Bloody Red by Kallie Rose

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

Summary: Willow is back in Sunnydale and dealing with the loss of William.

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

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 For the first year she had been sad, withdrawn, and barely functioning.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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And this, this would be truly unpleasant as well, I take it," he asked with a smile, as he bent his head down and captured one of her breasts with his mouth. Slowly, deliberately, he let his tongue play along the edges of her areole, then pulled his lips back and kissed just the tip of her breast. Her mind might not be enjoying this, he thought, but her body was having a heck of a time. Her nipples were standing at attention, a testament to his attentions. His tongue wandered over to the other nipple, giving it the same treatment.

He looked up again at Willow's face. Her eyes were closed, her breath coming now in shallow pants. Hair splayed out around her head, framing her still, flushed face. Her hands grabbed and released the comforter underneath her. As much as she tried to deny it, she was not immune to his attentions. Try as she might, she could not stop her body from responding to him. The thought brought a smile to his lips.

He continued kissing his way down her body, her fevered skin warming his lips and her salty goodness flavoring each kiss. He unbuttoned her pants then pulled off her underwear, obstacles to his ultimate goal. As he reached her tender curls, his hand brushed her lower lips, and she jerked back away from him. He looked up at her face, but she again she had her eyes closed and her indifferent expression seemed to mock him.

She was ignoring him, he realized. She was obeying the letter of their agreement, and just that, no more. No matter what he tried, he would get no willing response out of her. The thought drove him crazy. Fine, he decided angrily. If that was the way she wanted to play the game, then he was more than up to the challenge.

He pulled himself back up, leaving the warmth of her body just long enough divest himself of his clothing. Then he was back on the bed, moving to position his cock outside her entrance. Without a word of warning he thrust into her, battering his way up her passage until he was embedded as deeply as he could go. He held himself in her, waiting for her reaction. Her eyes flickered open, swimming with pain and tears, and they met his angry ones.

She was scared now; he could see it in her eyes. Good, he thought. She'd better get used to it.

Then he set his pace, slamming into her over and over again. Tears flowed rapidly from her eyes now, as she reached her hands over her head, putting them against the headboard in an effort to minimize her movement. Each time he smashed into her, he seemed to go just a little deeper, her channel clenching just a little tighter around him.

As he continued to thrust, he took her mouth in a bruising kiss, attempting to force her lips open in order to deepen the invasion. She refused, keeping her lips as tight as she could, not willing to give him anything more. Finally, frustrated beyond belief by her actions, her attitude, he grabbed her right nipple, twisting it brutally. As she screamed, his mouth crashed back down onto hers, his tongue forcing its way inside. His tongue attacked her mouth, plundering and exploring, tasting everything it could. Her breath had a sweet, pure taste, better than any fine wine.

Finally, all too soon, he felt the end approach. One last brutal shove and he shot his seed deep inside her. As he pulled out of her, she turned on her side, away from him, so that he wouldn't see the bitter tears she cried.

A part of him wanted to hold her, comfort her. But it was the weaker side of him, and the stronger side, the demon, won out. Instead, he pulled her to him, her back against his chest.

"Mine," he growled softly, turning her to face him and looking into her eyes. Her expression impassive, tears making tracks down her cheeks, she merely returned his gaze.

"Yours." She answered, the words barely a whisper. "For now," she added, as he released her face and pulled her to him again.

The quiet stillness of morning had now given way to the movements of the early afternoon. He could hear the muted voices of children playing in the neighborhood, their shrieks and calls ringing faintly in his ears.

He watched her sleep; her breathing was even and regular, like the beating of her heart. Fiery red hair fell like a curtain across her face, hiding it from his view. He pushed it gently back behind her ear, tucking it there so that he could gaze upon her.

His brain ran quietly in circles, trying to figure out what he was feeling. Why did part of him feel the need to apologize to her? To beg her forgiveness for his actions last night? But other parts of him longed to shake her, make her see how right last night was, and make her admit it as well. And then there was the part of him that didn't want to think at all, just wanted to do it all over again, and again, and again…

Why did she have to be so goddamn stubborn, he thought in frustration. Didn't she realize that this could be good for both of them? That he could teach her so much? Maybe it was just too early for her. Perhaps he should have given her more time to adjust to her situation. She was really just a girl, so very young, despite the fact that she had lived through so much.

She made a fluttering movement with her hands, bringing his attention back to her small body. He gazed again at her face, trying to discern the quality of her dreams from her expressions. He suspected that whatever she was experiencing wasn't to her liking, and when she jolted awake, his thoughts were confirmed.

"Good morning," he whispered softly into her ear, pulling her back against him. "Did you sleep well?"

She was still for a moment, taking in her surroundings. The sounds of children playing in the street reminded her of happier times, when things were less complicated. Times when the most important choice one had to make was which game to play after school.

Finally she sighed, and then stretched, her body tensing and relaxing. At last she answered, continuing to stare blankly towards the window. "I slept fine, I guess. I'm not a morning person, you know? Then again, I'm guessing that morning is long gone. What time is it?"

"A little after noon. I thought about waking you earlier, but you just looked so sweet that I decided to let you be."

"Noon already? Crap!" She sighed softly, then continued, "I'd better get up. I've got a class at one, but I still need to take a shower and I guess I'd better grab some lunch."

"Yes, class," she confirmed, not seeming to notice the irritation in his voice. "European Literature first, then Art History. I should be home by 5, I think. I've transferred all my classes to late afternoon. Figured I'd probably need my mornings for sleep," she admitted.

"I don't want you going to school," he told her, his voice brooking no argument.

She sat up suddenly, turning to face him, her expression set into cold lines of determination. "I don't care what you want. I'm still going to school. I may be giving up a year of my life for you, but I am *not* going to give up my education. You will just have to deal with it," she told him, her voice getting louder and harsher with each word. Her hands balled into fists, although her arms stayed at her sides.

He stared at her with those cool blue eyes for a moment, but saw that she would not back down from this fight. "Fine, you can go. But you'd better come straight home afterwards, no dawdling. I have plans for this evening."

Willow felt a rush of relief at his acquiescence. She would have pushed it if she had to; she was not going to give in on this, but she was glad that it had not come to that. However, the talk of "plans" for the evening made her more than a little uneasy. If it was anything like last night…well, she didn't know how much of that she could take.

She shook her head quickly, trying to dispel the images that flashed through her mind. The feel of his body moving with hers, the look on his face as he fucked her. No, such thoughts would definitely not help her now. Movement, actions and routine were what would keep her mind off her problems. She got up and practically ran into the bathroom, embarrassed by her nudity. His laughter floated through the air even after she closed the door.

Once safely locked inside, she performed her morning routine, hoping that the familiar rituals would calm her troubled mind. A quick shower made her feel so much better.

Finally, wrapped in a towel, she made her way into the bedroom, grabbing her clothes as she went. Will had disappeared, although she could hear his faint movements as he busied himself in the kitchen. Thankful that she had the room to herself, she quickly changed into her clothes and collected her purse and her books.

She stuck her head out the bedroom door, making sure the coast was clear, then scurried down the stairs, yelling out a hurried, "I'll be back by 5," as she rushed out of the house.

The afternoon passed in a haze for Willow. Her private thoughts occupied most of her attention, schoolwork coming in a distant second. Maybe third.

She saw Buffy across campus between classes. She waved, trying to catch her eye. The slayer looked right at her and what was in her eyes froze Willow to the spot. She knew that the change in their relationship was going to have consequences, but she had hoped that Buffy wouldn't freeze her out of her life completely. Obviously that was what was going to happen though.

