus baffled him no end.
Spike wanted to stick around to make sure things went like they were supposed to, and considering how much they'd screwed with things already, there was no guarantee that Dru would be made at all. The thing speaking through Willow had fueled that fear in Spike, and now he was back to thinking they needed to stick around.
When he didn't answer right away, she sighed heavily, and sniffled. "Never mind." Pushing away from him, she settled on the other side of the bed.
"We can't," he said regretfully. "Not yet. After the whole near-miss in Galway, I think we should stick around to make sure Angelus turns Dru."
She didn't fight him like he'd expected, just sniffled some more, and nodded in resignation. "I know. You're right, we should stay and make sure." She sighed, and continued on in a hesitant voice. "As much as I want to go home right now... I think we need to stick around to make sure you get turned too. We screwed things up so badly that--"
He sat up, startled. "What? Things are mostly still on track, or at least, not that off-track, the only difference is that they know who we are now." Bloody hell. He didn't want to go to eighteen-eighty. Didn't want to see his human counterpart. "There's no need to go there."
She sat up as well, resting against the wall behind them. "But, there is. What if Angelus recognizes you... I mean William? He'd probably kill him on the spot."
Damn it, she was right. Why did his plans always go so wrong? It had seemed like a nice, solid plan. Grab the witch, force her to do the time travel spell, go back a few months, keep him from being captured. Simple plan. Easy.
Stupid.
He should've known. Nothing he did ever went right. At least not since coming to Sunnydale. The blasted slayer was at the root of most of his screw-ups. Bloody bitch. Shoving himself out of Willow's bed, he grabbed his coat and fished out one of the cigarettes he'd rolled a few days ago. He leaned against the dresser as he lit it. "What if I don't want to go to eighteen-eighty?"
Willow was folding the clothes he'd thrown on her hours before. She stopped with a shrug, playing with the belt loop on her jeans. "You didn't give me a choice, so, I'm not giving you a choice," she said with a brave and hopeful look.
He just lifted an eyebrow at her. Like she could force him to do anything. Please.
The hope and bravery melted into worry. "But," she reasoned, looking up at him, "what if you don't get turned?"
He rolled his eyes, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Looking back on some of the things I've done, maybe that wouldn't be a bad thing." Well, yes, actually it would be a bad thing. He happened to like his unlife, thank you very much.
"Wait," she said, sitting up straighter. "You're regretting stuff you've done?" She held her hand against his forehead with a concerned frown. "Are you all right? You feel okay? You're not getting a soul, are you?"
"Yeah, that's what's happening," he said with a chuckle. "Of course I regret things. Like the Halloween Buffy turned into an innocent little frail weakling. I regret not killing her faster. And when I got caught by the Initiative. I regret that. Or the time Dru--"
Willow snorted and pushed him away with a laugh. A second later, her smile faded, and she went back to folding her clothes. "Did-- back in Galway, when you said being bitten doesn't have to hurt, did you mean it?"
"Yeah. Why? You want to test out that theory?" He waggled his eyebrows at her lasciviously.
She shook her head with a shudder, staring down at his T-Shirt. "Do you think Sam and Joe--"
Feeling somewhat responsible for her friends' deaths, what with him being a vampire and their killers being vampires, he sighed heavily, and spoke more harshly than he needed to. "You want me to lie, Willow? You saw Darla bite Angelus. You yourself have been bitten by him, and by others. Did Darla's bite hurt him? Sure looked like it to me. And I can pretty much guarantee that that newest one on your neck was painful."
She went to the window and carefully opened the shutters, making sure not to let the sun hit him. Leaning against the wall below the sash, she folded her arms across her chest. "Every bite I have was painful, Spike. Ten bites, each one painful."
His eyes flickered to her neck, seeing seven bite marks. He knew who owned those... but where were the other three? Joining her by the window, he tossed his cigarette out, dodging the dangerous golden rays of death.
"Where are they?" Anger was coursing through him, and he had to work to keep his face from changing. How dare someone else mark her. She was his. Well... in the sense that she was marked by him--twice--and was traveling with him. They'd slept together for a week. Technically been together for a century. If one didn't count the years they'd been apart, and okay, didn't sound like he had much of a claim on her after all. But neither did anyone else.
Willow shook her head in confusion. "Where are who?"
He sat on the edge of the bed, leaning forward slightly, watching her intently. "The other three bite marks." He'd bet his right arm they'd been done by the bastard that tried to rape her. And that was something he didn't want to think about. He'd already gone through the whole guilt thing for not being there when it happened. And the fury that someone else had touched her. He'd gone through all that five years ago, he didn't need to replay it again now.
No. It wasn't just that he'd touched her. It was that he'd forced her. Touched her when she didn't want to be touched.
Forcing the anger back again, he raised a questioning eyebrow at her. "Well?"
"Why?" she countered. "Does it really matter?" Judging by the nauseous look on her face, she didn't want to discuss it.
