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Willow Rosenberg looked at herself in the mirror and frowned. Her hair was all wrong. The shirt she had purloined from Buffy’s closet was all wrong. The shoes she was wearing, another loan from the Buffy’s closet of fashion goodness, were all wrong. With a pout, Willow sat down on her bed. She had been trying desperately all day not to cry. Oz was gone, to who knows where. Sometime in the hours she had spent, alone with her brooding about Oz’s leaving, she had decided that if Varuka was what Oz was attracted to, then she, Willow Rosenberg, could be bad too.

That was why at 9 pm she was staring at herself in the mirror, trying to decide what to wear to aid her in the pursuit of badness. So far she wasn’t inspired. Her closet was just a jumble of nerdy type Willow clothes, and it had taken going into Buffy’s wardrobe to see anything remotely with the bad. Buffy didn’t even know that she was borrowing her clothes.

Buffy was out patrolling, as usual. No time for Willow and her dejected Oz weeping. Willow stood up from her bed and walked awkwardly to Buffy’s closet once more. Pushing back the mountains of clothes, stakes and shoes, Willow peered into the darkness of the closet and spied something new. Something that she hadn’t even thought that Buffy would wear.

Willow pulled the article of clothing out of the closet and grinned. This is perfect!

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A semi confident Willow strolled into the Bronze, clad in leather pants (Buffy’s), a red corset top (again, Buffy’s), and stiletto heels (borrowed from Anya of all people), that she hadn’t quite grasped the use of yet. She hadn’t managed to twist her ankle at this point, so that was a bonus.

The beat of the music in the bar was loud. That didn’t do anything to remove that feeling of self consciousness that was clouding her perception of the atmosphere. Everywhere eyes were searching the room and landing on her barely concealed bodice. It was making her uncomfortable and fidgety.

Willow moved towards the bar, carefully stepping through the crowd making sure to plant her feet securely, avoiding possible ankle twistage. As she attempted to flag down the bartender, Willow’s doubts reared their heads. First of all, no way were they going to serve her, she was there all the time. No fancy corset and Buffy’s pants were going to fool the staff. She certainly couldn’t fool herself. She was still nerdy Willow that Oz left. Clothes couldn’t make her different.

She was about to move away from the bar, slink out the back door and go back to the dorms when she felt a body move in behind her in the crush of the crowd around her. The body was hard and male. Very male. Pressed so intimately against her, he moved from side to side getting the bartender’s attention.

“JD, straight up for me, and a strawberry daiquiri for the lady,” came a very British voice, that Willow had to admit she recognised. Slowly, pressed against the bar and his body, Willow turned, a slight twinge of fear passing over her face as she resolved to be strong about the vampire pressing into her backside.

“S…Spike?” she muttered, nervously, looking at the black clad blood sucker that was pressed up against her.

The vampire cocked his head and looked at the red head before him up and down with a leer. It was all Willow could do not to go ‘eep’ and run away. Unfortunately he did that thing with his tongue and her eyes were suddenly drawn to his mouth.

“Looky here,” he purred. “Borrowed the Slayer’s get up did you?”

Willow paled momentarily at being found out. Then she put on her resolve face.

“So?” she glared. “She’s my room mate, maybe she let me borrow her clothes. Yep, that’s what happened. She’s my friend! Friend’s borrow clothes!”

Spike chuckled. “I’m not the one with the guilt, pet.”

“Guilt? What guilt. No guilt! Guiltless. Guilt free!”

“Me thinks the lady doth protest too much,” he answered.

“I doth not!”

The bartender placed the two drinks Spike had ordered on the bar in front of the vampire with a thump. Gracefully, Spike handed the daiquiri to Willow watching as she sipped cautiously.

“So are you going to explain the whole Slayer get up? Or am I going to have to come up with my own explanation, however perverted and evil I wanna make it?”

“Eww,” Willow crinkled her brow.