She sighed sadly. Right now she really could have used someone to talk to. Her mind was jumbled, unsure what to think about the events of the previous evening. It hadn't been rape, not exactly, but they certainly hadn't made love either.

All of Willow's previous experiences with sex had been rather gentle, tentative acts. William had treated her like a china doll he was afraid of breaking. Her few other partners had behaved similarly.

Will, on the other hand, had treated her like a toy, only there for his pleasure. Well, no, she thought, that wasn't completely true. In the beginning he had been sweet, seductive, gentle. It was only after he had realized that she was not going to participate in the act that he'd turned nasty, using his body to punish her for her refusal.

It was going to be a long year if this was the pattern they were going to follow. Her refusing to let him give her pleasure, him taking out all his frustration on her. Still, she wasn't sure if she could just give in. What *would* happen if she just let go and enjoyed the feelings that he caused her to feel? She tried so hard to be in command of herself and her emotions. The thought of being truly out of control, under someone else's power, was frightening.

But what truly terrified her was the thought that she might like it. Might like giving up responsibility for her actions and reactions. What sort of a person would that make her? And after that year was finished and she and Will were through, what would happen to her then? Would she be able to find that strength and control again? Or would she become the kind of woman who let herself be controlled and defined by whichever man she was with at the time?

Her feet took her to the Magic Box, hoping to talk with either Giles or Anya. Hoping that there was someone left in her life that would still be her friend. She had cut her second class, remembering Will's warning to be home by 5.

As she walked into the familiar shop her mind flew back to happier days spent researching, talking, joking, or just being together with her friends. Her thoughts grew sad again. She hoped that when all this was over she could have those things back again.

"Hi Anya," she called to the girl behind the counter. The shop seemed to be otherwise empty.

"Willow! You're still alive!" Anya greeted her gleefully, using her tried and true ability to make the most inappropriate choice of words for any situation.

"Yep, I'm still life-having and everything. Disappointed?" she asked with a grin.

"Nope, although there are some," Anya whispered with a grimace, "who will be rather surprised. Oh, happily so, don't get me wrong."

"Let's just say that Xander was pretty sure he'd never see you during daylight hours again," Anya said, confirming Willow's suspicions.

"I know. I mean he wants the sex, right? And if you're dead, well, it's different. Actually, if you're dead, well then it's just *ick*. But if you're undead, then it's different. If he wanted to fuck a demon, he'd have just gone out and made a childe or found another vampire. But he wanted you, which means he wants you the way you are, right?"

"I don't know anymore," Willow confessed. "Can – can we talk? I really need to talk to someone."

Anya took a quick look around, taking in the lack of customers in the store. She led Willow to a table and they both sat.

"So what do you want to talk about," Anya asked, uncharacteristically hesitant at the thought of a serious conversation. She knew that her friend was hurt, unsure, and needing guidance. The ex-demoness didn't have many friends. She wanted to keep this one.

"I'm just so confused," Willow confessed. "God, I feel like I've been saying that phrase ever since he came into my life. What the hell is wrong with me?"

Anya looked at her friend sadly. She knew exactly what was *wrong* with her friend. She's falling for him, Anya thought to herself. But do I tell her? Is she ready to accept it yet? Probably not.

"Him. Me. Oh, everything," she wailed, putting her head on the table in defeat. Pulling her head back up, she continued, "I mean, he can be so kind. He got us this house with this huge library. And do you know what he says? He tells me he got it because he knew I'd like it. And I think to myself that maybe he isn't that bad after all. Then he goes and does something else, something bad, and I – I can't figure him out."

Willow's eyes darted from wall to wall, trying to decide what to say about last night, if anything. No, she decided, she wasn't ready to talk about it yet. Not all of it, anyway. Talking to Anya had helped though. Just knowing somebody still cared about her made her feel better, less alone.

"I'm sorry, Anya. I've got to go. I promised Will I'd be back by 5. But I want to keep you in my life. Can we…we're still friends, aren't we? Buffy, well, she's pretty mad at me. And I'd understand if you didn't – "

"Shut up, Willow," Anya told her, a smile on her face. "Buffy's not the boss of me," she said, mock indignation flickering in her eyes. "Of course you're still my friend. In fact, what about coffee?"

"Yeah, coffee. You know, it's hot and brown and kind of liquid-y? So how about every week we have a standing date for coffee. I mean, we can get together other times too, but even if we're busy and don't have time, we always need coffee, right?"

It was a babbling worthy of Willow and it made her smile, really smile, for the first time that day. "Coffee, every Tuesday at 3. Good for you?"

"Yes," Anya gave her friend an impulsive hug, then pushed her towards the door. "Now get out of here, you're scaring all the customers away."

"Out, out. I mean it. Another hour like this and I might as well just close up and go home!"

"I'm going, I'm going," Willow said, laughing softly as she made her way out the door.

Five o'clock on the dot, Willow thought as she walked through the door and into the house. She looked around warily for some sign of Will. She found him in the study, reclining on one of the couches, a book in his hands. Science fiction, she saw. Not what she would have expected. Then again, he always did manage to surprise her.

As he sensed her appearance in the doorway he sat up, looking towards her. "You came back," he said, slightly surprised.

"Of course I did. I promised I'd be back by 5, so here I am." He thought I had left for good, she realized. After last night, he thought I'd turn tail and run, regardless of any promises I made. The fact that he had misjudged her so severely annoyed Willow.

Will looked at her thoughtfully, then got up and walked towards the doorway, brushing past her as he headed out into the hallway.

He looked back at her and told her, "We're going out. Grab something casual and meet me at the door in five minutes."

Willow headed to the bedroom and quickly changed into a pair of jeans and a forest green blouse. She wasn't sure what he was up to, but she'd play along for now. The redhead gave herself a little mental pep talk all the while. Her main goal this evening was to stay calm and relaxed. If she did that, maybe things would go better tonight.

Taking one last look in the mirror, she left the bedroom and made her way down the stairs. Will was waiting for her at the bottom, dressed in black jeans and a blood red silk shirt. He smiled approvingly as he watched her walk down the stairs, taking her arm as he led her to the car. Once they were seated, he turned to her and she noticed a piece of black silk in his hands.

"I've got a surprise for you," he told her, letting the silk run through his fingers.

She looked at him with trepidation. Relax, she told herself. Remember, stay calm. She slowed her breathing and relaxed in her seat. Questions filled her eyes as they met his, but his face was devoid of emotion. Finally she turned her back to him, allowing him to place the silk gently in front of her eyes, the softness caressing her skin. She felt his hands tying it in back, lingering just a little longer than necessary on her soft hair.

"Good girl," he murmured approvingly, running his hand comfortingly along her back as if she were some sort of animal he was trying to calm.

Willow turned to face forward, eyes seeing nothing. She worked again at relaxing herself, telling herself that this was nothing but a game. He wouldn't hurt her. He had no reason to, as long as she did as he asked. There was a certain amount of comfort in that thought.

Will started the car and moved out into traffic. After a couple of turns Willow quickly lost track of where they were going. They were on the open highway, she was pretty sure, since they were traveling at a fairly rapid, even pace. Their final destination, however, was still a mystery. The silence between them stretched endlessly. Willow thought about attempting small talk but decided that it would be rather absurd to ask him how his day went.

Eventually, after what seemed like 15 or 20 minutes, the car slowed, and then stopped. Willow, lost in her thoughts, hadn't even noticed.

