Disclaimer: I own nothing here except the plot. The characters and all things Buffy the Vampire Slayer belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Twentieth Century, the Pope, and whoever else wants to claim them and actually receives royalties from them. That's not me, so... there ya go.

Pairing: W/S of course. That's all I write.
Rating: R
Summary: Spike uses Willow to go back in time to avoid being implanted by the Initiative... has even one of Spike's plans ever gone right? They end up a little further back in time than he intended.

Dedicated: To my beta, Claudia! She rules. Helped me work through a ton of stuff, caught things I'd read a hundred times and never noticed, and did the best thing of all, the easiest thing in the world to get a writer to write... she begged for more.


Willow stared at Spike as if he'd asked her to marry him. A second later, she reacted the way she would if he *had*. She laughed. A lot.

"Spike, you really expect me to do this? Are you insane?" She laughed even harder when he took a threatening step closer. "You're chipped, you can't hurt me, which means you also can't force me to do this, or anything else."

His lips were pursed together in that oh-so-cute way, making his cheekbones even more prominent in his face. But they weren't pursed in a pout, no, he was simply grinding his jaw in anger. Something he'd had to do more often than not since the Initiative had gotten hold of him a few months back. Unless he wanted a raging headache... or perhaps a brain fry. Yep, he definitely had to keep his violent tendencies to a minimum, except when it came to other demons.

Willow almost felt sorry for him, but not enough to do what he was asking her. There was no way she would purposely send him back in time to keep him from being chipped. After all, the first thing he'd done after escaping was try to kill her. No, she wouldn't willingly do it, and he couldn't force her *because* of the chip, therefore, she was safe from him.

But she hadn't counted on his determination.

His hand snaked out and grabbed her wrist, not enough to hurt her, just take her by surprise. His gaze bored into hers as he pulled her closer to him, until she had to tilt her head back to look at him. He was angry. Very angry. She was amazed at his control.

"I may not be able to physically force you to do it, pet," he ground out, "but I can force you." He raised his voice, calling to someone she hadn't known was there. "Pete! Now would be good."

Willow glanced nervously around the dark, empty warehouse, her gaze settling on a figure striding toward them. He was a tall, lithe, dark haired vampire with an evil air about him. That was laughable. What vampire didn't have an evil air about him?

Well, this one just seemed to have more than his fair share.

He looked like a serial killer, and he wasn't even vamped out yet. As he approached though, his demon face slid into place, and he grinned at her, his bloodlust obvious. He came up to her, and without ceremony, grabbed her from behind, holding her in place. Willow glared at Spike, not actually believing he'd allow this to happen, but when she saw the smirk on his lips and the gleam of anticipation in his eyes, she knew just how wrong she'd been.

"Spike," she reasoned, "you really don't want to do this. You can't just--"

"Bite her," Spike told Pete. "Bite her hard."

Willow screamed as Pete's fangs sank into her neck, tearing at the tender flesh there. Her gaze remained locked on Spike's as her blood was taken from her, even minutes later, as she sagged to the ground, her legs no longer wanting to support her. Spike actually licked his lips as he watched Pete drink her blood. She closed her eyes in despair, knowing that this time there would be no help for her.

Spike wanted so badly to rip Willow out of Pete's arms and drink her himself, but he didn't feel like dealing with the excruciating pain that would result. So he watched instead, watched carefully. Finally, he signaled Pete to stop, which Pete reluctantly did. He dropped her to the ground like so much refuse and Spike growled at him. Willow was the key to him getting the bloody chip out of his head, so if anything happened to her, his hopes were dead. After all, how many true witches did he know? One. Well, except for the blonde one... but she wasn't as powerful, or as fun to play with as Willow was. She'd probably pass out and be no good to him whatsoever.

He picked Willow up and carried her over to a filthy mattress a few feet away and laid her on it, then stood back, watching her. Completely ignored was the fact that she was in the same state he'd just ridiculed her girlfriend for potentially being in.

Pete followed him over and stood beside him. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and sneered at Spike. "She's pure. Purest I've ever tasted."

Spike barely held his temper in check at the contempt he saw in the younger vampire's face. Just as he was about to rip Pete's heart out of his chest, he realized the contempt was directed at Willow, not him. He sighed, forcing himself to calm down. Now was not the time to fly off the handle. As much as it pained him to admit it, he needed Pete.

A small sigh from the makeshift bed drew Spike's attention and he knelt down, waiting for Willow to completely wake up.

Willow opened her eyes slowly, feeling oddly lethargic. She yelped in surprise and scrambled back when she saw Spike's face inches from her own. "God, Spike. You know, giving me a heart attack will ruin all your wonderful little plans." She rolled her eyes when he chuckled. It was pretty obvious he was enjoying her moment of fear and panic.

