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Chapter 2:
Did someone forget the dead part?
by Quwinntessa Starber
The deep room swayed with the firelight of a hundred candles. Willow’s eyes watched the shadows crawl towards her and then recede. It was like watching a living thing move with ethereal beauty. Slowly, she lifted her head and looked at the whole of her surroundings.
She was lain out on a large four poster bed, which supported a black comforter and blood red satin sheets neatly contrasting over the lip. Farther away from the comfortable bed was a large bay window with a window seat that was currently littered with a dozen or so glowing candles of different colors and shapes. The moonless night sky allowed the glass to reflect all the light from the warm glow back into the room like a mirror.
Staring into the mirror-like window allowed Willow to examine her space without turning her head. Behind her she saw the tops of high backed chairs arranged around a fireplace frozen in time from a century long forgotten. A beautifully decorated door looked small in its reflection, and Willow reasoned that this room was quite large indeed.
Pulling away from the looking-glass, Willow's eyes turned to the walls which were covered in shadow and mystery. Every wall she looked to was covered in antiques she couldn't place. As her eyes swayed around the walls next to the window, her eyes came to rest upon the nightstand which stood beside the bed. It was then that Willow realized just how high up the bed was off the floor. A good four feet below her rested her shoes and socks. Glancing up to her feet, she saw that indeed her feet were bare. She wiggled her toes for good measure and then turned around to examine the other side of the bed and bedroom. What she saw forced her to draw in a deep breath.
Standing regally next to the fireplace was Spike. He stood staring at her as intently as she was staring at him. Slowly, Willow realized he was not wearing the same trademark red shirt, but instead was draped beautifully in form fitting black leather pants and a white gothic looking poet shirt that was half open, exposing his upper chest.
The silence between them stretched on as both continued to stare at the other. Around them the living light swayed like the sea, lulling the two first closer together and then farther apart.
She didn't want to speak, but the absolute need of knowledge that was so Willow compelled her to break the standoff. "Am I dead?"
A slow and soft smile crept over the vampire’s pale face as he regarded her, then suddenly it came crashing in on its self. "If I said you weren't, would you be disappointed?"
Spike watched her closely as her eyes found her hands and she began to fidget. He couldn't understand her.
In the park, when she had told him she wanted to die, he had thought it was the liquor and circumstance talking. When he'd sunk his fangs into her delicately scented neck he'd been ready to do as she asked. But the first taste of her blood had immediately ended that thought.
Her blood had been rich, thick with a sweet innocence to it. There was no other way to describe it really. He'd wanted more, but he also wanted more for later too. He'd decided in the time of a thought that he'd drain her to unconsciousness and take her back to the factory. At least that was the plan until the girl had spoken. "Thank you, Spike." In reality it meant nothing, but Spike had been alone since Drusilla left him months earlier, and her whispered words of thanks had sealed both of their fates.
Stepping away from the fireplace, Spike made his way to the bed where Willow still sat examining her hands. When he reached her side he placed a single cool finger under her chin and tilted her eyes up to meet his. His words were soft, but also demanding. "I believe I asked you a question, Red."
Willow couldn't help it, his eyes demanded too much of her. "Yes, I am disappointed." Swiftly then, Willow rolled her head to the side to escape his stone cold fingertips. Eyes once again cast down she waited for him to laugh, to promise her that he had only brought her here to prolong her suffering. This was after all Spike, and Willow understood that these were her final moments.
But Spike wasn't interested in the kill at the moment; he was too busy examining her answer. <Why the bloody hell would she want to die so badly?! Sure she's the weak one, but this is ridiculous! Maybe she thinks I’m going to kill her and she's putting on a bloody show of indifference. That must be it. But still, her heart rate hasn't increased in the slightest; she's not afraid of me…well I'll be damned, the mousy little Slayerette does want to die.>
Moving his hand faster than human sight could comprehend, he captured Willow's face again and forced her to look at him once more. In her eyes he saw nothing. Her eyes were already dead; she was only waiting for the rest of her body to follow.
A sudden ache filled him and he swiftly removed his hand from her face and stepped away from the bed where a stunned Willow still sat unmoved from when he'd first walked over.
Spike returned to his perch by the fireplace.
Willow watched Spike as he seemed to stare off into a completely different world. She wasn't sure what she was suppose to make of him, but for some strange reason she didn't feel threatened by him—and that made her angry.
She had gotten drunk, in the middle of the night, in the middle of the park--which was major vampire hunting grounds--and then screamed at the top of her lungs for a vampire to come and kill her. And then when the most deadly of the bunch showed up, he didn't even kill her. What did she have to do, spell it out for him? Stupid vampire!
"Look Spike," at her voice, he turned his attention to look at her. "I realize this is a new concept to you, but I want to die; and you really do want to kill me. So why don't we get this stupid torture thing over with and you just gorge yourself on my oh so sweet blood. Or whatever you want to call it. Okay?"
One blink, then another. Willow watched in amazement as the vampire who had threatened to kill her and her friends numerous times just stood there staring at a free meal. He didn't even seem interested in her, like in reality she wasn't really there.
His next words proved her right. "Do you know how long you've been out? Or even where you are? Don't you think those would be some good questions to be asking yourself?"
Questions with questions. "Look Spike I don't really care where I am, or how long I've been here, or even why I’m here! Why is this so hard for you to understand? There are lots of people who want to die everyday. Why is this such a brain teaser that I'm one of them?"
"Because Pet, I've known you for a pretty long while and you never seemed the type. Sure you weren't the strongest of the bunch, but you weren't a quitter either. So I'm wondering, what made you change your mind, that’s all."
He'd struck a nerve, the moment he'd mentioned her friends, her head had shot down to watch her hands again. He called her on it. "This have something to do with those friends of yours?" No response. "Or that bloody Slayer?" That had done it.
At the mention of the Slayer, Willow's shoulders had tensed up and her whole body seemed to shake with uncontrolled emotions. Spike was about to press the obvious answer to his question, when she surprised him with a question of her own.
"How long have I been here?"
"Four days."
Willow's head flew up and she stared at the vampire less than twenty feet away from her. "Four days? But that's impossible! You bit me just last night. And even if it had been four days, Buffy would have come looking for me. There's no way you could keep me in Sunnydale for four days without Buffy finding me."
"That’s 'cause we aren't in Sunnydale any longer."
A flash of light, a hint of terror crossed the girl’s face. Suddenly she realized she didn't know where she was, how she had gotten there, or how to get home.
But fear doesn't last long in a body that's determined to end its own suffering, and Willow only cleared her throat and asked pointedly. "Then where are we?"
"Somewhere the bloody Slayer can't find you." It wasn't an answer really, but the girl on the bed didn't protest for a more detailed one.
Walking once more to the bed, Spike regarded Willow, who in return was regarding him. The next thing he did startled both of them; Spike sat down on the bed next to Willow and took her hand.
For Willow, his words echoed long after he had left her room, locking the door behind him; and long after she had blown out all of the candles. "You're here because I want you here. And you'll stay here until I let you go, or kill you which ever I choose. You want to die so badly Red, let’s see how you fair with just a little bit of death at a time."
But a little isn't enough, for a woman who’s met her match in life. Staring into the single remaining lit candle, Willow Rosenburg drifted off into an uneasy sleep, filled with dancing vampires and living flames.
chapter 1