Willow caught the gaze of her vampire companion...No, not her vampire companion. The feeling that she was very much in danger, in the going to die in a bitey way, was not exactly going away. His smirk was doing nothing to allay her fears.

“I...I was going for a new look...” she whispered nervously.

Spike trailed a hand over her bare arm, his eyes raking over her body with a leer.

“New look,” he answered not quite questioning.

“That’s right!” she exclaimed, suddenly on the attack. “I can be all sexy and dangerous! I’m a powerful she witch!”

Spike smiled at her outburst, downing his whiskey and flagging down the bartender again. Her cheeks flushed , Willow sipped at her daiquiri while Spike had his back turned. He turned back with a bottle of JD and pressed up against her again. Willow had to hold out her drink to avoid spilling on him. Suddenly, Spike grabbed her hand and pulled her behind him as he navigated through the crush of the crowd, finally coming to a stop at the stairs to the balcony when Willow finally pulled her hand out of his grip, grabbing onto the railing to keep from falling on her rear.

“I’m not going with you, anywhere!” she protested. “I don’t care if you bought me a drink.” Willow pointed with her free hand at him. “Vampire.”

Spike pointed right back, clutching his bottle of JD close to his body. “Witch.” He took a swig from the bottle before continuing. “You think I’m fool enough to piss off some witch who could very well curse off my dick?”

Willow’s cheeks blushed bright red.

“’Course, you might not want to do the cursing when you see Spike junior in action.”

Willow raised an eyebrow even as he cheeks doubled in redness. It suddenly occurred to her that maybe Spike was drunk. He had been hiding it well.

“You call it Spike junior?” she asked with a quizzical eye.

“What? Wolf boy doesn’t have a name for his?”

Oz.

Willow sniffed back a tear as her thoughts returned to what she had been trying to avoid thinking about since she entered the Bronze.

“You cryin’?” the vampire asked.

Willow shook her head frantically, willing back her tears. Spike caught her chin with his free hand and forced her to look into his eyes.

“N...No,” she stammered, refusing to admit it even as he eyes continued to water.

“Liar,” he countered. “Wolf boy?”

“Gone,” whimpered Willow.

“That the reason for the ‘new look’?” asked the vampire.

Sadly Willow nodded and gave a resigned sigh. “Wanted to be different, dangerous, like the girl he slept with...the girl that...” Willow dissolved into tears and let Spike gather her up in his arms. She didn’t know why she was confiding in him, or why he was hugging her, but it felt nice. Nice to have someone give a really comforting hug. Not like the hugs Buffy had given her, a pat on the back and to tell her that everything is going to be alright. Something about this hug made her want to cry on his shoulder for hours. This hug made her realise that he truly felt her pain.

She cried for a long time, letting out the emotions that she’d been forced to keep in all night long. Finally she pulled back from the hug and wiped her eyes.

“Thanks,” she murmured taking a sip of her slowly melting daiquiri.

“No problem, Red,” he whispered, taking the cap off his bottle of whiskey and drinking down a gulp. “You wanna go do something fun?”

Willow looked quizzically. Going anywhere with a vampire, even one who was drunk and being really nice to her, was no guarantee that she was going to wake up tomorrow morning, alive.

“Is it going to end up with you chewing on my neck?” asked Willow, her eyes hooded as she sipped her drink.

“Not if you don’t want it to...” he smirked at her.

Willow took a long look around where she was standing. This was boring, and she had been contemplating going back to her dorm room and curling up with a magic book before crying herself to sleep. And there was that bit about Spike being afraid she’d curse off his penis...

“What did you have in mind? Fun wise, not neck chewing wise...cause that’s so not going to happen or I might just have to get happy with the penis cursing,” she asked. “Don’t make me curse you!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, pet,” he said smirking once again. He extended his free hand to her to take.

With no little hesitation, Willow finally put her small hand into Spike’s larger one, inhaling sharply as he wrapped his fingers around it. She followed him out of the Bronze and into the night.

