A/N1: I know some of you are getting a bit impatient, waiting for the romance. I assure you, it's on its way. I just felt that Willow wouldn't dive into a new relationship right away after Oz left, especially with someone like Spike, so the friendship took precedence at first.

A/N2: If you can't tell from the references, the first half of this chapter is set immediately after 'Hush', and the second part is immediately after the events of 'Doomed'.

Chapter 7
Words of Anger

"Come on, vampires! Nasty! Let's annihilate them, for justice,
and for the safety of puppies, and Christmas, right?
Let's fight that evil! Let's kill something!...Oh, come on!"
- Spike, 'Doomed'

"…And then the soda machine went zooming across the room, and Bam!" Willow smashed her hands together for emphasis, "It was such a rush! I never knew magic could be like that!"

She was sitting with one ace-bandaged ankle propped up on the couch, an ice pack covering it. Couldn't be hurting her too much, Spike reflected, or she wouldn't have hobbled all the way over here.

'Here' was Xander's basement, the owner blessedly absent, over at the demon-girl's place. Giles had kicked Spike out not long after they'd all regained their voices, and he'd come back here, having no other option. Willow was currently regaling the vampire for the third time with the tale of her escape from the Gentlemen.

"Sounds like quite an adventure, pet," he observed, jollying her along, "Seems those lessons of yours are paying off."

"Oh, no. I've only just started. Mostly, I'm working on trances and concentration stuff," she waved away any thought that she was responsible, "It was Tara, she was great. Once we joined hands, it was like the power just tripled, or quadrupled! We worked so well together!"

Spike felt something deep inside him that couldn't possibly be jealousy. He chose to ignore everything but the first part of her statement. "Trances, love?"

"Yeah, I figured that would be best. In fact…" Her face lit up, eager at the thought of doing more magic, "Do you still have those ingredients?"

He smiled in triumph and went to fish them out of their hiding place. "Right here."

"Oh, good." She took the book from him and turned to the page he'd marked. A frown of concentration marred her brow as she read the spell through.

"Okay, the trance is fairly simple, but it'll take some time to achieve," she said, giving Spike a considering look, "A lot of time, hours maybe. And you can't disturb me, or it won't work."

" So I make myself scarce for a while."

She shrugged and nodded. "It's the best solution I can think of," she agreed, "I need you here to examine the spell, but if you distract me at the wrong moment…"

"I'll give you, what, say two hours or so?"

She nodded absently, already beginning to focus on the task at hand.

"Right, see you then. Good luck, pet."

"You too, Spike. Don't go getting caught or anything!"

Two hours later, he cautiously slipped back through the door, carrying a bag of groceries. He tiptoed past the witch sitting cross-legged on the floor and quietly started putting his blood in the fridge.

Willow's eyes snapped open, and he froze, worried that he'd ruined everything. Then he noticed the slightly unfocused look to her eyes as she slowly scanned the room. It had worked.

He made his way over to her and sat down. She stared at him intently for a long moment, then frowned and went back to surveying the room. He was about to say something when her attention came back to him. She stood and slowly circled him.

"I don't understand." Her voice had an oddly flat, dead quality to it, as if she was talking in her sleep.

"It didn't work?" Spike sighed, then tried to master his disappointment. "Well, no matter, we can try again another time," he said with forced cheer.

"No, it worked," her gaze drifted across the room again, "I can see…I did a locator spell for Xander, the other week. He lost his keys." She ran her fingers through something he couldn't see. "The traces are still here, and that was a short-term spell." Her gaze re-focused on Spike, "I don't see any traces of spells anywhere on you." She shook her head, breaking the trance and restoring clarity to her eyes and life to her voice, "I'm sorry, Spike, I don't know what to tell you. There's no spell."

"No spell…You don't mean – you can't mean that I'm doing this to myself?" Spike tried and failed to keep the rising panic out of his voice. He'd been so sure those bloody soldiers had been responsible, that it was a spell keeping him from doing violence. A spell that Willow, or some other witch, could break.

"Calm down, Spike. No, I don't think it's psychosomatic."

"Psycho…" he shook his head in confusion.

