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Deceived -- by Ruby
Rating: R
Description: Willow is stunned by a painful betrayal.
Note: Feedback -- Desperately needed. I don't know about this one. I really, really don't.
Disclaimer: Joss owns all.
Willow laid the white rose at the base of the headstone and stood up.
"Two weeks," she whispered to herself as a tear, yet one more to add to the thousands she had already shed, slipped from her eye. She had awakened every morning since that horrible night, hoping to discover it had been a nightmare. Giles had not rung the doorbell just after midnight. He had not sat rigidly across from her and told her in a trembling voice that her best friend was gone. Buffy had not walked into a well-planned trap, to be hopelessly out-numbered, beaten beyond recognition, and left to die alone in this very cemetery.
Willow's eyes returned to the headstone, the name of her friend etched into its surface, cold and hard as the reality it symbolized. The shadows were lengthening, and Willow turned to leave. She walked out of the cemetery and turned the corner to walk back to the apartment she and her friend had so recently shared. She walked in silence, dreading the thought of spending another night surrounded by memories too new to be anything other than painful. She brushed the tears away from her cheeks and reached for the key in her pocket.
"You're wasting them, pet," a voice said from behind her. Willow spun around, her eyes narrowing to angry slits at the sight of the vampire.
"She doesn't deserve your tears," Spike continued. A shriek of fury tore from the redhead's throat, and she lunged at him.
"You bastard!" she shouted as they both tumbled onto the thin strip of lawn between the building and the sidewalk. "You killed her, you son of a bitch!"
Spike was caught off guard by the force of her anger and the strength of the tiny hands that had latched onto his throat. He shoved her off of him and staggered to his feet.
"You can't strangle the undead," he told her. Willow had clawed a small cross from her pocket. She flew at him again, and Spike hissed as the cross made contact with his chest. He swattedher hand and took hold of her wrists as the cross went sailing out into the street.
"Listen to me," he demanded as she struggled furiously against him.
"Damn it, Willow! I'm not going to hurt you."
"You already have," she snarled. "So help me, I'll stake you, even if I have to die in the process."
"Stop it," he shouted. "I didn't kill--"
Willow's teeth fastened onto one of the hands that was holding her, and Spike growled and let go of her wrist.
"Willow," he barked, moving his hands to her arms and shaking her roughly. "She isn't dead. Listen to me! The slayer is _not_ dead."
Willow stopped fighting and glared venomously up at him. "You can't think I'm that stupid," she spat. "We buried her. She's lying in a--"
"You never saw her, did you?" he asked. "Closed casket, right?"
"After what your bastards did to her, there wasn't much choice," she snapped.
"No," he insisted. "She wasn't in it. She isn't dead. I can prove it."
"You really do think I'm a fool," she sneered. "And now I'm supposed to go trotting along after you so you can show me your 'proof?'"
"Did you know that Angel didn't return to L.A. after the funeral?" he asked her abruptly. "Have you paid a visit to the watcher since then?"
"What the hell are you talking about?" she growled.
"They're all there, Willow, at the watcher's home. The slayer, Angel, all your friends. Everyone but you," he told her. "Do you know there's a room above his garage? Did you know the windows of that room have been boarded up for two weeks? There was no attack, not by my boys or anyone else. It's a lie. All of it. Check it out for yourself."
She wrenched herself out of his grasp and stepped back from his reach. "Go to hell," she snarled and turned back to her door.
The vampire made no move to stop her, and she let herself in and slammed the door and locked it. From the window, she watched as Spike turned and left. She dropped down onto an armchair, her mind racing through a dozen questions. Why had he shown up here? Why was he lying? Why did he let her walk away just now? She grabbed up the phone to call Giles, thought better of it, and called for a taxi instead.
Willow crept around the outside of the garage to the flight of stairs at the back of the building. The three windows in the small, upper story had indeed been boarded up, and she could hear faint voices drifting down from the room above her. Willow stepped back into the trees that bordered Giles' property as the door opened. She heard the voices of Oz and Xander as they came out onto the landing at the top of the stairs.
She watched as Oz turned back to the door to say, "I still think we--"
"I know," Buffy said, and Willow's hand flew to her mouth as the slayer's back-lit form appeared in the doorway. "But we have to. You know that, right?"
"I know," Oz replied.
"I'll see you guys tomorrow," Buffy promised before closing the door.
Willow waited until the two men had descended the stairs and walked around the garage before she stepped out of the trees. She followed them from a distance, until they quickly stepped across the street and walked away. She turned in the opposite direction and walked a few paces before Spike appeared out of nowhere to stand in her path. She stopped in front of him, too shocked to be angry or suspicious.
"Why?" she said softly.
The vampire was oddly touched by her pained expression. "Why did they set me up and leave you to grieve alone for a lie?" he asked. "I wish I knew. Help me find out?"
She nodded mutely and stepped around him. Spike waited until she turned back before accepting her unspoken invitation, and they walked in silence back to her apartment.
Willow invited Spike in, and he watched as she sat down on the sofa and lowered her face into her hands. She sat without speaking for several minutes, and he was mildly surprised to find her dry-eyed when she finally raised her head to look over at him.
"How could they be so cruel?" she asked, her voice soft and angry.
"What excuse could they possibly have for letting me thing she was--" She stopped and shook her head as she stood and began pacing.
"They all knew, all of them," she continued. "Why? And why did they drag you into it?"
"I have no idea, pet," he said seriously, and Willow believed him. She turned back to the little table that sat beside the sofa and lifted a framed pictured sitting on it. Xander had taken the photo of Buffy and her the day they moved into the apartment. Willow glared at it, anger replacing all traces of sorrow, and suddenly flung it against the wall. It fell to the floor, the glass shattering into pointed shards, as she dropped to her knees.
"Why?" she repeated. "Why?"
Spike was beside her in two strides. He knelt next to her, and Willow cried hot tears against his chest as he drew his arms around her and tucked her head under his chin.
