Bloody Red

by Kallie Rose

Copyright © 2003

kallierose@earthlink.net

Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I acknowledge Joss Whedon as god of gods. All the characters in this story are his creation, along with Fox, the rest of the Mutant Enemy Crew, and whomever else wants to lay claim to them. I'm merely killing time by putting them in totally unrealistic situations.
Distribution: Night Flowers http://www.geocities.com/kallierose01/
The Mystic Muse    http://mysticmuse.net
Sure, take it if you want it. Just let me know where it's going so I can visit it.
Feedback: Pretty please.
Spoilers: Somewhere around Season 2.
Author's Note: Sequel to Past Love.
Pairing: Willow/Spike

It was good to be back home again, to have things back to normal. She had enjoyed her time away and she certainly didn't regret having it, but being back amongst familiar faces, in a familiar place, something about it just made her happy.

It had been three years since she gone back in time, since she had returned from England and William. For the first year she had been sad, withdrawn, and barely functioning. Life without him just seemed to be more than she could bear. Her friends had tried helping as much as they could, and they did help her somewhat, but the process was something that only she could get through. Slowly she had started to come out of her self-imposed exile. Why, she thought, sometimes an entire hour passed where she didn't think of William of what she had lost. Well, it was an improvement, she told herself fiercely. Slowly but surely, her life was getting back to "normal." At least, she thought, as normal as life could be in Sunnydale.

As a surprise graduation present, her parents had given her a trip to London. It might also have been because they had finally noticed that she was quickly approaching adulthood. Her parents had finally admitted to her that they felt they barely knew her and wanted to rectify the situation. Whatever the reason, she had enjoyed tremendously the chance to see England with them; as well as the chance to get to know them as adults, rather than as parents.

She had loved England ... the museums, the culture, the castles, the incredible sense of history. She could have spent days inside the British Museum and still craved more. Caerphilly Castle in Wales had amazed her. It was really nothing but an ancient pile of stone, but in her imagination it came alive, transporting her back to a time when battles were waged and honor was everything.

There was, of course, the overwhelming need to take a walk back in time to where she and William had lived. What had she really expected to find there, she asked herself? Deep within her mind, had some small part of her expected him to be there waiting for her, after all these years, with open arms? No, she didn't believe that, she told herself. She had just wanted to see the place where she had been so happy one more time.

It was a Chinese restaurant now. It had been like a slap to the face to see it there. She was unsure if the building was even the same or perhaps it had been so many years that she had gone to the wrong block but she didn't think so. Being there had evoked memories that she had tried for so long to suppress. William smiling, laughing, touching her; it all became too much for her. Every voice she heard reminded her of him. By the time the two weeks were over, she was more than grateful to be home.

Being at home posed problems as well, though. As soon as she was settled in again, the inevitable call to research came. But it was also comforting in an odd way to know that her friends were still there, still the same people. Xander, with his goofy looks and his sweet heart. Buffy, who would stop the world to save a friend. Giles, who was their rock and really the closest thing to a father that any of the Scoobies had ever known. Finally, there was Anya, who had just somehow wormed her way into their hearts. She hadn't wanted to be a part of their little group, but in time she had warmed to them, and allowed them to see the funny, warm, wonderful woman she was becoming.

They had stayed the same, but she hadn't, she thought. She had become a powerful Wiccan, although she knew she still had a lot to learn. Her increasing powers had given her a sense of both accomplishment and confidence; and a feeling that she finally had a unique purpose. Maybe she couldn't fight with the speed and agility of Buffy, or the raw strength that Xander possessed, but she could use magic to take care of herself. No longer did she have to depend on the others to hold her up, she could hold herself up, and hold her head high.

Over snacks and coffee at the Magic Box, Giles and Buffy filled Willow in on the happenings while she'd been away as Xander and Anya played snuggles over in the corner.

"So did Giles fill you in on the new Big Bad yet?" Buffy asked Willow. "Some new bad-ass is in town, and he's got all the vamps practically falling over themselves to impress him."

"Well, yes, that's not quite the way I would have put it," Giles muttered, over up at Willow, "But, essentially, Buffy has hit the high points, as they say. The paranormal activity level is quite elevated at the moment. Buffy's been very busy on patrol for the last couple of nights. There's been no sign of the new vampire yet, but it's only a matter of time."

"So we should keep an eye out for the new guy, and if we see him, beep Buffy, right? Unless she's right next to us, in which case beeping her would be kind of silly, of course," Willow amended. Okay, so maybe I haven't changed in some ways, she thought to herself. I still babble. The thought made her smile to herself.

"Right!" replied Buffy. "Time to Bronze it yet? C'mon, Xander, get up, Anya, we're outta here." And with that, Buffy was gone, leaving the others to trail behind her.

Willow was at the Bronze, watching Buffy, Anya and Xander dance together while she nursed a drink. It felt just like old times. Buffy danced like she felt every single beat of the music. She definitely had rhythm, as did Anya. Xander, on the other hand well, it was a good thing he was cute. And a good friend as well. Because as a dancer, about the kindest thing you could say was that he was entertaining.

Willow's eyes moved from couple to couple on the dance floor, to groups of friends laughing at tables, to the edges of the building. Her eyes were quick enough to catch the early signs of trouble. Why couldn't tonight have been a nice quiet night? She'd really needed some peace. But no, this was Sunnydale, and things were never that easy. Over at the main entrance, a huge muscle-bound man just stood in front of the entrance, arms folded over his chest, body barring anyone from entering or leaving.

“Uh oh,” Willow thought, “this looks like something bad just waiting to happen.” Casually she weaved her way between the dancing couples, seeking out her friends. She carried her backpack in her right hand, it contained a general-purpose demon-fighting kit. Maybe she looked silly with it, she thought, but she'd rather look silly than dead. Corpses were never pretty, especially after a vampire had finished with them.

As she approached, Buffy looked questioningly at her and the backpack she carried. Willow nodded slightly toward the door and Buffy's eyes followed her movements.

Buffy's lips pursed as she surveyed the scene. As far as she could see, nobody was blocking the back exit; maybe the would-be attackers were unaware of its existence. Buffy caught Xander's attention and sent him to secure the rear exit as unobtrusively as possible. As Xander took up his position, Buffy and Willow quickly divided up the weapons and took their positions on the outskirts of the dance floor.

Just as they got into position, the front entrance burst open and a horde of vamps streamed in. In the meantime, Anya and Xander began funneling people out the back door. Willow hoped that by the time the vamps figured out what was going on, there would only be about a dozen people in the Bronze, and with any luck, most of them would be able to take care of themselves, while Buffy and Xander took care of the big guns.

That was the plan, at least. And like most plans, there were problems. Xander and Anya managed to get all the people on the dance floor out the back, but there were still at least a dozen people sitting around tables who were just staring at the approaching vampires. Were they really that stupid, Willow wondered, or were they just newcomers to Sunnydale? People who didn't realize the danger they were in?

"All of you. On the dance floor. Now," growled a voice. Willow still couldn't see the front door from her location, but she assumed that something in the vamp's voice or visage must have convinced the stragglers, because they moved, in a big clump, towards the dance floor. Ringing them in on all sides were a half-dozen vamps, in full face, almost like they were herding cattle. The master and the minion who had first spoken still stayed by the door, in the shadows.

Suddenly Buffy shouted, "Now,” and she and Xander attacked the two nearest vamps with stakes and holy water. Holy water wasn't the most effective weapon, being both hard to aim and easy to spill, but considering the options at the moment, it was certainly better than nothing. It was getting the job done, Willow had to admit. The element of surprise was working for them. Before the vamps even knew what was going on, three of them were reduced to small piles of dust on the dance floor. Buffy was struggling with the remaining three, her hands and feet a blur as she kicked, twisted, and fought, while Xander tried to quickly drag the remaining patrons from the establishment.

Suddenly, Willow heard a harsh voice with a familiar English accent yell: "You bloody morons! You're supposed to case the joint first to make sure there's no other way out. Bloody hell! If I want anything done right, I always have to do it myself!"

Willow's head whipped around in the direction of the voice. Slowly, she saw a familiar shape emerge from the shadows. “Oh my God,” she thought, “it's Spike.” She realized that he hadn't seen her yet, but it was just a matter of time. Would he remember her? How would he feel towards her? What was she going to do? The questions tumbled around in her mind one after the other, overwhelming her completely.

Suddenly she gathered all the force she could muster. She could feel it almost like a physical presence, swirling in circles around her. "Stop!" she said, softly but firmly. All movement stopped, everyone halted in mid-action. It was magic, of course. She took one last look at the scene before her. Buffy had just dispatched a demon, and was literally inches from dusting another. That left only the one remaining minion and Spike, against Buffy, Xander and Anya. They should be able to take care of themselves, she thought. Willow, on the other hand, was about to fall apart. All of her emotions threatened to bubble over. She didn't know whether to throw herself at Spike and kiss him passionately, or run from him as fast as she could.

After what seemed like an eternity, she made up her mind. She ran for home, as fast and as hard as she could. As she ran, she could feel her magic dissolve and the action begin again. But by then, she was almost home.

Willow raced up the steps, through the door, and locked it behind her with trembling hands. Then she went through the house and methodically checked each and every window and door, just in case. She looked out the front window. Everything was still and looked as quiet as it ever had. Relax, she told herself. There was no way he could have seen her. He couldn't have any idea she was here, and if he hadn't seen her, he wouldn't have any reason to come looking for her. She just needed to think logically. She would be fine.

She walked quickly to the phone and dialed Buffy's number. She knew that her friend wouldn't be home yet, but Willow wanted Buffy to know that she'd made it home all right. And in the meantime, she needed to set up a meeting with the whole gang so that she could give them any information that she could remember about Spike. After leaving her message on Buffy's machine, she called Giles and gave him a quick update on the events of the evening. They made arrangements to meet first thing the next morning. Willow made the necessary phone calls, leaving messages on everyone's answering machines. With each step up the stairs, her exhaustion multiplied. She had never channeled such magic before. The toll it took on her physically was almost more than she could bear. Now that the initial adrenaline rush had departed, she barely managed to reach her bedroom before she felt herself falling. She reached her bed, but just barely, then passed out.

All night long she dreamed of being chased by a fast blonde man in a dark duster.

It was still very early the next morning when the Scoobies congregated at the Magic Box for the traditional “Research Party.” Xander brought donuts, Giles donated coffee and Buffy and Anya brought their decidedly unpleasant morning attitudes. As Giles began to talk, both girls stifled yawns and looked around sleepily, as if hoping to find a nice comfy couch in which to curl up. When they had been informed of the time for the meeting, both had declared that meetings were not supposed to be held so early. But Giles had overridden them and threatened--in his best 'Ripper-esque' voice--dire consequences if they failed to appear.

So after some initial hemming, hawing and good-natured teasing, everyone grabbed breakfast and sat around the table in the middle of the store. They eyed the stacks of books piled in the middle of the table with weary distaste. Giles paced impatiently in front of them, ready to begin his lecture cum presentation.

"The first thing we have to do is ascertain the identity of this master vampire," Giles began. "From what I …"

"I know who he is," Willow said to the assembled group. Buffy stopped chewing her donut mid-chew and looked at Willow appraisingly. Xander, who had been leaning back in his chair, actually lost control and fell backwards onto the floor. He hit the ground with a thud. Sheepishly he stood up, rubbed his ass, and righted his chair before sitting down again. Anya shot him a "you should know better than to do that" type of glare, and Giles actually stopped polishing his glasses for a moment. All eyes were on Willow.

"Oh, yes? And who would that be?" Giles asked, a slightly annoyed tone to his voice. He had been looking forward to a day of research. If Willow was actually going to pull a rabbit out of her hat like this, he really ought to have been informed beforehand.

"It's Spike," she answered softly. "I don't know how, or why, or what he's doing here, but it's definitely him. I'd recognize him anywhere. That's why I left so suddenly," she continued, squirming guiltily in her chair. "I was afraid that he'd see me, and I wasn't sure what his reaction would be.”

“I wasn't even sure what my reaction was going to be," she admitted silently to herself.

They all stared at her in surprise. They had believed her when she had told them of her story; how she went to England, met William, and everything that followed. But they had exhausted every avenue trying to find this "Spike." Angel never sired him. Hell, Angel had never even heard of him. None of Giles' vampiric texts mentioned him either. As far as they could ascertain, he had never existed. Yet according to Willow, he was real, and he had nearly caused a major bloodbath the previous evening.

Giles was the first one to recover his senses and start questioning her. "This Spike...what did he look like, Willow? Perhaps he's using a different name and that's why our research never found him. Damn! I should have considered this possibility earlier. It was a terrible lapse on my part."

Willow got up and walked over to him, putting her hand gently on his arm. He smiled sadly down at her. "Don't beat yourself up about this, Giles,” she said, hoping to console him. “It never occurred to me either. It really should have. I guess that cliché about hindsight being twenty-twenty is a cliché for a reason, huh?" She gave him a sad smile, then walked back to the table to sit down.