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Willow dropped her empty glass on the road as they walked away from the Bronze. She felt more than a little strange that she had left the bar with the daiquiri in hand, glass only half emptied. The sound of the glass shattering on the pavement made her giggle. She was suddenly no longer afraid of just what Spike and she were about to get into.

Spike led her to the shady part of town, which really wasn’t that far from the Bronze side of town. He was still holding her hand, which struck her brain as odd, but she went with it, wondering just how this night was going to play out.

They stopped in front of a building Willow had never been in, but had heard much about.

“Willy’s?” asked Willow sceptically. “We are going to have fun at Willy’s?”

“No, pet. We’re gonna get supplies for our evening of fun,” he responded, tugging at her hand, leading her in to the building.

Willow looked around her with awe as demons in every shape and size were enjoying the ‘ambiance’ of Willy’s. She tried not to look scared. Demons could smell fear. Buffy had told her that once. Spike let go of her hand and placed his bottle of whiskey down on the bar.

“Need a little info, mate,” came Spike’s voice, directed at the cowering barkeep. “Sepia, know where she is?”

“No...No!” stammered the bartender. “I don’t know where she is. I know she owes you kittens Spike, but I...that’s all I know.”

Spike reached over the bar and lifted Willy clear up off the floor. “Wanna try again, mate?” growled Spike, shifting into his vampire bumps and fangs.

“Ok, ok!” gasped the bartender. “She’s got a new lair, looking into the human sacrificing gig again, down by the river. Pretty crypt, angels and a few crosses to keep you out.”

Spike threw the barkeep down and grabbed Willow’s hand again and picked up his bottle. “Thanks, mate. Much obliged,” Spike thanked the man sarcastically, tugging Willow out the door.

“Who’s Sepia?” asked Willow once they were out into the dark alley behind Willy’s.

“Witch, owes me a few kittens,” responded Spike.

“Oh,” answered Willow, trying desperately to keep up with the pace that Spike was leading her away from the demon bar. The wheels in her head were turning at a furious rate, trying to reason out what Spike would need with kittens and why this witch owed him some. There were things about vampires that she would never be able to understand.

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The pair stopped in front of a crypt in one of the many cemeteries that Willow knew Buffy patrolled on a regular basis. She had to agree with Willy, it was kinda pretty. Spike let go of her hand once again and knocked on the crypt door.

Eventually a small blue haired girl, looking like she was ten years old opened the door, a brilliant smile gracing her lips as she saw just who was at her door.

“William! Darling!” Sepia greeted. “Are you here for the kittens?”

Willow puzzled over the kittens again and how the two knew each other.

“Actually, I am, but I was wondering if I could cash in the kittens for a favour?”

Sepia crossed her arms and looked at the vampire quizzically. “What kind of a favour?”

“Need a present for Red here, just had her heart ripped to pieces. Got any spare spells layin’ about?”

Willow’s eyes went wide at Spike’s words. She met Sepia’s gaze to see a smile reflecting back at her. There was something about the gaze that just made Willow feel like she’d been found out, all her secrets, hopes and desires laid bare for Sepia and Sepia only to see.

“I might have a thing,” noted the blue haired witch.

“I...You don’t have to...” stammered Willow, looking frantically from Sepia to Spike. She didn’t know what the little witch person was going to do, but she wasn’t ready for whatever it was.

“But I want to...” answered the little witch raising a hand at Willow.

Suddenly, Willow was scared. Sepia mumbled something in Latin far too fast for Willow to comprehend and energy shot out of the witch’s fingers straight at her.

Willow felt stronger immediately, power trickled out from her own finger tips.

“What did you do?” Willow asked, the new feeling coursing through her body making her voice airy.

“It’s a present. Just call me your fairy god mother!” Sepia cackled. “This takes care of those kittens?” she asked Spike.

The vampire nodded. “Thanks pet.”

With a nod of her head Sepia turned back into her home and shut the door.

