Title: The Charms of Dancing
Name: Anastasia
Email: Charlie1@acay.com.au
Rating: R (but will go up to NR-17 - PROMISE!)
Classification: Willow/Spike
Disclaimer: I own none, Joss does. I just borrowed a facsimile of them to play with and for public humiliation!
Distribution: If you want it, take it - but please let me know!
Summary: Spike and Willow talk about dancing and things develop. For good or bad - it is not my position to say!!
FEEDBACK: I need feedback or else the characters and plot will remain in my twisted and sick mind forever - although they are probably better off there anyway!!

Part One

The Bronze was, as usual, crowded. Bodies writhing against each other under the cover of dancing, touching, blood coursing through the young laden with lust and youthful hormones. Amongst this throng of foreplay the most seductive and noticeable couple were the slight blonde girl with her older dark companion, closer and more frantic than those surrounding them. A desperate desire burned through their movements as they danced on oblivious to the fact that what they both so strongly desired, the actual act of love, could never be realized.

From her spot on one of the many couches scattered around the Bronze Willow watched her friends. She watched as Buffy movements set Angel on fire with desire, watched as Angel pulled her impossibly closer to his writhing body and how they locked together in their need, swaying together knowing that they could do no more than this. So engrossed was she that Willow missed the lean body settle next to her on the couch, the feet resting on the low coffee table in front of her and the arm slung casually along the back of the couch nearly touching her shoulders. Effectively Willow was now trapped in the corner of the couch.

"Hello, little girl," the North London accent and smirking attitude of the voice distracted Willow from her preoccupation. Her eyes widened in disbelief as she turned her head to see Spike calmly smirking at her. Anticipating her reaction to jump up and run screaming in horror to the slayer, he placed a light restraining hand on her arm. "Don’t fret pet, I’ve already eaten, just thought I’d pop in for some entertainment."

With that he let her go and began searching through his pockets for his cigarettes. All she could do was stare at him dubiously, mouth agape at his arrogance.

"D..d..don’t you think you could have picked a..a..a better spot?" she stuttered. "I mean Buffy is just over there." She said, indicating Angel and Buffy who were totally oblivious to all that was going on around them.

Spike looked toward the couple and let out a muffled snort as he lit his cigarette. " She’s too wrapped up in that great poof to notice poor little me." He stuck his bottom lip out in a mock pout. "So that just leaves you witch!" He turned to grin wickedly at Willow.

"Me? For what?" she gulped, thinking that was not the question to ask a vampire who was so blasé about the slayer being only a few feet away. She could feel her whole body tense as Spikes blue eye’s pierced her, a burning sensation rushed through her.

"So, where’s Drusilla?" she asked, her forehead wrinkling with worry while her mouth twisted into what she hoped was a ‘I really care’ smile. Again Spike smirked at her, loving the very fear she gave off. It was such a joy.

"She’s out and about, stumbling around the countryside trying to find me." He said with a flick of his wrist toward the door.

"Oh. Here in Sunnydale?" She turned her head back to the dance floor at the still oblivious couple.

"God no," he practically roared with laughter at that. "I left her in Brazil. After a small amount of torture she was quite happy to follow me around – got a bit boring after a while. She wants me now she can come and get me! Last I heard she wasn’t doing to bad – she should be here within the week." He glanced up at the dance floor and shook his head. "Look at that bloody pathetic excuse for dance." He wriggled around on the couch, creeping even closer to Willow.

She turned her head again only nearly to collide her own forehead with Spike’s. He was intently staring at the dance floor and the couples on it. Willow hadn’t realized he was so close. Thankfully he was quite content to carry on the conversation.

"I mean what is the challenge, eh? Lock bodies together and squirm? It’s disgusting." He spat the last word out and looked at Willow. "So how come you’re not out there rubbing against a body?"

"Well, Oz … he’s um, well he’s not, you know, here." She didn’t even try to smile this time, he was too close for comfort.

"Oz?" he questioned not taking his eyes off Willow. Willow broke his gaze and let her eyes wander down to the pale hand that held his cigarette.

"Yeah, you know. Oz … my boyfriend. What is wrong with the dancing? I think it’s, kinda, well, kinda, sexy." Willow could feel Spikes gaze on her still, the comment plus the stare made her skin flush.

"Well, Willow," he let her name rumble in his throat as he spoke softly into her ear. "This is no challenge. It may be ‘sexy’ but it isn’t exactly seduction, is it?" Willow glanced up to his cold blue eye’s for a moment before turning to look at the dance floor. "I mean, bodies pressed tightly to another isn’t seduction – it’s nothing more than a mutual agreement of sexual satisfaction. Give me the tango or good old jive, one person in complete control, the other yielding to your every whim. Chance meeting of flesh, power, control and domination. Building a trust in the other person to let you do what will give immense pleasure to both. Teasing touches of flesh, constant eye contact, bodies telling each other what they want, not this bloody bury your body in mine crap. You only dance with your boyfriend? That’s new!"

"What?" Willow’s head snapped around to stare at Spike. She had been captivated by his voice and the allusion he was creating. Then he said something about her boyfriend?

"Got to go, little girl. The sensual petting zoo is about to come to an end." Before she could even ask what he meant, he was lost in the crowd of the Bronze and the music stopped.

"What?" Willow said, more to herself than anyone else, still contemplating Spike’s comment on her boyfriend.

"What, what?" asked Buffy as she flopped next to Willow, flushed and frustrated. Angel stood, looking equally frustrated – flushed didn’t really work for him.

"Nothing! Thought I heard someone call me. You know, um, Bronze, people call out names all the time – might have meant me, could have, easily, I’m sure." She suddenly realized she was rambling. "So I was just saying what, for the person who called me." She offered, brow wrinkling, knowing she should tell Buffy of the conversation with Spike or at least Spike’s presence. But no, she couldn’t do it. Again the remnant of a reassuring smile came to her lips. "Must have been some other Willow, though. No one answered."

"Lot’s of other Willow’s? Sure. You had more coffee, didn’t you Willow?" Buffy looked at her friend an eyebrow raised in question. Thankfully she turned her attention to the still agitated Angel. "Are you going to stand for the rest of the night, ‘cause if you are I’d rather do it on the dance floor!" She grinned wickedly at him, causing him almost to wince.

"No, I’ve really got to get going." He raised his hands to show surrender.

"Well, I should patrol. I could walk with you if you like?" Buffy suggested, smiling at him seductively.

"What about Willow?" he queried. Willow grinned at him with thanks, knowing Buffy would have left without giving her friend a second thought since lust was the only thing she seemed to have on her mind.

"Hey guys." Dander broke the silence that had been impregnating the little group.

"Xander, I thought you weren’t coming back until Sunday," cried Willow joyful of the distraction he caused.

"Well I knew you guys couldn’t spend a Friday night without me." He joked sitting down in a chair.

"Joyous family occasion was cancelled then?" asked Buffy.

"In a word. Yes. So here I am. What say we party on?" he grinned at the two girls on the couch.

"Well, I was thinking of going home. I have a heap of work to do – you know, Hacker stuff." Shrugged Willow.

"And I was just about to go and patrol." Buffy added.

"Okay, patrolling sounds good. Scary, but better than a lonely Bronze," Xander didn’t even wait for Angel to say anything. "Let’s go Buffy. Hey Dead Boy, you’ll see Willow gets home okay?"

Xander didn’t even wait for an answer before he jumped up and started pulling Buffy towards the door.

"Um, bye guys!" was the last thing they heard from Buffy before she and Xander disappeared into the crowd.

****

Part Two

"Angel?" Willow shot a glance at the vampire by her side. He was in serious brood mode, eyes downcast and hands thrust deeply in the pockets of his jacket.

"Mmm?" He replied.

"Do you like dancing?" she looked forward and into the dimness of the night. She didn’t see his head swing to look at her.

"Well, I suppose so." His brow furrowed as he looked at her, surprised by the question.

"I guess you’ve seen a lot of dancing in your time. Which did you like best?" she kept her eyes forward, eager for the answer.

"Um, I don’t know Willow. They all have their merits. I haven’t really thought about which I prefer. Why the sudden interest?" he turned his attention back to the night.

"Someone made a comment tonight…about today’s style of dance and how it didn’t, well, um, didn’t present much of a, well, a challenge..." Willow could feel herself blushing and just let her stuttering statement hang in the air.

"I’ve never really thought of it…that way." He cleared his throat and glanced at Willow again. . His thoughts were interrupted as he placed a restraining arm across Willows stomach to halt her movements and bought a finger to his lips to indicate his need for silence. Angel turned his head and listened. Nothing, but the unmistakable aroma of vampire drifted through the night air. "Come on, let’s get you home Willow."

"What is it Angel?" she received no answer except a guiding hand on her arm hurrying her along.

The rest of the walk home was in silence. Angel lost his need to brood and Willow favored the need to take it up. Her mind kept wondering back to the conversation with Spike. She hated to admit it but he was right. If you liked a guy and wanted to let him know it was easy to wait for a slow song and then ask him to dance. No challenge. Not that she had actually ever done that, but it was a known trick of the "Do You Like Me" game. Then again there were the comments Spike had made about the other types of dancing. This sent Willow into a kaleidoscope of thoughts concerning the type of dancing she had seen in her life. Xanders dances did nothing for her, apart from amusement. Buffy and Angel, well their style of dance was exactly what Spike thought of as unchallenging. Other occasions when she had seen people, other than her immediate peers, dancing had been affairs where everyone had consumed copious amounts of alcohol and their main objectives had been staying upright and trying, unsuccessfully for the most part, to dance in time to the music.

"Willow…Willow…Willow" it was a case of third time lucky for Angel to break through the barrier of thoughts that had surrounded Willow.

"What?!" she jumped back startled. Looking up her eyes widened with surprise as she realized they were standing at her front door.

"Are you okay Willow. You seem distracted." Fumbling with keys she barely heard Angels question.

"Oh. Oh. I’m fine, just …" she couldn’t think of anything to justify her current frame of mind. She looked up to see Angel studying her intently. "Tired! Really tired. Long day and night. So I’ll go inside now and you can go. Unless you want to come in or not…?"

Willow stepped inside her door and gave him a reassuring smile.

"No, if your tired I’ll let you go." He stood looking at her for a moment, narrowing his eyes as he watched her. "Goodnight Willow."

"Okay. Bye" she said as he turned and walked away. She shut the door checking the bolts and leaned against it for a while. She hadn't lied, she was tired. All right so she hadn’t told the complete truth, but she hadn’t lied! With that thought, she moved up the stairs and drew a deep hot bath with the intention of having a nice long soak.

She walked back to her room and turned on the radio picked up some clothes and went back to the bathroom. Leaving the door open so she could listen to the music, she stripped off and slowly sank into the water. It was the only thing that came to mind as she let the heat of the water work away the aches and stresses of the day. Willow allowed a soft smile to form as she heard Tal Bachman’s "She’s So High" come on the radio. Without realizing it she began to tap her foot in time to the music. The verse came and she couldn’t help but sing at the top of her voice. She giggled as she allowed herself to sink back into the water. All thoughts floated away as she let the warmth of the water engulf her body, leaving it weightless.

Willow’s peace was shattered, some ten minutes later, by the piercing shrill of the ‘phone. She waited, listening for the machine to pick up the call.

"Hi, you’ve reached the Rosenberg residence. Unfortunately we can’t take your call at the moment, but if you leave your name and number we’ll get back to you as soon as possible."

BEEP

"Hey Wills, it’s Buffy. Just ringing to see if your okay, Angel said you seemed a bit wigged. We’re just going out for another patrol. Guess your sleeping. Well, call me tomorrow and we’ll do something. Yeah. Okay. Bye."

"Okay. Bye Buffy!" Willow yelled, and giggled to herself. With that she reach over and pulled the plug and reluctantly got out. She lathered herself with Freemans Raspberry body lotion and pulled on a pair of midnight blue silk shorts and a white tank top and sauntered back to her room.

Willow grabbed her laptop and took it to her bed and started checking her e-mail. Not too much was going on, well wishes from friends, queries from acquaintances and various junk mail. She hated those. A tap at the French doors of her room roused her from her uncharitable thoughts of what she should do to the junkees. She glanced at the clock, barely one in the morning – who could it be?

"Willow, quick! I need you to let me in!" she heard a faint strangled cry come from the doors with another gentle rap. Without hesitating she ran to the doors and flung them open stepping out to help her…friend? She felt cold fingers encircle her wrist and firmly tug her from the room and onto her patio.

"Lord, that was just too easy!" too late she heard Spikes comment and accompanying laughter.

Part 3

Those were the first thoughts that ran through Willows mind when she heard Spikes comment. Suddenly the world spun literally and for the briefest moment the only thing Willow was completely aware of was Spikes cool hard grip on her wrist.

"Well, fancy seeing you here pet." The world stopped spinning to leave Willow standing on the lawn of her backyard with Spike smiling at her.

 Her thoughts began to express her blind panic and would have continued to do so if Spikes voice had not interrupted them.

