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snoggedTitle: Holding Her Own (3/10)
Author: snogged
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Co. own the characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I don’t.
Pairing: Willow/Angelus, Willow/Tara, Willow/Angel (friendship)
Word Count: 2012
Overall Rating/Highlight for Warnings: FRAO/NC-17; *angst/dark themes, character death, drug use, crude language (including sexual swearing) violence, sex*
Setting: Set Post-Season 5 of BtVS/Season 2 of AtS.
Summary: Still struggling with Buffy's death, Willow gets an unexpected visitor that brings a whole new set of problems to Sunnydale.
Betas: the unmistakable![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
velvetwhip and angelskuuipo. All other mistakes are mine.
A/N: Several years ago, I started a WIP that never went further than the first chapter. This is my attempt to fix that. Enjoy!
A/N 2: This story is completed and chapters will be posted weekly.
Previous Chapters
Check out my shiny new header made by the marvelousspikesredqueen. :)
***
“Should I stay? Should I go?” Willow muttered to herself as she paced the length of the bedroom for the third time, her eyes focused on the fluffy, grayish-blue carpeting.
Occasionally she would cast a furtive glance at the bedroom door, trying to decide whether or not she should just turn the knob and walk through it. Logically, she knew that Spike hadn’t told her to stay put after informing her that he was on his way. She knew that the smell of burnt spaghetti would be far more tolerable than the smell of a decaying flesh. Plus, the Buffybot could probably use a systems check to make sure everything was still in working order after tonight’s patrol.
But Tara and Dawn were still very much missing in action and she knew that if she just waited a few more minutes, Spike would be here. When Spike arrived, he would take care of the stranger in her bed. When the body was gone, she would pull out her ingredients and books and conduct a locator spell. She had done them a thousand times before (okay, maybe more like twenty) and she knew it would provide her with answers. Even if those answers might involve Tara being…
A series of raps on the door interrupted her increasingly morbid train of thought and she pulled the door open, feeling a bit surprised to see Buffybot standing there instead of Spike. Smiling politely, Willow stepped to the other side of the wooden frame, blocking the robot’s view of the bed.
“Do you need something, Buffy?” Willow asked, brushing a stray red hair away from her eyes.
The Buffybot tilted her head and concern crinkled the corners of her lips. “You didn’t come downstairs when the pot started to smoke. Did you not hear the beeping? That noise means it requires service. I know you give me service when I am broken. Do you not offer others service as well?”
“Of course, I…” Willow murmured. “I’ll come downstairs in a minute and we can clean up the mess in the kitchen together.”
A 1000-watt smile spread over the Buffybot’s face and the glistening white of her teeth was nearly blinding. “Thank you, Willow. You’re my best friend.”
Those words carried an emotional sting, even though Willow knew that the Buffybot was just programmed to say them. It’s not like she knew any better and trying to explain it to her would be like running head-first into a brick wall. Before she could say anything at all, though, the robot hugged her with such force that she was required to take two steps backwards to keep her balance. When the Buffybot finally released her, Willow inhaled sharply.
“I hug Dawn when she’s upset,” the Buffybot replied, beaming. “I’m a good sister.”
“A very good sister,” Willow echoed. She hated that all she could do right now was placate the robot, but Spike was going to be here any minute, and she already wasn’t looking forward to being on the other side of his snark and anger when he found out that Dawn and Tara weren't enjoying a rated-G movie.
“I’m going to go wait for Dawn now,” the Buffybot said. “She’ll be home soon and I want to make her chocolate milkshakes.”
Willow’s lips parted slightly, ready to protest the robot’s use of the blender without supervision, but then she closed them, deciding it would be better for the Buffybot to just go busy herself in the kitchen instead of continuing to build on the ache squeezing Willow’s heart. “Have fun. I’ll see you soon.”
“Goodbye, Willow.” The robot waved, then turned and flounced down the stairs.
Before Willow could escape into her thoughts again, she heard the rustle of leather and a snort of irritation behind her.
“Spike,” she said, turning to face him and feeling relief wash over her.
