Chapter 12
Stolen Dreams

"I gave her everything: beautiful jewels, beautiful
dresses, with beautiful girls in them"
-Spike, 'Lover's Walk'

Willow looked around, suitably impressed. She had a feeling that the hotel room she was standing in was actually fairly standard, but it had been a long time since she'd been on an overnight trip. Childhood memories paled next to the reality of her own, personal hotel room, far from Sunnydale.

She hadn't know what to expect when Spike's foil-covered DeSoto had pulled up at the curb at noon. In fact, her bag was probably twice or three times the size it needed to be, because she had wanted to be ready for anything. Spike had grumbled, but she told him in no uncertain terms that it was all his fault for not telling her where they were going. In fact, he still refused to tell her until they were an hour or more on the road.

Willow's eyes sparkled at the memory of him finally revealing their destination. San Francisco! She'd never been there before, and she wanted to see all of it. Plus, Spike still had something up his sleeve. Willow knew from her hints that he had more planned for this trip than just a sight-seeing excursion.

A knock at the connecting door between their rooms brought Willow back to the present. She hurried to let Spike in.

"How's the room, ducks?" he inquired.

"It's wonderful," she gushed, still excited by the adventure she was on.

"It was the best I could do," Spike admitted, "I'm glad you like it."

"Now will you tell me why we're here?" she cajoled.

"You are here to enjoy yourself…" he began

"No, Spike, really. Please tell me!"

"Well, tomorrow during the day, you are free to see the sights and, as I said, enjoy yourself," he paused before continuing, "But in the evening, I was hoping you'd do me the honor of accompanying me?"

He held out two tickets, and Willow seized them eagerly. One look was enough to send her into the stratosphere again.

"La Bohème! Oh, Spike, thank you!" She whirled around the room in excitement, until a sobering thought struck her.

"I don't have anything to wear," she said with growing horror, seeing her night of joy slip out of reach. She glared at the large bag on her bed, filled with clothing to deal with anything… anything but this.

"Remember how you asked me about those garment bags I had in the car?" Spike asked, smiling a little. "Well, one of them is for you, princess." He went back into his room to fetch it. "Here, try it on for size. We can get a tailor up here if it doesn't fit."

Willow took the bag from Spike, then stared at him pointedly.

He coughed slightly. "I'll just wait in there, then, shall I?" he said, before disappearing into the other room and closing the door.

She settled the garment bag on the bed and unzipped it, eager to see what it contained. She gasped in amazement, then hurried to try the dress on.

She paused before her mirror and stared. She was wearing a long, sleeveless sheath dress made of dark green satin. There was a small slit in the side, and the dress flared at the bottom into a small train. It was slightly too tight for her, but that was all to the good, in Willow's eyes, as it merely accentuated her figure. For a long time, she stood staring at herself, until a knock at the door reminded her of Spike's presence.

"You can come in now, Spike," she announced.

Spike entered carrying a pair of high heels. "These should fit," he said as he offered them.

Willow tried them on. With the shoes, she looked even more elegant. Spike whistled in approval.

"Very nice, love. You'll knock 'em dead tomorrow night. I'll be right proud to have you on my arm."

"Thank you so much, Spike," Willow said, giving him a quick hug. "You didn't have to do all this," she protested.

"Nonsense," he replied calmly. "I just like seeing you smile, princess. Besides, I think you deserve a weekend away from it all."

"It has been a rather tough first semester," Willow agreed, more than willing to justify their little excursion. She looked out on the night skyline and added, "I can't wait to see the city tomorrow!"

"Speaking of tomorrow, this is for you," Spike said, handing her a substantial wad of cash.

Willow was confused. "What's this for?"

"Spending money, in case a trinket or two catches your eye."

"I couldn't, Spike. I do have my own money."

"I said 'all expenses paid' and I meant it," he persisted, shoving the money into her hand.

"But Spike, I couldn't spend your money."