"You know, love" he gave a small snort of laughter as he moved his body close to hers and looked deep into her eyes. "We are really going to have to stop meeting like this…people will start to talk!" He reached up and gently pushed her hair back from her face, letting his thumb trace her cheekbone.

Snapping out of her panic induced stupor, Willow jerked back from his touch. Stepping away from him, she completely forgot about his hold on her wrist. <Ow, bad ow. > Willow looked up into Spikes face. He was no longer grinning, in fact his face showed no emotion at all as his eyes took on a cold and steely stare. For all purposes he appeared to be studying Willow intently, trying to work out the next move in this little game. Once again Spike stepped in close to her side.

"Why don’t you scream?" he rumbled slowly into her ear. Willow wasn’t sure if it was a suggestion or a question. She darted her eyes up to glance at him, but seeing his face devoid of emotion she returned to looking straight ahead. "Go on – scream!"

Spike accentuated his words with an almost crushing pressure on Willows wrist. The pain from her wrist and the increasing certainty of her impending death enticed an ear splitting, glass shattering scream of desperation to leave Willow. As the scream died on her lips, Willow became aware of Spikes low laughter.

"Slayer," he called out in a singsong voice, while leading Willow deeper into the shadows of her backyard. "I’ve got one of your friends to play with…Oh that’s right, she and the big poof are on the other side of town. Your neighbors don’t seem too concerned, so I guess that leaves you all to me!"

Spike stopped his movements and swung to face Willow, a huge grin breaking through the previous mask of stoicism.

"What do you want?" Willow hesitantly whispered. < He’s going to kill me and I ask what he wants! >

"Mmm. Well," Spike grabbed her free hand and released his grip on her other wrist to slide his hand around to the small of her back. "I want to waltz."

"Waltz?" Willow stared into his piercing blue eyes trying to gain some insight. < Waltz, then death? >

"Waltz." He stated, gaining amusement from the sheer fear he could see in her eyes, feel it causing her body to tremble. Suddenly something else creeped into Willows expression, he could see her brow furrow with anger.

"I’m not going to waltz with you…you’re a blood sucking fiend." Willow tried to step back only to be stopped by the pressure of his hand on her back. < Great, call him names, get him angry! > Spike didn’t look angry, if anything he looked amused.

"’Blood sucking fiend’ what sort of label is that? I prefer…" he seemed lost in thought for a moment, trying to come up with something more appropriate. "Homicidal maniac. Much more manly."

With that Spike grinned down at Willow, stepping back he pulled her forward. The movement caused Willow to almost stumble, putting out her free hand to grasp Spikes shoulder to steady herself.

"And now we have assumed the position." Spike lowered his head and voice slightly. "Shall we waltz?"

"I can’t!" Willow said, as Spike arched an eyebrow in question. "I don’t have shoes on, we have no music and, and, well…I don’t know how to."

The last part of her argument was little more than a whisper.

"You don’t need shoes, I won’t step on you. Music is irrelevant. Follow my lead and you will be waltzing in no time at all…trust me." He snickered the last part again pulling her forward while stepping back.

"Trust you?! You’re a blood suck…er…you’re a self-confessed homicidal maniac. No offence meant, but they are not the most sincerest of …" Willow lost herself for a moment, she was going to say ‘people’ but Spike wasn’t. She searched desperately for a suitable phrase only to be cut off by Spike.

"There you go again sticking labels all over the place. If he’s a homicidal maniac he must be untrustworthy." Again he stepped out, urging Willow to follow his lead. "I mean, just because an individual enjoys a good blood letting now and then doesn’t mean he can’t be trusted…Although, you are right, I can’t be trusted. Just a flaw in my personality I guess. You know it hurts, really it does."

Sarcasm was dripping from his voice as he stuck his bottom lip out in a pout. All the time Willow had been listening to him, she hadn’t even realized that he was manipulating their bodies around her back yard in the perfect waltz. The cool breeze caused by the momentum of the waltz caught her attention and she broke her gaze with Spikes to look down at the ground.

"Oh, oh my!" Willow gasped as she tried to follow him and suddenly stumbled in his arms.

"Close your eyes love and just feel, don’t even think about what you’re doing." Spike murmured as he continued to twirl Willow around.

< Close your eyes. Yeah, sure. Then I won’t be able to see when you go in for the kill! Maybe that isn’t such a bad idea… > Her thoughts were again interrupted by Spike repeating his request. She looked up into his eyes. Frowning, she considered her position, agreeing with her previous thought that she really didn’t want to see him go in for the kill, and with a resigned sigh closed her eyes.

< I’m floating. > It was the only way Willow could describe the sensations she was feeling. Spike, by means of the light pressure on the small of her back and his guiding hand wrapped in hers, was spiraling her into a world of sensational pleasure. She reasoned they must have been moving with some force, her hair was swinging and she could feel the air as they twirled round and round. She could sense the strength Spike possessed in his body as he maneuvered their bodies twisting and twirling about the yard. She could feel the coolness of his skin under her hands, feel his muscles flex as he moved.

Willow sighed. She smiled to herself at this thought, but it slipped from her as soon as it surfaced. < Only I’m not Scarlett and my potential Rhett is going to drain my blood at any moment now… but I still feel like I’m floating. >

Willow felt lost. She was only just aware of the grass beneath her bare feet, the coolness of the night air, the potential danger of her situation. And at this point in time, she didn’t care. Her only concern was the power she felt as she was held in Spikes cool strong arms, as he maneuvered her around the yard. A yard, which in her minds eye, was nothing less than an old-world ballroom somewhere in Vienna. She could almost hear the string quartet playing an accompaniment to their dance. She didn’t want to stop, to stop would be nothing less than death.

Willow felt Spikes cool hand in the small of her back pull her closer to him. She could feel him slow their movements, until they were moving in a gentle rocking motion. Willow was instantly aware that their bodies were touching. Spike was firmly pressed against Willow, his hand urging them even closer, without even opening her eyes she was intensely aware of his head being lowered to her neck. She felt moist cool lips pressed against the base of her neck as their movements came to a complete halt.

***********************************************************************

"You smell like raspberries, love." Spikes voice vibrated through his lips on her neck. Willows knees went weak and she felt herself falling. With a thump she landed on her bum in the middle of the yard, her eyes shot open to carefully scan the surrounding night. There was no sign of Spike, no evidence that he had even been there, and nothing to suggest that he had been waltzing Willow around her backyard.

Willow pushed herself off the ground, brushed down her clothes and, wincing at the pain in her buttocks, turned to go back to her room. Running her fingers along her neck she could feel no bite marks, no leaking blood, nothing. < He didn’t kill me! He waltzed me! Does that make sense? Can a person be waltzed? > She felt confusion and relief sweep though her body which suddenly felt heavy and weary. Craving the sanctuary of her room she made a mad dash, forcing her languid body to respond to her needs. Apprehension surrounded her as she made sure the French windows were firmly locked and sought the soft comfort of her bed. Her mind wandered as she drifted toward an undisturbed sleep.

< The phone is ringing. > The thought ran through Willows sleep fogged mind. < Answer it! I would have to get out of bed. It’s just too hard… Could be important though. > With that final thought she dragged her hand out from under the covers to reach out a grab the phone.

"Hello?" The bedding she was hidden under muffled her voice.

"Wills! You want to go shopping? I really need some new clothes." A distant voice echoed through Willows mind.

"Buffy?" she mumbled in question. What was Buffy doing ringing so early on a Saturday. "Why are you ringing me so early?"

"Early?" Buffy laughed on the other end of the line. "It’s three o’clock in the afternoon Willow! Are you still in bed? You must have been tired!"

"Ha, ha." Willow glanced at the bedside clock, thinking Buffy was just teasing. No, she wasn’t. The clock read 3.03 pm to be exact. "Oh God, it’s three o’clock!"

"Now you’re stating the obvious Will! So do we shop?" Buffy waited for an answer.

"Yes…yes. We shop." Willow couldn’t believe she’d slept so long! "I have to shower and change, though. I shouldn’t be long."

"Okay, well I’ll head on over to your place. Do you think Xander would want to come? He has access to a car – could be handy." Buffy asked.

"Sure, ask him. Who knows." Willow knew if Buffy asked him, he’d be there in a flash. "I’ll see you in a while then."

"Done deed!" Buffy replied and rang off.

< God, it’s three o’clock. > Willow pulled herself up, suddenly hissing as a sharp pain stabbed through her wrist. She bought her wrist up to inspect, and was shocked to see a large bruise encircling it, a thumb and finger marks clearly visible. < Spike! > Willow blushed as the evenings events came back to her. Absently she began to stroke the marks as the memory of his firm cool grasp flooded her mind. Then there was the waltzing. She closed her eyes trying to recapture the feeling she had experienced. Her eyes flew open. < God, I should tell Buffy! > Somehow, that didn’t seem right. < I’ll wait and see what happens. > With that thought she reluctantly pulled herself from the bed and got ready for the onslaught of the great shopping experience.

***

"Will, this would be just perfect for you!" Buffy exclaimed as she held up a pascal pink fluffy jumper. Willow looked at it, cocking her head. She had already bought five items, all after Buffy had picked them and said the same catch cry.

"I think I’ve already spent enough today Buffy. I’ll pass." Willow smiled at her friend. The one item she had picked off the rack to admire and consider for herself, a midnight blue slip dress, was instantly snapped up by Buffy, exclaiming that it simply wasn’t Willow’s style. Willow had reluctantly agreed and watched quietly as Buffy stated that it did, however, suit herself to a tee!

"Well, what do you think about this – for me?" asked Buffy, picking up a lavender top.

"Yeah, it’s real nice Buffy." Willow looked at the top, she refrained from commenting that the color didn’t suit. She glanced down at her watch. It was six o’clock already. "Buffy, weren’t you meant to meet Giles at six?"

"Yep, training. What a way to spend Saturday night!" Buffy rolled her eyes.

"Better than being bag boy." muttered Xander under his breath. Watching Buffy trying on clothes, although in theory sounded good, in practice it meant hours of standing around holding things, fetching things and running for drinks, chocolate and anything else that caught her fancy.

"Well, you are going to be fifteen minutes late." Willow stated.

"What?" Buffy turned around to look at Willow.

"It’s six now."

Buffy’s eyes widened and she grabbed Willows wrist to check the time.

"Come on, guys. I have to go. You know how cranky Giles gets when I’m late!" Buffy hurried the other two out, all thoughts of the top forgotten.

In reality Giles had long ago realized Buffy was always going to be late and had adjusted his thoughts accordingly. He now always told her to meet him half an hour earlier than the intended time. It was saving him gaining an ulcer.

"Giles, I’m so sorry. We were held up at the mall." Buffy gushed as she walked into the library.

"Yes, I’m sure that the entire vampire population of Sunnydale decided that the sales were an opportunity too good to pass up." Giles looked up from the book he was reading. "But you’re here now and we have work to do."

Before Buffy could even open her mouth to suggest a reason why they should just forget formal training and let her do a cardiovascular workout on the dance floor of the Bronze instead, the library doors flew open and Angel walked in.

"We’ve got a problem." Angel said, immediately drawing everyone’s attention. "Spikes back!"

Part 5

< Good, now I don’t have to say anything. > Willow thought studying Angel. He seemed upset. < Or should I say something, really it’s too late now. There will be too many questions. Why didn’t you tell us last night? Why didn’t you say something? Nothing happened that would be of any importance. So basically it’s not necessary for me to say a thing. I’ll remain quiet. Spike’s back, act shocked. >

"Are you sure?" Willow asked, a frown wrinkling her forehead. Angel glanced at her before turning back to Giles and Buffy.

"Damn sure. I interrupted his evening meal. Lets just say he was none to please." Angel grimaced, stroking his jaw where Spike had landed a heavy punch during their little altercation.

"Well, this is something. Why would Spike come back to Sunnydale?" Giles asked.

"Last time he wanted a love spell for Drusilla." Angel paused and looked at Willow. "Could be that his plan didn’t work and he’s returning to the previous idea of a spell."

"Oh, yes. I see." Giles removed his glasses and sucked thoughtfully on the arm. "If that’s the case he might be focusing on Willow…but then again, surely he would have found it easier to go to a more experienced Wicca or source. No offence, Willow. I just mean someone closer to where he was. Less time consuming than coming all the way back here. Makes far more sense if it were a love spell he was after."

< Don’t ask me if I’ve seen him, please! Maybe I should tell. I mean, would it help? > Willow could feel the room start to become tiny, feel the walls collapsing in on her.

"Hey Will, don’t worry we won’t let him get near you." Buffy interpreted her friends’ expression for fear and not a reflection of the inner turmoil that was actually going on.

"Well, we can’t really form any plan of action until we know why he’s here. There’s nothing going on that you know of Angel? No particular vampire activity?" Giles queried.

"Giles, if you haven’t noticed – this is the Hellmouth. You know, freaky vampire episodes – regular occurrence!" Xander stated the obvious, earning a deadly glare from the Watcher.

"I was referring to mass gatherings, perhaps some important event that would require Spikes presence." Continued Giles, not taking his withering scowl from Xander.