“I heard virgin sacrifices were back in style for you witch types, Red, but I didn’t think you had it in you,” Spike said, smirking as he crossed his arms over his broad chest.
“She’s not…” Willow started. Admittedly, she hadn’t really explained to Spike why she needed his help. But she had been grateful that her vague descriptions had been enough to get him to begrudgingly show up. “It’s not what it looks like.”
“It sure looks like a dead girl, pet. And if you’re looking for a Merry Maid Service to clean this up…”
“It’s not like that,” Willow objected, not interested in hearing the rest of his smart remark. “I need your help. You said you’d help. So please…help?” The last bit came out sounding more like a squeak, but it was enough to get an agreeable nod out of the blond vampire.
As Willow chewed nervously on her bottom lip, Spike admired the corpse for a moment, his ice blue eyes scanning the flesh for the marks that would indicate how she got that way. Willow saw his tongue dart out every so often to lick his lips. It wasn’t in a lascivious way, like she’d seen him do around Buffy. It was more in the realm of ravenous and hungry. Not that it came as much of a shock. Angelus had left some pretty decent-sized fang marks in the woman’s neck and Willow couldn’t imagine that pig’s blood and cow’s blood were very good replacements for the real thing. Leaning forward, Spike inhaled and his nostrils flared as if he sensed something uncomfortably familiar.
“Pet, why didn’t you tell me?” Spike asked, his tone harsh and raspy.
“Tell you what?” Willow asked. He probably thought she was playing innocent, but she honestly had no idea what scent he picked up on and before she started stringing sentences together, it would be nice to know what he had figured out first.
Spike’s eyes narrowed and she heard a low growl come from deep his throat. At first, she thought he was going to start attacking the body, but instead he continued: “Angelus is in town. Can bloody recognize his handiwork any day of the week.”
Willow blinked, remembering that she had read something- in Hathory’s Historical Dissection of the Englysh Vampyr - about how each vampire made a certain mark on their victims that distinguished them from other vampires. She had been hesitant to buy into the ‘special, little snowflake’ theory since most of the bites she had seen prior to reading that had seemed the same. But now, with Spike’s quick identification, she was willing to reconsider. “He was here, actually.”
Spike nodded and shoved his hands in his coat pockets, allowing her to continue.
“He didn’t say how he lost his soul, but he did say he found Tara, said she begged for her…” Her breath hitched as tears pricked her eyes and she allowed them to streak down her cheeks. “I don’t know if he was telling the truth. I don’t know where Tara is, or Dawnie. I just know that we’re in a whole world of trouble now that he’s back.”
“You’re damn right we are,” Spike said, his muscles and tendons noticeably tightening as the anger rose in his tone. Willow knew that he’d sworn to protect Dawn at all costs, regardless of what anyone else thought. While Giles wasn’t thrilled with Spike’s new predilection for guardianship, Willow thought it was sweet. “Soddin’ git’s gonna pay for moving in on my territory and hurting my girls. Gonna rip him limb from bloody limb.”
Willow flinched slightly, watching as Spike’s hands emerged from his pockets to simulate the action he had so aptly described. It was surprisingly creepy to see him tear apart the air that separated them; as it almost seemed like he had the strength to turn the world of physics on its head and actually make a hole appear in her bedroom.
“That sounds like a super plan, but do you mind..." Willow gulped, hoping she'd said enough for him to catch her drift. It turned out that saying the words ‘move the body’ was much harder than Willow expected them to be. As much as Willow wanted to free herself of this awful "present", she had to admit that she felt sad when she thought about the life this girl had. What was her name? Did she have a job? Did she have a family that would mourn her? A lover who would place flowers on her grave if he (or she) knew what had befallen her?
Letting his anger towards Angelus dissipate slightly and nodding acknowledgment, Spike hastily scooped the corpse off the bed and flung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “I know a place. She won’t be found.”
Spike pivoted and sauntered towards the window, unbothered by the added weight. As he climbed onto the sill, however, an idea sprang to Willow’s mind and she pulled open the night stand drawer to remove an item.
“Wait--”
“What is it, Red?” Spike asked, annoyed. He was clearly interested in getting this job done quickly so they could move onto the more important tasks of fighting Angelus and rescuing Dawn and Tara.