Tough. "Yes, it does."
She moved further into the sunlight, looking trapped. "You know what?" She threw the shutters open all the way, and walked quickly out of the room, staying out of reach in the sunlight. "I don't think it's any of your business." Stopping at the door, she turned back around and was surprised to find him right beside her. She eeped. Literally.
Spike had to laugh. Willow was one of a kind. He doubted there was another one of her in the world. "Just answer the question."
"No," she said adamantly. "You don't own me. I don't have to do what you say. Got it?" She backed away from him, going into the hall.
He followed her, shutting the door quickly behind him to block the sun from killing him. Didn't want to ruin his already sucky day, now did he? "Actually, you do kind of belong to me. And, as for not having to do what I say? You do. See... I no longer have that pesky implant to worry about."
She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned to face him. "Fine, Spike. Bite me, kill me... go ahead."
He grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her away from him. She slid across the floor, slamming her head into the wall, and dropped to the floor unconscious. The two vampires that'd been sneaking up behind her, snarled at their lost prey. Spike vamped out, and stepped in front of her, facing down her dead friends.
"Should've gotten out while it was dark," he told them. Yep, he definitely remembered these two from his trip here five years ago. They were a little older, a lot deader, and considerably more bloody, but it was them.
They both halted their progress when they saw his face. "Why are you protecting her?" Joe asked, his Irish accent thick, made thicker by a mouthful of fangs.
Samantha, her blonde hair ratted and bloody, stepped forward with more confidence than her husband. "The girl is ours. We want her."
"Wrong," he snarled. "She's mine. Remember that husband she was waiting for?" They nodded, looking at each other fearfully. "I'm him."
"Oh," they said together. And then they ran. Not out the front door, like Angelus and Darla had done, but toward their bedroom. He heard a door slam, and then another. Must be another way out. Either that, or they'd just trapped themselves.
He ran after them with a quick glance over his shoulder at Willow, and found himself in an empty bedroom. There was a lot of furniture--a large bed, dresser, table and chairs, wardrobe--but nothing with a lot of room for two adults to hide in. Door number two then, he thought, crossing the room to it. Cautiously, making sure not to let any sunlight in, he opened the door and let it swing wide. Darkness greeted him, not sunlight. It opened onto a narrow alley, thick with shadows. The vampires were nowhere to be seen, so he shut the door and shoved a dresser in front of it. Back out in the bar, he looked down at Willow, wondering why it was that whenever the two of them got together, one or the other ended up either unconscious, or bleeding.
Sighing in exasperation, he went over to her and picked her up, once again carrying her upstairs to her room. Laying her down gently, he slammed the shutters closed, shut her door, and pushed the dresser in front of it. Shoving her clothes to the floor, he climbed into bed beside her, and pulled her against him.
She'd be real angry when she woke up. Probably think he'd tried to kill her. Well, let her. She couldn't hurt him.
Pairing: W/S of course. That's all I write.
Rating: R
Summary: Spike uses Willow to go back in time to avoid being implanted by the Initiative... has even one of Spike's plans ever gone right? They end up a little further back in time than he intended.
Dedicated: To my beta, Claudia! She rules. Helped me work through a ton of stuff, caught things I'd read a hundred times and never noticed, and did the best thing of all, the easiest thing in the world to get a writer to write... she begged for more.
PART 11
Spike woke up to Willow untangling herself from around him. Her arm slid out from under his back, her leg from his. Without opening his eyes, he asked her where she was going.
"Downstairs," she whispered, "otherwise Sam's going to come up here."
"So what if she does?" He knew he sounded less than nice, but at the moment, he was feeling less than nice. He liked having Willow in bed with him again, and he didn't want her to leave.
"I thought maybe you'd want some more sleep," she said slowly. "Maybe be a little more rested when you meet them, and not be assailed by tons of questions and explanations. But, if you'd rather meet them now, I can--"
He rolled onto his side, away from her. She got the idea and left quietly. Normally he wouldn't mind being up this early, but lately, ever since-- he sighed explosively, not liking the direction his thoughts were taking. Grabbing Willow's pillow from behind him, he smashed it on his head. How he fell asleep with her scent wafting over him, he had no idea.
A few hours later, he woke up again, this time to someone sitting next to him. It was Willow again. Her smell, her heartbeat. Her body laying next to his. Just like old times. Once again, she stayed as far away from him as she could get. He wanted her to curl up against him like she used to do. He missed having her beside him.
As if she'd heard his thoughts, she sighed and whispered, "I sort of missed you, vampire."
Spike jerked awake as the noises he'd been hearing for a few seconds penetrated his mind, forcing him into consciousness. Two more loud thumps followed the first three. He sat up and crept to the door, listening. A muffled scream reached his ears, and he double checked to make sure Willow was still in the room. She was asleep on the bed, practically falling off the opposite side he'd been on, oblivious to anything happening.
