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Pet

part one

She struggled, pulling at the metal studded dog collar buckled tight around
her throat. She hated that collar and hated the leash that was clipped to
it. So she struggled, even though it was useless to pull against the
leather and the strength of the hand that so carelessly held the other end
of the leash. But struggling was all she had left.

““Come on, Pet. I ain’’t got all day.”” The command was accompanied by a
jerk to the leash that send her stumbling down the stairs behind him so
that as she fell hard against him, her tired body sliding down to rest
against his legs. ““Stay”” he ordered.

Curling up on the cold concrete floor, she stayed. She knew better than to
move. Knew better than to look up at him. Knew better than to let the
other vampires in the room see the bubbling hate in her eyes. But most of
all, she knew better than to look in the direction of the other two humans
who shared this room. For them, she defied the leash and the collar and
the vampires.

Raising her head she met the haunted gazes of Buffy and Giles from where
they stood chained against the far wall. She read the horror in their
eyes as they saw her, saw the bruises and bites that decorated her body,
saw her hacked off, ragged hair, and saw the leash and collar that bound
her.

Her defiance lasted only a moment before her master caught her, as she’’d
known he would. She didn’’t even flinch as he cuffed her, knocking her flat
against the ground. This time she kept her eyes averted.

““Keep, you eyes down where they belong, little witch, or I’’ll pluck ‘‘em out.””

Studying the scuffed and weathered concrete beneath her with fixed
determination, she murmured a quiet, ““Yes, Master.”” As the other vampires
in the room laughed, she closed her eyes and focused on the hate.

*****

Satisfied that his new pet was showing the proper respect, Spike turned to
survey the half-dozen vampires that lounged around the room. Briefly his
eyes traveled over the Slayer and her Watcher. He noted the thickness of
the chains that bound them to the wall. They were taking no chances. Her
could see fresh tears on her cheeks, slowly soaking into the gag that kept
her silent. When she lifted her eyes from his pet’’s huddled form, the hate
there was almost a physical blow.

But even her hate was nothing to the rage in the eyes of the Watcher. If
Buffy’’s eyes promised Spike’’s death, the Watcher’’s promised a slow and
agonizing one.

““Spike,”” a cheerful voice called from the other side of the room.
Turning from the Slayer and the Watcher, he headed over to the vampire
who’’d called him.

““Blake.””

His own tone was noncommittal, neither friendly nor unfriendly. Blake was a younger vampire, new to command of his own clan. Spike was older, his
status as a Master vampire secure, but he was a guest in another master’’s
lair. That called for a semblance of courtesy.

““So, what can I do for you, Spike?”” Blake tried for nonchalance, but Spike
could hear the nervousness in his voice.

Spike grinned in amusement. Blake had good reason to be nervous. As a
Master Vampire he could chose to challenge Blake for the leadership of his
little clan and try to take the Slayer. However, considering how much this
clan had staked on the Slayer, he’’d probably have to fight them all, which
didn’t make for good odds as far as he was concerned. This little band had
a lot resting on this. Blake and his band were too young yet to have
earned a reputation in the demon community. Their upcoming sacrifice of
the Slayer and her Watcher on the Eve of Blood would make that reputation.
Digging out a cigarette and his lighter, Spike wandered over to the two
chained prisoners. ““Well, mate, it’’s like this, I’’ve been fighting this
particular Slayer off and on for two years now. She and her little friends
were a constant thorn in my bleedin’’ side. She’’s spoiled my plans, dropped
a fucking organ on my head, and all and all ruined a perfect good time.””
Lighting his cigarette his blew a cloud of smoke into the Watcher’’s face
and grinned in appreciation as the Watcher’’s eyes narrowed in impotent rage.
Turning back to his audience he continued, ““But now you’’ve got the Slayer
and her Watcher. And funny thing, the Eve of Blood is just around the
corner.””

A vampire leaning again one wall made an excellent show of confusion.

““What’’s the Eve of Blood?””

Spike pinned him with a look. ““Don’’t blow smoke up my ass, junior.””
Taking another drag on his cigarette, he continued. ““I’’ve always been a
bit fascinated with the old ways -- tradition, don’’t you know. Not many
know of the Blood Ritual because it’’s damnably hard to catch a Slayer and
her Watcher and keep ‘‘em alive long enough to perform the rite. The Eve of
Blood is in 8 days. You’’re gonna sacrifice those two,”” he added with a
jerk of his thumb in the direction of the captives, ““mix their blood and
have yourself a Slayer/Watcher cocktail, complete with transference of
their strength into you.”” Spike threw himself down into a chair and
propped his feet up on the table as the vampires milled around nervously.
Finally, Blake stopped them with a curt gesture. ““The Slayer and the
Watcher are ours. We caught them. We’’ve kept them alive. You may be
older but you’’re outnumbered here.”” There was no mistaking the threat in
his voice or the glitter of gold in his eyes.

Spike laughed and used his feet to tilt his chair back, the perfect picture
of unconcerned ease. ““Not to worry, mate. I’’m not here to try to take
‘‘em. They’’re your catch. Besides, I’’ve already had two Slayers. Three
would just be gettin’ greedy.”” Removing his feet from the table, he let
the chair’’s front legs hit the ground with a bang that startled everyone in
the room. ““I just want to be around for the bloodletting.””

Blake studied Spike and considered. Spike was dangerous, unpredictable and
uncontrollable. But to have a vampire of Spike’’s reputation in his little
clan, with Spike acknowledging his leadership, would increase his own
reputation enormously. Spike’’s presence brought certain advantages and it
wouldn’t do to make an enemy of him. At least, not before he was strong
enough to take him in a challenge. Still considering, he indicated the girl
on the floor, ““What about her?””

““My little pet?”” Getting up from his chair, Spike walked over to Willow.
Crouching down he ran one hand along her hair, stroking her in an obscene
parody of petting an animal. ““When you took the Slayer and Watcher you
missed her in your little rampage.””

He suddenly knotted his fingers in her shorn hair and jerked her head up so
she was looking at the vampires gathered around the table. ““She’’s the
Slayer’’s pet witch. Or more precisely, she *was* the Slayer’’s pet witch.
Now, she’’s just my pet.”” Tilting her head so she stared up at him, he
added, ““Isn’’t that right, sweet?””