"Okay, Spike was … Spike is ... blond, tall, lanky, always wears a dark duster, and has a small scar over his left eye. Oh, and really pretty blue eyes.” She blushed as she added the last part. “Although last night I didn't get close enough to see if he still had the scar," Willow added. "But everything else still looked the same."

"Well I guess it's time to hit the books after all, huh?" Buffy said regretfully, as she turned to look wistfully towards the window and the sunny day that was beginning to take shape. As she watched, everyone grabbed a book and got settled in for a boring morning of research. Giles paced behind them for a bit, mostly to make sure that Xander did not try to slip a comic book in behind the cover of the ancient tome he was reading. It certainly wouldn't be the first time, Giles thought with a sigh. Finally, he grabbed a book as well and settled down in his chair behind the cash register, hoping that this would not take all day. “I do have a business to run,” he thought to himself.

After several false sightings, it was Willow who finally found him. Buffy, sitting next to Willow, could tell exactly when it happened. She noticed when her best friend started slightly, glanced around furtively to see if anyone had noticed, then buried her nose even deeper into the book. Her face was a mask of concentration. Finally, when Buffy was about to poke her and demand an explanation, Willow spoke.

"I think I've found him, guys. Look at this," she said, laying the book out on the table for all to see. A picture of a striking blonde man with piercing blue eyes dominated the page. He had a sneer on his face, and according to the explanation below, he answered to the name of “Bloody Red.”

“Wow, Willow, you sure know how to pick the cute ones,” Buffy nodded approvingly, looking at the picture over Willow's shoulder.

Giles approached as well, giving Buffy a sour look. “That's hardly the most helpful comment you could be making right now, Buffy,” he remonstrated. Buffy stuck out her tongue at him and turned back to look at the picture and read the caption aloud to the group.

“Bloody Red is an enigma in a society who loves to tell tall tales about themselves,” she started. “He is purported to have been sired by the legendary Vampire of Montparnasse, back in the late 1800s. Very little else is known about him, and what little we do know is short on fact and long on conjecture.”

“In Watcher-speak, that means that they know absolutely squat about him,” Xander whispered loudly to Anya, who giggled quietly. Giles walked up behind him silently and clipped Xander around the ear, causing Xander to wince and make vague, muttered complaints about “sadistic librarians on mad power trips.”

“Please continue, Buffy,” Giles requested. “I'm sure that there won't be any further interruptions,” he promised, giving Xander a dirty look.

Buffy looked at them and smothered a grin. Xander just loved to push all of the Watcher's buttons and, of course, he was so darned good at it. “Well,” she replied, “there really isn't a whole lot more here. Most of what is here is just guesses. What it boils down to is, they know almost nothing about this Bloody Red. We don't even know how he got his name.”

Xander perked up a little at this last comment. “You mean you don't get it? C'mon, Buffy, Giles, it's as plain as the nose on my face.” At that, they all looked questioningly at his nose, perhaps expecting to find some sort of answer there.

“You really don't see it? Man, I am so going to hold this over you guys. Giles, I'm taking away your Watchers Secret Decoder Ring. Buffy ooww!“ Suddenly he stopped, looking down at his shin and rubbing it as if it hurt.

Anya, sitting next to him, smiled as innocently as she knew how. “Ooops,” she apologized, sounding almost sincere. “Sorry, Xander, my foot must've slipped. That didn't hurt, did it?”

“Anyway,” Xander continued, in a less know-it-all tone, giving Anya a decidedly nasty look, “I know how he got his name. You told us yourself, Willow.” Willow's green eyes acknowledged what he said was true.

“Yes, I know. He called me 'Red' while we were together. His name must have something to do with me,” she answered sadly, her eyes brightening with unshed tears.

Buffy quickly turned to her and hugged her friend as tightly as she could. She, more than any of the others, knew how Willow was feeling right now.

“Well … ahh,” Giles murmured, looking at the distraught redhead being comforted by her friends, “perhaps we can hold off on any more research until tomorrow. There doesn't seem to be much here anyway. I'll talk to my contacts in England and see if they have any additional information about this Bloody Red. Buffy, when you and Willow feel up to it, can search the web for whatever information is out there. Anya, could you talk to some of your former …urm…business acquaintances? Perhaps one of them might know something. We can meet back here tomorrow night and discuss whatever information we've found. Is that acceptable?”

Giles watched them nod in agreement then sent them on their way. As the others filed out of the Magic Box, Giles pulled Willow aside.

“You know, you should start wearing a cross; either around your neck or on a charm bracelet,” he reminded her. “I know, Willow, I know you're Jewish,” he said hastily, warding off her inevitable protests. “But we must be realistic. We'll try to hide you from him as long as we can, but we just don't know how long he'll stay here. He may stay in Sunnydale for quite some time. You've got to be prepared for that.”

Giles led Willow back to the table and as they both sat down. He took off his glasses and rubbed his weary eyes. “I hoped never to have to give this particular pep talk again. Buffy couldn't handle the situation and because she couldn't, Jenny's dead. I'll never forgive Angelus for that.” Or Angel, he added silently to himself. “But you, Willow, you're stronger. You can make it through this relatively unscathed … if you work at it hard enough. Just remember that although he may resemble your William physically, he's not. There's a demon living in his body, and that demon will do whatever it can to destroy you, and through you, the slayer.”

“Be very careful, and don't ever go out alone at night. Not even into your own back yard. Even one little slip can be fatal. You've lived around the danger long enough to know how real it is.”

He looked into her frightened eyes and sighed. He had not meant to scare her, but maybe that was the best thing he could do for her right now. Fear can be healthy in some situations, he acknowledged. Fear was what kept you from doing stupid, dangerous things.

He watched as she stood up and turned to leave. “Willow,” he added awkwardly, “I feel as fondly towards you as I would a daughter. Please, if there's anything I can do to help you …” he trailed off, obviously uncomfortable with such a blatant show of emotion.

She smiled gently at him, touched by his concern and his words. “Thank you, Giles. I'll remember.” You've been more of a father than my own ever was, she thought to herself. “I'd better get going … Buffy's walking me home. If I make her wait too long, she and Xander will probably get into a fight. You know how those two are, like a couple of silly children,” she remarked with a smile, trying to lighten the mood.

“Good-bye, Willow,” he nodded sadly.

“Aw, c'mon Willow, you know you want to,” wheedled Buffy. “It'll be fun. And you just *know* that Xander will show up in some lame-ass costume. Who will laugh at him with me if you're not there?”

Willow had spent the last week or so hiding, laying low, and staying in at night. She was ready to cry from boredom, she thought. Tonight was The Bronze's annual Masquerade Bash, and Buffy was doing her best to convince Willow to come along with her and Xander. She knew that she should stay home and do her homework like a good little girl, but heavens, she was so tired of being a “good little girl.”

“You can even wear a costume, and a mask,” Buffy reminded her. “That way if, god forbid, someone, uh, unexpected, showed up, he would never even know you were there. Come on, Will, pretty please? For me?”

“You're so cute when you beg like that,” Willow answered with a grin. “Okay, how could I resist. But I need a costume. What will I wear?”

Buffy had been a little leery about costumes since that problem they had a couple of years back on Halloween, but this year she decided that she would dress up. Deciding that her costume would be both practical *and* appropriate, she decided to dress up as one of the female warriors from the recent movie “Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon.” She had just finished dying her hair black, and was now in the process of putting on her black robe. Later, she would make herself up as close as she could to look the part. An old sword from Giles' collection would complete the ensemble.

Xander, on the other hand, refused to divulge his costume to anyone, merely saying mysteriously that he had a “killer idea.”

“Well we know that Anya is going to go as a bunny again,” remarked Buffy. “Apparently she didn't have time to get out and buy a new costume, so she's gone with an old favorite. Although why she insists that those cute little rabbits are frightening, I'll never know. But what shall we do for you…?”

Buffy looked around her room for inspiration, then a slow smile spread across her face. She looked at Willow and giggled.

Why do I have a feeling I'm not going to like this, Willow wondered. Half of her was wondering if she should try to back out of her promise to attend, while the other half was curious to know just what Buffy was up to. Curiosity won out, as it usually did.

“Okay, Willow, I know this sounds a little silly, but you know, it's really an old standard. You'll look great, I promise.” With that, Buffy walked to her closet and picked out one of her sheets, a soft, dark green one, and draped it across Willow's shoulders. “See, it's Toga Party Willow. You'll look great. I have some sandals that'll look perfect with that…um…outfit. Oh, and we can get you a mask so that nobody can see your face. One of those really pretty jeweled ones. Please? Let me do it. It'll be fun!”

Willow looked at Buffy's sparkling face and realized that she really could pull this off. They could do some minor adjustments on the sheet and it would drape across her body perfectly. Then the sandals, with long laces up to her knees. Once she added the mask, it would be, well, not too bad, at least.

Buffy stood there, watching Willow think it over. Finally she was rewarded with a shy smile. “Yippie! Let's get to work on this, I told Xander we'd meet him at our table in an hour.”

Bloody Red walked quietly into the bar, in full costume. He had dressed, appropriately enough, as Death. A long, floor-length black cape swept around his body, flowing with his movement; a hood covered his striking blonde hair. A pure black mask and a pair of black gloves finished the ensemble.

He stood silently in one of the shadowed corners as he scoped out the room carefully, looking at all the happy couples, friends, and lovers occupying the tables and the dance floors, and even some involved in a bit of heavy lip-locking, deep in the shadows. This time, it'll work, he thought to himself. He had over a dozen minions outside, waiting for his signal before they came bounding in to slaughter the patrons of this “fine establishment.” And unlike last time, he had done the reconnaissance himself, leaving nothing to chance. It was quite likely that the Slayer would be here tonight, and he wanted her to repay for the humiliating defeat she had dealt him the last time they'd met.

As his eyes wandered from table to table, he did see the Slayer, talking with a small redhead in what seemed to be a toga costume. The redhead had a nice, slight, lithe body, he noticed. I'll bet she screams bloody murder when I drain her, he though. He'd always enjoyed the redheads, ever since no, he wouldn't think about her again.

As he watched the two girls talk, a plan entered his mind. Yes, the perfect revenge against the Slayer, and a little fun for him as well. What could be better? He smiled a predator's smile, cold and empty of emotion, as he weaved his way through the maze of tables and chairs, ending his journey when he was at the redhead's side.

“A dance?” he asked the redhead, his voice as low and toneless as he could make it.

“Oh, wow, I think we've found Xander and his “killer” costume,” joked Buffy. “And it's not nearly as lame as I thought it would be. Good job, Xander.”

Death merely nodded his head in Buffy's direction by way of a greeting, then held out his gloved hand to Willow. Willow gave a look to Buffy, then took his hand and let him lead her out onto the dance floor. They worked their way through the crowd to one of the darker corners of the dance floor and started to dance. Soon Willow's mind was on nothing at all except for the beat. Then she realized that there was a nagging little question in the back of her mind. When had Xander learned to dance? She watched the man across from her, the way he moved his body. Not jerky or bouncy, he just moved sensually to the music. Whoever he was, he sure knew how to move. He couldn't be Xander.

All too soon for Willow's taste, the song ended. A sad, slow song started, and the mournful voice of Shirley Manson floated on the air. “I'm waiting, I'm waiting, for you …”

Death took her hand, seemingly intending to lead her back off the dance floor. Willow hesitated momentarily. Deciding that no real harm could come to her with Buffy within shouting distance, Willow allowed him to lead her. They walked, hand in hand, to a secluded corner, wreathed in shadows. Willow leaned back against the wall while Death faced her, his hands resting on the wall to side of her shoulders.

“And what's your name, little girl?” he asked her in that same dead, toneless voice. Not that it mattered, he thought to himself; I'm just going to call you “dinner” in a minute anyway.

“Willow,” she breathed softly. “My name is Willow.”

“Such a pretty, soft young thing,” he thought. The innocence in her eyes was enchanting. If not for his unfinished business waiting outside he would have taken his time with this one. Taken her home and into his bed, using her until he tired of her. But he had a plan, he reminded himself. Best to drain her now. Consider her an appetizer and then call in his men to take care of the Slayer and the others. He did want her to see the face of the one who killed her, though, and to look into her eyes as they glazed over in fear, changing to panic, then into unconsciousness.

“Take off your mask,” he commanded huskily, his hand reaching out, as if to remove it himself.

She reached up hesitantly, touching the side of the mask. Slowly, so slowly, she took off her mask and let it fall to the floor.

He stared at her in shock, not believing the evidence of his own eyes. It was his Red. But yet it couldn't be. Conflicting thoughts swirled in his head.

He gripped her arm roughly and spit out the words: “What. Are. You?” He sent each word to her heart like a poisoned dart. He had heard that the Slayer was good and was expecting that she would try something to throw him off balance. But this--how could anyone have known about Red?