"We're here, pet," she heard his soft voice in her ear and started in surprise. "Stay here for a minute and I'll let you out when I'm ready, okay?"

"Okay," she replied. Calm, calm, calm, became her mantra. She heard him open his door, then close it. There were faint noises outside; she heard him remove things from the trunk of the car and arrange them on the ground. Finally, when she was almost convinced that he had left her there for the evening, she heard her door open. Gentle hands helped her make her way out of the car and led her to the edge of a blanket. She could hear the crashing of waves in the distance and the sounds of nature nearer by. When she was seated on a blanket, he joined her and untied the blindfold.

She opened her eyes and looked around. It was beautiful. They sat atop a high bluff overlooking the ocean, the lights of the city twinkling off in the distance. The sound of the waves booming against the rocks was calming, relaxing, invigorating. Willow turned to look at Will and smiled.

"This is a wonderful surprise," she told him, her eyes sparkling and her face bright with joy. "I've always loved the sound of the ocean. It's just so…calm. So inevitable. No matter what happens, how things change, it'll always be there, day after day, year after year. Does that make sense?"

"Sure does, luv. It means that no matter how much life changes, or how much you change, there's something that will always remain a constant."

"That's it exactly," she said, excited that he understood what she was trying to say.

Will put a plate in front of her and Willow realized that this was a picnic. He had brought sandwiches, fruit, nibbling food and a bottle of wine. As he put her plate in front of her with a small flourish, she eagerly began to eat. She hadn't realized just how hungry she was.

Funny, the question that she thought sounded silly earlier sounded just fine coming from his lips, she realized. A little sliver of pain flashed across her face as she remembered her encounter with Buffy.

The movement was not lost to Will's eyes. Something had happened today that made her unhappy. "What happened, Red? Someone hurt you?"

"Dull, dull, dull. You sure I couldn't persuade you to take a year off from school," he asked hopefully. "We could do things then, go places. I know you'd miss your friends – "

"What friends?" The bitter words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them. She turned away from him, wishing she could take them back. She hadn't wanted to get into this with him. Not that she thought he really gave a damn. As far as he was concerned, the Scoobies were just an annoyance. But to her, they were everything…her friends, her confidantes, her social life, just – everything.

She turned away from him, not wanting him to see the tears building in her eyes. Not wanting to see the smirk on his face, or the pity in his eyes.

He reached out and touched her shoulder, an unexpectedly comforting gesture. "Things were rough today?"

"Yeah," she said softly, surprised at his response. "Buffy just looked at me like I was a stranger. No, not a stranger, an enemy."

Will didn't say anything for a moment. Then he sighed. "I guess I might have expected that from the moron or the slut, but I thought the others had a little more substance to them."

"Anya's still talking to me," she admitted. "I haven't seen Giles yet. But he's made no effort to get in touch with me. I'm sure Buffy doesn't want him to see me."

"I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it," he told her angrily. "The point of this wasn't to make you unhappy."

"And just what *was* the point of this? To hurt Buffy? To get back at me for what happened before? I swear I just don't understand you at all!"

He laughed harshly. "You think I'm so difficult to figure out? Try looking at yourself, luv. I swear, I haven't a clue as to what you're thinking or feeling most of the time. Hell, sometimes I don't think *you* know either!"

He looked at her coolly then told her, "It seems to me like you don't know what you want sometimes. Most of the time, really."

"Willow's inconsistencies," he teased, lying down on his back and staring up at the stars. "Might as well be comfortable, this might take a while."

"Shut up," she muttered, laying down next to him and staring up at the same stars.

"Okay, example number one," he started, determined not to let it go. "You kill demons and vampires with regularity. Yet you're one of the most softhearted people I know. I bet you couldn't even kill a spider if you found one in your room."

"You'll have to do better than to convince me that I'm inconsistent," she told him.

"Okay, then let's talk about last night." The minute he said the words he wished he could take them back. He could feel the increased tension in her body. The conversation had gone from gentle teasing to deadly serious in the space of mere seconds.

"Willow," he told her softly, "You're a beautiful, passionate woman. I know that. I remember it from before and I've seen evidence of it now. But you refuse to let that side of you out. It's as if you're scared of losing control because you're afraid of what might happen."

The silence stretched on for what seemed like an hour to Will. He continued to look up at the stars; he'd said what he meant to, now it was up to her to make the next move.

Willow lay there quietly, collecting her thoughts. She wanted to say things the right way so she searched carefully for the words.

"I *am* afraid, sometimes," the redhead started softly. She continued looking straight up, unable to meet his eyes. Willow knew that if she did, she would be lost completely. "What if I let go and something bad happens?"

"What if I start to feel something? Something for you," she answered, her words the quietest whisper.

The words hit him like the proverbial ton of bricks. He had imagined a dozen different reasons for her behavior, but this had never been one of them.

"This – us – it's just for a year," she continued. "So I fall for you, the year ends, you're gone, and I turn into some depressed, weeping little child again. I did that before when I lost you," she confessed. "I can't go through it again."

Willow snuck a look at his face, wondering what he was thinking. Was he annoyed, disgusted, saddened? As usual, his voice and face gave nothing away. He'd be a great poker player, she thought idly.

"My parents were so worried about me that they actually spent some time with me. It was weird. Did I tell you? They took me to London. If they had had any idea that I'd been there before, and under what circumstances…"

He smiled at that, wondering how her parents would have dealt with the fact that not only had she been there before, but over a hundred years in the past. "They would have put you in a padded room," he finished the sentence for her.

"In one of those funny jackets with the arms that go around your back," she added, giggling softly. "I wonder if they have those jackets in any other colors? White makes my skin look so washed out sometimes," she added absentmindedly.

Will resisted the urge to stare at her in amazement; the loops and turns her mind made always fascinated him. After her confessions tonight, he felt that he understood her a little better. She was just scared. And fear was one emotion he could definitely comprehend. Sure, he thought to himself, he was usually the one causing the fear, but he still had a pretty good understanding of it.

Her mind must have continued with its twists and turns because the next words out of her mouth were a complete surprise to him, as usual. "Are you mad at me?"

"Because of before. Because you got turned while you were looking for me. It was my fault."

He turned to face her then, lying on his side and looking into her eyes. "What happened wasn't your fault, not really. I mean, yes, you played a part in the story, I suppose, but chance played the biggest role in the drama. Fate, chance, karma, whatever you believe in. It happened because it was meant to, that's all. So no, I don't blame you."

He thought a bit before continuing: "I was angry at you when I first saw you here. I guess I did blame you just a little bit, in the beginning. I thought that you had deliberately set me up. Once I thought about it, though, I realized that you were just as much fate's pawn as I was."

He rolled onto his back again and looked up at the stars once more, his mind on things that had happened over a hundred years ago. Her next questions brought him back to the present again.

"Do you hate it, being a vampire? Do you ever get bored? Lonely? Do you miss seeing the sun?"

She thought about his answers for a minute, trying to remember the order in which she asked the questions. "Wait, you gave too many answers. What's the 'maybe' for?"

He sat up and smirked at her, then began packing up the remains of their picnic. "I'll never tell," he answered, leaving her to ponder the question on her own.

She was quiet all the way home, processing the events of the evening, reviewing them in her mind. Which Will was the real Will? The one from last night, or the man who took her out for a picnic tonight? Or was he really a combination of the two? Well, she had a whole year to find out, she supposed. Might as well take it slowly.

