Like anyone would be
I am flattered by your fascination with me....

***

Willow regained consciousness slowly, and it almost seemed to evade her. As she swam into the dim light ahead, she wondered if her body knew something her brain didn't. And when she finally opened her eyes and lifted her head painfully, she realized her body had been right.

The last thing she could remember was looking out her window, thinking Xander was out there. As she looked around the damp room, she realized that chances were it hadn't been him. She also seemed to remember a very hard object hitting her on the head. As she felt the ache in her head throb, she rationalized that it had probably been a fist.

Her eyes wandered the room, taking in the swirling cement walls, the brightly colored tables and chairs, the golden chains on her
wrists...then she blinked, shook her head slowly, and opened her eyes to a perfectly normal torture chamber. Willow quickly realized she probably liked the first pain-induced version better, but she wasn't about to bash her head against the wall to bring it back.

The wall. She twisted to see how she was chained up. Oh, great. Each of her hands were chained to the wall, apart, and the same was with her ankles. In fact, she wasn't chained. She was shackled. Willow remembered hearing somewhere that the position she was currently in was really bad for her body.

Even worse if someone decided to torture that body, Willow thought.

Weakly, she yanked on the shackles, trying to loosen them, maybe even make them creak, to give her some hope of escaping. After a few minutes of struggling, though, she realized that the escape gig was more of Buffy's profession. What could Willow do?

Well, she could cast a spell, but she *really* wasn't in the mood, predicament, or possession of the things she would need to cast one. Plus, the only real spell she knew was the one to restore Angel's soul, and that was definitely out of question.

Angelus. Was she in the sewers? She twisted her head around, glad that they hadn't shackled her up like a dog with a collar. It was most definitely damp and dank and dark, but it didn't smell like the sewers. It smelled...well, dead.

It could most definitely be Angelus. Or Spike. Or Dru...nah, Dru would've probably just wanted to go nuts in front of her. She wasn't really all that stable. Then, to Willow's surprise, someone entered the room, half-aware.

Speak of the devil. Drusilla. The vampiress was swirling about in circles, talking to someone Willow couldn't see. "She's here, love...she doesn't want to be...I can smell her fear...it smells like roses, doesn't it, Spike?"

Spike. And at that, the handicapped vampire rolled into the room. "I think it smells more of blood, ducks. But if you say roses, I guess it could just be her perfume." He looked smug, but Willow felt like laughing. He looked so...harmless in the wheelchair.

But when Spike vamped out right in front of her, she decided to take back her last thought. "Eek," she squeaked, and drew in a deep breath of air. Wheelchair or no, a vampire was a vampire, drank blood, and killed people for fun. People like her. "Eek," she said, in case they didn't pick it up the first time. Or so she told herself.

"Pet," Spike threw at Drusilla, "d'you really think that Angelus needs a scrawny bitch like this for Acathla?" He rolled himself up to Willow, who was only chained a few inches off the floor, and grabbed her hair, yanking her head down as she squealed in pain. "Think he'd mind me taking a little snack?" He bared his fangs.

Dru did a little drowsy dance, drawling as she spun. "Spiiike, daddy wants the girl for Acathla...and the Slayer...the one is for two, don't you see, love?" She danced her way to Spike's side. "And all will be evil, don't you see?" She traced her hands around Spike's shoulders.

Entranced by Dru's touch, Spike shoved Willow's head away violently. She gasped as her head came close to hitting the concrete. Spike rolled away, uttering something in disgust.

"That's right, Dru, we wouldn't want to waste my plan, would we now?" came a smart-aleck voice from the doorway. All three looked up to see Angelus strolling towards them, a bragging gait in his step.

Willow shrunk back in her bonds. She didn't know what else to do. Three very deadly vampires were standing in front of her, most likely hungry, and she was in a very uncompromising position.

But then again, if they were just going to eat, why had they gone to such great lengths to get her? Why hadn't they just drained her on the spot? Why had they gone to all the trouble of chaining her up? Willow realized that they weren't going to eat her. Torture her, maybe.

Angelus swaggered over to her, stroking his chin with his hand. Hmming and hawing over her like she was a piece of artwork or something, she was even more frightened. Why was he acting this way?

"Perfect." Willow shrunk away from the hand that was coming at her. "Willow, you are perfect." Taking her cheek in his hand, he softly ran his thumb over it. "You, my little hacker, are going to be the bait for that pesky Slayer. Won't she just come in here running if she knew you were in trouble, trying to save the day? Of course, I'm either going to have to strike a truce -- which I really don't want to do --- or kill her. I'm really banking on the second choice. How about you, little tree?"

Taking in Angelus' tone of voice, his touch, and the fact that she was probably going to end up dying, Willow did the only thing she could.

She screamed.

***

But you, you're not allowed
You're uninvited
An unfortunate slight...