Sudden realization dawned on Willow's face. This was Bloody Red. Spike. Whichever. He knew that she was here and alive, but he hadn't figured out how just yet. She hesitated, unsure of what to do next. Run away? Feign ignorance? Admit that she was his Red? Would he even believe her if she did?

“Answer me!” he hissed, twisting her arm behind her and causing her to cry out softly. She looked at him and saw eyes awash in such anger and hatred that she shrunk back against the wall in fear. Her sweet and gentle William was nowhere to be found in those eyes. They were truly the eyes of a demon.

Willow was not sure if it was the right thing to do, but she had to do something. She reached up with her free hand and gently and touched his mask, moving it away from his face and letting it drop to his chest. Running a soft hand down his cheek, she answered quietly, “I'm Willow. I was also Red.”

He stared into her green eyes, emotions running wild. How? How was this possible? Was she lying to him? She couldn't be. He'd never told anyone the full story of what had happened between him and Red. He had little choice but to believe her. To believe that this was his Red standing in front of him.

Anger flared through his body like a white-hot sword. How dare she do this to him? How dare she toy with him the way she had, making him think that she loved him and causing him to love her in return. He would kill her. No, better yet, he'd torture her for days until she begged him to kill her. Then he'd dump her lifeless body at the feet of the Slayer before he killed her as well.

He grabbed her arm and jerked her into his body, feeling her soft warmth against his chest. He gazed down into her luminous eyes and was almost lost. Almost. “Let's get out of here and talk, hmmm?” he whispered in his most seductive voice. “She wasn't the only one who could play games,” he thought.

He led her towards the entrance, along the edge of the dance floor. Willow sensed that something was wrong and was not going to let him guide her out without a fight. “Act naturally,” she told herself. She gazed up into his eyes trying to project an aura of adoration and happiness. Her senses were highly attuned, looking for possible avenues of escape.

They were approaching the table that Willow and Buffy had shared earlier. Willow glanced over and saw Buffy, Anya and Xander in animated conversation. Xander was in his pirate costume again. Gee, how original. She took in a deep breath and prepared to scream. Before she could do it, Bloody Red spun her away into the crowd, making them look for all the world like a pair of devoted lovers dancing the night away.

“Don't,” he said, shaking her gently. He knew exactly what she had been about to do, of course. The thought had shown clearly on her beautiful face. She wasn't good at subterfuge, he realized. How she had managed to keep William fooled for so long was beyond his understanding. Then again, William had been a human, he thought with disgust. Easily charmed by the beauty of a pretty girl with a sad story.

“If you try to get away, I will kill you,” he said in a casual, unemotional voice. Almost as if he were planning the rest of his week. “Then I will kill your friends. Once they're all dead, I will kill your slayer,” he finished.

She looked into his eyes and knew that he meant it. He would kill each and every one of them just to punish her. There was no choice but to follow him through the throng of dancing couples, his hand like a steel band around her wrist. Slowly they made their way back towards the entrance. Her eyes desperately sought Buffy but could not find her. She, Anya and Xander must have gotten back out onto the dance floor, she thought. Or maybe they were buying drinks. It didn't really matter; she was on her own this time.

As they reached the door, Bloody Red stopped short, causing her to stumble into him. “Slayer,” she heard him hiss softly. She looked to the door and saw Buffy standing there, arms crossed in front of her. “Thank God, Buffy to the rescue again,” thought Willow. She was so glad to see Buffy that she could have wept. Instead, she tried twisting her arm out of Bloody Red's iron grasp. He whipped his head back to look at her and growled. She shrank back but met his gaze defiantly. Realizing that he had little or no possibility of escaping if he insisted on taking Willow with him, he made up his mind and pushed her towards Buffy, throwing them both off-balance. Then he quickly darted out the door and into the night, his dark cape flowing behind him as he ran.

“Well it seems that keeping Willow's existence a secret from Bloody Red is no longer a viable possibility,” Giles remarked with regret.

They had quickly assembled back at the Magic Shop, each taking their usual seats. Giles sat in his chair behind the cash register, Anya, Xander, Buffy and Willow at the table, each pondering strategies to deal with the latest calamity.

“I suppose it was bound to happen eventually,” Willow agreed sadly. “I couldn't live locked up in my room forever. I guess I just kept hoping that he'd go away, but obviously that isn't going to happen now.”

'Don't worry Willow,” Xander told her, patting her hand awkwardly. “We won't let him hurt you.”

Buffy put her arm around Willow and pulled her close for a hug, resting her chin on the top of Willow's head. “Yeah, what he said,” she whispered in Willow's hair. “We're in this together, Will. I'm your shadow. He's never going to be able to get close to you again.”

“I…I just feel so confused,” Willow confessed, pulling away and looking up into Buffy's eyes. “You know what it's like, Buffy. You understand how it feels to see the eyes of a demon staring at you from out of your lover's face. How do I deal with something like that?” she asked despairingly.

Buffy looked sadly at her, remembering her experiences with Angel and Angelus. “You're right to be confused. It is a confusing thing,” she said, thinking of all the chances she had to kill Angelus and remembering how she was always unable to do so.

“Buffy can kill him for you,” said Anya expectantly. They looked at her in shock. She always had the most disconcerting way of saying out loud what everyone else was thinking. Sometimes it was a good thing; sometimes it wasn't.

“Thank you, Miss Stating-The-Obvious,” Xander replied sarcastically, wishing that just this once she had managed to keep her thoughts to herself. Well, being an ex-demon in a human's body couldn't be easy, he reminded himself. Maybe his response had been a little harsh.

“Sorry, Anya,” he apologized, entwining her fingers with his own. “I guess I'm still just a little freaked here.”

“It's okay,” she replied, giving him a forgiving smile.

“Well, now Bloody Red has found out about Willow, I think it's time to plan our strategy,” Giles reminded them. “The important thing now is that Willow not be left alone. You three,” he said, pointing at Buffy, Xander and Anya, “should be with her at all times after dark. Walk her home, or anywhere else she needs to go. Make sure that all the doors and windows are locked, and that there are holy water and stakes hidden in all rooms. And most importantly, Willow, be extremely careful who you allow into your house. You never know what Bloody Red might try to do next. We must be prepared for literally anything.”

As Willow started to protest, Giles interrupted her, standing and pacing across the room uneasily, “No. No exceptions Willow. Any deviation from this plan could get you killed.” He looked at her with compassion and sadness in his eyes, “I know that this is difficult, Willow. But please, do it for me. I don't think I could stand to lose another friend, Willow. Especially one as good and sweet as you.”

Willow stood up, obviously wanting to argue. But when she saw the look in Giles' eyes she sat back down, mouth unopened.

“All right, get out of here,” Giles said with a wave of his arm, motioning them towards the door. “Take Willow home and make sure that everything's secure. Then walk home. Together. We all need to be especially careful right now. There's no telling what Bloody Red will try next.”

They made halfhearted attempts at conversation as they walked Willow home, but nobody's heart was really in it. Each of them was secretly worried for Willow, hoping that she would be strong enough to make it until Buffy was able to kill Bloody Red, or at least drive him out of town. He was a master vampire and he wouldn't be easy to kill. They all knew it.

“Well, here we are, all safe and sound,” Willow said. Trying to lighten the mood, she continued, “Is it just me, or does it feel like I have an entourage?”

The others laughed, but too loudly. They were nervous, she knew. “I wish I could convince them that I'll be okay,” she thought to herself. “I know they're worried.”

They followed her into her house and checked all the doors and windows, making sure that she was as secure as she could possibly be.

“And another exciting Saturday night down the drain,” quipped Anya, wondering why she saw more demons now that she was a mortal than she ever did when she was a demon. “Come on, Xander, let's go home. At least we can have sex tonight, right?”

“Oh, I so did not want to hear that,” Buffy announced, putting her hands over her hears in mock disgust.

“Jealous much,” Xander grinned at her, quoting the unforgettable Queen Cordelia, his first girlfriend.

“Um, yes,” she smiled back at him, as Anya pulled him towards the door. Buffy followed.

“Are you sure you'll be okay Willow,” she asked. “Because if you want, I could stay. We could have a real sleepover and everything.”

“I'll be fine, Buffy. I think I'll go do some homework. You know how that always takes my mind off of stuff. You go home and get a good night's sleep for once,” Willow replied. “Buffy always takes care of everyone else,” she thought to herself. “When will she find someone to take care of her?”

“Okay, if you're sure,” Buffy answered. She took one last long look at her friend, gave her a hug, and was off into the night, after making sure that Willow closed the door firmly behind her.

All by herself at last, Willow climbed the stairs to her room and instead of doing homework as promised, decided to lay down and hope for sleep. Surprisingly enough, as soon as her eyes closed she was lost in slumber.

Willow sat at her computer writing her mid-term composition for Contemporary Lit. She smoothed her oversized night shirt comfortably over her knees then clasped her hands around the warm cocoa she was hoping would keep her awake long enough to make some progress on her paper. Her parents were gone again at yet another conference. But since their time together in London, she didn't resent it the way she used to. They had their lives to live, she told herself, and she had hers. It's just that sometimes my life sucks, she thought.

For her paper she had chosen the theme “Love and Loss,” something she was so very familiar with. Writing helped her deal with everything that had been going on in her life. The writing had been going well so she was a little annoyed to hear a knock on the door of her terrace. Still, it could be Buffy or Xander, so she'd better answer the call. She saved her file and walked to the door, pulling open the curtains. Her hand went to the doorknob but one look at the face on the other side of the door stopped her short. It was Bloody Red.

He gave her a quizzical look, almost as if surprised by her hesitation. His lips curled into a slight smile, and he pressed them to the door's edge. “I'm just here to talk,” he told her. “You can open the door if you want, I won't be able to get in unless you invite me.”

She knew he spoke the truth but was still suspicious of his intentions. Backing away from the door on weak legs, she sat down on her bed and analyzed what he had suggested, looking for a loophole. Much to her surprise, she could not find one.

He looked at her impatiently, sensing her indecision. “Come on, Willow. Open the door,” he urged her. “Or do you want to have this conversation out here, where anyone in the neighborhood can listen in? Do mommy and daddy know about your late-night activities with the Slayer, little one?” he taunted her.

“Shut up,” she hissed quietly. God, he made it sound as if she and Buffy were fucking, instead of fighting the forces of evil. How did he manage to make everything sound like sex, she wondered.

Finally, she made up her mind. As she walked to the door she stopped to pick up the stake she had hidden in the middle drawer of her dresser. How many women kept a supply of stakes in their underwear drawer, she wondered. Well, besides her and Buffy, of course.

She slowly opened the door, half-expecting him to try to rush her, even though she was pretty sure he couldn't. Still …

”Little one, I'm crushed. You don't trust me,” his mocking blue eyes glanced casually towards the stake then locked onto her dark green ones. He looked good she had to admit. Hair, eyes, hands, body, all as handsome as she remembered. But evil, she reminded herself. Extremely evil, extremely fatal.

Had he killed tonight? Had he destroyed someone else's life before he came here to flirt? Had his lips kissed someone's neck before his fangs broke the skin, drawing in nourishment at the expense of another's existence? The thought made her angry.

“What do you want from me, Bloody Red,” she asked him with anger, fear (and maybe just a tad bit of desire) burning in her eyes.

“Call me William,” he answered, his face a blank, his voice devoid of emotion.

Anger swept through her like the wind. Wanting to hurt him as he'd hurt her, she railed at him: “William? You want me to call you William? Don't even speak his name! You're not him. You'll never be him. Never! You were going to kill me last night. Do you remember that? How would William have felt about that?” she yelled the words at him, chest heaving with emotion.

He just grinned at her as if the storm raging in her eyes had served to amuse him. “Very well,” he responded. “I had no idea that the mere mention of his name would cause such a reaction. Such a lot of emotion there.” He narrowed his eyes and a twisted smile graced his face, “If I didn't know any better, I'd have thought that you really loved him.”

“I…I did love him,” she gulped. As quickly as the anger appeared, it was gone now. All that remained was sadness and longing. Of its own volition her hand came up to brush away the tears that were falling down her face.

He sneered at her, ignoring her tears. “How could you claim to love him, and then just disappear? You know, he wandered the streets for months looking for her. For you. He was looking for you the night he was turned. Did you know that?”

She looked up at him in shock, everything forgotten except for his words. William had been looking for her when … when he was … she couldn't even finish the thought. She ran for the bathroom, nausea turning her stomach. Just in time, she leaned over the toilet and lost everything she'd eaten during the last couple of hours.

When she was finished, she sat leaning against the white wall of her bathroom, tears streaming down her face, mind reeling from what Bloody Red had told her. Grasping her knees to her chest, she sat rocking back and forth, hoping against hope that he was lying to her, trying to throw her off balance. But in her heart of hearts she knew that he was telling her the truth. Her William would have searched stubbornly for her, she knew. Then one night he must have run across something that his gentle nature couldn't overcome. It was all her fault, she thought, eyes closing in defeat, forehead resting on her knees.

