“What did he do to me?” Willow demanded angrily, stalking toward Spike with menace in her eyes…and a stake in her right hand.

He was absolutely, completely unafraid.

He gave her a pointed smirk that he knew was sure to infuriate her further – which was pretty much the point – sparing a derisive glance toward the stake in her hand. “I think that’s obvious, pet,” he replied with a laugh. “No more bloody power trips for you, little girl!” he said in a mockingly severe tone, frowning and wagging a finger at her. “You play too rough!”

“I’m gonna kill you!” she snarled, furious at his mockery. “You murderer! You killed Oz, and I’m *gonna* make you pay for it once and for all if it’s the last thing I ever do!” She was in angry tears by the time she finished, and she lunged at him with the stake raised.

He effortlessly caught her wrist, twisting it enough to make her drop the stake, and then caught the other one as well when she drew her fist back to strike out at him. She struggled in frustrated fury for a few moments, yelling and cursing him, until he flung her away from him in irritation, sending her flying back into the bed.

“Look here, you daft cow!” he snapped, his own temper rising. “I only killed your bleedin’ puppy because *he* attacked *me*! What do you want from me? I can’t undo it. You want me to say I’m sorry? Well, I’m *not* sorry, you silly bint! It came down to me – or him – and if I had it to do over again, I’d still – choose -- *me*. Get the bloody hell over it!”

She was speechless with disbelieving rage at his blunt statement…but only for a moment. She was already screaming at him again when he stormed out the bedroom door, slamming it hard behind him.

The slamming of the door made absolutely no sound, and her screaming rant was instantly silenced the moment the door closed. Spike froze, turning slowly to look at the door with a frown of confusion for a moment. That was when he remembered…

*The spell’s on the door…not your mouth…*

It seemed that the Watcher had neglected to undo one of Willow’s little tricks.

A slow smile spread across Spike’s face as an idea occurred to him. He had restrained his impulse to give the girl a good scare, to teach her a lesson for what she had done to him, for Buffy’s sake. But this was simply too good an opportunity to pass up. A wicked gleam in his eye, he stalked back toward the door, opening it again and then closing it firmly behind him, sealing any sound inside once more.

It was time for him and the witch to have a confrontation.

When she saw him return, Willow stood up quickly from the bed where he had thrown her, ready to begin her tirade again. But before she could, without warning, he grabbed her by the arms and swung her around, slamming her into the sound-proofed door forcefully enough to take her breath. He drew very close to her, menace in his eyes now, their positions a mirror of the ones they had taken earlier that evening.

Willow was wide-eyed, silent, stunned by his unexpected actions. “Go ahead,” he said near her ear, his voice low and almost seductive, a smirk on his lips. “Scream if you like. No one’ll hear you.”

Willow’s eyes widend further with recognition of the sadistic words she had spoken to him less than an hour earlier, and it seemed to suddenly hit her that she was alone in this sound-proof room, utterly powerless, with a very strong, very pissed off master vampire.

Well…all but the sound-proof part.

Willow screamed.

She screamed as if her life depended on it…and Spike had not quite decided yet whether or not it did.

He was patient for a few moments, allowing her to express her absolute terror at having the tables turned on her. After all, he *was* pretty scary in his own right. Couldn’t blame the chit for being a little bit…

“All right, now, stop!” he snapped suddenly in irritation. When she did not, he covered her mouth with his hand, muffling her panicked cries for help. “That was irony, pet, I’d really rather you *didn’t* scream. Sensitive hearing and all that,” he explained with a sarcastic mimickry of patience.

Willow just kept trying uselessly to scream under his hand. “Will you bloody *shut up*!” he finally yelled in frustration. It finally seemed to sink in, when he raised his voice with no concern for who might hear, that the door was truly sound proof and no one would hear her.

Willow shut up.

“That’s better,” Spike said, removing his hand and giving her a smile that was patronizingly patient. “Now, listen here, pet. I’ve got some things I want to say – and you’re going to listen. And I’m feeling a mite testy at the moment so you might not want to make me angry. We clear, love?”

Terrified, Willow nodded hurriedly.

“Good.” Spike nodded in satisfaction, letting out a deep breath of relief that she had stopped screaming and appeared to actually be listening. “First things first. You might not like it, but I happen to live here for the moment, pet. So like it or not, you an me are just gonna have to find a way to get along.” He shrugged, “Now, me, I’ve got no problems with you, personally, so long as you follow a few simple rules.”

He released his grip on her arms and leaned back slightly, calmly counting off on his fingers, “Rule number one…”

Suddenly he was right back in her face, slamming his fist into the wall an inch from her face, and she whimpered and jumped in fear. “Don’t. *Ever*. Bloody. Touch. Me,” he snarled, biting off each word in a low, threatening voice. The flash of golden fire that passed through his sapphire eyes told her that every part of him was very, *very* serious.