He sat on the bed to yank his boots on. "Willow, wake up," he whispered loudly. "Come on, Red, we've got company."
Willow woke up with a yawn. "What's going on?" She sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed.
Boots on, he stood up and started for the door. "Stay here. If I don't come back in a few minutes, or if you get scared, leave." He looked around quickly, and motioned to the window. "Go out there, and don't look back."
Eyes wide, she quickly put on her tennis shoes, then grabbed stakes, holy water, and crosses. A loud crash sounded from downstairs, followed a second later by glass breaking. "What's down there?" she asked quietly. She didn't look scared, like he'd expected her to be, she actually looked angry.
"Vampires," he said dismissively, not about to tell her what specific vampires they were. She'd be sure to stomp down the stairs right behind him, if not in front of him, intending to save her friends, and then Angelus.
Spike wasn't worried about Angelus in the slightest, he could go to hell again for all Spike cared. But he was worried about Drusilla. He hadn't heard her downstairs, so he didn't think she was a vampire yet... she'd be here if she was. This was just the kind of thing she was into. But if she wasn't a vampire yet, then he had to refrain from going down there and killing Angelus... pity.
She looked up from stuffing her pockets full of her slaying paraphernalia. "How many?"
Spike shook his head at her. "Don't even think about it, Willow. You stay here," he told her in no uncertain terms. "Lock the door after me."
She looked about ready to protest, but then finally dropped her arms to her sides and nodded.
Taking one of the stakes from her, he looked her in the eye, made sure she saw how serious he was, and left her room, shutting the door tightly behind him. He waited for her to lock the door, then started cautiously down the hallway.
Willow stopped her pacing, listened closely, then continued on her way. Five minutes had passed since Spike left the room. Five minutes of waiting and listening, hoping for the best for Joe, Sam, and Spike, and knowing that it was pretty likely that everyone down there was dead. Some more so than others. She had to get down there and help them. Help Spike. If he wasn't already dust.
That thought caused her chest to tighten and her breath to catch. Spike couldn't be dead, it just wasn't possible. Refusal to believe in something wasn't usually a problem for Willow, but for some reason... well, she just couldn't believe it. Stopping to listen again, she was startled to hear footsteps in the hall outside her door.
Spike's warning rang through her mind, and she moved to the window, waiting to see what the person was going to do. When she saw the round brass doorknob twist slowly back and forth, she shoved the window open and started to climb through just as the door flew open, slamming against the dresser. The sound of splintering wood rang through the quiet room, echoing for what seemed like forever.
"Hey," a voice yelled.
Willow didn't bother to turn around and look, she climbed over the sash, onto the rooftop. A pair of hands grabbed her roughly by the arms, his fingers digging into the flesh there, and spun her around. She screamed as the vampire grinned at her, showing her his mouthful of sharp yellow fangs. He pushed her backward, and her feet went out from under her. She reached out blindly, as she started to fall, and lucked out by grabbing the window frame. Scrambling away on her hands and knees, she tried to get far enough away to get to her feet and get away, but he was right behind her. He picked her up, carried her back to the window, and shoved her through, back into her room.
She fell forward, landing on her hands and knees, wincing as wood slivers went into all four points of contact.
"That's right, bitch. On your knees," he hissed.
Willow drew in a deep breath as pain and anger swept through her. Being a victim sucked, and she didn't want to be one anymore. Just because this guy was a vampire, and bigger than her by at least a foot, and a demon, and-- well, none of that mattered, right? She had her brain, and her magick, and her... knowledge of the future which probably wouldn't help her, but just might.
"Go to hell," she bit out, hoping to anger him. And sure enough, it worked. Predictable. He came up behind her, grabbed her by the hair, and yanked her up. As soon as he turned her around, she raised her left hand, raked her nails along his neck, and staked him with the stake she'd dropped into her right hand. She was halfway down the stairs by the time the dust settled to the floor.
Slipping down the hallway and stairwell was a breeze compared to working up enough courage to peer through the doorway at the scene before her. And it took her two tries, because she didn't look long enough the first time. Finally, she was able to see a group of vampires in the far left corner of the pub, grouped around something, or someone. She couldn't be sure.
All the tables and chairs were grouped along the right wall, including in front of the door to the outside, which was directly across from her. Not that she'd leave without Spike, Joe and Sam. Leaning back against the wall, she saw something blue to her left. She turned her head, dreading what she would see.
Samantha's favorite color was sky blue, so she had a lot of blue dresses, boots, shoes, and ribbons. Right now, most of the blue was covered in red and brown stains. Joe's hair was covered in blood as well, from where Samantha's neck wound had bled onto the floor and pooled underneath his head, mixing with his own blood which was also pooling under him.
Willow ducked back into the hall and swallowed hard, pressing her hands into her eyes to stop the tears trying to fall. Now wasn't the time, damn it. Not now. Halting the sob in her throat, she peered once more around the corner. The gang of vamps were still there, still doing whatever it was they were doing, and now, her fury getting the better of her, she wanted to know what the hell was going on. Stake in hand, she dropped to the ground and crawled through the doorway, hiding behind the bar.