Willow suppressed a yawn as she entered the house. It was late again. For a human, at least. For a vampire it was probably early evening, she supposed. She climbed the stairs to the bedroom and headed off to change.

"Go to bed, Red, you can barely keep your eyes open," he told her. "I'm going to find a good book, I'll be in a little later."

She looked at him in surprise, but did as he requested before he could change his mind. In mere minutes she was in bed and sleeping soundly.

When Will came in later that was how he found her, lying peacefully on her back, hair splayed out on the pillow like red flames. He soon joined her, smiling to himself as she reached towards him in her sleep, her cheek coming to rest on his stomach, her hands on his chest.

Willow woke up much more comfortably this morning, a strong arm over her shoulders and her head cushioned on a fleshy alabaster pillow. Her first reaction was a blush that covered her face completely. Apparently she had taken liberties in the night, her body draping itself along his in order to gain comfort. She silently moved her head upward, trying to see if he was awake.

His eyes were closed and his breathing was…well, non-existent. He *looked* like he was asleep, but who the heck knew, she wondered. She tried to slowly slide her body out from under his arm, but the arm tightened and pulled her back to him. She looked up again into laughing blue eyes.

"Good morning Red," he greeted her, kissing her softly on her forehead. It was the gentlest of touches, and it served to relax her just a bit.

"Morning," she answered back shyly, looking down and hiding her eyes again. "Gotta go take a shower," she mumbled.

He relaxed his arm and allowed her to make her way to the bathroom. "Would you like some coffee before you leave," he asked, already putting on his robe and making his way towards the door.

Willow finished her morning routine, which was now quickly becoming her afternoon routine. She hurried down the stairs and breezed into the kitchen feeling clean and strangely relaxed.

Will was sitting at the table, seeming to be deeply engrossed in the sports page of the newspaper. He motioned across the table to her coffee and she sat to drink in a companionable silence. This scene was played out every morning in homes around the world, but for Willow it was a first. The newness and the intimacy of it thrilled and frightened her.

"Got plans for tonight, so be home by 5 or 6," he told her, his eyes meeting hers over the top of the newspaper.

"Okay," she said, wondering what he would do to top last night's outing. She hated to have to ask; it seemed so weak. But she really was curious. Well, only one way to find out, she thought.

"What are we going to do? I mean, so I know how to dress," she added. Yep, Willow, that's the way to make it seem like you don't care, she thought to herself. Jeez, like he wouldn't see right through that ploy.

His lips curved into a smirk behind the paper, knowing that her curiosity had forced her to ask the question. Her curiosity was so very strong, a light that sat in her eyes and sparkled when she thought. "You'll find out at 6 o'clock tonight," he told her playfully, knowing that her eager mind would create scenario after scenario before discarding them all. And where he was taking her tonight was somewhere she'd *never* guess on her own. "Dress casual, maybe a sweater," he added teasingly, giving her a tidbit of information. Like it would do her any good, he thought.

He smiled to himself as he heard the front door shut behind her. There was something relaxing in their casual banter. It filled a place in his life that had been empty for a very long time. When he spent time with her he felt things, feelings that he hadn't experienced since he became a vampire. Whether that was a good thing or a bad thing, he wasn't quite sure. If he didn't know any better, he might think that he was falling for her. But that was impossible. Vampires couldn't love, could they? Passion, lust, obsession, yes, he'd felt those all before. But love?

And if it was love, what did he want to do about it? Love was a weakness for a vampire, and it could turn into a fatal weakness at that. The smartest thing he could do was kill her and move on. Sure, he had promised not to harm her, but nobody could deny the fact that he was an evil demon. Breaking promises was just par for the course.

His other option? As unlikely as it seemed, could she return his feelings? Maybe not now, but in time? He knew he was charming. Seducing women was something he did often and well. He'd had many decades to perfect his technique. But now, when it really mattered, could he do it? Did he want to?

Love her or kill her…the question ran endlessly through his mind as he sat and finished his coffee.

School had been as interesting as always, but keeping her mind on her studies was becoming more and more difficult. Thoughts swirled around her mind like paper in a windstorm. Who was Will? Why was he behaving the way he was? Two nights ago he'd done things to her that made her feel cold and alone. Last night he had been the opposite: the perfect gentleman. Charming, attentive, almost sweet. To say that she was confused was like saying that the Niagara Falls was a little wet.

Could he be starting to care for her? Was that the reason for his sudden turn-about last night? Was last night his way of apologizing for his actions the previous night? Or was this just some sort of twisted game he was playing? Did he think that his victory would be so much sweeter if she came to him of her own free will?

And just how did she feel about him? She acknowledged the fact that her heartbeat quickened every time she thought of him. She couldn't deny that. But was it caused by lust or fear or some other emotion entirely?

And what about love? She couldn't love him. He was a demon. Sure, he was handsome, sexy, fun to be with, sometimes at least. But love? And it had to be love, she refused to settle for anything less. She would do what she had to for the next year, of course, but ultimately she would not be with a man unless she loved him. So what did that mean for them?

"I'm hoooome," Willow called as she walked in the door. She giggled slightly, thinking how odd it was to hear the words in this context. Yet oddly enough, this house felt much more like home than her parents' house ever did. That house had always felt like a stopping place, a rest area, somewhere her parents had to pass through on their way to their ultimate destination. She sighed softly, the sound echoing quietly in the foyer. What would her parents have thought of this arrangement? To say that they would have been disturbed was putting it lightly. She hadn't heard from them in over a week. Last she knew, they were in Russia for a few months, her father a guest teacher at one of the colleges there.

Not receiving a reply to her greeting, she frowned slightly. It was 5:30 and it was already dark outside. Vampires must love this time of the year, she thought, what with the fact that it got dark so early and all. She supposed that Will was out – out doing whatever it was that vampires did in the evening. Her mind shied away from the word 'feeding.' She tried not to think about it. Yes, I'm a coward, she thought to herself. It wasn't like she didn't know what he was doing. And she knew that her bringing it up wouldn't do anything but make him angry. So she stayed quiet, hoping that he'd keep his promise not to hurt anyone she cared about. 'Like Buffy,' her mind reminded her. Buffy, her once-friend but no-longer friend.

By the time she heard Will slip in the front door it was 6pm, and she was dressed in a pair of black jeans and a light, form-fitting turquoise sweater. She had applied a small amount of make-up, just enough to emphasize her green eyes and long ginger lashes.

As she headed back down the stairs, she noticed Will look her over appraisingly. Just what does he see when he looks at me, she wondered. "I'm ready to go when you are," she told him, a nervous smile on her face.

He held the front door open for her, allowing her to slide through it and then locking it quickly, before following her to the car. As soon as Willow was safely belted in and ready to go, Will again held out the black silk blindfold, running the soft fabric through his hands. Willow cringed slightly at the thought of wearing the blindfold again. It made her feel so…so dominated, so controlled.

"No, you don't *have* to. You can let me do this, or we can sit in the car all night. Doesn't matter to me either way, it's up to you."

"But why? Why do you want me to wear this? Is it a power thing? Do you get off on being in control? Because if that's the case, it's really just an illusion. I could take the blindfold off any time I wanted to, you know."

"Maybe I just like the look of surprise in your eyes when you finally open them and see where you are," he teased her, leaning close to whisper the words to her.

She looked up into his eyes and saw several emotions flitting quickly across his face before the usual expressionless mask was firmly in place. Finally she sighed softly and turned away from him, allowing him to tie the blindfold behind her head.

