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
RATING: Strong R (17/?)
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 17
"Red," a voice called impatiently. "Red!"
Willow lifted her head up to find herself in the Slayer's house with Angelus standing above her. "Angelus," she muttered, climbing to her feet to face him. She'd learned two things from her experience in the warehouse. One: She wasn't entirely helpless as long as she had her magick. And two: She preferred to meet death bravely rather than cowering in a corner.
If he wanted to kill her, he'd do it to her face.
Her memories from the dream were fading quickly, and the faster the better. She didn't like feeling that... out of control.
Angelus smirked at her, pacing back and forth slowly, like a soldier facing his troops. His hands were behind his back, his boots ringing loudly on the floor. A faint smell of leather rose from him, and she wondered at that. He wasn't wearing any. Horses maybe?
"Red-- what's your name?" he asked suddenly.
"Petunia," she told him, her eyes wide and innocent, her smirk just as big. She shrugged and inwardly patted herself on the back for the control she had over herself. As long as she kept control, she was okay. Things would be okay.
He reached out and grabbed her wrist, dragging her toward him slowly, drawing out her fear as he vamped out and snarled at her. "Your name--" he began, but then stopped with a sniff, looking down at her. "Your vampire's stench is all over you," he told her, snarling in disgust.
"My vampire?" she snorted, rolling her eyes. "William's not my vampire. He's *a* vampire. Big difference."
His amused smile lit up his face, his bright shiny white teeth flashing in the darkened room. "And who owns you, if not William?" he asked softly.
She frowned, backing away from him. "No one owns me. Look, I'm sorry if I offend you, but I didn't have time to bathe today... you know, with all the kidnaping and such." She shrugged in mock apology, forcing a smirk to her lips. "Just don't breathe too deeply and you should be fine."
He moved with her, his hand shooting out to wrap around her neck, tightening just enough to make breathing difficult. His thumb moved lightly against her skin, forcing a shudder from her. "You're not his whore then?"
She shoved his hands away from her and tried to pull away, but he held on, not letting her go anywhere this time. "I'm no one's anything," she bit out, her hard eyes boring into his. "What do you want?"
"Mm," he said absently, running his hand up to her jaw to hold her face still. Staring down at her, he vamped out. "Do you think they'll let me turn you? These powers speaking through you?" Pulling the collar of her gown away from her skin to look down at her breasts, he ignored her slapping hands again. "I think you'd make a nice little addition to our family."
His feral grin sent cold chills through her entire body.
________________________________________________
Spike looked up at the Slayer's house, noting the boarded-up windows. There were definitely vampires in there. If he hadn't felt them, the windows were all the proof he needed. Several heartbeats were inside as well, he just hoped one of them was Willow.
Striding up to the front door, he tried the knob, hoping to get in without being stopped. Odds were the vampires--new recruits since he'd killed their last minions--would think he was just one of the family. In keeping with Angelus' style, there were no vampire guards posted close to the house. Didn't want to draw attention.
Loud laughter and snarling met him with the opening of the door. The inside was mostly still intact, not trashed like most vampire lairs. Sconces and candles were lit across the foyer, along with a roaring fire in the drawing room off the hall. A group of ragtag vampires, looking no older than a week, sat around the drawing room, drinking whiskey and blood.
A servant girl huddled in one corner, her hands tied and her mouth gagged. Her long brown hair was hanging loose, her clothes torn in spots. Blood ran from the corner of her mouth and from somewhere in her hair, dripping down her forehead. Her large blue eyes found his, begging for help, not knowing he was just as much a monster as her captors.
She was scared to death and probably in pain, but he couldn't help her. Didn't know if he would even if he could. She was nothing to him.
Willow was his only priority. She was the one he'd come for, the one he wouldn't leave behind. The one he cared about.
If Angelus had touched her, hurt her in any way, Spike was going to kill him, no matter the future. Even as he thought it, he knew he was lying to himself. He couldn't jeopardize his own future for petty revenge.
Angelus had a habit of using women for either food or fun, and since he had a grudge with them, he was pretty sure Angelus would choose fun.
The wide staircase directly in front of the door seemed the best place to start. They would've put her somewhere she couldn't easily get to the ground from, in case the boarded-up windows didn't keep her in. Taking the stairs slowly, one at a time, so as not to draw attention, he ascended the circular staircase, listening for heartbeats and voices as he went.
He sniffed here and there, hoping to catch her scent. It was faint, but it was there. Too many other creatures in the place to pinpoint it, but he knew she was there. As he reached the top of the landing, Darla stepped out in front of him.
"Angelus was right," she said smugly, her eyes traveling over him with distaste. "You came for her. For a human."
"Sorry to disappoint you," he shrugged, taking the last step up, his hands fisting at his sides. Glancing away briefly, he looked down the long hall, hoping to see a sign of Willow's presence. He had to force himself not to kill Darla, the thorn in his side. Her manner was always so haughty, and she thought her word gospel. She thought she was better than everyone else and because of Cecily, he'd always had a problem with women like that.
"You're a disgrace to all vampires," she tossed at him, snarling her disgust like venom.
He laughed, hoping he was around to see Darla's face when she found out about Angel's soul. Maybe he'd ask Willow to take another little detour, just to see the smug smile scraped off Darla's face. "Yeah, you remember that in about... oh, twenty-eight years or so. Now," he said, shooting his hands out to grab her arms, "where is she?"
Darla inhaled, looking at him seductively, her laughter floating through the silent hallway. "I don't mind the pain." She moved closer to him as he tightened his hands around her arms.
Annoyance shot through him. Darla was always in his way, interfering and sticking her nose in where it didn't belong. She had meddled countless times in his relationship with Dru, who'd let herself sometimes be swayed by the older vampire. Darla was the epitome of everything he despised. He hated Darla as much as he loved Dru.
"Pain," he said absently, "funny you should mention that." He head-butted her with a grin. "Because, I don't mind doling it out." She reeled back with a gasp, not having expected the blow. Kicking her in the chest, he sent her flying backwards to land on her ass on the hall floor. "A good position for you," he told her snidely, "on the floor, groveling. I always knew I'd have you there one day."
She snarled and jumped up, diving at him. He sidestepped her and grabbed one of the railing posts, kicking at it to break it free. The wood splintered off in his hands, one end blunt, the other sharp and pointy. Handy, that.
She landed on her hands and knees near him, and was up again almost immediately. Holding the stake up at chest level, he grabbed her arm and spun her around, setting the stake against her chest.
"Now," he said softly, "where is that pesky human everyone seems to want to take from me?"
