The End: The Flight

Home : Stories by Author : Stories by Laure Alexander : Laure Alexander - TEAOW&S : The End: The Flight

Summary: Continues where we left off in chapter 4 before the weird ass dreams and visions. People have had a lot of theories on who's getting turned etc. Hope it doesn't disappoint.

AUTHOR: Laure Alexander
EMAIL: lara@sunflower.com
RATING: R, dream birching
PAIRINGS: Willow/Spike, Willow/Angelus
DISCLAIMER: I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or any of the characters on the show. Joss Whedon and the WB Network own them (for now). No copyright infringement intended, so please don't sue.
DEDICATION: Peygan's now bribing me to post faster. Thanks for the lovely picture!
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Sometime near dawn...

Burrowed beneath the blankets, Willow curled into a ball, waiting. Her skin was clammy, her breathing was ragged, and the fear inside her was nearly overwhelming her.

Why hadn't he done it yet?

A part of her just wished he would, so that it would be over and the anticipation and accompanying terror would be gone.

Propped on one elbow, the sheet draped low over his hips, Angel watched her shiver for a long time. As a lover she was responsive, if rather reluctant. Her body was too well trained to be otherwise.

But, her mind was nearing the point of hysteria.

The kindest thing to do would be to put her out of her misery and turn her.

He still couldn't figure out why he hadn't done so in the middle of the sex. He knew she'd expected it. She'd even turned her head and bared her neck in resignation.

But, all he'd done was come and collapse heavily on her. When he'd finally moved off of her, she'd blinked at him in exhausted incomprehension and wild terror. Finally it had become apparent to her that he wasn't going to do anything at that moment, and she'd drifted into a restless sleep. She'd fought it, her fear warring against the overwhelming languor, but finally she'd succumbed, whimpering softly as her eyes fell shut.

Angel knew she'd expected to awaken as a vampire.

Sighing heavily, Angel sat up, then slipped from the bed to pace.

Hearing him moving, Willow made herself as still as possible and peeked out from behind the blanket. Nude and graceful, Angel paced across the floor at the end of the bed, his brow furrowed, his hands clasped behind his back. She watched him for several minutes, unmoving, barely even breathing, until a cramp formed in her leg and she had to shift it.

At the rustle of material, Angel turned to face the bed and saw her cower, smelled her terror spike. Irrationally angered by her fear, he strode over to her and yanked her from the bed, digging his strong fingers into the soft part of her upper arms. Willow whimpered and balled up her fists, pressing them against his chest as she tried to squirm away from him.

"Your fear is an insult," Angel hissed, narrowing his eyes as she flinched back from his lowered face. "This is an auspicious day and you're mewling like a coward."

Willow stared at him, then punched him in the chest. He grunted, but didn't release her. "Do you even hear what you're saying?" she asked, incredulity knocking aside the fear for a moment. "Do you really expect me not to be afraid of losing my life? I'm sure you were all 'now take me now, oh dark goddess Darla'."

"Darla was blonde," Angel cut her off, surprised by her sudden calm.

Cocking one eyebrow Willow replied, "Uh huh, and I'm so sure they had Clairol Loving Care hair dye two hundred and fifty years ago."

Exasperated, Angel released her, and Willow grabbed her dress, pulling it over her head.

"That's only delaying the inevitable."

"Yeah?" she asked harshly. "Well, when *is* the inevitable, because it's been..." She glanced at her watch, "eight hours and the fear is literally killing me. Stop being a pussy and just do it."

One strong hand shot out and caught her around the throat, cutting off her air. Willow choked and clawed at the hand as Angel watched her impassively.

"Have I driven you as insane as my other daughter?" With a shake of his hand, he released her and she crumpled to the floor, gasping for breath and massaging her throat. Tears leaked from her eyes and she sobbed helplessly as the fear returned.

"I want to see Spike...please," she begged softly, dashing at the tears on her cheeks. "One last time, please."

Angel stared down at her, then rolled his eyes. He didn't remember making childer being this much of a pain in the ass. "Fine. He's across the hall."

Scrambling to her feet, Willow hurried out of the bedroom, through the sitting room and across the hall to the room Spike and Drusilla shared. Flinging open the door, she turned on the lights and stared in longing and fear at her lover chained by his wrists to the bedposts. He was slumped, his chin on his chest, and there were ugly bruises on his back.

Blood trickled slowly down his arms as the heavy iron of the manacles cut into his wrists.