Willow refused herself any second thoughts as she raised her hand to lift the heavy brass door knocker on the thick, wooden door. It swung open before she had a chance to knock, and Spike ushered her inside with a wave of his hand. His minions scattered quickly as he led the redhead into the sitting room.
"I must be out of my mind," she spoke as Spike gestured for her to sit down.
"We need each other, Willow," he told her. "Like it or not, they set us both up. We have to know why."
"I don't even know where to start looking," she confessed. "All my usual sources of information seem to be involved in this game."
"Leading you to believe your friend was killed at my hands is a bit more than a game," Spike snapped.
"I know," she said softly. His anger dissipated at the tone of her voice. "I could confront them," she suggested. "I could go over there and--"
"Give them a chance to fabricate another lie," he sneered. "What makes you think they'd just blurt out the truth when they've gone this far to deceive you? How could you trust anything they might say?"
"Well, what the hell are we supposed to do?" she shot back.
"Draw her out," he answered.
"What for? She'll lie if I go to her, but she'll tell the truth if she--"
"She will if she has enough reason," he said. "If they only wanted you to think she was dead, they could've chosen any method for her 'demise.' Why throw me into it?"
She looked at him impatiently, "Because you're Sunnydale's best know bastard? How the hell should I know?"
"Look, they accomplished two things with their rotten little scheme. They convinced you she was dead, and they made sure you'd hate me for it."
"You've stated the obvious brilliantly," she said sarcastically. "I think we can safely say, yes, they do want me to think she's dead. And--don't chew on me for this--but I already hated you."
"All right," he scowled. "Why don't you drag your smart little ass over there and sit yourself down to be force-fed more lies? I'll find the truth without you."
Willow sighed and stood up, "I want the truth as badly as you do, but you have to admit, this is just--weird. We're not supposed to be on the same side."
"They threw us togeth--" he stopped speaking as a dawning suspicion crept through his mind.
"What?" she asked, walking over to look at him.
"Maybe they didn't throw us together," he said. "Well, not intentionally, anyway. Maybe they were shooting for the opposite target."
"They wanted to keep us apart? We already were," she argued.
"You wanted to kill me earlier tonight," he reminded her.
"And you're saying that feeling hasn't been mutual since forever? They just gave me a little extra motivation. So what?"
"So, I don't know," he answered. "But it's the only thing I can think of that makes any sense. I wonder what they'd do if they found out their plan backfired. Think that would draw the slayer out of hiding?"
"Either you've skipped about three pages, or your book's written in a different language. Spike, you're not making any sense," she told him.
"None of this makes sense. You can go back to that garage and demand answers and take what they hand you, or we can play their game and beat them at it. You're not a fool. They've just played you for one."
"They're my friends. Whatever their reasons were, they must have been good ones. I'm not going to confront them, and I'm not playing on your side. I'm going to wait. They'll explain it to me when the time is right," she decided.
Spike shook his head, "Fine. Run home and wait for your answers. I'm going to dig out my own. If you change your mind, hunt me down."
"With pleasure," she smirked coldly.
Three days passed, and Willow had to force herself to stay away from Buffy's hiding place. Neither Xander nor Oz had contacted her, except for two brief phone calls to ask if she were okay. Giles wasn't answering his phone, and wasn't returning the calls she left on his machine. Willow's misplaced grief over Buffy's false death was slowly replaced by a deep sadness at being shut out. Whatever they were doing, they were undeniably excluding her, and it hurt.
When the doorbell rang that afternoon, she opened it on Oz and Xander and invited them in, hoping at last to receive an explanation.
Oz released her from a tight hug and looked down at her.
"How are you?" he asked.
"Okay, I guess," she answered. "I've missed you--both of you."
"We thought you could use the time. It's been hard for all of us," Xander spoke softly.
"Yeah," she nodded. "What about Giles? Is he okay? Has the council contacted him about a new slayer?" She caught the brief glance that passed between the two men before Oz answered her.
"He's asked the council to keep her with them for a couple of weeks. I don't think he's ready yet--"
"But what about Sunnydale? We need her here, don't we?" she asked.
"We'll be okay for a few days. We've done it before," Xander told her.
"Giles wants to go after Spike. We thought you might want to be in on it when we dust Buffy's murderer."
Willow turned away from him, trying to hide the pain and confusion at being lied to, yet again. She nodded her consent.
"We're starting at the cemetery," Oz spoke. "At dusk. We'll meet you there." There, not here, Willow thought. No offer of a ride or an escort.
"You know all this?" Willow asked after explaining the plan for the evening.
Spike nodded, "I told you I'd find my own answers. You'll meet at the cemetery, cover the town, and come here if you don't find me anywhere else first. They'll give you a crossbow, point you in my direction, and step back while you attempt to take me out. For some reason, that's important to them. They want you to be the one who dusts me."
"You found out a hell of a lot more than I did," she admitted grimly.
"Why do they want it to be me?"
"I don't know, but they'll only intervene if you're in mortal danger," he told her. Spike watched as she sat, thinking quietly, trying to grasp at unobtainable answers.
"All right," she spoke softly. "All I'm getting is lies piled on lies. We'll play it your way. What do you want me to do?"
Spike talked quietly with the minions as Willow waited nervously across the room. He dismissed them and walked back to her. "They've left the cemetery," he told her.
"Are Buffy and Angel with them?" she asked.
"No. The watcher was, until they discovered you weren't going to show. He's sent your two friends out looking for you. Let's go help them find you," he said.
Willow was slow to get on her feet, and the vampire thought for a moment that she might change her mind.
"Want out?" he offered coldly.
"What if this doesn't work?" she asked.
"You think they'll turn a blind eye?" he replied. "Trust me, pet; the last place they want you to be is with me. That much is obvious." She nodded and stood to follow him out of the house.
"Leave it open," Spike said as Willow reached for the cord on the window blinds. "They'll need a clear view."
He moved to the door and opened it. Stepping just outside, he leaned against the doorjamb as he retrieved a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. Peering into the darkness, he waited silently for the first sound to alert him to the approach of Willow's friends. It was only a few minutes before their quiet voices drifted to him from the street.