Darla glanced down at the stake and sighed, pointing toward the end of the hall. "Angelus is with her." She laughed lightly, her little-girl voice grating on his nerves. "He's teaching her a lesson. Or two," she chuckled.
Spike dragged her with him down the hall, keeping her prisoner in much the same way Buffy had once done to Dru in a far off bomb shelter in a far off town.
"Open it," he told her as they approached. He could hear voices inside and hoped that was a good sign. If she was talking, she was okay. He hoped. Angelus' lessons were always hard ones. Dru had lost a few of her marbles during some of those lessons. Spike himself had almost snapped a few times. Angelus liked pain even more than Darla, he especially liked to give pain, and human women had always been a favorite of his.
Darla reached out and turned the key, unlocking the door and twisting the knob. The door swung open slowly, revealing Willow on her knees with Angelus above her, his hand raised to strike her.
Stepping into the room, he kept his eyes on Angelus. He was the biggest threat. Darla was neutralized for the moment, not a huge threat without him screwing up big-time. Seeing Willow's eyes dart to him, he tilted his head to the side, acknowledging her as Angelus' hand dropped to his side. "Miss me, love?"
Relief shone in her eyes and she nodded and smiled widely. "Not one whit."
Spike chuckled, shoving his concern for her to the back of his mind. She looked fine. A single bite mark graced her neck, looking rather nasty, but she was okay. They'd get free, and then take off to the Great White North. Or the 1880's.
"Darla," Angelus said jovially, "I told you he'd come for her." He spun around, chuckling evilly.
Darla nodded, smiling too much for someone who was at the mercy of a stake. Angelus looked past Spike, toward the door. Too late, Spike realized there were vampires behind him. He spun around, shoving the stake into Darla's chest a ways, drawing blood, but not killing her. Two of the huge burly guys he'd seen downstairs with the servant girl moved forward and grabbed his arms, dragging him away from Darla.
His makeshift stake clattered to the floor as his arms were encased in the beefy hands of the vampires. His eyes followed it as it rolled toward Willow. She was watching the stake as well, with just her eyes, her head stayed high, her face blank. The stake came to rest by her calf, half-hidden under her skirts. While everyone's attention was on Spike, she slipped the stake further under her skirts, hiding it completely.
Angelus turned back to her suddenly, frowning. Spike kicked up a fuss, hollering and freeing himself briefly, knowing the pursuit of freedom was in vain. His efforts worked, drawing all attention away from Willow. She smiled a little in his direction, thanking him without words.
He freed his left arm when Angelus neared him, and punched the bastard in the face, glancing at Willow as Angelus's head snapped to the side. Angelus motioned toward the two goons. They tugged him in the direction of the lone chair in the room and quickly shoved him into it, using a set of chains on the floor beside the chair.
They wrapped the chains around his ankles and locked the short piece. Another was wrapped around each wrist, tethered to the chair arms. A bigger piece was wrapped tightly around his chest and around the back of the chair, locked with a click from behind him.
He was solidly stuck. Not going anywhere.
Once he was secured in the chair, Angelus hit him, landing a solid punch to Spike's right eye.
Vamping out, he growled at Angelus, working at his chains, trying to free himself.
Angelus moved behind him, spinning the chair in Willow's direction. "Now," he said with glee. "Let the show begin." He circled around Willow, his eyes promising horrible tortures, things she couldn't even begin to imagine. Things Spike knew all too well.
The thought of Angelus touching Willow at all had him forcing back fury, but knowing the things Angelus liked to do to women had him the smallest bit frightened. His eyes found Angelus'. "If you touch her, I'll kill you."
Willow frowned at him. Her brows dipped down minutely as her fingers clutched her gown. "Spike," she said loudly, shaking her head a little. "I mean William..." she rolled her eyes at herself. "Oh heck, I mean Spike. His name is Spike, okay everyone? Ooo," she waved her empty hands in the air in front of her, "now I've done it. Told the evil vampires your name. Now time's gonna spin wildly out of control and things will randomly explode."
Darla raised an eyebrow at Willow, her mouth twisting up in annoyance. "Can't we gag her?" she asked Angelus.
The two goons beside Spike shared a confused look, obviously more muscle than brains. Darla sighed at them, waving her hand toward the door. "You can go. But guard the door."
The burly guys showed no emotion on their stone faces as they left the room behind, shutting the door so hard it shook in its frame.
Testing the strength of the chains while Darla and Angelus stared at the door in annoyance, he felt them give only half an inch, not enough to free himself.
He caught Willow's eye and glanced down at the chains, moving his hands a little at the wrist. The chains clinked softly as he shifted.
Angelus, unaware of the silent exchange, slid his hand down Willow's shoulder, brushing her hair away from her neck. He leaned over to whisper in her ear, his eyes on Spike. "What do you say? Should we put something in your mouth to keep you quiet?"
Willow closed her eyes briefly, holding herself still. Spike could see the struggle it took for her not to stake Angelus. Not to go ballistic. A small shudder shook her body, but when her eyes opened, they were clear. She stared at the wall across from her, ignoring Angelus as much as she could.
"No?" he taunted, his fingers tightening on her jaw, turning her head roughly toward him. "Answer me, Red."
Willow fisted her hands at her sides, her eyes fastening on Angelus' face. "I told you not to call me that," she ground out.
"You're not exactly in a position to be giving orders." Shoving himself to his feet, he strode over to stand in front of Spike. "And what, pray tell, are you smirking about?" His fist shot out, catching Spike in the jaw.
"You," Spike answered, laughing at the dark-haired vampire as he moved his jaw back and forth. "I'm smirking at you." He leaned as far forward as he could, his tone conspiratorial, "You're letting a little human witch get the better of you." He relaxed back into his seat, glancing away as if bored. "You're pathetic."
"Oh, I'm pathetic," Angelus sneered, spinning back around toward Willow. "I'm not the vampire who risked his life to save a mortal. And I," he ground out, grabbing Willow's hair roughly, forcing her head back a small ways, "am not the one who whines when someone besides her vampire lover calls her a name that's apparently reserved only for him."
Spike shrugged lazily. "The lady's fond of me, I have no say in her affections." His eyes landed on Willow again, taking in the slight pink tint to her cheeks. "And I have no say in my own either," he said softly, more for her ears than Angelus'.
Willow's eyes lifted to his, ignoring Angelus' tight hold on her.
"Well," Angelus sneered, rolling his eyes, "isn't this sweet? Should we leave the two lovebirds alone, Darla?"