She sat up, her hand moving to her neck as he paced a few feet away. Her neck hurt like hell, and it was sticky with blood. The blood was running down her neck and into her shirt and bra. She mopped at it with her shirt, but it continued to run down. She stopped when she noticed both men watching her with amber eyes, demon faces firmly in place. She swallowed hard and put her hands demurely in her lap, wishing herself anywhere but there.

"I can take care of that," Pete growled, kneeling down in front of her. Whether he was intending to lick at the blood or bite her again, Willow didn't know, nor did she want to find out, so she was actually grateful for Spike's violence when he grabbed the dark haired vampire by the collar of his shirt and threw him across the room with a snarl.

"You'll touch her when I say, mate, not before," he spat at Pete, who was lying where Spike had thrown him, not making a move to get up. Willow saw the fear on Pete's face and silently thanked God for it.

Spike strolled back over to where she cowered and pulled her roughly to her feet. "Don't think I won't let him hurt you if I need to, Red." He grinned wickedly and darted his head down, licking at her blood, from the top of her v-necked blouse, and back up to her neck. Willow tried to pull away, more repulsed by Spike now than in the two years she'd known him, but he held her by her arms. "You either let me do this, or I let him have another taste." He tossed a look over his shoulder at Pete who was watching closely.

Spike leaned toward her conspiratorially and whispered, "I think he kinda likes you, his, uh, fangs, got enormous when he saw you."

Willow's gaze followed Spike's and she shivered. "You're a pig, Spike," she snapped, but she allowed him to lick her neck, like the dog he was.

"Oh, come on," he scoffed, "like you and dog-boy didn't engage in a little naughty licking every once in a while." She stiffened and tried to pull away, but again he wouldn't let her. "For shame, Red, what would your girlfriend think about you still having warm and fuzzy feelings for the warm and fuzzy boy? You know," he chuckled, "dog-boy probably sensed your penchant for girls and had to wonder why you were with him. Probably why he left."

Willow glared at him, but said nothing. She knew he was just trying to get a rise out of her, and she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. She raised an eyebrow at him and looked pointedly at his mouth. His smirk slipped a bit as hers grew. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth, and looked at it, thinking he must have blood smeared on his mouth or something, but there was nothing. Hearing Pete's sneering laughter, Spike raised his fist. She closed her eyes in anticipation of the pain, and he halted the blow. After a few seconds, when nothing happened, she opened her eyes in surprise. As soon as she did, he backhanded her.

They both reared back in pain. Willow recovered first, because the blow hadn't been full force. Spike spun around, holding his head.

"Bloody hell!" he yelled in frustration. A second later, the pain still pulsating through his brain, he turned back to Willow and grabbed her arm. "This ends now. You'll do the spell, or I'll kill your girl-toy, pain or not." He shoved her down on the mattress and strode away. "Watch her," he barked to Pete. Just before he left the warehouse, he turned back. "Keep your hands off of her unless she tries to escape. But do not kill her." He walked out the door, slamming it shut behind

Spike snarled at the clerk in the magic shop as she wished him a good day, and left the cramped store. His anger had lessened since leaving the warehouse, but he still felt like killing something. He refrained only because he had things to do, spells to cast, time to travel, and a past to change. He wished he didn't need the witch for the spell, it made things more complicated than they needed to be, but he did.

The spell called for a witch, preferably a witch who bore his bite. He figured the more powerful the witch, the better tings would go, so, Willow it was. And if she didn't cooperate, he'd have her girlfriend killed. Never did like the blonde witch anyhow.

He unlocked the warehouse door and went inside, locking the door behind him. As he approached, he knew something was wrong. He smelled blood. A lot of it. He ran to the mattress, and knelt beside Willow. She was alive, he could hear her heartbeat, still going strong, but she wasn't moving. Her breathing was haggard, raspy. He looked around quickly for Pete, then felt around with his senses. Pete wasn't there. Spike dropped the bag clutched tightly in his hand and reached out to Willow.

"Red. Wake up," he ordered. She didn't move when he touched her, or react in any way to his voice. He touched her shoulder and rolled her toward him, cursing aloud when he saw the bruises forming on her face and neck. Her right eye was almost completely swollen shut, bruises lined the whole left side of her face and neck, and there were two new bite marks on her neck. One by her jaw on the left side, and another near her right shoulder. Her sleeve was torn, and covered in blood. Seeing his hope slipping away from him, he dropped her to the mattress and paced away, cursing.

