Chapter 9: Friends in Low Places
In the back of the Bronze, unnoticed, sat a young man with bright green eyes. He kept reaching up to his neck as if searching for something that wasn't there. His eyes were narrowed and focused, as most of the male and some of the female eyes were, on a particular redhead in leather. Most Sunnydale inhabitants were so used to seeing vampires that they didn't even register the play of ridges across a familiar face. The other thing they didn't notice were the waves of magick coming off of this particular girl. But he wasn't like them. And he did notice.
Erik was eight hundred years old. He was a vengeance demon. Well, 'was' being the operative word in the sentence. He'd been having a stroke of bad luck lately. It wasn't easy being a vengeance demon for men. For one thing, they weren't very creative with their wishes. They had no mind for true pain and devastation. It was usually blemishes or funny odors or bad luck with their next boyfriend. And lately, he kept messing up. Finally he'd lost his job when he'd mistaken a girl for her sister while exacting revenge. They were twins for Christ's sake!
He had thought about bending time to get the amulet back, but that wouldn't be good enough. He was likely to make the same mistakes all over again. No, he needed to become more powerful. Then, when he had completed a few spells, proven his worth again, the amulet would be offered to him on a gold plate. The only problem was where he was going to get this power. His eyes settled back on the little red-haired witch. He laughed to himself. Strangely, he was feeling very optimistic. Aside from the vampire, the witch was the only one with power at that table. It would be so easy. He smiled wider. Where there's a will, there's a way.
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Ripper met Spike's eyes over the top of the witch's head. He raised a brow as if to say, are you game for a little revenge, mate? The answer was an unequivocal yes. Slowly Spike took one step closer to Willow, effectively blocking her. Then Ripper stalked forward carefully pinning her up against the vampire and settling his hands on her hips. Spike took her hand, pressed it to where his heart should have been beating and pulled her toward the dance floor, Ripper never missed a step or lost contact. Willow swallowed hard and hoped that she was up for whatever these two had in mind.
Spike and Ripper began to move to the beat of the pulsing music in near perfect sync. They had moved so close together now that sometimes the mens' hands brushed as they touched Willow. She was trapped in between them, and Goddess help her, she didn't want out. She had no choice but to move with them, and enjoy as much as she could. A slow heat began to burn low inside her. It pulsed and throbbed to the beat of the music, too. At the same time, they each ran a hand along her shoulder up to her neck, brushing away her hair. Then they bent their lips to her neck and earlobe and gently began nibbling and kissing their way across her skin. Willow could barely breathe.
"Red? Do you like this?" Spike whispered. Then his mouth descended over hers, his tongue gently exploring. The taste of her was addictive. He could almost forget that he was competing for her attentions. She moaned into his mouth. Abruptly, Ripper spun her away from Spike to face him.