He tossed the cigarette into the yard and stepped back inside, closing the door behind him. He positioned himself in front of the window and held out a hand to Willow.
She took a breath and went to him, and he folded his arms around her rigid body.
"You're enjoying every minute of this," she accused him as he pressed her closer to him.
"Damn right," he grinned and moved his hand to the back of her head to tilt it up to him. Willow shivered as he brought his mouth to hers, and she jumped as his cold lips pressed against hers.
Spike drew back slightly, "Come on, Willow. Are you in the game or not?"
"I'm in," she answered.
He smiled and stepped back into her, recapturing her mouth and forcing her lips apart. He drove his tongue inside, and Willow tensed at the intrusion. He chuckled and held her tighter, his hand holding her head still as he explored her mouth with abandon.
"That the best you can do?" he asked mockingly against her lips.
The anger and confusion that had been tumbling over one another in the redhead's brain for days suddenly overwhelmed her again and demanded release.
"Shut up," she snarled and renewed the kiss.
Her tongue delved into the coolness of his mouth and tasted him ravenously. Spike's hand moved down her back, and he crushed her against him, daring her to take what she wanted.
From outside the apartment, Xander and Oz turned toward Willow's front door. Oz was the first to be drawn to the sight behind the window, and his hand clamped down on Xander's shoulder. They stared in shocked horror at the vision of Willow in Spike's arms.
"What the hell is he doing to her?" Xander hissed angrily.
"Whatever it is, she's giving as good as she's getting," Oz murmured. They watched as Spike's mouth left Willow's, and he pulled her close to him, one hand playing through her rich, red tresses, while the other rubbed gently along the rounded skin of her ass.
"We have to get Buffy," Xander breathed.
Oz nodded and turned away from the window. From inside, Spike could just make out the faint sound of their observer's retreating footsteps.
"They've gone," he spoke against Willow's hair.
She nodded against his chest and found herself strangely reluctant to move out of his embrace. The days of grief, anger, and isolated loneliness had found a false comfort in the strength of the vampire's arms. She mentally shook herself, remembering who she was with and why. She stepped away from him, never noticing the brief flicker of regret that passed through Spike's eyes.
"So, now what?" she asked, forcing an even tone into her voice.
"Now, I leave, and you wait," he answered.
Giles' phone call didn't come until the next morning, and Willow dropped her newspaper and reached across the kitchen table to the phone hanging on the wall. He asked her to meet him at a small diner near the campus, and she agreed to be there at noon.
"Where were you last night?" Giles asked. "Xander said you never arrived at the cemetery."
She swallowed a sip of coffee and forced her eyes to meet his. She'd never been a skilled liar, but too much was riding on this conversation. So, lie she would.
"I couldn't do it," she answered. "I couldn't face it all over again."
"Willow, Spike killed her. Buffy's blood is on his hands as surely as it is on the hands of the minions he sent to murder her."
"I can't deal with this, Giles. I just can't. If you're convinced Spike is behind this, hunt him down and stake him. You don't need me to--"
"Of course we do," he interrupted. "Buffy was dear to all of us. I know what you're feeling but--"
"How could you possibly know what I feel?" she snapped, her anger rising through her words like the steam rising from her coffee. "This is the first time you've spoken to me since the funeral."
Giles looked sincerely hurt, and Willow steeled herself against the compassion that rose to soothe away his pain. He had lied to her, was lying to her still.
"I know, and I'm sorry. We just thought it would be kinder to give you some time to work through your grief," he told her.
The weakness of his excuse drowned out the sincerity with which it was delivered, and Willow stared back at him angrily.
"You thought it would be kinder to leave me alone? Are Oz and Xander dealing with it alone? Are you?" she asked.
"Apart from meeting to try to find Spike, yes," he answered calmly.
She felt as thought she'd been slapped across the face. Why the hell is he doing this, she wondered silently. Why did he persist in lying? "Then you deal with it as you need to, and I'll do the same," she replied coldly.
"I'm concerned about you," he told her.
"It's a little late for that," she replied. "Stay away from me, and I'll return the favor."
She slammed back her chair, threw two dollars on the table, and walked out of the diner.
The sun had just set as Willow pounded on the door and glared at the minion who opened it. He grinned at her cruelly, his eyes raking over her body.
"Where's Spike?" she demanded, brushing past him.
The vampire stepped close to her and put his hand on her waist. Willow spun around and threw herself at him, sending him reeling off balance and onto the floor.
"Where is he?" she growled.
"Right here, pet," Spike answered from the entryway to her left. He looked down at the minion who was glaring up at Willow with hatred.
"Go get something to eat," Spike ordered firmly, shaking his head in disgust. Willow moved past Spike and into the sitting room, turning to him as he followed behind her.
"I take it you weren't treated to any stunning confessions," he spoke.
"Lies," she fumed. "If I hear any more lies from their mouths, I'm going to rip their tongues out."
"Could be worth watching," he nodded. "Are you telling me the watcher said nothing?"
"Less than nothing. No Buffy, no peering through apartment windows, nothing. The only thing I heard was how much they need me to come after your ass, and how hard it's been for all of them. Giles even wants me to believe that none of them have been together since the funeral."
"What the hell are they playing at?" Spike asked, as confused as she.
"I'm done playing," she told him. "I'm going over there. I want answers, and I'm going to get them."
"Okay," he said softly.
She looked up at him, as puzzled by their unlikely association as she was with everything else. But she was tired, so tired of being manipulated and left alone. She stepped over to him, her eyes fixed on his, and put a hand on his arm.
"Go with me," she asked.
He looked down at the hurt and desperation mirrored in her eyes and felt drawn to help her. He knew what it was to have a world torn away, to be left with only betrayal and anger, and a protective voice inside him wondered how much more this small woman could take. He brought his hand to her cheek and brushed it lightly with his fingers as he nodded his consent.
The room above the garage was silent. No voices could be heard coming from inside, and no light peeked from under the door. Willow looked up at Spike.
"They're gone," she spoke quietly.