Darla snickered, striding toward Spike. She raised her fingers, wiping the blood from her chest. Her eyes dropped to the smear of blood on her fingers as she circled around him. Her other hand threaded through his hair, her nails scraping against his scalp as she jerked his head back.
"Ceiling could use a coat of paint," he remarked, turning his eyes to Darla.
She shoved her blood-coated finger between his lips and then pushed his head back down. He tried not to taste the blood, the powerful blood of his great-grand sire, but it was there, on his lips, his tongue, the corner of his mouth. His tongue darted out to lick at the blood, his eyes catching Willow's eyes as she hastily looked away.
"Oh," Darla gasped dramatically, "I think she's horrified." She viciously raked her nails down his cheek, licking her lips as small rivulets of blood welled up from the scratches. She swiped at it with her thumb and headed over to Willow. "Care for a taste, honey?"
"No, thanks," she said in disgust, turning her head away and keeping her mouth firmly closed.
Darla shrugged, sucking her thumb into her mouth, closing her eyes briefly as she tasted his blood. "Mmm," she moaned, "his blood is strong."
Angelus tossed him an irritated glance and swiped his hand at the blood on Spike's cheek. He shoved his finger into his mouth, rolling his eyes at Darla. "Tastes like blood to me," he muttered, "normal, weak blood."
Spike chuckled at him. "You said it, mate, not me."
Willow silently watched the exchange, her face expressionless.
Swiping more blood from Spike's cheek, making him feel like an all-you-can-eat buffet, Angelus shoved his finger toward Willow's lips. Once again, she turned her head away and clamped her lips shut. "That wasn't a suggestion," Angelus told her, pressing his thumb and forefinger into her cheeks to force her mouth open. "Come on, baby," he encouraged, "or I'll find something else to put in there."
Spike saw Willow's hand tighten on the fabric of her skirts, the stake underneath the taupe material clutched in her fingers. The blood wouldn't hurt her, it was too small an amount, but Angelus likely would hurt her if she didn't just taste it.
She shook her head free of Angelus' hold and glared as he slid his finger between her lips. "There," she spat, turning her head to the side to remove Angelus' finger, "I tasted it, it was gross, now get away from me."
Spike groaned, knowing Angelus was getting angry at her. He didn't like being told what to do, or how to do things, and since meeting Willow she'd done nothing but order him around. Well, the Time Stabilizer had done some of that, but it'd done it through Willow. "Willow," he warned, shaking his head at her.
"Ah, Willow," Angelus said softly. "Now isn't that a sweet, precious name?" He moved behind her again, paying scant attention to anyone but himself and his own musings. "Now that I've decided to add you to the family," he told her, running a hand down her hair, "let's get started on the torture, shall we? I think first we'll begin with--"
Willow didn't let him finish, she was tired of being abused. She lifted her right hand, which was clutching the stake, and yelled, "Release!" turning and standing at the same time, stabbing Angelus in the arm.
Spike's chains dropped to the floor and he wasted no time in jumping to his feet and shaking off the remainder of the chains. Diving across the room, he planted a fist in Angelus' face as he jumped back up with a snarl.
Darla advanced on Willow as Angelus stumbled backward, grabbing his bloody arm. Willow swung the stake at Darla, scraping a line across her stomach, ripping the material of her gown and drawing blood.
"Bitch," Darla snarled, stalking toward Willow.
"Okay, that is it!" Willow yelled, holding her hands out toward Angelus as he climbed back to his feet. Green energy shot out from her hands, catching Angelus in the stomach, throwing him ten feet across the room to smack into the wall and drop to the floor. Shrugging her shoulders back, cracking her neck, she faced Darla, who'd stopped to look at Angelus.
"Hurry, Willow," Spike called to her, jumping at the door as it started to open. The goons were big, and burly, and three times as much flesh as he was, it wouldn't be long before they crashed into the room. "We've gotta go."
She turned to Darla, holding her hands out. He got a good look at her eyes, swirling blackness, just like the last time, only this was all her. Her magick. Bloody hell, what had she gotten into recently?
Another shot left her hands, tossing Darla into the far wall like a rag doll. She crumpled in a heap on the floor, blood running down her forehead, already forgotten as Willow turned toward him.
"Down," she told him, hardly waiting until he dove across the room before letting go a shot of energy. He landed on his side on the floor as the magick hit the door, exploding in all directions, blowing it to pieces.
A three-inch thick piece hit him in the thigh, leaving six inches of it sticking out from the bloody wound. At least another four inches were impaled in his leg. Hissing as pain burned through his thigh, he glanced toward Willow. She sent more magick soaring toward the vampires in the hall, her pleased smile scaring him a little.
He pushed himself into a partial sitting position, gritting his teeth as he wrapped his hand around the piece of wood. His grunt of pain was drowned out by the screams of the vampires as bright orange flames shot toward them, lighting them up like Roman candles.
He managed to move the wood in his leg an inch before needing to stop. Bracing himself in anticipation of the pain, he yanked the wood from his leg, shouting into the sudden, deafening silence. He sank back against the wall, dropping the bloody wood to the floor. Sweat dripped down his forehead and into the scratches on his cheek, stinging the flesh there.
"Spike?" Willow called to him, peering in his direction through the dust and smoke. She coughed a few times, waving her hand in front of her face. "Spike, where are you?" Her voice was panicked, her eyes searching desperately through the dim room. "Oh God, I didn't--"
"Here," he said, coughing a few times. The smoke was acrid and sour tasting as well as bitter and-- fleshy. She'd killed them all. "Here," he repeated, collapsing back against the wall.
She dropped to the floor beside him, her eyes wide and panicked, her breathing frantic. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--" her hands fluttered above the wound in his leg, not quite daring to touch it. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
She'd just murdered a dozen or more vampires and she was too squeamish to touch a little blood? He laughed, coughing from the smoke and ash fluttering around in the air. "I'm fine," he assured her, "help me up." Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he got his feet under him, keeping most of the pressure off his hurt leg.
A wailing sound began nearby and he had the odd thought that it was sirens from a fire truck, but of course, this was way before their time. The wailing turned into loud moaning, mournful and desperate. A figure appeared in the doorway, her hands, held out before her in a pleading manner, were filled with vampire dust.
"They're dead. They're all dead," she whispered, moaning louder. Her eyes stayed fast on Willow, her hands raised with the dust which fluttered to the ground and spread in the air. "You killed them." Her face turned, her eyes glowing in the darkened atmosphere of the room. "I--" she stopped, her eyes sliding in his direction, her head turning slowly.