At her stammered acknowledgment he leaned forward and placed a brutal kiss
against her bruised lips before letting her head fall back down to the
ground amid the laughter of the gathered vampires.

““Little witch thought she could threaten me with restoring my soul. Now I
get the joy of stripping hers, one exquisitely painful piece at a time.
And watching the Slayer and the Watcher die is going to be very painful
indeed.””

Blake grinned, having Spike as a guest was going to be fun. Decision made,
he snapped his fingers at one of the younger fledglings. ““Get us something
to drink, preferable fresh and young. It’’s time to celebrate and honor our
newest guest.””

Spike marginally relaxed as he was accepted into the group. With blood and
alcohol flowing freely, he called his pet to his side. She was tired, cold
and undoubtedly hungry, but she made no sound as she settled herself on the
floor at his feet. A few minutes later he snaked down one hand to rest
upon her head. Idly running his hand through her hair, he fingered her
cropped locks. Under the soothing caress of his hand he felt her finally
relax. With a soft sigh she leaned against his legs to wait out the night
as those at the table spent their evening in drink and hair-raising tales
of torture and death.

Dawn found them still seated around the table, empty liquor bottle
scattered around and the remains of a card game spread across the table.

““So, Spike,”” Blake’’s second, a large, greasy looking vampire with the
unlikely name of Hick began, draining the last of the whiskey in his cup,

““why don’’t you throw your little pet into the pot?””

He felt Willow stiffen against his legs, the first sign of movement from
her in hours. He’’d begun to think that she’’d fallen asleep. He should
have known better. Stretching to work out the kinks developed in a night
of sitting, he caught the eye of the Watcher across the room. He noted
absently that the Slayer seemed to be asleep in her chains. He watched,
amused, as the Watcher strained against his bonds. This was almost to
easy. Nothing like a little mental torture to end the evening.

Speaking to Hick, but keeping his eyes locked with the Watcher’’s, Spike
growled low in his chest. ““My pet is mine and mine alone -- body, mind and
soul -- to do with as I please.””

He swung his gaze away from the Watcher and over to Hick. ““Touch her
without permission and I’’ll stake you myself.””

Silence hung in the room, until Blake cleared his throat trying to ease the
sudden tension. ““Isn’’t that a bit much? She’’s only a human after all.””

““Her suffering is for my enjoyment alone.”” He swung his gaze around to the
others, letting them see their death in his eyes. ““She will not be touched.””

““Sure, Spike. Your pet is yours alone.”” Standing suddenly, he stretched
his arms wide. ““It has been a long night and the sun is coming up. I
suggest we sleep. Come on and I’’ll show you to your room.””

Blake lead them away from the common room and then down a long hallway
until they came to a door at the far end. ““Guest accommodations,”” he said
with a grin.

Opening the door Spike stepped inside, tugging sharply on the leash to pull
Willow in behind him. The room was larger than he expected it to be.
Simply furnished -- bed, table, dresser, a couple of chairs. He could see
a connecting door leading to a bathroom. The room would do nicely for his
needs. Tossing a casual ““Thanks, mate,”” at the other vampire, he closed
the door.

Blake stood listening on the other side of the door. He grinned as his
patience was rewarded a few seconds later when something heavy landed hard
against the door, making it shiver in its frame.

From the other side he heard Spike growl, ““So, slut, trying to attract
another one, are you?””

Her voice soft with fear, he heard her stammered, ““P-Please Master. I
d-didn’’t.””

““Don’’t lie to me, my little bitch. You think you can get Hick to fight me
for you? You think he’’ll set you free? Or maybe just give you your death?
Think again. You’’re mine.””

Blake felt his own arousal as he heard the human begin to sob, tears making
her voice husky.

““No, please, Master. Don’’t. I’’ll be good. I promise.””

The laugh that answered her was cold enough that even Blake felt its chill
through the heavy door.

““Oh, you’’ll be good, pet, of that I have no doubt. Now get to your knees
like a good little dog.””

The girl’’s broken sobs continued for a few moments more only to be abruptly
cut off. Blake chuckled, his imagination filling in the reason why her
sobs had stopped. Reaching down he rubbed his own half-erect cock. Maybe
he ought to find himself a nice human pet. Still chuckling, he headed back
down to the hall to his own rooms.

*****

Vivid imagination notwithstanding, Blake could never have conjured the true
scene on the other side of the closed door. The body that had slammed
against the wood was Spike’’s, who was currently wearing a grin of malicious
humor, as he listened to Blake’’s retreating footsteps down the hall.
Willow was not kneeling, nor did her eyes reflect the fear contained in her
voice. Instead, there was captured there an emotion more akin to Spike’’s
deviltry than to any terror. Her bearing was straight and bore no relation
to the cowering slave that had been in the common room earlier. The only
thing that connected this Willow to the cowering girl known simply as ““Pet””
was the dog collar that still encircled her neck and the leash that lay
like a thin leather snake down the front of her body.

““Wanker’’s gone.”” Spike finally said, as he pushed himself away from the door.
At his words an almost imperceptible shiver traveled down her thin frame.
He had only that subtle warning to brace himself before she threw herself
against him, her arms locked tight around his neck and her toes dangling
several inches above the floor. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he
pulled her warm body tight against his own, and for just a moment indulged
the fantasy that she was hugging him, Spike, and not just overcome with her
joy and the desire to share it with someone, even if that someone was him.
Her words shattered his fantasy as she finally pulled slightly away from
him. ““Oh Goddess, Spike, they’’re here. They’’re alive. Alive! I told
you. I told you it would work!””

““It hasn’’t worked yet,”” he cautioned. ““We might have found them, but we
still haven’’t freed them.”” He felt almost guilty for dashing the joy from
her face. It was the first time he’’d seen real happiness on her face since
they’’d started this hare-brained scheme of hers. He saw the light die in
her eyes.

““You’’re right, ““ she agreed solemnly. ““Finding them was easy compared to
freeing them. But, Spike,”” she added, resolve clearly read on her face,
““we will free them.””

He forced undead lungs to heave a long-suffering sigh. ““We’’ll get ‘‘em.”” he
grumbled, his enthusiasm somewhat less than effervescent.