With that, he started the car and headed down the street. Unlike their last trip, this time they were heading into town. Willow noticed that they stopped at several lights and didn't go terribly fast in between them. "How much longer," she asked, slightly impatient.

She reminded him of a child on Christmas morning waiting to open her presents. He looked over and smiled at her. Then he realized that she couldn't see the smile, and laughed softly, both at her and himself. "We're almost there Red. Surely you can sit still for just a moment longer, hmmm?"

His easy banter made him seem more casual, less frightening, so she turned towards him and stuck out her tongue, teasing him. His laughter increased, and she turned back to the front, fuming slightly. Bloody annoying vampire, she thought. Then she noticed her use of the word 'bloody' and had to laugh at herself. Jeez, maybe it's true what they say about people who live together picking up each other's traits, she thought. She certainly would never have used that word prior to meeting Will.

The car stopped and Will turned off the ignition before turning to her and asking, "Ready, luv?"

"I guess so," she told him, still unsure of what to expect. She turned away from him and allowed him to remove the blindfold.

When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was a gigantic clown head. Was this some juvenile attraction, or a childhood nightmare come to life? On the Hellmouth one could never be sure.

Off to her left, Willow saw dozens of children and teenagers running, laughing, playing, chasing. "Miniature golf?" she asked, slightly confused.

"Not for years and years. I'm probably not very good," she confessed, her nose crinkling in frustration.

"Then I'll just have to show you everything I know. I'm quite a good teacher, or so I'm told," he said jokingly, winking at her.

Half of her laughed back at his obvious flirting, while the other half of her wondered darkly what other things he could teach her.

"I don't know how anyone is supposed to enjoy this," Willow complained, frustrated. She placed her ball back onto the tee for the sixth time this hole. Every time she hit the ball it went into the water, without fail. She'd tried hitting it hard. She'd tried hitting it softly. She'd even tried aiming the stupid thing. But the result every time had been the same. And the more aggravated she got, the more Will snickered, making her even angrier.

Damn vampire, she fumed. Who would have thought that he'd know how to play miniature golf? Wasn't he supposed to enjoy killing and torture? Where was the torture in this?

"So sorry you're not enjoying yourself, luv," he replied in mock sympathy. "I'm having the time of my life." Will grinned at her, thinking to himself that her anger made her even more beautiful. Her eyes flashed, her nose crinkled. She was just too appealing, and way too much fun to tease. "Just because you're losing by…well, by a lot, there's no reason to get pissy about it. I offered to help you, didn't I?"

"Yeah, out of the goodness of your heart, you did," she muttered under her breath. "One kiss for every putting tip, indeed."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, evil demon, blah, blah, blah," she said, looking in his direction and rolling her eyes.

"Don't you forget it, little girl," he replied, his tone suddenly serious and menacing.

A chill ran down her back, reminding her that to underestimate him would be a serious mistake. She looked over at him, slightly uneasy.

Will noticed her discomfort and decided to take pity on her. Walking behind her, he pulled her body to his, wrapping his lean arms around hers and covering her hands on the putter with his own. She jumped, surprised.

Leaning into her body, his chin on her shoulder, he whispered in her ear. "Free lesson, luv. After this, it'll cost you."

She gulped, nervous, her body tingling wherever it touched his. She could smell him, the musky scent of him, mixing with the cologne he wore. His skin was cool and smooth. Earth to Willow, her mind called. Concentrate on the game. Mini golf, I mean. That game. The reason you're here.

All around them she could hear the voices of teenagers and families, yet the only thing that seemed real was her flesh pressed against his. Her body softened as his thumb made gentle circles on her wrist. She caught herself starting to moan, but managed to stop before it became audible. She turned her head and looked up at him, pleading silently with her eyes. Pleading for what, she wasn't sure.

"See, you imagine tapping the ball in a straight line; swing the club along that same line, and there you go." His actions suiting his words, together they swung the club in a straight line. To Willow's astonishment, the ball actually went where it was supposed to go. Her eyes lit up, smiling into his, and she wiggled out of his grasp in her excitement.

"Look Will! It did! It went right where I aimed it. And totally water-free!" Her enthusiasm was infectious. Will grinned back at her, eyes shining with laughter.

"You can do it again, luv. Just remember to imagine that straight line and hit the ball along it," he told her encouragingly. She looked at him, her face uncertain.

They walked to the next hole, the one housing the rather frightening clown-head. "I'm going to do this," she muttered to herself. She placed her ball on the tee and looked over at Will. He nodded approvingly. Visualizing the straight line she wanted to follow, she swung the club. It hit the ball right on, landing it only three inches from the hole. Almost jumping in her excitement, Willow ran to Will and spontaneously threw her arms around his neck, giving him a big, happy hug.

Realizing what she had done, she stepped back, embarrassed. "Sorry," she muttered shyly, afraid to look up at him. But nothing could completely dampen her enthusiasm, and she scampered back to her ball, putting it into the hole quickly and easily.

Hole by hole, she continued to improve. Will still won handily, but by the time they were finished, Willow was doing much better. She even managed a hole-in-one on the course with the castle.

Finally, it was time to go home. They had played all three courses, each one harder than the one before. But Willow had to admit, she was having a blast. Will was fun, she realized. When he wasn't trying to prove what a frightening, badass Master Vampire he was, he was really enjoyable to be around.

As they walked back to the car, he put his arm companionably around her shoulder and looked down into her eyes. "So did you have a good time, luv?"

She looked up at him, noting his serious expression. Relaxing into the arm around her shoulder, she sighed in contentment. "Wonderful time," she replied.

Willow's life seemed to be developing into a comfortable pattern: school in the afternoon, evenings spent with Will, and then falling asleep alone and waking up in his arms.

Each evening they did something different and interesting. One night he would take her to a museum, the next night they'd attend a concert. Or a play, or a movie. Sometimes they'd eat out at a fancy restaurant, other evenings they'd stay at home and just talk. Will was a great help to Willow with her school work, and she picked his brain constantly, looking for anything he could remember that would help her when writing those long, boring history papers. With his help and his 'first-hand' observances, her papers became a lot less boring, and her grades stayed high. They were developing an uneasy friendship and were starting to enjoy each other's company, as long as they stayed away from certain subjects, of course. All in all, they were comfortable, if not happy.

The young redhead continued to get together with Anya each week as well. The two had become close, each seeing in the other a friend who would not judge, would only be supportive. And although they were no longer as close as they had once been, Willow looked forward to the time she spent with Giles as well. He still felt like a father to her, and although he was obviously concerned about her 'lifestyle', as he called it, he still made her feel loved and cared for.

Willow was saddened to hear that Xander and Anya had broken up and that Xander was now pursuing Buffy. She knew that Xander had always harbored feelings for the Slayer, but had hoped that he had moved past them when he and Anya had become close. Unfortunately, when things had changed between Willow and Buffy, Xander had been there to 'comfort' Buffy and that comforting had moved on to become something more.

Anya said she never blamed Willow, but Willow blamed herself anyway. If she had never made that deal with Will, things would have been so much different. Anya and Xander would still be together, and she would still have her friends. But instead of beating herself up about lost opportunities and bad choices, Willow was forging ahead and making the best of her situation

Will looked at her over the top of the book he was reading, amused with her antics. They were in the den, Willow sitting in the chair across from him, pretending to read a book. When he looked at the cover, however, the vampire noticed that the book was actually upside-down. Willow squirmed in her chair, turning her body first to the left, then to the right, then back to the left. Her eyes were focused off to the right and seemed to be concentrating on something that he couldn't see.