Finally, when she had cried all she could, she decided to face him again. She refused to be a source of amusement for him, Willow told herself. Slowly she pushed herself up from the floor and walked into the bedroom. Her eyes fastened on the open door, and the lack of a vampire on the threshold. Warily, her eyes searched her room, just in case he had gained entry. Seeing nobody, her eyes again shifted to the door. Arm outstretched, she pushed the door closed. Leaning against the door, her eyes searched the shadows outside, looking for some trace of him. All she saw was the wind-tousled trees; all she heard was the low rustling of leaves in the wind.

Tired and saddened, she walked to the bed, a thousand years of suffering falling onto her small shoulders. She slid her body under the covers and closed her eyes, wishing for all the world that she could just sleep forever and never wake up. Sadly, she knew that morning would come soon enough and she would be there to witness it.

“I'm going to stake his undead ass,” Buffy said angrily, pacing the floor of Willow's bedroom like a caged tiger, all muscles and tension.

Willow had called Buffy as soon as she had herself back under control, relating the details of Bloody Red's visit. Buffy was on the war path, mad as hell at Bloody Red for what he was putting her friend through.

As much as Willow appreciated Buffy's anger and indignation on her behalf, what she really wanted was to be comforted. To have someone tell her that this would all be over soon, and that it would all be all right. Buffy, however, wasn't ready to calm down enough to do that for Willow. At least not yet.

“Next time he shows up there, you call me! Immediately. I mean it.” She stopped pacing and looked Willow in the eye, as if to make sure that Willow understood what she was saying and took her promise seriously. “I'll be over here in minutes. Seconds. I won't let him touch you, get anywhere close to you.”

“It's okay Buffy, I'm all right, really. I'm … maybe I'm just a little rattled.” A little, she thought to herself? Who am I trying to kid?

Buffy stopped pacing and sat down next to Willow on the bed, sympathy and understanding shining in her eyes. “I know that you're confused, Willow. I understand how you feel, probably better than anyone else in the world. Been there, done that. Was going to buy the t-shirt, but it was orange. Not a good color on me.” Buffy said, trying to sooth Willow's panicked nerves with her unique brand of humor. Then she got serious. She was here to help, after all.

“Your eyes see the man you love, but in your heart, you know that it's not really him, and it tears you up inside.” And the nocturnal visit probably didn't help much either, Buffy thought to herself.

“But that's just part of it, Buffy,” Willow told her. “He's not even the Spike that I remembered. But he's not William either. He's different … he's … how do I explain this? Spike was always cocky, arrogant, and selfish, but he had a softer side. Oh, I'm not saying that he was all bunnies and kittens or anything like that. But, well, he had feelings. He …“ Willow sighed in frustration, trying to put her thoughts into words. She looked at Buffy, who stroked her hair gently and gave her a “take your time” face.

“Okay, here's an example,” Willow tried again. “Spike was in love with Drusilla. He would have done anything for her. It was a weird, sick, twisted relationship, but there was no doubting that he cared for her, even loved her passionately.”

“Wait, back up the story here a minute, Will,” Buffy exclaimed, looking at Willow in disbelief. “You're telling me that Spike, this mean, bad-ass vampire, was in love with Angelus' sanity-challenged childe? I mean she was such a wack job that even Angelus couldn't stand her. And you're saying that this Spike, a master vampire, was actually in love with her?”

“See, that's what was so … interesting about Spike. He had a weakness, a soft spot. It would almost have been romantic, if it weren't for the fact that they were both blood-sucking killers, of course.” Willow glanced at Buffy, hoping that she was getting at least a portion of her point across.

“But Bloody Red is different,” she continued. “He's cold, ruthless, and of course evil. But he's not cocky like Spike was. He's a predator through and through. Cold, emotionless, remorseless.” She shivered, putting her arms herself and hugging herself tight. “He reminds me more of Angelus than he does Spike.”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted saying them. A quick look at Buffy showed her that Buffy understood and wouldn't hold it against her.

“I'm sorry, Buffy. I didn't mean to bring up such bad memories. But it's true. He's got the heartless, unaffected stuff down to a 'T', just like … well, you know.”

Buffy sighed and gave Willow a hug. “I know, I really do understand. And it's not your fault that my life is as twisted as a bag full of extra-twisty pretzels,” she said with a smile.

“But as fascinating as the differences are, you know you have to stay away from him, Willow,” Buffy got up and started pacing again, as if each time she put her foot down, she was making a point. “He's playing with you now, but soon enough he'll come after you for real, and no amount of fascination or compassion will keep him from killing you. You have to be on your guard, both emotionally and mentally.” Good god, when did I start channeling Giles, Buffy wondered.

“I've got to get moving,” Buffy said, heading towards the door. “I've got a big Psyche test tomorrow, and unless you want to show up and take it for me, I'd better get home and get some sleep. Are you sure you don't want to come home with me? We can have an old-fashioned sleepover, just like when we were kids. Well, except for the part where we sit and talk about boys. Considering our love lives lately, that would just be depressing.”

Willow gave a giggle, already feeling better just because of Buffy's comments. Buffy could always cheer her up, no matter what was going on in their lives. “No, Buffy, I'll be fine. I've got a little homework to finish up and then I'm going to go to bed too. And if Bloody Red comes by again, I will call you immediately.”

“You promise?” asked Buffy.

“You betcha,” her friend answered with a smile.

It was a hot, sultry night; the air was as thick and still. The temperatures had been in the 80s for almost a week straight now, and there was no end in sight. Willow had hesitated to leave her windows and doors open, but she did it anyway, rationalizing to herself that the worst thing that could happen to her couldn't happen unless she went outside. Or invited him in. And no, she wasn't going to do that.

Willow was again sitting at her desk working on her computer. Her fingers flew across the keyboard as she updated her online diary. She had started her diary initially as a way to express her feelings of frustration, confusion and loss. Years later she was still chronicling her thoughts. Although her situation had changed from year to year, she always made sure she kept her diary up-to-date. Not only did it help her deal with what was going on in her life at the moment, but also it was strangely calming to have somewhere where she could share her deepest, darkest secrets. There were some things that she'd never be able to say to Buffy or Xander for fear of their rejection, disgust, or even worse, their pity.

She was so deeply engrossed in her endeavor that she never even noticed the cold blue eyes surveying her from the other side of French doors. He had been standing in the shadows watching her for half an hour now, allowing the quiet click-click-click of her nimble fingers on the keyboard to lull him into a more passive posture than he'd intended. Plus, he had to admit to himself, it was fascinating to watch the emotions fly across her face. First anger, pain, fear, and then, finally, relaxation and serenity. Just what was it she was doing that brought out such strong emotions in her, he wondered. In his arrogance he wondered if it had to do with him. Them.

Finally he could stand it no longer, he had to know. He knocked on the wooden frame of the door and as she whirled in her seat to face him, he gave her a cool, appraising look and threw out the first words that came to his head.

“I've decided to let you live,” he said. What the bloody hell was that, he wondered, slightly disgusted with himself. He had been working on the perfect opening line for half an hour, and *that* was the best he could come up?

She looked at him in confusion, unsure of what to make of his sudden appearance. And the words, those were rather unexpected as well. They would be welcome, if she could trust him. But whom was she kidding; she couldn't trust him as far as she could throw him.

“And I'm supposed to believe you,” she finally replied, eyes dull and tired. “Oh, because of that surprise lobotomy I had weekend, right?” She watched his face darken with suppressed anger and decided that pissing off the homicidal vampire was probably not her smartest move. Wait, homicidal vampire? Wasn't that an oxymoron anyway?

“Just what are you doing here, anyway? Thought you'd take another whack at making me miserable, was that it,” she asked with pain and anger in her eyes. “Well it won't work this time, buster. I'm not going to let you make me feel guilty, do you hear me?” She fairly shook with suppressed emotion as she uttered the last words, and tears started to fall softly from her eyes.

I still have an effect on her, he thought. That was … interesting. The pain in her eyes, the anger in her voice, they all combined made her look stunning, the most spectacular sight he'd seen in decades. He'd have given anything he had to be able to walk through those doors and taste her tears. The very thought was making him hard. That wasn't why he was here though, he reminded himself. As much fun as it was to torture the little thing, he had to remember his goal, his reason for being here tonight. He thought of the least sexy thing he could: Ronald McDonald giving head to Jerry Springer. Yes, he thought with a cold smile, that did the trick, as it always did.

“Relax, mortal,” he commanded derisively, spitting the last word out like it was an insult. “I came here tonight to talk.” Her tears stopped falling and a look of curiosity entered her eyes. Yes, that had gotten her attention.

“Don't wanna talk,” she mumbled softly, dipping her chin down to her chest and staring at the floor.

“Doesn't matter what you want,” He answered tightly, annoyed by her reaction. “LOOK AT ME,” he thundered, wanting her full attention.

Her head whipped up in surprise and her eyes flew to his. What was he after?

“It's like this, Red. You messed with my life. I figure you owe me an explanation, at the very least.” It really was the truth. Knowledge was power, and he wanted no, he needed to know what happened and why. How and why she had come to him all those years ago, and why that chance encounter had changed his life, and his unlife, forever. She owed him those answers.

Willow considered his request, looking for the loophole. How could he use the truth against her; use it to gain the upper hand? She couldn't see a way. Couldn't think of a reason to deny him this request. And it was because of her that his life had taken this strange turn. She did at least owe him an explanation as to why she had done what she'd done.

Her mind made up, she got up and walked over to the open door and sat Indian-style in front of it, motioning for him to sit down as well, facing her.

He looked at the spot Willow was indicating and decided to do as she requested. They sat face to face, just the two of them, with only the invisible barrier separating them. I could reach out with my hand, through the barrier, and touch him, she thought, wanting so badly for things to be different. But the magical barrier remained between them, as well as many other, less palpable barriers.

“It's kind of a long story,” she started softly, by way of explanation. “We might as well both be comfortable.”

“If you say so,” he acknowledged off-handedly. He was affected by her nearness, but was determined not to show it.

“So,” he prompted, looking at her expectantly. “What's it all about?”

“Well, it all started about 5 years ago, because of a vampire named 'Spike' …”

It was nearly 3am by the time Willow had finished her narrative. Bloody Red had been a patient listener, interrupting her only once or twice, and then only asking Willow to elaborate on a few of the more confusing points. He'd have to leave soon, he thought, but he had just a few more questions to ask.

“So I was this Spike, this bad-ass vampire, and I was part of the Clan Aurelius? Hmmm … I think I might be better off now. Maybe I owe you a thanks after all,” he said, thinking out loud. He had heard of Angelus, now Angel. One of the cruelest most feared master vampires of this era. The name used to strike fear into vampires everywhere. Now Angelus was basically leashed, cursed with a soul. How ironic was that?

“So you see, maybe there's no reason to be mad at me at all,” she babbled eagerly. “Besides, if you … if Spike hadn't been so bad, well, there wouldn't have been any reason to do what I did, right?”

“I wouldn't be getting all proud of yourself just yet, little girl,” he said with a slight smirk, reminding her strangely of Spike.

He got up and started pacing the terrace, thinking about what she had told him and what, if anything, he could do with the information. Still, it was good to know what had happened and why.

She must be a fairly powerful witch to have been able to send herself back in time like that, even if it was a bit of a fluke. He could use her talents, he thought. Perhaps he should try and turn her. Between her magical abilities, and the way that her death would affect the Slayer, he could kill to birds with one very sharp set of fangs. He'd have to think about the matter carefully, but it was definitely something to consider.

Until then, he'd have to be careful to control his thoughts and keep any inkling of his plans from becoming known. She seemed relatively easy to get to now, but if the others knew of his intentions, it would make it harder for him to put them into action. Then again, he could always out-wait them. He truly had all the time in the world.

“So, what happens now,” she inquired, trying to figure out exactly what was going through his mind. “I mean, will you leave town, get on with your life, maybe,” she asked optimistically.

Her hopeful question made him smile to himself. No, he wouldn't be leaving this town anytime soon, he thought silently. There were so many interesting things he wanted to do, and things he wanted to do to her. He pictured her on his bed, naked, her eyes glazed with passion.

“Don't know yet, luv. Probably be moving on sooner or later, I guess,” he said nonchalantly. Let her think she was safe, he thought. Once she got used to seeing him around she would drop her guard. It only had to happen once, and he'd be there to take advantage of it.

“Sun'll be up soon, I'd better get going. Thanks for the talk,” he tossed the words to her over his shoulder as he jumped smoothly from her terrace to the soft ground below. Willow watched from inside her door as he made his way down the tree-lined street, and then faded into the shadows.