Ignoring the dead couple a few feet away from her, wasn't easy. Her hand landed in the blood beside Sam's arm, and she slid forward, catching herself just before smacking into the bar. She frantically wiped her bloody hand on her skirt, and took a deep breath, dreading what she was about to do. Standing up, she looked around the room, seeing five vampires in the corner--three men, two women--and Spike. He was unconscious and bloody. Bruised too. And looking pretty bad.
Two other vampires were standing off to the side, watching the spectacle in the corner. The vampires grouped around Spike occasionally kicked or hit him. One of them was feeding off of him, her mouth was attached to his arm. Ew, gross.
She had to stop them. Not only was it wrong, and mean, it was extremely gross and disgusting.
"Angelus." Her voice wasn't loud, but it didn't have to be.
He heard her immediately. His brown eyes fixed on hers, a malevolent grin lifting the corners of his mouth. Every other head in the room turned toward her as one. The vampire feeding off Spike dropped his arm, and stood up with the rest of them. And all the snarling, sneering vampires, their fangs glistening, their eyes glowing, advanced on her. Angelus stopped them with a single look.
Holding her stake up for Angelus to see, Willow tossed it harmlessly to the floor on the other side of the bar. "I won't kill you." Lifting her other hand, which held a satchel filled with useless herbs meant to protect, she added, "But I will hurt you, so I suggest you get out."
"Angelus?" a small voice inquired. "Who is this?" Darla, standing beside Angelus, her hand resting possessively on his arm, looked Willow over, apparently finding her lacking. "This is the one you captured? The one who hurt you?" she giggled. "She is only a human."
Angelus shrugged out from under her touch, his eyes never leaving Willow's. He walked forward a few feet, his boots loud in the ensuing silence. At his movements, the vampires seemed to decide as one that it was time to get back to what they'd been doing.
"Your husband," Angelus said suddenly, a light going on in his eyes. Remembrance was flooding through him from a hundred and seven years ago.
Flicking her eyes to the corner, checking to make sure Spike was still there and not dust, she hoped she hadn't given herself away. Hoped she didn't look as frightened as she felt. Fear was racing through her, her heart was beating a million miles an hour, and through it all, she kept her expression blank. She hoped.
She nodded, trying not to shrink away from the glare in Darla's eyes. If looks could kill... the trick to looking tough, was looking tough. Willow crossed her arms over her chest and glared right back. That'll teach her to-- or not. Darla growled at her and started forward. Angelus' hand shot out and grabbed her arm.
"She's mine," he growled, shoving Darla back. "I owe her."
Willow gulped, and turned toward the vampires holding Spike. "Let him go."
Angelus chuckled ruefully. "Oh, no, I don't think so. See, I also owe him."
Reminding him of the herbs in her hand, she motioned toward the corner. "Let him go, and I won't kill you."
Darla laughed delightedly. "Kill us? My dear," she said condescendingly, "you won't kill us. Not if you want everything to be as it should."
Willow hid the frown that was forming on her brow. How did she know? How could she possibly have guessed? "Will so," she disagreed, starting to lose her cool. There'd been no sound from Spike, no movement from him either. She could hardly even see him anymore.
"The girl told us. The one you found for my boy." She sneered at Willow, her face becoming demonic for a moment. "She says you're a traveler." Darla smiled sweetly. "I say you're a puny human, not worthy of my Angelus."
Willow refused to be drawn into an argument with a jealous vampire. She turned her eyes to her future-friend. "Let him go, Angelus."
"You know, back in Galway, when I generously told you of your 'husband's' infidelity, I couldn't figure out why you were so uncaring." He circled around the bar, stalking toward her. She glanced behind herself, knowing she only had a few feet left before she ran into the wall. When her back finally hit it, he grinned and stepped closer, trailing his finger along the polished wood counter.
"You knew her in Galway?" Darla asked suspiciously, then looked more closely at her. "The loon was right? She really is a traveler?"
Angelus ignored Darla, keeping his attention on Willow. "I realize now that he was feeding, not fu--"
Two of the vampires guarding Spike, suddenly went flying across the room. Another one was reduced to dust. Spike jumped up, backing away from the remaining two, planting his back against the same wall she was against, a chair leg in his hand.
Angelus wasted no time in grabbing Willow when he saw his minions falling to the floor in useless piles of dust. His hand did the usual wrapping around her neck move... must be a vampire thing. Freud would have a field day with them. He slid behind her, holding her still with his other arm, which he wrapped around her stomach. All kinds of icky feelings were washing over her from the contact, but she shoved it away. Later. Later, she would cry for her lost friends, cry for herself, and scream and yell at the situation she'd been forced into, but right now, she needed to keep a level head.
