Willow put the small fuzzy animal on the pillow facing Spike. In a moment, she would let her alarm go off to wake the sleeping vampire. She was still in her flannel nightgown. He had carried her upstairs last night and she had fallen asleep with this arms around her. The only thing that clouded her feeling of contentment was thinking of Angel. Guilt over enjoying herself with Spike.
Spike was falling in love with her. Angel was falling in love with her. She was falling for both of them. Her feelings were impossibly entangled, she wished there were someway she could sort them out. She had never intended her little bet with Spike to escalate into a full-blown vampire love triangle.
Willowâs alarm went off, noisy and shrill. Spikeâs eyes snapped open and he turned his head. He let out a blood curdling scream and jumped out of bed, but he fell to the floor because his ankle was twisted in the sheets. âBloody Hell!â He spotted Willow. âRun for your life, Red! I bet he brought his green buddies with him.â
When, he couldnât get away, he shifted into demon face and growled at the fluffy troublemaker. He looked closer at the fuzzy character. âItâs Gizmo.â He picked it up. âOh, heâs not real.â His voice held equal parts relief and disappointment. Spike noticed Willowâs barely concealed grin. âTryinâ to scare me, pet?â
âNo. Yes. Only a little. Xander gave him to me after we saw the movie. I slept with the little guy for months afterwards, heâs been in my closet shelf ever since. I couldnât bear to throw him away. . .I just. . .wanted you to have him.â She smiled at him impishly as he struggled to his feet. âI do appreciate your heroic effort to save me from my stuffed animal. Were you going to bite him?â
He crossed his arms. âThatâs not funny, pet. I was half asleep, having a nightmare about those nasty green blokes. Then, I wake up to find that bloody thing on the pillow next to me.â He wouldnât look at her. âAnd I thought the way I woke up yesterday was frightening. â He tried to look upset with her, but he was absurdly pleased that she was gifting him with a treasured childhood toy.
âTell me, Spike, how can you be afraid of a gremlin. . .when youâve k-killed people and caused so much trouble?â She shuddered a little, it was hard for her to see him as the ferocious vampire he once was with the gentle Spike sheâd gotten to know.
âWell, I was the one causing all of it, wasnât I?â He said, defensively. Then he seemed to shake a little. âBesides, theyâre so green, and scaly and . . . little.â He held his hand at knee level.
âYouâre scared of small things?â
âYou wouldnât ask me that if you heard the stories Angelus told me about the little people in Ireland. Vicious. Besides, what would you be scared of if you were immortal?â He pointed out. âLittle things that slip past your notice. Creepy crawlies that you donât see until itâs too late.â
âAngelus used to tell you stories?â She sat Indian-style on the end of the bed.
âOh, thatâs the one thing that catches your interest? Him? You want to know more about my bleedinâ sire?â He pouted as he sat down on the floor to look up at her.
âNo. I want to know about what kind of stories you heard.â She replied diplomatically.
âAre you handling me, luv?â
âAre you still stalling?â
He paused a moment to think about which stories to tell her about. The fairies? The banshee? The brownies? The leprechauns? âHe told us stories that would chill you to the bone.â Spike looked around. Willow had duct-taped heavy blankets to the curtains for him, and the lighting was soft now, even at ten in the morning of a sunny California day. Willow gathered herself closer and leaned forward intently, as he began to speak. âBrownies are troublesome little folk . . .â
Willow watched as he spun tale after tale. He shifted his head and shoulders with the motion of the characters and even managed to effect a version of the brogue she had heard Angel using the other night. She was surprised to learn that he was a very talented story-teller. âI donât think he could have told them any better. Youâre really good at that.â She looked at him intently. âI canât believe he really sat around telling you stories.â
âWe were his children, Red. Besides, he probably took some sadistic pleasure in frightening the monsters that frighten people.â He gave a half smile. âSometimes, like when he was telling us stories, he wasnât so unbearable.â
Willow was perplexed. She had never heard Spike speak about Angel or Angelus in this way before. She knew from Gilesâ texts that there was certain bond between a vampire and their maker. But, somehow she had never connected that to Spike and Angel. Of course, reflecting on what she knew of Drusilla, Spikeâs true sire, she supposed that she wasnât quite capable of playing the mentor role for him. And Angelus appeared to be the âAlphaâ vampire, so to speak, who else would he look to? She motioned for him to sit next to her on the bed. âWhat was he like the rest of the time?â
âDonât ask me that, pet.â He looked at her with haunted eyes and gripped her hand. âYou donât need nightmares, too.â
âYou can trust me, Spike.â She shifted so they could face each other. âI have met Angelus. I know what he was like with humans. I always tried to imagine what he was like with other demons.â
Spike closed his eyes to call up the past, again. âSometimes, he was a real charming bloke. Heâd tell us stories, lead hunts, even bring home dinner. Other times, he . . .didnât.â
She remained silent, encouraging him with her eyes to continue. âDarla was never the one who got hurt. He bended to her every whim. And when she upset him, he had only one place to get his frustrations out.â Spike tilted his head to the side. âHe wasnât like most demons. He didnât blow up all at once. When he got mad, he got real quiet. And you knew it was coming. You could feel the tension. I would sit downstairs, silence all around me. And then you would hear it. The screaming.