"Nothing." Angel replied. "In fact it’s been pretty quiet, relatively speaking."

"There is one way we could find out why he’s here." Buffy announced. Everyone turned to look at her. "Ask him."

"Oh, great idea! I’m sure he would be happy to tell us exactly what big evil thing he has planned!" spat Xander, rolling his eyes and throwing his hands up in the air.

"Yes, well. Xander seems once again seems to have mastered the understatement. I don’t think Spike would be that forthcoming with information." Giles rubbed his temple, trying to put off the inevitable headache he could feel building up.

"I don’t know, a bit of friendly slayer coercion might loosen his tongue." Buffy grinned.

"I think Buffy’s right. But…" Angel cut off Buffy’s I-know-all attitude induced stance and smile. "It would be better if I went."

Giles looked at the people gathered around him. Perhaps Angel would be able to get something out of the blonde vampire using his tact. Giles thought it unlikely that Buffy would have any success in that area, her total distaste for Spike was apparent and it would be of no use to them if she staked him on the spot without getting any information. Whatever Spike’s reason for returning to Sunnydale, Giles wasn’t happy. Spike had a well-earned reputation for being meticulous in his planning and having a devious mind – it had only been fluke chances that he had previously been foiled in his earlier activities.

"I agree Angel. Buffy you can stay with us and help research. We will have to check for any upcoming events, prophecies, see if we can come up with any likely explanation." Giles put his glasses back on and headed off to his faithful books. Willow sighed, moving toward the computer and Xander flopped into a chair at the table.

"But," Buffy began to argue. "What about safety in numbers? What if Spike tries to hurt you? Surely I should go with you!"

Angel just shook his head.

"It’s better you stay here Buffy. I’ll be back soon. I promise." With that he stooped to kiss her and headed out the doors.

"Come along Buffy, these books won’t research themselves." Giles called to her.

***

Angel was getting exasperated. Apart from his initial sighting of Spike, he hadn’t seen or heard anything of him for the last four hours. Not a good sign. He had even tried getting Willie to squeal, but apparently no one, human, vampire or demon, even knew of Spike’s return. Which was most unlike Spike – he enjoyed making his presence felt. This fact alarmed Angel, what could he possibly be planning? He glanced around the park he was walking through.

"Looking for someone special peaches?" Angel heard the familiar voice call. He swung around to face Spike who was casually smoking a cigarette, his free hand deeply buried in the pocket of his leather duster. "You know, I really hated having you interrupt my meal tonight – made me twice as hungry!"

Spike flashed a grin as Angel winced at the thought.

"What are you doing here Spike?" Angel growled.

"Well, I liked the thought of visiting family!" he replied, stepping on his cigarette butt.

"Family? I thought Drusilla was the only ‘family’ you were interested in. Speaking of which, where is our little insane princess?" Angel hit a sore spot and before he could even react Spike had him pinned against a tree, forearm nearly crushing his throat.

"I know exactly where Drusilla is. But what about you, peaches? Do you know where everything that you hold precious is?" Spike practically hissed. As quickly as he had pinned Angel down he let him go. Stepping back and giving a small chortle of laughter.

"Is that meant to be some sort of threat Spike?" Angel glared at Spike through narrowed eyes, trying to find some sort of meaning to Spikes question.

"You know me, peaches. Never a great one for threats, more for action." He began to step back into the darkness of the night. "Better hold on tight, peaches. It’s going to get rough!"

Angel heard Spike give two barks, like that of a dog, and then a loud peal of laughter as he disappeared out of view.

"Shit!" Angel muttered between his clenched teeth and headed back to the library.

Part 6

< Okay, Giles has found a new hiding place for his ‘don’t let Willow see those’ books… Mmmm, Watchers diaries. Not the books I want, but they’ll do for now. > Willow searched through the various volumes Giles had hidden in his office. Oz and the band had returned from their 3-day gig late on Sunday evening and tonight was the first of Oz’s cycle. He was firmly secured in the book cage with Willow keeping watch. Angel and Buffy were out patrolling together. Angel had hardly let Buffy out of his sight since his fruitless encounter with Spike some two nights earlier. Once Buffy had finished patrol and gone home, unbeknown to her, Angel would stay and watch her house until the promise of dawn drew him away. Giles had also gone home, after a myriad of reassurances from Willow that she would be perfectly fine watching Oz by herself. Willow had used the well founded argument that she had done it before, would do it again and there was no point in keeping Giles from getting some much needed rest after pointless hours of research which had ceded no explanation for Spikes presence. Xander was, as usual, happily tucked up in his own bed sound asleep.

So, here was Willow, ten o’clock on a Tuesday night, rifling through Giles office trying to find something of interest to read while she kept an eye on her werewolf boyfriend in a deserted library, in an equally deserted school.

< Oh, boring, boring. That one looks interesting… Oh yuck… that’s disgusting! > Her thoughts on the volumes were interrupted by Oz howling and snarling from the book cage.

"Oz," Willow sung out to the werewolf. She had discovered that little things often set him off and he was soothed when she used a melodic singsong voice. "It’s okay, there’s nothing there."

Willow picked up a volume and began to flip through it as she turned to leave Giles office. A sudden eruption of snarling, growling and the loud crash of Oz throwing his body against the book cage caused Willow to drop the book and dash out toward the main area of the library.

"Oz?" she questioned as the book cage came into view. Standing side on in front of the raging werewolf was Spike, tranquilizer gun in hand. Willow watched in horror as he grinned at her and raised the gun toward Oz. "NO!!"

The cry left her lips as she stepped toward Spike. She heard the shot and Oz yelp in pain as he landed heavily on the floor. Willow tried to grab the gun from Spike, only to have him use it as a leverage to push her back, causing her to fall on the floor.

"Now that isn’t a nice way to treat your guest, pet." Spike swaggered over to her fallen form, gun still in hand, and squatted to look her in the eye. "Play nice and the puppy won’t get hurt. If you don’t play…well let’s see, three darts left – enough to put the wolf down if needed."

Spike let a wicked grin cross his face and wandered back to the cage.

"You could have his pelt as a rug for your bedroom – you’d be able to walk all over him." Spike kicked the cage, looking for any response from the drugged werewolf. Willow remained on the floor looking around for a crucifix, holy water or even a stake, anything that could help protect herself and Oz from Spike. There was nothing, everything was packed neatly away so as not to attract attention – for once in her life Willow wished Giles was a slob. She resigned herself to the fact that if she wanted Oz to live she would have to do whatever Spike wanted. She felt her bottom lip tremble at the thought, tears welled up in her eyes and a lump burned its way into her throat.

"What do you want me to do?" Willow quietly asked, staying as still as possible and taking in every detail of the vampire before her. He turned slowly from the cage, his duster creaking softly at the movement, his face expressionless.

"What makes you think I want anything from you?" Spike growled at her. He could smell waves of fear rolling off her, could hear her heart beat pound faster and the adrenaline scream through her blood.

"Well, you threaten Oz, stated it depended on me and since there is no one else here I assumed…" Willow couldn’t meet the cold glare anymore, she willed herself not to cry. < This is it, he’s going to kill me and then he’ll kill Oz. > The thought that she couldn’t prevent Oz’s death caused a pain to rip through her chest. With that thought Willow pushed herself up off the floor, took two steps towards Spike and looked him directly in the eye, resolve face firmly in place. "I’ll do whatever you want but you can’t kill Oz!"

Spike held her gaze, expecting her to back down at any moment, smirk forming on his face. To his surprise she didn’t break the gaze, even though her bodied betrayed the fear she was feeling.

"Fair enough love. You play nice and I’ll let the dog live…" Spike stepped in close to Willow and growled. "For now."

He slung the gun casually over one shoulder, grabbed Willows’ wrist and walked towards the library’s stereo system. Flipping it on he fiddled until he found a station that was playing music.

"We have the music," Spike said, turning up the volume and then leading Willow back toward the large table. "We have the room and we have two players - both with shoes on – and so we dance!"

He threw the tranquilizer gun onto the table and spun around to face a bewildered Willow.

"You want to dance? With me? Here?" Willow could feel her voice slowly getting higher in pitch with each question. She was also painfully aware that her mouth was hanging open and her brow a mass of worried wrinkles, but all she could do was stare dumbfounded at Spike.

"You know, love, this repeating and rephrasing of everything I say is starting to get boring. And stop bloody frowning, it looks ridiculous!" at his comment Willow snapped her mouth shut. "Good. Now, where shall we begin?" Spike asked. The question was answered when a slow three-beat song started to play. "Perfect, back to basics. A waltz."

Before Willow could even register what Spike had said she felt his hands on her and the sensation that she was floating again. She was aware of Spikes cool fingers grasping her hand and in the small of her back as he stepped out and urged her to follow his lead. < Wow, I’m waltzing. > Willow felt a shiver of pure excitement run through her, a smile forming on her lips and for a moment she forgot who she was with.

"I’m glad to see you remember your lessons, pet." Spike smiled down at her. For the first time since they began dancing Willow looked up into his face. The smile held no comfort and his eyes held nothing of the smile, and yet those eyes and his face was mesmerizing.

"I never forget anything." Willow stated simply, still holding his gaze.

"Nothing, pet? Not even painful memories?" he asked quietly, searching her face.

"No. Everything, no matter how painful or trivial, has some importance and adds to our knowledge of life…" Willow let the sentence pause, she wasn’t sure of it’s relevance to Spike’s question, or if he even cared to listen to it.

"Such wisdom for one so very young," Spike sneered. "And is this wisdom based on experience?"

"Some." Willow answered.

"What experience have you had pet? Really?" Spike asked.

"I…I’ve done lots of things… with Buffy and," she felt flustered, unsure of what Spike meant.

"Yes, the great Buffy. Tell me Willow," he practically purred her name. "Before Buffy came to Sunnydale what were you like?"

Willow searched his face for some meaning, but found none.

"I don’t understand…" Willow felt herself blush, she didn’t know what he was asking her.

"I bet your mother did your shopping. Picked out your clothes, shoes, toys, and books. Decided who you played with, what you did – planned everything for you and you just went along with that plan, never knowing any different but what she told you. Then along comes Buffy, a wonderful new friend. Someone else to pick out your clothes, tell you what to do with your hair, what music to listen to, how to act, where you should go. Have you ever experienced anything for yourself? Done anything you wanted to?" Spike stopped the dance. He let Willow go, walked to the table and sat down.

Willow didn’t move, she couldn’t believe what he had just said. It was like a slap in the face, because for the most part it was true.

"I think we should do some good old rock and roll next. What do you think pet?" Spike acted like he hadn’t made the previous comment. Willow turned to glare at him, the anger and frustration building inside of her looking for a release.

"How dare you!" Willow spat at him. "How can you say such horrible things to me – you don’t even know me! Who are you to sit there and pass judgement on me?!"

"Hit a nerve love?" Spike looked at her with cool disdain as he pulled out a cigarette and lit it. "Look at yourself. You can’t possibly say you enjoy dressing like that, you only do it to please your friends…gain acceptance. Fear, that’s what it comes down to love. You hide yourself beneath all that crap because your scared that if you showed your true colors your friends wouldn’t like you and you’d be alone - again. I know you act like their bloody lap dog, bowing to their every whim - specially that tedious slayer. It’s pathetic. Now, what about the…"

Before Spike could even finish his sentence Willow had stormed over to him and hit his chest as hard as she could. Spike, surprised by her attack, fell back onto the table and let out a deep chuckle. Within a flash he had sat back up and grabbed Willow by the wrist and held the wildly writhing girl.

"Well that’s the girl I’d like to see more of!" Spike laughed out loud at her fight. "Now, why don’t we put some of that fire into a dance?"

Putting out his cigarette Spike stood up and pulled the still squirming Willow towards him. He looked down into her face and saw the raw pain in her eyes. However, any regrets that he had gone too far quickly faded as he felt her foot come down on his and her teeth sink into his confining hand. Instinctively Spike pushed Willow back, making her fall against the low bookcase near the table. Turning Willow started to pull the volumes out and throw them at Spike, in her blind fury she wasn’t even coming close to hitting him. But Spike was finding the whole scene highly amusing.

"Okay, pet. You’re going to end up hurting yourself if you keep going like that." He laughed at her as he ducked to miss being hit by a flying encyclopedia. She was beginning to focus her anger toward him and the volumes were getting closer to their mark, making Spike back away to avoid being hit. Willow saw her chance and lunged for the tranquilizer gun on the table, but was too late as Spike grabbed it and caught Willow by the hair, tilting her face back to look him directly in the eye. "Now don’t tell me I’m going to have to put the dog down?"

"No…no don’t do that, please." Willow suddenly remembered his earlier threat. She could feel tears burning in her eyes. Spike released his hold on her hair and gently pushed it off her pale face.

"Fine. Let’s jive then." He put the gun back down and watched her carefully. She was a bundle of trouble once you stirred her.

"I can’t." Willow said simply, crossing her arms on her chest.

"What do you mean, love?" Willow rolled her eyes at his question and sighed.