Well that was … almost pleasant, she thought to herself as she closed her door and stepped to her bed. It was late, or early, depending on how you looked at it. If she went to sleep now, she'd only get an hour or two before she had to get up and go to school. On the other hand, if she went online and updated her diary, well, it might be better not to go to sleep at all. She'd pulled all-nighters before, usually studying for tests. This might be a little different, but why not.

As she sat down and typed her feelings into her diary, she thought about what happened tonight. Yes, he had scared her initially. But as she spent more time with him, she realized that he was not quite what he had seemed during their previous encounters. She had thought that he was detached and emotionless but she realized now that she had been wrong. She had seen flashes of humor, passion, and intelligence in his eyes. He was extremely good at hiding them, that's all, much better than William or even Spike had ever been. The more she had talked to him, the more he had let his guard down. And the more he did that, the more she saw that reminded her of William and even Spike. She sighed deeply. The men in her life: Bloody Red, William and Spike. What a combination. What a confusing combination.

On the plus side, she reminded herself, he didn't seem like he wanted to kill her anymore. Maybe she could go back to having more of a normal life, she thought hopefully. Living as a prisoner in her own house had begun to grate on her nerves. She needed to get out and have a normal life again. Or at least as normal of a life as she could have on the Hellmouth, she reminded herself.

Willow's day passed in a sleepy daze. Her teachers were surprised. Their usually alert and intelligent favorite student seemed to be barely able to keep her eyes open. Usually one of the first to raise her hand to answer a question, today Willow let the others do the thinking for her. All she wanted was for the last bell to ring so she could hurry home to some well-deserved, and longed-for, sleep. Finally the 3:00 bell rang and she headed out the classroom door, hoping for a quick stop at her locker and then an even quicker walk home where the oblivion of sleep waited for her.

But of course, it didn't quite work out that way. As she rounded the final corner off campus, she heard Buffy yell her name, then listened to her footsteps as she sprinted to catch up with Willow.

“What's the haps, Will? You seemed like you were really out of it today. Better be careful, or you might lose that 'Teacher's Pet of the Year' award,” Buffy teased her with an easy grin. They fell into a comfortable gait, turning down the street for the short walk to Willow's house.

“Umm … just tired, that's all,” Willow replied without enthusiasm, trying to stifle yet another yawn. She wasn't sure whether she wanted to talk about what had happened last night just yet. A part of her wanted to keep those hours to herself, analyze them, and then relate them to the group when she was sure exactly how she felt about them.

“Didn't sleep well last night,” Buffy asked sympathetically. “I got these new candles you should try. Aromatherapy. Giles suggested them as a way to get in touch with my 'Inner Slayer' and all that stuff. Of course, he wouldn't say it like that, since he's got the whole 'stuffy Englishman' thing going, you know. I think he told me that they would help me concentrate my energies or some such crap. All I know is, they're great for relaxing. Anyway, what you do is light them in the bathroom, turn out all the lights, and take a nice bubble bath. Next thing you know, you're dead to the world. Oh, but 'dead to the world' in the good way, not in the 'grrrrr' way,” Buffy clarified with a grin.

“Sounds like fun,” her friend said with a slight lack of enthusiasm. Guess it's time to come clean with the truth, she thought. Damn the consequences and full steam ahead, she decided with a tired smile.

“Well,” Willow started hesitantly, “I was going to tell you this later, but … he came by again last night.” Willow knew without saying that she didn't have to tell Buffy who 'he' was.

Buffy stopped walking and grabbed Willow's arm, halting her progress as well. She looked around and realized that they were already in front of her house, so they sat down on the front lawn. Buffy looked at Willow and Willow felt her face turn red. Damn blushing, she thought. Why did her body have to do that to her? Sure, some guys claimed they found it charming, but to her it was just an embarrassment.

“Why didn't you call me, Will,” Buffy asked, pain shading her voice. “You promised, remember? If he came back you were going to call me, and I'd help you get rid of him. You don't have to go through this alone. God, if he had done anything to you Wills …”

“But he didn't, Buffy. He was … different last night.” She knew that Buffy didn't believe her, so she set about convincing her. “He just wanted to talk. Really. He…he asked me what I had done and why, and I told him, told him all about the spell, and about Spike, and he was okay with it, really, and then I asked if he'd be leaving now, leaving town, that is, and he said he might, and …” Willow stopped, slightly out of breath from her ramble. What she didn't tell Buffy was that she wasn't sure how she felt about him leaving. There was still some confusion in her mind about that.

“Sounds to me like he's up to something, Willow. Remember, the demon can be very appealing when it wants something. Something like your confidence, your trust, your body, or your life, for instance. Don't fall for it, please,” Buffy begged her.

“Is it so hard to believe that maybe, just maybe, he felt something for me,” Willow asked, a little hurt. Buffy was the one who was supposed to understand her, believe in her. Yet she didn't seem to trust Willow. Or maybe it's just my judgment she doesn't trust, Willow thought painfully. Maybe she shouldn't have told Buffy what had happened after all.

“All I'm saying, Willow,” Buffy began, squeezing her friend's hand gently, “is that you still need to be careful. I'm not saying that he couldn't care for you, I'm just saying that there is a chance that he might be trying to trick you.”

To be truthful, Buffy didn't believe a word of it. From what she had observed, Bloody Red had been just as cruel and ruthless as any other vampire she'd ever come across, with the exception of her soulmate Angel. To imagine that this 'Bloody Red' cared for Willow at all was a leap of faith that Buffy just wasn't prepared to make. She knew that Willow was going through a rough time, but she had to be sure that her friend understood how devious and tricky a vampire could be, especially a Master Vampire who had an as-yet unknown agenda.

Willow stifled yet another yawn, and Buffy realized that she needed to let her friend go home and get some much-needed sleep. She stood up and stretched, then took off towards the library for a couple of hours of training with Giles. Maybe he could think of some way to reach Willow, because she suspected that Willow still didn't take this situation seriously enough.

“Call me tonight, Will, after you've had some sleep. We still need to talk,” Buffy said in her best 'we're not done with this subject yet, young woman' voice.

Willow grabbed the reprieve she had been given gratefully. All she really wanted right now was to spend a couple of hours of quality time with head on her pillow.

“I'll call later, I promise. Bye Buffy,” she replied sleepily, waving good-bye to Buffy's retreating figure. In the door, up the stairs and into her bedroom in record time, Willow threw off her clothes and snuggled under her covers. No homework now, she thought. Sleep.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid. Willow thought the words over and over to herself, beating in time to the sound of her feet on the pavement. She knew better than this. Being out alone after dark was one of the cardinal sins of a slayerette. But she hadn't had any real choice in the matter. Not really.

She blamed her parents for her current predicament. Her mother had called at 4:45 from yet another convention in New York. Or was it New Jersey? New Orleans? At any rate Willow was reasonably sure it started with the letter N.

Her mother was just *desperate* for a book that they had at the house and insisted that Willow drop it at the nearest Fed-Ex office so it could be in her hot little hand first thing the next morning. Apparently they didn't have any bookstores in New York, Willow thought bitterly. Or was it New Jersey? Whatever.

So Willow made tracks to the store and dropped off the book, ensuring that it would be there in time to save the day for mom. Now she was on her way home, after dark, all by herself. Hence her current mantra of 'stupid, stupid, stupid.' She had *tried* to find an escort, really she had. But Xander wasn't answering his phone and Buffy was training with Giles and the clock was ticking. Willow decided to go it alone and hope for the best. After all, it was early still. Hopefully she'd be able to slip by unnoticed by all assorted demons and vampires in the city.

Only 2 blocks from home, she thought. Almost safe. That was when she heard it, the soft sounds of footfalls behind her. She quickened her pace, hoping she was just imagining things. Or maybe it was just someone trying to play a trick on her. Please, she pleaded silently, please don't let it be who I think it is.

“Excuse me, miss,” said a voice behind her. She slowed, turned, but continued to edge her way towards home and safety. The man looked normal enough. Fairly non-descript, really. Medium height, medium brown hair, medium brown eyes. Altogether normal, altogether human.

“Yes? Um, can I help you,” she asked hesitantly, ready to run at the slightest movement on his part.

“Please, young woman,” he started, taking a small step and then stumbling towards her. She came closer, holding out a hand to help him. Suddenly he recovered and grabbed her arm, jerking her towards him. As she realized how truly stupid she had been, she saw an evil grin replace the earlier harmless look he'd given her earlier. Irony stared her in the face. She had been trying for so long to stay clear of demons and vampires that she had completely forgotten that there were other truly evil beings out there, beings that were evil by choice and not by nature.

“Now this is nice,” he whispered, arms reaching around to enclose her body and pull her up against his hard warm body in a parody of a lover's hug. “Oh, and in case you had any thoughts about screaming, here's a little reminder.” She saw him take out a small knife and put it up to her throat, stopping just short of piercing the skin. Tears flooded her terror-filled eyes, but she stilled her struggles.

He used his leg to sweep her feet out from under her and dropped her to the pavement, then dragged her by her arms into a nearby yard. As her mind raced, trying to calmly and rationally figure out a way out of the situation. Screaming was out, and as long as he had the knife, so was struggling. As he sat down and straddled her thighs, she gave up rational thought and was about to start praying to anyone and everyone she could think of.

Slowly, obviously enjoying himself, he cut the buttons holding her shirt together. One by one they fell away and soon her shirt was open and he was looking hungrily at her white cotton bra. Leisurely the knife came back again, reaching for the straps of the bra. Then, before Willow knew what was happening, she was free. The oppressive weight that sat on her thighs was gone, and when she looked up she could see her assailant fly across the lawn.

“Oh thank god, it must be Buffy,” she thought. She tried to get up but her panicked legs wouldn't obey her commands and she sunk back onto the soft grass once again. Then she saw who her rescuer was, and all the terror came flooding back to her face. It was Bloody Red and he was heading straight towards her. His expression was impassive but rage burning in his eyes.

Move, legs, move, she ordered. But it was like one of those nightmares where every step away from the danger brought you two steps closer. All she could manage was a slow crawl away from. Soon he was standing over her shivering body, looking down at her with those angry eyes.

“Get up,” he demanded.

She just sat there staring up at him, sure that each breath would be her last. “I can't,” she said quietly.

“Bloody hell, Red,” he swore. “Haven't we done this before?” And just like the last time, all those years ago, he swung her into his arms. She tried to struggle, tried to get away from him, but he wasn't letting her go. Slowly, with her fighting him every inch of the way, he walked the two blocks remaining to her home.

As they reached the front door he put her gently onto her feet. He even helped her regain her balance while she looked for her key and unlocked the door. She looked at him questioningly, wondering if he was really going to let her go inside. He let go of her and motioned towards the door. Needing no further invitation, she quickly walked inside and immediately collapsed onto the floor again.

“Call the Slayer,” he told her.

She shook her head, dazed, not sure why he was doing what he was doing. Why did he want her to call Buffy? Was he going to try to attack her?

“Bugger,” he yelled at her. “Fine, I'll do it myself,” he told her, pulling out a small cell phone.

Vampires with cell phones? The very idea was so ludicrous that she started to giggle. Slowly the giggles turned into deep sobs and she curled into a small ball of Willow-shaped agony and wept as though her life was over.

Bloody Red looked at her form with something in his eyes. Could it have been concern? Quickly calling information, he was connected to the Slayer's number, and spoke quickly into the phone. “Come take care of your friend,” he commanded.

Willow couldn't hear both sides of the conversation but she heard Buffy pepper him with questions, her voice getting higher and louder as he listened silently.

“You know who this is. And you know whom I'm talking about. Just get over here. Now, damnit,” he finished and disconnected the call.

“Willow, oh god, Willow,” Buffy screamed as she ran across Willow's front yard and up the front steps. As she neared the door she could see Willow's still form on the floor, the only sign of life the tears making tracks down her face.

She grabbed Willow and then quickly let her go again as Willow thrashed and fought her to get to the other side of the room, sitting scrunched up in the big easy chair.

Buffy took in her face, her tattered clothes, and knew immediately what had happened. “That bastard,” she spit out the words. “I…I won't kill him, at least not immediately. I'll torture him. For hours, days, weeks. Oh god, Willow, what did he do to you? Did he…” she trailed off, unable to say the words. Tears slid silently down her cheeks, mirroring the tears on Willow's face.

Finally Buffy's words seemed to penetrate Willow's agony. She got a grip on herself, her brain slowly taking control of her emotions. She couldn't let her friend go after Bloody Red, not for this.

“Buffy, it wasn't him. It wasn't Bloody Red,” she managed to whisper. It hurt so much to stop crying, to try to regain control. But she had to do it; she had to make sure Buffy understood.

“What do you mean, Willow,” Buffy asked her in confusion. “He called me. He told me to come over here. He obviously hurt you, knowing it would hurt me as well.”

“No, Buffy. No, he saved me. I was…was…this guy, he tried to…” she couldn't finish it. Couldn't say the words. They had come too close to being true.