"Take it with you, anyway, just in case. Things might be more expensive than you thought they'd be. Besides, I want you to spend it. It's time to indulge a little, right?" Spike coaxed.

"Fine, I'll take it with me, but I won't spend it," Willow stated firmly, or tried to, but a mammoth yawn interrupted her.

"Guess you'd better get some rest, princess," Spike said, leaning over to kiss her lightly on the cheek. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Spike. Sweet dreams," Willow called after him as he headed into the next room.

Willow was up early the next day. She grabbed a quick breakfast and a handful of brochures from the lobby, and headed out into the morning. She couldn't see everything, unfortunately, so she pared her trip down quickly to the few things she wanted to see the most.

Fisherman's Wharf was her first stop, as it was just a few blocks from the hotel. She enjoyed several hours wandering around, taking in the sights, browsing the shops, and buying souvenirs for Buffy and the others. She spent more than she intended to, and realized with dismay that she would have to dig in to Spike's money in order to visit her next stop.

Rationalizing to herself that travel expenses were part of her 'all expenses paid' trip, she handed over the fare for her cable car ride. It was a little cliché, she knew, but she couldn't pass up the opportunity to try something so well-associated with the city. Plus, it was the best way to get to her destination.

She rode the car to the end of the line, then struggled to locate the Museum of Modern Art. Her map said that it wasn't that far, but the reality of busy city streets made it difficult to find.

Finally, she located the building, but found to her dismay that admission was nearly twice what she'd expected. Sunnydale's museums were much cheaper. Out came Spike's stash again, as Willow was too determined after her struggle to give up on visiting that easily. I'll pay him back, she told herself as she got her ticket and went in.

Now was the moment when Willow was glad that she was alone. She could think of no one among her friends who would be comfortable at a modern art exhibit. She was spared the snarky remarks and asinine questions, and could just experience the art. She wandered the galleries in a happy dream, until the rumbling of her stomach recalled her to the passing of time.

Once more, Willow found it easy to rationalize another expenditure, this time for food. She ate a quick lunch and headed out into the city once more.

It was in Chinatown where Willow finally met her defeat. One of her first stops was a Chinese apothecary, and there in the front was a sign proclaiming: "Ylang-ylang, ½ price". It was a bargain price for the expensive oil, and the Wiccan in Willow just had to have it for her spell-casting.

Gone were the rationalizations, the offers to repay what she was using. Spike had intended for her to spend the money, and that was what she was going to do. The ylang-ylang went into her shopping basket, and so did quite a few other herbs and oils.

Exiting the store with her purchases, Willow found herself with a new sense of freedom. She could buy whatever she liked, so long as the money held out. Bursting with enthusiasm, Willow began to shop in earnest.

An hour or so later, Willow put her feet up in a small corner restaurant and sighed happily. She sipped her wonton soup and surveyed her purchases. A few canisters of tea, a carved wooden fan, a faux-jade carving for Spike, and several Mandarin-style blouses and dresses. She'd had just enough left over for this little snack and the trip back to the hotel. She couldn't wait to show Spike what she'd bought.

Thinking of Spike reminded her of their evening plans. Checking her watch, she quickly paid for her soup and gathered her things together. She had just enough time to get back to the hotel and get ready.

Willow finished with her makeup and sat staring at her reflection, happily musing about the wonders of their excursion so far. And the best is yet to come, she thought, smiling to herself. A knock on the connecting door startled her out of her daydreams.

"Come in," she called gaily.

Spike entered the room in a nicely fitting black tuxedo. Willow's jaw dropped.

"Wow, Spike. You look…wow," was all she could manage.

"You didn't think I was going to the opera in jeans and a t-shirt, did you? No, tonight it's top hat and tails."

"You have a top hat?" she asked eagerly.

"Figure of speech, love. And you," he continued, coming around to stand behind her chair, "You look absolutely stunning."

Willow looked at herself in the mirror. Alone in the mirror. It was rather disconcerting, knowing Spike was right there, but not being able to see him.