"I don’t know how to."

"What do you they teach you in school? Honestly the education system these days!" Spike threw his hands up in a mocking gesture. "Well pet, it looks like it’s going to be a long night!"

Spike took off his long leather duster and put it down on the table, moving back towards Willow he grabbed her and spun her around the room in the same style of the waltz they had previously been doing.

"You know how to waltz, so we will go from there. Just follow me." Spike looked down at Willow holding her gaze as a lazy smile formed on his lips.

For the next five and a half hours Spike coaxed Willow into becoming a very proficient jive dancer, executing spins and turns, manipulating their bodies to move together. After the first half hour Willow had actually begun to relax and enjoy herself. No matter what music was playing on the radio Spike managed to modify their movements, whether it be in the speed or intensity of the dance, to suit. Willow had never felt so exhilarated in her life, her body felt so light and it seemed to tingle all over. She had even laughed when Spike had told her she was glowing.

< How can something that is so wrong make me feel so good? I shouldn’t be enjoying this! I sould be cowering away, cringing at the thought of Spike touching me and yet it feels so wonderful. > Willow was reflecting on her new found conflict when Spike suddenly stopped.

"Well, pet, do you think you’ve had enough?" he arched an eyebrow in question. Letting her go he walked back to the table and put the duster back on, found his cigarettes and lit one. Before Willow had a chance to answer a long painful howl came from the inert form of Oz. Turning her back on Spike she walked over to the cage crouching down to look at the werewolf.

"The tranquilizer must be wearing off." Willow spoke quietly, she knew from experience that until the drugs wore off completely Oz would continue his howling spasmodically. It would probably infuriate Spike to no end. Willow hesitated for a moment, deciding she had better tell Spike of Oz’s penchant for howling for the next few hours and she turned around. Spike was nowhere to be seen. The table was empty, except for the discarded gun, there was no sign of him – not even a cigarette butt!! "Spike?"

It was barely a whisper. Willow decided it would be safe to presume that he had left, glancing down at her watch she was horrified to see that the sun would be up within the hour. She glanced around the library once more and decided that she had better tidy up before Giles came in. < I’d better put his Watchers diaries away first. > She thought and headed toward his office, pausing to switch off the stereo. Putting the diaries away, she grabbed a crucifix and small vile of holy water from Giles desk drawer. < Okay, just in case. Now, all I have to do is put those stupid encyclopedias back and I’ll be fine! >

As Willow walked back out she glanced up at the windows, noting that the sky was slowly getting lighter. She sat down at the table, looking at the collection of scattered encyclopedias, her body betrayed her and began to tremble in rebellion against the long hours of dancing. With that thought Willow let her head fall forward onto her arms and slept.

***

Part 7

The first thing Giles saw as he walked through the library doors was Willow slumped on the table.

"Dear Lord, Willow!" he dashed over touching her shoulder. Later Giles reflected this was his undoing.

"AAAAAHHHHH!!!!" the scream ripped from Willows lips as she jumped up, sending her chair flying, and swinging both fists at her would be attacker. The crucifix, still tightly clutched in her hand, caught Giles on the cheek with enough force to send him sprawling to the ground. The commotion woke a still naked Oz from his slumber and caused him to start yelling for Willow.

Willow screamed again, crucifix still outstretched in a trembling grasp. Giles, caught off guard by both Willow and Oz shrieking, screamed back. Oz looked down at his own nakedness, turned bright red, uttered "clothes" and proceeded to get dressed.

"Will you stop screaming?" said Giles dubiously feeling his cheekbone and raising himself off the floor.

"Only when you do." Snapped Willow, looking around the library.

"I have." Snipped Giles, thinking he would need ice for his cheek.

"Well…okay then." Willow put down the cross and calmly walked to the book cage and let Oz out.

Giles took in the scene of the library, the mass of fallen encyclopedias, and the dented panel of the book cage. Quietly picking up the tranquilizer gun Giles checked the barrel. He turned around to look at Willow, tired but happily hugging Oz.

"Willow, what happened here last night?" Giles asked.

< Tell the truth. You have to tell Giles that Spike was here last night, threatened you and Oz and then forced you to spend the night… dancing. That sounds…weird > Willow couldn’t think of any other way to describe the situation she was in. It was weird! < He’s waiting, tell him. >

"Frogs…" said Willow, she could feel a headache beginning to throb behind her eyes.

"What?" both Giles and Oz asked her at once.

"Well…I saw a…frog." She could see Giles give her one of his patented ‘go on’ looks, and felt Oz squeeze her hand in comfort. "or rather, thought I did. Nighttime, dark and all, hard to tell. Yes, well. It attacked me! Came right at me the slimy little sucker. So I had no choice but to defend myself."

"Defend yourself?" queried Giles. Willow had been looking at Oz, not quite sure she could lie directly to Giles face. She glanced at Giles and motioned toward the encyclopedias wildly with her free hand.

"They were the first things that I could lay my hands on! So I threw them…at the frog…which may, or may not have been there…but which definitely attacked me!" Willow was nodding her head at Giles in affirmation of her ramblings. Giles still watched her.

"So under those books we will find a dead frog?" Giles sighed at her

"Well, I guess – if I got it, that is…" Willow looked at the pile of books. < He bought it. Why wouldn’t he, it’s not that far fetched. > She hadn’t noticed Giles pick up the tranquilizer gun.

"And you then shot this attacking amphibian with a tranquilizer?" Giles looked from the gun to Willow, and waited.

"No, of course not." She laughed lightly at Giles, then she realized he was waiting for an explanation. < Tell him the truth now. > "When the frog attacked me…Oz got upset…and…and, well I thought he was going to get out so…I…shot him."

The last part was barely a whisper and Willow was grateful that Oz chose that moment to give her a cuddle and whisper words of endearment.

"So, briefly, in summary," Giles took off his glasses and started to clean them. "You were defending yourself against a frog, which may or may not have been real, with encyclopedias, Oz became upset and you were forced to tranquilize him?"

Giles put his glasses back on and looked at Willow.

"Yes." Willow mumbled her response from the comfort of Oz’s shoulder.

"Well," Giles glanced around the library, everything else seemed to be in order. "Stranger things have happened. This is the Hellmouth after all. You two had better go home and get ready for your classes."

With that Giles walked into his office, and Oz urged Willow to head out.

***

"Wow, attack of the killer frog – that would make an interesting movie title," Buffy had listened to the ‘accepted’ story of the nights events as she walked to the library with Willow, Oz and Xander after school.

Willow didn’t even bother to listen to the incoherent babblings of her friends. All day she had been fighting fatigue, a throbbing headache and an alarming notion that Spikes speculation about her life was true. < But, > she reasoned to herself. < I’m an integral part of the group. I’m the hacker and they need me. Alright, so I don’t get to make important decisions, or go out and save the world from descending into hell. But I’m there and I help! > Pleased with this affirmation of her life, she turned to reflect on her relationships with her friends.

Oz, the love of her life, although not the most communicative of people lately. With the growing success of his band he seemed to spend more time out on the road, playing gigs. Generally Willow was unaware that the band was playing out of town until Oz came back, always with the reassurance of "I’m sorry babe. I thought I’d told you." Since the consummation of their relationship some weeks previously, Oz had been very attentive physically, however of the time they were together, very little was spent talking.

Xander, since the previous time Spike was in Sunnydale and they were caught in a compromising position in the warehouse together, and she through necessity had grown apart. He was happy to focus his interest elsewhere. Although still close friends they weren’t as intimate as they had been. Xander would spend hours talking to Willow about his life, his dreams and his problems, but Willow could not recall the last time she had actually spoken to him about herself. She hadn’t even told him that she’d slept with Oz.

Then there was Buffy. Most of her time was spent slaying, despairing that she would have no life apart from slaying, lamenting the fact she was behind in her studies and mooning over her relationship with Angel. Willow reasoned that with all of her responsibilities, Buffy was just in her need to vent. However when it came to reciprocating those hours she spent listening to Buffy vent, she came up empty handed.

Spike was right, she had allowed herself to become the doormat for her friends, listening to their problems, helping them when needed and doing everything they wanted. Never what she wanted to do. Sighing Willow sat down on a chair at the library table and rubbed at her temples.

"Willow?" she heard Giles ask through the fog of her headache.

"What?" for the first time she looked up at him, concern was evident on his face.

"I said do you want me to stay with you and Oz tonight?"

"No, no we’ll be fine." All she wanted to do was scream for everyone to go away so she could work through her thoughts. Oz leant down and kissed her softly on the forehead.

"I’ll see you in the morning babe." With that he headed off into the cage.

"Well, I have some research to do so I’ll be here for a little while anyway," Giles turned to glance at Buffy. "Where are you planning to patrol tonight?"

"Oh, Angel and I thought we’d just do a tour of the cemeteries…nothing special and get an early night." Buffy shrugged. "Angel said he’d meet me here then go out."

"Good, you can help Willow and I with this research." Giles turned to the table only to see Willow in the same position he had found her in that morning. "Oh dear, looks like it will just be you and I Buffy."

Carefully Giles picked up the sleeping girl and carried her to the couch in his office, covering her with a light blanket.

***

"Willow," she was vaguely aware of feeling warm, hearing her name and something cool brushing against her cheek. "Willow…Willow…"

Cool fingers brushed against her sleep warmed cheek and ran through her hair. < Mmm, that is so nice. So cool… cool fingers. Oz’s are warm. Those aren’t Oz’s fingers. > Willow forced her eyes open to see Angel sitting on the couch next to her. He pulled his hand away from her face and got up.

"Angel?" Willow asked, still disorientated from her sleep. She sat up taking in her surroundings and realizing that she was in Giles office. "Oh God I fell asleep! What time is it? Is Oz okay? What are you doing here?"

Pushing the blanket off her legs she stood up, ran her fingers through her hair and straightened her clothes.

"Sorry to wake you, but Buffy wants to head off…I just wanted to know if you’d be okay until I come back after patrol." Angel watched her self-conscious movements. Giles, before leaving had suggested that either Angel or Buffy stay with Willow, after the frog incident of the previous night. Angel had agreed and said that after he saw Buffy home he would return to the Library. Buffy herself was tired and saw no reason to argue.

"Oh, Angel. That’s really nice of you to offer, but you know I’ll be fine. Honestly." Willow glanced at her watch seeing it was nearly midnight. The logical part of Willow’s mind began to kick in screaming for her accept Angel’s offer. However in the dark recesses of her mind she honestly thought that Spike coming to her last night had been a freak incident, which she put down to vampire boredom being relieved by terrifying her, and that he wouldn’t be bothering her again. < In fact that was probably his plan, get me scared so Angle would stay with me tonight and leave Buffy defenseless. Alright so Buffy wouldn’t ever be defenseless but Angel is extra protection! > With that thought Willow was determined that she was perfectly safe from the blonde Brit.

"I don’t know Willow. I kind of promised Giles." Angel followed her out of the office.

"Angel, it’s okay. I’ll be fine. As for Giles, don’t worry." Willow was interrupted by Buffy coming back from the bathroom.

"Why would Angel be worried about Giles?" she asked.

"Angel wants to come back here after patrol – but I don’t need him too." Willow explained to Buffy and turned back to Angel. "In fact, it seems to upset Oz more when there are others here apart from me, so really it would just make things difficult. Angel…you know what I mean, don’t you?"

Angel looked down at Willow. What she said was true, Oz had been pretty riotous all night and Willow did seem to have the most calming affect on him. Perhaps it would just be adding to both Willow and Oz’s stress if Angel stayed, also it would mean leaving Buffy unguarded against Spike for the night. But still, he had promised Giles. Before he could say anything to Willow Buffy grabbed his arm.

"You know, she is right. Oz does get kinda wigged out when he’s in wolf mode. Maybe it would be best if they were left alone. I only think Giles asked ‘cause he got freaked out this morning." Buffy swung his arm lightly, smiling sweetly up at him. Angel looked from girl to girl, both faces plastered with ‘it’ll be okay’ smiles. Angel let out an unnecessary sigh and rolled his eyes.

"I guess there is no point in arguing against the two of you. Willow, are you sure you’ll be okay?" he asked, reluctantly knowing he was going to leave her alone.

"Yes, fine. Now go!" she pointed towards the doors with an outstretched arm.

"See ya tomorrow Will." Buffy said before dragging a reluctant Angel from the library.

Willow listened to their fading footsteps and Angels protests of "But I promised Giles". She walked over to the cage to gaze at Oz. It always amazed her how different he was in wolf mode, as Buffy called it. So different and yet eerily similar to what he was. The eyes were the most terrifying of all, so animalistic, so wild, nothing of the calm and reflective eyes she was use to. Willow had been studying him for five minutes as he crouched quietly on the floor when without warning he rolled his lips back, snarling at her through a farcical grin, and launched himself at the door of the restraining cage. The action so shocked Willow she stumbled back - straight into a cool, hard body.

"Hello pet." Spike whispered into her ear She felt his growl, rather than heard it, as it made it’s way up his chest. The sound of the growl caused Oz to become even more frantic in his fight.