"Maybe not," he suggested and took her hand to lead her back down the stairs.
They walked around to the back of the house to the door that led from Giles' study out onto the back yard. A gentle breeze fluttered the leaves on the trees, and the watcher had opened a window to take advantage of the fresh air.
The voices of Willow's friends could be clearly heard from inside, and Willow went to the door and put her hand on the knob. Spike's hand covered hers, and she looked back at him. He put a finger to her lips and pulled her back over beside the open window. He heard Willow's heart quicken at the sound of the slayer's voice, and he squeezed her hand reassuringly.
"You couldn't have known this would happen," Buffy was saying. "Xander, are you sure of what you saw?"
"I know a lip lock when I see one," he answered. "That bastard's hands were all over her, and she wasn't objecting."
"And choosing not to go the cemetery last night was an explicit refusal to help us," Giles' voice added. "Spike must have convinced her that he wasn't responsible for your death."
"And she'd believe him? Over us?," Buffy's voice dripped with disbelief.
In the darkness, Spike saw the flame of fury that licked behind the redhead's eyes, and he put his arm around her shoulder to quiet her anger.
"Well, we are the ones lying to her, after all," Angel spoke from inside.
"But she doesn't know that! Her first reaction should have been to trust us, not him," the slayer argued.
"I thought this was all about keeping those two apart. We seem to have screwed that up amazingly well," Xander said.
"We should have just told her the truth," Angel responded.
"And risk Spike finding out?" Buffy asked. "He'd tear Sunnydale apart to get to Willow if he knew."
"They're already together," Oz spoke. "Maybe he already knows."
"I don't think so," Giles said. "We've kept this strictly between us. We have to find a way to bring her back to us. She has to choose to destroy him. We can't force it on her."
"Why don't we just do it for her? Problem solved," Xander suggested.
"Problem not solved. Willow has to be the one to do it. You heard the prophecy."
Willow's eyes flew to Spike's, and he looked back at her, his gaze filled with the same questions as hers.
"The less said about the prophecy, the better," the watcher advised them. "She can't know about it. We can't use it to persuade her. We have to bring her around to our side. Angel, can you pull together some sort of evidence? Something damning enough to convince Willow that Spike killed Buffy?"
Silence permeated the room as the vampire considered the request. "An eye witness," he finally spoke. "I could get to one or two of his boys and force them to help us. That might convince her."
"All right," Giles agreed. "But we must move quickly. I'm afraid we've expended so much effort at keeping Buffy out of Willow's view that we've inadvertently alienated her in the process. We have to get her away from Spike as soon as possible."
"This whole set-up has been about some damned prophecy?" Spike grumbled as he threw himself into a chair.
"To get me angry enough to kill you," Willow nodded. "Why me, though? Why couldn't I know about the prophecy? Why couldn't they just have said, 'Hey, Willow, go stake Spike?'"
He looked over at her, "And that would have worked?"
"No," she admitted. "But neither did their lies."
"Only because I found out they were lying," he told her.
"Okay, so far, we've got a prophecy that I can't know about--which I already do. I wonder if that changes things," she said.
"Possibly," he replied. "In which case, all their plotting has been for nothing."
"Their first priority is to convince me to kill you. The idea that I'm with you now has them scared for more than the obvious reasons," she said. "What could possibly be so good--from your perspective, I mean--that you'd tear Sunnydale apart to get to me?"
His eyes swept over her trim body, and he grinned salaciously, "I can think of several answers to that one, pet." He chuckled as Willow's cheeks turned red. She gathered her composure and looked him in the eye.
"Whatever it is, it can't be good if you'd want it that desperately," she stated.
"Who planted the idea in your mind that a man would have to be desperate to want you?" he asked.
"That isn't the point!" she argued. "If it's something you'd want to happen, I'm sure it's something that would make me miserable."
He moved from the chair to where she was standing. "You think so?" he asked softly. "Don't be so sure."
"Why not? Whatever it is that the prophecy foretells, it's bad enough that they want me to kill you to prevent it from happening."
"You know I'm not going to let that happen," he told her.
"I know," she nodded.
"So," he grinned. "Why not let me shag you instead?"
"Spike!" she gasped.
He laughed and reached out for her before she could step away. "Look, pet, whatever this is about, it centers around you and me--exclusively. You have to be the one to kill me, or we have to be together to make--whatever it is--happen. Aren't you curious about what would happen if we were together, really together?" he asked.
"Not if it's something horrible," she replied, then blushed as she realized what she'd said. "I mean, no! No, I'm not curious. At all."
"I thought you were sick of lies," he admonished her, lifting her face to look into her eyes. "You don't have any idea of what might happen because they've kept you in the dark. Let's find out, Willow. Let's test their prophecy."
"No," she shook her head. "We can't."
"Yes, we can," he insisted, pulling her close and pinning her inside his arms. "I know I'm the bad guy, Willow. We've never been on the same side of anything. But I'm not the one who's lied to you for weeks. Whatever their motives, they've treated you with a cold cruelty that I doubt you've ever been subjected to by me. They broke your heart for the sole purpose of getting you to destroy me."
"They--they felt they had to," she said uncertainly.
"Let's pretend that I never learned their wretched little secret. Let's pretend you'd swallowed their lies and come after me. All pride aside here, who do you think would have gone down--you or me?" She looked up at him.
"Would they have let me kill you, when it came to that? Because we both know it would have. Would they have sacrificed you to the prophecy? I'm assuming your death would have served the same purpose as mine--the prophecy would have been ended. Would they have sent you to your death to accomplish that?"
"I don't know," she answered truthfully. "I want with all my heart to believe that they wouldn't, but I don't know. They've already gone so far." Her voice was so laden with utter distress, it tugged at the vampire's unbeating heart.
"What could possibly be so terrible that they felt they had to put you through this kind of betrayal just to avoid it?" he asked her as his fingers drifted through her hair. "They've pushed us together, Willow. Let's find out where it leads. Last night, at your place, that wasn't so bad, was it?"