"Um…huh?" She whipped her head towards him, startled. Her eyes were slightly unfocused, as if she really wasn't giving the matter her full attention.

"You've been wriggling over there like a worm on a hook. What's got you so worked up?"

"Just hyper, I guess." With an effort, she settled back into her seat and again attempted to read her book. Glancing at the pages, she realized she had been holding the book upside-down. With a sigh, she righted the book, took one last look at the page in front of her, and then put it down on the small table next to her.

Suddenly rising, she moved to stand in front of Will, grabbing his book unexpectedly and plopping it down on the arm of his chair. "How come we've never gone dancing," she demanded, earning a bemused look from the blond vampire.

"Milady wants to dance, does she? Fine…next stop Los Angeles. We'll find you a club and you can dance until your feet are bloody stumps."

"Eeewww. So *not* the words I would have chosen. And why do we have to go to Los Angeles? There's a perfectly good club in Sunnydale. You remember the Bronze. The place where you were going to – errr, well, kill me."

"Yes, I remember the place. Dark corners, loud music, lots of underage kids drinking. I also remember that the Slayer hangs out there as well. You sure you want to meet up with the bimbo again?"

"She's not in charge of this town," Willow exclaimed, working herself up into a really good tizzy. "If – if I want to go dancing here, I'm going to go dancing here. I've lived in Sunnydale longer than she has, damn it."

He just stared at her, amazed that so much fire and passion could exist in such a delightful, small package. Finally he laughed, a long, full chuckle.

"You'd better not be laughing at me, vampire," she snapped at him, hands on her hips, looking down at his seated form.

He gave her a smirk, then pushed himself to his feet. The movement caught her off guard, and she had to back away from him or their bodies would have collided.

"Fine, the Bronze it is. Get changed and I'll meet you downstairs in half an hour. Okay?"

"Goodie!" She jumped around in delight before running out of the study and into the bedroom to change.

They entered the Bronze together, his arm draped casually around her shoulder. Her eyes went from table to table, face to face, looking for someone familiar. Satisfied that Buffy and Xander weren't in attendance, she relaxed and smiled, pointing out an open table to Will. They sat down and settled in, Will leaving to order them a couple of drinks.

"Um…hey Willow," she heard a hesitant voice from behind her. She turned to see Xander approaching, his arm around Buffy. He looked happy, she thought, although a little uncomfortable. Buffy looked uncomfortable too, and refused to meet her eyes. Willow thought she knew the source of Buffy's discomfort. The blonde knew that she had had feelings for Xander that went beyond those of simple friendship. She probably figured Willow was pretty angry with her right now. Strangely enough, Willow was happy for the two of them. She knew now that what she had felt for Xander was merely a crush. Sure, it had felt like true love at the time, but now she knew that the two of them were destined for nothing more than friendship. Maybe not even that.

"No, Will is here too. He's getting us some drinks. I'd invite you to join us, but – "

"Sure, we'd love to," Buffy interrupted, swinging around and plopping down in a chair. Xander looked at his girlfriend, surprised and confused by her behavior.

Willow looked at the two of them uneasily, wondering what Buffy could possibly be up to. They sat in silence, the tension between them growing. The redhead glanced uneasily towards Will and was relieved to see him heading back towards their table, drinks in hand. He paused for just a moment as he noticed that they had company, but merely raised his eyebrow slightly as he continued towards them.

"Slayer," he acknowledged, inclining his head towards her as he settled onto the seat next to Willow. "Here's your drink, luv," he added, putting it in front of her. Relieved, Willow took a long, deep drink of something strong, hoping whatever it was would relax her.

The silence stretched again; finally Will broke it. "Well, since nobody seems to want to talk, let's dance, shall we?" He stood up, holding out his hand to Willow. She grasped it gratefully, giving him a nervous smile, and they walked slowly onto the dance floor.

The song was a soft slow ballad, so Willow walked into Will's embrace, placing her arms around his neck. His hands rested lightly on her hips, moving their bodies in time to the music. She looked over his shoulder at their table. Buffy and Xander were sitting there still, her blonde head bent next to his darker one. They seemed to be in deep conversation, Xander trying to tell Buffy something she didn't want to hear, by the look of it.

"Ignore them, Red," Will whispered in her ear. Then she felt his lips on her earlobe, nibbling gently. She sighed softly and her body melted into his. They continued to move together, lost in the music. His body felt so good against hers. So gentle and strong and…and hard. She stepped back uneasily as she felt his growing erection against her stomach.

"Sorry, luv, I can't help it," he whispered, knowing the cause of her action. "My body reacts to you, whether I want it to or not."

"What do you mean, 'why'? Because you're beautiful, sexy and sweet. Because you feel so good when you're in my arms."

"But you've never…well, you've never tried anything. Not after that first night." She hid her face against his chest in embarrassment. "I thought you lost interest, or that I wasn't good."

He groaned in frustration, amazed that they had managed to misread each other so badly. He moved his hand to her chin, lifting her face so that he could look into her beautiful emerald eyes. "That first night was a mistake," he told her. "It should never have gone as far as it did. I was mad at you, but I didn't handle it well."

Willow looked up at him, frustrated, scared, uncertain. He pulled her closer to him again, kissing her softly on her trembling lips. As she groaned and pressed back against him, he trailed kisses down her neck, kissing a path to her bare shoulder. She hid her head in his chest again, and they stood together like that until the song was over, just holding each other.

When the music stopped, Willow looked around, surprised. Her eyes flitted back to their table and noticed that it was now empty. Xander and Buffy must have decided to find their entertainment elsewhere, she thought in relief.

"Let's go home," she said huskily, pulling Will towards the table and collecting their things.

They walked quickly to the car, her hand in his, their footsteps echoing loudly in the empty alley. As they rounded the corner and approached Will's car, Willow gasped in surprise when she saw Buffy sitting on top of the car. She sat comfortably on the edge of the hood, tossing a stake gently from one hand to the other.

"Buffy, what's going on," she asked her former friend uncertainly. Without realizing it, she had taken a step forward, putting her body between Will and the Slayer.

"Just stay away from him, Willow. I'll take care of him and then everything can go back to the way it was."

Willow felt Will tense behind her, getting ready to do battle with the Slayer if need be. "Buffy, I don't need you to fight my battles for me. This is *my* life, and I am living it the way *I* want to live it. And I want to be with Will." As she said the words, she realized that they were true. What she felt towards him was more than a sexual attraction. Somewhere along the way, she had fallen in love with him. The unexpected truth hit her hard. But now wasn't the time to ponder it, she realized. Right now she had to make sure Buffy didn't kill Will, or vice versa.

Buffy was looking at her pityingly, sadness and desperation etched onto her young face. "Willow, I don't know why you're saying what you're saying. I'm sure that whatever threat he's holding over your head is just that, an empty threat. Let me take care of this and everything will fix itself." Buffy reached out a hand to her, sliding down off the car and landing on her feet. "We all miss you. I miss you," she added softly.

"I'm sorry, Buffy," Willow whispered, tears shimmering in her eyes. And she was sorry. She was sorry that Buffy couldn't believe in her, couldn't trust her judgment enough to know that just because Willow was with Will, she could still be a good friend. "I know that things between us are bad. But this was your choice, not mine. And killing Will won't make things better between us. In fact, it will make them so very much worse."

Buffy looked at Willow and saw that she meant every word she said. Tears welled in her eyes. Tears of frustration and anger. She gave her friend one last long, searching look, then turned and ran down the street as fast as her feet would take her. She never looked back.