His hand tightened on Willow's shoulder. She groaned a little and moved away, but he hardly noticed. Here then was his dark Goddess, beautiful and demented. His eyes washed over her, taking in every little detail, relishing this chance to see her before he was turned. This was a part of her he'd never gotten to know, or see.
"I know you," she whispered, her face returning to human, her eyes glazing over as she dropped her hands to her sides and moved toward him. The vampire dust fell to the floor, forgotten. Her lips turned up in a confused smile, her forehead wrinkling. "You were at my church."
Spike nodded, unable to think of a single thing to say. He'd seen her as a human, seen her just after being turned, but this again was a different incarnation of his beloved. She'd mellowed a little, and was more like the woman he'd fallen so deeply in love with.
He glanced sideways at Willow, watched as she moved out from under his arm, forcing him to stand on his own. He hobbled a little, and reached out a hand to catch himself on the wall. Willow looked down at the floor, then at Drusilla, but she didn't look at him.
He turned back to Drusilla, wondering why it bothered him so much that Willow was there to witness all this. She didn't want him, she'd proved that this morning. Proved she wanted a willing body to service her, and nothing more.
So, she could bloody well see this and more for all he cared.
Only, he did care, and he held back from moving closer to Dru. "Magick," he told her, keeping his eyes on Dru. Dru snarled and vamped out, reaching out for Willow when she was suddenly hit in the side of the head with a long piece of wood from the door. Dru growled and dove forward, grabbing Willow and pulling her close for another love bite. "I said use magick," Spike shouted, trying to yank Drusilla off of Willow.
"I can't," she yelled back, "I'm empty." She kept her hands between Dru and herself, pushing on the vampire's chest, keeping her at arm's length as Spike worked at pulling his lover free from... well, his other lover.
"Dru!" he snapped, furious with his lack of strength. He couldn't help Willow if Dru got her mouth on Willow's neck, there was no way he'd be able to stop that. Grabbing her arms from behind, he pulled with all his strength, finally succeeding in tearing her away from Willow. Willow was jerked forward as well and nearly fell before catching her footing.
"I'm hungry," Dru whimpered, pouting up at him from the floor. "Daddy said--"
"Daddy," Spike ground out, tossing a hateful glance in the direction Angel lay. "Daddy, daddy, daddy! Let me tell you something, Dru." He limped over to her and leaned down, yanking her up from the floor. "Your precious daddy is a--"
"Spike," Willow warned, "don't." She moved closer to him, staying out of reach of Drusilla, but close enough to touch him. She didn't though. She kept her hands completely to herself. "You can't warn her. You can't... change things."
Drusilla looked from one to the other, her whimpering growing louder. That sound had always annoyed him to a certain degree. He'd loved her with his entire being, would've died for her a hundred times over, but at times she got to be truly annoying.
He looked down at his love, then planted his fist in her face, setting her gently on the floor when she sagged in his hands. He smoothed a few strands of hair from her cheek, brushing it back before straightening up. "Let's go." He limped toward the door, moving as quickly as his leg would allow him.
Willow followed quietly behind, slipping under his arm without a word.
The hallway was scorched, the wallpaper and paint peeling up and singed, bubbling in a few places. Piles of dust lined the floor, spread throughout the hall all the way to the stairwell. Smoke and ash coated the railing, the steps, filtering down to the lower parts of the house. A small spot of the wall was burning slowly, creeping along the wall, bursting into flames as they descended the stairs.
Willow practically dropped him in her effort to snuff out the flames. She slapped her hands against the wall, burning herself in the process, but she only wiped her palms on her skirts, looking around with a sniffle once the flames were out. "I did it again." Her eyes dropped to the floor, her frown confused and worried.
Before he could ask her what she meant, they heard a cough in the distance, growing louder as they neared the bottom of the stairs. Willow stood straighter, looking for a weapon to protect them with. She grabbed a vase from a pedestal by the doorway. Spike chuckled as she raised it over her head threateningly, creeping forward.
"Human," he told her, his voice hoarse from all the smoke and dust he'd inhaled. "Servant girl." He limped toward the door, expecting her to follow, but he should've known better. Of course she'd run into the other room and help the girl.
He leaned against the wall, waiting for Willow to reemerge from the drawing room, helping her poor little human to safety. He couldn't begrudge her the compassion she had for others, after all, if she didn't feel things as deeply as she did, would she have ever looked twice at him? Ever come to think of him as a friend? Not likely.
Five minutes later, he was still waiting for her. He heard quiet voices, and what sounded like sniffling. Sighing in annoyance, he hobbled to the door, peering through the gloom to see them still on the floor where he'd first spotted the servant tied up. Willow was hugging the girl as she cried, trying to comfort her with a soothing hand down her back and soothing words in her ear.
Spike limped into the room, dropping down onto a settee nearby. "Willow, if you're done playing nursemaid, we've gotta go."
She raised her head from the girl's shoulder, but she didn't look at him. The girl pulled away from Willow, sniffling a few times as she glanced his way. She ran a nervous hand down her ratted hair, which was way beyond repair with the blood and knots in it. She tried to smooth it down though and ducked her head, darting her eyes toward him a few times.
"Thank you, Milady," she whispered to Willow, wiping her teary eyes. She turned to Spike, whispering loudly, in a confiding tone, "They were beasts, Milord. Monsters with horrid faces." She sniffed a few more times, sounding all wet and nasty, dripping with things better not thought about. "Thank you for rescuing us, Milord. My mistress wasn't home--"
Spike rolled his eyes, standing up slowly. "Don't thank me." He nodded his head toward Willow. "She's the one saving you."
The girl nodded, dropping her eyes to the floor, looking properly rebuked. "Yes, Milord."
"Stop calling me that," he sighed, leaving the room behind. Tossing a smirk back in Willow's direction, he hobbled in the direction of the large white door, which loomed in front of him a million miles away. "Come on, *My Lady*, we have to get out of here."
"We can't just leave her here," Willow protested, grabbing the girl's hand and pulling her with them. "Angelus and the others are still up there, still alive. And they're going to be extremely angry when they wake up."
"Then I suggest you send her on her way a little faster than you're doing," he said, rolling his eyes. Frowning at the door, which seemed to be moving further out of reach with every step, he ignored the pain in his leg and pushed himself to move faster.
The dark-haired girl shook her head, tucking the loose strands behind her ear with one hand. "I'm sorry, Milady, I can't leave. My mistress--"
"Yes, you can," Willow insisted, dragging the protesting girl behind her. "There are more beasts up there. And they'll kill you. After they torture you."
The girl shuddered, looking fearfully up at the second floor. "All right, Milady," she whispered, following behind Willow as they left the house behind.
