Changing Of The Guard: Part Six
by WillowSlay
I don't own anything. Not even the keyboard I'm typing this on, so don't even think about suing me because you'll get absolutely nothing out of it other than a hefty lawyer bill!



***

Willow looked up at the sound of a door slamming. She gasped as she saw Spike exit the funky-looking mansion she was sitting across from. She jumped up and looked for a place to hide. She wasn't armed. It was too late, Spike saw her.

He was on her in an instant. Faster than she could blink, he was standing right in front of her.

"Hello, Red. Fancy you being in this part of town this time of night."

"Uh, hi, Spike," Willow forced a laugh, "Yeah, isn't that something? Well, it's been nice chatting, bye!" She attempted to walk away, but Spike stepped in front of her.

"I think we have a lot to talk about now, Willow, is it?" Willow nodded, scared out of her mind.

"Well, um, what do you want to talk about?" she asked, trying to stall for time until she could come up with a plan. Or until someone miraculously appeared to save her.

"I'd like to begin with this dream I had about your friend the Slayer. You see, it was very frightening," he said mockingly. "She killed Dru, and that's not something that goes over well around here. So, now, my question to you would be, what's she got planned?"

"What's who got planned?" Willow asked innocently.

"Don't play dumb with me, lovie, I know you're smart. What's the Slayer got planned for Dru and me? What's she up to? She's been lying low lately and I want to know why. And if you tell me, I might just let you live." Truth of the matter was, he was probably going to let her go anyway. She was a beautiful girl, really, standing there in the moonlight with her red hair and pale skin, if not a bit awkward. 'She'd make one hell of a vampire, with those looks already...' he thought. 'What am I thinking? I'm getting to be as bad as Dru, making nice with the Slayer's friends.' Shaking off the thoughts, he grabbed Willow by the neck and shoved her up against a tree.

"Now, love, what's you pal Buffy got planned?"

"Nothing!" Willow gasped. "I swear, we thought you were gone!"

"She's not that dumb. And if she is, that librarian isn't." 'God her skin is soft...' he began to think, loosening his grip on her neck until it became almost a caress. She didn't seem to notice.

"I swear, Spike, Buffy doesn't even know you're here. With the lull in vampire activity, we kinda figured you'd skipped town." Willow could hardly believe she was talking to Spike in an almost civil manner. Not like she had much of a choice, with his hand around her throat. A very strong, but gentle hand.

"Well then, I guess she is that dumb." Spike lowered his face close to Willow's.

"No, Buffy's not dumb, she's just out of-" Willow stopped herself just in time. She had almost told Spike that Sunnydale was free game without the Slayer!

"Out of what?" Spike demanded. He could see in her eyes that she was frantically thinking of a way out.

"Out of...she's out of..." Suddenly, a thought came to her. "She's out of Ho-hos!" Spike looked at her oddly.

"Ho-hos?"

"Yes, Ho-hos," Willow stammered. "The sugar, it makes her think better. But she went on a diet, so now she's not thinking as quickly." She groaned inwardly. That was almost as open an invitation to wreak havoc as saying Buffy had disappeared. Spike was getting impatient. The smoldering icy blue of his eyes was mesmerizing.

"Ok, love, enough games. Tell me what's really going on, or tell me what you want for an epitaph." Willow was terrified, so she acted on her instinct.

She kissed him.

Spike was surprised. It took awhile for it to sink in, but once it did, he found he enjoyed it immensely. He kissed her back, reaching up to run his fingers through her long red hair.

Willow could scarcely believe what she was doing. But as wrong as she knew it was, something about it felt right. She found herself sliding her hands around his back, pulling him closer to her. He was a great kisser. Of course, he'd had 200 years to perfect it. He was even better than Oz, who in her- Oz. What would Oz think? She reluctantly pulled away.

Spike looked down into the eyes of the small redhead in his arms. She looked upset, confused. He was dealing with a few emotions himself, demon or not. This was one of his sworn enemies; this girl had tried to kill him! Or at least, assisted in attempts to kill him.

"I-I'm sorry, I have to go." With that, she ran off down the street. Spike let her go. 'What an old softie I've become,' he thought. He looked up to watch her run away. 'God she's beautiful...'


* * *
Giles pounded on the Harris' door. He had to find Willow before she did something rash, which was exactly what he expected her to do. He had tried her house, but her mother said she was at Xander's. Suspecting Willow had lied to her mother about her whereabouts, he had driven to Oz's house, only to discover that there was no one home there either. So he ended up at Xander's, hoping he might know where Willow would have gone. "Xander!" he called, still pounding on the door "Xander!" Finally her heard the locks click, and Xander opened the door. "Giles! What are you- where's Willow?" he asked, when he noticed his childhood buddy's absence. "Oz just went to pick her up for their date, but her mom said she was here, so he went out to look for her. Why isn't she with you?" Giles sighed.

"I was about to ask you the same thing."

"You lost Willow?!" Xander's voice was getting higher by the moment.

"No, no, she ran away. We were, ah, researching her dream, and we found something rather, ah rather disturbing."

"What's rather disturbing? We don't like disturbing," asked Oz as he came up from behind Giles, having returned from a search for Willow.

"No luck?" Xander asked. Oz shook his head.

"I checked her house, my house, Buffy's house, the Bronze, everywhere I could think of. She's not there."

"Oh my. I certainly hope she hasn't gotten herself into trouble." Giles said.

"What did you find that upset her so much?" Oz asked.

"Well...it's not the best of news..." Giles began.


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