As her scent enveloped him, Spike returned to full consciousness, and he lifted his head, trying to look over his shoulder to see her.

Willow was still human. Her heart was racing and fear was emanating from every pore, but she was still alive. As he scented her unique aroma, he smelled his sire all over her, his touch, his sex, but Spike didn't care.

Angel could fuck her twice nightly and six ways on Sunday as long as he kept her alive.

Ignoring Angel who was following her, Willow hurried over to Spike and climbed on the bed to face him. On her knees, she gazed bravely up into his sorrow-filled eyes, then sobbed his name and collapsed against him, her hands cupping his cheeks.

"Willow, Willow," Spike chanted her name, his voice cracking with emotion.

"William," she whimpered in response, peppering kisses over his face, their tears mingling as they pressed their cheeks together.

"Gag me."

They both ignored Angel's commentary, and kissed tenderly.

"I'm sorry," she whispered against his lips. "He...he..."

"I know, luv. It doesn't matter," Spike assured her.

Her face flamed and she pulled back from him slightly. "I tried not to...I didn't want to enjoy it."

"Don't ever apologize for that," he stressed softly. "Look at me, luv." When she lifted shame filled eyes to him, he tried to smile encouragingly. "I love you no matter what."

Fresh tears leaked down her hot cheeks. "I love you, too."

"You two are making me sick. Say your goodbyes, Willow," Angel snapped.

Spike stiffened, then tugged frantically on the chains. Willow's hands went up to his wrists and pulled on the manacles. Desperation flooded them both and they ignored Angel's approach. As Angel reached for Willow, Spike howled the word 'no' and wrenched the *unbreakable* chains from the solid wood bedposts.

Shocked, Angel gaped at his childe. "How the hell..."

As Willow flung herself out of the way, Spike launched himself at Angel and battered at him with fists wrapped in iron chains. "Love, you bastard. It can move mountains."

One hard, well-placed blow to the temple and Angel fell to the floor unconscious.

Stunned that it had been so easy, Spike gaped down at him, then began to unwind the chains and remove the manacles.

Willow slid from the bed and stared at Angel's still form, then turned panicked eyes to Spike. "What did you do?"

Dropping the chains, Spike ignored the pain in his body and grabbed for a pair of jeans and t-shirt, yanking them on. "Get my boots--by the closet door--and come on."

"I...I can't leave. *We* can't leave." Even as she protested, she moved to fetch his boots.

Spike grabbed his duster in one hand and her hand in the other and pulled her out the door. "We are." Together they ran down the stairs only to come to a quick halt at finding Drusilla in front of the door.

"Rebellion always has its price," she murmured, slipping aside to let them pass.

"Come with us, Dru," Spike begged as Willow opened the heavy door.

One slender pale hand brushed his cheek before she disappeared into the shadows. "My place is here...As is yours, my William. You will learn your lessons and eat your pain soon enough."

Shaking his head at her crypticism, Spike followed Willow outside and around to the garage and his car.

"Where are we going, Spike?"

"Out of here, out of town. Far away where he can't find us. Get in the car."

As she obeyed, Willow felt something tighten in her chest. She was afraid that there was nowhere on Earth that Angel wouldn't find them.

Spike gunned the engine and peeled out of the garage, aiming the car for the nearest highway out of Sunnydale.

*****

"Where are we going?" Willow finally asked again, about thirty miles East of Sunnydale.

"...Dunno." Intent on peering through the paint smeared across the windshield, Spike spared her a quick glance. Willow sat huddled in the corner of the front seat, her fingers playing nervously with the seat belt. There were goose bumps on her arms and her feet were bare. Spike cursed under his breath and turned on the heater.

"I don't think I'll ever feel warm again," Willow murmured after several more miles had passed.

"We'll be fine, luv. He won't find us, I swear," Spike replied earnestly, pressing his foot harder on the gas pedal.

"He'll be so angry."

Spike snorted. "I'm the one who's angry, Willow. I'm pissed as hell. You're my lover, my heart, my freakin' soul. He won't get you. I won't let him."

Touched by his passion, Willow turned her head to look at him through eyes brimming with tears. "You're turning your back on everything, William."

Reaching out, Spike gripped one of her hands, squeezing it gently. "No. I'm not, Willow. I'm keeping the most important thing."

Unbuckling her seat belt, Willow slid across the seat, and cuddled against him, as warm tears leaked slowly down her cheeks.

And Spike began to remember bits and pieces of his bizarre dream.

What the hell had that been about?

End of Chapter 6