Angelus seemed to be waiting for Spike to notice the position they were in, so she called out to him, whispering around the hand at her throat. "William."
He dusted the last two vampires that were attempting to charge him, and brushed himself off before turning toward them. His jaw tightened, and Willow was pretty sure he was angry at her for not getting away. "Didn't I tell you to run, Red?"
"Red," Angelus repeated. "Is that his pet name for you?" he whispered in her ear, making her cringe. "Is that why you got so angry when I called you that? Well, gosh, isn't that sweet?"
"I tried," Willow told Spike, ignoring Angelus completely. "But the dust pile in my room-- ow."
"Quiet," Angelus barked, squeezing her neck tightly. Darla moved behind them, her hand threading through Willow's hair and pulling her head back, baring it to Angelus' mouth. Thankfully he didn't take advantage of the offer.
"Let her go, Angelus, you've already got one plaything." Spike jumped over the counter and advanced on them. Angelus laughed and walked backwards, dragging Willow with him.
She was starting to feel like a rag doll. Everyone seemed to want to force her to do what they wanted. But this was Angelus, she couldn't simply stake him and walk away, even if she could manage it. Buffy barely had, so she didn't really hold any hope of being able to herself. And she didn't want to. Angel was her friend. Buffy's love. He'd saved their lives on numerous occasions... from Spike a few times too. Truthfully, she shouldn't be anywhere near any of these three vampires.
And yet.
Someone up there seemed to take great pleasure in throwing them together. A nice big jumble of vampires and witches. Well, witch. Singular. And... um, they were discussing her, and she was thinking way too much about things, and not paying enough attention.
"Drusilla not enough for you, mate?" Spike snarled. "Driving her batty not satisfying you?" He vamped out, sneering at Angelus.
"Sp-- William, don't," she whispered, trying to get his attention away from Angelus. His eyes flicked momentarily to hers, but she didn't see a speck of warmth in them. Uh-oh. His entire attention was focused on Angelus, and she feared that maybe he was letting his anger and hatred get the best of him. He was a demon after all, they tended to do stuff like that. A lot.
"Yeah, William," Angelus taunted. "Don't." He laughed at the fury on Spike's face, and licked Willow's neck.
"Ew," she said, not wisely, and automatically tried to shrug him off of her. Obviously, he wasn't about to be displaced that easily. And she was pretty sure she'd angered him, because his arms tightened around her even more. Now would be a good time to get free. The spell she'd done before, when Angelus had her tied to a chair, seemed like a good idea. The Latin words fell easily from her lips, and her head fell back as the power flowed through her.
"Oh, bloody hell," Spike ground out, before jumping over the counter, and ducking down behind it.
Darla, who Willow had all but forgotten about, grabbed her arm just as Willow's eyes slid shut and the magick shot through her. Darla and Angelus both yelled in surprise and pain. Good. She liked that she'd caused them a little bit of the pain they'd caused her. Without opening her eyes, she drew in a deep breath, and stood straighter, working out the kinks in her neck.
She could see Angelus and Darla on the floor behind her, watching her warily, fearfully, and she reveled in it, not stopping to wonder how she could see them when they were behind her, and her eyes were closed. She was too busy thinking that they should fear her. Cower before her. Opening her eyes, she searched for Spike. He was just getting to his feet on the other side of the bar again. Behind her, the other two vampires were climbing to their feet as well, still watching her cautiously. She grinned and turned toward them, fixing them in place with a look.
And then everything went black.
Spike heard Willow speak Latin, and dove over the bar, knowing something bad was about to happen. Just as he made it to safety, Darla and Angelus screamed and went flying backwards, smacking into the wall behind Willow, and slumping to the floor in a heap. His grin of satisfaction didn't last long. In his experience, Willow and magick usually equaled badness. Proposing to the slayer, ending up two hundred and forty-six years in the past, and then five years from when he wanted to end up... these were not good things.
Standing up cautiously, he peered over the counter at Willow and saw her standing perfectly straight and still, like a statue. Angelus and Darla were standing as well, just as Willow turned toward them, opening her eyes. She grinned at them, and then suddenly sagged. Her eyes turned black, and all emotion and life left her in a breath. He knew this look, he'd almost been killed by the last witch to be possessed by this thing. If it was indeed the same thing.
"Leave," she told the couple glaring at her from their spot against the wall.
Spike sighed when he heard the deep, rumbling voice that left Willow's lips. It was the same voice from five years ago all right. The big and mighty Time Stabilizer.
Angelus didn't seem to realize the trouble he was in. He stalked forward, sneering at Willow.
"You don't tell me, Red, I tell you." He stood in front of Willow, daring her to do something.
Spike shook his head with a sigh. Angelus always was a bloody stupid idiot. "I wouldn't do that if I were you."