She lowered her eyes in embarrassment, "I--"
"You what?" he asked softly. She nibbled nervously at her bottom lip, and he placed his thumb against it and traced its outline.
"Let me do that," he offered.
He brought her mouth to his and nipped at her lip. Willow's hands clutched at his shoulders as his tongue entered her mouth in search of hers. His cold hands moved under her sweater and pressed against her warm back before moving higher to sweep the garment over her head. He brought her mouth back to his as he unclasped her bra and let it drop to the floor. Willow shivered as his hand cupped her right breast and worried the nipple with his thumb until it hardened into a rigid nub. He drew his arms around her, and she leaned heavily against him. He caressed her soft skin with gentle hands, soothing away the sorrow and pain of the past weeks. Spike lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bedroom, leaving the lies and the prophecies and the vague mists of warning behind them.
Willow awoke in the velvet darkness of Spike's bedroom. A deliciously subtle ache throbbed within her after the ravishing she had received three hours ago. She grinned and rolled close to Spike. She had met his passion with equal intensity, and though his vampiric body might not ache as hers did, she thought she might, at least, have left him aching for more. She raised herself up on one elbow and studied the lines of his hard, bare chest. The momentary feeling that she was staring at a literal example of "dead to the world," made her giggle softly. She placed a gentle kiss on his lips and crawled off the bed. She grabbed up her jeans and Spike's shirt, dressed quickly, and left the house.
The sun had just risen, and the pink glow of the sky and the quiet chattering of the birds brought her back with a thud to the situation at hand. She glanced at her watch and wondered if Giles would be awake at a quarter past six. She cut across town and was at his back door in less than fifteen minutes. She listened for any sign of movement from inside the house, and hearing nothing, she tried the door, only to find it locked. The window, however, had been left open, and Willow looked around for something on which she could stand.
Dragging a heavy wrought iron chair from the lawn, she stood on it and pushed the window up as far as it would go. She lifted herself up and crawled through, landing noiselessly on the carpeted floor of the study. Giles had felt no need to hide his detailed notes concerning the prophecy and so had left them spread out across the top of his desk.
Without the least hesitation or feeling of guilt, Willow plopped down in the watcher's leather chair and began to read through them carefully. Her heart pounded as the prophecy's meaning became clear. She leaned back against the chair and closed her eyes as her mind processed the information.
Willow bolted out of the chair at the sudden sound of Giles' heavy footsteps coming from the room above her. She flew to the window and scrambled outside, taking time to pull the window down to its former position and drag the chair back in its place before she raced around the side of the house and down the street.
Willow threw open the front door and slammed it behind her, took the stairs three at a time, and skidded into Spike's bedroom door. She flung it open and jumped onto the bed, straddling the sleeping vampire. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she jostled him violently.
"Spike, wake up!" she demanded. He snarled lightly and tried to throw her off him. Willow clutched him more firmly and dug her nails into his flesh.
"Spike!" she shouted. "Wake up, damn it!"
"Willow," he grumbled. "What the hell's wrong with you?"
"The prophecy, Spike! I found out the prophecy. Wake up, you bloodless moron!"
Willow tumbled backwards as Spike shoved himself into a sitting position. He grabbed at her arms and tugged her back to him.
"Pet, what are you prattling on about?" he growled sleepily. "Get the hell off me and let me sleep."
The redhead blew out a breath of frustration and brought her hands to his cheeks.
"Are you in there?" she asked angrily. "I'm trying to tell you I know about the prophecy--all of it!"
Spike came fully awake as her words sunk into his brain. He put his hands over hers and drew them away from his face.
"How did you find out?" he asked. "Did they tell you?"
"No. I snuck into Giles' house and--"
"You did what?" he snapped. "Are you out of your bloody mind?"
"Probably," she nodded. "Do you want to hear or not?"
He settled her back so she was straddling him once again and pulled her forward until her breasts were brushing against his chest. "I'm listening," he told her.
"Finally," she sighed. "Okay, you know that I restored Angel's soul and got him out of hell, right?"
"And rid us all of Angelus, the prick. Yeah, I know," he answered.
"Well, some benevolent and powerful demon--I didn't know demons could be benevolent, did you? And I don't remember who he was--"
"And it doesn't matter," he said, attempting to thwart an onslaught of Willow-babble. "Go on."
"Right. Well anyway, the prophecy grants me the ability to transform one other demon--Angelus' childe," she said. "That would be you."
"I got that, luv," he replied. "Go on."
"I could choose to stake you, and the prophecy would end there, but I'd have to stake you willingly, which is partly why Giles and Buffy and the guys were trying so hard to get me to hate you," she explained. He waited for her to continue, which she did not. He laughed softly and placed a kiss on her lips.
"Sweetheart, calm down. You haven't told me what the prophecy is yet," he told her.
She blushed and smiled sheepishly at him, "Oh, yeah. The prophecy says that if I come to you willingly, and the two of us join, you know, like we did last night, and if you feed from me--which is kind of the part I'm not liking so much--"
"Willow! Stop!" he spoke firmly. She looked at him in surprise.
"Now, slow down, and speak in sentences of ten words or less," he suggested.
She looked at him apologetically, "I'm sorry. I'm just kind of dazed, and I babble when I get kind of dazed."
"Obviously," he chuckled. "Take your time and explain it to me so I can understand what the hell you're saying."
"And keep to the point," she added. "Right. Okay. If I come to you willingly and if we--"
"Get horizontal," he interjected.
"Yes, thank you. And if I let you feed from me, then the prophecy says that a part of me will pass into you. For a brief moment, you will regain your mortality."
"Why would I want to?" he asked seriously.
"Because the prophecy states that when my mortality passes into you, the result will be absolute immortality."
"I'm already immortal, ducks," he pointed out.
"No, you'll become _absolutely_ immortal. Stakes, holy water, crosses, the sun--nothing will harm you," she explained.
He stared at her in disbelief, "Are you sure you read that right? _Nothing_ would be able to destroy me?"
"I'm positive. Once you achieved an absolutely immortal state, the only thing that could alter it would be for you to hurt me. As long as you--care for me--"
"Love you," he corrected softly.