"Damn it! If you aren't already dead, Pete, I'll kill you myself. Slowly." He stalked back over to the mattress, kicking at a pile of dust in frustration. He took three steps back the other way, kicked another pile of dust, then turned and paced back again. It took him two more turns to realize he'd kicked two piles of dust. Two. Pete hadn't done this, or if he had, he'd had help. Needing to know what the hell had happened, he stomped over to Willow and picked her up, settling her on his lap.

"Willow. Wake up." He slapped lightly on the only non-bruised portion of her face. "Come on, damn it. Wake the hell up."

She stirred a bit and moaned. Her eyes fluttered open and she tried to scramble away from him. He held her tight, not letting her move. "What happened?" he snapped. "God damn it, why is it that everything I do gets screwed up? Usually by you and your damn friends. Well, not this time. This time *I* get what I want, not you. Got it?"
She nodded fearfully, shrinking away from his anger. He forced himself to calm down, and allowed his face to slip back to its human visage.

Calmer now, he tried again. "So, what the hell happened?"

She swallowed and licked her lips, wincing when her tongue ran over the broken flesh. Her face clouded over, but her voice was strong when she spoke. "Three vampires snuck in and tried to take me with them. Your buddy killed them all, but not before, one of them grabbed him and held him down while the other two bit me." Her swollen mouth twisted bitterly, and she turned her accusing glare on him. She pushed against his chest, and he let her. He set her on the mattress and stood up, needing to get away from the intoxicating smell of her blood.

Willow sat there, her face battered and bruised, her legs pulled up against her chest, her arms wrapped around them, her eyes shooting daggers at him, and Spike felt a twinge of guilt. A small twinge.

"And then?" he asked impatiently.

She looked at him silently for a minute. "I hold you responsible for this, and at the first opportunity, I plan on killing you."

There was no guilt this time. "Little tip for you, Red, don't give your enemy anything except your hatred, and especially not a warning."

She just glared at him, her good eye boring into his with a hatred he wasn't used to seeing anymore. "That's more like it," he enthused. "Did they rape you?" He sounded cold, uninterested, but inside, he was seething. How dare they do this to his property? And she *was* his property. The whole idea behind having Pete bite her was for him to be able to unknowingly bite her under the pretext of licking the blood left behind by Pete. Though he had thoroughly enjoyed that part as well. The little witch had damn tasty blood. Witch's blood, shot through with magick and purity. Not pure with virginity, but with goodness.

Her eyes narrowed at him. "No," she shot back, "they didn't. They tried, but your boy wonder got free and killed them."

"So where's Pete then?" His own eyes narrowed when she looked away before answering. She was lying, or at the very least, embellishing the truth.

"He and the last vampire staked each other."

Spike watched her for a second, debating on whether or not to pursue the truth. He decided against it for now. "Good, then we won't have any interruptions during the spell. Come here." His voice brooked no argument, and she was in no condition to disobey him. She stood shakily and went to him, but she was by no means subservient. She swung her arm back and slapped him. He saw it coming, but he didn't stop her, he let his eyes show his displeasure.

She didn't shrink back as he'd expected her to do. She straightened her shoulders, barely wincing at the pain it caused, and waited. He was pleased. She knew who was in charge here, but she wasn't whimpering and cringing from him. Well, not too much, and that showed strength. He'd definitely made a good choice going with her rather than her girlfriend. He nodded his head toward the bag on the floor. She sat down again on the mattress, and opened the bag, pulling out each item one at a time.

"Candles. Sea salt." Her face seemed to light up the tiniest bit with each item. Magick, apparently, was something she greatly enjoyed.

He pulled out the folded up page he'd torn from one of Giles' spell books and tossed it at her, then leaned against the wall to smoke a cigarette.

When the bag was empty, she unfolded the spell and read it over, looked through the bag again, then turned her eyes his way. "Where's the personal item?"

He snapped his lighter shut with an echoing click, looking at her blankly.

She sighed, pointing to the bottom of the page and holding it out for him to see. He squinted at the tiny writing, but couldn't read it from where he stood.

She sighed again and rolled her eyes. "Didn't you even read through the spell? It's pretty difficult... I might not even be able to do it--" hearing his growl, she quickly added, "but I'll try."

Mollified for the time being, he nodded, waiting for her to continue. "And?"

"Um, difficult spells call for a personal item, something that belongs to you. Usually a piece of jewelry is used, something personal to that person, but it can actually be anything. It just has to have belonged to you since you're the one going."

He took a deep drag off his cigarette, shaking his head casually. "Wrong, Red. You're coming too. See, I actually intend to come back, and since I need your blood to do the spell in the first place, I'm pretty sure I need it to get back as well. It's key." He watched her closely, relishing her reaction. She didn't disappoint.