“Now, we can go have some fun!” grinned Spike, grabbing Willow’s hand again.

________________________________

“How is this fun?” asked Willow as she looked on at the pointless display of masculine prowess.

Before them on the pavement of the alley below them, it appeared as if the demon version of fight club was happening.

“It’s fun because you’re a powerful witch and none of those blokes down there have any clue we are up here. You can zap away to your little hearts content, and I’m gonna have a right fun time laughing at them all while you do it,” he answered, uncapping his ever present bottle of whiskey.

“You’re sick,” she said, turning away.

Spike grabbed her hand and pulled her back.

“The way I see it, Red, is that you need this. Got to get closure or some nonsense about this bint wolf boy had a thing for. She’s dead, yeah? Can’t really get your kicks if she’s pushing up daisies now can ya?”

Willow shook her head. She muddled it around her head for a few minutes. No matter what she thought about it, it was still wrong to get revenge on others, even if they were demons. “It’s still wrong, Spike,” Willow finally whispered.

“Why?” he asked his eyebrows raised. “They’re demons, aren’t they? Don’t got souls, right?”

Willow looked up at him with alarm. He’d made his point.

“I think I need another drink,” Willow muttered, only to have another daiquiri appear in her hand. She smiled at the drink. “I like this.” Suddenly her smile faded. “Am I going to get arrested for consuming alcohol outside, in public?”

Spike chuckled. “This is Sunnydale Red. Cops don’t leave their cozy police station unless there’s a body or time for a donut run.”

Willow laughed over the rim of her glass. “Xander would make a great cop then,” she observed. “Why are you here anyway? And why were all ‘let’s get a witch to give you power‘? Didn’t Buffy kick your ass enough already in your unlifetime?”

“She’s gonna kick it tonight? I thought we were havin’ a moment here...” he whispered, moving closer to her.

Willow raised her eyebrow. “A moment?”

“Yeah, you, me, alcohol, demons fighting in the background...” he stepped even closer, the liquid in the bottle he was holding swishing around as he moved.

Willow put up a hand. “Hold on...Remember the broken bottle and the potential having? There is still a no having policy here!” she protested. Willow looked up into Spike’s eyes and actually thought for a moment that he was pouting.

“Are you pouting?” she asked bewildered that a vampire, Spike, would be pouting.

“No!” Spike straightened up and turned to look back at the demons that were fighting in the alley below them.

Tentatively Willow raised her free hand to touch his shoulder.

“Spike, you are drunk, and well, I’m all sad from Oz leaving. It’s not a good reason to jump into anything with anyone.” Instantly, Willow hated her level head and voice of reason.

Reason wasn’t getting her over Oz faster. Reason wasn’t making the pain go away.

Reason sucked.

“You tell yourself that if it makes you feel better,” he responded. “Just trying to be a gentleman.”

“You, a gentleman?” she snorted.

“Hard to believe isn’t it?” he smirked back at her. Spike set down his empty bottle and stepped away from her. “I’ll leave you be.”

His heavy doc martins echoed along the balcony’s cement floor.

“Spike?” asked Willow after him, causing the vampire to halt in his tracks. “Thanks for the company.”

He smiled and continued on his way.

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Spike entered the lair he had had with Harmony and sighed. He hadn’t intended to get all whatever it was he had gotten with the witch. Maybe it was because he felt her pain, or that it was seeking out someone who felt the way he did. Whatever it was, it was gone, over and done with. He refused to think about it. He shed his duster and stalked towards the bedroom. Perhaps Harmony was willing to relieve some of this sexual frustration he was having.

The entrance to the bedroom was oddly graced by a pile of dust and Spike immediately jumped to the conclusion that Harm was dust. Just how was he supposed to get laid now?

“This is just great!” he spat, thinking only of himself and his cock.

“You mean I shouldn’t have dusted her?” asked Willow, stepping out of the shadows. “You want some more company?” she asked timidly.

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fini