“I know, I know,” Buffy said. She came and sat on the floor next to Willow's chair, hesitantly reaching out to take her hand. When Willow allowed that contact, she continued to talk. “So it was someone else who…attacked you? Another vampire?”

“It was, oh god, Buffy, it wasn't a demon. Wasn't a vampire either. It was just an ordinary man. But he was strong. Stronger than me. And…and he had a knife too. I tried, really I did,” her eyes begged Buffy to understand.

“Shhh, it's okay. I know you fought as hard as you could, Will. Sometimes the evil is just too strong.” Buffy reached out and stroked Willow's arm, her shoulder, her hair, anything that she could do to give comfort to her friend's shattered psyche. They sat there like that for several minutes; each wishing there was a way to rid the world of such evil.

Finally Buffy broke the silence. “Willow,” she asked softly, “how did you get home? How did you get free?”

Willow was quiet for so long that Buffy wondered if she was going to answer the question. She was about to ask it again when Willow finally looked down and answered with two simple words, “Bloody Red.”

Buffy looked confused so Willow went on, “I thought he was going to to rape me. He was so close, so close,” she stopped again, then tilted her chin determinedly and then continued, “and then he was gone. He was flying through the air. I thought it was you,” she confessed eagerly. “Then I saw who it was. And I thought I was dead. I was sure of it. But but he just came over and picked me up and took me home. He didn't try to come inside or anything.”

“Let me get this straight,” Buffy replied cautiously, “he just picked you up and took you home. He didn't try to hurt you or bite you or anything?”

“No, he was nice. Well, by vampire standards, at least,” Willow amended. “He told me to call you, but I just couldn't move, not yet. So he called you. He had a cell phone.” The thought of a vampire with a cell phone still amused Willow. A cautious smile crept across her face at the thought.

Buffy smiled too. Whatever his motivations might have been, Bloody Red seemed to have done something good. I'm sure he didn't do it on purpose though, she thought uncharitably. Still, Willow was with her, in one piece, and with the help of some good friends and some time, she might be able to make it through this.

“You need to get a bag together. I'm taking you to my house. I'm not taking no for an answer, okay?”

“Okay,” Willow acquiesced, more relieved than anything. The thought of spending the night alone in the house was more than she could bear. She wandered upstairs and threw clothes aimlessly into a small overnight bag. Once she was reasonably sure she had one of everything in the bag, she moved to the bathroom and again mechanically did her best to put everything she needed into it.

Eventually she wandered back downstairs and she and Buffy left for the comfort of a warm full house and the chocolate sundae that Buffy had promised her would make everything all right.

Willow was sitting at her keyboard waiting for inspiration to strike. A week had passed since the attack and Willow was her best to get things back to normal. She had spent the last week with Buffy and her mother but had now reluctantly bid goodbye to the security of the Summers' household and had returned to her own empty house. Buffy and Joyce had both asked her to stay longer, but she knew that sooner or later she would have to go it alone again. A week, she thought. Seven days. A nice round number.

I can do this, she told herself.

She opened her computer diary and tried to think of something to say but the words just wouldn't come. She hadn't been able to update it for a week ad there were so many things she wanted to say. So many things that they all seemed to get caught in one big logjam that refused to break.

She stared blankly at the screen until a small movement at the corner of her eye caught her attention. Lounging out on her terrace was Bloody Red. He stood silently, eyes concentrating on her, cigarette dangling from his lips. He had been absent from her life for the last week, but every so often she had a strange feeling that she was being watched. Had it been him, or just her imagination? She couldn't be sure.

Willow got up and walked slowly to the door, eyes locked on his. When she opened door and leaned against the doorjamb, he slipped over to her and took up a position opposite her on his own side of the door.

“So you're back, then,” he started.

“I'm back,” she agreed. “I I wanted to thank you,” she said, “but I didn't get a chance, then. So I'll say it now. Thank you. I don't understand why you did it, but I'm grateful.”

“Don't know exactly why I did it, myself,” he replied. “We vamps act a lot on instinct, I guess. That's as good a reason as any, I suppose.”

She looked into his expressionless face and wished she could figure out what he was thinking. Sometimes he seemed almost understandable. But each time she thought she had him figured out, he'd change like a chameleon, and she'd be left with an entirely new puzzle.

“Guess you owe me one, luv,” he said with a gentle smirk.

“I guess I do,” she agreed quietly.

“You know what they say, luv. When a man saves another person's life, that person owes the man his life.”

Willow knew where he was heading with this and figured she'd cut him off before he could work a guilt trip on her.

“Good try, mister, but you didn't save my life, not really. He wasn't going to kill me. So instead of owing you my life, I only owe you “ she stopped herself quickly, as she realized where that train of thought was leading her. She could feel the flames of embarrassment licking her face, all the way down to her toes. I *so* did not almost say that, she thought to herself.

He grinned at her embarrassment, eyes mocking. “What was that, luv? Did you say something, hmm?”

“Shut up,” she muttered through gritted teeth. How did he always manage to do that to her? Make her feel like some sort of immature child. She was an adult, for heaven's sake. A practicing Wicca. She had done things that most people her age never even imagined. But every time she faced him, she turned back into that shy insecure girl she used to be. And he reveled in it.

“So we both agree that you owe me,” he said softly, his voice tingling up and down her skin. “And I'm guessing a quick shag is out of the question, then,” he added, eyes twinkling. “Or you could come out here and give me a quick drink. I promise it won't hurt…much,” he continued with a smile that promised both heaven and hell.

She just looked at him, eyes flashing with controlled anger. She should have known that he would never have helped her without an ulterior motive.

“I have a compromise, though,” he told her quietly.

“What, what is your compromise,” asked Willow breathlessly.

“You said before that you'd never call me William. Would you call me Will,” he asked, his eyes staring deep into hers.

“That's that's it,” she asked, eyes widening in surprise. “I call you Will, and my debt is paid in full?” She couldn't believe that he would let her go that easily. What was he up to?

“That's it,” he confirmed, expression serious.

“Okay,” Willow replied, confusion etched on her face.

“Okay…”

“Okay, Will,” she added, trying to get used to the sound of the name. In a strange way it seemed right to call him that. He was no longer William, but not Spike either. And Bloody Red was just such a bloody mouthful, she thought to herself with a giggle.

He watched the emotions play across her face. Surprise, mistrust, resolve, and, strangely enough, humor. She was as much of an enigma to him as he was to her.

She stifled a yawn with the back of her hand, remembering that she hadn't had a really peaceful night's sleep in over a week. Will noticed her movement and decided to let her go.

“I'll say goodnight then,” he told her, his face once again a frustrating mask.

“Thank you, Will. For everything, I mean,” she said. “And goodnight.” With that, she closed the door and slid into bed. She could feel his eyes on her still form, watching her from out on the terrace. For some reason, instead of disturbing her, the thought comforted her. Quickly she fell into a deep, restful sleep.

Willow turned and kicked, sending the vampire who had been trying to bite her onto his back. Quickly she threw the holy water into his eyes and while he was writhing in pain, she struck, sticking the stake straight into his unbeating heart. Her movements were awkward but effective. Then to her left, another vampire. Same moves, same results. But there were just too many of them. Grunts and screams split the night like lightning as a still substantial number of vampires attacked, separating Willow and her friends from one another.

She had taken out three by herself, but Willow could feel herself slipping. Her breath heaved in her chest and her movements seemed slower and slower. She glanced over to Buffy and Xander, hoping that one of them could come help her. But they were surrounded as well, and although they were fighting their way towards her, they still had a substantial amount of resistance.

Kick, twirl, stake, move away, and thrust, her movements continued. Then it happened. She tripped over her own feet and she was down on the ground. Fatigue had finally caught up with her and she was unable to stop herself.

Before she could move the vampire was on her, her gray eyes staring at Willow hungrily. Willow struggled ineffectively, arms and feet trying to dislodge the vampire that was straddling her stomach. As the vampire's blood-red lips moved inexorably towards Willow's throat, her thoughts turned to all the things she'd never done. I've never been in a hot air balloon, she thought to herself. Or made love on the beach. Or driven a sports car. So maybe her thoughts weren't terribly profound, she thought, but hey, imminent death here.

She felt the rush of air as the vampire's lips traced the pulse in her neck. Then, as she screamed an ear-splitting scream, she felt the fangs sink into her neck. The pressure and the pain were incredible. She screamed again, but the vampire had placed her hand over Willow's mouth and all that came out was a muffled groan. She felt her blood leave her body, pulled forcibly by the vampire's mouth. Her consciousness started slipping away. Slowly the effort to stay awake became too much to bear. Her eyes closed and she started drifting away on a soft cloud, the noises of the fight coming from further and further away.

Suddenly she felt a tearing and the fangs were gone. She was free. But she couldn't bring herself back, her consciousness was too far away, floating miles from her body. She struggled to return, willing her mind back into its mortal casing.

Then, when it seemed like she might be able to do it, might be able to fight her way back to consciousness, she felt another body on hers. As she sensed another face next to hers, felt hands on her cheeks keeping her head immobilized, she knew that this time she would not be able to fight back. She was going to die. She felt the head come towards her, the brush of lips on the still-leaking bite. But instead of tearing into her throat like the last vampire had, this one licked at the bite marks gently, like a cat lapping at a bowl of cream. Slowly, Willow felt the flow of her blood stop.

Finally she had the strength to open her eyes. As she suspected, the blue eyes above her belonged to Will.

“Why?”

“Why what,” he answered, looking into her deep green eyes.

“Why are you helping me? Not that I'm complaining,” she continued quickly. “Death wasn't really on my list of things to do today.”

“Could have fooled me,” he grumbled, giving her a look that she couldn't quite define. “Why the hell are you here, Red? You're not a Slayer. This is her fight, not yours.”

“Just because I'm not the Slayer doesn't mean I can't contribute,” she whined. She was so sick of people telling her that she couldn't fight,

“Contribute to the body count, maybe,” he snapped back. “You nearly got yourself killed tonight. If it weren't for me, you would be just so much dead meat right now. You realize that, don't you?”

She stared at him, trying to figure out if he cared. And if he did care, why? Was he afraid someone else would kill her before he had a chance to?

“Get away from her, you bastard!” Willow looked up and saw Xander running towards her, fury in his eyes.

“I'm okay, Xander. He was helping me. He…he saved my life.” Will got off Willow and pulled her up to her feet, throwing her roughly into Xander's arms.

“Take better care of her, she's not tough enough for this,” he told Xander before he turned and melted into the brush behind them.

Willow started to feel dizzy again, sinking to the soft earth still wrapped in Xander's arms. He laid her out on the ground, sitting beside her and pulling her head into his lap. As they sat quietly, he ran his hand through her hair and murmured soft nonsense into her ear.

She heard Buffy approach, concern in her eyes when she realized that Willow was hurt.

“Oh god, Willow, are you okay? I tried to get to you but they kept ringing me in and I couldn't kill them fast enough. I've never seen so many at once. I thought I saw Bloody Red, but when I looked over again, he was gone. Did he do this to you,” she asked, eyeing the deep marks on her neck.

“No, he didn't feel like sloppy seconds, I guess,” Xander answered with a sick grin.

Willow and Buffy shared an “eww” look and Buffy thwacked Xander on the head.

“Jeez, between you and Anya, I'm going to be black and blue for days,” he griped.

“Okay, I don't *even* want to hear about your and Anya's sex life,” Buffy fired back, watching him turn red.

“Again with the eww,” Willow said, giggling softly. She lifted her head and surprisingly enough, the world stayed still and didn't swim in front of her eyes or swirl around in a dizzying rush. Encouraged by her success, she leaned against Xander's sitting form and pushed herself upright.

“C'mon Willow, let's get you home,” Buffy said, supporting Willow on one side as Xander rose and took her other arm. Willow wanted to protest that she could do it on her own, but she knew it was a lie. As much as she wanted to be strong, she knew that things had come very close to losing her life tonight.

As the three ambled their way to Willow's house, cracking jokes and laughing like the children they were, they never noticed the shadowy figure who followed them, his blue eyes never straying from the redhead.

Willow raced through the woods, tree branches tearing at her clothes, whipping into her face. Ever second she wasted terrified her. Her thoughts went back to her friends, trapped, possibly hurt, or maybe even dead.

They had been doing the usual patrolling thing when they noticed a strange light coming from one of the older mausoleums. Buffy, Xander and Anya had all entered while Willow had bent down to tie her shoe. As she unbent and stretched upright again, she heard Xander's voice, soon followed by Buffy's.

“What the hell?”

“Shit! Don't come in, Willow. It's a trap.”

“What? What sort of a trap. What are you talking about?” she asked fearfully.

“A trap where you're stuck like an animal and can't get out, *that* sort of trap,” Anya responded snidely.