Willow held out a white feather and Spike took it, despite the confusion furrowing his eyebrows. “For her.” She paused, realizing she needed to add a further instruction. “You can place it in her pocket or something. Just…I want her death to be remembered by someone…”
“Right,” Spike replied, not bothering to ask additional questions before he leapt off the edge of the window and landed on the ground with a soft thump, his duster billowing out behind him. From her vantage point, she was able to watch him slink through the shadows of Revello Drive until he rounded a corner and was out of sight.
Sighing, Willow started to collect the sheets from her bed, wadding them up absentmindedly. She knew that it might be impossible to get the dried blood stains out, but she figured that it was worth a try, if only for the distraction it would afford her. So she left the bedroom and headed down the stairs to the basement where the washer/dryer combo was kept.
The sounds of the blender churning and spitting as she passed by the kitchen door assured her that the Buffybot was occupied enough not to notice her and Willow was grateful for that since one of the robot’s favorite activities was doing laundry and she wasn’t good at it.
Once in the basement, Willow dropped the sheets into the machine and went through the motions that she had gone through since she was eight and had been tasked with doing her own laundry while her parents were away at a conference. As the machine whirred to life, splishing and splashing its way through the cycles, she walked back upstairs, intending to start working on her locator spell. Instead of going back up to her bedroom, however, she walked into the living room, settled down in front of the small bookshelf next to the television set, and removed a medium-sized wooden box that had been tucked between Pride and Prejudice and Frankenstein.
Inside the box were the few herbs, a map, and the amber pendant she needed in order to perform the simplest of locator spells. She set up her ritual space and closed her eyes, holding the pendant loosely between the fingers of her right hand and holding the herbs tightly in her left.
“Goddess Persephone, I call on thee. Show me your daughter, my lover, my friend. Show me the lost so they may be found.”
Exhaling softly, Willow let the herbs fall to the map as the pendant in her hand started to shimmer and shake. She opened her eyes and nearly choked on the bubble of happiness that had formed in her throat.
Two dots were glowing on the map.
They were alive.
Author: snogged
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Co. own the characters of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I don’t.
Pairing: Willow/Angelus, Willow/Tara, Willow/Angel (friendship)
Word Count: 2012
Overall Rating/Highlight for Warnings: FRAO/NC-17; *angst/dark themes, character death, drug use, crude language (including sexual swearing) violence, sex*
Setting: Set Post-Season 5 of BtVS/Season 2 of AtS.
Summary: Still struggling with Buffy's death, Willow gets an unexpected visitor that brings a whole new set of problems to Sunnydale.
Betas: the unmistakable
velvetwhip and angelskuuipo. All other mistakes are mine.A/N: Several years ago, I started a WIP that never went further than the first chapter. This is my attempt to fix that. Enjoy!
A/N 2: This story is completed and chapters will be posted weekly.
Previous Chapters
Check out my shiny new header made by the marvelous
spikesredqueen. :)***
“Should I stay? Should I go?” Willow muttered to herself as she paced the length of the bedroom for the third time, her eyes focused on the fluffy, grayish-blue carpeting.
Occasionally she would cast a furtive glance at the bedroom door, trying to decide whether or not she should just turn the knob and walk through it. Logically, she knew that Spike hadn’t told her to stay put after informing her that he was on his way. She knew that the smell of burnt spaghetti would be far more tolerable than the smell of a decaying flesh. Plus, the Buffybot could probably use a systems check to make sure everything was still in working order after tonight’s patrol.
But Tara and Dawn were still very much missing in action and she knew that if she just waited a few more minutes, Spike would be here. When Spike arrived, he would take care of the stranger in her bed. When the body was gone, she would pull out her ingredients and books and conduct a locator spell. She had done them a thousand times before (okay, maybe more like twenty) and she knew it would provide her with answers. Even if those answers might involve Tara being…
A series of raps on the door interrupted her increasingly morbid train of thought and she pulled the door open, feeling a bit surprised to see Buffybot standing there instead of Spike. Smiling politely, Willow stepped to the other side of the wooden frame, blocking the robot’s view of the bed.