Stepping back out of his arms, she tried to keep tight rein on her bubbling
hope but she couldn’’t control the slight bounce in her step. They had
searched so long for Buffy and Giles. She had begun to lose her belief
that they would find them alive. Even facing the odds against them now,
she couldn’’t quite dampen her good spirits. Leaving Spike to his muttering
and grumbling, she unsnapped the leash from her collar and tossed the hated
thing onto the bed. The collar stayed locked around her throat, a small
brass padlock giving testament to its permanence.

Going over to dig onto the oversized leather duffel bag that held both of
their possessions, she grabbed a small case and her sleeping clothes. ““I’’m
going to take a shower.

As Willow disappeared into the bathroom, Spike flopped down onto the bed
and rubbed at his temples. This whole plan was completely insane. How in
the bloody hell was he going to get the Slayer and her Watcher out without
getting himself and Willow killed? Muttering curses under his breath, he
rolled off the bed and pulled his own clothes off, absently running through
various liberation scenarios in his mind. Each one seemed to end in a
disaster just a little bloodier than that last. Tossing his clothes into a
pile on the floor, he climbed back onto the bed clad in nothing but a pair
of black silk boxers, though they were more for Willow’’s modesty than for
any concern of his.

Fifteen minutes later he had the beginnings of a plan. A rough plan. A
plan that he wasn’’t liking in the least. The only problem was, he wasn’’t
seeing any other options. ““Fuckin’’ Hell,”” he swore loudly just as she
stepped out into the room.

Ignoring the vampire on the bed, Willow puttered around the room, checking
for a phone jack for her laptop and to make sure that the blinds and heavy
drapes over the windows in their room were secure. The wooden boards
nailed on the outside of the windows reassured her. It had become a
night-time ritual with her, partially to project herself and in a way to
protect Spike as well, though he could certainly take care of himself.
Nevertheless, she prowled their rooms each night, no matter where they
stayed, checking for anything that could jeopardize their safety.
Satisfied that the coming dawn would bring no danger, she returned to the
bed where Spike still lay stretched across the slightly dusty, faded
comforter.

He had the heels of his hands pressed into his eyes and he’’d slipping into
what sounded like German. Willow had grown used to Spike’’s quiet cursing
over the last two and half weeks they’’d been together. She’’d discovered
that he swore and talked to himself when he was thinking hard and planning.
He’’d even taught her a few of the funnier curses in a variety of
languages. In his past two hundred years, he’’d learned a lot of them.

She’’d also learned that he didn’’t like being interrupted, so leaving him to
his imprecations, she set about putting their small room to rights. There
were 8 days left until the vampires planned on sacrificing Buffy and Giles,
so there was every possibility that they could be living in this room for
awhile.

Digging back into their duffel bag, she pulled out clean clothes and other
assorted belongings and began putting them away in the small battered
dresser. Pulling out her spell book and her laptop, she spent a few
moments looking for a hiding place. She had no doubt that their room would
be searched at some point and had no desire for their vampire hosts to find
either of these items. She finally settled on prying up a floor vent. The
bend in the vent kept the computer and book from sliding down and it would
hopefully be the last place anyone would look. That done, she picked up
Spike’’s dirty clothes and tossed them, along with her own, back into the
duffel bag. They were going to have to hit a laundry mat soon and get
things washed.

Her evening chores finished, she stifled a jaw-popping yawn. Flicking her
eyes over Spike’’s form stretched out across the bed she checked to make
sure that his eyes were still closed and then indulged herself for just a
moment, firmly telling herself that there was absolutely nothing wrong with
looking. Just so long as she remembered that she wasn’’t to touch. Noting
the long lines of his legs and the smooth muscles that made up his arms and
chest, she wished with just a trace of wistfullness that she wasn’’t who she
was, that she wasn’’t the wearer of the original pair of goody-two shoes.
She wished that for once in her life she could do the irresponsible thing.
Smiling ruefully at her own foolishness, she shook her head and banished
those thoughts. If her life wasn’’t tied to his, she had no doubt that he’’d
kill her in a heartbeat.

““Spike?”” she called softly. When his blue eyes snapped open to pin her
with a fierce glare, she said simply, ““I’’m tired.””

She didn’’t ask about his planning and he didn’’t say anything. She’’d also
learned that he would tell her when he was ready and not before. She would
wait.

He opened his eyes to see her standing by the bed clad in one of his black
t-shirts and a pair of ratty looking boxer shorts. She’’d washed off the
makeup she used to enhance the dark circles under her eyes, though truth be
told they didn’’t need much to enhance them. She’’d lost weight during this
misadventure of theirs and he could clearly see the bruises along her arms
and legs that he’’d deliberately inflicted on her to establish their cover
as master and human slave. Right now she looked more like a lost child of
twelve rather than the determined 18 year old young woman she’’d been just a
few weeks ago.

““Willow, you look like shit! You need to get some sleep.””

She gave him a tired half-smile. ““Thank you, Mister Vampire,”” she replied,
sarcasm thick in her voice.

Chuckling softly he rolled up off the bed and padded silently across the
room to get the light while she got into the bed and slid under the covers.
Their sleeping arrangements had made her uncomfortable when they’’d first
set out to find Buffy and Giles. She’’d never shared her bed with anyone
except for the occasional girl at a slumber party. To share a man’’s bed
had made her extremely nervous. The fact that that man was also a vampire
had kept her awake almost the entire day the first time they’’d had to
share. Now, knowing Spike was just an arms length away gave her a weird
sense of security. He’’d never once strayed from his side of the bed. Then
there was their physical sleeping arrangements. She didn’’t know if it was
because of their deal or maybe something to do with protecting Drusilla all
those years, but Spike always slept on the side of the bed closest to the
door. Whatever horror came through that door, it would have to go through
him first before it got to her. And though neither of them said anything
about it, she was grateful for that small courtesy on his part, no matter
what its origin.

Getting comfortable, she murmured a sleepy good night and was almost asleep
before Spike finished climbing back into the bed.

Settled back into his own pillow, Spike stared into the dark and went over
his plan one more time, not liking it now any better than when he first
came up with it. He snorted softly to himself so as not to wake Willow.