"Stop it!" Willow turned to face Spike. "You’re upsetting him!"

"Oh, I’ll upset him pet." Spike moved toward the cage, roughly kicking the door causing the hysterical werewolf to throw himself harder against it. Spike swung around to face Willow. "You know if he keeps doing that he could get out – we wouldn’t want that now."

He smirked at Willow and gave the cage another forceful kick. Casually he walked over to the tranquilizer gun, raised it and fired. For the second night, Oz’s inert form fell to the floor of the cage.

< Oh no, not again. > Willow bought her hands up to cover her face. She felt Spike’s cool fingers run up the length of her forearms and his fingers entwine with hers as he gently pried them away from her face. Lifting her head she saw him looking at her, a bemused expression on his face, one side of his mouth twisted into half a smirk.

"Come on, pet? No fight tonight? Well, maybe that’s just as well, I’m not in the mood for ducking bloody books." He led her on the same route as the previous night, to the stereo and then back to the floor in front of the cage. "Now, lets see how well you remember your lessons pet."

Dancing. It seemed so different tonight. Familiar. Maybe that was it. Willow was profoundly aware of the feel of Spikes fingers. Slowly caressing the lengths of her arms as he passed her out to spin, the feel of his index finger running down her backbone as he pulled her back into his embrace. The palm of his hand cupping the small of her back, the soft cool pressure as he guided her in the dance. She could feel the light pressure of his fingers tracing her waist as he spun her, his other fingers firmly grasping her hand never breaking the hold. She was aware of his legs brushing against hers as they moved around the floor together. A denim clad thigh occasionally brushing between hers as they danced. Her hands were tingling and felt like they were burning against his cool touch. She could feel her body betraying her and leaning into his hands, actively seeking out contact with him, screaming out for more, demanding more. It felt too familiar, too sensual and just too right.

< Bad thoughts. Oh, very bad thoughts. > Willow stumbled as she realized what she had been thinking and felt the blood rush making her face flame.

"Pet?" Spike stopped their movements and raised an eyebrow.

"What?" Willow frowned, not looking at him and trying to drag her hands from his grasp. She glanced up at him, seeing nothing in his eyes. "Can you let me go please?"

Spike grinned down at her and pulled her body flush up against his. He lowered his head, his lips barely millimeters from hers.

"If you really want me to, pet." With that he laughed, pushed her away and swaggered toward the table. "I think you’re ready for the Tango next."

"Tango?" whispered Willow, watching as he sat on the table edge and lit a cigarette. "Why are you doing this? I mean, what’s the point?"

"What’s the point? You see no reason to this – do you?" Spike questioned her. Willow shook her head. "That’s because to you there is no reason. Call it a distraction."

"Is there a reason for you?" Willow narrowed her eyes, he was twisting words, being illusive in his answers.

Spike watched her. She was a clever little witch. He’d have to be careful.

"There are always reasons, pet. As I said, it’s a distraction." He put out his cigarette and sauntered back to her. "Now, Tango"

Spike grabbed her hands and pulled her into the tango stance, explaining as he did the difference in the position. Slowly he began to teach her the steps, pulling her forward in the basic movement of the tango. It seemed too easy to Willow, step, step and tango. That was it. Where was the thrill? That was until Spike started to spin her out, his hands tracing the length of her arm and then pulling her back flush against his body. Just as quickly he would step back and they would again do the basic steps. Willow began to dread those spins and she would fight against him. Pulling back as far as she could, the momentum of her fight would generally throw her off balance as she spun back in, causing her to end up entangled in Spikes arms and often knocked hard into his chest. It was after the third time she head-butted him that Spike stopped the dance.

"Pet, if you keep doing that you’ll break." He growled at her.

"Well, you’re the one that keeps spinning me too hard. I don’t understand what you want me to do!" Willows tone was frustrated. Spike looked around the library and dragged her toward the table.

"Come on, pet." He pulled her up onto the tabletop. "Now, you can’t go any further than the edge – otherwise you’ll break your bloody neck."

Willow looked up at him in horror as she realized he was right. Taking up the stance again Spike smiled down at her. Santana’s Smooth began to play on the radio, causing Spike to laugh.

"This is just too perfect." He stepped out, urging Willow to follow.

< Oh God, I’m going to fall off! > Willow closed her eyes against the thought and listened to the music, blindly following Spikes lead. He kept it basic at first, allowing himself to get use to the size of the table. He smiled to himself as he spun Willow out. This time there was no fight, no resistance, her fingers entwining tightly with his as she held on. She was no where near the edge, but her fear that she could be was doing exactly what he wanted - forcing her to submit to him. Spike laughed out loud in his sheer delight. It was so very intoxicating. He spun her back into him, running his hand down the full length of her back, he could feel her body tremble. Fear and excitement – it was delicious.

"Open your eye’s, pet." Willow did as he said, holding onto his gaze.

Spike kept them dancing. The spins and turns becoming bolder as Willow complied with his every whim. The song was coming to a close. Spike spun her back in. Allowing his hand to travel down her back, bottom and thigh Spike grabbed the arch of her knee, pulling her leg up to his waist. His whole body pressed into hers, forcing her to lean back. Releasing his hold on her leg he pulled her hips flush against his. One of his hands found the small of her back, while the other hand slid up along her stomach, snaking between her breasts and the fingers encircled her neck with a biting pressure forcing her to dip backwards. She felt his body bent over hers, his lips pressing between her breast, his fingers still firmly pressed to her neck.

"Submit to me Willow," Spike purred. He held her there for the briefest of moments before pulling her back up and again moving out in the basic tango steps. Suddenly he stopped and swung his head toward the doors.

"Well, pet. As much of a distraction this is, I really have to go." Spike grabbed her hair and bent her head back, exposing her neck to lightly kiss it. By the time she had registered what Spike had said and done Willow found herself standing alone on the library table.

Willow felt her whole body tremble. She wasn’t sure what it was from fear, loathing…excitement? < Calm down, breath. > She forced herself to take a deep breath and was about to let it out when the library doors opened and Angel walked in.

***

Part 8

Willow looked down at her feet, her eyes watching the movements whilst she concentrated on the soft sound. It was Friday afternoon, about an hour until the sun would set, and Willow was making her way home through one of the many shadowed streets of suburbia. She was lost in a maze of thoughts. Bronzing, that was the plan for tonight – according to Buffy and Xander. Oz had no say, he hadn’t been in school or at home all day, apparently taking off early for a gig in some other town. Willow had shrugged off the suggestion feigning a headache, although she knew that in all probability she would end up going. Willow chastised herself for her contemptuous thoughts. < Angel. > Willow giggled at the memory of Wednesday night when he found her standing on the library table. Of course he had demanded an explanation. Frogs, that had explained her position, it also gave a valid reason for Oz once again being sedated – the evidence of his hysteria had been supplied by the additional dents in the book cage. And the music? Willow claimed that she had tried to soothe Oz by playing the music and had just let it play on. Angel stayed with her for the rest of that night and returned the next evening just as Giles was leaving. Soon after Angels arrival on the Thursday night, Oz had become hysterical and for the third evening was tranquilized. At the time Willow had wondered if it was the smell of vampires in general or whether Spike was somewhere close. The rest of the evening was spent with general discussion between Angel and Willow, ranging from Oz’s behavior as a werewolf, Buffy and school. Angel had later turned the discussion to Willow, with her side stepping as many questions as possible. Something that didn’t go unnoticed by Angel. < If I go to the Bronze he might want to talk again… > Willows thoughts were broken by the low hum of a powerful car engine. She looked back over her shoulder a strangely familiar black car was at the bottom of the street. < Great. Hoons from school. Just what I need… drive by abuse. > Willow rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to her feet and waited. She could see it in her minds eye, the car would slowly pass her, abuse would be yelled and the car would speed off amongst the sounds of laughter and the squeal of tyres. It didn’t happen like that.

The car did slowly approach her but instead of hearing abuse yelled she heard a soft click, saw a door swing open in front of her and a cool arm envelop her waist. With a quick tug she found herself sitting on Spikes lap behind the wheel as he slammed the door shut and slammed the excelerator down to the floor.

"You know, pet, you can stay there if you want." He laughed as he pushed her off his lap and onto the passengers’ seat. Willow pushed herself up against the door, her hand blindly searching for the handle. "Pet, you really don’t want to do that."

"Oh, why? I should just sit calmly in the car while you drive us to…" Willow suddenly realized she didn’t have the faintest idea where they were going.

"LA, pet. We’re going dancing." Spike lit up a cigarette. "You won’t get anywhere doing that. It doesn’t open from the inside."

***

The relatively short trip, thanks to Spikes manic driving ability and total disregard for the speed limit, was spent with Willow presenting various arguments that Spike laughed off. He had assured her that she wouldn’t be missed – until it was too late – and that there was nothing for her to do but sit back and enjoy the ride. Once in the city and free of the confines of the car Willow had decided her best option was to make a run for it. Not according to Spike who caught her fleeing arm, causing her to crash into his chest.

"Now, now, pet. You don’t want to upset me. I could just leave you here at the mercy of the city, no money, no ID, no protection…how long do you think you’d last?" he sneered down at her, fingers gripping her upper arm. He threw his head back and let out a laugh. "I doubt you’d even make it to a pay phone to call home. First stop…" he smirked at her. "Clothes."

Willow found herself being dragged through the double doors of a very nondescript building and into an expensive looking store. It was deceptive. From the outside it had looked like nothing, but once through those doors a whole new reality was presented. A perfect plastic girl greeted them and in a bubbly voice loudly announced her name and asked how she could be of service tonight.

"I’d like to speak to Andrew." Spike looked at the shop assistant.

"May I ask who’s calling?" she said in a sugary sweet voice.

"Tell him it’s Spike and a little bundle of joy that needs wrapping." Spike released his hold on Willow and buried his hands in the pockets of his duster.

The girl disappeared into her surrounds and soon a well-dressed man was striding towards them. Spike reached out and grabbed his hand in greeting and casually throwing an arm across his shoulder turned him to face Willow.

"Andrew, this is my little bundle. As you can see, she isn’t exactly dressed for any occasion and I need you to fix that for me." Spike cocked his head, seeing for the first time exactly what Willow was wearing.

"And what occasion does she need to be dressed for?" asked Andrew also looking at her current outfit of baggy overalls and fluffy jumper. He almost grimaced at her.

"Dancing mate." Spike turned away from Willow, glancing around the shop. "However, I want her to make the choice you are only to give her…options."

Willow wanted the floor to swallow her. She folded her arms across her chest and turned to look at the room they were in. It appeared to be a large entrance area, various arches led off to different rooms that were filled with a variety of clothes and other goods. Anything you wanted seemed to be here. And Spike was quite well known to the staff. That was a scary thought since he really only seemed to wear the one outfit.

"…then take what she is currently wearing and burn the bloody stuff." It was the tail end of the conversation and Willow had no idea as to what Spike was talking about. "So, how long do you reckon this will take?"

"How long have you got?" Andrew looked from Willow to Spike.

"I’ll be back in an hour." He turned to Willow. "Pick whatever you want, pet. I’ll be back soon."

With that he turned on his heel and walked out the doors, leaving Willow to wonder what exactly she was in for.

"I don’t know, what do you think I should get. I mean, I don’t even know where we’re going. I don’t even know…" Willow glanced up to see Andrew rubbing his temple. Willow had been looking at and trying on clothes for the last forty-five minutes, she still hadn’t managed to decide on what she wanted.

"It is entirely up to you. Whatever you want you can have. It’s simple – take what you want – whatever you want!" exasperation was clearly evident in his voice.

"Don’t tell me the little witch can’t make up her own mind." Willow spun around at the sound of Spike’s voice. He was leaning against the archway watching her. "Come on pet. It isn’t that hard – know what you want and take it. You do know what you like, don’t you?"

Willow knew that last part was a challenge. She straightened her shoulders and tucked her hair off her face to look directly at Spike.

"Of course I know what I like." She almost spat at him. He laughed at her, pushed himself away from the archway and over to a couch to sit down.

"Well then, pet. Show me what you like so far…" he fumbled around to grab a cigarette.

"Well, there are a couple of things I like…that dress there and," she was cut off by Spike.

"Don’t tell me. Show me." There was no mistaking what he wanted her to do. Show the clothes to him while she was wearing them. She picked up an outfit and went into the change room.

When she came out Spike and Andrew were fervently discussing something. Willow had to cough to get their attention.

"Bloody hell, pet. I said something you liked not what that prat of a slayer would have you wear." Spike growled. Before Willow could even say anything Spike jumped up from the couch and grabbed her by the back of the neck dragging her to a mirror, holding her, forcing her to look at her own reflection. "Look at yourself, pet. Do you really like that? Shapeless, fluffy and angelic? Is that you? Is that what you are?"

The force of the act had scared Willow. It left no space for her to wonder what Spike was, just reinforced the idea that he was a demon. His fingers were biting into her neck, forcing her to do what he wanted and he wanted an answer. For the first time Willow looked at herself. She had chosen an outfit that represented what her friends expected her to be, fluffy, sweet and innocent.