"Something you're doing to yourself. Let me think a minute. Maybe we're going at this all wrong."

"What else could it be?"

"Well, everything you've told me about these guys points towards the technological, not the mystical. Maybe it's not a spell, but a…a microchip, or something."

"A computer chip? In my brain? Sounds fairly science-fiction to me, pet."

She shrugged apologetically, aware of how far-fetched it sounded. "But then again, most people think vampires are just stories, too," she argued, "It must work like those dog collars, the ones that zap the dog when it barks. It probably shocks you each time you do something violent."

"Can you do anything about it?" he asked, turning desperate eyes to Willow. She shook her head, and his face fell.

"If I had it out of your brain, and had the right equipment, maybe I could figure out how it works."

"If you got it out of my head, pet, I wouldn't need to know how it works," he shrugged at her disgusted expression, unapologetic, "Magically maybe? Some variation on your little trance spell?"

"I just don't know, Spike. I could research it, but…" she trailed off, clearly uncertain as to how much she should promise him.

"But you won't," Spike finished flatly. The bitterness of disappointment welled up inside of him. It was all for nothing, he thought angrily, all the flattery and attention, all the time wasted for nothing.

"I'm just worried about messing around with something I don't really understand. I could make a mistake and fry your brain."

"No, you're just afraid to do anything without a say-so from your precious Buffy," he spat, no longer concerned with preserving his friendship with the redhead. All he wanted was to spread around some of his pain and disappointment.

"That's not true, Spike!"

"I think it is. I think the Slayer's trusty sidekick wouldn't do a thing without getting permission from the hero of the piece. Or her Watcher."

That got the reaction Spike was looking for, both anger and tears. "I'm not a sidekick!"

"Oh, you play a major part, do you?" he mocked

"I do! I'm part of a team. We fight the forces of evil!"

"Buffy fights the forces of evil. The rest of you are just her groupies," he countered, sneering.

"Why are you being so mean to me?" Willow demanded.

"Truth hurts, doesn't it?" he jeered.

"Well, here's some truth for you, William," she spat back, "I'll never do a spell to free you from that chip. Neither will anyone else. You're doomed to live the rest of your unlife like this!" Willow turned and limped out the door without another word.

Spike sat back to enjoy his triumph, but his thoughts were uneasy as he considered the witch's parting shot. Was he going to stay trapped like this, forever? Surviving solely on the charity of the Slayer and her pals? Stuck living in Xander's basement, of all places? For the first time since his escape from the Initiative, he actually pictured his future in this new 'chipped' state. It made for unpleasant thinking.

Willow would much rather have been watching television. In fact, she would have preferred to be doing just about any activity other than the one she was currently engaged in. After a few nights of finding dead guys at parties, hunting for the Word of Valios, chasing apocalyptic demons, and basically keeping the world from ending, she felt she deserved some serious down time. It was not to be.

"Come on, Red, hurry up!" Spike was practically skipping with excitement down the graveyard drive. Willow followed behind much more reluctantly. "There's usually at least one or two vamps hiding out in here, most nights," he added, gesturing in the direction of the crypt they were headed towards.

Willow sighed, took a firmer grip on her stake, and hurried her steps a little. She didn't want to be here. Not after the things he'd said the other day. The only reason she'd agreed to come along at all was to shut him up. It didn't seem to be working.

She supposed she shouldn't be too surprised at Spike's rapid change in mood. The formerly suicidal vampire was now bouncing with enthusiasm, having been given a new lease on unlife with his discovery that he could hurt and kill demons. So now she was stuck vampire-hunting with him, despite her better judgment.

She was angry at Spike, angry and hurt by his callous comments. Bad enough to overhear the chance remarks of a former classmate at a party. It was worse to have someone like Spike, someone she was starting to get really close to, say things like that directly to her face. And he didn't even seem to notice, or care! Willow was furious.

She stomped into the crypt, ready to have it out with the bleached blond right there. She never got the chance. Spike had been right, and they'd just walked into a nest of three vampires. Two of them immediately headed for Willow as being the easier prey.