The two of them had a history with stupid plans, he didn’’t see how this one
should be any different. His mind turning over ideas he thought back to
the original stupid plan that gotten them into this in the first place.

*****

““Do you have any idea how idiotic this plan of yours is?”” he yelled. ““I
thought you had more brains than this?””

The scorn in his voice pushed her over the edge she been so carefully
clinging to ever since the night of the attack. Now all the anger and fear
came boiling up to the surface. Once released it could no longer be
controlled and Willow Rosenburg let it go with a feeling almost akin to
relief, for having found her target, she spared him no mercy.

Her voice steadily rising, she lay into him. ““Damn you, Spike, don’’t you
think I know this plan is stupid. But right now its the only one I have.
Buffy and Giles have been taken. I don’’t even know if they are still
alive. Xander and Oz are both in the hospital. I can’’t find Angel and
Cordelia, neither one is answering their phones in LA. I’’m it, you stupid
vampire. I’’m the only one left. So, I’’m going to do this and you are, by
the Goddess, going to help me.””

““Look, little witch, I like you, but I’’m the demon here, not the hero.
I’’ve helped the Slayer these past weeks ‘‘cause I had no choice. Now the
Slayer’’s gone and I’’ll be leaving too.”” He was halfway across the
destroyed library when she spoke again.

““No, you won’’t be leaving.””

Something in her tone stopped him in his tracks. If Spike didn’’t know that
it was the harmless little witch who stood behind him, he might have felt a
stab of fear. He turned slowly, body tensed for a fight.

““Don’’t make me kill you, Willow,”” he growled. ““You know I will.”” She nodded and swallowed hard. ““I know. But if you don’’t help me, I’’ll restore your soul.””

He made a rude noise in the back of his throat. ““What’’s to stop me from
just killing you here and now, before you cast the spell?””

Her eyes flickered down to the floor and then around the room before
finally coming back to met his. ““The . . The spell has already been done .
. . cast b-but not complete.”” She paused and then added, ““I tied it to a
trigger.””

““A trigger? What the hell are you talking . . .”” He stopped. She was
the smart one. Smarter than the others often gave her credit for being.
Fool that he was, he’’d fallen into the same trap. He’’d forgotten that a
very dangerous mind lurked behind the sweet smile and innocent eyes.

““Bloody hell, you tied it to your life.””

She confirmed his suspicions. ““If I die, the spell releases . . . and you
get your soul back.””

““You’’ll go after the Slayer and her Watcher whether or not I go.”” It was
more statement than question.

"Yes.””

““You’’ll get yourself bloody well killed.””

““Not if you keep me alive.””

He looked hard at her. ““Willow, do you realize exactly what you are asking
me to do to you?””

He could see the fear clearly in her eyes when she answered, though her
voice was firm. ““Yes.””

He tried one last time. ““This is beyond stupid.””

““You’’d look lovely with a soul -- all bright and shining in your eyes.””

““Bloody Hell.””

+++++

Part Two

He awoke to soft whimpers and a warm body pressed up against his own. Moving slowly so as not to wake her, he wrapped one arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, rumbling a soothing growl deep in his chest. The noise calmed her now as it had on other nights. He knew the dreams wouldn’t last long and when the day’s fears were done replaying in her mind, she’d once again roll away from him to her own side of the bed, never knowing that she’d sought him out for comfort.

Her sounds of distress easing, he loosened his hold on her. Such an amazing creature Willow Rosenburg had turned out to be, even for a human. When he’d been drafted into being the Slayer’s “vampire on the inside”, his contact, both verbal and physical, was centered solely on the Slayer. He’d seen the little witch, made some smart-assed joke about his kidnapping of her earlier that year, and then promptly dismissed her as beneath his notice. Now he knew what he’ missed in underestimating this woman-child.

She never complained, never raged at the humiliation she was put through or the pain he caused her. In the past sixteen days, he’d developed a healthy respect for her. Using her computer, she’d been the one to discover why Buffy and Giles had been taken. She was the one who suffered the bruises and the collar. Most astounding of all, she didn’t break; not when he hit her, not when he tormented
her for the amusement of the others, not when he bit her. After all he did to her, that she would, even unconsciously, turn to him to chase away the nightmares stunned him. It was for that reason, that whatever bit of enjoyment he derived out of torturing her was soon swamped under the disgust that he was beginning to feel for himself. In his unlife he’d killed without hesitation or remorse. He’d tortured humans and demons alike when they had earned his wrath, but he’d never in all his
years, tortured for the sake of torture. That had always been Angelus’ twisted gift. But to pull off this charade, he’d patterned his behavior after his grandsire’s relationship with Drusilla. If it had angered him then, it was beginning to repluse him now.

In so many ways, she reminded him of his beloved mad goddess. They shared the same child-like innocence, a subtle grace that others casually dismissed, a fire that burned deep. He’d also discovered a core of strength within Willow that Drusilla lacked. Like the Willow that was her namesake, she simply bowed low before the onslaught until you thought she would break, but then with the passing of the storm, she stood upright again, branches wind tousled, a few leaves stripped away, but still unbroken.

He let her go as she finally rolled out of his embrace. Turning over he closed his own eyes and drifted back into sleep.

*****

A sound in the hallway beyond their door brought her to heart pounding wakefulness. She lay still for a minute but the noise that had awakened her wasn’t repeated. Heartbeat and breathing returning to normal, she rolled over only to be confronted with a pair of startling blue eyes regarding her intently. Sucking in a startled breath, she frowned in annoyance as he grinned at her.

“Do you have to do that?” she asked in exasperation.

He shrugged, “I’m a demon, we get our jollies in strange ways.”

Chuckling as she rolled her eyes, he got out of the bed. Curling back up on her pillow, Willow to the opportunity to drift back into a light doze as Spike took a shower and got dressed. He shook her awake before he left the room to bid her good-bye. As he left the room, Willow got up and began her morning routine. A routine that included a round of meditation where she sought the still place
within herself that allowed her to do what she had to do to survive in this existence with Spike.