"What? No. I-- I can't. I have school," she reasoned. "And, Tara... and, um, no, 'cause see, I can't go... it just wouldn't be a good thing." She jumped up, pacing back and forth between him and the mattress.

He inhaled deeply every time she passed him, the smell of blood growing tantalizingly closer with each step. She went on and on, trying to convince him not to take her with him. He remained silent. He wasn't even listening at this point. His control snapped when she swung by him a third time. He tossed his cigarette to the floor and grabbed her arm. A gentle tug on her wrist brought her to him and he ripped the sleeve of her blouse off. She screamed, yanking on her arm, trying to pull away, but he wouldn't let her. Not when he was this close to tasting her again. Her eyes widened when he lifted her arm and licked a trail to her shoulder. His own eyes closed in ecstasy.

"Heaven," he mumbled. His mind was whispering to him, telling him to sink his teeth into her neck and end her life, to bathe in her blood, but his rational side fought it. He had no desire to lay on the ground for the rest of the night, screaming in pain. Once the immediate blood lust was satisfied, he looked at Willow. Her face was blank, her eyes fixed on a point over his shoulder somewhere. She was ignoring him. He chuckled darkly and raked his teeth over her shoulder.

"Ignore me all you want, you're still going. Draw the circle, and light the candles. I'll figure out something to use for the item." He stalked away from her.

Twenty minutes later, everything was set up and ready. They sat inside a circle of sea salt with four candles placed just inside the circle, marking the four directions, ready to be lit. The personal item was dangling from his left hand, and woven between the fingers of Willow's right hand. After she recited the spell, they would grasp hands, holding the necklace between them. Their other hands were also to be clasped, but for now she was avoiding touching him whenever possible.

She raised an eyebrow at him, silently asking if he was ready. He gave her a 'what do you think?' look. She took a deep, steadying breath, lit the candle representing north, and started to recite the incantation. Spike only listened with half an ear, his thoughts were on the gold chain dangling from their hands. He didn't used to be a necklace person, but Dru had given it to him the night before the mob attacked them in Prague. After rolling his eyes at her offered present, he'd stuffed it into his duster pocket and forgotten about it. He was touched, but made a mental note to lose it after only wearing it long enough to show Dru his appreciation.

The next night he almost lost her. She was broken and bleeding. Dying as he watched. His panic had never reached such heights as it did that night, and the days following. After carrying her to safety and forcing his way into a merchant's house, he'd laid her gently on the bed and killed the couple for her. Fed her like she'd later do for him while he was in the wheelchair.

She'd smiled, so beautifully, always so beautifully, and kissed him softly. Her hand slid down his neck to touch his chest, and, finding it empty her big brown eyes swam with tears, and her lip trembled.

Spike immediately took the necklace out and put it on, ignoring the blood still covering his hands, and her mouth. Her smile came back, wider than ever, and she kissed him deeply, whispering her thanks.

He'd worn it ever since. It was a part of him, almost as much as Dru was.

In Brazil, she'd ripped it off of his neck and thrown it at him, along with a few of her china dolls. Thrown them at him as she screamed and yelled. Something else was in his mind, she said, something besides her. He tried to assure her that she was the only important thing on his mind, but she'd shaken her head sadly, refusing to see the truth in his eyes, refusing to allow his love for her to warm them both.

Spike ground his teeth together.

Well, tonight he had the chance of getting Dru back. He'd get this thing out of his head, and she'd see he was just as evil as he'd always been.

She'd take him back.

Willow's warm hand interlaced with his, jerking him out of his reverie. He looked around him. The candles were all lit now, the circle of sea salt was shimmering slightly, and Willow was glowing as she recited the spell. He watched her sweat-slicked face, listened to her smooth, whispered tones, took note of her rapidly rising chest. Her eyes were closed in concentration, but she seemed to sense his gaze because she squeezed his hand warningly.

He sighed, and tried to concentrate on the day he'd been highjacked by the Initiative. Willow had informed him of the importance of concentration as she poured the circle, noting that if he didn't concentrate all his energies on the right time then it was possible they'd travel to the wrong one, and since she didn't fancy traveling all over the map at different times with a vampire, then he should get it right the first time. Plus, once they got there, if they didn't change what he wanted to change, they wouldn't have another chance. It was impossible to travel more than once to a certain time period. Otherwise, what was to stop someone from going back and changing the past numerous times to achieve their own goals? This was a one-shot deal and he didn't want to screw it up.

Her other hand intertwined with his as she chanted, and he felt energy flow into him from their joined hands. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a blue light shoot out from Willow's body and encircle them. She was sweating heavily and shaking in exhaustion when her head suddenly shot back and her eyes whipped open. She fixed her now alien gaze on him and exhaled. A bright white light left her mouth and shot out in all directions, and then it went dark.