"Um, yeah," she agreed shyly. "As long as you--loved me--and never harmed me, the prophecy would remain unaltered."
"I'd have to love you for eternity? That doesn't seem so very difficult," he smiled.
"There's--there's more," she admitted hesitantly.
"Tell me," he asked, caressing her back softly.
"If you ever harmed me, you'd lose your absolute immortality, but if I ever consented to let you turn me, and you did, I'd become like you. The prophecy would be sealed, and nothing could ever reverse it--for either of us."
She fell silent and watched him closely as he let all that she'd told him sink into his brain.
"Absolute, irreversible immortality--for both of us. That's a hell of a prophecy, luv," he finally spoke.
"It is," she nodded. "Now I know why they were so desperate to convince me to kill you. I almost can't blame them for hurting me so badly."
"I can," he told her.
She smiled softly and traced his jawline with her finger. "And I understand now why they said you would have torn Sunnydale apart to get to me if you had known," she continued.
"You know," he said, pulling her fully against him and placing a kiss on her forehead. "Your friends actually did me a favor by lying to you. You would never have believed I'd have chased you down without that prophecy. But I didn't know about it, did I? And I chased you down, anyway."
She pulled away and grinned at him, "I don't remember running very fast. I understand--to some degree, anyway--why they betrayed me like they did, but I thought I'd lost everything that mattered to me. I thought Buffy was dead, and everyone else has been making a point of avoiding me. You threw the truth in my face that night outside my apartment. And then I gave them every opportunity to tell me what was really going on. But they didn't. They made up more lies to cover the ones they'd already told me. You were the only one willing to help me, Spike. That's really backwards, isn't it? I had to turn to my enemy because my friends chose to shut me out."
Spike's eyes filled with pain as he spoke, "I'm not your enemy, Willow."
"Not now," she nodded. "But you were, at the start. I know your reasons for helping me were selfish at the beginning, but I don't believe they stayed that way. Last night wasn't about being selfish. Choosing to help me tear away the lies instead of just dragging Buffy out in the open wasn't about being selfish. You helped me Spike. You helped me because you knew I needed help. That means everything to me."
She leaned into him and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. His fingers curled through her hair, and he deepened the kiss, lowering her beside him on the bed.
"When this whole thing started," he said softly. "I was after one thing--getting at the slayer for fabricating the lie that I'd killed her. And I didn't care who I had to go through to do it, including you. That night, in your apartment, right after you learned that the slayer was alive. You sat down on the sofa and buried your head in your hands. Remember that?"
"Yeah," she answered.
"And when you looked back up at me, there were no tears, no hysteria, just calm, cool determination. Your world was being pulled apart by all the people who were supposed to care about you, and instead of crumbling, you dragged yourself up off your knees and went storming after the truth. I knew, from that moment, that I'd shake hell to its foundation if that's what it would take to get that truth for you. Everything went from being about me to being about you. And it still is, prophecy or no prophecy. If you never let me feed from you, if you never let me turn you, it will still always be about you."
"No," she responded. "Not about me. About us."
"Okay, about us," he smiled. "So, tell me, pet. What do we do now? What do you want to do now that we know everything?"
"I want to confront them. I want the lies to be over, and the only way to get that is for me put an end to this, because I don't think they ever will. Not as long as they believe they can turn me against you. Will you go with me, tonight?"
"You know I will," he answered.
"Thank you," she whispered. "Tonight's a lot of hours away. I should let you go back to sleep now."
"Like hell," he replied as he wrapped an arm around her and dragged her body under his.
"They're all in there, luv," Spike said as voices that were inaudible to the redhead's ears drifted clearly to Spike's from inside the watcher's house.
"Good," she nodded, trying to still her trembling hands. Spike raised one of those hands to his lips and kissed it.
"You can go in there, but I can't," he reminded her.
"Then let's get them out here," she suggested and leaned down to pick up a stone near Giles' driveway.
She hurled the small rock through the glass pane in the front door. "I definitely like this side of you," Spike laughed.
The door flew open, and Buffy stepped out onto the porch. Giles, Angel, Xander, and Oz all appeared directly behind her.
"You move amazingly fast, for a corpse," Willow spoke as she stepped forward into the light pooling on the grass from the porch light.
"Willow! Oh no," the slayer moaned.
"Oh, yes. And look, I brought company," she replied as Spike moved up behind her. "You two should have lots to talk about now, since he's only slightly less alive than you are."
"Willow, I can explain this," Giles spoke.
"No need. I found out for myself," she informed him.
The group moved as one from the porch to the lawn. "Found out what?" Angel asked.
"Oh, you know, prophecies, immortality, stuff like that," she answered casually.
Giles stared at her, "How did you--"
"You ought to lock your windows. You never know what might crawl through them," she said. "So, I've saved you the effort of having to weave together another quick lie. I know all of it. I've known about Buffy for days, now. Truth sometimes comes from the most unexpected sources, don't you think?"
She leaned back against Spike as he put his arms around her. No one spoke for several minutes as the gang gawked at the sight before them.
"Goddess, they can't talk if we take away their lies," Willow said to Spike.
"He hasn't fed from you, has he?" Buffy asked anxiously.
"Nope." Willow watched as the slayer relaxed, then added, "Not yet. We did the other part, though."
"What other part?" Xander heard himself ask before his brain could shut his mouth.
"The part that involves nudity and--"
"I got it!" he interrupted quickly.
"Willow, listen to me," Angel said. "You don't want to do this."
"You seem to know an awful lot about what I don't want," she snapped.
"I don't want to know my best friend is alive. I don't want to be trusted. I don't want the truth--"
"We couldn't tell you," Giles explained. "The prophecy said--"
Willow rolled her eyes impatiently, "I know what it says. I know you weren't supposed to tell me. Did it ever occur to you to just come andtell me you needed my help? Did you ever consider simply explaining that you couldn't tell me everything, that you just needed me trust you and help you? That would have been a hell of a lot kinder than telling me Spike had killed Buffy!"