An hour later Spike was back carrying an apple and a pear. Tossing them one at a time to her, he gave her an apologetic smile. “Best I can do for the time being. They’re left over from what they’re feeding the Slayer and the Watcher.” Making a grimace of annoyance, he continued “Blake wants to show me off to the neighbors so we’re going out on a group hunt. I need you to stay here and find out the ways in and out of this place -- accessways, doors, windows, everything. Also, find out
how many guards Blake’s leaving for the Slayer when he’s gone.”

Willow nodded her understanding as he talked, munching determinedly on her apple. The vampire clans they’d visited before they’d found Buffy and Giles hadn’t always had human food available. She’d discovered what going hungry felt like and now ate whenever she could.

“I’ll be back early from the hunt. Be ready to go out afterwards.”

He stopped suddenly but Willow caught the flick of his eyes to her throat. “Willow, I’m going to have to leave you unprotected here.”

He didn’t have to explain any further. She’d learned first hand about vampire territorial instincts. With him gone, she’d need a fresh “reminder” to the others that she was taken property. He’d already bitten her at least a half-dozen times since they’d been together and he seemed to find it increasingly more distasteful. When her thoughts veered off into the stranger realms, she often wondered if his reluctance was because of her, if maybe her blood tasted bad.

Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she reached for that calm place and when she had her lingering fears and doubts firmly under control she opened her eyes and stepped up close to him.

Wrapping her arms around him, she lay her head on his chest listening to the silence. “Do it.”

She came so trustingly to him. He’d called her an idiot in the library, back what seemed a hundred years ago. He no longer thought her an idiot but still considered her a trusting fool to place her life in his hands so easily. It didn’t matter that she’d tied his soul to her life, he could do a thousand things to hurt her. It was within his power to bring her to the very brink of death itself and not let her fall. But every time that thought came to him he saw the image of Drusilla. His beautiful black goddess crawling to him, dozens of vicious bites scattered across her pale body and bloody tear tracks staining the porcelain of her skin. She was his sire. He was her childe. It was her duty to protect him from the excesses of the demon Angelus but she couldn’t even protect herself. But she was his sire and he loved her so. Each time he’d gather her up and tend her wounds, feed her body and place
himself in Angelus’ way until she was strong enough to be called back to him. Now, his Dru was his no longer. She no longer needed or wanted him to stand between her and death. Now Willow needed him. Enemy or not, he found himself stepping between her and what would do her harm. Maybe he was the one who was the fool.

Locking one arm around her waist he tilted her head to the side, baring her throat to him. Demon rising to the fore, he felt his canines extend, razor sharp. Pressing his lips against her, he inhaling the scent of her and the sweet blood that rushed just beneath her skin. His bite was hard and deep, piercing her fragile skin and releasing a flood of her hot blood into his mouth. Her taste overwhelmed him this time as it had each of the previous times. The heady sweetness of blood freely offered mixed with the underlying tang of adrenaline released by her nervousness. Overlaying it all was the taste of Willow -- fire, spirit and a dark desire buried deep in her blood.

With a growl he carefully withdrew his fangs a few minutes later. Broad sweeps of his tongue cleaned the wounds and washed away any traces of her blood. She was slumped against him, paler than she’d been before. He’d not taken much but the exhaustion and poor eating of the last weeks had taken their toll on her.

Gathering her up in his arms he moved to lay her gently down on the bed, memories of carrying Drusilla the same way flashing through his mind. Grabbing his duster he turned to leave, giving her one last glance as he licked the last trace of her from his lips, that odd taste of desire lingering still. One day he would ask her who she fantasized about when he held her and drank her blood. He’d
find out what manner of man could bring forth the beginnings of passion while she was trapped in a demon’s arms. He’d wondered if her thoughts drifted to the wolf-boy or maybe even to Angel. Was desire for his grandsire yet another trait she shared with Drusilla? A longing for the Slayer’s Angel could well explain the forbidden taste to those suppressed desires. After all, a part of him insisted, Angel always won -- Drusilla and the Slayer -- why should Willow be any different. Growling softly at his turn of thought, he shut his mind to thoughts of Willow in his present and Drusilla in his past. This time he walked out the door without looking back.

*****

She awoke an hour later, her head pounding and her mouth dry. Groaning, she sat up and ran an unsteady hand through her hair, shaking off the half-remembered dreams of Spike that always filled her sleep after he’d fed from her.

Figuring that those who were hunting were long gone, she got up to carefully apply her make-up, only she sought not to hide the bruises and dark circles under her eyes but to enhance them. Make-up done she deliberately chose a shirt that displayed her neck and the now angry red bite mark that rested right above her collar. It was tender to the touch but not overly painful.

Glancing into the hand mirror she used to apply her make-up, she make a face at her reflection. “Time to face the great outdoors.”

She did her survey of the place first, avoiding the common room and her two friends. She wasn’t ready to face them quite yet. So step by slow step she inched down the corridors and explored the open rooms, noting doors and unblocked windows. She even discovered a skylight in what looked to have been an office at one time.

In her explorations she met two other vampires, a woman who cuffed her hard on her shoulder as she passed, slamming Willow into the wall, and a man who simply growled threateningly at her as she hugged the wall while he passed.

It took an hour to completely explore the place to her satisfaction. Now she only had to gather up the courage to enter the main room. It was funny in its own sad way. She’d gone through so much to find Buffy and Giles and then when it came down to it, she couldn’t even enter the room where they were. Spike was right, she decided, she was an idiot. But it was the remembered sound of Spike derisive laughter that spurned her forward in the end.

But even stubborn pride couldn’t stop the sob that welled up inside her the moment she looked at her friends. Giles was sporting a black eye that hadn’t been there the night before and Buffy had a defeated look about her that scared Willow more than anything she’d seen so far. Her heart longed to call out their names in recognition but the three heavy set guards that stood silently around the room made her keep her peace.

It didn’t take much acting to put the trace of fear in her movements. Her jerky progress across the room was followed by five sets of eyes. Two held compassion and anger, the other three were yellow-gold with a hunger that made her skin crawl.