They both ignored Spike. Willow lifted her hands up, palms out, facing Angelus. "She doesn't wish you to call her that, vampire." Her hands started to glow a dark green color. "Leave," the voice repeated. "This time has already been irrevocably altered. Alter it more and you will cease to exist." She turned her eyes to Darla, who had joined Angelus.
"Come on, Angelus, let's go. I'm not having fun any more," Darla declared, pulling on his arm. Spike sneered at her, she always had been the type to run at the first sign of trouble.
Angelus shook her hand off his arm and straightened up. His eyes stayed fixed on Willow, and he looked about ready to attack her. Spike tensed, preparing to jump across the counter again to protect Willow. She was still his ticket home. He didn't exactly fancy living out the next hundred and forty years here.
Finally, Angelus nodded, trying to act casual and unafraid. "Let's go, Darla. This... place has lost its appeal." He stepped closer to Willow, leaning in to whisper, though he made sure to speak loud enough so everyone present heard him. "Make no mistake, I'll find you again... *Red*."
Spike rolled his eyes, and moved back a few feet, making sure to stay shielded by the counter. Willow's hands didn't glow brighter, or raise up, the light simply shot out from her palms, and struck Angelus in the chest. He went flying backwards for the second time that night, and Darla with him. Furious snarls and growling sounded from the couple, but they decided they'd had enough abuse for one night, and quickly left.
Spike chuckled at their hasty retreat, then circled around the counter to Willow. She sagged again, collapsing to the floor. He caught her before her head could smack on a shelf behind the bar, and lifted her up. He almost dropped her when the heat from her skin penetrated his clothes.
"Christ," he ground out, carrying her upstairs quickly. Setting her on her bed, he stood back, wondering what he was supposed to do now. She was hot as hell, but shivering.
This hadn't happened to Christine. She'd woken up on her own, given him some supplies for a protection spell, and showed him out the door.
What was it humans said? Feed a fever, starve a cold? Feed a cold, starve a fever? She wasn't even conscious, how was he supposed to feed her? And what was he supposed to feed her? He doubted food, or a lack of it, would help her at this point. Maybe a cold bath to bring her temperature down... if he knew where a bathtub was. Not to mention indoor plumbing.
He covered her up, and sat back to wait. After a good twenty minutes, and nothing happened, he went downstairs for a bottle of whiskey to pass the time. Stepping over her dead friends, he grabbed a bottle and headed back upstairs. Willow was tossing and turning, trying to shove the blanket off. Her eyes slid open for a second before closing again. "I'm hot, Mom. No more covers," she moaned.
Spike set the whiskey on the dresser and covered her back up. "You have a fever or something. What am I supposed to do?" She didn't answer. "Fine," he muttered. "More covers it is." He went through her dresser drawers and closet, tossing every dress he could find on top of her. His own black T-Shirt went as well, along with her red jeans. She tried to shove them off, but he held her hands still.
"Mmm, cold. Feels good," she whispered, pressing his hands against her face. Her skin heated his almost immediately, sapping all the coolness from him. She dropped his hands, opening her eyes again. "Oz? Not Oz." She frowned, shivering, and turned onto her side, snuggling into the covers. A second later, she drew in a deep breath. "Spike," she mumbled. "It smells like you again."
He looked down at her, wondering what the hell she was talking about. What smelled like him? Seeing the black cotton garment under her cheek, he realized she was talking about his T-Shirt. "If you say so, pet." Grabbing the bottle of whiskey from the dresser, he uncorked it and took a swig, then poured some of it over the bitemark on his arm. Bloody bitch had taken a good chunk out of him. Who the hell taught her how to fight? he wondered. Generally, vampires didn't bite each other unless they had sex in mind. Or dominance. Considering they were there to kill, he was pretty sure sex hadn't entered into it. And she was a long way off of being dominant over anyone except maybe a month old vampire.
Taking another swig as his arm dripped with whiskey and blood, he shifted slightly to get more comfortable. His right side ached like a bastard. Most of the kicking and blows he'd been given had somehow ended up on that side. Lifting his eyes to Willow's form, he sighed. She was huddled on the bed, looking so small and lost that he couldn't help but feel for her.
Unfortunately, she showed no signs of waking up anytime soon. It was going to be a long night.
Spike dropped his cigarette to the floor, and crushed it under his boot. Standing up with a yawn, he stumbled over to the bed, staring down at Willow with a baleful eye. Kicking off his boots, and taking off his shirt, he climbed into bed beside her. She'd been silent in the four hours since she'd discovered he wasn't dogboy, hadn't moved much either. If he hadn't been able to hear her heartbeat, he'd have wondered if she was still alive.
After he slid under the covers, and got comfortable, settling on one side of the bed, she rolled over and snuggled up against him. Yep. Definitely still alive. And warm, though no longer overly so. A sigh escaped her, and he felt her breath fan across his chest as her hand curled under her cheek. He held himself still, waiting for her to wake up and realize where she was, but it didn't happen. Lifting his arm up cautiously, he wrapped it around her, enjoying the familiar feeling of holding her again after so long.