"Well, pet. I’m waiting for an answer." Spike growled into her ear.

"No." it was barely a whisper. Spike let her go and started to walk back to the couch.

"Pick something you like. There is no one here who knows you. No one to judge. You have a clean slate to reinvent yourself."

Willow was still staring at her reflection. She was unsure what she wanted, she had only vaguely heard what Spike had said. What did she want? She glanced over her shoulder to where Spike and Andrew were sitting on the couch deep in conversation, ignoring her. She looked around the room at the scattered outfits and her eyes fell on a dress – her first choice of the evening. After trying it on she had decided was too daring and would earn Buffy’s "Oh that is so not you" comment. She walked over and picked it up with a few other outfits that would also fall under the same category and went back to the change room.

It was a simple dress, basic black, form fitting, the skirt falling a few inches above the knee with a split on the front right thigh. It was also sleeveless and the front, while not overly low cut, was pleasantly tantalizing. Perhaps the most appealing thing about the dress was that it’s simplicity intensified Willows natural beauty, her pale skin, green eyes and fiery red hair.

Willow walked out and found the couch empty. Moving over to the full-length mirror this time she liked what she saw.

"Much better, pet. Elegant and sexy. Unequivocally Willow." Spike murmured into her ear. Willow hadn’t even realized he was near her. "Go try on some others."

"I’ll only need the one." Willow bit her lip. This dress was comfortable, made her feel comfortable.

"Amuse me, pet." Spike let his fingers run down her arm before breaking contact. "Andrew has gone to get you some…essentials."

Willow had no idea what he meant but headed back into the change room. The next outfit she chose was a black leather skirt with a split either side teemed with a tight long sleeve, forest green, v-neck top. She had no idea why she had picked that outfit – it had simply appealed to her and that was what Spike was urging her to do.

"Oh, pet. The skirt is just to die for." He almost purred at her. "And the top, well it certainly draws attention to your…eyes."

Willow looked over to where Spike was sprawled on the couch and rolled her eyes, a smile playing across her lips. She headed back into the change room to put on the final outfit. It was definitely not what she would generally wear. It consisted of a bright cherry red mini skirt, matching slip top and a fitting filmy long sleeve top. Walking out of the room she was immediately arrested by Spikes comment.

"And here she is – the siren that called all men to their deaths through her song of beauty and promises." Spike grabbed her hand and urged her back to the mirror. "There, pet. Can you see everything you promise to be?"

Willow looked at her reflection closely. The red caused her skin to glow, she looked almost ethereal. But there was something wrong, something was missing.

"I don’t have any shoes." Willow barely whispered, looking at Spike. Spike threw back his head and roared.

"Shoes! Andrew the bundle needs shoes. What sort of shoes do you want pet?" Spike turned her around and pushed her back into the change room that Andrew had just walked out of, holding something behind his back. "Go get changed into whatever you want to wear for tonight – Andrew has left some things in there for you – and then we’ll get you some bloody shoes!"

The "things" were underwear. Seven pairs to be exact. All a mixture of lace and silk delicately created with a mixture of colors from basic black and white through to two sets of rich burgundy.

She had never actually owned underwear like that and it seemed to be something of a deviant act to even imagine what they would be like and now – well now she would actually wear some! She chose a black set of underwear and the little black dress. She glanced at her reflection one more time, giving a small smile of satisfaction, and walked back out to where Andrew and Spike were waiting.

"Nice choice, pet. Now shoes." Andrew led the way through the various archways until Willow was surrounded by a selection of shoes that would have had Cordelia fainting in ecstasy. Again Spike insisted that she pick for herself and she decided on three items, a pair of low strappy black dress shoes, knee high black boots that Buffy would seriously say "Oh so not you!" and another pair of strappy dress shoes in red. Spike wasn't there to see the final choice, he’d left saying he’d be back in half an hour and that Willow was to pick enough shoes to go with the outfits. The shoes were less time consuming than the clothes and Willow found herself wandering through the store with Andrew as a companion, waiting for Spike.

"Wow, you guys have everything here!" Willow looked into an area that was done up in an "American West" theme. The sight of a signed "Young Guns" poster mounted over a holster and pearl handled guns arrested her eyes. "Those aren’t Billy the Kid’s guns – are they?"

Willow found herself closely scrutinizing the guns in their glass case. This was one of her dark and dirty secrets – the idea of Billy the Kid (especially the one portrayed by Emilio Estevez) appealed to her. If Xander or Buffy ever found out she felt she would never be able to live it down. Andrew laughing distracted her.

"No, they’re replicas." He had laughed because for the first time that night she had shown a genuine interest – and in something he would never have guessed. "So you like Billy the Kid?"

"Uh ha. I mean Emilio Estevez – wicked. And he just looked so cute in that outfit!" she smiled up Andrew.

"Well, we can put you in that outfit – see how cute you’d look." He turned from Willow and started to say something to one of the assistants who scurried off.

"Oh, no, I didn’t mean that. Well I couldn’t, I mean I’m a girl and it just wouldn’t be right…" she paused looking at Andrew and giggled. "Oh why not?"

Within five minutes she was dressed in a similar outfit, well fitting brown suede pants with a white grandpa shirt. Andrew was fixing on some old fashioned braces and the assistant was holding the replicas of the guns and holster as well as a hat.

"This is so silly." Giggled Willow, in fact she loved it. She flicked out the braces, wincing as they snapped back against her. Andrew was tying her hair back and putting on the hat. The only thing left was the guns. "If only they could see me now!"

Andrew nimbly fixed the holster around her hips, letting it hang low, tying the fixtures onto her thighs, and slipped the guns into place. Turning Andrew said something to the assistant who was sent scurrying away again. Soon the music from the second movie could be heard playing, causing Willow to giggle wildly as Andrew led her to a full-length mirror.

"Wow!" it was all she could manage. She looked wicked. At Andrew’s urging she picked up the guns and tried twirling them around, almost dropping them several times before she got the hang of it. She pulled the gun on her own reflection and said those infamous words in a lilting voice. "You hoo, I can make you famous!"

"I bet you could, pet."

"Spike!" Willow caught her breath for a moment, wondering the implications of this scene. He merely stood there looking at her from top to toe and grinned.

"Go get changed – we’re going dancing." He turned from her to once again engage Andrew in conversation. Willow hurried away to change back into her black dress. Once she came back out Andrew was no where to be seen but Spike was standing there with a black jewelry box in his hand.

"Here you are, pet." He held out the box to her and Willow glanced inside. There was a black choker with an elaborate design of various black gems.

"Oh Spike, it’s beautiful but I…" she was cut off by Spike picking up the necklace and clasping it to her neck.

"Protection, pet. Have to let people at the club know your not dinner." Spike purred to her.

"Club? You mean we are going to a club with other vampires?" this was not good. One vampire she could handle but a whole brood? Spike could feel her tremble, even though he stood some distance from her, he’d have to do something about that otherwise she would be dead by the time she walked through the doors.

"Come on, pet. Can’t keep everyone waiting." Spike grabbed her hand and led her toward the doors.

***

The Club was like the store. On the outside there was nothing of any great significance, nothing to suggest that there was even a club housed in the building, no signs or lights, just a huge black door. Inside it was decadent. The lighting was soft, the floors were polished wood and there were tables spread about, all packed to maximum. The bar was huge and ran the full length of one wall, mirrored panels reflecting the names of the bottle of alcohol that lined the shelves as well as the patrons of the bar that carried a reflection. As Willow sat next to Spike she noted that there were very few patrons who had a reflection.

Spike glanced at her. Since entering the club her body temperature and heartbeat had increased as well as the trembling. Spike smirked and motioned to the bartender.

"I’ll have an ale and the little girl will have a…" he looked at her quizzically. "Slippery Nipple thanks mate."

"A what?" Willow turned to look him in disgust. "I am not having body parts thank you!"

"Sambucca and Baileys, pet. You’ll like it." Spike said as the drinks were laid in front of them. Willow looked at her small shot glass compared to Spikes huge glass of beer. Hesitatingly she bought the glass up to her nose to smell, wrinkling her forehead in thought. "It won’t bite you, pet."

Willow took a final look at the drink before closing her eyes and gulping it down in one go. Her eyes watered as the liquid burnt its way down her throat. Opening her mouth she let out an extended sigh. She put the glass back down on the bar and found another waiting for her. Glancing sideways at Spike she picked up the drink and again drank it in one gulp. It was easier this time.

"It tastes like liquorice." Willow said, blinking away the alcohol induced tears. She could feel the fiery liquid working its way into her system - like warm fingers massaging from the inside.

"That’s the Sambucca." Spike raised an eyebrow at her. He had expected her to sip the first drink, making it last all night. It was probably just as well she had a couple of quick shots, it was already affecting her, lowering her heartbeat and lessening her anxiety. He called the bar tender back, instructing him to get her another shot, this time straight Sambucca. Again she threw it back.

"That is so nice – like aniseed. You know Bulls Eyes." Willow smiled at him. "Can I have another one?"

"If you like, pet." She was going to be smashed if she kept this up. Spike smiled to himself as he indicated to the bartender for another. Before Willow had a chance to bring the glass to her lips Spike gripped her arm. "Just sip this one."

"Okay." She put the glass back down on the bar. "I thought you wanted to come here to dance, not drink."

"Oh we’ll dance, pet. Don’t worry about that." He smiled as he sipped his beer.

"Where? I mean it’s packed in here – worst than the Bronze. If you really wanted to go dancing we could have done it just as well in Sunnydale. Sure not at the Bronze because that would be bad – don’t you think? But there are other places we could have gone. LA though, isn’t that just taking things a little too far?" Willow babbled, her alcohol loosen tongue quite happy to run on and on.

"Willow." Spike cut through her incoherent ramblings.

"Yes?"

"Drink your drink." Spike watched as she carelessly threw back the drink and called to the bartender.

"Hi, can I have another one of these please?" she asked. The tender looked to Spike who nodded and poured out another shot. Spike reached out and took the bottle from him, placing it in front of Willow. Leaving their drinks on the bar Spike took Willows hand and led her to the dance floor.

"Yay, we’re going to dance." Willow giggled as Spike pulled her into his arms.

"Yes, pet. We are." Spike laughed down at the sight of Willow looking up at him grinning like a Cheshire cat. Four drinks in ten minutes – she was quite the little spitfire. At least she wasn’t as tense as she had been. She was more flexible, not fighting against him, keeping eye contact and allowing her body to bend to his.

They spent the night alternately dancing and drinking, well Willow drank. Spike was amazed it didn’t seem to affect her co-ordination, she was dancing well and as for walking she was fine - except for drifting to the left occasionally. It suited her, she smiled and laughed, danced with others (only after Spike had made it known that she was his and off limits apart from dancing) and flirted outrageously with the bar tender, who unbeknown to Spike slipped her his phone number! She resembled nothing of the timid little teenager of Sunnydale.

Spike really didn’t know why he was so surprised when she accepted an offer to dance with another girl, close to her own age, in order to get her boyfriend hot and bothered. When he’d heard the proposition he had taken a sip of his beer, waiting for Willow to refuse. He nearly choked when he heard her giggle and watched her wave as she headed off to the dance floor hand in hand with the girl.

"Well this could be interesting." He murmured to no one in particular as he put down his drink and leant back against the bar to watch.

The dance wasn’t anything highly sexual, but considering that the two dancers were drunk and so were most of the patriots of the bar, it was enough. The two girls, although both of similar height and weight, were the reverse of each other. Willow, pale skin, green eyes and fiery hair dressed in black. The other tan skin, deep chocolate brown eyes and dark hair dressed in red. They complimented each other, as did their movements to the slow beat of the song they were dancing to. They played off each other as they mirrored their movements, hands tracing the contours of their bodies, hips and shoulders moving slowly in time to the music, leaning toward each other getting closer.

It worked. The girls’ boyfriend came and grabbed her from the dance floor and whisked her off into the darker confines of the club. Willow giggled until she felt an arm encircle her waist and pull her back against a hot smelly body while another hand entangled in her hair forcing her head back.

"Spike!" she yelled as she bought her heel down on the cretins’ foot and her elbow roughly back into his gut. She could hear the air hiss out of his lungs. A white blur buzzed pass the side of her face and she heard the sickening crack of bone being broken.

"Well, pet. I think you’ve gotten enough attention for tonight." Spikes other hand grasped her arm as the cretin who had grabbed her fell to the floor, clutching his shattered jaw in pain. Willow could only stare at Spike in shock.

< How the hell does he move so fast? And why is he swaying? > Willows alcohol laden mind struggled with the important questions of life.

"Why are you swaying?" Willow asked. Her only reply was him disappearing from view, the feel of a shoulder in her stomach, arms wrapped around her legs and the floor suddenly being the ceiling. "Spike, your feet are walking on the ceiling."