Spying a roll on the table she slid her eyes in her friends’ direction. It was obviously left over from their feeding, like the pear and apple Spike had brought her earlier. Darting nervous glances at the guards she grabbed at the roll and took it to a far corner where she sat down to eat it slowly. She knew that from the outside she looked like pitiful scavenger, a broken shell of what she had been. But inside, she was dancing as she chewed the bread. Her act was being bought by the guards and
they dismissed her as harmless. Harmless was good. Harmless let her at least be close to Buffy and Giles while she studied the room under lowered lashes. She only wished she could talk to her friends.

*****

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there before the sound of voices came from the short hallway leading outside. She had no problem picking out Spike’s distinctive tones. Knowing what was coming, she braced herself. This was going to be harder than the other times, knowing her friends were watching.

The minute Spike stepped into the room and caught sight of her he headed in her direction. Across the room, Buffy and Giles both started struggling against their chains to the amusement of the vampires filing into the room.

Spike just grinned and reached down to grasp the dangling leash. Wrapping it once around his fist, he pulled her upright, snapping her up against his hard chest.

“Miss me, pet?” he crooned.

“Y-Yes, Master.” Her voice subservient and terrified.

Spike chuckled. “Liar.”

Shifting to the demon’s face he tilted her head and ran his tongue across the bite mark he’d left earlier, grinning at the shiver that traveled her frame.

“Come on, pet, time for your evening walk.”

Tossing a wink at the grinning Blake, Spike lead her out into the night. He removed the leash as soon as they were well away from the lair, stuffing its length into one of his coat pockets as he gave the leather duster to her.

Willow raised an eyebrow in inquiry as she took the coat from him.

“Put the coat on, Willow, and cover up the collar. You’re bordering on anemia and you need some decent food, especially if we’re going to get your bothersome friends out.”

“What do you mean I’m anemic?” she asked in confusion. Her answer came to her as she asked the question. “You can tell that? Just from tasting my blood?” At his nod of confirmation she screwed up her nose in disgust. “Ewww, that is so . . . ewww.”

Her disgust didn’t last long though as Spike lead her to a restaurant and ordered her a steak and Willow proceeded to stuff her face while Spike watched her eat.

Leaning back against her seat, she rubbed at her stomach. “Oh goddess, that was good.”

“I can’t believe you think my eating habits are disgusting.”

“Spike, you kill and eat *people.* I mean, it’d be bad enough if you were just . . you know . . . eating the people without the killing part. But it’s the killing, . . . well, . . . that, and the rampaging and the general murder and mayhem and stuff, that kind of makes you one of the bad guys.”

He snorted in amusement. “You aren’t starting that up again, are you? I’ve told, luv, half the fun of being a demon is the whole ‘killing-without-remorse-just-because-we-can’ part.”

“But you don’t *have* to kill people,” she countered. The argument was a long standing one, played out now, more for a diversion than either really trying to change the other’s opinion. “I mean, okay, I’ll give you the thrill of the hunt and all that but can’t you just bite them and leave them alive.”

“Where would be the fun in that? Besides, death gives its own special flavor.”

“Gross, Spike. I could have lived a very long time without that piece of knowledge.”

“Face it, luv, we’re just going to have to agree to disagree on this one.”

They each fell silent as the waitress came to clean the table and brought Willow a cup of coffee.

Studying the chipped porcelain cup, Willow ran one finger along the handle, waiting until the waitress had moved several tables away. “So, what’s the plan?” she finally asked, the teasing tone from a few minutes before gone from her voice.

Spike silently acknowledged her desire to get back to business. “Not a good one, I can tell you that,” he replied with a forced sigh. “If there wasn’t the potential for so much power to be gained, I’d just bloody well challenge Blake and be done with it. But that won’t happen because the whole blasted group will benefit from the Ritual. If I challenge one, I’ll end up challenging them all. Blake, one or two of the others I could take, but not all of ‘em at once.”

She lifted the cup in front of her and sipped at her coffee, savoring its long absent bitter-sweetness. “But you have a plan,” she said between sips.

“Less of a plan, more of a bar brawl. I’m going to let the other nearby clans know what Blake’s up to.”

She saw immediately where that would lead. “They’ll, in turn, want to seize Buffy and Giles for their own.”

“Exactly. Vampires aren’t exactly shy about killing their own if it’ll further their own goals. The other clans should come out in force.”

She looked at him in a kind of awed horror. “It’ll be a bloodbath.”

He grimaced, “I’m thinking a little more dusty actually, but you’ve got the idea. The confusion alone should be enough for you to free the Slayer and Watcher and get them out of there.”

There was no hiding the concern in her voice, “What about you?”

He didn’t like this part. It put her in too much danger and any danger to her, meant ultimately a danger to him and getting his accursed soul back. That was something he had no desire to see happen. “Willow, when the attack starts, they’ll ignore the Slayer and Watcher, because they don’t want them harmed, but you . . .” he didn’t finish the sentence but trailed off into silence.

Slowly the picture he was drawing coalesced in her mind. It was be a free-for-all, vampire fighting vampire for the ultimate prize of the Slayer and the Watcher. She’d be the lone human in the group and the only thing standing between her and death would be Spike, who didn’t want to be there in the first place, fighting for her life and his own.

“Oh Goddess.”

*****

Part Three

The door to their room swung open with more than the usual violence as Spike stormed into the room screaming what she'd quickly learned was his favorite curse. "Fuckin' Hell!"

Looking up from her laptop, Willow arched a brow at the extremely irate vampire. "Bad day at the office?" she said with a laugh.

Spike swung to pin her with a glare that at one time would have had her cowering and babbling apologies. Now she simply scowled back at him.

Ignoring her quip, he growled, "I'm going to enjoy driving a stake through the heart of that annoying little twit."

Hitting the send button on her e-mail to Oz that he and Xander she was still safe, she closed her laptop. Turning on the bed, she gave Spike her full attention. "Tell me."

"Blake," he hissed. "Wanker doesn't trust me. Not that I blame him, really, ‘cause I'm not exactly the trustworthy sort, and all, but he's putting a real crimp in our plan."

‘Our plan.’ Such simple words but they gave her a warm glow of acceptance. She wondered if he even realized how much he’d begun to include her. ‘Our plan’ was a far cry from the early days when he could barely look at her without snarling in disgust.

Unable to hold in her grin, she watched him stomp around the room. "You were going to make the rounds to the other clans in the area when the sun went down tonight."