"Actually," he mused, almost whispering in her ear now, "I believe there is something missing."

She turned to look at him questioningly, but he just gestured for her to look into the mirror once more. Willow scanned her reflection nervously, searching for something that was missing or out of place.

It was like a conjurer's trick, when it happened. One minute, her neck was bare. The next moment, a beautiful jeweled necklace appeared in the mirror, as Spike fastened it around her throat. His hands had concealed its reflection until the last minute.

Willow sat speechless as she stared at the beautiful creation encircling her neck, the emeralds and diamonds flashing and sparkling in the light. It was real; she could feel the cold weight of it against her skin. But how? How had Spike managed it?

"Spike, no, I couldn't. It's too much," she protested, still somewhat in shock.

"You don't like it, princess?" Spike sounded puzzled.

"It's gorgeous, but that's not the point. I can't take a gift that's this expensive. I don't see how you could possibly afford it."

Her voice trailed off, then, as suddenly she did see. She knew with certainty how Spike had acquired the necklace, and everything else.

"You stole it," she accused flatly.

"Liberated it," he countered calmly. "Freed it from a fate worse than death. You should have seen the old bat that was wearing it."

"It's stolen property," she maintained, ignoring his remark, "The necklace, the dress, the tickets, all of it!"

"Hey, I paid good money for that dress," Spike protested.

"Money that you stole," Willow spat.

"Well, yeah," he responded, as if it were obvious, "I'm a vampire, love. I can't earn money any other way."

"Buffy and Giles pay you to work for them."

"And they pay me what? Enough for blood and smokes? Just barely. Nothing left over for a trip like this. I wanted to take you to the opera. And more than that, I wanted to show you the world."

Willow was not completely immune to this sentiment. She'd wanted to see the world, too. She'd wanted to believe that Spike could give it to her, magically. Now, faced with the reality of the situation, Willow was ending up at war with herself once again.

"They look so good on you," Spike coaxed, as Willow stared into the mirror at her stolen finery. The vampire's fingers traced lightly across her skin, following the outlines of the necklace. The unseen, ghostly touch made her shiver pleasantly, and she fought to ignore it.

"They look right, as if they belonged on you," he continued, his voice still a whisper in her ear, "It couldn't hurt to wear them just once."

Willow opened her mouth to protest, but Spike forestalled her.

"The money for the dress, the tickets, all the rest, we can't return them. We've got to use them tonight, or they're wasted, no good to anyone. But the necklace…the necklace, I know who it belongs to. We can return it as soon as we're back in Sunnydale," he offered.

Willow considered this gravely, toying with the necklace as she thought. Spike's phantom caresses continued, distracting her further.

"You mean…" she began.

"I mean you should wear it tonight, the whole lot – dress, shoes, necklace – and come to the opera with me. We may as well use what we have. For one night, we'll pretend it's all ours. Then tomorrow we'll worry about what's right."

"And we'll return the necklace?"

"If you want to, we can," Spike confirmed.

Willow turned back to her reflection, chewing lightly on her bottom lip as she puzzled over the ethics of the situation.

"Just one night, princess. Let's live the fairytale for one night. Cinderella can return her borrowed jewels tomorrow."

"They're not borrowed, they're…"

"Shh," He put a finger to her lips. "Tomorrow. We'll deal with it tomorrow. Tonight, let's go to the opera."

Willow was torn. She wanted to do the right thing, to refuse these stolen goods, but a big part of her wanted this night, wanted to go to the opera in her beautiful dress and shining jewels. Could it really hurt to wait one day? It wasn't like she was going to get caught. They were in San Francisco, miles away from the owner.

"It's just one night, princess," Spike murmured in her ear again.

Princess. Yes, she would be a fairytale princess for one night. For one night she just wouldn't think about any of it, and she'd put it right in the morning. It couldn't hurt to wait, could it? Tonight she'd let Spike show her the world.