“Right?” he prompted her agreement, eyebrows raised in a challenge, daring her to refuse.

Her mouth was set in a thin line of hatred and repressed fury at being forced to comply, when she still wanted nothing more than his bloody, torturous death – but she nodded slowly, her eyes glaring resentfully, defiantly, into his.

“Fair enough,” he nodded back, fully aware that even after this conversation, he would still need to watch his back around her. “Rule number two. If and when the Watcher decides you’re ready to be a good little witch again and gives your mojo back – no bloody spells anywhere near me. Got it?”

Another reluctant nod.

“Right…that ought to about cover it,” he nodded in satisfaction, starting to turn away as if finished, but then suddenly spinning around to corner her against the door again. “Oh, right…one more thing.” He leaned in very close to her face, his voice low and intense as he added slowly and deliberately, “You stay the bloody hell *out* of my head. Is that perfectly clear?”

The sheer rage in his eyes at the memory of her recent violation of the most personal, private part of him – his very thoughts – was terrifyingly clear to the powerful witch who was now nothing more than a cornered, helpless, very frightened girl.

“Yes,” she whispered, looking away from him with resentment in her voice and her expression.

“Good,” he muttered, pulling back from her with one final warning look, still not turning his back on her as he stepped away from her toward the bed, allowing her to move away from the door.

“You know Buffy’s not gonna be too happy about this,” she informed him as she stood to the side of the door and reached to open it, a spiteful look in her eyes that told him she had every intention of running right to Buffy with the tale that he had just threatened her, hurt her, tried to kill her.

He knew that after her talk with her Watcher, Buffy would not believe a word of it.

“No,” he commented casually, leaning against the bed and regarding her with a smirk. “Probably not. No happier than she’s gonna be when she hears about your little power trip. How you threatened me…tried to kill me…after she told you how important it was that you…well, that you *not*…” He stood up again, his eyes focused on her intently, an expression of calm triumph on his face.

“I’d wager she won’t be too thrilled to hear about how out of control you just got…how you lied to her, and were so bloody willing to do it again to cover for yourself after you’d staked me,” he went on, stepping slowly closer to her until he was standing right in front of her again.

His hand reached out to close over hers and the doorknob, pushing the door slowly shut again, as he leaned in very close to her and whispered softly, “I don’t suppose you really want for her to find out about all that.”

Willow glared at him, but she swallowed hard, and he could see the underlying fear in her dark green eyes. He knew he had won this little battle. “No,” she muttered, grinding out the word as if it physically hurt her to say it. “I don’t.”

“That’s what I thought,” he replied in that same low tone, with a note of smug satisfaction in his voice. Suddenly, he shrugged, raising his voice to one of casual disconcern. “Too bad,” he said, his face breaking into a smile. “Since the Watcher’s likely told her everything already by now.”

He relished the look of shock and fear on her face when she realized that he was telling the truth…and he had just been toying with her the whole time. Still meeting her eyes victoriously, his hand over hers moved to pull the door open deliberately.

“On second thought…go ahead, love. Tell her whatever you like. Don’t think it’ll matter much at this point.”

The trapped expression on Willow’s face slowly gave way to helpless fury, and she began to stalk away, stumbling awkwardly when she forgot that her hand was still on the doorknob under his. He laughed at her as she tried to jerk her hand away, holding it there for a moment longer, just because he could. Then he released her, allowing her to storm out of the room, his triumphant laughter ringing in her ears.


He was immediately aware when Giles got to the part of his conversation with Buffy where he told her what Willow had done. Apparently the sound-proofing spell on the room only worked one way. He could clearly hear the Slayer's furious voice through the thin wall that separated the two rooms.

"She did *what*?"

Her angry exclamation was followed by soft, hushed tones that were presumably Giles attempts to calm her.

"No...no, where is she?" Buffy's voice demanded, and Spike smiled to himself. He had not really expected Buffy to get *that* worked up over what Willow had done to him.

A moment later he heard pounding, angry footsteps approaching the door, and it was suddenly, violently kicked open, revealing the Slayer in all her furious glory, one hand on her hip, her eyes blazing with rage.

He suddenly remembered the little problem she had left him with when she had gone to talk to Giles. It was suddenly not so little anymore.

Buffy stalked into the room, slamming the door behind her, oblivious to his rising desire. She glared around the room, obviously looking for Willow. When she did not see her, her eyes finally came to rest on Spike. "Where is she?" she demanded, her voice low and trembling in anger.

"Buffy...calm down, love..." he murmured, moving slowly forward to take her arms in a soothing gesture.

She yanked away, giving him a warning look as she demanded again, "Where is she, Spike?"

He was silent a moment, searching her eyes, a slow smile forming on his lips at what he saw there, before he answered slowly, cautiously, “Most likely hiding from *you*, love.”

