"Why should I," she mumbled back.
"I don’t know what’s wrong with you, Willow. Vampires just aren’t supposed to starve themselves for nothing. Are you staging a protest?"
"I’m tired. What do I care if I live or die?"
"Come on, now- that’s no way to talk. Here." He moved towards the crank lowering her cage close to the floor. Grabbing a crystal goblet from atop a wooden crate, he crossed the room again to stand next to her. "Open up," he requested. She did as he asked, remembering the skylight. He pressed the bright glass to her lips and she made a wish. The sweet crimson liquid filled her mouth, and she swallowed with difficulty, choking on the last of it.
"There." He took the cup back and looked at her idly. She sighed and sunk to the bottom of her new home, relieving the pressure of her pounding head by pressing her temple against the icy floor of the cage. She had to admit, she was beginning to feel better. Her stomach gave a satisfied growl, glad to have the much-needed nourishment. That had been the thirteenth day.
Months, he’d told her. It had been months since the beginning of this life. She was slowly gaining her strength back. Her new room was comfortable, and she was now free to wander about the warehouse without help. She slept less, spent more time thinking, spent more time with him. She’d been able to shower. Not a real shower of course- it had been an emergency water valve in a cramped room at the back of the warehouse, but the icy cold water had been a godsend. Spike had finally opened Dru’s overstuffed closet. Dozens of frilly dresses popped out in a burst of color as he’d opened the doors and released all the stored pressure. She saw the pain in his eyes before he turned away and left the room brusquely. Something had happened, she knew. He hadn’t talked about Dru at all since they’d left. Willow hadn’t felt right mentioning it either. She’d just avoided the whole subject, sensing that it would do more harm than good to try. She put on the dress, changing as quickly as she could to escape the cold air. The lily white silk was smooth and delicate. She wobbled a bit as she put the shoes on and then searched for a something to pull back her hair with. The drawer was musty, but there were a few shiny clips inside. She chose the pearl ones, drawing her still-drying hair up at the sides and out of her face. Spike looked stunned when she walked out into the main room. He didn’t say anything at first. Her hair was curly now, not having the advantage of a blow-dryer. She might have been Dru, if not for her bright auburn hair and smaller stature. She smiled at him, and decided now was as good a time as any. Slow, even paces brought her to his side.
"Spike?" She was bearding the lion in his den now, and it was making her more than a little nervous. "What happened to Drusilla?"
He had been looking down, but his head snapped up to stare her directly and defiantly in the face. He was stricken, and taken unaware, his body sprung like a coil, or a tiger ready to pounce. She shrunk back almost imperceptibly. Then as quickly as it had come, it passed. He let out a tired sigh and leaned against a broken-down conveyor belt. "The last time I checked, *Drusilla* was with Angelus." Sarcastic defense-mechanism, she noted, but waited for him to continue. She knew he would. "Meant to be, I suppose. After all, he is her sire, and who am I to stand in the way of a relationship like *that*? To put it simply, they never came back." He forced a dry laugh. "Ah, who cares anyway? To hell with them."
"You loved her," she said, prying just a bit more, just waiting for the lid to snap shut. It didn’t. Spike wasn’t Angelus. He wasn’t like any of the other vampires she’d seen before, but then again, neither was she. She didn’t know what she’d expected anyway. She felt like herself in some ways, but in others…"Yes. I loved her. God knows why. She was nothing more than a shell by then, but I couldn’t stop."
Willow touched his shoulder cautiously. "Did you know her before-"
"Before I was changed? Yes. She’d been able to love back then." He paused, reliving a memory or two. She watched the light and dark play on his face. "So sweet." His voice was resigned as he studied the floor. He looked up and faced her. "Of course Angelus changed all that." She let silence dance without interruption. "Sometimes she would look at me, and for a moment, it would be like nothing had changed. And I felt I had to… She was so weak…"
"You wanted to stay with her."
"What would she have done? At the beginning, she wouldn’t even get out of bed. I suppose I should be thankful. They’re probably feasting in Ireland somewhere together. He was always able to make her happy."
"What about you?"
"I want her to be taken care of. She is. She’s fine. I’ve fulfilled my duty."
"It was more than a duty."
"It’s over." He looked up again, but this time, he didn’t look so upset. In fact, he looked as if he were contemplating some remote possibility in the study of her face. "Red hair. It’s nice. The stuff of bad vampire novels, but nice," he laughed, lightening the mood. She smiled in response, patting her hair down at the sides. Her stomach growled restlessly. He nodded and laughed again, having heard it too. "Guess it’s lunch time." Their footsteps interchanged an easy syncopation as they quit the room.
The chill wind whipped across the ground, bending and breaking the stems of withering flowers. Winter was coming. Willow held his jacket tightly around her as she pressed ahead of him. The sky twinkled down on her. She stood on the hill, cheeks flushed with the cold, her long auburn curls trailing behind her. The dress was white again- her favorite. Her silhouette was breathtaking against the moon, or would have been, had he any breath, he thought. Dru’s apparition had begun to haunt him less and less. He was beginning to forget what she looked like in those dresses. They were Willow’s. They had always been Willow’s. His mind drifted back to minutes before when she’d brushed his shoulder. His blush wouldn’t have been noticeable in the dark anyway, but he’d looked away shyly for convention’s sake. She stood up on the still green hill and craned her neck towards the sky. "It’s beautiful," she shouted down to him. Still exploring the constellations, she continued to watch the sky as she spoke to him. "I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed it," she mused, and then came back to her senses. "Why are you waiting down there? Come on up."