Just as he was drifting off to sleep, he felt her stiffen. She held her breath for a few seconds, then slowly tried to move away from him. Her heartbeat was taking off as panic settled over her.
"It's just me," he whispered, letting go of her to show her he meant no harm.
Silence greeted him, then a soft, "S-- Spike?"
"Still not Elvis." He was surprised when she didn't move away from him. "You okay now?"
She shook her head frantically, close to tears. "No." She was trying hard not to cry, sniffling every few seconds, and swallowing her sobs. "They're dead," she whispered. "Angelus and Darla killed them."
He wondered for a second who she was talking about before remembering her dead friends downstairs. "I know." He smoothed his hand down her back, feeling the need to comfort her, though it certainly wasn't something he was used to doing. Killing, and maiming, now those things he knew how to do. Comforting anyone except Dru was beyond him. "I'm sorry."
Was it okay to lie to the person you were trying to comfort? Didn't seem right. But what was he supposed to say? 'I know they're dead, but I could care less. So hey, goodnight and sweet dreams.' That probably wouldn't go over too well.
Unable to hold back any longer, she started crying, her whole body shaking with sobs. Tears wet his chest, but he didn't mind too much. She'd been through a lot in the past year, or however long she'd been here. He was used to living in the past. He'd lived through it once. She hadn't. And yet, she'd survived her time here. Now her friends were dead, friends who'd helped her survive.
Her sobs quieted after a few minutes, her tears dried up, and her breathing evened out. "I miss Sunnydale," she whispered. "I want to go home."
Spike had been thinking about that recently, about leaving. Seeing Dru was great, watching her with her family, her friends, seeing her laugh without the insanity... well, it was beyond description, though he wasn't sure why. Knowing her before she became the demon he loved was great. But, she didn't know him, didn't care a thing about him. In fact, the few times he'd approached her, she'd cowered from him. Apparently that psychic thing was in full swing even now, because she was afraid of him.
Why she wasn't afraid of Angelus baffled him no end.
Spike wanted to stick around to make sure things went like they were supposed to, and considering how much they'd screwed with things already, there was no guarantee that Dru would be made at all. The thing speaking through Willow had fueled that fear in Spike, and now he was back to thinking they needed to stick around.
When he didn't answer right away, she sighed heavily, and sniffled. "Never mind." Pushing away from him, she settled on the other side of the bed.
"We can't," he said regretfully. "Not yet. After the whole near-miss in Galway, I think we should stick around to make sure Angelus turns Dru."
She didn't fight him like he'd expected, just sniffled some more, and nodded in resignation. "I know. You're right, we should stay and make sure." She sighed, and continued on in a hesitant voice. "As much as I want to go home right now... I think we need to stick around to make sure you get turned too. We screwed things up so badly that--"
He sat up, startled. "What? Things are mostly still on track, or at least, not that off-track, the only difference is that they know who we are now." Bloody hell. He didn't want to go to eighteen-eighty. Didn't want to see his human counterpart. "There's no need to go there."
She sat up as well, resting against the wall behind them. "But, there is. What if Angelus recognizes you... I mean William? He'd probably kill him on the spot."
Damn it, she was right. Why did his plans always go so wrong? It had seemed like a nice, solid plan. Grab the witch, force her to do the time travel spell, go back a few months, keep him from being captured. Simple plan. Easy.
Stupid.
He should've known. Nothing he did ever went right. At least not since coming to Sunnydale. The blasted slayer was at the root of most of his screw-ups. Bloody bitch. Shoving himself out of Willow's bed, he grabbed his coat and fished out one of the cigarettes he'd rolled a few days ago. He leaned against the dresser as he lit it. "What if I don't want to go to eighteen-eighty?"
Willow was folding the clothes he'd thrown on her hours before. She stopped with a shrug, playing with the belt loop on her jeans. "You didn't give me a choice, so, I'm not giving you a choice," she said with a brave and hopeful look.
He just lifted an eyebrow at her. Like she could force him to do anything. Please.
The hope and bravery melted into worry. "But," she reasoned, looking up at him, "what if you don't get turned?"
He rolled his eyes, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Looking back on some of the things I've done, maybe that wouldn't be a bad thing." Well, yes, actually it would be a bad thing. He happened to like his unlife, thank you very much.
"Wait," she said, sitting up straighter. "You're regretting stuff you've done?" She held her hand against his forehead with a concerned frown. "Are you all right? You feel okay? You're not getting a soul, are you?"
"Yeah, that's what's happening," he said with a chuckle. "Of course I regret things. Like the Halloween Buffy turned into an innocent little frail weakling. I regret not killing her faster. And when I got caught by the Initiative. I regret that. Or the time Dru--"
Willow snorted and pushed him away with a laugh. A second later, her smile faded, and she went back to folding her clothes. "Did-- back in Galway, when you said being bitten doesn't have to hurt, did you mean it?"