“Buffy, what do you want me to do? Should I go get Giles? Or maybe I should go to the magic shop and try to reverse whatever's going on? Do you see anyone else in there with you? Will you be safe for a while, do you think?”

Buffy's calm voice floated back out to her, alleviating some of her panic. “We're fine for now, Willow. We're just stuck. I can't lift my feet at all, it's like I'm stuck in flypaper. Suddenly I have a whole new affinity for flies.”

“Go get Giles,” she continued. “He'll know what to do about this. Just make it quick, okay?”

“I don't like the idea of leaving you in there,” Willow considered, “but you're right, there's nothing I can do by myself. I'll get Giles and we'll figure out how to get you out of there.”

“Run like the wind, young grasshopper,” came Xander's teasing voice. Although how he could joke about this was beyond Willow. She just frowned and shook her head.

“Okay, leaving now, back soon,” she said, as she started jogging the short distance to Giles' apartment.

“Giles, Giles, are you here?” she yelled into the dusky apartment. “Please, please, be here!” she prayed. Her eyes raked every inch of the space, looking for some sign of Giles. Then her eyes saw the note in his careful handwriting, taped to the television. She walked over and picked it up, eager for some clue that would lead her to the absent watcher.

“Willow, Buffy, Xander, et. al, I've gone to the store to get some orange juice and other items. I will return shortly. Please tell Xander not to eat the rest of my corn flakes, as I am almost out. Be back in a bit. Giles”

“Damn, damn, damn, damn,” not usually one to use such language, Willow none-the-less felt that it was justified in circumstances such as this. When had he left? 'Back in a bit,' he had written. Could he be a little less vague, she thought irritably. And why couldn't he get a stupid pager or a cell phone? She needed him now, not 'in a bit.' What should she do now? Try to track down Giles? Try to go back and help Buffy and the others? Or pick up some ingredients for a spell? She sighed in frustration and uncertainty.

Well she couldn't just stand here and do nothing. A thought came to her and she pawed through Giles' weapons stash, grabbing as many knives, blades, and even small guns as she could carry concealed on herself. She'd go back to the cemetery and see if she could get some of these to the captives. That way they could at least defend themselves if something came for them. In the meantime, she jotted a quick note, succinctly explaining the situation and what she had already done, and taped it to the television directly underneath Giles' note. Hopefully he would see it and head over when he returned. That was the best she could do for now, she thought, as she raced back out the door, slamming it behind her.

Once again she flew through the trees, every muscle in her body aching and protesting. Her mind was caught up with frightening possibilities, her body on autopilot. She didn't even notice the dark figure blocking her path until she ran smack into the hard body, sending them both tumbling to the ground. She came to rest with that dark figure lying on top of her.

“Not that I necessarily mind the view, little one, but what's the big rush,” drawled Will, looking down into her frightened eyes with predatory interest.

“Get off of me,” she gritted through clenched teeth. “I've I'm late, I have to go. Now,” she told him, trying to force his body to the side so that she could continue her flight. But he wasn't going to let her go that easily. He looked questioningly into her eyes, but they gave nothing away. Finally he rolled to the side and then moved gracefully up to his feet.

“And just where were you headed, by yourself, in the middle of the night, utterly defenseless,” he asked her silkily. Hadn't she learned anything from their previous encounters? You'd think she'd figure out that it just wasn't smart to be out alone after dark. Maybe she wasn't quite as smart as he had thought she was.

“I I can't tell you,” she mumbled, trying to inch her way past him in order to take flight again.

“If you try to get away, I'll just follow you. You might as well tell me what's got you in such a tizzy. That's the only way you're going to get rid of me.”

Precious seconds ticked by for every word they exchanged. Willow knew she had to get away from him. She couldn't tell him what she was doing, she reasoned, because the first thing he'd try to do was attack Buffy. Although maybe he'd get stuck in there too. She hadn't thought of that before…maybe she could tell him. Or let him follow her. Whichever.

“Okay, I'm only giving in and telling you this because I'm in a hurry and you're wasting my time,” she told him with a touch of annoyance in her tone.

He grinned at her irritation, folding his arms over his chest and looking at her with amusement shining in his eyes. “Do go on,” he told her.

“We were patrolling the cemetery and there was this mausoleum with this weird light emanating from it. So Buffy, Xander and Anya went in, and now they're all stuck there.” The words came out quickly, breathlessly, her hurry jumbling them all together into one long sentence.

Will looked at the small child in front of him. Her heaving breasts, her impatience, her irritation, they enticed him in a strange way that he couldn't understand. Slowly an evil plan formed in his mind. Evil, self-serving…fun. Yes, he knew exactly what he was going to do. He was going to help her. But his help would come at a price, and it would not be cheap.

“You what,” Willow asked in confusion. The silence of the park swallowed her words, but she knew he heard her. She gazed into his eyes, but they gave her no help. She took a step closer to him, facing him, close enough to touch his face.

“I said I might be willing to help you,” Will repeated. “If the price was right, that is,” he added with a smile. He loved watching her confusion. Her face was so very expressive.

“How how could you help us?”

“This particular trap, I've come across it once or twice in my time. I think I know how to get your friends out of it. Would you be interested…” he let his words trail off, hoping that they would catch her attention.

Willow looked at him uncertainly. Could she trust him? Would he really help, as he promised, or would he betray them all and kill Buffy the minute he saw she was defenseless?

“How can I trust you? How do I know you won't just kill them while they're trapped?”

“Well that's where the deal comes in, little one. I have something that you want, and in order to get it, you have to give me something that I want,” he told her, as if explaining it to a small child. “That way, we both have an incentive to keep our side of the bargain.”

Suspecting that she wasn't going to like the answer she received, she asked hesitantly, “What is it that you want?”

His hand came up and touched her cheek in a soft caress. She flinched, but as he continued his touch, she stood firm, refusing to give him control. “I want you,” he whispered huskily, seductively. His hand moved down to her neck, his fingers warmed by her soft skin.

Her mind reeled in confusion. He wanted her? His hand was still touching her, teasing her. She could barely think straight. “What do you mean, you want me? You want me for what? What what would I have to do?”

He reluctantly stepped back, his hand already missing the feel of her skin. He looked into her eyes, making certain that she understood what he was proposing. His voice turned cold and matter-of-fact as he described the rules of his game. “You would have to give yourself to me completely, body and mind. You will obey me absolutely, no matter what I ask of you. I will possess your body as much as I wish, whenever I wish. In return for your friends' lives, you give me one year of your own life.”

The words flowed over her like a harsh wind. She couldn't believe she was hearing this. He expected her to be some sort of toy, to be used and discarded as he wished. No way was she going to agree to that. That was slavery of the worst kind.

Before she was even aware of it, her hand lashed out to slap his face. It connected but he barely even acknowledged the action. He simply continued to look at her, waiting for her answer.

“I'll see you in hell before I ever agree to your terms,” she told him through gritted teeth. She would gladly help Buffy kill him for this.

Buffy! In the turmoil of the last few minutes, she had completely forgotten her friends and their predicament. She needed she needed to do something to help them. What though?

“Fine, it's all the same to me,” he told her, a faint smile on his face. “But just remember, your friends are in a rather … precarious position at the moment. And sooner or later, the spider will return to see what has gotten tangled in his web. Once that happens, they're done for.”

Willow considered her options. She could beg, cry, plead, but she was sure that none of those things would convince the vampire in front of her to help her. She could continue on to the cemetery with her weapons, but would they be enough? And would Giles be able to reach them before things got ugly? And if he did, would he even know how to help them? All the possibilities whirled around her head, making her feel helpless and alone.

Will brought her thought back to him as he prepared to leave. “Well, I guess I have no reason to stick around here. Better get going. Things to do, people to kill, all that. Nice talkin' to you, Red,” he said, as he turned to disappear into the night.

“Wait,” she hissed urgently, afraid to let him go. Could she actually be considering his proposal? Oh god, how could she? But she needed to help them and this seemed like the surest way, the only way. “These conditions are you willing to negotiate at all?”

He turned back to her and smiled. The girl was actually considering his proposal. The key to the game now was to let her think that she was gaining something. That way she'd have less trouble giving in to him. Sure, she'd hate him, at least at first. But that was all just part of the game, part of the fun.

“What did you have in mind then,” he asked, seemingly wary of her intentions.

She considered for a moment, wondering how to phrase her conditions. “Well, first of all, you have to leave them alone. For the entire year. I can't spend all that time with you, worrying about when you're going to kill them.”

He considered her request and decided that he could “live” with it. “All right, I can do that. As long as none of them come after me, I'll agree to a truce. Do we have a deal?”

“Not so fast, mister. I've got more. Next, no biting. I come out of this deal at the end of a year with my neck just the way it is now, thank you very much. No vampire munchies, okay?”

He looked longingly at her neck and breathed a sigh of regret. Well, just because she said no biting now didn't mean that she wouldn't change her mind later. He'd just have to take his time to convince her.

“Is that it, doll, or are there more conditions you'd like to list? 'Cuz you know, your friends aren't getting any safer, the longer we stand here chatting.” That should take her mind off of coming up with more ridiculous conditions, he thought smugly.

“Do you agree?” she asked, pushing for his word.

“Yeah, I agree.” She looked at him skeptically, wanting more reassurance. “I promise, I give you my word. Is that what you want to hear?”

“Fine, that'll do. Can we go now?”

“Lead the way, luv,” he said, giving her an appreciative glance as she strode past him. As he followed her back to the cemetery he enjoyed the way her hips sway gently and her hair swung back and forth as she walked. He realized just how incredibly fortunate he was. The next year was going to be *very* interesting.

“Hi guys,” Willow said shyly as she approached the mausoleum. The strange light still emanated from within, bathing Buffy, Anya and Xander, and casting strange shadows on the walls. They seemed to be in the middle of a heated debate about the virtues of plastic versus paper bags. Anya seemed to be all about the paper bags, while Xander and Buffy sang the virtues of plastic. Hearing Willow's voice, they turned towards her as well as they could.

“Where's Giles,” asked Buffy. Her alert eyes took in Willow's form, her gasping for breath, and the extra weapons she held. She also noticed that her friend seemed quite nervous, but she couldn't see any obvious reasons for her distress. Well, other than the current predicament that they found themselves in. But even that didn't account for the severity of Willow's edginess.

“I couldn't find him. He was out somewhere and I didn't know what to do.” Willow looked perturbed. Buffy knew that there was more to the story than her friend was telling them. Were they in even more trouble than she thought?

“I I brought someone back with me. He says that he'll help.” Willow was looking everywhere but at her friends. This was going to be bad, Buffy thought.

Willow moved a bit to the side and Buffy saw who was standing behind her. The blond vampire stared back at her with a blank expression, his manner giving nothing away. No, Buffy thought, this wasn't just going to be bad. This was going to be a disaster.

“What's he doing here,” she said sharply.

“He's going to help you,” Willow answered, eyes troubled. She took another glance at Will and forged ahead. “We made a deal. He's going to help you get out.”

“Why, so he can take a shot at me himself? Why is he being so big-hearted all of a sudden? Maybe it's just my overly suspicious nature, Willow, but I don't trust him.”

“We have a deal, Buffy. He'll get you out and then leave you alone. He gave me his word, and that means a lot to a vampire.” At least Willow hoped it did.

“What's this deal you keep talking about, Wills,” Xander asked from inside.

“None of your business, dead meat,” Will responded. He turned to look at Willow. “We doin' it now, or are you three going to talk this to death? I'd like to get this over with before the demon who set this trap returns to pick up his free happy meals.”

“Buffy, Xander, Anya? Will you let him help you out? And let him go, no killing him while he's helping?”

“Yeah, I'll let him, but he takes one step out of line, and his chest will become intimately familiar with my spike.” She gave the blond her best menacing look. “You got that, pasty-face?”

“Yeah, Slayer, whatever. Like I'd waste my time going anywhere near you if I didn't have to,” the vampire grumbled. Giving one quick look around, Will entered the mausoleum. He approached Buffy carefully, holding his hands in the air in a mocking gesture of surrender. When he was next to her, he reached out very slowly, deliberately, and touched her on the shoulder. He pulled his hand away and she was free. He moved on to Xander and Anya, repeating his movements with the two of them, then followed the three back out into the cemetery and an anxiously waiting Willow.

Willow looked at him in confusion. “What was that? How did you…?”

“It's a fairly simple trap,” he explained. “A vampire chooses a mausoleum and sets up a light that someone's bound to investigate. When they do, they're trapped and held until the vampire returns. All he has to do when he gets back is touch them and they're released. And it isn't that particular even…doesn't have to be the same vamp that set the trap that does the touching. Any of us could have gotten you out. With the proper incentive, that is,” he added, his eyes falling onto Willow's nervous form.

“What incentive is he talking about,” Buffy demanded of Willow. Something about the interplay between her friend and the vampire was starting to concern her. What had Willow promised him in return for their safety?