Spike didn’t even bother to reply as he carried her from the club and out to the car. He estimated there was about an hour until sunrise and he needed to get her out of there. First stop was a gas station to refuel the car. As he was walking toward the shop front Willow called out to put in an order for candy corn. Spike rolled his eyes and quietly cursed the effects of alcohol but none the less picked up two bags of candy covered popcorn. Once back in the car Willow dived for the popcorn, only to have Spike pull it out of her grasp.

"You can wait until we get to the house." Spike didn’t want any of the candy treats getting spilt in his car.

"The house?" Willow questioned. Spike didn’t answer, he just concentrated on his driving and for the next twenty minutes the trip was spent in silence.

"Wow." Was all Willow could manage as they drove up to an isolated beach house. Spike maneuvered the car into the garage, and once the roller-door had closed he got out and headed to the door leading into the house.

"Come on, pet. Unless you want to sit in the car all day." Spike turned back to look at a bemused Willow. She slid over the seat and followed Spike through the door.

They walked down a dark passage and into an equally dark room, until Spike turned on the light, once again causing Willow to go "Wow". It was a large room with soft carpet and three large midnight blue sofa’s, with matching drapes covering the windows from ceiling to floor. One wall was an entertainment unit fitted with state of the art audio and visual system. Spike casually picked up a remote control and flicked on the widescreen television to MTV, the sound playing from hidden speakers around the room. He threw the popcorn at Willow.

"Wow." Said Willow again. She watched as Spike crossed over to a cabinet and pulled out a bottle and two glasses. "Wow, Sambucca!"

"Last drink before you go to bed, love." Spike said, causing Willow to pout.

"I don’t want to go to bed – it’s too early." Willow said, taking the drink from Spike. "I haven’t even had my dinner yet."

Spike turned to look at her laughing lightly. She had been drinking all night on an empty stomach, he was amazed she hadn’t passed out yet.

"What’s so funny?" Willow asked, pouring herself another shot.

"You pet. You’re completely smashed!" Spike watched as she sipped her drink and narrowed her eyes at him.

"Are you, sir, suggesting that I am inebriated? Because I can assure you that although I may have indulged in one or two libations I am by no means intoxicated." The speech although very pretty would have sounded better if Willow had not been slurring slightly. Spike just shook his head and watched as she poured herself another drink.

Willow continued to drink until the bottle was empty – some two hours later. That was when she had discovered that she was hungry, spotted the popcorn and started to shove handfuls into her mouth.

"Pet, I really don’t think you should do that." Spike quietly said, taking the second bag of corn and the empty bottle back over to the cabinet.

"Why not?" Willow asked through a mouthful of popcorn.

"You have been drinking straight Sambucca for hours on an empty stomach – the last thing you want to do is eat that crap." Spike leaned back on the cabinet to look at her. She stood up and faced him.

"Well, you know, I’m really sick of you and everyone else telling me what I should or should not do. It’s my choice and if I want to stuff my face with popcorn I will." She nodded in agreement with herself and defiantly stuffed another handful of corn in her mouth. Spike let his mask of stoicism fall into place and walked over to her.

"Fine Willow, be like that." He came in close and started to slowly circle her. "But just consider this. You have copious amounts of alcohol running through your blood, something your not use to, its like a poison. Any moment now your body is going to rebel against that poison, close in on itself. Your stomach will jettison anything that it contains, your blood will struggle to move, and your bodies self-defense system will kick in trying to eliminate what you have consumed. So imagine how you’ll feel bringing all that popcorn back up, the sugar coating mixing together, perhaps some distinct colors will still be noticeable, the feel of the undigested corn scraping along your throat. Then of course there will be that delicious taste of stomach acid…"

"Bastard!" spat Willow as she felt her stomach lurch, bringing her hand up to cover her mouth. Spike grabbed her arm and hurried her to the bathroom.

"That was just too easy." Spike laughed as he walked back to the living room. He could hear Willow throw up – again and again and again. He sat down on a sofa and took off his boots, then stood up to take off the rest of his clothes until he was only in his jeans and headed back to the bathroom. Walking into the room he looked at her forlorn form sitting next to the toilet, head resting on the lid. He crouched down next to her, brushing her hair from her face. "I did warn you pet."

"You are such a bastard." Willow said softly. Spike pulled her to her feet and shoved her towards the shower. He reached in and turned the shower on full force. Willow looked at him suspiciously. "Are you naked?"

"Not quite. I will be soon and so will you." He started to undo the zip on her dress and Willow tried to slap away his hands.

"What are you doing? I don’t want to get naked with you!" her struggles were in vain as Spike caught her hands and held them still while he undressed her, then shoved her under the shower. Willow shut her eyes as she let the hot water run over her, vaguely aware that Spike had joined her in the shower. She was vague about his presence until she felt his cool hands running over her body.

< Wow, he’s got soft hands for a blood sucking fiend. > Willows alcohol muddled thoughts ran on. She looked down at the floor, her head feeling too heavy to hold up, and caught sight of Spikes hands snaking around to her stomach and breasts. < Oh, they’re soft because they’re covered in soap. Maybe they’re made of soap. No just flesh. Dead flesh, though. Vampire flesh. Flesh on flesh. Oh no that tickles. > Willow let out a giggle and leaned back against Spike, her head falling against his shoulder.

"Don’t pass out yet, pet." He murmured into her ear.

"Okay." Said Willow as she felt her eyes become heavy and blackness envelop her.

***

Part 9

"Willow" the voice was calling her from beyond the darkness.

"Mmmm?" Willow struggled to open her eyes, she couldn’t - it was just too hard.

"Come on pet, we have to get back." It was Spikes voice. As the realization hit Willow she forced her eyes open to slowly focus on Spike.

"Okay." She said, squirming around, trying to sit up. Spike raised an eyebrow as he studied her. She must have still been drunk; not a surprise really considering how much alcohol she had consumed. He helped her up off the bed. She stood swaying unsteadily, keeping a tight hold on his arm as she looked down at herself. "I’ve changed."

Willow was dressed in a pair of soft black linen trousers with a rich claret colored long sleeve T-shirt and her hair was still damp. She had a sudden flash of being in the shower with Spike and blushed.

"You saw me naked!" she hissed at Spike, pulling her hand away from him causing her to collapse back onto the bed. Bringing her hands up she covered her face. "Oh God."

Spike looked at her fallen form and rolled his eyes in exasperation. She was definitely on the tail end of the effects of the alcohol. He had let her sleep most of the day after she had passed out in the shower and expected her to be suffering from a hangover when she woke up – not still bloody drunk! He wanted to leave now so they could be back in Sunnydale before sunset. Sighing, he leaned across and gathered her up in his arms and took her out to the car. He climbed in behind the wheel and hit the roller-door control, wincing as it opened to reveal the late afternoon sun. Willow let out a groan as Spike turned the engine over.

"Does it have to be so loud?" Spike grinned, drunk but starting to sober up. He pulled her limp body to his, pressing her head to his shoulder and felt her forehead. It was starting to warm up, she was going to be as sick as a dog.

"Go back to sleep, love." He held her as the car moved out of the garage.

***

"Willow." This time there was no mistaking the voice. Willows eyes flew open – big mistake her head screamed in protest.

"Oh God." Willow groaned as she struggled to move. Her body felt like a truck had hit her. Spike smirked to himself knowing she was only going to get worse.

"Go inside, have a shower and go to bed." She could hear Spikes voice softly breaking through the horrendous screaming of her mind and body.

"Okay." Willow answered, struggling to get out of the car. Finally managing to stand she was about to shut the door when she heard Spike call to her and jingle her keys. She snatched them from him and staggered to her front door. She fumbled with the keys for about a minute before she was able to disappear into her house. Leaning back against the closed door she listened as Spike pulled away.

< If I survive this, > Willow thought, grimacing as she practically crawled up the stairs. Picking up her silk shorts and tank top she made her way to the bathroom, stopping twice to lean against the wall so she wouldn’t pass out. As soon as she saw the toilet a wave of nausea and the phantom taste of candy corn hit her. She spent the next fifteen minutes sitting in front of the toilet debating whether she would feel better if she just threw up. Giving it up as a lost cause she crawled into the shower and lay down as the water poured over her. At least that help ease the ache of her body. Finally she forced herself out of the shower, dried off and got dressed.

Willow entered her room when she heard knocking from the French doors. Cautiously she peered out of the doors and into the darkness. It was Angel. < No, no, no. > She thought to herself. She could feel the tears of pain and frustration start to fall. Hesitating for a moment she walked over, opened the doors and invited him in. "Hey, I just came by to make sure you were okay. You weren’t around last night." He stopped short, taking in her appearance, her tears and her trembling body. "Willow, what is it? What’s wrong?" "Nothing. I just don’t feel…" her mind flashed back to candy corn, making her sway on her feet and everything went black.

***

From the dark recesses of the backyard Spike watched the whole scene. He saw Angel being invited in and then Willow faint. Of course Angel had done the only thing possible - caught her and carried her to the bed. He continued to watch as Angel shut the doors and went back to Willow. Spike knew that he wouldn’t leave Willow by herself until she was better. By the way she was burning up in the car that probably wouldn’t be until sometime tomorrow. This was just too perfect. Spike stubbed out his cigarette, watched for a little longer and then turned to leave. "Think I’ll go find myself a slayer."

***

Willow was first aware of a burning pain in her head, then a throbbing ache that seem to work its way from her stomach all the way out to her fingers and toes. Subsequently she became aware that she was lying against something firm and cool, a cool hand was resting on her forehead with the thumb stroking her hair, and another hand was softly rubbing her stomach in a comforting action. She shifted her position trying to make out what was going on. "Ssshh Willow. It’s okay. You fainted." She felt Angels voice rumble under her shoulder. "I fainted?" Willow asked quietly, keeping her eyes closed against the pain. "Where am I?" Angel winced, she must have been sick if she didn’t know where she was. He had known something wasn’t right with her on Thursday night.

"You’re at home Willow. Where are your parents?" asked Angel. They were never home. He sometimes thought that they didn’t even exist.

"Angel my head hurts so much." He looked down at her, eyes held tightly close, she was speaking so quietly. Angel silently wondered if it was anything serious, fooling with the idea of calling a doctor. She was warm, not overly feverish. Probably it was nothing more than one of those pesky 24-hour bugs that plagued mankind. Nothing to do but give her aspirin and keep her fluids up. Gently he lifted her back onto the pillows and went in search of aspirins.

The logical place would be the bathroom. Walking into the room he saw a complete mess. Clothes and a towel were scattered over the floor, the shower was still gently running and soggy footprints marked the floor. Angel sighed as he stepped toward the bathroom cabinet. He halted his movements as he picked up a faint but unmistakable aroma. He glanced around the room, once more taking in the disorder. He couldn’t place the smell, but he knew it wasn’t what he associated with Willow. Pulling open the cabinet he searched for aspirin and found none. Cursing silently he stepped over to the shower turning the faucet off and picked up the towel, tossing it back on the towel rack. Next he bent down and picked up the clothes. The smell was stronger on the clothes. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying unsuccessfully to place the scent. He carried them back to Willows bedroom, folding them neatly over the back of a chair. For the first time he looked at the clothes and frowned. They weren’t what Willow would normally wear, perhaps she had borrowed them from someone, although they certainly weren’t Buffy’s style either.

Kitchen, that would be the next place to keep aspirin. Angel searched the cupboards for ten minutes before finally coming across some dissolvable aspirin. He took the box, a glass and a bottle of water back to the room. Willow was still on the bed but had curled into a fetal position, knees drawn up to her chest. Reaching out he placed a cool hand against her forehead, causing her to jerk back, eyes flying open only to be filled with tears of pain as she bought her hands up to her head.

"Willow, I want you try and drink this, okay?" he held the glass out to her. She just shook her head.

"I can’t, Angel." She felt terrible and quite sure that if she even tried to drink it she would throw up. She could feel tears burning behind her eyes.

"Willow, you’re sick and dehydrated. I need you to at least have a drink. Come on, just one glass." Angel urged and held the glass to her lips, watching as she slowly drank. He could see tears welling in her eyes and putting the glass down he pulled her back against his chest, rocking her and stroking her hair. "It’s alright Willow, I’m here. Go to sleep now."

Willow hiccuped into his shoulder, allowing his gentle rocking to lull her back to sleep. Angel rested his chin on the sleeping girls’ head, wondering how something like this could happen. Last night at the Bronze both Buffy and Xander seem nonplussed at her absence, dismissing it with a wave of the hand and mumbling something about a headache. He knew exactly where Buffy and Xander would be tonight, at their usual table at the Bronze, probably not even noticing the non-appearance of their friend for another night. He wondered if Buffy had even bothered to call to find out if Willow was okay. Perturbed, Angel thought she would have only rung if she needed something. Angel didn’t think that Buffy was intentionally selfish, it was nonetheless one of her traits. He had often wondered at the differences between the two girls. Although Buffy had physical strength and was a striking girl, Willow had other qualities not so immediately arresting. Physically Angel had always thought her to be pretty, but she had a strength of character that Buffy seemed to lack, maybe it was her intelligence, her unusual sense of humor or the fact that she was always genuine in her concern unlike the façade Buffy often presented.