PAIRING: W/S
RATING: Strong R (17/?)
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 17
"Red," a voice called impatiently. "Red!"
Willow lifted her head up to find herself in the Slayer's house with Angelus standing above her. "Angelus," she muttered, climbing to her feet to face him. She'd learned two things from her experience in the warehouse. One: She wasn't entirely helpless as long as she had her magick. And two: She preferred to meet death bravely rather than cowering in a corner.
If he wanted to kill her, he'd do it to her face.
Her memories from the dream were fading quickly, and the faster the better. She didn't like feeling that... out of control.
Angelus smirked at her, pacing back and forth slowly, like a soldier facing his troops. His hands were behind his back, his boots ringing loudly on the floor. A faint smell of leather rose from him, and she wondered at that. He wasn't wearing any. Horses maybe?
"Red-- what's your name?" he asked suddenly.
"Petunia," she told him, her eyes wide and innocent, her smirk just as big. She shrugged and inwardly patted herself on the back for the control she had over herself. As long as she kept control, she was okay. Things would be okay.
He reached out and grabbed her wrist, dragging her toward him slowly, drawing out her fear as he vamped out and snarled at her. "Your name--" he began, but then stopped with a sniff, looking down at her. "Your vampire's stench is all over you," he told her, snarling in disgust.
"My vampire?" she snorted, rolling her eyes. "William's not my vampire. He's *a* vampire. Big difference."
His amused smile lit up his face, his bright shiny white teeth flashing in the darkened room. "And who owns you, if not William?" he asked softly.
She frowned, backing away from him. "No one owns me. Look, I'm sorry if I offend you, but I didn't have time to bathe today... you know, with all the kidnaping and such." She shrugged in mock apology, forcing a smirk to her lips. "Just don't breathe too deeply and you should be fine."
He moved with her, his hand shooting out to wrap around her neck, tightening just enough to make breathing difficult. His thumb moved lightly against her skin, forcing a shudder from her. "You're not his whore then?"
She shoved his hands away from her and tried to pull away, but he held on, not letting her go anywhere this time. "I'm no one's anything," she bit out, her hard eyes boring into his. "What do you want?"
"Mm," he said absently, running his hand up to her jaw to hold her face still. Staring down at her, he vamped out. "Do you think they'll let me turn you? These powers speaking through you?" Pulling the collar of her gown away from her skin to look down at her breasts, he ignored her slapping hands again. "I think you'd make a nice little addition to our family."
His feral grin sent cold chills through her entire body.
________________________________________________
Spike looked up at the Slayer's house, noting the boarded-up windows. There were definitely vampires in there. If he hadn't felt them, the windows were all the proof he needed. Several heartbeats were inside as well, he just hoped one of them was Willow.
Striding up to the front door, he tried the knob, hoping to get in without being stopped. Odds were the vampires--new recruits since he'd killed their last minions--would think he was just one of the family. In keeping with Angelus' style, there were no vampire guards posted close to the house. Didn't want to draw attention.
Loud laughter and snarling met him with the opening of the door. The inside was mostly still intact, not trashed like most vampire lairs. Sconces and candles were lit across the foyer, along with a roaring fire in the drawing room off the hall. A group of ragtag vampires, looking no older than a week, sat around the drawing room, drinking whiskey and blood.
A servant girl huddled in one corner, her hands tied and her mouth gagged. Her long brown hair was hanging loose, her clothes torn in spots. Blood ran from the corner of her mouth and from somewhere in her hair, dripping down her forehead. Her large blue eyes found his, begging for help, not knowing he was just as much a monster as her captors.
She was scared to death and probably in pain, but he couldn't help her. Didn't know if he would even if he could. She was nothing to him.
Willow was his only priority. She was the one he'd come for, the one he wouldn't leave behind. The one he cared about.
If Angelus had touched her, hurt her in any way, Spike was going to kill him, no matter the future. Even as he thought it, he knew he was lying to himself. He couldn't jeopardize his own future for petty revenge.
Angelus had a habit of using women for either food or fun, and since he had a grudge with them, he was pretty sure Angelus would choose fun.
The wide staircase directly in front of the door seemed the best place to start. They would've put her somewhere she couldn't easily get to the ground from, in case the boarded-up windows didn't keep her in. Taking the stairs slowly, one at a time, so as not to draw attention, he ascended the circular staircase, listening for heartbeats and voices as he went.
He sniffed here and there, hoping to catch her scent. It was faint, but it was there. Too many other creatures in the place to pinpoint it, but he knew she was there. As he reached the top of the landing, Darla stepped out in front of him.
"Angelus was right," she said smugly, her eyes traveling over him with distaste. "You came for her. For a human."
"Sorry to disappoint you," he shrugged, taking the last step up, his hands fisting at his sides. Glancing away briefly, he looked down the long hall, hoping to see a sign of Willow's presence. He had to force himself not to kill Darla, the thorn in his side. Her manner was always so haughty, and she thought her word gospel. She thought she was better than everyone else and because of Cecily, he'd always had a problem with women like that.
"You're a disgrace to all vampires," she tossed at him, snarling her disgust like venom.
He laughed, hoping he was around to see Darla's face when she found out about Angel's soul. Maybe he'd ask Willow to take another little detour, just to see the smug smile scraped off Darla's face. "Yeah, you remember that in about... oh, twenty-eight years or so. Now," he said, shooting his hands out to grab her arms, "where is she?"
Darla inhaled, looking at him seductively, her laughter floating through the silent hallway. "I don't mind the pain." She moved closer to him as he tightened his hands around her arms.
Annoyance shot through him. Darla was always in his way, interfering and sticking her nose in where it didn't belong. She had meddled countless times in his relationship with Dru, who'd let herself sometimes be swayed by the older vampire. Darla was the epitome of everything he despised. He hated Darla as much as he loved Dru.
"Pain," he said absently, "funny you should mention that." He head-butted her with a grin. "Because, I don't mind doling it out." She reeled back with a gasp, not having expected the blow. Kicking her in the chest, he sent her flying backwards to land on her ass on the hall floor. "A good position for you," he told her snidely, "on the floor, groveling. I always knew I'd have you there one day."
She snarled and jumped up, diving at him. He sidestepped her and grabbed one of the railing posts, kicking at it to break it free. The wood splintered off in his hands, one end blunt, the other sharp and pointy. Handy, that.
She landed on her hands and knees near him, and was up again almost immediately. Holding the stake up at chest level, he grabbed her arm and spun her around, setting the stake against her chest.
"Now," he said softly, "where is that pesky human everyone seems to want to take from me?"