“I'll leave the redhead to explain that to you lot,” he said with a smirk. “You, I'll see you later,” he added, looking straight at Willow. Without giving them a chance to question him further, he took off into the night.

“Okay, Willow, what did you promise him? I'm *not* giving him any of my blood. Or some kind of get-out-of-jail-free card. What exactly were these terms?” Buffy asked.

“Yeah, he gets no blood from me either,” Anya piped up. “And Xander's blood all belongs to me, I have it in writing. So he's off limits too.”

Buffy and Willow looked at Xander in amusement. He had a slightly silly look on his face. “Yeah, well, one night we were talking and she just kind of insisted. She wrote up a contract and had me sign it. Said that if I refused, she'd never have sex with me again.”

Anya nodded in agreement. “And who looks silly now, I'd like to know,” she asked. “Sure, you thought it was a dumb idea and all, but tonight it just might save your ass, buster! Or, well, at least your blood.”

The slayer and her friend exchanged glances of befuddled amusement. But Buffy wasn't going to be diverted that easily. She looked at Willow again, and repeated her question from earlier.

“Willow, what did you promise him?”

"You what?!" Xander and Buffy wailed in unison.

"Wow, that was in stereo," Anya observed. "Really cool. Well it was," she insisted, as Buffy and Xander both shot her dirty looks.

"Willow, did you really just say what I think you just said," Xander asked, looking at his friend as if she had just grown an extra arm.

"Ye – Yes, I did," she confirmed. "I didn't know what else to do! You guys were all stuck, and Giles wasn't at his house, and I was scared, and he seemed so nice and like he really wanted to help, and, well – I didn't know what else to do." The words tumbled out her mouth, one after another, without giving Willow a second to take a breath.

"So let me get this straight," Buffy insisted. "You're going to be his – what, his girlfriend? Love slave? What do I call this? You're going to be *his* for a year. And during this year, I'm supposed to not kill him because you promised him I'd leave him alone? On top of everything else, Willow, how can you expect me to do that? Have you forgotten that he's a vampire? The very thing I kill for a living. Well, okay, so nobody really pays me for it, but it's what I do. How could you expect me to go along with this? Why are *you* going along with this?"

"Because I promised I would. He told me that he would keep his word, and I promised to do the same. I know it's not smart. I know I probably should have waited for Giles to come help us, but I was scared, Buffy. I didn't know what else to do. And I kept picturing you guys all stuck and defenseless and – I just couldn't stop myself."

"Are you sure you really tried, Willow," Buffy asked her angrily.

"What are you talking about, Buff? Of course she did. This is Willow we're talking about. She's not in the habit of givin' it up to every vamp that comes around," Xander was as shocked as anyone, but he couldn't believe that Buffy would say something like that to Willow.

"I don't know, Xander. She's got feelings for this guy. I can tell. Maybe she saw an easy way for them to be together without having to take responsibility for her actions, and she took it."

"Buffy," Willow cried, tears starting to well up in her eyes, "how could you think that I would do something like that? We're friends, you know me, you know I'd never have done something like this if I thought that there was any other choice."

"I'm beginning to think that I don't know you as well as I thought I did, Wills." Buffy looked her straight in the eye and demanded an answer. "Are you going to honor this 'agreement' you made, Willow? Because if you do, I can't be around you. I'm sorry, really I am. But I can't trust you if you're going to him every night. Who knows what you might tell him in by accident, or your sleep, without even meaning to?"

Willow looked at her friends, friends that she didn't think she could live without. But it looked like she was going to have to. She put her face in her hands, wiping away all traces of tears. She could be strong. She would have to. Maybe they didn't appreciate it, but she *was* doing this for them.

"So this is good-bye then, because I have to do what I promised. I'm sorry that you can't trust me, Buffy. I've never done anything but try to be a friend to you," she said the last words quietly, as if her heart were breaking, "I guess I've failed."

Buffy watched as her friend turned to go, her expression one of great sorrow. How did things get so bad so quickly, she wondered.

Anya watched the redhead walk away, her head bowed and shoulders slumped, and then looked over at the Slayer. "Things aren't as black and white as you try to make them seem, Buffy. Willow is being honorable, in her own way. Maybe you don't agree with what she's doing, but you should at least try to be supportive. That's what a *friend* would have done." With those words still ringing in Buffy's ears, Anya took off to catch up with Willow. Maybe the Slayer had forsaken her, but Anya wasn't willing to lose her friend over this.

Buffy looked over at Xander, expecting him to leave her like Anya had just done. Instead, he crossed the space between them and wrapped her into his arms in a comforting hug. "I'm sorry, Buffy," he whispered. "I know that this is rough on both of you. Maybe after things calm down and everyone has had a chance to adjust, we can re-evaluate the situation. Until then, I'm here for you. I'll always be here for you." Arm in arm, the two friends walked away.

Willow was living her life on pins and needles. Three days had passed since she had given her promise to Will. Three days since she had lost just about every friend she had ever had. She still had Anya, but there were two large holes in her heart, one shaped like Xander and the other like Buffy. She was still angry about what she felt was Buffy's betrayal, but even more, she was saddened and missing her friends like crazy.

In the meantime, she had tidied up her affairs. There was really no other way to describe it. She told her parents that she was going to get a room in the college dorms. They seemed surprised, but she had explained that she wanted to have the full 'college experience' and that that was part of it. Now that she was moving out she would not have to worry about having to explain prolonged absences. In addition, she had purchased a cell phone so that her parents could get a hold of her when they needed to.

She went to her professors and was able to change her schedule to all afternoon classes, leaving her mornings and evenings free. Willow figured that she would probably have to adjust her schedule so that it coincided with Will's. Somehow she didn't think that he would be too accepting of the fact that she was spending all his waking hours at school, and all his sleeping hours studying. So her schedule had to change, and that was that.

So now she waited merely for Will to come and claim her. Rather a melodramatic way to put it, she thought, but it suited her mood of the moment. She sat in her room, typing away at her computer. She could feel him out there on the balcony, watching her. Why didn't he just knock and get it over with, she wondered. Then she did hear the knock, and wished that she could run as fast as she could to anywhere but here.

She walked slowly to the door; each step closer making her heart beat just a little more frantically. Finally, all too quickly, she was there. She pulled aside the curtain and there he was, lounging casually on the other side as if he had just happened by. But she knew better. She opened the door and motioned him in.

"Invite me in, little one. Have you forgotten already?" His tone was mocking, his eyes as well.

"I'm sorry. Please come in," she replied, hoping the formal tone of her voice would save her embarrassment.

He passed casually over the threshold, looking curiously at the knick-knacks and books that adorned her shelves. Her uneasiness was a palpable thing, glistening in the air between them.

"It's time, luv," he told her, wanting to take her away from this place, away from her past. "Are you ready to go?"

She looked at him apprehensively, wishing she could delay this moment for just a little while longer. She wasn't ready to leave yet. Wasn't ready to give up her life. But it was only for a year, she reminded herself. She could survive a year. She grew up on the Hellmouth. If she could live through that, she could live through anything, right?

With a sigh, she grabbed her suitcase and gave one last look at her room. Then she turned and looked at Will, nodded slightly, and followed him out the door and away from her home.

Willow sat in the car, her body ramrod straight and unyielding. She was nervous as hell, but determined not to show any sign of weakness. "Where are we going," she asked quietly.

Will glanced at her quickly and started up the car. "You'll see," was his only reply.

They drove through the night in silence, finally slowing as they passed through a small residential neighborhood on the outskirts of town. The houses were set back from the street, and most had large front yards that boasted various types of oversized shade trees. Will drove along a bit longer before stopping in front of a large, comfortable-looking two-story house. It was hard to tell in the dark, but Willow suspected the house was a dark green with dark gray trim. A front balcony added an old-fashioned look to the house with its wrought-iron railing.

The front yard was huge, but a dozen trees all but blocked the downstairs windows from casual passers-by. And surrounding the house was, of all things, a white picket fence.

Will maneuvered the car into the driveway and turned it off, turning to face Willow. "Do you like it," he asked curiously. "I thought it might be a good idea to have a place of our own. One with no memories attached to it yet."

Surprised by his perceptiveness, Willow looked back at him and nodded. "I like it," she answered quietly. "But don't you need a place for your – you know – minions and stuff?"

"Nah, just you and me now. I cut the others loose. My priorities have changed, at least for now."

Before she could think of anything to say about his rather startling admission, Will had left the car and walked around to open her door for her. Willow climbed out gracefully, taking his proffered hand.

"It's so quiet out here," she remarked in amazement. The nearest busy street was blocks away, and all that could be heard was the quiet symphony of the crickets and frogs that were hidden in the darkness.

Together they walked to the front door and entered the house that was to be their home for the next year.

Willow's eyes flickered over the room in front of her, slightly surprised by its style. Facing her was a huge marble staircase leading up to the second floor. The floor in front of her was checkered black and white, like something out of an elegant mansion in the 1950s. To the left of the staircase was a large living room with dark green carpet and green and burgundy furniture. A large bay window, framed with thick heavy curtains, looked out onto front yard.

"Would you like the tour," he asked shyly.

"Yes. It's…it's amazing. Can I see the rest," she asked eagerly.

He led her to her right, down the long hallway that ended in a large formal dining room. The walls were a deep burgundy with an off-white chair rail, and the dining room table and ornate chairs were oak with off-white upholstery. There was a huge candelabrum on the table filled with tall burgundy tapered candles. The room looked like it could tell tales of formal dinners held here in days gone by.

At the other side of the room was a door to the kitchen, all gleaming white and modern. After a quick look, Willow returned back to the foyer, the elegant stairway again dominating her attention. Will stood there silently, watching her.

"Upstairs is the library. Would you like to see it?"

"Library? Books?" Willow remembered the extensive library William had owned back in London and was curious to see what sort of treasures this library might hold. She eagerly bounded up the stairs, stopping for a moment at the top, trying to decide which way to go.

"It's to your right, luv," he called up to her from downstairs. "The bedroom is to the left."

She hesitated for a moment before walking to her right, opening the door and gasping as the sheer number of books in the huge room overwhelmed her. There were bookshelves on all four walls, floor to ceiling, and they were all packed with books. There were also various couches, chairs, and loveseats upon which to sit and read. Willow turned as Will walked up behind her, glad to see the look of amazement on her face.

"The library was really what sold me on this place. I knew you'd love it."

"It's just too much," she said slowly, shock still clouding her mind. She could not wait to get her hands on some of the books, exotic titles calling to her from the shelves. She picked one at random, leafing through it and then putting it back.

"C'mon, let me show you the rest," he said, gently pulling her by her hand back towards the bedroom.

Bedroom, she thought. The room with the bed. Room where he'd expect her to – her mind shied away from the rest of the sentence. She knew she was in denial, but maybe if she ignored it, it would go away…

The bedroom followed the same decorating scheme as most of the rooms, dark green carpet and thick dark burgundy drapes. A huge four-poster bed with burgundy and silver bedding dominated the room. It was beautiful, looking like something that would be equally at home in a medieval castle.

Looking at the bed, she realized just how tired she was. It had to be well past 3am, and the last several nights her sleep had been fitful at best. Yet at the same time, she didn't want to give in to the inevitable intimacy that was sure to come when they went to bed.

Will noticed her uneasiness as she stared at the bed. He came up behind her, placing his cool hands on her shoulders and bending to nuzzle the skin behind her ear. She started, hands jerking a bit in surprise, but displayed no other reaction. Slowly he turned her to face him, placing his hand under her chin and lifting her face to his. He placed the gentlest of kisses on her soft lips then trailed his lips along the line of her jaw, nipping and teasing the flesh along the way.

Needing to see more of her, he quickly unbuttoned her shirt, letting the sides fall away so that he could feast his eyes on her breasts. The bra was a further hindrance so it was the next to go. He eyed her body appreciatively. Her bulky clothes always hid so much from view. Underneath them she was such a beautiful woman, he thought.

Still she made no movement, no response to his actions or caresses. "What's the matter, little one? Cat got your tongue," he asked teasingly.

She looked him uneasily in the eye and using her calmest voice, she finally spoke to him: "You can do whatever you want to me. I agreed to that and I mean to stick to my promise. But I never said I'd enjoy it. "

"Anything I want, hmmm," he murmured, pushing her unresisting body down onto the bed. "So, if I were to want to kiss you like this, you wouldn't protest?" He bent his head down and kissed her lips softly, nibbling gently on her lower lip. Willow sighed quietly, but other than that, she made no response.

"And if I were to do this," he said, running his tongue down her neck, stopping just short of the space between her breasts, "you wouldn't enjoy that either?"

Again Willow was silent, no motion or expressions giving away her inner turmoil.

"And this, this would be truly unpleasant as well, I take it," he asked with a smile, as he bent his head down and captured one of her breasts with his mouth. Slowly, deliberately, he let his tongue play along the edges of her areole, then pulled his lips ba