"Spike!" she yelped in panic. Spike glanced over, and lazily grabbed the shirts of both his opponent and one of the ones attacking her. He pulled, clonking their heads together, then began gleefully pummeling both of them.

Willow wasn't doing so well. She was managing to hold off the vampire, keep him from biting her, but she couldn't get her arm free to get her stake in position, either. The sound of first one, then another vamp turning to dust made her glance over towards Spike.

He was sitting on one of the stone coffins, casually having a smoke, and watching her. Great, she thought, he's brought me here just to watch me get killed! The pain of betrayal washed over her, but despite that she still called to him desperately, "Spike, help me!"

To her great surprise, he immediately came over and staked the vampire she'd been grappling with. Then he sat back down and resumed his smoke. She dropped her stake wearily.

"Why did you do that?" she accused.

"You asked me to."

"No, why did you just sit there, you could see I was in trouble!"

"Didn't want to interfere with your fight. Figured you were toying with him, waiting to make your move."

"My move? Spike, I'm not the Slayer. I have no moves. I'm moveless! That was me fighting for my life there."

"Which brings us to the next question: why did you do that, pet?" He calmly ground out his cigarette and looked at her.

"Do what? Not give you the satisfaction of watching me die?"

"Close with him." Her confusion must have shown on her face, because he clarified, "Why did you attack him up close, physically? You said it yourself, you're not the Slayer. You couldn't possibly have thought you could take him on like that."

"Then why on earth did you drag me along, Spike?" she sputtered in frustration, "You know I can't fight a vamp myself, why did you make me come with?"

"I thought you'd keep your head enough to use magic, love. A little levitation, some of that trick you used on that soda machine, and they'd never get near you." He shook his head in disgust, "That was really rather stupid of you."

It was the last straw. Willow felt the bottled-up anger rising inside her, felt the corresponding surge of magical power flow through her too. "Magic? You want to see magic?" Her eyes darkened completely, both iris and pupil going jet black. She threw her hands open at Spike, sending him flying back against the far wall. She held him pinned there, motionless, while she began levitating her fallen stake.

"Do you want to see me dust a vampire, Spike?" she gritted through clenched teeth, her anger barely under control as she brought the tip of the wooden shaft to press against Spike's chest. "Do you?"

Spike swallowed hard. "Only if it's that one, love," he managed, using his chin to point somewhere behind her.

At first she thought it was a trick, but then she heard the scuff of a shoe on the concrete floor. She whirled, bringing the stake around with her, took aim and hurled the tiny spear full-force at the new vampire just entering the crypt. Guided by magic, it hit its target perfectly, sending another shower of dust to the crypt floor.

She paused, panting slightly from the effort. That had felt good. She had been too angry to be scared, and now she was left with a sense of satisfaction and a bit of an adrenaline rush. She liked the feeling.

"Come on, Spike," she said with a grin, loosing his bonds without looking around, "Let's go kill some vampires."

Spike stumbled a little, not expecting to be released so soon. His eyes followed the departing witch, amazed. His mind was whirling. He'd never been as exhilarated and, yes, he'd admit it, terrified at once. Not even the memory of facing down his first Slayer could compare. He'd felt in control then, knew what the outcome would be, with all the cocky arrogance of youth. But Willow… For a few moments there, he'd been utterly uncertain of the outcome. A delighted shiver ran through him at the thought of being completely at her mercy like that, and he wondered at the reaction.

He smiled slowly as it came to him. He'd sensed potential in the little chit before – potential beauty, potential sensuality, great potential for magic – but he'd never known, never even guessed, at the amazing potential for darkness inside her. What a vampire she'd make, he thought to himself, panting in reaction – some habits never died. What a pair we'd be! The things we could accomplish together. He smirked in the darkness as he continued to imagine it all. The things we could do to each other…That cinched it. He had to have her. Somehow, some way, he'd turn her. It would be as good as stalking a Slayer – better, because the reward would last an eternity.

"Spike, are you coming?" The voice outside was impatient. He bit his tongue to keep from actually saying his first response. He'd have to be careful, even subtle, if he wanted this to work.

"On my way, love," he finally managed to respond. She'd be his, he was sure of it. It was only a matter of time, and he had all the time in the world.