Darla glanced down at the stake and sighed, pointing toward the end of the hall. "Angelus is with her." She laughed lightly, her little-girl voice grating on his nerves. "He's teaching her a lesson. Or two," she chuckled.
Spike dragged her with him down the hall, keeping her prisoner in much the same way Buffy had once done to Dru in a far off bomb shelter in a far off town.
"Open it," he told her as they approached. He could hear voices inside and hoped that was a good sign. If she was talking, she was okay. He hoped. Angelus' lessons were always hard ones. Dru had lost a few of her marbles during some of those lessons. Spike himself had almost snapped a few times. Angelus liked pain even more than Darla, he especially liked to give pain, and human women had always been a favorite of his.
Darla reached out and turned the key, unlocking the door and twisting the knob. The door swung open slowly, revealing Willow on her knees with Angelus above her, his hand raised to strike her.
Stepping into the room, he kept his eyes on Angelus. He was the biggest threat. Darla was neutralized for the moment, not a huge threat without him screwing up big-time. Seeing Willow's eyes dart to him, he tilted his head to the side, acknowledging her as Angelus' hand dropped to his side. "Miss me, love?"
Relief shone in her eyes and she nodded and smiled widely. "Not one whit."
Spike chuckled, shoving his concern for her to the back of his mind. She looked fine. A single bite mark graced her neck, looking rather nasty, but she was okay. They'd get free, and then take off to the Great White North. Or the 1880's.
"Darla," Angelus said jovially, "I told you he'd come for her." He spun around, chuckling evilly.
Darla nodded, smiling too much for someone who was at the mercy of a stake. Angelus looked past Spike, toward the door. Too late, Spike realized there were vampires behind him. He spun around, shoving the stake into Darla's chest a ways, drawing blood, but not killing her. Two of the huge burly guys he'd seen downstairs with the servant girl moved forward and grabbed his arms, dragging him away from Darla.
His makeshift stake clattered to the floor as his arms were encased in the beefy hands of the vampires. His eyes followed it as it rolled toward Willow. She was watching the stake as well, with just her eyes, her head stayed high, her face blank. The stake came to rest by her calf, half-hidden under her skirts. While everyone's attention was on Spike, she slipped the stake further under her skirts, hiding it completely.
Angelus turned back to her suddenly, frowning. Spike kicked up a fuss, hollering and freeing himself briefly, knowing the pursuit of freedom was in vain. His efforts worked, drawing all attention away from Willow. She smiled a little in his direction, thanking him without words.
He freed his left arm when Angelus neared him, and punched the bastard in the face, glancing at Willow as Angelus's head snapped to the side. Angelus motioned toward the two goons. They tugged him in the direction of the lone chair in the room and quickly shoved him into it, using a set of chains on the floor beside the chair.
They wrapped the chains around his ankles and locked the short piece. Another was wrapped around each wrist, tethered to the chair arms. A bigger piece was wrapped tightly around his chest and around the back of the chair, locked with a click from behind him.
He was solidly stuck. Not going anywhere.
Once he was secured in the chair, Angelus hit him, landing a solid punch to Spike's right eye.
Vamping out, he growled at Angelus, working at his chains, trying to free himself.
Angelus moved behind him, spinning the chair in Willow's direction. "Now," he said with glee. "Let the show begin." He circled around Willow, his eyes promising horrible tortures, things she couldn't even begin to imagine. Things Spike knew all too well.
The thought of Angelus touching Willow at all had him forcing back fury, but knowing the things Angelus liked to do to women had him the smallest bit frightened. His eyes found Angelus'. "If you touch her, I'll kill you."
Willow frowned at him. Her brows dipped down minutely as her fingers clutched her gown. "Spike," she said loudly, shaking her head a little. "I mean William..." she rolled her eyes at herself. "Oh heck, I mean Spike. His name is Spike, okay everyone? Ooo," she waved her empty hands in the air in front of her, "now I've done it. Told the evil vampires your name. Now time's gonna spin wildly out of control and things will randomly explode."
Darla raised an eyebrow at Willow, her mouth twisting up in annoyance. "Can't we gag her?" she asked Angelus.
The two goons beside Spike shared a confused look, obviously more muscle than brains. Darla sighed at them, waving her hand toward the door. "You can go. But guard the door."
The burly guys showed no emotion on their stone faces as they left the room behind, shutting the door so hard it shook in its frame.
Testing the strength of the chains while Darla and Angelus stared at the door in annoyance, he felt them give only half an inch, not enough to free himself.
He caught Willow's eye and glanced down at the chains, moving his hands a little at the wrist. The chains clinked softly as he shifted.
Angelus, unaware of the silent exchange, slid his hand down Willow's shoulder, brushing her hair away from her neck. He leaned over to whisper in her ear, his eyes on Spike. "What do you say? Should we put something in your mouth to keep you quiet?"
Willow closed her eyes briefly, holding herself still. Spike could see the struggle it took for her not to stake Angelus. Not to go ballistic. A small shudder shook her body, but when her eyes opened, they were clear. She stared at the wall across from her, ignoring Angelus as much as she could.
"No?" he taunted, his fingers tightening on her jaw, turning her head roughly toward him. "Answer me, Red."
Willow fisted her hands at her sides, her eyes fastening on Angelus' face. "I told you not to call me that," she ground out.
"You're not exactly in a position to be giving orders." Shoving himself to his feet, he strode over to stand in front of Spike. "And what, pray tell, are you smirking about?" His fist shot out, catching Spike in the jaw.
"You," Spike answered, laughing at the dark-haired vampire as he moved his jaw back and forth. "I'm smirking at you." He leaned as far forward as he could, his tone conspiratorial, "You're letting a little human witch get the better of you." He relaxed back into his seat, glancing away as if bored. "You're pathetic."
"Oh, I'm pathetic," Angelus sneered, spinning back around toward Willow. "I'm not the vampire who risked his life to save a mortal. And I," he ground out, grabbing Willow's hair roughly, forcing her head back a small ways, "am not the one who whines when someone besides her vampire lover calls her a name that's apparently reserved only for him."
Spike shrugged lazily. "The lady's fond of me, I have no say in her affections." His eyes landed on Willow again, taking in the slight pink tint to her cheeks. "And I have no say in my own either," he said softly, more for her ears than Angelus'.
Willow's eyes lifted to his, ignoring Angelus' tight hold on her.
"Well," Angelus sneered, rolling his eyes, "isn't this sweet? Should we leave the two lovebirds alone, Darla?"