“Do you need something, Buffy?” Willow asked, brushing a stray red hair away from her eyes.
The Buffybot tilted her head and concern crinkled the corners of her lips. “You didn’t come downstairs when the pot started to smoke. Did you not hear the beeping? That noise means it requires service. I know you give me service when I am broken. Do you not offer others service as well?”
“Of course, I…” Willow murmured. “I’ll come downstairs in a minute and we can clean up the mess in the kitchen together.”
A 1000-watt smile spread over the Buffybot’s face and the glistening white of her teeth was nearly blinding. “Thank you, Willow. You’re my best friend.”
Those words carried an emotional sting, even though Willow knew that the Buffybot was just programmed to say them. It’s not like she knew any better and trying to explain it to her would be like running head-first into a brick wall. Before she could say anything at all, though, the robot hugged her with such force that she was required to take two steps backwards to keep her balance. When the Buffybot finally released her, Willow inhaled sharply.
“I hug Dawn when she’s upset,” the Buffybot replied, beaming. “I’m a good sister.”
“A very good sister,” Willow echoed. She hated that all she could do right now was placate the robot, but Spike was going to be here any minute, and she already wasn’t looking forward to being on the other side of his snark and anger when he found out that Dawn and Tara weren't enjoying a rated-G movie.
“I’m going to go wait for Dawn now,” the Buffybot said. “She’ll be home soon and I want to make her chocolate milkshakes.”
Willow’s lips parted slightly, ready to protest the robot’s use of the blender without supervision, but then she closed them, deciding it would be better for the Buffybot to just go busy herself in the kitchen instead of continuing to build on the ache squeezing Willow’s heart. “Have fun. I’ll see you soon.”
“Goodbye, Willow.” The robot waved, then turned and flounced down the stairs.
Before Willow could escape into her thoughts again, she heard the rustle of leather and a snort of irritation behind her.
“Spike,” she said, turning to face him and feeling relief wash over her.
“I heard virgin sacrifices were back in style for you witch types, Red, but I didn’t think you had it in you,” Spike said, smirking as he crossed his arms over his broad chest.
“She’s not…” Willow started. Admittedly, she hadn’t really explained to Spike why she needed his help. But she had been grateful that her vague descriptions had been enough to get him to begrudgingly show up. “It’s not what it looks like.”
“It sure looks like a dead girl, pet. And if you’re looking for a Merry Maid Service to clean this up…”
“It’s not like that,” Willow objected, not interested in hearing the rest of his smart remark. “I need your help. You said you’d help. So please…help?” The last bit came out sounding more like a squeak, but it was enough to get an agreeable nod out of the blond vampire.
As Willow chewed nervously on her bottom lip, Spike admired the corpse for a moment, his ice blue eyes scanning the flesh for the marks that would indicate how she got that way. Willow saw his tongue dart out every so often to lick his lips. It wasn’t in a lascivious way, like she’d seen him do around Buffy. It was more in the realm of ravenous and hungry. Not that it came as much of a shock. Angelus had left some pretty decent-sized fang marks in the woman’s neck and Willow couldn’t imagine that pig’s blood and cow’s blood were very good replacements for the real thing. Leaning forward, Spike inhaled and his nostrils flared as if he sensed something uncomfortably familiar.
“Pet, why didn’t you tell me?” Spike asked, his tone harsh and raspy.
“Tell you what?” Willow asked. He probably thought she was playing innocent, but she honestly had no idea what scent he picked up on and before she started stringing sentences together, it would be nice to know what he had figured out first.
Spike’s eyes narrowed and she heard a low growl come from deep his throat. At first, she thought he was going to start attacking the body, but instead he continued: “Angelus is in town. Can bloody recognize his handiwork any day of the week.”
Willow blinked, remembering that she had read something- in Hathory’s Historical Dissection of the Englysh Vampyr - about how each vampire made a certain mark on their victims that distinguished them from other vampires. She had been hesitant to buy into the ‘special, little snowflake’ theory since most of the bites she had seen prior to reading that had seemed the same. But now, with Spike’s quick identification, she was willing to reconsider. “He was here, actually.”