Willow watched Buffy run until she turned the corner and was out of sight. Then she turned and fell into Will's waiting arms. He held her tightly, running his hand through her hair and whispering soothing words into her ear. As the tension left her body, she relaxed completely and just let him comfort her.

Together they made their way back to the car. He settled her into the passenger seat, and then got behind the wheel. As he started the car, she snuggled in next to him, gently resting her head on his shoulder. It just felt so right to be with him like this, she thought. She knew that they still had a long way to go before things between them were good, and even if things ever were good, the two of them would never be a 'normal' couple. But she wanted to see where these new feelings would lead her.

As Will pulled the car into the driveway, he could hear Willow's gentle, rhythmic breathing next to him. Poor thing, he though, she's had more than a couple big revelations today. No wonder she's so exhausted.

He quietly opened her door and picked her up, carrying her into the house and up the stairs to the bedroom. As he laid her down onto the bed, he realized that she was slowly waking up. Her arms, which had been wound around his neck, weren't letting him go. He talked quietly, so as not to disturb her too much, "Willow, pet, you need to get ready for bed. You don't want to sleep in your clothes." He tried to pull away again, but her arms still held him.

"Don't wanna get ready for bed," she told him, her eyes still closed, words slurred by sleep. "I want you," she whispered. The words were said so quietly that he wasn't even sure she was aware she had said them.

Her arms continued to hold him, trying to pull him closer so their lips could meet in a kiss. He knew he was going to hate himself in the morning, but he also knew that if he didn't put a stop to this now, *she* was going to hate him in the morning too. "Not tonight, luv. You're all upset and you don't know what you're doing. If we do this now, you'll hate me in the morning."

"Won't hate you. Could never hate you," she mumbled as she relaxed, falling back deeper into the relief of sleep.

He stood and watched her, watched the easy rise and fall of her chest. The way that the light glinted off her fiery hair. How her lips curved into a gentle smile as she slept. He sighed, realizing that no matter what the consequences were, he could never hurt her again. He wasn't sure if this was love, but whatever it was, it was stronger than any emotion he'd ever felt before.

Deciding that she probably wasn't going to be changing into a nightgown anytime soon, he took off her shoes and socks, then quickly undid the buttons on her shirt and pants, leaving her dressed just in a bra and panties. That would have to do, he decided. He didn't trust himself to undress her further. He pulled the covers over her then scooted in beside her, falling asleep to the rhythm of her steady breathing.

It was early morning, and Will was involved in what had become one of his favorite pastimes: Willow-watching. He sat against the headboard, gazing at the beautiful young redhead while she slept, her soft skin seeming to glow under his watchful eyes. Her dreams were troubled, as they often were, and she murmured and thrashed under the covers. He reached out, putting a hand to her shoulder, about to shake her awake, when her frightened words caught his attention.

"No, Buffy," she said quietly. "NO!" She moved again, twisting her small body this way and that. "You can't! I love him," she whispered, her lips slightly open, her words slipping out from between them.

Will sat back, stunned. He sucked in a harsh unnecessary breath, his surprise evident in every line of his face. She could only be talking about him, he knew. This must be a dream about their confrontation last night with Buffy. But she loved him? Could he dare to hope that it was true, and not some cruel trick of her subconscious? He knew that she desired him. She had made that clear last night. But love?

Will knew that his own feelings for her were becoming stronger each and every day. He had tried to fight them but with absolutely no success. So what next? Go for that mythical 'happily ever after' ending? That was a crock and he knew it. Fairy-tales and happy endings were what she deserved, but his life was anything but. He could never give her the life she deserved. But every muscle in his body ached with the need to do just that.

Willow moved again, interrupting his thoughts and drawing his attention back to the redheaded beauty. She was waking up, he saw, stretching her slender body and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. Finally she settled on her side, deep green eyes looking up at him.

"Morning," she mumbled uneasily. He had been watching her again. God that made her uncomfortable. Why did he find her so fascinating when she was asleep? Did she drool or something?

Will scooted along the bed, lying down on his side facing her, and staring at her delicate features. "Morning to you too," he answered, his voice serious. He paused for a moment, trying to decide what to say next. "You were having a dream a bit ago," he started.

"No, luv, it wasn't a happy dream. Umm…I think it was about last night. About our run-in with the Slayer."

Willow looked at him, her eyebrows drawn down in a slight frown as bits and pieces of her dream broke the surface of her consciousness. "Buffy had a stake, and – and she was threatening you, again. Just like before," she told him slowly, as she remembered more and more. "I told her she couldn't kill you," Willow said, her face turning a bright red as she remembered what else she had said in her dream.

"You were talking in your sleep, Red. Do you remember what you said," he asked quietly, willing her to say the words to him.

"N – no, I don't remember," she stammered, afraid to say the words out loud. She tried to look away, anywhere but into those stunning cerulean blue eyes. Eyes she was sure would mock her if they knew her secret.

"Yes you do, luv," he told her gently. His hand reached out, cupping her chin and bringing her face up to his, her soft breath warming his lips. "I can see it in your eyes; I can see it in the blush that is spreading over your body. Say it," he demanded, his voice strong and thick with emotion.

She closed her eyes and said the words, "I love you," her voice the barest whisper of a sound. Three little words that turned her world upside-down.

His fingers stroked her cheek gently, trying to offer her comfort. "Open your eyes," he demanded huskily. Her eyes remained closed, the ginger lashes swept down on her cheek. "Willow, open them. Please."

It was the word 'please' that finally convinced her. Slowly her emerald eyes emerged, shining with unshed tears of pain and embarrassment. But when she looked up into his face, instead of the harsh, mocking look she expected, his features were tender and sweet.

"I love you too," he told her, hoping that the tone of his voice and the look on his face would convince her of the truthfulness of his words. He ran his hand through her fiery tresses, over and over, caressing her face and neck with his cool, soft hand.

Her eyes were uncertain. She didn't believe him. It was too soon, he thought. That was okay. He could convince her with deeds, if she wasn't yet ready to believe his words. His lips moved the extra inch towards her, meeting her yielding lips with a soft, tender kiss. Her mouth opened against his, and his tongue entered, caressing her tongue with soft, sweet movements. He explored every bit of her mouth, his tongue trying to memorize her unique flavor. Finally he pulled away with a soft groan, feeling the need to explain his feelings to her.

"I don't know how it happened," he started, mesmerized by her eyes. "And I certainly didn't plan it. I don't know why I suggested our 'arrangement' in the first place, but I think it was meant to punish you. But then slowly, bit by bit, I started to fall. By the time I realized what was happening it was too late. God, I fought against it," he admitted with a humorless laugh. "Imagine, I set this up to punish you, and end up punishing myself even more. I was pathetic."

Hope was beginning to build in her eyes, as her hand reached out to capture his own. She kissed his palm, laying his hand on her cheek, cradling it with her own. "I think maybe Buffy was right all along," she confessed.

"The Slayer? Hell, why bring her into this? Here we were having a nice conversation about – "

She put her fingers against his lips, stilling their movement for the moment. He opened his mouth, capturing her finger and using his tongue to tickle it and his teeth to keep it captive. She smiled, a soft, gentle smile that melted his unbeating heart. God, she was beautiful.