âI forced myself to listen. If she couldnât escape it, neither could I. He was older, stronger. Meaner. And if I challenged him, got in his face, he would make it that much worse for her. I would sit, listening to her screaming, and I promised myself. . .someday. . . I would be stronger. I would find a way to prove I was his equal. Then I could stop him from hurting her.â
âWhen he finished, I would go to her. Tried to bring her presents to erase the new images in her mind.â He shook his head. âShe would just gaze back at me. So empty. Empty because she couldnât appease the anger Darla caused. Couldnât be what he needed. She used to tell me that she would never be enough. That it was her fault.
âBut what really got to me in the end, was when she started to like it. Because those were the only times that he paid attention to her. That was right before the bloody bastard went off and got himself a soul. And now, instead of paying for what he did, there he sits like a bleeding knight in shining armor. Wanting people to feel sorry for him.â Spike bit his lip. He wasnât sure if he should have told her this, could she handle these twisted memories?
Willow wondered if she would have been better off not knowing what he had just told her. But, knowing what she did, there was one last thing she had to ask. âDid he ever hurt you like that?â
âNot like that. We fought of course, he busted me up a few times. But nothing like what he did to her. He didnât have to.â Spike met her eyes for the first time. âAfter I gave up trying to please him, all he had to do was hurt Dru. That was worse than anything else he could have done.â
âWhen Angel lost his soul. . .why did you let him back in your life?â
âCould you turn your father away?â
********
Willow sat on her front doorstep. Angel would be arriving soon. She held the doll Spike had given her. Willow had named the doll, Red, which had pleased Spike. Her mind was still swirling with the images Spike had put into her mind. She wasnât all that sure that she could face Angel tonight. Sometimes, she had bad dreams about Angelus. Spikeâs memories would only add to her nocturnal nightmares. The worst one was when he held her by the throat in the hallway of her highschool. She usually woke up screaming, hands clutching the phantom fang marks in her neck, trying desperately to stem the flow of her lifeblood.
Spike stood behind her, his hands smoothing her hair. He had been overly cheerful today, trying to distract her. . . until the sun had set. Then, he had followed her around. Silent. Watching her prepare for her evening with Angel, but making no comment. She knew that he wanted her to stay with him. She also knew that she couldnât stay here tonight. Willow needed to talk to Angel, to gain his perspective. Maybe that would provide the missing piece to the puzzle. Help her make some sort of livable solution to her predicament.
Angel pulled into the driveway of Willowâs home. In the darkness, he saw a shadowed female figure, sitting on the steps. Clutching a doll. Over her, stood Spike, illuminated by the faint glow of the porch light. He stroked the womanâs hair. Angelâs hands gripped the steering wheel, resisting the urge to turn the car around and go back home. He steeled himself as he switched off the ignition. This confrontation was inevitable. He slowly walked towards the stoop, pulling the sunglasses from his eyes. âDrusilla.â Willow. They clattered to the ground, both lens cracking.
Willow looked up at Angel, disconcerted by his expression and his use of the other womanâs name. Spike moved to place himself between Angel and Willow. âYou could at least get her name right, Angelus.â
âAngel.â
â Souled or soulless youâre still the same bastard.â
Willow touched Spikeâs arm. He looked down at her. âYou donât have to go with him, luv. You can walk back in that house and Iâll keep you safe.â
âAngel isnât going to hurt me tonight, Spikeâ
âNo, heâll wait until you fall in love him before he does that.â He kissed her temple and backed away.
Willow stood up and Angel slipped his arm through hers, still shaken. He managed to escort her to the car and open the door for her. They drove away, leaving Spike standing on the doorstep. He cradled Red protectively in his arms.
Willow shifted her legs uncomfortably in the car. Angel had still not spoken to her. He seemed lost in his own thoughts. âYou thought I was Drusilla?â
âYes,â he admitted. She noticed they were driving in the direction of his hotel room. âWe need to talk about a few things.â
âI agree.â Willow wanted some answers from him. They drove the rest of the way in silence.
********
Angel indicated one of the overstuffed chairs and Willow sunk into it. The vampire sat across from her in the chairâs twin. âIâm worried about you, Willow. There are some things you need to know about Spike. But first, I have to tell you about William, the man he was before he was turned.â She sat back in her chair, content to let him tell this story in his own way for now.
She noticed that he had momentarily stopped treating her in a loverlike way, he was once more the Angel she had always known. Distant. Troubled. He seemed reluctant to begin.
âSpike told me that Drusilla sired him. That she wanted a companion.â She prompted.
âThatâs true. She sired him. But he became my. . .Angelusâ responsibility. He wasnât the headstrong, irreverent vampire that you currently know.â
âHe told me that he had wanted to be a poet.â
âWilliam.â He leaned forward in his chair. âAt first, Angelus thought Drusilla had not chosen wisely. He and Darla had contemplated staking the fledgling. William was a pathetic vampire at first. Despondent, grieving for some human woman who had rejected him. Drusilla had found him in an alleyway, crying. Darla and Angelus thought he was just her toy, a plaything to be kept for a while and then discarded.â He explained this further when he saw her confusion. âVampires pick a human to be a childe very carefully. They must look for a sign. You see, any human can be made into a minion. But, it takes a certain type of person to become a childe. The stress of being immortal is more than most humans can stand.â