Buffy stared at him for a moment, breathing hard, and he noticed that her lower lip was trembling, and there were traces of fear in her eyes. Could it actually be as he suspected? Could the Slayer really have been *afraid*…for *him*?

She seemed to suddenly realize how much she was revealing, because her expression became guarded, her mouth set firmly as she turned without another word toward the door.

“Buffy,” he gently urged her back, reaching to take her arm and turn her back around to face him. He was surprised that she actually allowed it. “Buffy…love…wait. Just calm down a bit.”

Buffy turned to face him fully, no longer trying to hide the tears brimming in her eyes. “She tried to kill you,” she stated unnecessarily, her hands rising almost without her knowledge to rest on his arms, almost as if to reassure herself that Willow had not succeeded…that he was not dust. “She almost did.”

“But she didn’t,” he assured her softly. “ ‘M still here.” He paused, meeting her eyes intently as he went on with a smile, “I had a bit of a chat with the little chit myself. Don’t think she’ll be bothering me again any time soon. Nothing to worry yourself about.”

Her relief obvious, Buffy leaned her head against his chest, breathing deeply.

“And you *were* worried…weren’t you?” he asked softly, with a sense of wonder about his voice. “About me?”

“Spike,” she whispered, her breath still coming hard and shuddering with the passing of the fear that had come over her when Giles had told her what had happened. “I just – I can’t…go through that…again.”

“Go through what, love?” he asked her, puzzled, reaching down a hand to tilt her chin up so that she was looking him in the eye, her own wet and shining with tears. “What is it?”

“I just can’t…” she sniffed, looking away. “I can’t…lose you too.”

A feeling of absolute awe came over him with her admission. “You didn’t,” he reassured her in a hushed whisper, his mouth lowering to within a couple of inches from hers. “You won’t. I’m not going anywhere, pet.”

She looked up at him again suddenly, an almost frantic urgency in her eyes to believe what he was saying. And in the next instant, her lips sought out his, her hands running up and around him, clutching, pulling him closer against her, as she drew him with each second nearer, deeper, into the kiss.

“Oh…God…” he gasped, pulling away slightly as her hand slid back around him to cup the front of his jeans. “Buffy…I…I need you…love…”

She let out a low moan of pleasure at his words, capturing his mouth again in another urgent kiss, her other hand slipping down to the waistband of his jeans, tugging him with her toward the door. She did not want to separate from him even long enough to turn the lock. Once that was accomplished, she pushed him back toward the bed until his knees hit the edge, and they tumbled down together onto it.

At the loud creak of the springs under the weight of their bodies, Buffy pulled away from the kiss, staring at him with wide eyes as she gasped, “Gotta be…quiet…”

He started to nod, then stopped suddenly, his own eyes widening in realization, and a slow smile coming over his face. “No we don’t,” he whispered…unnecessarily, as he shook his head slowly, a sparkle in his eyes as they met hers playfully.

She arched one brow at him, pulling away for a moment to regard him speculatively. “We don’t?” she asked him in a dark, doubtful tone, her heaving chest against his deepening his desire for her.

“No.” He shook his head, breathing hard though he didn’t need to at all. “Witch soundproofed the door. Watcher didn’t know it; it’s still sound-proof. No one can hear anything from in here.”

Buffy’s eyes widened in outraged disbelief, her mood momentarily broken. “She sound-proofed the room? Like, psycho killer from a horror movie, ‘we’re out here where no one can hear you scream’ sort of thing?” she asked in horrified, disbelieving voice, hardly able to believe that her friend had had the chilling foresight to take such a precaution.

“Well…yeah,” he conceded with a little half-shrug, meeting her eyes again. “Exactly what she said as a matter of fact.” He affected a casual, unaffected look as he added, “Not that I would have. Screamed. Wouldn’t have given the bloody bint the satisfaction.”

Buffy thought about that for a moment, looking away from him, her eyes serious. Then, slowly, her eyes rose to meet his again, a wickedly teasing sparkle in them as the corners of her mouth turned up in a seductive smile. Her hand lowered to once again tease his sensitive flesh through the fabric of his jeans, and he gasped at the sensation.

The fingers of her other hand reached of to twine through his loose blonde curls and she yanked his head back in a forceful gesture, causing him to moan at the pleasure-pain sensation as she rose up to whisper in his ear suggestively, “Think *I* can make you scream?”

The words alone, spoken in that seductive whisper, her hot breath on his ear and her expert touch on his body, served to heighten his desire to an unbearable level, and he knew that he had lost the little challenge already.

He would be screaming her name before the night was over…and no one would hear him, just as the witch had said. He smiled slightly to himself as Buffy’s hand reached for the zipper of his jeans. He doubted that the witch had had anything like this in mind when she had performed her little spell.

*Thanks, Red,* was his last smug thought, before Buffy’s hand freed him from the constraints of his clothing, taking him boldly in her firm grip…and the capacity for rational thought left him completely.