"Shhh. What I meant was, I think Buffy was right when she said I agreed to this 'arrangement' for reasons other than just to help them. She claimed that I accepted your proposal because I had feelings for you. I didn't want to believe it then, but looking back now, I think maybe she was closer to the truth than I wanted to admit. I *did* have feelings for you, even back then, and they've only gotten stronger."

She stopped for a minute, lowering her head again in embarrassment. But Will would not let her get away that easily. Again he brought her eyes back to his own and the encouragement and affection she saw there gave her the strength to continue.

"I thought that if you knew, if you knew how I felt, that either you'd pity me, or you'd take advantage of me. Not – you know, the sex thing. 'Cuz we did that. I mean, you'd try to make me betray my friends."

He had the good grace to look slightly ashamed as he replied. "I don't blame you for thinking that. Hell, that's just the kind of thing I usually would do, if I thought I had a chance. Got my reputation as an evil demon to maintain, you know," he gave her a cocky grin. "But I couldn't do it to you. Never to you," he repeated softly.

Her eyes still contained some doubt and he couldn't blame her. He was asking her to take a lot just on faith. But he'd convince her of his feelings, even if it took him a lifetime.

He set about convincing her of his love the only way he knew how. His mouth swooped down and captured hers in a sweet kiss, his lips teasing hers, his teeth nibbling at her lower lip. As she gasped in pleasure, he pushed his tongue into her mouth, drowning in the wonderful taste that was all Willow. He ran his tongue over her smooth teeth and her gums, tickling and teasing them. His hands wrapped themselves in her soft silky tresses, marveling at the feel and the amazing scent of wildflowers after a summer storm.

Willow ran her hands down his chest, exploring the curves of his body. She had seen it so many times but never had the opportunity to touch it. Now she made up for lost time. Her fingers brushed softly over his nipples, running rings around the taught nubs that sprung up beneath her questing fingers. Then she went lower, tracing every one of his ribs, until she reached his navel. Her fingers flitted around it in a circular pattern until finally she reached his bellybutton, stroking it gently. Will groaned in response to her actions and she felt his erection swell between them.

Gently pushing Willow onto her back, Will slid down her body, coming to rest with his chin on her belly. He licked her bellybutton with his cool tongue, causing Willow to start in surprise. Before she could say anything, his tongue had moved on and was going further down, finally stopping at the entrance to her cunt. He breathed deeply, inhaling and savoring her. Finally, sensing her impatience, he licked her lower lips, flicking his tongue in a random pattern. Sometimes he would lick lightly, teasingly. Other times he would point his tongue and thrust as deeply as he could. Then, when she was relaxed and unsuspecting, he would capture her clit and gently graze it with his teeth. When he did that she would tense, whimpering in pleasure and frustration.

He knew she was ready, but he wanted to be sure that her mind was just as ready as her body. Stopping suddenly, he looked down into her eyes. "Are you sure about this, luv?"

She smiled, one of the most breathtaking smiles he had ever seen. Her eyes were twinkling like a thousand emeralds, love and delight fighting for dominance.

"I'm positive. Positive that if you don't make love to me soon, I'll exploded," she added with a happy giggle.

He smiled back, his brilliant blue eyes shining with the intensity of his feelings. He took his erection in hand and guided it towards her entrance. Finally, feeling that every moment in his life had lead up to this, he entered her slowly, letting her juices ease his way. He looked up as he heard her groan, but the look in her eyes and the smile on her face reassured him that the groans were of a passionate nature and had nothing to do with pain.

Leaning over her, he kissed her again as he slid his cock the rest of the way home. She sighed into his mouth as she felt his full length inside her. Then he pulled back and entered her again and again, setting up a steady rhythm.

Willow felt her orgasm starting to build within her. Her body was responding eagerly to Will's steady thrusts and to the attentions of his hands, which had returned to resume their teasing exploration of her breasts. Finally she was there, and as she plunged over the edge and gave in to her orgasm, she moaned his name.

Hearing her voice call out to him in passion was enough to bring Will along as well. He thrust one last time, holding himself into her as his cock exploded and spilled his seed deep inside her.

Willow awoke the way she did most mornings, to the feeling of her lover's lips on hers. It really wasn't fair that she needed more sleep than he did, she thought. But then again, it certainly *was* a pleasant way to wake up.

"Happy anniversary, luv," the blond vampire told her, immediately sweeping the cobwebs from her mind.

He sighed, looking at her with mock incredulity. "You mean you *forgot* what today was," he teased her. "And they say men are bad about remembering these things! I think you women are giving us a bad reputation solely in order to distract us from your own forgetfulness."

His face turned serious as he grabbed her hands, holding them in his own. "A year ago tonight, we made an agreement. Well, really I forced you into an agreement," he added truthfully. "You promised to stay with me for a year, and now that year is up. I think it's been a pretty good year myself, but now it's over. Your commitment to me is at an end."

Willow looked at him uneasily. What was he getting at? Was he trying to get rid of her? The last year had been the most wonderful of her life and she never wanted it to end. But what was he thinking, she wondered.

Seeing the confusion in her eyes, he plunged ahead before she could speak. "What I'm trying to say is, you're free to make whatever decision you want about your future. You can go free, or you can stay with me."

"Hell yes. Life without you, well, it wasn't worth living. But a year ago, I didn't really give you a choice. Now I want to give you that choice."

He looked deep into her eyes, his hand brushing her fiery hair out of her face. "Willow, will you please stay with me?"

She smiled and his heart lurched inside him. He knew what her answer would be before she even voiced the words. "You are *so* stuck with me. Forever," she told him, and then squealed as he hugged her to him with all his might.

But that nagging word 'forever' taunted him, echoing through his mind. A melancholy look settled on his chiseled features as he released her slender body. "You will leave me though, pet. You'll have to some day, whether you want to or not."

She looked back at him, knowing where this discussion was heading. She told him before that she would not let him turn her. He respected her decision but still wasn't happy about it. "I have a plan," she told him, a mischievous smile on her lips.

"Well luv, what's the plan?" Will sat back against the headboard and pulled Willow up to sit on his lap. She leaned back against his cool chest, grabbing his hands and pulling them around her waist. Then she turned her head and looked up at him and explained her idea.

"You see," she started softly, "there are an infinite number of things in this world that we don't know about. There are demons, vampires, werewolves, and witches, just to name a few. And there are curses and spells to do just about everything that anyone could ever imagine doing. There was even a curse to bring a soul back into a demon," she reminded him.

"As much as I love listening to the sound of your beautiful voice, luv, I just don't see what you're getting at," he told her.

"Okay, here's my idea. There are tons of things and places and curses and ideas out there that we probably don't know about, right? So we chase after them. We travel the world over, looking for anything that will make me immortal. Or at least long-lived. We hunt down every lead, look into every spell, and talk to any demon that has an idea. It might not be easy, and it probably won't be quick, but that's okay, because we have each other and lots of time. And in the end, we'll find what we're looking for, I just know it."

She watched the idea grow in his mind, hoping that he would indulge her in this. She just knew that if they searched long enough, they would find some curse or spell that would let them be together forever. It was out there, just waiting for them to find it.

"I think that there's no other way I'd rather spend the next 20 or 30 years of my life," he told her with a grin.

So search they did, and over the next ten years Willow saw more of the world than she ever knew existed. Then one day, one quiet Thursday in a small town in southern Italy, they found the answers that they were seeking.

A/N: Okay, I know the ending was a terrible cliché, what with all that 'happily every after' stuff, but too bad. I just wanted a happy ending, dammit!

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Bloody Red

by Kallie Rose

Copyright © 2003

kallierose@earthlink.net