"Yeah. Why? You want to test out that theory?" He waggled his eyebrows at her lasciviously.
She shook her head with a shudder, staring down at his T-Shirt. "Do you think Sam and Joe--"
Feeling somewhat responsible for her friends' deaths, what with him being a vampire and their killers being vampires, he sighed heavily, and spoke more harshly than he needed to. "You want me to lie, Willow? You saw Darla bite Angelus. You yourself have been bitten by him, and by others. Did Darla's bite hurt him? Sure looked like it to me. And I can pretty much guarantee that that newest one on your neck was painful."
She went to the window and carefully opened the shutters, making sure not to let the sun hit him. Leaning against the wall below the sash, she folded her arms across her chest. "Every bite I have was painful, Spike. Ten bites, each one painful."
His eyes flickered to her neck, seeing seven bite marks. He knew who owned those... but where were the other three? Joining her by the window, he tossed his cigarette out, dodging the dangerous golden rays of death.
"Where are they?" Anger was coursing through him, and he had to work to keep his face from changing. How dare someone else mark her. She was his. Well... in the sense that she was marked by him--twice--and was traveling with him. They'd slept together for a week. Technically been together for a century. If one didn't count the years they'd been apart, and okay, didn't sound like he had much of a claim on her after all. But neither did anyone else.
Willow shook her head in confusion. "Where are who?"
He sat on the edge of the bed, leaning forward slightly, watching her intently. "The other three bite marks." He'd bet his right arm they'd been done by the bastard that tried to rape her. And that was something he didn't want to think about. He'd already gone through the whole guilt thing for not being there when it happened. And the fury that someone else had touched her. He'd gone through all that five years ago, he didn't need to replay it again now.
No. It wasn't just that he'd touched her. It was that he'd forced her. Touched her when she didn't want to be touched.
Forcing the anger back again, he raised a questioning eyebrow at her. "Well?"
"Why?" she countered. "Does it really matter?" Judging by the nauseous look on her face, she didn't want to discuss it.
Tough. "Yes, it does."
She moved further into the sunlight, looking trapped. "You know what?" She threw the shutters open all the way, and walked quickly out of the room, staying out of reach in the sunlight. "I don't think it's any of your business." Stopping at the door, she turned back around and was surprised to find him right beside her. She eeped. Literally.
Spike had to laugh. Willow was one of a kind. He doubted there was another one of her in the world. "Just answer the question."
"No," she said adamantly. "You don't own me. I don't have to do what you say. Got it?" She backed away from him, going into the hall.
He followed her, shutting the door quickly behind him to block the sun from killing him. Didn't want to ruin his already sucky day, now did he? "Actually, you do kind of belong to me. And, as for not having to do what I say? You do. See... I no longer have that pesky implant to worry about."
She stopped at the bottom of the stairs and turned to face him. "Fine, Spike. Bite me, kill me... go ahead."
He grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her away from him. She slid across the floor, slamming her head into the wall, and dropped to the floor unconscious. The two vampires that'd been sneaking up behind her, snarled at their lost prey. Spike vamped out, and stepped in front of her, facing down her dead friends.
"Should've gotten out while it was dark," he told them. Yep, he definitely remembered these two from his trip here five years ago. They were a little older, a lot deader, and considerably more bloody, but it was them.
They both halted their progress when they saw his face. "Why are you protecting her?" Joe asked, his Irish accent thick, made thicker by a mouthful of fangs.
Samantha, her blonde hair ratted and bloody, stepped forward with more confidence than her husband. "The girl is ours. We want her."
"Wrong," he snarled. "She's mine. Remember that husband she was waiting for?" They nodded, looking at each other fearfully. "I'm him."
"Oh," they said together. And then they ran. Not out the front door, like Angelus and Darla had done, but toward their bedroom. He heard a door slam, and then another. Must be another way out. Either that, or they'd just trapped themselves.
He ran after them with a quick glance over his shoulder at Willow, and found himself in an empty bedroom. There was a lot of furniture--a large bed, dresser, table and chairs, wardrobe--but nothing with a lot of room for two adults to hide in. Door number two then, he thought, crossing the room to it. Cautiously, making sure not to let any sunlight in, he opened the door and let it swing wide. Darkness greeted him, not sunlight. It opened onto a narrow alley, thick with shadows. The vampires were nowhere to be seen, so he shut the door and shoved a dresser in front of it. Back out in the bar, he looked down at Willow, wondering why it was that whenever the two of them got together, one or the other ended up either unconscious, or bleeding.
Sighing in exasperation, he went over to her and picked her up, once again carrying her upstairs to her room. Laying her down gently, he slammed the shutters closed, shut her door, and pushed the dresser in front of it. Shoving her clothes to the floor, he climbed into bed beside her, and pulled her against him.
She'd be real angry when she woke up. Probably think he'd tried to kill her. Well, let her. She couldn't hurt him.