Spike nodded and shoved his hands in his coat pockets, allowing her to continue.
“He didn’t say how he lost his soul, but he did say he found Tara, said she begged for her…” Her breath hitched as tears pricked her eyes and she allowed them to streak down her cheeks. “I don’t know if he was telling the truth. I don’t know where Tara is, or Dawnie. I just know that we’re in a whole world of trouble now that he’s back.”
“You’re damn right we are,” Spike said, his muscles and tendons noticeably tightening as the anger rose in his tone. Willow knew that he’d sworn to protect Dawn at all costs, regardless of what anyone else thought. While Giles wasn’t thrilled with Spike’s new predilection for guardianship, Willow thought it was sweet. “Soddin’ git’s gonna pay for moving in on my territory and hurting my girls. Gonna rip him limb from bloody limb.”
Willow flinched slightly, watching as Spike’s hands emerged from his pockets to simulate the action he had so aptly described. It was surprisingly creepy to see him tear apart the air that separated them; as it almost seemed like he had the strength to turn the world of physics on its head and actually make a hole appear in her bedroom.
“That sounds like a super plan, but do you mind..." Willow gulped, hoping she'd said enough for him to catch her drift. It turned out that saying the words ‘move the body’ was much harder than Willow expected them to be. As much as Willow wanted to free herself of this awful "present", she had to admit that she felt sad when she thought about the life this girl had. What was her name? Did she have a job? Did she have a family that would mourn her? A lover who would place flowers on her grave if he (or she) knew what had befallen her?
Letting his anger towards Angelus dissipate slightly and nodding acknowledgment, Spike hastily scooped the corpse off the bed and flung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “I know a place. She won’t be found.”
Spike pivoted and sauntered towards the window, unbothered by the added weight. As he climbed onto the sill, however, an idea sprang to Willow’s mind and she pulled open the night stand drawer to remove an item.
“Wait--”
“What is it, Red?” Spike asked, annoyed. He was clearly interested in getting this job done quickly so they could move onto the more important tasks of fighting Angelus and rescuing Dawn and Tara.
Willow held out a white feather and Spike took it, despite the confusion furrowing his eyebrows. “For her.” She paused, realizing she needed to add a further instruction. “You can place it in her pocket or something. Just…I want her death to be remembered by someone…”
“Right,” Spike replied, not bothering to ask additional questions before he leapt off the edge of the window and landed on the ground with a soft thump, his duster billowing out behind him. From her vantage point, she was able to watch him slink through the shadows of Revello Drive until he rounded a corner and was out of sight.
Sighing, Willow started to collect the sheets from her bed, wadding them up absentmindedly. She knew that it might be impossible to get the dried blood stains out, but she figured that it was worth a try, if only for the distraction it would afford her. So she left the bedroom and headed down the stairs to the basement where the washer/dryer combo was kept.
The sounds of the blender churning and spitting as she passed by the kitchen door assured her that the Buffybot was occupied enough not to notice her and Willow was grateful for that since one of the robot’s favorite activities was doing laundry and she wasn’t good at it.
Once in the basement, Willow dropped the sheets into the machine and went through the motions that she had gone through since she was eight and had been tasked with doing her own laundry while her parents were away at a conference. As the machine whirred to life, splishing and splashing its way through the cycles, she walked back upstairs, intending to start working on her locator spell. Instead of going back up to her bedroom, however, she walked into the living room, settled down in front of the small bookshelf next to the television set, and removed a medium-sized wooden box that had been tucked between Pride and Prejudice and Frankenstein.
Inside the box were the few herbs, a map, and the amber pendant she needed in order to perform the simplest of locator spells. She set up her ritual space and closed her eyes, holding the pendant loosely between the fingers of her right hand and holding the herbs tightly in her left.
“Goddess Persephone, I call on thee. Show me your daughter, my lover, my friend. Show me the lost so they may be found.”
Exhaling softly, Willow let the herbs fall to the map as the pendant in her hand started to shimmer and shake. She opened her eyes and nearly choked on the bubble of happiness that had formed in her throat.
Two dots were glowing on the map.
They were alive.