Darla snickered, striding toward Spike. She raised her fingers, wiping the blood from her chest. Her eyes dropped to the smear of blood on her fingers as she circled around him. Her other hand threaded through his hair, her nails scraping against his scalp as she jerked his head back.
"Ceiling could use a coat of paint," he remarked, turning his eyes to Darla.
She shoved her blood-coated finger between his lips and then pushed his head back down. He tried not to taste the blood, the powerful blood of his great-grand sire, but it was there, on his lips, his tongue, the corner of his mouth. His tongue darted out to lick at the blood, his eyes catching Willow's eyes as she hastily looked away.
"Oh," Darla gasped dramatically, "I think she's horrified." She viciously raked her nails down his cheek, licking her lips as small rivulets of blood welled up from the scratches. She swiped at it with her thumb and headed over to Willow. "Care for a taste, honey?"
"No, thanks," she said in disgust, turning her head away and keeping her mouth firmly closed.
Darla shrugged, sucking her thumb into her mouth, closing her eyes briefly as she tasted his blood. "Mmm," she moaned, "his blood is strong."
Angelus tossed him an irritated glance and swiped his hand at the blood on Spike's cheek. He shoved his finger into his mouth, rolling his eyes at Darla. "Tastes like blood to me," he muttered, "normal, weak blood."
Spike chuckled at him. "You said it, mate, not me."
Willow silently watched the exchange, her face expressionless.
Swiping more blood from Spike's cheek, making him feel like an all-you-can-eat buffet, Angelus shoved his finger toward Willow's lips. Once again, she turned her head away and clamped her lips shut. "That wasn't a suggestion," Angelus told her, pressing his thumb and forefinger into her cheeks to force her mouth open. "Come on, baby," he encouraged, "or I'll find something else to put in there."
Spike saw Willow's hand tighten on the fabric of her skirts, the stake underneath the taupe material clutched in her fingers. The blood wouldn't hurt her, it was too small an amount, but Angelus likely would hurt her if she didn't just taste it.
She shook her head free of Angelus' hold and glared as he slid his finger between her lips. "There," she spat, turning her head to the side to remove Angelus' finger, "I tasted it, it was gross, now get away from me."
Spike groaned, knowing Angelus was getting angry at her. He didn't like being told what to do, or how to do things, and since meeting Willow she'd done nothing but order him around. Well, the Time Stabilizer had done some of that, but it'd done it through Willow. "Willow," he warned, shaking his head at her.
"Ah, Willow," Angelus said softly. "Now isn't that a sweet, precious name?" He moved behind her again, paying scant attention to anyone but himself and his own musings. "Now that I've decided to add you to the family," he told her, running a hand down her hair, "let's get started on the torture, shall we? I think first we'll begin with--"
Willow didn't let him finish, she was tired of being abused. She lifted her right hand, which was clutching the stake, and yelled, "Release!" turning and standing at the same time, stabbing Angelus in the arm.
Spike's chains dropped to the floor and he wasted no time in jumping to his feet and shaking off the remainder of the chains. Diving across the room, he planted a fist in Angelus' face as he jumped back up with a snarl.
Darla advanced on Willow as Angelus stumbled backward, grabbing his bloody arm. Willow swung the stake at Darla, scraping a line across her stomach, ripping the material of her gown and drawing blood.
"Bitch," Darla snarled, stalking toward Willow.
"Okay, that is it!" Willow yelled, holding her hands out toward Angelus as he climbed back to his feet. Green energy shot out from her hands, catching Angelus in the stomach, throwing him ten feet across the room to smack into the wall and drop to the floor. Shrugging her shoulders back, cracking her neck, she faced Darla, who'd stopped to look at Angelus.
"Hurry, Willow," Spike called to her, jumping at the door as it started to open. The goons were big, and burly, and three times as much flesh as he was, it wouldn't be long before they crashed into the room. "We've gotta go."
She turned to Darla, holding her hands out. He got a good look at her eyes, swirling blackness, just like the last time, only this was all her. Her magick. Bloody hell, what had she gotten into recently?
Another shot left her hands, tossing Darla into the far wall like a rag doll. She crumpled in a heap on the floor, blood running down her forehead, already forgotten as Willow turned toward him.
"Down," she told him, hardly waiting until he dove across the room before letting go a shot of energy. He landed on his side on the floor as the magick hit the door, exploding in all directions, blowing it to pieces.
A three-inch thick piece hit him in the thigh, leaving six inches of it sticking out from the bloody wound. At least another four inches were impaled in his leg. Hissing as pain burned through his thigh, he glanced toward Willow. She sent more magick soaring toward the vampires in the hall, her pleased smile scaring him a little.
He pushed himself into a partial sitting position, gritting his teeth as he wrapped his hand around the piece of wood. His grunt of pain was drowned out by the screams of the vampires as bright orange flames shot toward them, lighting them up like Roman candles.
He managed to move the wood in his leg an inch before needing to stop. Bracing himself in anticipation of the pain, he yanked the wood from his leg, shouting into the sudden, deafening silence. He sank back against the wall, dropping the bloody wood to the floor. Sweat dripped down his forehead and into the scratches on his cheek, stinging the flesh there.
"Spike?" Willow called to him, peering in his direction through the dust and smoke. She coughed a few times, waving her hand in front of her face. "Spike, where are you?" Her voice was panicked, her eyes searching desperately through the dim room. "Oh God, I didn't--"
"Here," he said, coughing a few times. The smoke was acrid and sour tasting as well as bitter and-- fleshy. She'd killed them all. "Here," he repeated, collapsing back against the wall.
She dropped to the floor beside him, her eyes wide and panicked, her breathing frantic. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--" her hands fluttered above the wound in his leg, not quite daring to touch it. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
She'd just murdered a dozen or more vampires and she was too squeamish to touch a little blood? He laughed, coughing from the smoke and ash fluttering around in the air. "I'm fine," he assured her, "help me up." Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, he got his feet under him, keeping most of the pressure off his hurt leg.
A wailing sound began nearby and he had the odd thought that it was sirens from a fire truck, but of course, this was way before their time. The wailing turned into loud moaning, mournful and desperate. A figure appeared in the doorway, her hands, held out before her in a pleading manner, were filled with vampire dust.
"They're dead. They're all dead," she whispered, moaning louder. Her eyes stayed fast on Willow, her hands raised with the dust which fluttered to the ground and spread in the air. "You killed them." Her face turned, her eyes glowing in the darkened atmosphere of the room. "I--" she stopped, her eyes sliding in his direction, her head turning slowly.