A shudder from Willow brought Angel out of his reverie of thoughts. He rested the back of his hand against Willows cheek, she wasn’t as warm as before and her hands were cold against his chest. Holding her carefully he reached down and pulled the comforter up over both of them, making sure it was securely tucked around Willow. Leaning back against the pillows Angel allowed himself enjoy the sensation of Willows warm body pressed against his own. Closing his eyes he drifted to sleep.

***

Angel awoke at the slight movement in his arms.

"Willow?" he questioned.

"I’m going to be sick." Quickly he sat her up and grabbed the waist bin. Willow leaned over it and dry heaved a few times before shaking her head. "Nope, I was wrong."

Angel removed the waist bin and looked at the clock, 4am. He looked back to Willow, and pushed her hair back from her face, his palm cupping her pale cheek, once more it was warm.

"How you feeling?" he moved to the side of the bed and poured her a glass of water, dropping two aspirin in.

"Better." Willow said, she could feel herself shaking, a dull ache behind her eyes and had to fight back the urge to gag. But at least her head wasn’t pounding and she had stopped aching. She could feel Angels hand on her shoulder urging her to lean back against him. His hand pressed against her forehead, feeling delightfully cool against her clammy skin.

"Good, drink this." Angel knew she was lying, he could see her hand tremble as she took the glass from him. She slowly sipped the contents. Angel reached down to take the empty glass from her hands, he could feel her relax against him again.

"You don’t have to stay Angel. I’ll be fine." She barely whispered, but Angel heard easily enough. Before he could even say he was staying she was sound asleep. Laying her back against the pillows Angel bought the comforter back up. He took a final look before heading off to find something he could use to cover the windows.

***

Across town in the mansion Buffy sat in front of the fireplace. Waiting. Her impatience growing with every second that past.

***

Part 10

Angel made his way through the garden of the mansion. He had stayed with Willow until he was satisfied she was all right – once she was able to keep down toast, water and had been more herself. Although when he left she was still quiet, but he put that down to her being ill. His plan for this evening was simple. Go home, grab a bite to eat, shower and head out to see Buffy. He got home and saw Buffy. She turned to glare at him with anger filled blue eyes.

"Where the hell have you been?" she spat.

"Buffy, what are you doing here? Have you been waiting long?" Angel walked over to her, but Buffy stepped away from him. She was furious.

"How long? Long enough to know that you haven’t been here since last night! So does my boyfriend want to tell me where the hell he’s been for the last 24 hours?" Buffy yelled. Angel watched her silently; he was getting tired of her selfish temper tantrums.

"Buffy, this routine is getting old." Angel passed a hand over his eyes and turned away from the irate slayer.

"Don’t you dare turn your back on me!" she hissed, grabbing his arm and spinning him back to face her. "Don’t try and walk away from me, from this – I have a right to know!"

For the next eight hours the mansion halls echoed with the hysterical screaming demands of a jealous slayer. Never once did Angel furnish her with an answer to his whereabouts.

A little seed of doubt planted by a devious and cunning vampire can go a long way.

***

Willow felt bad. She had been touched by Angel’s concern. She hadn’t enlightened him to the real cause of her illness, preferring to agree that she had caught a bug. < Yes, alcoholious scullious! > She shook her head in disbelief. 

Here she was Monday morning dressed in her regulation fluffy stuff ready for school, with hours to go before she even had to make her way there. Deciding she needed some fresh air to clear her thoughts she opened the French windows. Sitting directly in front of the doors were two shop boxes, with her black strappy shoes on top. < Oh no, this is not good. > Willow felt her stomach drop as she bought the boxes into her room. Carefully she removed the lid of the first box to reveal a layer of tissue paper, underneath Willow was shocked to see the soft white silk and lace knickers and bra set that had been in the dressing room in LA. As she delved deeper into the box through the layers of tissue paper she counted the full 7 sets. Pushing that box aside she opened the second. Sitting on top of the layer of paper was the black jewelry box, inside was the choker. Under the paper was the dress. < Oh no. >

There were no notes, no indication as to who the boxes were from, but of course there was no doubt that it was Spike.

***

Willow walked into the library and was startled by the sight of Buffy crying, with Giles sitting besides her doing his best to be of comfort.

"Buffy, what is it? What’s happened?" Willow rushed to the side of her friend.

"A…A…Angel." She hiccuped. Willows eyes flew open in horror.

"Oh, oh Buffy what happened? Is he…" she was unable to even ask the question.

"He won’t tell me where he was Saturday night. I mean, Giles, you know what vampires are like – they have huge appetites for all types of things. You know sexual. And if there was nothing going on then why wouldn’t he just tell me? Oh god, what if it’s Drusilla? What if…" Buffy continued her hysterical ravings as Willow comprehended what she had said.

"Buffy, Angel was with me on Saturday." Buffy turned, wide-eyed to look at her friend.

"You? He spent the whole night with you? Why on earth would he do that?" Buffy stared at Willow, her mouth hanging open.

"I was sick and he stayed to look after me." Willow hesitatingly offered.

"Oh thank god, I have nothing to worry about. He was only with Willow! Are you sure he was with you the whole night?" Buffy words unintentionally stung Willow to the core.

"Yes, the whole night and Sunday until the sun went down. In fact, you know I’m not feeling that great still. I might cut this afternoons classes and go home early." Willow picked up her bag and left the library to the sound of Buffy ranting about how terrible she felt. She had broken up with Angel and he was only with Willow. How silly could she be? Of course she would have to go over there right away, tell him he was forgiven and then engage in a couple of hours of tears and soothing kisses. Willow just wanted to get the hell out of there.

***

Willow woke up the next morning and groaned as she saw another two boxes sitting at the doors. < Why is he doing this? > She thought to herself as she struggled out of bed and grabbed the boxes. She hesitatingly opened the first box. It was the long black boots. Willow already knew that the second box held the leather skirt and green top. Opening it she saw a note.

Dancing tonight, 7pm Bronze.

It wasn’t signed and although she didn’t recognize the writing she knew it was from Spike. Sitting down on the edge of her bed she looked over the note again. < It’s Tuesday night, the Bronze will be deserted, especially at seven. If I don’t go… > Willow wondered what the consequences would be if she didn’t go. He hadn’t hurt her, so far. There was no threat attached to the note, but the instructions were clear and just the knowledge of who had sent it was threat enough. < Who am I kidding? I’ll go. > Sighing at the finality of that thought, Willow got ready for school.

***

"Hey Willow." Willow felt Oz’s arm encircle her waist softly pulling her back into his warm embrace. "How you feeling today?"

Willow was starting to dread that question.

"Good, how about you?" she asked automatically.

"Not bad. I missed you on the weekend though. We’re having a jam session tonight at Devon’s – you should come." He kissed the back of her shoulder.

"Oh, tonight? I…I can’t. I have a paper I really need to do some research for." She looked down at her feet. < Great, lie to him. That’s going to look great. When? When will it look great? When you’re lying dead in a gutter, the life force drained from your body? Oh god. >

"Okay, perhaps tomorrow we could do something?" he let go of her waist as he came to his classroom.

"Yeah, tomorrow." Willow said, smiling. < That’s if there will be a tomorrow. > Willow kept walking until she found herself in the library.

"Hey Will, what you doing?" Buffy greeted her as she walked through the doors. Buffy continued without even pausing to let her answer. "Can you believe Giles wants me to train tonight? I mean just ‘cause I miss a few nights here and there he suddenly demands that I do a session tonight. What is it with these English? Are they all Nazi’s?"

"Nazi’s were German based Buffy." Willow answered quietly.

"Oh, well, I knew that." Buffy smiled. "So you want to keep me company?"

"Hey I thought I was the Buffsters companion for the evening?!" Xander exclaimed from where he was sitting at the table. Willow smiled, where ever Buffy was Xander wasn’t far behind.

"No Buffy, I think I’ll skip it tonight. You know what they say two’s company, three’s a crowd. I’m going to do some research at home for a paper anyway." Buffy raised her eyebrows at Willow and started on at how Giles was such a slave driver and how she didn’t have a life worth living.

After two hours of that, Willow was happy to finally get away and head home. To the boots. To the clothes. To her appointment at 7pm.

***

Willow was sitting at a table in one of the dark corners of the Bronze, watching people. Tuesday was not the most popular night for Bronzing, so there were very few people – mainly the sort who were more interested in flashing their fake ID’s and getting smashed rather than in what was going on or who was there. It wasn’t the cream of Sunnydale youth – especially not the sort who would know her. She thanked a god she didn’t believe in for small mercies. She studied the few people carefully, failing jocks, girls who were just too slutty to be cool, morons who thought they were cool because they could get the sluts – it was just a viscous circle that would continue to turn. So lost was Willow in her observations that she didn’t even realize that Spike had arrived.

"You came, pet." Spike spoke softly as he sat down on the stool next to hers. The duster creaked in protest. Willow glanced at him.

"I didn’t really have much of a choice."

"There are always choices. That outfit looks even better than it did in LA. Such a exquisite color – on you." He ran his fingers lightly up the sleeve of the top, making Willow shiver.

"So I had a choice? And if I hadn’t come?" she asked him. He stared at her for a moment, face devoid of expression.

"Doesn’t matter – you’re here. Come on." He grabbed her hand and led her to the deserted dance floor.

The first dance was a disaster. Willow was self-conscious. She stumbled twice against Spike. She was distinctly aware that every set of eyes were on them. Her nervous glances at the occupied tables confirmed her fears, making her miss many of the turns that Spike tried to maneuver her to do. As the music stopped she heard Spike sigh, causing her to look at him for the first time since they had begun dancing. He was staring at her, an eyebrow raised in question while the rest of his face was set in a snarl. Willow broke the eye contact as Spike pushed her away from him.

"Stay." The one word told Willow exactly what he meant. She watched through lowered lashes as Spike strode over to the DJ, grabbed his shirt and pulled him across the console and right into his face. Not wanting to watch the incensed vampire anymore, Willow turned her attention back to the few occupants of the Bronze. Most of the guys were leering at her, whilst the sluts giggled into their ears.

Spike’s arm encircled her waist, reaching around to take her hand, ready to spin her. He felt the hand tremble.

"I don’t want to be here. I want to go." Willow spoke decidedly, her eyes still fixed on the few occupants of the Bronze. Spike spun her around to face him, her back to the patrons.

"Why?" he growled, lowering his head just inches from Willows. She couldn’t answer him, couldn’t think of a justifiable reason apart from the fact she felt self-conscious. Spike turned her back to face the kids at the bar. Whispering into her ear. "Are you worried about those wankers? Hmm? Don’t be. They’ll be dead soon, to stupid to look after themselves. All of them will be nothing more than a pile of dust. They aren’t even worthy of the time you waste thinking about them."

Willow could feel him move in close behind her, his arms snaking around her waist to hold both her hands, fingers entwining with her own. With a sudden jerk he pulled her hard up against his body, and changed ears.

"Tonight they don’t exist. There are only three things that you need to acknowledge tonight. You, me and the music. You will look only at me, will concentrate only on me. Do you understand?" he growled into her ear, his fingers pressing tightly against her captured ones. She nodded her agreement.

Suddenly he stepped back from her and spun her around to face him, drawing her gaze to his. Pulling her into the familiar stance he smirked as he led her off. Willow allowed herself to become lost in the music, in their movements, the feel of his fingers against hers, his hand cupping the small of her back, his unwavering gaze. The steps they made became blurred together in a strange mixture of pleasure and obedience. She forgot all about the others in the Bronze as she surrendered herself to Spike, loosing herself in the sensations of pleasure that coursed through her as they danced. When Spikes stare became too much she closed her eyes against it, concentrating on the feel of his hands against her body.

The music, like them, never stopped. As soon as one song would end another would immediately start – the DJ obviously living in fear that if the music stopped even for the briefest of moments he would be dead. It was a peculiar mixture of music, songs that were rarely played in the Bronze. Slow songs of a waltz, through to good old fashioned rock and roll. To Willow the night started to become a blur of music, swings, spins and the feel of Spikes arms enveloping her, his body pressed against hers.

"My god, is that not tacky? Hiring professional dancers for quiet nights! What is management thinking?" Cordelia asked her friends as they walked toward their usual table for after movie drinks and chitchat. "I mean, as if that’s going to encourage anyone else to get up there and make a fool…"

Her voice ran off as she looked closer at the couple on the dance floor. They were familiar. Red hair and peroxide blonde. Wearing leather?! She got up and headed to the payphone, leaving her friends to moan incessantly about management’s stupidity. Quickly she dialed the number of the library, not even waiting for Giles to say a word.

"Okay, you all have to get down to the Bronze, like ten minutes ago!" without even waiting for an answer she hung up and moved to the door to wait. Xander was the first of the foursome to enter.

"What is it Cordy?" he asked as she dragged him forward and pointed to the oblivious couple currently waltzing on the floor. "So, dancers. What he’s yours and you want Buffy to…Oh my god."

He stopped dead in tracks as he realized it was Willow, in a leather skirt, with matching