"Right. Only Blakey-boy won't bloody well leave me alone. If I try to go out alone, he insists on going with me, or he sends someone to tail me. Can't bloody well lose the tail without it looking suspicious, `cause why in the hell would I want to lose a tail unless I was up to something rotten."

“Simple then,” she said, “we just need an excuse for you to stay in and you can go out the window in here. The boards shouldn’t be too hard to pry away from the window.”

“Not simple, luv.” Walking over to the bed, he motioned her to move over and sat down beside her. “There’s just not a hell of a whole lot that would keep me in my room all night along.”

Reaching up she rubbed her hand against her collar, making the small padlock jingle. "What if you were . . .you know, discipling me for something?"

He shook his head no. "They'd buy that for an hour or two, but not all night. Not to the extent where I wouldn't go out hunting."

She pressed the issue, sure that a big scene was the way to distract the others. “So we make a big production out of it . . .drama, tears, blood. Give them all sometime to gossip about.” With every word she could feel Spike tensing up beside her.

She glanced over at him curiously. It seemed perfectly logical to her. Granted, it probably wouldn’t be much fun for her but he’d become pretty good at making it look like she was getting a lot worse “punishment” than she really was. She didn’t understand why he’d be so relunctant to put on another show. “”Spike, I don’t see . . .”

He cut her off abruptly, making her jerk back in surprise at her tone. “No.”

Seeing her startled expression, he ran a hand up through his hair before starting over. “Willow, the kind of scene they would expect would be . . . extreme. You could be seriously hurt.” Looking away from her, staring at something only he could see, he added. “You," he stopped and started again. "Mortals are so fragile.”

She shivered at his words. “Yeah, guess you wouldn’t want your soul in jeopardy like that.”

He turned a strange look in her direction and started to say something only to stop before the words left him. Turning back away from her he finally said, “Sure, luv. Can’t put my soul in danger.”

“But what if we . . .”

"No." His refusal was immediate and firm; his face set in lines of absolute resolve.

So that's what I look like when I do the resolve face, she thought. Pretty impressive. But his resolve was about to come head to head with hers. He needed to get out. Buffy and Giles’ lives depended on it. She thought herself remarkably calm once that decision was made. It was simple. She was going to get her friends free. One stubborn vampire wasn't going to stand in her way. Ater everything else she’d endured, how bad could it really be. It wasn’t like he’d really hurt her.

She knew what she had to do. A part of her that was quietly having hysterics intoned in the back on her mind . . . *Tonight on Mutual Of Omaha's Wild Kingdom, Willow Rosenburg will go one on one in the wild with a vampire. It'll be an exiting show tonight, folks.* Ignoring the internal babbling, she calmly set about putting away her computer while Spike sat on the bed and scowled. In a way, it was
a relief to be taking some kind of action. During the hunt for Buffy and Giles, Spike had actually done most of the work. She'd simply been window dressing. The occasional bruise, cut, or bite being just something she had to endure while she was paraded around in front of them. Once the other vampires were over her presence, she simply faded into the wood work, regulated to a status beneath their notice. Well, she was about to be noticed in a big way.

Stashing her computer in its hiding place she went to run a brush through her hair. Bending over she retied the laces on the black boots she wore. She'd grown fond of those boots Spike had made her wear. She'd initially hated the clothing changes he forced on her when they started this; the black jeans and tight black tops. But the clothes fit the illusion they'd created. Staring down at the scuffed toes of her boots she wondered when the illusion had started to blend with reality. She'd discovered something about herself these last couple of weeks. She liked the sense of power in those boots. She’d developed a taste for the danger and the intrigue of their game. She liked being able to indulge her somewhat offbeat black sense of humor. And if these things she'd discovered about herself were not exactly the best she had to offer, they were a part of her. A part she owed to Spike.

"Spike?"

"Yeah, luv?"

"I want you know something. I-I want to know I like you . . . a-as a person . . . or a demon . . . or whatever. You don’t treat me like I'm stupid. You laugh at my jokes. Even the strange ones that no one else ever seems to get. You talk to me like I'm an equal and . . well, other stuff too. But mostly, I want you to know that even if you are an evil demon and . . and a vampire and you only keep me alive because you have to because of the whole soul thing . . " she trailed off as she finally paused for breath in her ramble. "Well," she began again, "I just want you to know that I like you. Just for being you."

Browns knit together Spike tried to follow her rambling speech.

Seeing his confusion she laughed softly. "And Spike, I want you to know that I understand you'll just be doing what you have to."

Before he could puzzle through that one, she swung on him. The open palm of her hand connected with his face, her nails dragging sharply across the skin of his cheek. The crack of her hand against his cheek numbed her fingers and stunned him, his eyes flying wide in shock. Time seemed to slow down for her then as she saw a single drop of dark red blood bead up on one of the deep scratches. In that frozen moment, she was the only thing that seemed to move at normal speed as she whirled on her heel and took off for the door, the pounding of her boot heels sounding almost like heavy rolls of thunder to her ears. She was halfway down the hall before she heard the roar behind her.

"Willow!"

With a single word he released the spell around her and time snapped back into its proper flow around her. Strangely enough the thought that circled in her head as she rounded the corner into the common room was a memory of herself as a little girl. Her mother had been telling her to never, ever, run from an angry animal. It only made them see you as food and chase after you, she remembered with startling clarity. Bursting into the main room, she wondered what her mother would have thought about running from demons.

He was furious. Her fleeing form calling up the feelings of the hunt within him. In that sudden blaze of anger, the mortal veneer of the man burned away to the baser emotions of the demon.

Mere steps behind her he saw her barrel into a female vampire, her shoulder slamming hard into the other woman, knocking her back in surprise. Willow never paused in her headlong dash for the outside door, going down with the vampire and rolling with the impact, coming up to her feet in a graceful roll while the vampiress struggled to her feet beneath Willow.

Spike lunged for Willow.

Part Four

"Willow!" With a single word he released the spell around her and time snapped back into its proper flow.