He hesitated, unwilling to spoil the calm moment of reflection. And he liked standing in the valley below and watching her enjoy her new life. There had been so many times before when she’d been reduced to listlessness. He was afraid for her sanity. He wasn’t Angelus. But she was safe from Angelus, he assured himself with a sigh. There was nothing he could do to her now, even if he did return. That seemed a distant possibility now. He joined her on the hill, stepping up behind her and watching all she saw from over her shoulder. She was smiling in wonder. He’d never seen her face lit up that way, and it delighted him. "I didn’t know this would mean that much to you."
"I miss them. I miss the outdoors."
"Then we’ll have to go out much more often," he decided, and she nodded in agreement. Without warning, she pulled him down to sit on the soft earth alongside her.
"I’m glad you made me eat that night," she confessed, pinning him with her eyes.
He was startled. "I thought-"
"I wanted to die?" He nodded. "I did. But not now. I must admit that living in a cage kind of clouds your judgments on life." She’d meant it as a joke, but he looked like she’d just pulled out a stake. "I didn’t mean-" She touched his arm apologetically.
"I’m sorry," he sighed, looking away from her, "It was just, well, Angelus, and Dru-"
"You don’t have to explain," she said gently. "They wanted to kill me. You had no choice." When he didn’t turn around, she reached out for him , drawing his face to her slowly. "Hey," She tried to smile, but felt it ooze away as she saw his face. The seriousness she found there struck her like a physical blow. She’d never seen such a look. "It’s alright," she purred, trying to heal the painful wound she’d somehow caused.
The rays of the moon lit up his pale face, and his hair looked as white as the light itself. Something within her clicked when his eyes finally met hers. Her heart rose in her throat, and tried to steady herself to keep from choking on it. Her cheeks were burning under the scrutiny of his searching gaze. She froze, not daring to move her hand, or anything else. An outside force pushed them together, if anything. Their lips met tenderly, but the shock of the contact was like lightning. Both were temporarily taken aback, and on the verge of turning around and taking off in opposite directions. They didn’t.
Willow touched his face gently, smoothing her fingers over a scar on his cheek. With that encouragement, he weaved his fingers into her hair delicately and deepened their kiss. Though they were vampires, and creatures of passion, the kiss remained an angelic experiment. A swift gust of wind had them huddling closer. Neither needed air, so it lasted for minutes. Spike drew away first, looking more like a shy child than a powerful vampire. Willow smiled at him reassuringly, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.
Reality was quick to rush in, and Willow suddenly realized that it was later than they’d imagined. She could feel the faint glow of the sun beginning approach the horizon, and grabbed Spike’s hand. She saw him look back over his shoulder. He felt it too. Together, they charged for the warehouse, tripping up several times in the process. The light was getting stronger she knew. Halfway there, she saw the glow. "Spike! We can’t make it. We have to find somewhere else to-" That was when he dragged her down cement stairs and through a broken door. Regaining her senses in an instant, she slammed the door behind her and sunk to a seated position on the floor. It suddenly struck her: this was Angelus’ apartment.
The apartment was new to her- she’d never been in Angel’s home as a vampire or as a human. It was as still as a crypt, and the cement walls certainly reminded her of one. There were a few things placed about haphazardly, apparently for decorative purposes. Some decoration. A little carved statuette encased in glass stood as a display near one wall, and there was an old dusty bed in the corner. She supposed that everything had remained intact since his change. That had been eons ago. She remembered the her fish in the envelope and grimaced. She didn’t like Angelus. It was something she’d picked up from Spike, and that she’d observed during her first week at the warehouse, despite the fact that most of it had been a result of Drusilla. She looked at the bed again, and suddenly something pink peeking out from under the sheets attracted her attention. She drifted to the bed and sat down. It was Buffy’s shirt, she realized, and an odd feeling passed over her as a twinge of her old life returned transiently. Where was Buffy, anyway? Somewhere in Europe. Probably Transylvania by now, she thought with a wry twitch of her lips. The slayer’s distance allowed Willow to remember Buffy fondly. If she were here trying to stake her old friend now, it would have been an entirely different story, she thought. Spike startled her when he sat down behind her. She almost jumped until she looked back over her shoulder to meet his incredulity.
"Willow," he whispered calmly as he smoothed the shoulder of her dress with one hand. "Vampires aren’t supposed to be this jumpy."
"I know," she answered, watching her feet, "but they aren’t supposed to want to take care of others, or to harbor affection, or-" Spike stroked her hair, running his fingers through the auburn locks and caressing her cheek. Before the silence began to set in, he pulled her into a long, sweet kiss, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her towards him. Reluctantly, she let her concerns fly away; kissed him back gently. She slid her fingers through the bleached hair at the base of his skull, enjoying the rush that was beginning to lift her heart. She felt him nuzzle her throat and almost cried out. She was melting into him, and it was wonderful to just let herself go. Her thoughts returned to plague her suddenly.
"Spike, what if they come back?" She barely managed to get the words out. They seemed to be stuck in her throat. He continued to press his lips to her neck languorously as he answered. "They won’t. They’ll be there forever with the slayer chasing them like she is. And I have every confidence that Angelus can take care of the both of them."
"What if he can’t?"
He stopped, disturbed by the thought. He looked pained. "Maybe it’ll be better for her then."
"You don’t mean that."
He winced. "I do," and paused. "I finally do."
She almost squirmed at the intensity she saw in his eyes. It was indescribable. She attempted a pained smile to cover it up, but then another thought struck her. "What if Buffy-"
"As much as I hate to admit this, the slayer is strong. She will not give in easily. They won’t come back, Willow." She looked at him doubtfully. "They won’t. And if they do… Nothing’s going to change this."
The silence was as resolute as he seemed, and she trusted him. After all, hadn’t it been his footsteps she’d grown accustomed to day after day?
"I myself have never been able to find out
precisely what a feminist is; I only know
that people call me a feminist whenever I
express sentiments that differentiate me
from a doormat."
--Rebecca West, 1913.
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