Buffy moaned and reached out to her friend, "We just thought--"
"You thought what?" Willow snarled. "That I couldn't handle a request like that? That I couldn't be trusted to help you blindly? That I was too stupid to figure out what was really going on? What exactly did you think?"
She watched as they exchanged uncomfortable glances. "It doesn't really matter now, anyway," the redhead continued. "I have Spike, now, and the prophecy."
"The prophecy is void now that you know about it," the watcher told her.
Willow tensed in Spike's arms as she glared contemptuously at the man. "More lies!" she shouted. "You just can't quit, can you? The prophecy is only void if you use it to get me to help you. You didn't use it. I _found_ it, with no assistance from any of you. In fact, you did everything you could to keep me from it. The prophecy stands."
"Is she right?" Oz asked.
"She's right," Giles nodded.
"I'm not a fool. I've spent enough nights doing research for you to have learned how to pick out the finer details of prophecies. You should have had more faith in me, but you didn't. What I choose to do now is entirely out of your hands," Willow said.
"You're angry, Willow, and I don't blame you, but stop and think before you make any decisions. You've placed yourself in grave danger by telling Spike about this," Giles warned her. "He won't pass up the opportunity for absolute immortality."
"He would if I asked him to," she stated with certainty.
"You can't trust him," Buffy argued.
"What the hell are you talking about? He's the only one who's been truthful with me. You had so little confidence in me, you convinced yourselves the only way to deal with this was to deceive me."
"We were trying to keep you from getting hurt. We were afraid for you."
Willow shook her head, "It doesn't work like that. You should have started with that explanation when you first found the prophecy. You can't back up and start over again. Can you understand the grief and the isolation you all put me through? If Spike hadn't dug out the truth from that empty casket and shoved its stench under my nose, I'd still be alone and hurting. Justify that to me, Buffy. Explain how it was all right to put me through that kind of torture for the sake of a damned prophecy."
Willow's small body was shaking with rage and frustration, and Spike nestled her closer to him. "Easy, pet," he whispered softly. "You're not alone now."
She let him hold her quietly for a moment, and he could almost feel her reaching down inside herself and dredging out a strength that amazed him. When she continued speaking, her voice was calm and determined. "I'll decide for myself what to do. You're out of this," she told them.
"We shouldn't be on opposite sides," Buffy's voice cracked with sadness.
Willow nodded, "I never thought we would be. I didn't put myself where I am now. I was shoved here. Deal with it."
"You're not all right with this, are you?" Willow asked as Spike's arm moved across his darkened bed to capture her around the waist.
"No, I'm not," he admitted. "They're not going to let go of this, Willow. We both know the last thing they want is for that prophecy to be fulfilled. They may still care about you, but there's no way they're going to stand back and allow me absolute immortality."
"They can't stop me," she argued.
"They can stop me. You won't stake me, but the slayer will."
"She won't do that," Willow answered.
"Pet, with me out of the way and the prophecy rendered useless, they'd have the rest of their lives to bring you back to their side. You'd be alone again, and they'd use that to worm their way back into your heart."
"I wouldn't let them," she promised.
"But I'd still be ashes," he responded. "And we'd still be apart--forever."
"I don't think I could bear that," she whispered.
"I'm not trying to push you into this," he said, and then grinned. "Okay, I am, a bit. But what I'm really saying is that they're not going to give you time to decide what to do. By the time you've decided, it may be too late."
"She won't stake you, trust me," Willow insisted.
"What makes you so certain?" he asked, and when she hesitated to answer, he turned her face to his. "Willow, what are you not telling me?"
"Nothing--much," she answered and pulled his mouth down to hers.
He pulled away from her, cupping her chin in his hand, "Tell me, Willow."
She sighed and nodded, "Okay. The prophecy states that I have to be the one to kill you, and that I have to do it of my own free will."
"Yes, I know that. But what's the difference, really? No matter who stakes me, the result is the same. Isn't it?"
She looked away from him, "Not--not exactly."
"What happens if somebody else destroys me?" he demanded. "Damn it, Willow, tell me."
"If anyone else destroys you, I'll be instantly immortalized. Only, I'll spend my immortal existence in hell," she answered softly.
Spike sat bolt upright, dragging her up with him, "What? Bloody hell, does the slayer know that?"
"Of course she does," Willow said, gripping his arm. "That's the whole point. No one who cares for me will dare come after you. It has to be me."
Willow groaned as Spike pulled her painfully against him, crushing the air out of her lungs. "What if it's someone else, then? Someone who doesn't care about you? An eternity in hell--Willow, that can't happen to you. Not ever," he moaned.
She put her arms around him and rained soft kisses on his face.
"Baby, let's end this. Please," he implored her.
She smiled softly and pushed him back onto the bed. He pulled her down with him. His hands drifted over her back and ground her against him, and Willow moaned as she felt him harden under her. She straddled him and guided him into her sex. Spike hissed softly as her walls stretched to receive him and then constricted to sheathe him in her wet, throbbing warmth.
He flipped her under him and thrust into her. Their bodies moved perfectly together, claiming one another, as their mouths and hands moved over each other. A single, breathless sigh issued from Willow's lips, and Spike increased the depth and pace of his thrusts. She arched into him, baring her neck as she came, milking his own violent release from his body. She whispered his name, and he snarled softly and pierced her throat with his fangs. Willow held him to her, her fingers buried in his hair, as he drank from her.
He dropped down beside her and curled her close to him, needing to feel her beside him, in his arms. Willow rested her head against his chest, rubbing her hand lazily along his cool flesh. She gasped at the sudden, faint sound of his heart drumming beneath her ear, and a surge of warmth spread through his body. It lasted only a moment, but she had felt it and heard it. She looked up at him, her eyes wide, her lips parted.
"Spike?" she asked.
"I know," he answered, lying very still beside her, waiting to see if the strange sensation had truly passed.
His heart had returned to its silent rest, and the familiar coolness had returned to his body.
"The prophecy," she uttered.