Strangely enough the thought that circled in her head as she rounded the corner into the common room was a memory of herself as a little girl. Her mother had been telling her to never, ever, run from an angry animal. It only made them see you as food and chase after you, she remembered with startling clarity. Bursting into the main room, she wondered what her mother would have thought about running from demons. He was furious, her fleeing form calling up the feelings of the hunt within him. In that sudden blaze of anger, the mortal veneer burned away to the baser emotions of the demon.

Mere steps behind her he saw her barrel into a female vampire, her shoulder slamming hard into the other woman, knocking her back in surprise. Willow never paused in her headlong dash for the outside door, going down with the vampire and rolling with the impact, coming up to her feet in a graceful roll while the vampiress struggled to her feet beneath Willow. Her tumble, however, cost her precious seconds and allowed Spike to catch up with her fleeing form. Lunging forward he caught her across her shoulders, his weight driving her to her knees before him. But now his own momentum worked against him as the force of his leap carried him past her falling body, his own legs tangling in her flailing limbs.

They both went down heavily, a cry of mixed pain and surprise being torn from Willow's throat. Even as he realized he was falling with her, the urge to protect her rose up in him. Wrapping his arm around her, he pulled her falling body in close to his, twisting in mid-air to land heavily on his shoulder so as not to crush her beneath him. They both lay stunned on the concrete for a moment. Then with a growl of disbelief he felt her pull herself from his arms.

Only demon-enhanced reflexes stopped the heavy boot heel she swung around in his direction. Grabbing her foot he twisted hard, forcing her to roll across the floor or risk having her ankle snapped. Still, he felt ligaments twist and tear under his fingers, heard her cry out as pain shot up her leg. Willow's cry only served to wind the demon's anger tighter.

She'd challenged him and his authority in front of witnesses, witnesses that were even now gathering in a tight ring around them, waiting with amused and hungry eyes to see what he would do with this lowly human who had presumed to defy his authority. If it had been any other human the transaction would have warranted death. Spike knew the gathering vampires were expecting to see her blood flow, rich and thick, but he retained just enough presence of mind to remember that his soul was tied to her life. A hold that was tenuous at best as conflicting desires tore at him.

Her attack and flight had called up the demon's killer instincts, yet her very vulnerability stirred the old protective urges that had developed from protecting Drusilla for over a hundred years. Hurt her. Protect her. He didn't know what he was doing anymore. Only one thing was clear to him. She'd left him little choice in the way he was going to have to punish her. She'd started this insanity, but the demon was looking forward to finishing it.

Standing up slowly, he watched her from under lowered lashes as she tried to crawl away from him. A faint, chill smile curled the corners of his mouth, showing just the ivory tips of his fangs. It was the smile of the tiger when it sees prey within reach.

Willow stared into hot yellow eyes and for the first time felt real fear course through her. She watched his nostrils flare as he caught the heady scent of her terror. Swallowing hard, she pushed back with her uninjured foot, scooting herself a little further from him and towards the presumed safety of the wall.

Spike simply watched her, never moving as she inched further away from him. With a single wave of his hand, he parted the ring of vampires at her back, letting her through their ranks. He knew she was seeking the safety of the wall, putting non-threatening stone at her back. He let his smile widen in appreciation. Such a smart little human she was; to bad it wouldn't do her any good.

As her back hit the wall, he took his first step towards her. She was scared, and yet, he could still read defiance in her eyes. Squatting before her he reached out to trace her jaw with the tip of one finger.

"You should have run a little faster, Pet," he rumbled, his voice low and menacing.

Willow tried to speak, tried to say something to disarm the situation but her mind had gone blank with the first touch of his hand on her cheek. He'd touched her before. Touched her a thousand times since they'd been together, but nothing had ever felt like this and she couldn't suppress the shiver that ran the length of her body.

At the touch of her soft skin, his features shifted back to human, the demon's fearsome visage hidden once more beneath the guise of humanity. The others in the room stood at his back and wouldn't be able to see this lapse in his control. He saw Willow's eyes widen as his human features returned. She gave him a tremulous smile and he hated himself for what he was about to do . . . for this was an old trick he'd watched Angelus pull on his beautiful Drusilla time and time again. And just like his sire, Willow fell for it.

Thinking her ordeal was over, she leaned forward and raised her own hand, not enough to touch him but close enough so that he could feel the heat from her skin.

"Spike?" The word came out softly, a hesitant plea that spoke of understanding and human compassion and things he couldn't afford to acknowledge.

His own hand came up before she even had time to brace herself, the slap knocking her head back against the wall behind her.

"Master," he snarled, demon mask firmly back in place. "You will address me as Master."

Shooting his hands out, quicksilver cobra strikes, he grasped her shoulders tight and pulled her up to him, standing as he did so. Digging his fingers painfully into her arms, he shook her. Tears welled up in her eyes as he repeatedly knocked her back against the wall.

"You think to placate me with tears? It is way too early for tears, pet. Trust me, tears will be much more useful . . . later."

He pressed the length of his body up against her, more intimate now than when they'd lain together in their bed. Pulled up tight against him she was his to do with as he pleased. Mindful only of their avid audience that waited at his back like a back of vultures, he lowered his face to hers and kissed her.

For Willow it was like time stopped. She'd known what as going to happen. Or at least she'd thought she known. She'd been ready for cuts and bruises, for pain. That she could have handled.

She was unprepared for his kiss. It was unlike any kiss she'd ever shared with Xander or Oz. Rough and demanding, it bruised in its heated anger. It was a kiss meant to punish. He pulled back just enough he let her pull in a stunned breath before he descended on her again. The second kiss was even harder, pushing her head back until she connected solidly with the wall. She felt the sting of pain as sharp fangs ripped the delicate flesh of her lips. The copper taste of her own blood sent her reeling. This time he snapped his head back. Eyes blazing, he lifted her in the air; vampire strength holding her aloft against the wall with indifferent ease.

Feet no longer touching the floor, she hung completely helpless in his grasp, eye to eye with something she wasn't quite sure was her Spike anymore.

"You will submit to me," was growled out through clenched teeth. The words echoed through the chamber, pulling in the others who watched the unfolding drama. Then right before his lips claimed hers for a third time, he whispered for her alone, "Need me." His demand this time was clear. He sought entrance to her mouth, and bewildered and confused, she opened her lips to his questing tongue.

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