His hand tightened on Willow's shoulder. She groaned a little and moved away, but he hardly noticed. Here then was his dark Goddess, beautiful and demented. His eyes washed over her, taking in every little detail, relishing this chance to see her before he was turned. This was a part of her he'd never gotten to know, or see.
"I know you," she whispered, her face returning to human, her eyes glazing over as she dropped her hands to her sides and moved toward him. The vampire dust fell to the floor, forgotten. Her lips turned up in a confused smile, her forehead wrinkling. "You were at my church."
Spike nodded, unable to think of a single thing to say. He'd seen her as a human, seen her just after being turned, but this again was a different incarnation of his beloved. She'd mellowed a little, and was more like the woman he'd fallen so deeply in love with.
He glanced sideways at Willow, watched as she moved out from under his arm, forcing him to stand on his own. He hobbled a little, and reached out a hand to catch himself on the wall. Willow looked down at the floor, then at Drusilla, but she didn't look at him.
He turned back to Drusilla, wondering why it bothered him so much that Willow was there to witness all this. She didn't want him, she'd proved that this morning. Proved she wanted a willing body to service her, and nothing more.
So, she could bloody well see this and more for all he cared.
Only, he did care, and he held back from moving closer to Dru. "Magick," he told her, keeping his eyes on Dru. Dru snarled and vamped out, reaching out for Willow when she was suddenly hit in the side of the head with a long piece of wood from the door. Dru growled and dove forward, grabbing Willow and pulling her close for another love bite. "I said use magick," Spike shouted, trying to yank Drusilla off of Willow.
"I can't," she yelled back, "I'm empty." She kept her hands between Dru and herself, pushing on the vampire's chest, keeping her at arm's length as Spike worked at pulling his lover free from... well, his other lover.
"Dru!" he snapped, furious with his lack of strength. He couldn't help Willow if Dru got her mouth on Willow's neck, there was no way he'd be able to stop that. Grabbing her arms from behind, he pulled with all his strength, finally succeeding in tearing her away from Willow. Willow was jerked forward as well and nearly fell before catching her footing.
"I'm hungry," Dru whimpered, pouting up at him from the floor. "Daddy said--"
"Daddy," Spike ground out, tossing a hateful glance in the direction Angel lay. "Daddy, daddy, daddy! Let me tell you something, Dru." He limped over to her and leaned down, yanking her up from the floor. "Your precious daddy is a--"
"Spike," Willow warned, "don't." She moved closer to him, staying out of reach of Drusilla, but close enough to touch him. She didn't though. She kept her hands completely to herself. "You can't warn her. You can't... change things."
Drusilla looked from one to the other, her whimpering growing louder. That sound had always annoyed him to a certain degree. He'd loved her with his entire being, would've died for her a hundred times over, but at times she got to be truly annoying.
He looked down at his love, then planted his fist in her face, setting her gently on the floor when she sagged in his hands. He smoothed a few strands of hair from her cheek, brushing it back before straightening up. "Let's go." He limped toward the door, moving as quickly as his leg would allow him.
Willow followed quietly behind, slipping under his arm without a word.
The hallway was scorched, the wallpaper and paint peeling up and singed, bubbling in a few places. Piles of dust lined the floor, spread throughout the hall all the way to the stairwell. Smoke and ash coated the railing, the steps, filtering down to the lower parts of the house. A small spot of the wall was burning slowly, creeping along the wall, bursting into flames as they descended the stairs.
Willow practically dropped him in her effort to snuff out the flames. She slapped her hands against the wall, burning herself in the process, but she only wiped her palms on her skirts, looking around with a sniffle once the flames were out. "I did it again." Her eyes dropped to the floor, her frown confused and worried.
Before he could ask her what she meant, they heard a cough in the distance, growing louder as they neared the bottom of the stairs. Willow stood straighter, looking for a weapon to protect them with. She grabbed a vase from a pedestal by the doorway. Spike chuckled as she raised it over her head threateningly, creeping forward.
"Human," he told her, his voice hoarse from all the smoke and dust he'd inhaled. "Servant girl." He limped toward the door, expecting her to follow, but he should've known better. Of course she'd run into the other room and help the girl.
He leaned against the wall, waiting for Willow to reemerge from the drawing room, helping her poor little human to safety. He couldn't begrudge her the compassion she had for others, after all, if she didn't feel things as deeply as she did, would she have ever looked twice at him? Ever come to think of him as a friend? Not likely.
Five minutes later, he was still waiting for her. He heard quiet voices, and what sounded like sniffling. Sighing in annoyance, he hobbled to the door, peering through the gloom to see them still on the floor where he'd first spotted the servant tied up. Willow was hugging the girl as she cried, trying to comfort her with a soothing hand down her back and soothing words in her ear.
Spike limped into the room, dropping down onto a settee nearby. "Willow, if you're done playing nursemaid, we've gotta go."
She raised her head from the girl's shoulder, but she didn't look at him. The girl pulled away from Willow, sniffling a few times as she glanced his way. She ran a nervous hand down her ratted hair, which was way beyond repair with the blood and knots in it. She tried to smooth it down though and ducked her head, darting her eyes toward him a few times.
"Thank you, Milady," she whispered to Willow, wiping her teary eyes. She turned to Spike, whispering loudly, in a confiding tone, "They were beasts, Milord. Monsters with horrid faces." She sniffed a few more times, sounding all wet and nasty, dripping with things better not thought about. "Thank you for rescuing us, Milord. My mistress wasn't home--"
Spike rolled his eyes, standing up slowly. "Don't thank me." He nodded his head toward Willow. "She's the one saving you."
The girl nodded, dropping her eyes to the floor, looking properly rebuked. "Yes, Milord."
"Stop calling me that," he sighed, leaving the room behind. Tossing a smirk back in Willow's direction, he hobbled in the direction of the large white door, which loomed in front of him a million miles away. "Come on, *My Lady*, we have to get out of here."
"We can't just leave her here," Willow protested, grabbing the girl's hand and pulling her with them. "Angelus and the others are still up there, still alive. And they're going to be extremely angry when they wake up."
"Then I suggest you send her on her way a little faster than you're doing," he said, rolling his eyes. Frowning at the door, which seemed to be moving further out of reach with every step, he ignored the pain in his leg and pushed himself to move faster.
The dark-haired girl shook her head, tucking the loose strands behind her ear with one hand. "I'm sorry, Milady, I can't leave. My mistress--"
"Yes, you can," Willow insisted, dragging the protesting girl behind her. "There are more beasts up there. And they'll kill you. After they torture you."
The girl shuddered, looking fearfully up at the second floor. "All right, Milady," she whispered, following behind Willow as they left the house behind.