"Let's finish it, Willow," Spike whispered. "Absolute immortality will be nothing more than everlasting hell if I ever lose you. I love you. Let me bring you with me."
Her reply was the softest of whispers, "Yes." She pulled his mouth to hers in a long, hard kiss. Spike brushed her hair away from her neck and kissed the small wounds he had placed there. Willow's hand moved to Spike's shoulder as his fangs grazed over her throat. He drank from her until her hand weakened and dropped away from him.
Dragging his thumbnail across his chest, he raised her mouth to the bleeding gash and cradled her against him. His blood trickled past her lips, and he stroked her hair as she suckled weakly for several moments. Spike laid back against the pillows. He settled her against him and folded his arms around her as Willow's mortality surrendered itself to their eternal bond.
Spike closed the door in the minion's face as Willow stirred on the bed behind him. She reached up for him, and he sat down beside her and pulled her into his arms.
"I love you," he whispered.
"I love you," she answered before pulling back to glance over at the closed door. "Is anything wrong?"
"The slayer and her band of idiots are on their way here," he told her.
"She can't hurt you now," Willow said.
"She can't hurt either of us," he smiled and brushed his lips over hers. "Shall we go greet out guests?"
She nodded and moved off the bed to scoop her clothes off the floor and dress quickly. Spike put out his hand to her, and she curled hers around it as they walked from the room together. They stepped off the bottom stair as the front door flew open, and Buffy marched into the room, followed by Angel and Giles. The dark vampire's eyes immediately settled on Willow. Her pale face, the silky curtain of fiery hair, the crimson lips curled into a gentle smile, were altogether mesmerizing and enticingly beautiful.
"We're too late," Angel murmured to himself.
Buffy's head snapped back to him, "No! We can't be!"
His eyes remained fixed on Willow, and Buffy turned back to find herself looking into the amber eyes of Willow's demonic face. Giles swallowed hard and put a hand on his slayer's shoulder. Buffy growled angrily and grabbed a stake from her pocket. One hand latched onto Willow and wrenched her away from Spike as the other plunged the stake into the vampire's chest.
Willow's eyes widened, and Buffy's blood turned to ice as Spike's eyes traveled from the stake protruding from his chest, up to the slayer, and back down to the stake. He curled a hand around it and tugged it out of his flesh.
"Now, that was cool," he grinned as he waggled the stake in front of the slayer. "You don't mind if I keep this, do you?"
He looked over at Willow, who had resumed her human features, and they shared a smile as he reached out and pulled her back to him. He placed a kiss on her neck and looked over at the slayer.
"Do you know, I could snap your bloody neck, and there wouldn't be a hell of a lot you could do to stop me?" he asked her.
"I may not be able to destroy you, but I sure as hell can fight you off," she snarled.
"No matter. I don't really want you dead, anyway. Not yet," he admitted.
Buffy glared at him uneasily. "There's a small matter of revenge to be dealt with, first," he continued. "You've spent weeks hurting Willow. I intend to see that you suffer for that for a very long time."
"I think you've more than covered that," she stated, and her expression grew sad as she saw Willow's bright eyes looking warmly up at Spike.
The vampire smiled down at his childe and drew her into a brief kiss. "I disagree," he told the slayer as his lips brushed across Willow's cold cheek. "You've spent a long time building a reputation for yourself. A worthy reputation, I might add."
"I'm touched by your compliment," she sneered.
"We're going to tear that reputation apart, layer by layer," he vowed.
"Slowly and painfully, just the way you tortured Willow."
"Willow, you wouldn't--"
The redhead smiled coldly, "From best friends to mortal enemies--well, mortal for one of us. And all for the sake of a lie."
"You'll regret that lie everyday for the rest of your existence," Spike added. "Not even the sun can stop us, now. Do you realize we won't even have to feed if we don't want to?"
"Oh, but Spike, hunting sounds like such fun, and I really want to learn how. You'll teach me, won't you?" Willow asked hopefully.
"Of course I will, pet. You'll be wonderful at it," he nodded.
"Maybe we should start with something simple, though," she suggested.
"I know--how about Joyce? She isn't exceptionally bright."
Spike chuckled at the look of horror on the slayer's face. "Willow," Angel spoke as he stepped around Buffy. "You can't do this."
"You know what? I like you, Angel. I've always liked you," Willow told him. "I don't understand your choice of women, but I suppose everyone has a character flaw. I wish you hadn't gotten yourself in the middle of all this."
He reached out for her, and Spike snarled and tossed the stake aside as he pulled her closer. Willow giggled and turned to face him, placing her hands on his firm rear end and leaning up to kiss him.
"Goddess, you're hot when you do that," she murmured.
She grazed his earlobe with her teeth before turning back to Angel. "No soul here, friend, none at all," she reminded Angel. "Save your broad shoulders and your acts of compassion for the slayer. She's going to need them."
"I'm not going to let you hurt the people I care for," Buffy warned them.
"Oh, I hope not. What fun would it be if you just stepped back and closed your eyes? I want the chance to show you just how helpless you are," Willow responded.
"We'll find a way to stop you," Giles told her. "I promise."
"Uh huh. Got that," Willow said without the least bit of concern.
"We'll have that carved on your headstone when we finally get tired of watching you squirm. Now, what's the name of that pretty young anthropology professor you've been spending time with? Miss Mattison, isn't it? She might be fun. Spike and I could leave her bones on your doorstep."
Spike was staring at her with palpable adoration. Angel looked away from them and took Buffy's hand. The slayer shook her head and blinked at the tears stinging her eyes as they turned toward the door.
"I think our company is about to leave, pet," Spike said.
Willow put her arms around his neck and whispered, "Oh, good."
The door slammed shut, and he chuckled and cupped Willow's face in his hands as he bent to kiss her.
"When can we go hunting?" she asked as he swept her off the floor and started up the stairs.
"In the morning," he answered, nudging open the bedroom door with his foot. "I want to see the sunlight glimmering off your hair."
Willow smiled happily and reached her hand out to shove the door closed behind them.
The End
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